Potager Plot

by Vikki Walton

  As she walked back into her own yard, she surveyed the progress of her food forest. Since it was next door to the bed-and-breakfast, it made it easy for guests who came to learn about permaculture and backyard farming. Because of Colorado’s crazy weather patterns, the trees, bushes, and flora were all in differing stages of coming to life. Like others, Anne had determined growing veggies and other annuals would require a greenhouse, so she’d added one in a sunny spot of the yard. Once Spencer installed the drip irrigation, word had spread, and he now had a good business, which kept him busy.

  She bent down and pulled a weed before walking over to her keyhole raised bed, which served as her potager garden. Directly out from the kitchen, it supplied easy access to fresh herbs, flowers, and salad items. She smiled with contentment. Anne had always found that getting outdoors and into nature calmed her. A thought sprang to mind. Carson would be calling tonight, and he’d be unhappy to find out she’d found yet another dead body. But it wasn’t her fault. Plus, it looked to be an accident. Yet things niggled in her mind.

  If Billie recovered, would this have been an incentive for a cheating husband to make his move? Or what about his lover? Could they have taken matters into their own hands to stop any further recovery? Anne dusted off the steps to the back porch and sat down, allowing the sun to penetrate her skin. She recalled the scene in her mind, trying to focus solely on the actual fall of the bookcase. If someone had pushed it over onto Billie, there would be fingerprints. Unless they’d worn gloves. That brought another thought to her mind.

  At the last meeting, Kim had passed around floral gloves to everyone with CSGC (Carolan Springs Garden Club) stamped on them. Members could purchase the gloves, and it served as another way to make money for the group. Anne had been impressed by Kim’s ideas to make money. It made sense that she’d been voted in as the treasurer of the group. She was definitely financially savvy. Anne wondered what she did for work. She’d have to ask Kandi if she knew.

  That brought her back to the idea that Kim may have photographed the pair of lovers and possibly blackmailed them. She didn’t look like a blackmailer, but who did? Or she could have been the one having the affair with Ben. Though she had become distraught to find out Billie was dead. Did she think Ben had done it?

  Then there was Aly who was all over the place with her emotions and ideas. Surely she and Ben weren’t having an affair. She’d need to ask Kandi more about anything that Aly may have revealed in earlier conversations.

  Spencer came out on the porch. “We’re off to go check out the beds at Mercy Caldwell’s.”

  Anne bolted up from her spot. “No. That’s going to have to wait. I might as well tell you—I found Billie Whitman dead.”

  “Whoa. That’s, like, not cool.” Jim groaned.

  Anne shook her head at his statement though it was hard to deny being dead wasn’t cool. “Um, sure. Anyway, Mercy is—was—best friends with Billie. She’ll be in no state to speak to anyone.”

  “Ah, okay. Well, let me rethink our plan. Come on. What time should I be home?”

  “Let’s plan on eating around six.”

  “Got it. Tacos?”

  “Sure.” She started a mental grocery list in her mind. Then it hit her she’d left her vehicle at Billie’s.

  Spencer motioned to his friend, and they headed up the drive toward the trailhead that led them toward town.

  She phoned Hope, who couldn’t talk as she was with a customer but would call her back later. Anne thought it would be good to stop by Mercy’s house tomorrow. She considered putting together a basket with some goodies. Ben would be getting lots of attention and food, but it might be good to stop by and offer condolences to him as well. Innocent until proven guilty after all, even if only for an affair. That led her to thinking about when she could connect with Sam. Once the coroner’s office had completed their inquiry, that would help settle the accident question once and for all.

  She returned inside, rinsed out her cup, and set it next to the sink. She’d ask Hope about the idea of putting together baskets for Ben and for Mercy.

  Her phone rang, and she connected to the call.

  Kandi’s words rushed through the line. “You’re never going to believe it.”

  “Slow down. Believe what?”

  “Brian’s at the ER. From what I gather, he, Ben, and James were working on a project together, and Brian said something that set Ben off.”

  “Like what?” Anne hoisted the phone between her ear and her shoulder.

  “Not sure. They started shoving each other and anyway, Brian had to go to the ER.”

  “Hmm, I wonder if he accused Ben of being in an affair with his wife? When did this happen?”

  “Earlier. Not sure what time. I’m only hearing bits and pieces from my friend at the hospital.”

  “Where’s James? He could tell us what happened.”

  “Don’t know. Guess he’s still, like, with Brian at the hospital. It wasn’t long after that that Ben left. I guess he’d found out about Billie. Anyway, I gotta go. Thought you’d like to know.” Kandi rang off.

  So Brian and Ben had fought. Had it been about Jennifer? She needed to add another name to her list and find out what James overheard. Though being Ben’s friend, he may not be so willing to share anything bad about his friend. That also meant that Ben hadn’t gone to work.

  Just as she finished her grocery list, her phone pinged again. This time it was Hope. “Hi, what’s up?”

  “Have you heard about Billie?”

  “Yes, it’s been all the talk with everyone coming into the store. Very sad.” Hope cleared her throat. “Life isn’t fair sometimes.”

  “Listen, I was thinking of going over to Mercy’s tomorrow. Maybe taking a basket or something to her. I doubt anyone is thinking about her, but she lost Billie too. Do you want to go with me? You’re so much more empathetic than I am.”

  “Can’t. Back-to-back appointments tomorrow. But I could go tonight. How about this? Let’s stop by first. She may not be up for visitors. Then we can determine what she might need or want.”

  “Okay. Sounds good. Want to have tacos with me and Spencer? I said six, but I can make it earlier, and we could stop by her place around seven. What do you think?”

  “Yum. Who doesn’t love tacos?”

  “I’ll start cooking around five so come anytime.” She jotted down the avocadoes she’d forgotten to add to her grocery list.

  “Great. See you then.”

  Anne sat at her computer and placed an online grocery order to be delivered. Time flew by, and she was frying up corn tortillas for the tacos when Hope arrived to help with the other prep. She’d also invited Kandi but had been informed that she and Stewart already had plans for dinner with another couple.

  After Spencer wolfed down six tacos, he offered to clean the kitchen so the pair could head over to Mercy’s house before it got too late. Anne also needed to pick up her car.

  “Do you think we should call first?” Hope questioned as she took her seat behind the wheel of her car.

  “No. People say they don’t need anything out of politeness when they really need the company. If she doesn’t want anyone there, we can just express our condolences.”

  They drove through the city and found themselves in front of Mercy’s house. In the driveway sat her Sprinter van, which she used to carry packages around the city as a freelancer for the post office and online companies. Since Carolan Springs was a smaller community, they hired out help on certain routes versus hiring employees. They walked up to the front porch, which had a light on outside. Anne steeled herself for the meeting as Hope rang the doorbell. They waited and saw the curtain to the right twitch. Mercy must have peeked out to see who it was.

  The woman opening the door to them was a shadowy comparison of the boisterous woman Anne had seen at the meeting. Her face was red and blotchy from crying, and her bent frame revealed the burden of the grief she carried. “Hello. I’m not—”

  “Mer
cy, we’re sorry to intrude. We know how close you and Billie were, and we wanted to express our condolences. That’s all.” Hope rushed forward as the woman broke down into gasping sobs, clutching herself as she rocked. She laid her hand softly on Mercy’s back and allowed the woman to feel her grief.

  “Please, may we come in?” Anne spoke in a hushed tone.

  Mercy held open the screen door, and they followed her into the living room. Next to a chair, a wad of used tissues littered the table and floor. Hope glanced over at Anne.

  “Let me make you some tea.”

  “No. That’s okay.”

  Hope took Mercy’s arm and led her to the chair as Anne made her way to the kitchen. When she entered the room, she gasped. Dishware lay broken all over the floor. She found a broom and set to sweeping up the broken plates and cups. After she’d cleared the first bit, she set to putting on water for tea and finding three cups. As the water heated, she swept again, getting the rest of the debris off the floor. Once she’d poured the tea, she took a cup along with a trash bag to the living room. After handing the cup to Mercy, Anne picked up the used tissues and deposited them in the bag. She returned to the kitchen, washed her hands, and retrieved the other teacups before returning to the living room, where she handed one to Hope.

  Mercy pulled a tissue from the box and wiped her eyes. “I’m so ashamed. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “Don’t be. You have nothing to be ashamed about. I’ve wanted to break some dishes in my day too,” Anne replied.

  “I was so angry. I…I just lost it for a second. I can’t admit—” She broke down again with deep, heart-wrenching sobs, and the pair sat in silence until she regained her composure. “I can’t believe she’s really gone. It’s like a bad dream. If I don’t acknowledge it, maybe it won’t be true.”

  She blew her nose and pulled another tissue from the box. “I didn’t realize how strong my feelings were going to be over this. It’s like losing my sister. I knew she was probably going to die. So she’s no longer in pain.” She pulled more tissues from the box. “In my heart, I know she’s no longer in pain. That’s the most important thing. She’ll never experience hurt or pain again.” She wiped her eyes and took a shuddering breath. “Yes, that’s the way to think about it.”

  “We’re very sorry, Mercy. What can we do to help you? Of course, we’ll also call on Ben, but we wanted to check on you first.”

  She spat out, “Him. I hate him. He’s never there for Billie. And after what he’s done—”

  Anne glanced toward Hope, who shook her head not to say anything. People who were grieving often spewed out angry words concerning others.

  “Mercy, can we make you something to eat? Call someone?”

  Mercy shook her head. “No. I’m not hungry. I may just go to bed.”

  Hope drew out a small bag from her purse. “This is bath salts. Take a warm bath before you go to bed. It will help relax you, and I’ve also included a stress tincture. If you find you’re having a hard time falling asleep, just add some to a glass of water.” She stood. “Now, let me take that cup, and we’ll get out of your hair.”

  Hope moved into the kitchen, while Mercy stared vacantly into space. Anne sprang from her seat once she’d returned as Mercy came back from her thoughts and thanked them for coming.

  “I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I don’t deserve it.”

  Hope patted the woman’s arm. “Of course you do.”

  “No. No, I don’t.” She sniffed and sat back in her chair. Her face grew blotchy, and tears spilled down her cheek. “I should have been a better friend.” She hugged her arms to her chest, once again lost in painful reflection.

  “We’ll let ourselves out. Please call if you need anything. Sincerely.”

  Hope held the door for Anne to walk through. As the pair made their way down the steps, Anne wondered about Mercy’s words. Friendship was one of the most important things in a woman’s life and often easy to let your friends down without realizing it. Mercy’s words were a good reminder to be present and to show her love for her friends.

  As if they had both been pondering the same thing, in unison, they said, “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

  Laughing, Anne replied, “If you wouldn’t have helped me get my moods settled from all the hormonal issues I was dealing with back then, I’d probably be that cranky old lady everyone avoids.”

  “You weren’t that bad. Just needed a bit of tender loving care.”

  “Which brings to mind another person who could use some TLC.”

  “You’re speaking of Aly?” Hope slid in behind the drivers’ wheel.

  “Yep. Do you believe her issues might be hormonal?”

  “Not sure. Something deeper is going on there. I also realize her filter has been shut off. It may be from the trauma with her mother. But who’s saying?”

  With them talking, both totally forgot Anne’s car until they were almost back to the house. “Oh, crud. Totally spaced the truck again.”

  “I can take you back. It’s not a problem.” Hope replied as she slowed to take a turn.

  “No, I know you’ve had a super busy day and you’re tired.” She tucked a tendril of auburn hair behind her ear. “Plus, I need to get in better shape, and the walk today was nice. Need to take advantage of the weather before it gets super-hot.”

  “If you’re sure. Again, it’s not a problem.”

  Anne yawned. “I’m sure. Plus, I’m tired too. It will also give me a reason to be there and chat with Ben.”

  After waving goodbye to Hope, Anne locked up and climbed the stairs to her room. A crack of light shone under Spencer’s door, and she continued to his room and knocked. “I’m home. Can I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  She entered to find him cross-legged on his bed doing math homework. “Ugh, I hated math in school.”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “Well, better you than me.”

  She moved to shut the door when he yelled.

  “You missed Carson’s call.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Anne decided to confront the conversation she would need to have with Carson. First, she took a quick shower and slipped into pj’s before making the call.

  “Hi there. How’s everything?”

  She laid back on the pillows she’d arranged around her back. “Sorry, I missed your call. I’d turned my phone’s ringer down and I wasn’t at home.” She took a deep breath. “Have you heard the news yet?”

  Carson sighed. “I can tell by your voice that I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  “Probably not. But it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t go looking for trouble, it just found me.”

  “Spill.”

  Anne launched into her story about finding Billie. “I think it’s most likely an accident but—”

  “That questioning always seems to get you into trouble. But I rely on your gut, so why don’t you think it’s an accident?”

  “You trust my gut? I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It is. My concern is you getting hurt—or worse. I don’t like you wading into things that are dangerous. So I have to say my piece even if you ignore it.”

  “I don’t ignore it. I just—um—sometimes choose to ignore it.”

  “What am I going to do with you? Now back to your gut. Why don’t you think it was an accident?”

  “I don’t know. Something seemed off. I can’t put my finger on it but it’s this strange sense of it. Plus, it’s been rumored that Ben is having an affair.”

  “Ah, now you know that is conjecture. Not facts. Stick with the facts. Since I know you’re going to go over this issue, anyway, tell me the facts.”

  She adjusted in her place. “Okay, let me see. Fact one: Unless someone was hiding in the house, she was alone. Fact two: She was dusting as there was a duster and dust cloth close to her. Fact three: She had pulled the bookcase on top of her.”

  “Conjecture.”

  “O
kay, um. Fact three: The bookcase had fallen on top of her.”

  Carson responded, “Correct. Now we don’t know if that bookcase fell of its own accord, someone pushed it, trapping her under it—she was under it—yes?”

  “Yes. Though not all the way. She must have been trying to keep it upright but moving back at the same time.”

  “So she could have accidentally, and unfortunately, pulled it down, trapping herself under it which led to her death.”

  “I think that’s where I’m having some problems with it. It wasn’t a super heavy bookcase. It could have hurt her, but in her weakened state, maybe she couldn’t move it off of her. Which could have affected her breathing, but I don’t think that’s the cause.”

  “Okay. Let’s move away from ideas and back to the facts. Concentrate. What else do you remember?”

  Anne grimaced, remembering the scene. “Fact, um, four. She had a nasty cut to her head. A broken pot lay nearby, and I recall it being on top of the bookcase when I went there to give a talk to the garden group. It must have fallen and hit her on the head.”

  “Was the soil wet?”

  “What?”

  “Was the dirt from the plant wet? Had she watered it?”

  Anne thought back to the scene. A table sat between two chairs, and on the table, she recalled seeing the plastic watering can, the duster, and—what was it? Something else. She inhaled sharply. “There was a stepstool. It was off to the side. At the time, it must have been noted in my brain but didn’t register until now. Let me think. Wait, why’d you want to know if the soil was wet?”