Sunflowers and Sabotage

by London Lovett

  "I understand," Briggs said in his most sympathetic tone. "Just one other question. We've retrieved a piece of evidence from the crime scene that we have reason to believe belongs to you."

  Avery's cheeks drained of color. She looked as if someone had just socked her in the stomach. "I don't understand. What piece of evidence?"

  "A thick plastic bag with paw prints was found at the crime scene." I knew Briggs didn't want to give away any clues about how Ellen was murdered. Although, I found it hard to believe that Melody hadn't already conveyed all the grim details to everyone.

  "So it's true? Someone tied a plastic bag around Ellen's head?" she asked, confirming my prediction about Melody. "I don't know anything about—" She stopped and more color drained from her face.

  "Miss Hinkle?" Briggs asked. "Are you all right?"

  "My bag," she said weakly, then collected herself. "It's been packed in the truck now but I arrived with a large banner mentioning that Belvedere was the 2018 Chesterton Champion. I had it stored in a thick plastic bag with paw prints on the plastic."

  "Could you show me that banner and bag right now?" Briggs asked.

  "No," she said. "I mean, I would only someone stole the bag. I ended up using a paper bag for the banner. I searched all over for the plastic one but I couldn't find it." She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. "The person who killed Ellen must have stolen it from my belongings. I can't believe it. Who would do such a thing?"

  Briggs wrote down Avery's account of the stolen bag. "I'll let you go then, Miss Hinkle. Officer Burke has your contact information in case we need to talk to you again."

  She nodded but didn't say anything else. She looked genuinely shaken at the prospect that someone stole her plastic bag to kill Ellen Joyner.

  Briggs and I walked away.

  "She has the most motive and there's a key piece of evidence connecting her to the murder, but Avery Hinkle doesn't act as if she just killed someone," I said.

  "She was pretty defensive at first," Briggs reminded me. "But her shock does seem pretty authentic. I need to talk to the coroner and the evidence team. I take it you need a ride back to Port Danby?"

  "That would be nice. Ryder is in a bit of a state because he has to go to dinner with Lola and her parents."

  Briggs shook his head. "Ah, yes, the meet the parents dinner. Every boyfriend's worst nightmare."

  "What do you mean? My parents loved you. My mom asks me if I'm still dating James every time we talk. In fact, she asks that before she even asks how I'm doing. I could be sinking in a hole of quicksand and just calling to tell her goodbye, but she'd miss my fond farewell because she'd be jumping right into her question about our relationship."

  "Where are you hanging out lately that you might get mired in quicksand?" he asked with a laugh. "I'll find an officer to give you a ride back. I've got to stick around for a bit longer to see if anything important comes up."

  "All right, just don't find anything too important without me."

  Chapter 14

  I felt sorry for Ryder as he left the shop. He looked wound as tight as a rubber band. He had decided a run on the beach might be the best way to unwind and I agreed. I checked my phone several times as I plucked away at my keyboard typing out purchase orders. There was no word from Briggs, but I was sure he'd fill me in once he learned anything significant.

  The bell on the door rang and Elsie's 'yoo hoo' followed. I headed out to the storefront. She was holding a pink box. "Just wanted to bring you a little thank you gift for helping me out at the park."

  "You didn't need to do that." I took the box from her hands and set it on the counter to open it. It was filled with multicolored French macarons. "They smell delicious and almond-y." I lifted out a pale green one that had the fragrant aroma of pistachio. "Hmm," I moaned as I took a bite of the delicate meringue. "So worth standing in a hot park all day."

  Elsie pulled a peanut butter dog treat out of her pocket. The move sent Kingston into one of his ice skating dances across his perch. Elsie walked over and dropped it in his bowl, then hopped up on a stool at the island. "I sent Britney home to get some sleep. She got everything done today on the work list, but by the time I got back to the bakery, she was wandering around like a zombie, unable to focus. That Dash," she muttered. She always had to add in a negative comment about my neighbor. I felt sort of bad for Dash. At the same time, I wanted to give him a good shake. He knew Elsie was watching his every move, yet he didn't seem to change his habits.

  "Did they find out who killed the dog owner?" Elsie picked at some of the leaf debris on the counter. "I'm sure it was that woman who lost. While I was standing outside the trailer waiting for Inspector Nosey to finish her work"—she looked pointedly at me—"I heard everyone gossiping and theorizing that last year's champion was raging mad because someone fed her dog peanut butter and that caused her to lose the show."

  "She does seem like the obvious choice for suspect. The competitors, at least the top people, do seem to take the show very seriously. However, it's a big stretch to think the sore loser would resort to murder, even if there was sabotage involved. But then, people have killed for less."

  Elsie tapped the counter and was off to the next topic. Especially since murder mysteries held little interest for the woman. "I've been making a list of possible desserts I can make that are vegan. I know dates can make a delicious caramel, and I was researching it a bit and found that you can make a good egg substitute with ground flax seed. There are various kinds of nut butters that act as a substitute for butter."

  "You're really getting into this vegan thing." It was getting late so I decided to start cleaning up for the day. I grabbed a sponge from the potting area and returned to the work island to wipe it down. "Won't it be a big extra cost to add all these new ingredients to your stockroom? Dates aren't cheap, and I tried almond butter once." I temporarily stopped my task. "Delicious, by the way. Very rich and decadent. But I think the small jar cost me eight dollars."

  "Yes, it's true. I'll probably have to charge more for the vegan treats, but I do occasionally get a customer asking for something vegan. Then there's my brother who is walking around with butter and confectioner's sugar pumping though his veins."

  "Poor Les, did he eat his vegetables today?" I asked as I swept leaf and stem remnants into my hand.

  "I doubt it. I fixed him a perfectly delicious lunch with a whole wheat hummus and vegetable wrap, but since I wasn't around, he probably tossed it and walked down to Franki's Diner for a greasy bacon burger and chili fries. I think he's craving bad food even more now because he knows I want him to change his diet."

  I paused and tilted my head at her. "Then try my plan and give him some leeway. You just said it yourself, he's being more defiant because you are forcing him to change."

  She waved her hand. "I'm not forcing him. He's a grown man, after all."

  My head tilt remained, but I added an eyebrow lift.

  "All right, so I'm forcing him a bit. It's for his own good. And yes, maybe your idea is the way to go. I'll let him have his fun on the weekend. After all, how much damage can he do in two days? Never mind. Don't answer that. I've seen him plow through a plate of nachos in minutes." She slapped the counter again. "Well, I've got to finish cleaning up. Enjoy the macarons."

  "Oh, I plan to. Thanks again."

  Chapter 15

  I was shutting down my office computer when the bell rang. "Darn it. Forgot to put up the closed sign and lock the door." I headed out to greet the customer, hoping they just needed a quick bouquet or card. Much to my pleasure, I discovered my wonderful boyfriend standing in the shop. He was snooping in the pink bakery box and dropped the lid like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  A laugh spurted from my mouth. "Guilt is not a good look for you, my friend. Which is odd because just about every other emotion looks marvelous on that handsome face." I pressed up against him and gave him a kiss. "You may have a macaron. Just not the lemon or the pistachio. Those ar
e my favorite, and I did stand in the hot sun all day to earn them."

  Briggs opened the lid on the box again. "I'm not fluent in macaron. Which ones are pistachio and lemon?"

  "Yellow and green," I said as I walked to the door to flip over the closed sign.

  "That makes sense." He reached in and pulled out a caramel confection. "Thought I might miss you. You're closing up late."

  "Not really. I've been in the office doing paperwork. I just forgot to flip the sign and lock the door."

  He frantically lifted his palm under his chin to catch the flaky bits of almond meringue. "Good but messy." He brushed some of the white residue off his shirt. "Guess it wouldn't be too professional or manly to show up to a stake out with crumbs of meringue on my shirt."

  My shoulders sank. "You have to work tonight? But it's Saturday."

  "Well aware of that, but, unfortunately, criminals don't calendar in weekends. In fact, there's been an increase in activity, so we're expecting a delivery any time. I've got to relieve one of the team members."

  "So on top of having nothing to do, I have to spend those long, lonely hours worrying about you," I said.

  "There's an easy solution to that. Don't worry." He walked across the room to give Kingston a head rub. "You're reading too much into this job."

  I harrumphed. "That's because I can see the stress of it in your face. That's rare with my cool, calm and collected man."

  "I'm still that man, just tired from waiting these guys out." He walked toward me and brushed his finger along my cheek, a gesture that always put me off my guard and made me feel a little tipsy. "I'm sure it's going to end soon, but I'll probably be on duty all weekend. What will you do tonight without me?" He lowered his hand.

  I shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Guess I'll have to go through my contact list and see if any of my other boyfriends are available."

  His crooked smile appeared. "Funny girl."

  I wrapped my arm around his. "I guess I'll skip the contact list and sit at home with my bird, my cat and my macarons. I've been meaning to get back to the Hawksworth murders anyhow. I need to look at my notes, see what I have and figure out where to go next." I released his arm to finish closing up for the night. "Speaking of murders—" I grabbed the broom for one more quick sweep. "Did they find anything else at the scene?"

  "Like you theorized, the victim had been hit on the head and knocked unconscious. It was a good blow according to Nate, but he doesn't think it was enough to kill her. That's when the killer turned to plan B and suffocated her while she was out cold. Officer Burke did a search of nearby trashcans and recovered what we think was used to hit her on the head. It was a metal stake like the kind that was jammed in the grass to hold onto dog leashes. There was blood on the stake, so it's heading to the lab for testing. We aren't holding out too much hope for clear fingerprints because the stake was rusty and was probably held in someone's palm, which would cause prints to smear. But you never know."

  "And suspects?" I asked.

  Briggs shrugged. "I'm not sure. The Chesterton Police are going to take the lead on this one, at least until I finish with this drug bust. So far, the Hinkle woman is at the top of the list because she was seen in the area and she had apparent motive."

  "And her plastic bag was used for the suffocation," I added. I rested the broom against the wall and leaned over to pick up the dustpan. "Although," I said as I popped back, "that Avery Hinkle doesn't strike me as dumb. Would she be careless enough to leave the bag on the victim? Of course, I don't know her that well. Maybe she's sillier than her exterior lets on."

  Briggs got a text. He checked his phone. "I've got to go." He walked over, took hold of both my arms and brought my face up to his for a nice kiss. "I'll see you later and keep away from those other boyfriends. You're mine, all mine."

  I smiled. "I kind of like the sound of that. Be careful and keep an eye out for bad guys, please."

  "I intend to."

  I blew him a kiss as he looked back from the door.

  Chapter 16

  Some of Elsie's new health plan had started to seep its way into my eating habits. It was a slow seep, of course, as evidenced by the root beer float, caramel cookies and the five, yes five macarons I'd had since Elsie walked into the store with the pink box. If I thought about it, I could technically blame my last three sugary indiscretions on Elsie. Still, the mad bakery woman was the inspiration behind my nutritious dinner salad, complete with artichoke hearts, broccoli and garbanzo beans. I gobbled down every last bite, then set to work reading through my notes on the Hawksworth murders.

  It all started on a terrible night, in the massive Victorian home at the top of Maple Hill. The site was now a historical landmark and one of Port Danby's main attractions, other than a lovely beach and Pickford Lighthouse. On that fateful night of October 7, 1906, the entire Hawksworth family, a prominent and rich family in the community, were murdered as they relaxed for the evening. Bertram and Jill Hawksworth were murdered alongside their three children, Phoebe, William and Cynthia all between the ages of ten and fifteen. The police at that time closed the case quickly as a murder-suicide. The murder weapon was found in Bertram's right hand. Even though the first investigator at the scene, Officer Gilly, had seemed to question the theory that Bertram shot his family before turning the gun on himself, Gilly was transferred mid-case to another precinct and the tragic event was closed. The town went on believing the worst of Mr. Hawksworth, that he had, in cold blood, shot dead his entire family, children included, before taking his own life.

  My own investigation into the hundred-year-old case had led me up the hill to the Hawksworth Manor. The vast site included a gardener's shed where the town had displayed a few rather uninspiring artifacts left behind by the family. Gruesome pictures of the crime had given me my first real break in the case. One photo in particular, one that showed Bertram on the floor, in his own blood, gripping the gun in his right hand, helped to nail down my own theory that Bertram was not the culprit but rather the victim. While perusing original Port Danby newspapers, I'd found a picture of Bertram Hawksworth signing the documents for his future shipyard. It was to be built right alongside Port Danby's shoreline. He was holding the pen in his left hand. As little as I knew about shooting a gun, I was certain if you were left-handed, you would shoot with the left. It seemed easy to deduce that someone had place the gun in Bertram's right hand after killing him. Only that someone hadn't considered the possibility that Bertram was left-handed. It was exactly that, which had given Officer Gilly pause on the case. But he had been whisked away so quickly, he was never able to follow up on it. Oddly enough, there seemed to be no reason for his sudden transfer. The left handedness issue had spurred on my curiosity. Since then, whenever I had a few spare moments, I did some investigating.

  I browsed through my haphazard notes, reminding myself what each cryptic statement meant and what it had to do with the case. Harvard Price abruptly ends the Hawksworth shipyard project. I wasn't sure how it was connected to the murder, but it was, no doubt, a blow to Bertram Hawksworth. He had plans to go on with the lucrative, industrious project until Mayor Harvard Price put an end to it. The Price family had been in the Port Danby mayor's seat for over a hundred years, including today. Harvard's great grandson, Harlan Price, was the current mayor of the town, and he had, for some reason, taken an instant disliking to me. He wasn't too fond of my pet crow either but that was fine. The rest of the town adored Kingston. Front page picture of Harvard Price. It was another cliff note I'd made about my research through old newspapers. It was taken the day that Mayor Price halted the shipyard project. Mayor Price's daughter, from his first marriage, Jane Price, was standing in the picture holding the Port Danby account ledger. Further research showed that Jane had been town treasurer for a few years before she was sent away. I couldn't find the reason for her leaving town. When I approached the current Mayor Price about his Great Aunt Jane he became irate and stormed away angry.

  Who is in the unmark
ed grave? A nagging mystery about the Hawksworth family that so far had not been solved, revolved around an unmarked grave in the Hawksworth family plot in the town's church cemetery. An old picture showed that the unmarked grave, an unusually small plot, had been filled before the family was murdered. I'd toyed with the notion that it had been the grave of a beloved hunting dog or some such animal, but it seemed strange to have it buried in a church graveyard. Not to mention, if it had been so beloved as to earn a spot in the family plot, then wouldn't it also have been important enough to earn a gravestone, or, at the very least, a plaque. I hadn't been able to find any information on who might be buried in the grave.

  Hawksworth account ledger signed off by Jane Price. Lola's knowledge of antiques helped lead me to the hidden key on an unlocked trunk that was part of the display in the makeshift museum set up in the Hawksworth garden shed. The trunk contained men's clothing items. I could only assume they had belonged to Bertram. I also discovered an account ledger that had been signed off by Jane Price, which meant she was not only town treasurer but an accountant for the Hawksworth family.

  Love letters with lavender. The same trunk contained a few informal love letters written to Teddy from Button. A sprig of lavender, ancient and dried but still intact, was tucked into the letters. I could only assume they were from Jill to Bertram, either that or Bertram had a mistress. The latter sounded much more intriguing and plausible. I'd discovered with more research that Jill and Bertram had been part of an arranged marriage. Their wedding day photo in the paper did not exactly show an overjoyed couple.

  The mayor has a different ledger. My research at the wonderful Chesterton Library and their microfiche machines, helpful technological relics that came in handy for glancing through old newspapers without worrying about ripping a brittle page or making sure it folded neatly back up. The microfiche helped me scan a number of front page headlines, but one that stood out to me the most wasn't about the headline but more about the grainy photo. It was only a small, inconsistent detail, but my intuition kept poking at me, letting me know that it was significant. I just wasn't sure how. I had first seen the Port Danby town ledger in the picture with Jane Price. A paper dated a year later showed Mayor Price sitting at his desk behind an ornate silver inkwell and the town ledger. It was embossed leather with the town's name, just like the one Jane Price had been holding in the earlier picture. Only in the later picture, the ledger had silver corners. It was a different ledger altogether. There was always the possibility that a new, fancy ledger had been purchased, but my detective's instinct told me something was off.