Marigolds for Malice

by Bailey Cattrell

  It was open. And completely empty except for a color picture of the dirt-streaked gold nugget. Next to the photo was an information card about the piece of gold, including the weight—nearly twelve pounds!—the current estimated value of around $250,000, and a note that it had been taken to the bank for safekeeping. Everything else was gone, including the reason I’d trekked to the museum in the first place. Only a single dried marigold petal remained, an orange speck against the black velvet lining.

  Grief for Eureka arrowed through my solar plexus, followed closely by sadness and anger. I had to admit some of those feelings were also because the Xavier manuscript was gone.

  It made no sense. I knew that. I couldn’t explain why I’d come to Heritage House, either. Not that it mattered. Max Lang wouldn’t give a shake anyway. He’d remember that I’d been interested in the manuscript, and that Eureka had been angry at me for touching it. Now she was dead, and I’d found her body in the middle of the night in a museum neither one of us was supposed to be in. I could almost see the smirk on his face when he realized he might have another chance to put me in prison.

  My hand was shaking as I reached for the phone again. Dash gave me a quizzical look as I slowly slipped it into my jacket pocket.

  No one knew I was here. I could just leave. Shut the door behind me and go back home through the empty streets of slumbering Poppyville. Latch the gate, lock my door, crawl into bed, and wait for someone else to find Eureka’s body.

  I took a step toward the door. Looked over my shoulder at the dead woman I had only begun to become friends with.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave her lying there all alone. Besides, now that I really thought about it, Maria would be the one most likely to find her. I knew how awful it was to find a dead body. This was my second one, and no way could I do that to the cheerful, gentle librarian. Other than her work for the museum, Eureka had largely kept to herself, but Maria probably knew her better than anyone else in town.

  The phone felt heavy as I pulled it back out and regarded the 911 on the screen. I’d been ready to call for help, but this wasn’t what I’d had in mind.

  The screen went blank. I’d been staring at it too long.

  An impulse struck. From my contacts, I selected Lupe Garcia’s number. She might be the other detective on the force, but at least she knew I wasn’t a killer.

  CHAPTER 5

  YOU found who? Where? Jeez, Ellie, give me a minute.” I heard a rustling, and seconds later, Lupe was back on the line. “Now let me get this straight. It’s after freakin’ midnight, and you’re in Heritage House, and Eureka Sanford is dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. The first time had been when she’d picked up the phone with a groggy hello. “But yeah, that’s it. Looks like someone hit her over the head with a shovel.”

  “What?” she said, her incredulous voice fading on the word. Then the swishing sound of fabric got louder as she put me on speaker. She was getting dressed while we spoke. Her next words were strong. “Could her attacker still be there? Did you look in the restroom?”

  Fear shot through me, and for a moment I didn’t breathe.

  I looked over at the closed door at the back of the cabin. Then I saw Dash gazing placidly up at me from where he seemed to be guarding the body. I let out my breath, realizing on a subconscious level I’d already known we were alone by my dog’s behavior. “Dash is with me, and he would have let me know if there was anyone else here.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” she grumbled over the sound of a zipper.

  “But I’m going to check now,” I said. “While you’re on the phone with me.”

  “You should just go outside—”

  “Hang on.” I walked over to the closed restroom door, opened it, and flipped on the light. “No one here.”

  “God, Ellie.” She sighed. “All right. You get a hold of Nan?” She was referring to the police dispatcher. Emergency calls were forwarded to her home at night during the middle of the week in the off-season.

  “Um . . .”

  A pause, then, “‘Um’? What does that mean? Ellie, you called nine-one-one, didn’t you?”

  “Um . . . no. I called you.”

  “What?” she spluttered, then fell silent. Finally she said, “Is there something you’re leaving out?”

  “Of course not!” Not like she meant, at least.

  “Then what on earth . . .” She sighed again. “You’re afraid of Max. Okay, I get it. But listen, you have to call nine-one-one. If I call it in, then they’ll know you called me first, and that’ll raise suspicion you don’t need.”

  “Oh. Right. God, I’ve made it worse,” I said in a shaky voice.

  “Just call them. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay.” I hung up and, gritting my teeth, made the call I should have made in the first place.

  The whole time, I was staring at the yellow legal pad on the desk. It wasn’t until I’d hung up that I realized what I had been looking at.

  Eureka had been taking notes. Not many, just a few words.

  Try GPS overlay with claims map?

  Check Bible.

  And below that, a doodle of a tree with arching branches above and sweeping roots that echoed them below. Sure enough, it was surrounded by a circle made up of a series of spirals.

  It was the same symbol I’d seen on the manuscript page earlier. She must have copied it before someone killed her.

  I turned on the camera on my phone and took a picture of the page. I pocketed it, called Dash, and went outside to wait. Then I remembered the rustle I’d heard in the bushes and rethought that decision. Azaleas or not, nighttime noises took on a whole new character after discovering a dead body.

  The scents of blood and ink lingered in the air behind me, though, and I didn’t want to stay inside. In the end, I hovered on the threshold, nervously peering into the darkness. After a few minutes, I slipped down to a half-squatting, half-sitting position, resting on my heels with my back against the doorframe. The air had grown quite cold, and I shivered. Dash pushed against my flexed thigh for comfort—his as much as mine.

  Since I’d called her first, I expected Lupe to show up first.

  She didn’t. Chief Gibbon did.

  I saw the beam of his flashlight before he rounded the corner of the library and strode toward me. He played the light over the ground, probing the bushes, and ended by shining it in my face. I’d scrambled to my feet by then, and stood blinking at him like a myopic deer in the proverbial headlights.

  He lowered the light and regarded me with a gaze as bright as a bird’s. My guess was that he hadn’t been asleep when his phone rang with the news of another murder in his town.

  “Ellie Allbright.” He swore loud enough that I flinched. “Dispatch told me you made the call. This is the third time you’re in the middle of a suspicious death, Allbright.”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault,” I said, and immediately regretted the high pitch of my voice, not to mention the playground protest.

  Grimacing, he pushed past me. “It’s that professor?”

  “Eureka Sanford.” I followed him into the reception area and pointed behind the desk. “She was at the ceremony this afternoon.” I glanced at my watch. “Er, yesterday afternoon.”

  “Leave the dog outside.” His tone was blunt as he squatted and touched Eureka’s neck as I had.

  Dash stood in the doorway. I pointed to the ground and murmured. “Sit. Stay.” He obeyed instantly.

  The chief stood and turned to regard me. “So? What’s the story?”

  Before I could answer, he looked over my shoulder. “Detective Garcia, I’m glad you’re here. Ellie was just about to tell me the tale of how she happened to come across a dead body in our brand-new museum in the middle of the damn night.”

  Lupe pressed her lips together, sidestepped my
dog, who was partially blocking the entrance, and came inside. She wore her plainclothes uniform of blazer, slacks, and button-down shirt, but her cheek still reflected a crease from the pillow I’d roused her from.

  “Chief. You made good time.” Unasked was the question of why he was there in the first place, but I could tell she wondered. He was a politics and paperwork guy, and he’d always left the fieldwork to his officers—and murder investigations to his detectives.

  “I was still up watching The Late Show, and I live closer than you do,” he said.

  Which was true. However, she’d known before he had. She didn’t mention that. I owed her one.

  “Now, back to Ms. Allbright.” He raised his eyebrows and waited.

  If I hadn’t just discovered a murder victim in the middle of the night, I might have had the good sense to come up with a reasonable story. After all, telling them that I wanted to see what was in the Xavier manuscript when there was no way I should have been able to decipher any of it, or that I’d felt its buzzing energy when I’d touched it earlier that day . . . no, they’d never buy it.

  “I, uh, I couldn’t sleep, and so I came over to make sure the time capsule display was, you know . . . nice,” I finished lamely.

  The chief’s expression was skeptical. So was Lupe’s.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “You knew the other Greenstockings would take care of that.”

  I tried again. “Sure. I just wanted to see it, you know. Since I couldn’t sleep. And Dash wanted a walk.”

  They exchanged a look.

  A deep voice came from outside. “She wanted to get her hands on the papers that were in that urn, Garcia. I caught her trying to grab them after the ceremony, and—” Detective Max Lang stopped short upon entering the room and seeing Chief Gibbon.

  “What’re you doing here, boss?” he blurted out.

  “I heard there was a murder,” Gibbon said mildly. “Seems to be a lot of those in the last year.” At this he shot a look at me.

  Max noticed and smirked. The smirk faded when the chief continued.

  “And my detectives don’t like each other, which has made it difficult for them to work together.” He looked between them. “So, I decided I needed to be personally involved before another murder has to be solved by a civilian.”

  I looked down at the ground.

  Lupe said, “Sounds good to me.” She’d been the one who requested not to work with Max after he’d bungled the investigation into my assistant’s death.

  Max looked like he always did: complexion ruddy, blond brush cut standing to military attention despite his never having served, and an expression on his face that hinted that he’d just eaten a sour grape. However, tonight he smelled of beer. Maybe that accounted for why he stood and gaped at his superior’s announcement that he’d be detecting along with his detectives.

  “I do hope that meets with your approval, Lang?” Gibbon prompted with a subtle layer of sarcasm threading his tone.

  “Well, yeah. Yeah, of course, boss. You’ll do great.”

  “Why, thank you for the vote of confidence.” This time the sarcasm positively dripped from the words.

  Max blinked.

  Lupe’s lips twitched, and she looked away.

  A swirl of lights painted the night outside, announcing the arrival of emergency personnel. It had taken them nearly twelve minutes, but that was pretty good time in the middle of the night in Poppyville.

  “Outside.” Chief Gibbon waved us out the door. “Detective Lang, I want you to coordinate with the scene techs. Garcia, you’re with me.”

  Max reddened but turned obediently toward the two jumpsuit-clad figures coming across the lawn.

  I motioned to Dash to come with us as Gibbon led us to the portico over the side entrance to the library. He took something flat and narrow out of his pocket and held it up. It took me a few seconds to realize it was a digital recorder. The green light indicated it was on.

  “Your name is Elliana Allbright?”

  “Yes.”

  He stated the date and time, then said, “Tell us what happened this evening.”

  I told them as much as I could. I left out the unexplainable twitchy feeling I had about the Xavier manuscript, but emphasized that I’d nearly turned around when I’d thought I’d heard someone in the park.

  “But Dash was kind of, you know—” I glanced at the recorder. “Insistent about going into Heritage House. So, I kind of had to follow.”

  The chief looked down at my corgi, who sat obediently at my feet. “He seems pretty well trained.”

  “He is.”

  “But he didn’t respond to your commands?”

  I shook my head. “He’s a good dog. Really. It’s just—”

  “It’s just that he sensed something was wrong inside the museum,” he said thoughtfully, still watching Dash.

  “Yeah,” I said in a tired voice.

  “Smart,” he said, and I dared to hope Chief Gibbon was one of the good ones.

  His attention returned to me. “Is what Detective Lang said true? Were you looking to take the items that were found in the butter churn?”

  “No, sir.” I raised my chin. “It’s true that I tried to look at the manuscript from the time capsule this afternoon, but then Dr. Sanford informed me that if it was indeed as old as she suspected, then it would be harmful to touch it with bare hands.”

  “And now it’s gone, along with the other items in that case.” Gibbon glanced back toward Heritage House as it was suddenly illuminated with xenon lights. “Or did I miss something?”

  I shook my head. “No, all the items are gone.” I felt sure I’d be able to sense the Xavier manuscript if it were on the premises. “Eureka was going to put the contents of the time capsule in the locked glass case. The one that’s open by the reception desk. I think she was examining the manuscript, and whoever killed her took it and all the rest.”

  “Tell me why you think that,” he said.

  “Well, for one thing, she’s wearing gloves. And I could tell she was excited about it this afternoon, even if she downplayed it to the crowd.”

  “Hmm,” he said.

  I looked at my watch. It was after one a.m.

  “The case was open, not broken,” Lupe said. “Professor Sanford would have the key. What Ellie says makes sense.”

  “Hmm,” he repeated. What about that big ol’ gold nugget? Maybe someone thought it would be in the case, too.”

  “Nope,” Max interrupted, striding over to join the discussion. “Thea Nelson asked me to go with her when she took it to the bank. Bank manager said it’s worth something like a quarter of a million dollars.”

  Lupe blinked, then looked at me. I nodded.

  Max waved toward Heritage House, where the two technicians had moved inside to do their crime scene magic. The paramedics lingered near the doorway, waiting to escort Eureka to the morgue in Silver Wells. “He put it in their vault. Those women obviously hadn’t thought much about security until that gold nugget showed up,” he said.

  I glared at him but kept my mouth shut.

  “Yes, I’m aware of where the gold nugget actually is, Detective Lang. I was the one who suggested that Ms. Nelson take it to the bank, and to ask Officer Danielson to serve as her escort. He was obviously otherwise occupied, so she asked you.”

  Max reddened enough for it to be noticeable in the dim light of the portico.

  The chief didn’t seem to notice. “My question was whether anyone might think the nugget was in the museum.” He looked thoughtful. “I bet there were at least some people who didn’t know it went to the bank.” His gaze cleared, and he nodded to himself. “It would only take one gold digger—literally. That nugget would sure be a better motive to kill someone than some old manuscript. And I can’t imagine the other stuff that was in that butter c
hurn would be worth taking.”

  “But all those items are gone,” I said slowly. “And the nugget was never there.”

  “True,” he said. “Dr. Sanford must have seen the thief’s face and became expendable as a result.” He nodded to himself again. “Her attacker might have taken the other contents of the time capsule once he—or she—realized the nugget had been stored elsewhere.”

  “She wrote a something on that notepad on the desk,” I said. “Something about—” I stopped when I saw anger flash in his eyes.

  His lips thinned. “Exactly how much snooping did you do before calling us, Ellie?”

  “It was right there on the desk. That’s hardly snooping.” I couldn’t keep the defensiveness out of my voice.

  With a skeptical expression, he turned off the recorder. He was sliding it into his pocket when light suddenly spilled from the doorway behind us. The chief whirled to reveal Maria standing in the opening. She wore pink flannel pajama bottoms under a long coat and had a black watch cap jammed over her dark hair. Her face was devoid of makeup, which gave her a vulnerable air that was only exacerbated by the quaver in her voice when she asked, “Did I hear you right? Someone is dead?”

  I grimaced. “It’s Eureka, hon.”

  She gaped for a moment, then covered her face with her hands. “No,” she whispered.

  Of all the people who had joined Dash and me after our grisly discovery, Maria was the one who triggered my empathic response. I had to take a step to catch myself under the onslaught of her natural compassion for others, now ramped up to two hundred percent.

  Neroli. Sandalwood for the heart note. And something else. I ached to give her the solace of those aromas.

  “I’m afraid so, Maria.” Lupe’s voice was kind.

  Chief Gibbon’s face remained neutral as he asked the librarian, “How is it you happen to be here tonight?”

  She dropped her hands. “Well, for Pete’s sake, Chief. You have this place lit up like a ballpark. We live right around the corner, and all the lights woke up my little girl. When I looked out and saw they were coming from the library, well, you can bet your sweet patootie I hustled myself right over to see what was the matter.”