We walked hand in hand toward his car.
I looked up at his profile. He was such a handsome man. Not pretty boy handsome, but rugged and with an inner strength to match his physical muscle. “Mmm, that sounds promising.”
“Keep it in mind.” At the steps to my apartment, he kissed me softly.
“How can I not?” I sighed and turned and went upstairs and he drove away.
***
After Kurt left, I thought about talking to Grandpa. I walked back downstairs and stood in the open doorway. He’d donned his twill coveralls and had the hood of his old Ford open. I knew he came here for his own private time, so I merely called, “Good night,” and climbed the stairs.
When I entered my apartment, the answering machine’s blinking red light caught my attention. Most people called me at work, so I didn’t usually have messages now that telemarketers were limited.
I punched Play. Aunt Clarice suggested I bring my young man to her place Sunday evening for dinner with the family. I sighed. Poor Kurt. I’d known him less than two weeks and the family had us good as married with children.
The other was a hang up call and that bothered me. Two days in a row I’d had a hang up and I wondered who would call and not leave a message. Hoping that if the reason for calling was important, he’d call back, I went to bed.
The next morning, I was thinking of Kurt while I drove to Rockwell’s garden project. One good thing had come of Vance Rockwell’s horrible murder. I’d met Kurt. I supposed I’d have met him eventually, but I wondered at the workings of fate, destiny, and coincidence. Deciding that was too weighty for this early in the day, I turned in at the Rockwell estate’s gate.
As I approached the house, a horrible replay of last week’s scene greeted me. I saw the flashing lights of an ambulance in front of the house. I pulled over and parked, and the ambulance sped past me with sirens blaring. Devlin and Bootsy followed in Devlin’s car and it appeared Bootsy was crying.
I trudged to where Miguel stood and watched the vehicles’ departure. I asked, “Any idea what happened?”
“That Rockwell kid, he don’t wake up this morning.”
My knees almost gave way and I grabbed Miguel’s arm for support. “Sam’s dead?”
He patted my hand. “Not dead, but he don’t wake up. The others, they eat breakfast on the terrace. I hear Señora Rockwell, she scream for people to come quick and help Sam.”
I exhaled with relief. At least he hadn’t been murdered like his father. “Any idea what’s going on?”
“No. Not our business. We keep working, like nothing happened.” He jerked a thumb at the house. “Those left, maybe they’ll talk to you.”
I debated, wondering at my reception from Kay Douglas and Lionel Wyatt. Curiosity wins every time with me. “At least I can find out where he’s been taken.” I trekked to the front door and rang the bell.
The same snippy maid who’d been there when I signed the guest book after Rockwell’s death answered the door. She didn’t smile, but she stepped aside for me to come in.
I never entered this house without feeling I’d walked into a museum. The opulence created the atmosphere of a showplace more than of a home.
“Sorry to bother you but I saw the ambulance. Can you tell me which hospital Sam’s been taken to?”
“I’ll ask Miss Douglas.” She disappeared, leaving me standing in the elegant foyer.
Left alone, I touched the shining gold foyer wall to see if it was metal, foil, or some other material. Appalled, I saw my fingerprints were clearly visible. I rubbed at them gently with the hem of my shirt, praying the foil didn’t tear away from the backing or discolor. I’d barely erased my error when I heard heels clicking against the marble hall floor. I backed away from the wall and Kay Douglas appeared.
She was dressed in white linen slacks and a yellow cotton sweater. The yellow and white scarf at her throat contrasted with her dark brown hair. “Sam’s gone to the McKinney hospital.” She looked at me as if I were a bit of dog poop on her yellow Jimmy Choos.
Feeling frumpy by comparison in my Keds and work clothes, I said, “I’m Heather Cameron, the landscaper. I-I hope it’s nothing serious.”
She looked at me a moment then said, “Too soon to know how serious it might be.”
“Oh. I’ll check on him later today. Thank you for your time.” I turned to leave.
“You’ve dated Devlin, haven’t you?”
I pivoted and faced her. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have.” I wanted to add, what’s it to you? but I didn’t. Thank goodness that innate demon kept quiet this time.
She gave me another appraising look, but I couldn’t tell whether or not she approved. Since I shopped at mid range department stores instead of buying haute couture, probably not.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll be in touch. Have a nice day.” She turned and walked away.
The same maid opened the door for me then shut it the second I stepped across the threshold. Without Bootsy or Devlin here, this was not a friendly place.
Chapter Twenty
I drove to the garden center. When I arrived inside, Chelsea was creating a cactus dish garden in one of the brightly decorated Mexican pots.
What? Did earth just tilt on its axis?
Instead of her usual trendy costume, she wore jeans and a garden center T-shirt neatly tucked into her waistband. Sedate small earrings were in the three holes in her ears. She wore a plain leather belt that matched her loafers.
In place of her normally bright smile and cheerful greeting, she barely looked up. “Hello, Heather.”
“Who are you and what have you done with the real Chelsea Bedford?”
She sent me a glance but didn’t answer. Or laugh. Not even a grin graced her pale pink lips. She was working on one of our new shallow pots about fourteen inches in diameter and six inches high. In the center she’d placed a fat echinocactus grusinii, commonly called a golden barrel cactus.
“Mrs. Markham wants a cactus dish garden.” She pointed to where several cacti sat on the potting table near me. “Hand me that old man cactus, would you?”
I gave her the one whose drooping silvery needles resembled gray hair. She stabbed at the potting soil as if it had offended her, but gently slipped the plant into the hole she’d made.
I waited until she’d also added a stubby Noto then, as if I didn’t know something major had occurred, I asked, “Everything okay?”
“Sure. What could be wrong?” Her voice sounded unconvincing. “You think five cobweb houseleeks will fill this out?”
“It should.” I wanted to tell her about Sam, but didn’t know how upset she’d be, so I asked, “You and Sam getting serious?”
She shrugged. “A guy like him with me? I don’t kid myself he’ll fall madly in love with me or anything, but he’s fun while it lasts.” She sounded wistful, and I wondered if she was in for heartbreak if he moved on before she did. Or, stranger things had happened, what if they were both serious about the relationship?
“What do you mean ‘a guy like him’ with you? You’re a great person and he’s lucky you’re seeing him.” I supposed I shouldn’t judge Sam from the one time I’d seen him at what I certainly hoped was his worst.
She shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t kid myself.” After lightly watering in the cacti, she poured fine gravel around them and set the dish aside. “I’ll set this behind the counter. She’s already paid for it and will be by this afternoon to pick it up.” She wrote Mrs. Markham’s name on a sticky note and slapped it on the side of the pot then started to move away.
I took a breath and laid my hand on her arm. “Sam Rockwell is on his way to the hospital, but I don’t know why.”
“Sam’s sick?” She set the dish back on the potting table with a clunk and looked up at me. She’d turned so ashen I thought she might faint.
Could this be carefree Chelsea? I grabbed for her. “Maybe you should sit down.” I led her into my office where I seated her in the chair beside m
y desk. Filling her in on the few details I knew, I grabbed a Dr Pepper and handed it to her.
Mechanically, she took the soda but didn’t open it. “Maybe Devlin will call and let you know what’s going on.”
“Maybe.” I took the can from her and popped the top. “Drink.”
When she had taken a few sips, I opened my own Dr Pepper and sat at my desk. “Now, to continue our conversation. What do you mean, you don’t kid yourself about you and Sam?”
She shrugged. “He’s wealthy and I’m...well, I’m definitely not wealthy.”
“You’re gorgeous and smart and funny. What more could he want?”
“How about someone his family would approve of?”
“And why wouldn’t they approve of you? You eat with a fork, walk upright, and bathe every day. And I know all that’s been hard to learn when you live in a cave with bears.”
I’d expected her to laugh, and the old Chelsea would have. But when this alien Chelsea looked up, her face displayed a bleak expression.
“Okay, what’s this all about?”
She looked down at her hands.
I said, “Give, Chelsea.”
“His aunt dropped by yesterday while you were out.” She glanced up and met my gaze. “Just to look around, or so she said. Heather, she looked at everything. Studied all our displays, even the posters and the display of heirloom flower seeds. Then she bought some ‘lovely little plants’ for her herb garden.”
“Yeah? What’d she buy?”
“Let’s see...lavender, lemongrass, and valerian.”
“Odd she’d buy them here when she’s staying at the Rockwells’. Seems like she’d wait until she went back to Dallas.”
Chelsea met my gaze. “Oh, Heather, wake up. She just wanted an excuse to come in and check me out. Maybe she thought a purchase would make her coming here appear as if she’d come to shop for her home garden instead.”
“Whatever. Forget the plants. She obviously said something that upset you.”
“You think?” Her lower lip trembled. “She made it clear I’m lower than dirt, just the hired help, and not worthy of dating Sam. She made me feel lower than Rascal’s dog poop.”
That set my temper boiling. “First of all, she’s Devlin’s aunt, but she’s not even related to Sam. Second, and more importantly, you’re every bit as good as anyone in that household or any other.”
Chelsea shrugged and looked at her soft drink. “Easy for you to say. You’re old money. I’m old poor. Little Miss Nobody and never likely to be more than your assistant. Kay Douglas asked if it was depressing to work in a dead end job.”
She looked up, as if afraid she’d hurt my feelings. Although I’d dropped hints, she didn’t realize that even though my family was wealthy on paper, we now relied on the garden center income until Grandpa’s investments recovered. If they did. No time to go into that situation.
Instead, I said, “What a witch! You’re the best, Chelsea, and you’re the shop manager, not just my assistant. You know that. Don’t let her make you think she’s any better than you are.”
“It’s not as if I even want to do anything else. I like it here. She makes me feel as if I should have greater ambitions. Like maybe I should knock you off and get your grandparents to adopt me or something.”
I laughed. “Well, I hope you’re not considering that one.”
She rubbed her forehead. “I know it’s crazy, but she acted as if it’s wrong to like it here, to be satisfied with being your shop assist—“ she looked up. “Your shop manger. She was so snooty and snotty, that she had me believing she was right.”
“Yeah? Well, don’t think she was any nicer to me this morning when I went to see what had happened.” I tipped my nose in the air and mimicked, “’You’ve dated Devlin, haven’t you?’ Oooohhh, she has some nerve.”
“But you’re the manager with a fancy degree and same as the owner here. Your family has tons and tons of money, even though you don’t throw it around like Bootsy Rockwell does. One day this and their home will be all yours. It’s different for you.” She put her hands against her cheeks. “Oh, Heather, if you could have seen the way she looked at me. And I was dressed, well, far out even for me.”
I remembered the rhinestone in her belly button and the amount of skin displayed. Sometimes her fashions were over the top. She was usually so cheerful and helpful that customers didn’t seem to mind her dress, and I saw no reason to complain. Chelsea was smart, efficient, and a hard worker.
“Is that what this is all about?” I gestured at her subdued, for her, clothes. “I’m shocked at your response to her visit. Surely you aren’t going to let that shrewish woman dent your confidence or change the way you dress and act? Don’t forget which version of yourself attracted Sam."
She shrugged again. “Maybe she’s right. Oh, Heather, he wants to go into politics.”
I wished I could smack Kay Douglas for being so mean-spirited. “Man, she did a number on you. You’re not going to let her get away with it, are you?” Before she could answer, I nudged her knee with my foot. “So, you really like Sam, huh?”
She blushed, uncharacteristic for her. “A lot.” She sipped her drink. “I wish we knew what was going on. Would you call the hospital?”
“They won’t have had time to know anything yet.” I asked this new Chelsea, “You and he talking the big M?”
“I can’t see him with me permanently.” She grimaced. “Can you see me married to a state representative or a senator?”
“Why not?”
She rolled her eyes. “Kay Douglas could tell you.”
“Hey, she’s the almost-ran.” I told her about Rockwell jilting Kay to marry Bootsy. “I suspect she’s a bitter woman who gets her kicks manipulating others.”
“She’s manipulative all right.”
“And what she says has nothing to do with what Sam thinks or feels. Bootsy is a nice woman. I’m sure she wants her son to be happy. If that means being with you, she’s bound to approve.” I nudged her again. “Right?”
“Maybe.” She offered a tentative smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“And next time Kay Douglas prisses in, we’ll invite the witch to leave, right?”
She giggled. “Bet that’s never happened to her.”
“We’ll be groundbreakers. Get it?”
For some reason, my stupid pun sent Chelsea into peals of giggles. Nerves, I suppose. I joined in, happy to see her happy face return.
We went back to work and gave it our best until noon, then I called the hospital and asked for information. The operator wouldn’t answer my questions because my name wasn’t on the privacy form. All she said was Sam couldn’t have calls or flowers because he was in ICU.
When I went out to tell Chelsea, I saw Millie Ormond at the perennial tables out front. She carried a couple of pots of pink vinca, and kept glancing toward the office. After I relayed the hospital information to Chelsea, I went out to speak to Millie.
“How are you, Millie?”
She looked relieved I’d seen her. Her smile made her look less of a frightened rabbit. “I hoped I’d see you. There’s something else I wanted to tell you. If you have time, that is.”
“Certainly. Would you like to come into my office? It’s air conditioned and we can sit down.”
She set down the vinca and followed me inside. She took the seat in front of my desk. I offered her a soft drink, but she declined so I sat across from her.
She folded her hands in her lap. “Sharee said you believed me the other day. Today, a policeman came by to ask me about Frank’s death. I, well, I want to thank you. You don’t know how much it means to me.” She fluttered a hand to her chest. A genteel gesture that reminded me she’d once been a beautiful young woman, probably sought after by many men.
I returned her smile, hoping to put her at ease. “You’re more than welcome. I was hoping they’d find it a homicide and you could collect the life insurance.”
“We could us
e it, of course. It’s more important to have his name cleared, for people to know he didn’t kill himself.”
“Rockwell was a terrible man. Although I don’t know any specific information, I understand the police have uncovered lots of bad stuff about that man.”
She shifted nervously. “You don’t know all of it. I didn’t think you’d believe me before.”
“I believed you all right. It sounds just the sort of rotten thing Vance Rockwell would do.” I watched her. “There’s more?”
She took a deep breath. “You know my Frank and Vance were cousins. Their mothers were sisters. Their maternal grandmother had a farm down south a little, at Prosper.”
“My, that’s valuable land now. Was it near the highway?”
She nodded. “Right on Highway 75. Highway 5 cut through the farm.”
“So it would be worth a lot just for the land these days, even if the house wasn’t on it?”
“Oh, yes. It was valuable even when Vance sold it.”
A chill slid up my spine. “Vance? Why not Frank too?”
“You’re a smart woman, just like Sharee said. Well, Mama Jessup—that’s what we all called Frank’s grandmother—she had a will that named Frank as executor. Sad when a woman can’t trust her own grandson, but she didn’t want Vance having anything to do with taking care of the inheritance for her two daughters, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.”
It’d never occurred to me that either man might have siblings. I leaned forward. “Were there other grandchildren besides Frank and Vance?”
“Frank had two sisters. One died in a car accident when she was a young woman. Oldest one moved to New Mexico. Her husband worked at Los Alamos, but now he has his own construction company up near Taos.”
“But that’s not what you came to tell me?”
“No. Like I said, Frank was executor and had power of attorney. It was all done years before she died and a copy of the will was with her attorney and another with Frank.” She shook her head. “That Vance. I don’t know how he did it, but he had another will, newer.”
Death In The Garden Page 19
