Marigolds for Malice

by Bailey Cattrell

  I suppressed a smile.

  Then the verve faded from her voice as she said, “And now you say Eureka is dead. She said she wasn’t going to be here long. What happened?”

  I opened my mouth, but Gibbon held up his hand.

  “You knew she was here?” he asked.

  Maria nodded and hugged her coat closer, as if to ward off more than the chill in the air. “She said she wanted to look at some of the stuff that was in the time capsule. Just a quick look, she said. It was kind of late, but she’d worked a lot of evenings getting Heritage House ready, so I didn’t really think anything of it.”

  “What time was this?” Gibbon asked.

  “She was parking out on the street as I was leaving for home,” Maria said. “The library closes at eight this time of year, but I had some ordering to do. I stayed late to finish. It must have been almost nine thirty.”

  Chief Gibbon nodded and turned to me. “And you arrived here after midnight?”

  I said, “Just after, I think.”

  “So, are you going to tell me what happened to Eureka?” Maria sounded perturbed.

  “She was—” I began.

  “Ellie,” Lupe said.

  “What? Everyone is going to know tomorrow. Is it a big secret?”

  “Ms. Canto,” Gibbon broke in. “I’m afraid it looks like Dr. Sanford was attacked on the premises of Heritage House.”

  Her eyes widened. “Attacked?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid she died from her injuries. Did you happen to see anyone else around when you left work this evening? Anyone acting suspicious?”

  She shook her head, eyes round. “Mrs. Paulson was walking Precious across the street, is all.”

  “Precious is her dog, then?” He ducked his head to make a note.

  “Pig,” I corrected.

  He looked up.

  “Precious is a fifty-pound pot-bellied pig,” I said. “I’m surprised your wife hasn’t gotten one yet.”

  He rubbed his eyes. “God forbid.” The hand dropped, and he returned his attention to Maria. “Okay. You saw Mrs. Paulson and her, er, pig. No one else?”

  She shook her head. “Did you catch who attacked Eureka?”

  “Well, now—” Max started.

  “No,” I said.

  She looked around the library grounds, so bright by the floodlights that it could have been high noon but surrounded by deep dark night. “I have to go.”

  “All right, that’s fine,” Gibbon said. “If you could—”

  “No, I have to go now. My little girl will be frightened, and I think I might have left the front door unlocked. My husband is fast asleep.”

  “Chief,” I said. “Maybe someone could go with her.”

  I thought he’d call over one of the patrolmen, but he nodded at Lupe. “Garcia.”

  “Sure, boss,” she said easily, and followed Maria back into the library to lock up before escorting her home.

  “Chief?” a voice called from Heritage House. “Do you want us to wait for the state patrol to get here before we move the body?”

  I shuddered.

  “Ellie, I’ll catch up with you if I have more questions,” he said. “You need an escort home, too?”

  Glancing at Max, I said, “No thanks. I have Dash.”

  Gibbon looked down at my dog, nodded, then motioned to Max. Together, they moved back toward the museum.

  I followed as far as the wrought iron fence that surrounded the yard around Heritage House, as if I could somehow still help. But I couldn’t. I stuttered to a stop, watching, something in me unwilling to leave poor Eureka alone.

  She was hardly alone.

  No, there were a half dozen people there with her. It was Eureka who was gone.

  I glanced down at that thought, whether in a moment of reverence or prayer, I couldn’t have said. That was when I saw the corner of paper poking out from under one of the azaleas inside the fence. Without thinking, I kneeled to pick it up. Dash had been right on my heels and nosed my hand for a scratch. Absently, I fondled his ears and reached for the half-hidden item with my other hand.

  The second I touched it, a strange sadness shot through me, familiar in an unsettling way. Usually when I felt someone else’s pain, I could tell it was theirs. This felt like my own, but it was coming from an outside object.

  I tugged it out and saw it was the envelope that had been missing from the glass case. The one with my look-alike’s picture inside. And the dried marigold. Without opening it, I knew it still contained both. Why was it out in the bushes? Had the killer dropped it?

  Take it to Chief Gibbon, said the smart voice in the back of my head.

  Who was this woman? Why does her photo make me feel this way? asked the other, not-so-smart one.

  I sighed and took the advice of the smart voice for once. I backtracked inside the fence, and Max nearly ran over me as he bustled out the door of the museum.

  He glared at me. “Can’t help snooping a little more, eh, Allbright?”

  “No, I found—”

  “Time for you to go home and let the real police investigate this.” His tone was heavy with condescension.

  “But—”

  “Go on, now. We don’t need your help.”

  “Max! I—”

  He looked over his shoulder, then back at me. “I’m serious. Get out of my way,” he gritted.

  Anger flared through my weariness and sadness, and at the same time the need to know more about the picture of my doppelgänger flared even stronger.

  “Fine.” I turned away, slid the envelope into the sleeve of my jacket, and walked toward Corona Street.

  CHAPTER 6

  IN front of the library, I paused by the collection of emergency vehicles. Rapid footsteps behind me made me whirl around.

  “Astrid?”

  She was hurrying toward me, the cute guy from the time capsule ceremony trying to keep up. A long silk skirt swirled around her ankles, and her hair was plaited in a single braid over one shoulder.

  “Ellie! What the heck?” She nearly knocked me off my feet with a bear hug. “What are you doing out here so late? What are all those lights? Are you okay?” Her face was flushed.

  “I’m fine. But Eureka . . .” I trailed off, suddenly so tired I wasn’t sure I had the energy to walk the two blocks home.

  Her date stepped up to stand beside her.

  “This is Dylan Wong,” Astrid said. “And, Dylan, this is Ellie Allbright.”

  “Hi, Ellie.” His voice was deep and pleasant.

  I nodded to him.

  “Something happened to Eureka?” She scanned the police cruisers and ambulance, the skin around her eyes pinched with worry.

  “Um, could I call you later?” My eyes cut to her companion.

  “No!” she said. “Tell me now. What happened?”

  I sighed. “I’m afraid she’s dead.” I wished I could have said it better.

  My best friend’s mouth dropped open. “But . . . what?” she finally said.

  “Did she have a heart attack or something?” Dylan asked, not unkindly.

  Locking eyes with Astrid, I shook my head. In that instant, understanding passed between us, and all the blood drained from her face.

  “No,” she whispered.

  I cleared my throat. “What are you doing out and about?”

  “We were taking a stroll after the Horseshoe Bar closed at midnight.” She flashed a distracted smile at Dylan.

  He slid his arm around her. “We saw the lights, and Astrid had to come see what was going on.” He smiled at her. “Like a little moth to the flame.”

  Yuck.

  Astrid’s eyebrow twitched as she turned toward her date and stepped away. “Tell you what, Dylan. You go on back to the hotel, and I’ll give Ellie here a ride home in my
car.”

  “Well, why don’t—” he began.

  “And I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Give me a call when you get a chance.”

  “Um . . .”

  “Come on, Ellie,” she said, and marched across the street to where she was parked.

  Dylan looked surprised but followed obediently after, as did I. Standing by her ancient Peugeot, Astrid allowed him to give her an awkward kiss on the cheek. Then she waved good-bye as he continued down the block to the Hotel California, where he was evidently staying. Dash and I slid into the passenger side as she got behind the wheel.

  “I didn’t mean to break up your date,” I said as she started the engine. “It’s only a couple of blocks . . .”

  “Nonsense. You’re my bestie, and you need me. Plus, Dylan seemed to want to continue our date in his hotel room, which I had no intention of doing.”

  “On a first date?”

  “Yup. Besides, I want to know what the heck happened to Eureka.”

  “Ah,” I said, and filled her in on everything.

  “Hit with a shovel?” she asked with horror when I was done. By now her car had been parked in front of Scents & Nonsense for quite a while.

  I nodded. “It was pretty awful.”

  “I bet.” She grimaced, and then her expression turned thoughtful. “And that manuscript was why you were acting so funny yesterday afternoon. Huh. You say it felt like it was calling you?”

  I nodded, glad Astrid knew me well enough to take my “feelings” seriously. The one thing I’d left out of my narrative was taking the photo of my twin.

  I’d take it to Chief Gibbon tomorrow.

  Slumping in my seat, I said, “Yep. And now the Xavier manuscript is gone.”

  “Are you going to try to find it?”

  I blinked. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Well, maybe the police will find it.” She sounded doubtful.

  “Maybe.” But what if they didn’t?

  Suddenly, Astrid let out a huge yawn.

  “Ohmagod,” I said, looking at my watch. “It’s almost three. Are you working tomorrow? Er, today.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I work every day. But yes, I have to be at Dr. Ericcson’s at nine sharp.”

  “I’ll let you go, then,” I said. “No cookies tomorrow.”

  “And disappoint your customers? Are you kidding? I have a bunch of chocolate crinkles in the freezer. I’ll drop them by on my way to work.”

  I adored her chocolate crinkle cookies. “You don’t have to do that.” I opened the passenger door, and Dash jumped to the ground.

  “Pshaw,” she said with a wave. “I’ll wait until I see you flash your porch light.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and shut the door.

  As I hurried through the gate and down the path, I sensed nothing awry. If anything, it was eerily quiet. Every leaf and bloom was still, and not a trace of a breeze moved the cool night air. It was as if everything in the Enchanted Garden was holding its breath.

  Dash seemed most intent on getting inside for a late-night snack, which I gave him after flashing the porch light three times for Astrid’s benefit. I felt so weary I barely managed to climb my bookshelf staircase to the bedroom. Once there, I tumbled onto the bed, pulled the quilt over myself, and plummeted into unconsciousness.

  * * *

  • • •

  MY alarm buzzed insistently at seven o’clock, jerking me out of a sound sleep. Usually, I woke up long before it went off, but not this time. Groggy, I slid my feet to the floor and realized I was still wearing the long-sleeved T-shirt and yoga pants I’d put on to walk to Heritage House the night before.

  Heritage House. Eureka. The mysterious manuscript. I sighed.

  At least I’d taken my shoes off. Dash watched with interest as I grumbled my way to the built-in cupboards at the end of the bed where my fleece robe was stashed. I donned it, then stumbled to the staircase and made my way down. Without thinking, I grazed Gamma’s garden journal with my fingertips like I always did in the morning.

  It was so warm I jerked my hand away in surprise.

  Blinking blearily, I considered the well-thumbed and dirt-stained volume. There was something in there I was supposed to read—the sooner the better.

  Coffee first. Whatever it is, I definitely need coffee first.

  While the caffeine dripped into the carafe at an agonizingly slow speed, I splashed water on my face at the kitchen sink and dried it with a paper towel. Gazing out the window toward the meadow out back, images from the night before played on my mental movie screen.

  Eureka lying on her back. Blood on the shovel. The open display case. Legal pad on the reception desk, glowing yellow in the lamplight.

  Shaking my head, I filled my largest mug with fresh brew, retrieved the garden journal on my way through the living room, and stepped out back. The afghan was still draped across the porch swing, so I snuggled under it while Dash went to the edge of the meadow to take care of his morning business.

  A few bracing swallows of caffeine later, I set the mug down on a table. Gamma’s book still felt warm as a puppy, even in the brisk morning air. Taking a deep breath, I allowed it to fall open.

  And blinked. The page showed the colored pencil drawing of the marigold that I’d seen the night before, but now there were a few additions. Next to the flower were three lines of writing I could have sworn weren’t there before, and on the opposite page a new drawing had appeared.

  The words were neatly penned in Gamma’s handwriting. How did she do that? I looked around as if I could see her spirit but saw only wind-bent grasses and a hawk drifting on a thermal above the meadow.

  Frowning, I turned my attention back to the journal and read.

  Violent death times three

  Will summon thee

  Daughter of Kell

  I felt my brow knit as I reread the lines. Okay, “violent death times three” made sense, since Eureka’s murder was the third one in the last year. But who the heck was Kell, and who was her—or his—daughter?

  Sighing with frustration, I took a sip of rapidly cooling coffee and examined the drawing on the opposite page. The picture wasn’t typical of Gamma’s usual crisp renderings. It looked as if it had been crafted with only a few smudged strokes of black charcoal. A woman in a high-necked dress and with long, dark curls.

  It could have been the same woman in the photo from the time capsule. There wasn’t enough detail to be able to tell whether the drawing looked that much like me. However, there was one thing that stood out clearly among the otherwise dusky lines.

  The brooch nestled at her throat showed the same tree symbol I’d seen in the Xavier manuscript. The one Eureka had drawn right before her death. In fact, it was the most clearly drawn thing in the picture.

  A chill ran down my spine, and it had nothing to do with the slight breeze coming off Kestrel Peak.

  Leaving Dash to nose at the dew-covered grass, I went back inside and retrieved the pilfered photo of my doppelgänger from where, in my exhaustion, I’d left it by my jacket on the love seat. Returning to the porch where the light was better, I carefully extracted the picture by the edges so as not to smudge any possible fingerprints on the surface.

  It was as if I were looking into a mirror through time.

  Holding it next to the vague drawing in Gamma’s journal, I compared the two. The necklines of the dresses in each were high and lacy, and the buttoned yokes were similar. The photo showed the pattern of the dress to be a flowered calico, but the drawing showed no pattern. The face in the drawing hinted at a narrow chin and wide eyes.

  Putting the journal aside, I stepped off the porch and into the direct sunlight.

  There. Can it be?

  It was. My photo twin was wearing a brooch at her throat where one might expect a cameo pin. But this was no came
o.

  It was the tree symbol all over again, just like in the drawing.

  “What the heck?” I muttered out loud. Dash came trotting over.

  Gingerly, I turned the photo over and held it at an angle, hoping to see if there was the name of a photographer or photographic studio on the back. There wasn’t, but I did see the faint outline of a name penciled in one corner.

  Alma.

  “Okay, Alma. Who were you? And what’s up with that tree?”

  Dash cocked his head as I slipped her likeness back into its envelope.

  I smiled down at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

  Somehow.

  The hawk’s hunting cry echoed from the blue-green foothills. A breeze kicked up, bending the dry, dead grasses with a susurrant whisper. Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. A pure white doe stepped from the copse of trees at the edge of the meadow, moving from the shadows on delicate, strong hooves. The morning sunlight struck her glowing coat with supernatural brilliance. She stopped and blinked at me, and I saw that she wasn’t a true albino at all. Her eyes were deep brown and luminous beneath long lashes.

  “Well. Hello there,” I breathed. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

  Her head dipped, and she tugged at a spray of emerging spring grass with her teeth. I watched, transfixed, as she roamed from one green delicacy to the next. Dash settled next to my foot, also watching, but somehow knowing not to disturb her.

  Then she suddenly stood tall and looked around as if something had startled her. She met my eye, tipped her head to one side in an oddly human gesture, then spun and bounded back into the trees.

  I let out a long breath. It seemed like the last twenty-four hours had been fraught with signs, most of which didn’t make any sense, and the doe’s appearance felt like another one. However, I’d seen her before—when I’d needed to be reminded of my own delicate strength.

  And I’d been investigating a murder that time, too.