Marigolds for Malice

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Marigolds for Malice Page 10

by Bailey Cattrell


  I shook my head. “I’ve never been in Eureka’s house. But I bet Maria could help.”

  She nodded. “I’ll call her. Better call the chief, too. I thought this was a simple burglary but didn’t realize until after the call came in that this was Eureka Sanford’s residence.”

  Lupe pointed at the Perezes. “You two stay here.”

  Trixie huffed and went to stand by the porch railing. Warren, looking pensive, went to stand by her.

  “Better check inside to make sure no one is in there,” Lupe said to Officer Danielson. “Try not to disturb anything.”

  Danielson nodded and unsnapped his holster, then trotted up the steps and went into Eureka’s house.

  While Lupe called Maria and Chief Gibbon, I went back to my vehicle, opened the newly purchased bag of peanut butter treats, and gave a couple of them to Dash. After all, the poor guy had spent hours stuck in the Wrangler that afternoon. While he gobbled them down, I grabbed my phone and retreated to the far side of the street to call Maggie. As I waited for her to pick up, I noticed a few more people on the block had come out of their houses to see what was going on.

  “Scents and Nonsense.”

  “Maggie, it’s Ellie. I’m so sorry, but I’ve run into a situation, and I’m going to be late. Is there any chance you could stay until four? Or does your shift at the Roux start at three?”

  “It starts at three,” she said.

  I groaned. It was five minutes to.

  “But don’t you worry,” she said. “I’ll make it work.”

  “No, no. I don’t want you to get in trouble with Harris. Just go ahead and close the shop, and I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The restaurant will be dead until at least five, and this time of year things are slow even during happy hour, other than Fridays. I’ll get someone to cover for me, and I’ll make some excuse for Harris, so he won’t be mad at you.”

  “I couldn’t care less if he gets angry at me, I just don’t want him making life difficult for you.”

  “Don’t worry. I can handle Harris.”

  I thanked her profusely and hung up just as Maria arrived. I met her on the street as she got out of her minivan. “Hey. Welcome to the party. I just met Warren and Trixie, and they’re as delightful as you might think.” I surreptitiously pointed at the couple.

  “Great,” Maria muttered, and we went through the gate into Eureka’s yard. Officer Danielson had come back out of the house and was looking around the perimeter of the front fence.

  Lupe came over, still speaking into her phone. “Sure, boss. We’ll take a look inside, and then I’ll cordon it off. You can come take a look after your meeting.” A pause. “Right, sir. I’ll take care of it.” She hung up and made a face. “Chief was in a sit-down with a county task force this morning, and a budget meeting all afternoon.”

  “Busy man. Must make it hard to investigate a murder,” I said mildly.

  “He’s a good cop.” Her tone was a little defensive. “And it’s not like Max and I are sitting on the sidelines.”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  My friend was in a difficult situation. It was hard enough working with Max without Chief Gibbon slowing things down by trying to do the jobs of chief and detective at the same time—even if his intentions were good.

  She nodded to Maria. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

  “No problem. My assistant can handle things at the library on her own for a while.”

  “Well, come on inside. Officer Danielson took a quick look, and the things most burglars would take—TV, stereo, smaller electronics—are still there. I’m hoping you can tell us if something else was taken during the break-in.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Maria said.

  I followed them onto the porch, and when Trixie saw we were going inside, she made as if to follow.

  Maria stopped. “Detective Garcia? Are they coming in, too? I don’t think Eureka would want . . .” She trailed off.

  “Who the heck are you?” Trixie demanded. “And how would you know the first thing about what Eureka would want? She left us this house, after all.”

  The librarian drew herself up to her full height and raised her chin. “I was her friend. She told me all about you. And this house isn’t yours yet!”

  Warren put his hand on his wife’s arm, but she angrily shrugged him off. She opened her mouth to retort, when Lupe held up her palm.

  “I’d like you to stay out here.” She waved over the patrolman. “And I’m sure you won’t mind if Officer Danielson takes a look inside your truck.”

  “What? You think we stole something?” Trixie spluttered. “You think we broke into Eureka’s house? And then were stupid enough to call the police?”

  “Trix!” Warren said.

  She ignored him.

  Lupe smiled pleasantly and called, “Officer? These people are going to open up their truck, so you can look inside.”

  “No, we’re not!” Trixie said. “I know my rights, lady—”

  “Yes, we are,” her husband said wearily, and led Officer Danielson over to their vehicle.

  “Warren!”

  We turned and went inside the house.

  Maria went into each room on the first floor, scanning the contents of each with care before moving to the next one. The kitchen still smelled vaguely of toast and the ripening bananas in a bowl on the counter. In the rest of the house, Eureka’s furnishings were sparse and the dust bunnies profuse. It fit with her personality—laser focused on the things that mattered to her and not giving a hoot about the little stuff. I could tell her loss weighed heavily on Maria. When I saw her remove the essential oil blend I’ve given her earlier in the day from her pocket and take a sniff, I was glad.

  On the second floor, we went into Eureka’s bedroom. It smelled of Ivory soap and mothballs. Each of us contemplated the rumpled sheets for a long moment before moving into her office next door. There I smelled the familiar scent of fountain pen ink I’d come to associate with the dead woman.

  Maria paused in front of her desk. “Her laptop is gone.”

  Lupe and I came to stand on either side of her. Sure enough, there was a square on the mahogany surface defined by the dust around it. We stepped back as Maria moved to look behind the desk and on top of the return that created an L-shaped work surface for the academic.

  I looked around at the rest of the office. The bookshelves were packed, and a giant Boston fern arched over the deep window. A funny Charles Bragg print on the wall behind the desk was the only decoration.

  “Did she work on it a lot?” I asked Maria, thoroughly puzzled. I hadn’t ever seen Eureka with a laptop, and she’d still used a flip phone rather than a smartphone—rather pointedly, in fact.

  “Some,” Maria said. “At least, she brought it to the library to do research for her book. She didn’t love technology. Maybe it was because she spent her whole life studying the past, but she was a bit of a Luddite. She used her computer for getting information off the Internet, but she took a lot of notes on legal pads, too.”

  Like the one she’d been taking notes on when she was killed.

  “Did she tell you much about her book?” I asked Maria. “I know it was about everyday life during the gold rush.”

  “Specifically about everyday life for women,” she corrected me. “She spent a lot of time in the library looking through our local reference materials. You’d think it would be fairly simple, but there were a lot of different types of women in Poppyville then, as now. Different religions, races, and cultures, and they all operated in a complicated social strata. Her academic focus was on Western US history, California history, and the gold rush in particular. That’s why she was so interested in getting Heritage House up and running. She told me she’d published another book based on real-life events severa
l years ago, and it was quite successful. She was happy to have the time to write again after retiring and hoped she could still leverage her earlier success for her new book.”

  We were silent for a moment, thinking about how Eureka would never be able to finish her project now.

  “Do you think Warren and Trixie took the computer?” Maria wondered aloud.

  I frowned. “Why? I mean, it wouldn’t be worth enough to steal, would it? Not if they left the stereo and television downstairs.”

  Maria shrugged. “I don’t see how it would be valuable to anyone but Eureka.”

  “There could be other things besides book research on it. What if there was something on it about her will? Or if they could get access to her bank account?” I wondered out loud.

  Her eyes widened in alarm.

  Lupe said, “We’ll follow up on the bank accounts, but people don’t typically keep a copy of their will online.”

  Maria’s face cleared. “Tom Beagle was Eureka’s attorney here. He’d have a copy of her will.”

  “Good to know.” Lupe scanned the room again. “And if Warren and Trixie did take her laptop, Danielson will have found it in their vehicle by now.”

  Unless they had taken it and came back later to report the burglary. Or hid it someplace to retrieve later. But why would they? Impossible to tell without knowing what was on the computer.

  Then another thought struck me. What if Eureka had information about the Xavier manuscript on the computer? I’d done a little bit of research between waiting on customers that morning but hadn’t found any reference to old manuscripts using multiple alphabets. Perhaps Eureka had had better luck. Perhaps she’d discovered something that impelled her to go look at it again at Heritage House.

  Maria interrupted my thoughts. “Those two are Eureka’s only family.” Her expression soured. “I don’t know what kind of arrangements they’ll make for her, but I feel like we should have some kind of gathering in her memory. Something informal, like a party with some of the people who knew her and worked with her.”

  “Oh, what a good idea,” I said as we went back downstairs. “When would you want to have it?”

  “The sooner the better,” Maria said. “How about tomorrow afternoon?”

  I nodded. “We could have it in the Enchanted Garden in the late afternoon. Say, four o’clock?”

  She smiled. “Thank you, Ellie! She loved spending time there. No videos or photomontages or eulogies. Just mingling and drinks and friends.”

  Lupe made a face. “You might need to wait. The morgue can’t release—”

  I held my hand up. “We’re just talking about a friendly gathering, not a funeral.”

  “Yes,” Maria agreed. The idea seemed to have given her a bit of peace.

  We paused inside the doorway. Lupe looked thoughtful. “Are you going to invite those two?” She pointed out the window.

  The librarian started to shake her head, but Lupe held up her hand. “Because I think you ought to.”

  Maria sighed. “Oh, all right.”

  I exchanged a look with the detective. She didn’t care if the Perezes felt left out; she saw the gathering as a possible way to get more information about Eureka’s murder. I didn’t disagree.

  When we went back outside, Warren and a still-fuming Trixie were waiting with the patrolman, who reported there was nothing suspect in their truck.

  “I told you!” Trixie said.

  Lupe thanked them for their cooperation, gave Warren her card, and said she’d be in touch if she had more questions. Maria told them about our plan for Eureka’s memorial, implying they could come but not specifically inviting them. Trixie sniffed, but Warren straightened his spine and thanked Maria.

  After the couple left, Lupe and Danielson retrieved yellow crime scene tape from his vehicle and began draping it around Eureka’s front porch. Maria headed back to her minivan, and I hightailed it back to my Jeep and my patiently waiting corgi.

  CHAPTER 11

  THERE was an impromptu tea party in the Enchanted Garden when I got back. Three little girls and one little boy were gathered around the wicker table tucked into an alcove by the big, engraved boulder. Maggie had moved one of the chairs from the back porch to round out the three wicker chairs that were already there, and the kids sat on the edges, their feet swinging, sipping lemonade from teacups and munching on Astrid’s chocolate crinkle cookies.

  Two women looked on from the bistro set over by the retaining wall, and I could detect the tang of Darjeeling curling up from the hot tea in their cups. Nabby kept an eye on everyone from the bench by the hydrangea.

  I told Maggie about Eureka’s memorial the next day. She told me she’d try to make it, but she was scheduled to work at the Roux during the early Friday happy hour. She offered to order a selection of appetizers and have them ready for me to pick up, though. I thanked her profusely and sent her on her way, thankful she’d only be an hour late for her shift at the restaurant.

  After she left, I went out to greet the customers in the garden. I brought a pitcher of lemonade to refill the kids’ cups, then took it over to where the women sat. The tall blond was Tessa of Tessa’s Tea Room, so when she praised the tea blend they were drinking, I felt gratified. Her companion was Zoe Ward, the mayor’s wife, who had come into Scents & Nonsense quite a bit during the first few months I was open.

  “Glad you two stopped by,” I said. “Haven’t seen you for a while, Zoe. Did I miss you at the opening of the time capsule yesterday?”

  Egad. Had it just been yesterday?

  Zoe shook her head. “Delia had a dentist appointment.”

  “I missed it, too,” Tessa said with a sigh. “I wish I’d been there, though. Sounds like the museum is closed indefinitely after what happened to Eureka Sanford.” She shuddered, and Zoe and I nodded in silent agreement with her reaction.

  Then Zoe nodded toward the table. “We thought they deserved a little treat after school today.” She sighed, and I felt the exhaustion rolling off her.

  Overworked, and not getting nearly enough rest.

  She was mother to three of the kiddos at the table, plus known for taking on a pile of volunteer work. I could only imagine all the invisible stuff that must go along with being the wife of an ambitious mayor on the cusp of election season, even in a small town.

  “Maybe you deserve a treat, too,” I suggested gently.

  “Oh, those cookies look yummy, but I just can’t. The pounds just sneak up on me if I’m not vigilant.”

  “I wasn’t talking about food.”

  “Ellie can give you something to help you sleep,” Tessa suggested.

  I turned my attention to her, but she radiated peace and calm. Good.

  “There are a few things we might try,” I said to Zoe. “Let me take a look. In the meantime, do you want more tea?”

  They demurred, and I went back into Scents & Nonsense feeling as tired as if I’d run a marathon. Of course, I’d only managed four hours of sleep the night before, but I knew some of it was a reflection of Zoe’s fatigue.

  First, I selected a small bottle from the display case and sniffed the contents. It didn’t contain perfume, but strands of saffron. The scent was delicate, but made me feel stronger. Zoe needed a bit more, though. To help her sleep, I selected a custom blend of oils I’d distilled the summer before from four different kinds of thyme that grew in the Enchanted Garden, along with a dose of soothing lavender.

  Back out in the garden, I handed her the bottles and told her to open them by her bedside before she went to sleep at night. She accepted them with gratitude.

  “I’m happy to help. Please let me know how they work.”

  Something was still missing, though. Then my gaze fell on the tumble of sweet pea vines twisting up from a carpet of spent crocuses. They were beginning to bloom on the trellis that hid the spigot and hose a
t the side of the shop.

  Of course. Crocuses for cheer, but sweet peas for bliss.

  I hurried over, picked two small bouquets, and inhaled the sweet, spicy fragrance of the delicate flowers. Instantly I felt happier. Back at the table I handed each of the women a nosegay. “A little something extra. I’ll grab some bottles you can use as vases.”

  “Oh, Ellie. These are precious. Thank you!”

  “Glad to help,” I said with a smile, and left them to resume their conversation.

  Back inside Scents & Nonsense, I started making calls to the Greenstockings to let them know about Eureka’s impromptu memorial the next afternoon, and to ask them all to pass along the invitation to anyone they thought should know—and to ask everyone they spoke with to do the same. Anyone who wanted to honor Eureka should know about tomorrow’s gathering in the Enchanted Garden by the end of the day. Heck, in twenty-four hours everyone in Poppyville would know about it.

  Bless their hearts, everyone dove right in with offers of refreshments, too. Astrid promised cookies, of course, and Gessie would bring her famous guacamole. Thea, who didn’t cook, offered to bring beer, and volunteered Ritter to pick up plates, cups, and utensils. I called Felicity last. She answered her cell with a distracted hello, then asked me to hang on for a sec.

  “Yes, of course, Dr. Radcliffe,” I heard her say. “I’ll let housekeeping know. Oh, if you’d rather, I’ll connect you to them now. Hold the line.”

  A few seconds later she said, “Ellie, are you still there?”

  “I’m here,” I said. “You sound like you’re still at work.”

  “Front desk guy called in sick, so I’m covering for him.”

  “The glamorous life of a manager,” I said. “Listen, Maria thought we should all get together to honor Eureka, and I agree.”

  “That’s a great idea. When and where?”

  I filled her in on the details and asked her to pass them along to anyone who might be interested. “In fact,” I added, “Odell Radcliffe might want to come.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll let him know.”

 

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