The Garden Club Murder

by Amy Patricia Meade

  ‘The residents of Coleton Creek sacrificed that right when they started pitting their gardens against each other and fighting with each other like petty school children. Now, I’m sorry you and Mr Davis put so much work into decorating this patio, but I’m afraid everything’s going to have to come down. The garden competition, as well as Sunday’s luncheon, is cancelled.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t abide by your request. You and your husband didn’t hire me, and therefore you can’t fire me.’

  Nathan Knobloch leapt to his wife’s defense. ‘We can if the event in question is being held on our property. This patio is maintained by our management company.’

  ‘Even so, my contract is with the garden club. They’re the ones paying us to cater this event. They’re the ones who need to make the call about cancelling it, not you.’

  ‘Well, Jim Ainsley is going to hear about this,’ Nathan declared before storming off through the lifestyle-center door.

  Mariette followed closely behind but not before casting a withering glance in Tish’s direction.

  When the Knoblochs were safely inside the center and out of earshot, Jules turned to Tish excitedly. ‘Great job standing up to those two.’

  ‘Yeah, for all the difference it’ll make. You just know they’ll be back again.’

  ‘Perhaps Ainsley will talk some sense into them.’

  ‘I certainly hope so. I just don’t get it, Jules. Why are the Knoblochs so opposed to the residents having gardens? Protecting against another crime is one thing, but they’re being completely unreasonable.’

  ‘I think they’re just being plain ol’ straight-up mean.’

  ‘Maybe, but it’s still very odd.’

  ‘So is matching your suit to your spray tan,’ Jules remarked with a shudder.

  ‘Nathan Knobloch is rather monochromatic, isn’t he?’

  ‘Monochromatic? You’re too kind. The man’s so brown, if you set him loose in a UPS warehouse, even the FBI wouldn’t be able to find him.’

  Tish let out a hearty laugh. ‘Well, I think we’re done for the day. How about we get out of here?’

  ‘Oh, Lord, yes.’

  ‘Good. I’m just going to check with Susannah about overnight security. I don’t quite trust the Knoblochs not to return and take down the decorations themselves.’

  ‘Yeah, but they own the place. How will you stop them?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but after I speak with Susannah, I’m going to put in a call to Schuyler to find out.’

  ‘Ooh,’ Jules cooed. ‘Having a hunky attorney boyfriend has its perks.’

  ‘Schuyler Thompson isn’t my boyfriend. We’re keeping things casual and seeing where our relationship might go.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Jules blatantly ‘yessed’ his friend.

  ‘Neither of us wants to rush into anything right now,’ she continued as she led Jules back into the lifestyle center and toward the main entrance of the building.

  ‘Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that Mr Thompson is so into you that I’m surprised his law partners haven’t sent out a search party for his brain.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Schuyler and I are—’

  Tish did not complete the sentence for she was so busy reprimanding Jules that she hadn’t been looking where she was walking. As a result, she bumped directly into a platinum-blond resident traveling down the corridor from the opposite direction.

  ‘Oh!’ the woman exclaimed as a pair of oversized sunglasses tumbled from the bridge of her nose and on to the tiled floor of the lifestyle center, a casualty of the collision.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Tish apologized and knelt down to retrieve the glasses.

  ‘That’s all right, darlin’,’ the woman replied with a thick Southern drawl. ‘Had I taken my dang glasses off, I might have seen you in time to avoid you.’

  ‘No, this was totally my fault. I was busy talking and not watching where I was going. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I won’t hear another word,’ the woman insisted and placed her sunglasses atop her head where they came to rest in a tall tangle of cotton-candy-esque platinum hair. ‘Say, you’re that catering woman, aren’t you?’

  ‘Tish Tarragon, yes. And this is—’

  ‘That is Mr Julian Jefferson Davis,’ the woman sang with glee. ‘My favorite weatherman in the world.’

  Jules, who had been standing silently behind Tish, stepped forward and, in one sweeping motion, took the woman’s braceleted and bejeweled hand in his and bowed. ‘Thank you, Mrs …?’

  ‘Collingsworth. Ms Callie Collingsworth.’

  At mention of her name, Jules let both his jaw and Ms Collingsworth’s hand drop.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked as she brought said hand to the deep V-neck of her caftan-cum-swimsuit-cover-up. ‘Mr Davis, you’ve lost all the color in your face.’

  ‘It’s been a long, difficult day,’ Tish explained, eager to smooth over her friend’s blunder.

  ‘Yes, it has been.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Collingsworth. I was told you and Mr Shackleford were close.’

  ‘As close as anyone could be to Sloane Shackleford.’ She frowned. ‘Are the rumors true? Was he – was Sloane killed with a garden spade?’

  So, Callie Collingsworth knew about the garden spade, as well, Tish mused silently. News of the manner of Shackleford’s death really had spread quickly. ‘Yes, I’m afraid he was,’ she replied.

  ‘Sounds as though someone from the garden club finally took their revenge on Sloane for winning all these years.’ Callie gave a sardonic laugh. ‘Should have figured it would catch up with him some day, but Sloane couldn’t help it. He was such a competitive bastard.’

  At Callie’s use of the word ‘bastard,’ Tish and Jules’s eyes doubled in size.

  Callie Collingsworth took obvious delight in their surprise. ‘That’s right. I called him a bastard. Because he could be an awful one if he put his mind to it. Still, he had many good points. You know how he won the garden competition? By understanding all the different angles his competitors might use to take the trophy from him. Orson Baggett’s garden was full of history, so Sloane made the classic English rill the center of his garden and surrounded it with privet hedges. Wren Harper prided herself on her pond and apple trees, so Sloane put in a koi pond and silver birches. The highlight of the Abercrombies’ garden is their gazebo, so Sloane built a stone patio with a waterfall. He was brilliant.’

  ‘And clearly quite wealthy,’ Tish remarked.

  ‘As my daddy used to say, it’s just as easy to love a rich man as a poor one,’ she gleamed. ‘So is the luncheon still on for this Sunday?’

  ‘Yes. Jim Ainsley is committed to ensuring everything goes ahead as planned.’

  ‘Good. Sloane would have wanted that. He always enjoyed the competition and the luncheon. Mostly because he relished the opportunity to wind people up, but he also genuinely liked the event: the food, the cheesy trophies, the women in their tacky dresses and hats. Of course, he loved winning, as well. He would have won this year’s competition too, I’m sure.’

  ‘But Mr Ainsley told us it was anyone’s competition.’

  ‘Of course he did,’ Callie defended. ‘And to be fair, Jim wasn’t entirely wrong. He just wasn’t aware of Sloane’s secret weapon.’

  Tish’s face was a question.

  ‘Biscuit, Sloane’s pet Bichon Frise. The little doggie’s taken a liking to visiting other people’s gardens.’

  ‘Earlier today we heard Orson Baggett complain about a nocturnal visit from Biscuit that destroyed an entire patch of pachysandra,’ Jules stated.

  ‘Are you telling us that Mr Shackleford encouraged Biscuit to engage in that kind of behavior?’ Tish was aghast.

  ‘No, I wouldn’t say he encouraged Biscuit, but he certainly didn’t stop the dog either. Every night, instead of walking Biscuit, Sloane would leave the back gate open to let him roam free. Not only did it
free Sloane’s time for, ahem, other things, but he loved to hear the complaints the next morning. As I said, Sloane enjoyed winding people up.’ Callie stared off at a spot somewhere behind Jules and Tish and narrowed her eyes as if straining to recall something. ‘Funny thing is, when I talked to him about it, Sloane vehemently denied that his dog caused the yellowing in Orson’s and the Abercrombies’ gardens.’

  ‘Well, if Mr Shackleford openly admitted that he knew his dog was sabotaging other people’s gardens, he might have been kicked out of the competition,’ Tish reasoned.

  ‘Yeah, but it was just me asking him. He had no reason to lie or cover up. He knew I’d never report him. I couldn’t care less about the garden competition. A contest where someone wins a trophy for most beautiful magnolia blossom or largest zucchini? I’d rather shear a pig.’

  Tish had no doubt the woman was telling the truth. Callie Collingsworth was clearly more interested in money and all its trappings than horticultural pursuits. ‘So if Biscuit wasn’t responsible for the lost plant life in the neighborhood gardens, who or what was?’

  ‘How in Sam Hill should I know? Do I look like Mrs Green Jeans?’ Callie mocked. ‘All I can tell you is that Sloane went to the management about it.’

  ‘The management? The Knoblochs?’

  ‘If you mean Morticia and Gomez Addams, then yes.’

  At Callie Collingsworth’s description of Coleton Creek’s developers, Jules howled with laughter. ‘Morticia and Gomez. O. M. G. That is perfect!’

  Even Tish had a giggle. ‘What did he discuss with them?’

  Callie screwed up her mouth ‘Other than the fact that Biscuit wasn’t to blame for the other gardeners’ complaints, I haven’t the foggiest.’

  ‘Hmm, it’s odd you mention the Knoblochs. They’re two of just a handful of people who are against the luncheon and competition going on as planned.’

  ‘I’m sure I can guess who else is opposed to the idea,’ Callie sneered, but she didn’t wait for confirmation. ‘The fact of the matter is Pepper Aviero didn’t know Sloane the way I did. She didn’t accept him for the way he was, the way I did. Sloane Shackleford was a scalawag, rogue, and liar, but he was my scalawag, rogue, and liar.’

  Tish was at a loss to known to how to respond, but Callie Collingsworth did not give her the opportunity. She flipped her giant sunglasses down on to the bridge of her nose, hiked her swim bag higher on to her shoulder, and prepared for departure. ‘You stick to your guns regarding the luncheon, Miss Tarragon. The competition and award ceremony should go on as if nothing has happened. If it had been any one of us lying in their backyards, murdered, I can guarantee you Sloane Shackleford wouldn’t have even stopped for a moment of silence. You can take that to the bank.’

  SIX

  ‘What do you mean, you won’t take the case?’ Jules asked as Tish navigated the Matrix back into Hobson Glen.

  ‘Simple. There is no case for me to take.’

  ‘A retired businessman has been beaten to death with a garden spade. If that isn’t a case, I don’t know what is.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s a case for the police, not me. “Taking the case” implies that someone asked me to investigate when, on the contrary, Sheriff Reade asked me not to get involved.’

  ‘That’s just because he’s sore at you for solving the last murder,’ Jules pooh-poohed.

  ‘I highly doubt it, but whatever his reason, I plan to respect his request. Between the café, the garden luncheon, and other catering jobs, I have enough on my agenda. Besides, there’s no legitimate reason for me to get involved. Last time, my business and reputation were at risk. This time around, no one outside Coleton Creek or our little circle of friends even knows I’m working there.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised if Enid Kemper knew something. Not only is she the town eccentric, but I swear she sends that parrot of hers out on reconnaissance missions. Kinda like the Wicked Witch of the West and her flying monkeys.’

  Tish chuckled and drove on to the café, where she noticed a familiar silver minivan in the parking lot. ‘That’s odd. It’s after five o’clock. Celestine was supposed to close up two hours ago.’

  ‘We were also supposed to be back two hours ago. Maybe she got swamped at the last minute. You know how customers always come in just as you’re starting to clean up.’

  ‘Yeah, but that shouldn’t have taken two hours.’

  ‘Maybe they were messy. Or chatty. You know Celestine – she can’t leave untidiness behind, or a conversation.’

  ‘True, but still …’ As Tish pulled the Matrix into the Cookin’ the Books parking lot, she still couldn’t let go of the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. A feeling borne out as she and Jules climbed the front-door steps to find the main door wide open, but the screen door latched.

  ‘Celestine?’ Tish peered through the screen into the darkened café.

  No sooner had the words left her lips than Tish’s trusty assistant and dessert-maker appeared in the doorway and unhooked the latch. Her substantial frame was clothed in her customary uniform of denim capris, loose-fitting floral blouse, and a black Cookin’ the Books apron, and her short, cherry-tinted hair was layered and gelled for maximum volume. ‘Sorry, I wanted some fresh air without all the foot traffic,’ she explained over the top of her hot-pink reading glasses.

  ‘That’s fine. Is everything OK? It’s awfully late for you to still be here.’

  As Tish swung open the screen door and entered the café, Celestine stepped aside and gestured to the row of tables nearest the windows. There, at the table farthest from the door, sat Mary Jo Okensholt, her face puffy, tear-stained, and red. At the sight of Tish and Jules, she stood up and rushed toward her friends.

  ‘MJ,’ Jules addressed her as he gathered the T-shirt-and-legging-attired Mary Jo in an embrace. ‘What’s going on? You weren’t in an accident, were you? Your car isn’t in the lot.’

  ‘I parked around the corner. I got here when the café was busy. I forgot you two were prepping for Coleton Creek today.’

  ‘OK, but something’s wrong. What is it?’

  Mary Jo gazed down at the floor, her lips trembling.

  ‘Is it the kids?’ Tish quizzed before taking her turn hugging Mary Jo. ‘Please tell me Gregory and Kayla are all right.’

  ‘They are. It’s … it’s Glen.’ Mary Jo broke into sobs, dampening the shoulder of Tish’s dress.

  ‘Oh my God, what’s happened?’

  ‘H–h–he asked me for a divorce. He says he doesn’t love me anymore.’

  Jules and Tish gaped at each other. This was not the answer either of them had expected to hear.

  After several moments’ silence and several more embraces, they accompanied Mary Jo back to the table near the window. Celestine, in the meantime, had wandered off to the kitchen.

  ‘I just can’t believe it,’ Jules muttered, taking a seat to Mary Jo’s left.

  ‘I can’t either,’ Tish agreed in astonishment, as she sat in the seat opposite Mary Jo.

  ‘Is Glen going through a midlife crisis or something?’ Jules asked.

  ‘Yeah, I mean, this doesn’t sound like the Glen we know at all,’ Tish echoed.

  ‘I wish it were just a midlife crisis,’ Mary Jo sniffed. ‘Glen stayed home from work this morning, said he would go in to the office later for some meetings. I did my usual morning stuff, made sure the kids got off to school and had what they needed for the day. When I got back home, Glen had made my favorite breakfast. Poached eggs on toast with smoked salmon. I thought he had taken the morning off so we could spend some time together. Just last weekend we’d discussed how, with this being Greg’s last year of high school and with Kayla turning sixteen soon and needing us a bit less, we could take some time to go on dates again. I thought breakfast was Glen’s way of saying he was looking forward to the next chapter in our lives, but instead …’

  Mary Jo paused and extracted some tissues from a nearby box. As she blew her nose loudly, Celestine returned f
rom the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade and four glasses and proceeded to serve.

  ‘It was after breakfast, when I was clearing the table, that Glen told me he had some news,’ Mary Jo continued. ‘He told me he’d been seeing someone else. Someone who made him feel young and exciting and alive again. Someone he wants to be with from now on. All the time. Forever.’

  ‘Good Lord!’ Jules exclaimed. ‘What is wrong with that man?’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Mary Jo.’ Tish felt a lump form in her throat, but knew that crying alongside her friend wouldn’t help matters.

  ‘All those nights he said he was working!’ Mary Jo’s mood swiftly progressed from grief to anger. ‘All those weekends he was “at the office” instead of being home with his family. All the business trips. It was all a lie. He was with her.’

  ‘He lied about his work schedule? He actually admitted it?’ Jules was horrified.

  Mary Jo nodded. ‘Yes, but only after I asked him, the coward.’

  ‘Oh, just let me go to my car and grab the tire iron out of the trunk. I’m going to drive to Glen’s office and whack him right in the knees.’

  Tish kicked Jules beneath the table. ‘Shh. You’re not helping, Tonya Harding.’

  Mary Jo laughed through her tears. ‘No, it’s OK. I thought of doing worse than that, but, in the end he’s still Kayla and Gregory’s father.’

  ‘Speaking of which, do the kids know yet?’

  ‘Gregory does. He came home for lunch while Glen and I were right in the middle of everything. Gregory completely lost it. He’s furious at his father for breaking up our family, and although I did my best to defend Glen as a father, I can’t defend or explain what he’s done. Not to Gregory, not to anyone.’

  ‘And Kayla? Does she know?’

  Mary Jo shook her head. ‘She went to her shift at Chick-fil-A right after school. She gets off at eight.’

  ‘Well, we’ll go meet her. Together.’

  ‘All three of us,’ Jules asserted. ‘She and Gregory can always rely on their Uncle Jules and Auntie Tish.’

  Tish nodded. ‘Have you and Glen made plans for the house?’