Freesias and Foul Play

by London Lovett

  "Am I interrupting?" he asked.

  I finished the final entry and patted my stack of orders. "Nope. Your timing is perfect. I was just about to doze right off onto my keyboard. Why is paperwork so boring?"

  He stepped into the office. "I'd take your paperwork over mine any day.”

  "No, thanks. I could never be a detective if part of the job description was writing reports. I'll stick to investigating on the side. No paperwork involved. Which reminds me—" I started but the front bell rang.

  "Ryder was just heading out as I walked inside. He told me to tell you," Briggs said.

  "I guess I need to get out there. Where was he going?"

  "He was carrying a nice bouquet. I think he was heading across the street to Lola's."

  I stood up from my desk and tilted my head side to side to take the kink out of my neck. "That poor guy is going to drive himself crazy until he leaves. Then he'll probably drive himself more crazy when he's halfway around the world."

  "He's leaving?" Briggs asked as he followed me into the hallway. We both stopped our conversation when we saw that my next customer wasn't a customer at all.

  Mayor Price was standing a good distance away from Kingston's perch. His angry eyes were set deep in his round face as he glowered at the bird. Kingston was eyeing him rather suspiciously too. My bird had a sixth sense when it came to people.

  Mayor Price saw me first and hadn't noticed Briggs yet. "Miss Pinkerton." He wasted no time with greetings or niceties. (Not that I was expecting any.) "I've come here to let you know that I don't appreciate you digging up old history about this town or, in particular, my family." His face grew redder as he spoke. He opened his mouth to continue but sputtered and sucked back in the words when Briggs stepped into the front room.

  "Briggs"—he finally found his tongue—"You need to tell this woman—" He added a rude, pointing finger in case Briggs didn't know which woman he was referring to.

  Briggs walked forward with his own gesture. His hand was up telling him to stop. "Hold on there, Mayor Price. You haven't finished your statement, but I already don't like your tone. You may call her Miss Pinkerton. And I don't tell her anything. She's an independent woman who makes up her own mind."

  "Briggs, she's been sticking her nose into places it doesn't belong. I know she helps you occasionally because of some perceived extraordinary sense of smell." A slight eye roll followed. "But she has no business drudging up things about my family's past."

  "First of all"—Briggs had lowered his hand and his voice—"Her hyperosmia is not perceived. It exists. She can detect miniscule odors that our evidence team would never smell, and she has helped solve numerous cases with her nose. And secondly, she has every right to research the history of this town. It just so happens your family has been a big part of Port Danby for many years. There is no way to separate one from the other."

  Mayor Price stepped forward in a menacing fashion but quickly remembered he was staring down an opponent who didn't scare easily. Briggs kept a calm demeanor, but his shoulders were taut and that little twitchy muscle in his jaw flickered beneath the dark beard stubble.

  "She may research all she wants, but she needs to stay clear of the Price name." The mayor threatened.

  I'd stood back like a meek kitten for long enough. "You certainly are worried that I'll dig up something unbecoming about your family," I said briskly.

  Briggs shot me a side eyed 'thanks for making things worse' look. "Lacey is not digging into the Price family history. She is simply trying to figure out what happened to the Hawksworth family. The evidence doesn't match up to a murder suicide. It seems right that after all these years, someone takes the time to clear Bertram Hawksworth's name if he was a victim and not a killer. She might even find that he actually did it but—"

  Mayor Price swung his thick arm around fast enough to startle Kingston. The bird stayed on his perch but flapped his long black wings. The mayor instantly ducked and curled his arms around his face. "Don't let that bird near me."

  That was when something dawned on me and, suddenly, things made sense. The mayor was afraid of crows. From his reaction, I could only deduce that he'd had, at some point in time, a frightful encounter with a crow or maybe even a flock of crows.

  "You just startled him. He won't hurt you." I immediately rushed over to Kingston's treat can and pulled out a snack to calm him, giving him something else to focus on other than the scary man with the angry tone.

  Mayor Price reluctantly lowered his arms and scowled at Kingston. "Wild animals have no place inside a store," he barked.

  "I think we've already done the rounds on that particular topic," Briggs said wryly. "And I think the other topic too. If you can't produce any law or ordinance that bars a Port Danby citizen from researching the town's history, you have no legal right or right of any kind to stop Lacey from investigating the Hawksworth murders."

  Price's double chin billowed out with a mean laugh. "Waste of time anyhow. The case was solved back when it happened. She's just chasing myths and fantasies. Maybe she should find something better to do with her time."

  "You mean like run a successful Port Danby business?" I chirruped with an overly sweet smile.

  Briggs crossed his arms as a gesture to let him know I'd had the last word, and we were done with the conversation.

  With his impeccable timing, Kingston had finished his treat. He swooped off his perch and headed toward the work island. Price nearly fell backward over his own big feet in his attempt to flee the shop. He slammed out so hard, the goat bell that had hung there for two years, clattered and clanged as it bounced along the tile floor.

  Briggs walked over to pick up the fallen bell.

  "Argh, that man is aggravating," I said. I hadn't realized I was shaking about the whole thing until I reached up to push a curl off my face. My fingers were trembling. Briggs noticed and walked over with one of his calming smiles.

  He took my hand between his, and instantly, the trembling stopped. "Don't let him get to you. He takes his position of mayor far too seriously, as if he is some kind of king or something." He saw that I was still slightly shaken, so he did exactly what I was hoping he would do. He put his strong arms around me and held me close.

  I rested my cheek against his shoulder. "It's strange, isn't it? How obsessed he is with me searching into his family history."

  Briggs' deep voice rumbled against my cheek as he spoke. "I'd say you've definitely stepped on a nerve. He must know about some of the skeletons in his family closet. They must be embarrassing or scandalous enough that he doesn't want them to surface."

  I peered up at him. "You mean scandalous like a daughter having an illegitimate baby?" I sighed. "Even when I say it with a touch of drama, it doesn't sound nearly bad enough to murder an entire family. By the way, thank you for handling that so well, and thank you for reminding him I'm an independent woman." I rested against him again. "An independent woman who depends on these strong, comforting arms every once in awhile."

  "And there's no one these arms would rather comfort than you."

  Chapter 22

  Ryder returned from delivering flowers to Lola. I was still feeling out of sorts from the mayor's visit, so Briggs suggested a short walk. The sun was setting and the temperature was dropping, but the cool air felt refreshing. We decided not to discuss Mayor Price at all on the walk, but I broke the promise in the first few steps.

  "I know we weren't going to bring up that grumpy man, but I just need to ask you one thing. Did you notice his extreme reaction to King flapping his wings? I've seen people startle when Kingston stretched his wings or flew down from his perch, but I've never seen anyone take cover like Mayor Price."

  "I thought the same thing. That might be why he wanted Kingston banned from being in the store. Maybe Price had a bad experience with a crow."

  "Ah ha, so you were thinking the same thing as me." I nodded sharply. "There—last mention of that man." A fog was drifting in, so, for a change, we str
olled away from the coast. "We never had a chance to discuss the Oz case." Just as I said it his phone rang.

  He pulled it out. "That's forensics. They were working on unlocking Amanda's phone." He answered it. "Briggs here." I could hear the voice but not the clear words of the person on the other end. We stopped in front of the Mod Frock so Briggs could finish his call. I took a few minutes to admire a cute, yellow sundress, the owner, Kate Yardley, had placed on a mannequin. It would be perfect for summer.

  "Just learned something interesting," Briggs said as he hung up. "Remember that Susana said she left Amanda in the tent after their little meeting. I think I know why she stuck around. There was a text on Amanda's phone. It was from Gordon. He asked her if they could meet up after dress rehearsal. She wrote back that she had a meeting with Susana first and that she'd wait for him in the tent."

  I stopped and my mouth dropped open. "Whoa, that's not just something interesting. That's huge. But then, would he seriously be stupid enough to text Amanda to meet him there if he was planning to kill her? And what would his motive be?"

  "Both good questions. Looks like I'm going to need to talk to him. Do you think you can extend the walk?"

  "Sure. Let's go by the shop. I'll tell Ryder he can close up early. We're slow this afternoon. Then I can fill you in on some of the things I learned when I snooped around the theater camp today."

  "Why am I not surprised about that," he said.

  We stopped at the flower shop. I dashed in to grab my keys and my coat. I let Ryder know he could lock up early, then Briggs and I headed toward the foggy coast. I buttoned up my coat.

  "Why always fog? Couldn't we just have a nice breezy evening for a change? So do you think it was Gordon?"

  A short laugh followed. "We're a little short on evidence for that, but the text messages are not good for Gordon. However, it's hard to get a conviction on just a few texts. We'll need more. And like you said earlier, what would his motive be?"

  "Well, I might have something," I said. "This afternoon when I snooped around at the theater site, I overheard—"

  Briggs nodded. "Good word for it."

  "Yes, one can't help it if words float to their ears, can they? Anyhow, a few of the crew members were talking about how Amanda was always too demanding, always wanting special treatment. I didn't get any vibes that they were fond of her. In fact, when I started up a conversation with two eager to talk cast members, I got the distinct impression that she wasn't too well liked. With the exception of several of the men. It seemed Amanda liked to flirt and start up relationships with some of the male cast members. They said she bounced from boyfriend to boyfriend. It sounded as if there was much to gossip about in the troupe."

  "Behavior like that does occasionally cause jealousy and crimes of passion. Did they give any specific names?" Briggs asked.

  "No names but there was Elsie's observation that Dorothy and the Scarecrow seemed pretty flirty. Then a bridal customer told me she saw Dorothy and the Tin Man cozied up on a bench on the wharf. Maybe Gordon found out she wasn't faithful, and he was jealous enough to kill her."

  "Could be as simple as that," Briggs admitted. "The text messages sure put him in the center of things."

  We stopped in front of Franki's to breathe in the warm scent of her spicy chili. "We need to make time for a chili and cornbread dinner," I said.

  "I wouldn't say no to that." We continued on. "Did you find out anything else of interest when you snooped around the site?"

  I rubbed my chin. "Hmm, let me see. Oh yes, how could I forget. I mean I had to do some considerable sneaking. I saw Constance, the woman who I mentioned was Gordon's supposed longtime girlfriend—although, those lines are sort of blurred now, I guess. Anyhow, she walked into Susana's trailer, so I took the liberty of sneaking around the back of the trailer and hunching down below an open window to—" I cleared my throat, "to overhear their conversation."

  Briggs reached around and squeezed me closer. "I'm pretty sure what you just described to me surpasses the definition of overhearing, but continue."

  "During their conversation, Constance was trying to convince Susana to open the show back up. She said they couldn't afford to refund all the tickets."

  "Makes sense," Briggs said. We were just turning the corner. The full scale of the traveling theater caravan loomed into view. "It must cost a fortune to travel from town to town with all these trucks and trailers."

  "Not to mention labor and costumes and salaries for the cast," I added.

  "Right but how do you put on The Wizard of Oz without Dorothy?" Briggs asked.

  "From what I picked up during my little overhearing session, Constance, who normally plays a Munchkin and a flying monkey, reminded Susana that she knew all of Dorothy's lines. Makes sense. I always thought there was an understudy for characters with a big part. Constance could, apparently, step in to take Amanda's place. When I think about it, Constance is a much better match for the iconic Garland Dorothy. She's petite with large round eyes. I'm surprised she wasn't cast for the part in the first place."

  "Did Susana agree?" Briggs asked. "I'm asking less for the case and more for whether or not I have to get out my theater clothes again."

  I laughed lightly and took his arm. "I heard voices and chickened out. I didn't want to get caught snooping under the window. "

  "Probably good thinking. I guess we'll find out soon enough if the show goes on, as they say. But now, let's find that darn Scarecrow."

  Chapter 23

  It just so happened that the first people we stumbled upon were Joan and Carly. They had pulled yoga mats out onto a flat section of grass, and they were just finishing what looked like a meditation session. "These are the girls who gave me the scoop about Amanda hopping from boyfriend to boyfriend. The smaller one is named Joan, and she has a very cool old bomber jacket she begged off her grandfather."

  "Does the jacket have anything to do with the case?" he asked wryly.

  "Nope, just making a general comment about the cool jacket."

  Carly peered up through her long bangs and elbowed her friend, who was still sitting with eyes closed and hands in the prayer position.

  Joan opened her eyes and scowled at Carly for disrupting her meditation. Carly muttered something to her. It was easy enough to figure out what she'd said.

  "Lacey," Joan said politely. "Nice to see you again. Hello, Detective," she said with a noticeable bat of her lashes. She hopped up to her tiny feet. "Have you found the person who killed Amanda? I sure hope it's no one we know. I was just telling Carly before we started our yoga session that I would rather we found out some drifter or crazy person just happened through town and decided to kill someone. That way we wouldn't find out that we've been living with a killer, and we wouldn't lose any more people from the troupe."

  "Of course, understandable," I said, not entirely sure how to respond to her logic. If some random mad killer was on the loose, it would be even more dangerous than if someone had a motive and reason to kill Amanda. "Have either of you seen Gordon Houser?" I asked, sensing that Briggs was ready to move on from Joan and Carly.

  "Not recently," Joan said. She did a quick scan of the area. "His blond hair is usually easy to spot, like a brightly colored car in a parking lot," she added with a laugh. She crinkled her nose up at us. "Why do you need to talk to Gordon?"

  Knowing already that they both liked to gossip about their fellow cast members, I answered briefly. "We just need a few details from him. Nothing important."

  Carly pushed to her feet. "Oh wait, I think I heard him telling someone that he was going for a run on the beach before it got too dark. You might find him there."

  "Great," Briggs said. "Thanks so much." We headed back toward Pickford Way, figuring we weren't going to be able to avoid a walk on the moist sand, but we never even reached the wharf.

  It was easy enough to spot Gordon Houser. He was jogging, with his usual heavy-footed gait, along the sidewalk on Pickford Way. He had on dark sunglasses
and a sweatband circled his head. His straw yellow hair stuck out in every direction. His running shoes were coated in sand.

  He hadn't noticed Briggs and I were the couple walking toward him until Briggs said hello. His chest heaved with breaths as he stopped to find out who was addressing him. He took off his sunglasses.

  "Detective Briggs, did you need to see me? I was running on the beach," he added quickly, making it sound defensive.

  Briggs looked pointedly at his large shoes. "Yes, I can see that. Hope you had a good run. I just needed to talk to you about something." Briggs pulled out his notepad and read from it. "You sent Amanda Seton a text at 3:30 P.M. on Thursday asking her to stay in the tent after dress rehearsal so you two could meet up."

  He blinked at Briggs for a long moment. "No I didn't. I never asked her to stay after dress rehearsal." He shifted uncomfortably on his big feet. "Who told you that? What's this all about? I never sent her a text."

  Briggs spoke calmly to keep Gordon from growing more agitated. "So you didn't send Amanda a text on Thursday at 3:30?"

  "Absolutely not. Whoever told you that is lying. In fact, I'd like to know who told you that. They're obviously trying to frame me. You're looking at the wrong person. I had no reason to kill Amanda. We got along great." He seemed to be genuinely puzzled and irate about the accusation.

  "Mr. Houser, in our evidence search, we gained possession of Miss Seton's phone. There was a short text exchange between the two of you. You asked her to meet you in the tent after dress rehearsal to which she replied that she had a meeting with Susana first and that she'd meet you after."

  "None of this is true," Gordon countered emphatically.

  "So you didn't meet Amanda in the tent after rehearsal?" Briggs prodded.

  "No, like I told you last night, after rehearsal, I went to my trailer for a few shots of whiskey. I fell asleep. That's all. I never saw Amanda after rehearsal."

  "Then you wouldn't mind if we looked at your phone," Briggs suggested.