The Garden Club Murder

by Amy Patricia Meade

  Sliding her cotton pique robe over her nightgown, Tish padded downstairs to find Clemson Reade waiting on the front porch.

  She unlatched the main door and then the screen. ‘Hello,’ she welcomed with a question in her voice.

  Reade was sporting his usual stubble, but instead of a T-shirt and jeans, he was dressed in a button-down shirt and dark trousers. ‘Morning. Sorry for bothering you so early, but I’m on my way to town hall and I wanted to deliver something.’

  Parked behind Reade was his standard sheriff’s car as well as a dark-red four-door sedan from which a man in a mechanic’s jumpsuit alighted. He approached the porch with a set of keys. ‘She’s all yours,’ he announced as he handed them to Tish.

  ‘Mine?’

  ‘Albert here runs the garage on the edge of town. We use him to tow wrecks and to service all our vehicles. I asked him to get you set up with a car rental while yours is being repaired.’

  ‘Thank you, but I haven’t called my insurance company yet.’

  ‘No worries. When you do, just call Albert with the claim number, the name of the insurance company, and your driver’s license information, and he’ll put his paperwork through. Until then, he’s letting you borrow this as a favor to me.’

  ‘Even though I’m pretty sure you owe me one, Clem,’ Albert quipped before hopping into the passenger seat of the sheriff’s car.

  ‘This is amazing. Thank you.’

  ‘You can’t very well be a caterer without a vehicle,’ Clemson explained.

  ‘True. And I do have to pick up a couple of serving pieces I accidentally left at Coleton Creek yesterday.’

  ‘Yeah, about that. I got an unofficial preliminary report from the coroner and Ms Morris’s cancer had metastasized throughout her entire body. She also said there was a tumor pressing on Ms Morris’s heart that might have caused her cardiac arrest. As I said, nothing is official, so don’t go telling anyone, but I thought you’d want to know just in case … well, just in case you were afraid you may have precipitated something. I know I wondered about it myself.’

  Tish nodded. ‘Thank you. That puts my mind somewhat at ease. Not much, but somewhat. The person I really feel bad for is Orson Baggett. He truly was in love with Zadie.’

  Sheriff Reade cleared his throat and awkwardly shifted his feet. ‘Shame. Well, I’d better get going. I have reports to prepare and file.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks again, Clemson. For everything.’

  ‘No problem. See ya in the morning for my usual.’

  ‘Sure I can’t interest you in the special? I was going to test-run Children of the Corned Beef Hash, but since Opal said there’s a bunch more peppers coming my way, I’ve opted for The Grits of Wrath instead.’

  ‘Silly question, but why are your grits angry?’

  Tish laughed. ‘They’re not really. They’re just topped by a pair of eggs poached in a fiery tomato-and-pepper sauce.’

  ‘Ah. Sounds delicious but—’

  ‘But you’ll stick with Portrait of the Artist as a Young Ham. I get it. You’re a man of routine.’

  ‘Not necessarily. I’m a musician. I can improvise. Someday I might just surprise you.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Tish replied as she waved farewell and went back inside to put on a pot of coffee.

  The night’s sleep, combined with the prospect of a relaxing lunch and shopping trip with Mary Jo, had done wonders for Tish’s mindset and energy levels. Although still saddened by Zadie Morris’s confession and death, and dreading the visit to Coleton Creek to collect the remainder of her kitchen stock, she was determined to make the best of the day.

  As the coffee brewed, she went back outside and, in anticipation of transplanting them, dug up the lilies from their concrete planter and placed them in a set of plastic pots she had saved from her last garden center visit.

  With that task complete, she settled in at a café table with her laptop to catch up on the news of the day while drinking coffee and consuming a leisurely breakfast of seeded wholewheat toast topped with mashed avocado.

  Her stomach pleasantly full, Tish yawned and stretched and then went upstairs to get dressed. Having thrown on her favorite red polka-dot dress and a pair of canvas espadrilles, she smeared daily moisturizer on to her face and set about applying some makeup, only to find her cosmetics bag missing from its usual spot in the drawer of the bathroom vanity.

  Recalling that she had taken the bag with her to Coleton Creek for touch-ups on her cuts and bruises, she traveled to the bedroom and reached into the red handbag she carried everywhere. As she did so, her fingertips came in contact with the two velvet drawstring bags from Zadie.

  Tish opened one bag, only to find the Pink Organza lipstick favored by Jules’s mother. Putting that aside, she opened the second bag and extracted the intricately carved golden tube to reveal a deep red named Joie de Vivre. With everything that had transpired, she lost track of the fact that Zadie had promised her a tube of the limited-edition product.

  Fighting back tears, Tish took the tube of lipstick and her cosmetic bag into the bathroom and focused, instead, on getting ready. Opening the gorgeously retro tube of Joie de Vivre, she gave the swivel mechanism a few turns and then guided the lipstick across her bottom lip. She had forgotten just how supremely smooth and how vibrantly pigmented Zadie lipstick was. The creamy unctuousness of the product filled all lines and crevices in its path, yet wasn’t waxy like most drugstore brands. And the color was sublime – a dark brick-red with blue tones.

  Tish gave her top lip a thin coat and then blotted by kissing a sheet of facial tissue. She smiled in the mirror to survey her handiwork. The shade was a perfect complement to Tish’s fair skin, boosting the rosiness of her complexion while amplifying its creamy whiteness. Zadie was right. It was truly incredible what just a simple smear of lipstick could do for a face.

  Lipstick.

  Zadie claimed that she never stepped out of her front door without a full face of makeup or a swipe of lipstick, even if it was just to take a walk or pick up her mail. Yet the day Tish, Jules, and Jim Ainsley discovered Sloane Shackleford’s body, Zadie’s face was scrubbed clean.

  Scrubbed clean even though Zadie claimed to have been out taking a walk.

  It was possible that Zadie might have overstated her reliance upon cosmetics, but Tish didn’t think so. Every other time she’d seen Zadie, she was impeccably made up.

  Which begged the question: why was Zadie not wearing makeup the day Shackleford died? Zadie stated that she had been on a walk, returned home, killed Shackleford, and then resumed her walk as if nothing had happened. She also claimed that she had only just finished that walk when she saw Tish, Jules, and Ainsley in Shackleford’s garden.

  However, Zadie’s complete lack of makeup suggested that she was at home. So why would Zadie have lied? She’d already confessed to the murder; why lie about where she was prior to the discovery of the body?

  Also, Tucker Abercrombie claimed not to have passed anyone along his journey to and from Shackleford’s house. Tish had assumed Tucker’s timeline was slightly off and that he had arrived at Shackleford’s a bit later than eleven thirty, meaning that he and Zadie had, quite literally, just missed each other. But what if Tucker’s time estimates were correct? Where was Zadie? Why didn’t Tucker see her walking about the neighborhood?

  Simple. Because she wasn’t there.

  Zadie’s lack of makeup – including lipstick, the anchor of any makeup-wearer’s arsenal – suggested she wasn’t out and about, but indoors, at home. But why lie about it?

  Tish felt her skin go clammy and her heart begin to race. There was only one possible reason Zadie would have lied: to protect someone else.

  If Zadie had been at home, she could have seen the murder transpire. Both Zadie’s kitchen window and her expansive bedroom windows afforded a perfect view of the patio next door. Zadie could easily have been in either room when Shackleford was murdered. But then, why not tell the police that? Why confess to a murder she di
dn’t commit?

  Terminally ill, Zadie had nothing to lose by confessing to the crime, but for whom would she be willing to go so far to protect? Orson Baggett?

  No, Orson was a man in love. He wouldn’t have allowed Zadie to take the blame for a crime he had committed. No, there was only one other person in Coleton Creek for whom Zadie would have been willing to make such a sacrifice. A person who could have left the scene of the crime and not have been seen by Tucker Abercrombie.

  A person who had also lost a son.

  Tish called Mary Jo to cancel their lunch plans and drove to Coleton Creek, reaching the gates at approximately twelve o’clock. She was surprised to see Susannah Hilton driving through the gates in the opposite direction.

  ‘Going to grab lunch,’ Susannah shouted through her open driver’s side window.

  ‘I thought you were fired,’ Tish replied.

  ‘I was, but the president of the homeowners’ association called me back to work last night. The board had a meeting this morning and I’m interim manager. A formal vote will be held among all residents at the end of the month, but it looks like I’m a shoe-in for the permanent position.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news. Congratulations! I know how much this place means to you.’

  ‘Yeah, I look forward to staying on. Oh, if you’re here for your serveware, I stacked it and put it behind my desk.’

  Tish thanked Susannah and the two parted ways. Thinking it best to collect her serveware before any emotional distractions caused her to forget it, she stopped off at the lifestyle center before moving on to Wren Harper’s house. There, she found Ms Harper, in a white sundress, sitting by the pond in her prize-winning garden.

  ‘Ms Tarragon,’ Wren greeted, her face registering both surprise and alarm. ‘What brings you here?’

  ‘Ms Harper. I think we should go inside to talk. It’s more private.’

  Wren agreed and led Tish through the garden and into the back kitchen door. ‘Would you like some sweet tea?’ she offered as she waved Tish to sit at the kitchen table.

  Tish refused both the seat and the tea. ‘Shame about Zadie Morris, isn’t it?’

  Wren’s eyes welled with tears. ‘Yes. She was a good woman.’

  ‘I can’t believe she murdered Sloane Shackleford, can you?’

  ‘No,’ Wren answered as her body convulsed into sobs.

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ Tish challenged. ‘The story Zadie told me about Shackleford making degrading remarks that morning – you were the recipient of those remarks, not her. Is that why you murdered him?’

  ‘I don’t know what came over me. I was in my garden pulling weeds, trying to ignore him out there sunning himself while I was breaking my back, but he called out to me. He called to me and told me I was wasting my time, seeing as he was going to win the competition. I tried, again, to ignore him, but then he … he mentioned my boy, Benjamin. He said, “Sorry, I forgot that’s all you have left, isn’t it? There’s really nothing else left for you to fuss over since your boy got killed.” Then he made some comment about how had my son been smarter and taught how to fight better, he might not be gone. I–I couldn’t see straight I was so angry. I’d only just gotten Benjamin’s dog tags in the mail that morning. My daughter-in-law sent them so that part of Benjamin could be with me at the competition. I guess I was in a state after receiving them and maybe down with the heat or … I don’t know. I just don’t know what came over me, but I went around the fence and saw the spade lying against Shackleford’s garage, grabbed it, and brought it down on his head. I don’t remember how many times I hit him. I just remember I wanted him to stop sneering at me. I think I must have blacked out because the next thing I remember after hitting him was Ms Morris standing beside me. That’s when I realized what I’d done. Oh, the blood! I thought I’d be going to jail, but Ms Morris told me not to worry. She took the spade, wiped my fingerprints from the handle, put it down on the patio, and told me to go home and say I’d been inside to escape the heat.’

  ‘That’s why you’d been crying that day,’ Tish presumed.

  ‘Yes, I was terrified someone would find out what I’d done.’

  ‘But Zadie handled it. Did you know she was going to confess?’

  ‘No. The day after, when she came with me to talk to the police, she said, if needed, she’d do something that would take all suspicion away from me. But if she did it, I needed to promise I’d leave Coleton Creek and move in with my daughter-in-law and grandbabies. I argued with her and told her I didn’t want her doing anything that might get her into trouble, but she insisted. She said she’d had a boy once, but she did him wrong. Helping me, she said, was her penance. A way to set things right before she met her maker. I had no idea that she …’ Wren’s voice trailed off into sobs.

  Penance. Tish turned the word over and over in her mind. After all these years, Zadie still felt guilty about what happened to William. ‘Did you make the promise? To move away?’

  Wren nodded. ‘I called my daughter-in-law yesterday. A real estate agent is coming to appraise the house later this afternoon. Unless you’re …’

  ‘I don’t know what to do, Ms Harper. I don’t want to send you to prison. You’re obviously in an extremely fragile emotional state, which would reduce your sentence, but I don’t want you to be separated from the only family you have left. Yet an innocent woman’s reputation has been tarnished forever. And although Zadie might have been fine with people thinking she was a murderer, I’m not sure I can live with that on my conscience.’

  Wren Harper sat down at the table, desolated. ‘I wish it were different, too, Ms Tarragon. I wish I hadn’t done what I did. I wish I was brave enough to step forward, but I’m not. I keep thinking of my grandchildren and what they’ve been through, losing their grandfather and then their father and now …’

  Tish drew a deep breath. She wished she was brave enough to follow through with Zadie’s wish without trepidation. ‘I need some time to think, Ms Harper. If you don’t mind, I’m going to pay Orson Baggett a visit. May I leave my car here?’

  Wren nodded. ‘I’m not going anywhere. And I mean that. Whatever you decide, Ms Tarragon. I need to pay my penance at some point too, be it in this life or the next.’

  Tish acknowledged Wren’s statement with a nod of the head before exiting the kitchen and walking to her car. From the trunk, she pulled out the pots of lilies and carried them to Orson Baggett’s house. Approaching the backyard gate, she could see Orson in his garden, harvesting vegetables. His clothes were uncharacteristically sloppy and wrinkled, and his face looked haggard and worn.

  ‘Mr Baggett?’ she called.

  He looked up with a wan smile. ‘Ms Tarragon, I thought you’d seen the back of this place.’

  ‘Soon. Just tying up some loose ends. May I come in?’

  Orson rushed to open the gate and then took the lilies from her hands.

  ‘I wanted to check in on you.’

  ‘To see if a man can still live after having his heart plucked out of his chest?’ he half joked. ‘I’m all right. Been better, but trying to remember the things Zadie said to me during the time we were together.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It can’t be easy for you.’

  Orson shrugged. ‘What did you bring? Lilies? You’re not going into the traveling nursery business now, are you?’

  ‘No, I thought you might like these for your garden. They’d look good amid the Sweet William.’

  He smiled. ‘Indeed they would. Mona Lisa lilies. A fitting tribute. Smiling on the outside, never revealing what was going on inside.’

  ‘She was a good woman,’ Tish assured.

  ‘Yes, she was. I’m glad you saw it, too. Sure, there are hundreds of other people in these parts who’ll say otherwise now, but the person who murdered Shackleford wasn’t my Zadie. She wasn’t the woman who lived here at Coleton Creek. I just wish I could have given her more comfort.’

  ‘Oh, but you did,’ Tish gushed. ‘She told me that you mad
e her very happy, that just when she’d given up, you made life worth living again. She thought the world of you, Mr Baggett. Never doubt that.’

  Orson raised a finger to the corner of one eye to dab a tear. ‘Allergies.’

  ‘Yes, it’s that time of year,’ she allowed. ‘Ragweed.’

  ‘Thank you for coming here, Ms Tarragon. I needed to hear from someone who can look past the front page and see Zadie for how she really was.’

  ‘I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who can attest to her character. Why, her death has had a positive impact on some. Jim Ainsley and Pepper Aviero are back together—’

  Orson chuckled. ‘I’m happy for him, but I’m looking forward to teasing him just as bad as he teased me over Zadie.’

  ‘And it seems the Abercrombies are closer—’

  ‘Yes, they’ve invited me for dinner tonight. Tucker’s grilling so Vi has the night off. Never thought I’d hear that!’

  ‘And I – well, I just feel better for having known Zadie.’

  ‘That was Zadie’s way. She couldn’t help but make things better. “Look to the living” was her motto. Leave the past behind and enjoy life and take care of those around you.’

  Look to the living … enjoy life. The words struck Tish like a lightning bolt. Joie de Vivre. Joy of living. The name of the lipstick Zadie had left for Tish. ‘Wise words.’ She looked over the fence to see Wren Harper back in her garden, watching the pond meditatively. ‘I hope this isn’t the last I’ll see of you Mr Baggett. You’re welcome at my café anytime. How does breakfast on the house sound once you’re feeling better?’

  He smiled. ‘Depends. Do you do biscuits and gravy?’

  ‘How could a café in Virginia not?’

  ‘You might just see me there. Oh, now that the competition is over, I’m doing some harvesting. You need any lettuce or tomatoes or eggplant?’

  ‘I’ll take whatever you have, unless you have a need for it.’