Marigolds for Malice

by Bailey Cattrell

  “Oh, honey,” he said sadly.

  “I did it for you,” she said in a small voice.

  “Did you try to poison me for him, too?” I asked.

  She whirled to face me. “You’re a snoop, you know that? Digging into everything. And that woman, the bartender at the place where Daddy was when I was, well, you know.”

  “Murdering Eureka,” Astrid supplied.

  Haley ignored her. “I found out she works for you.”

  “And you were afraid she would mess up your alibi. Well,” I said. “You were right. And you made my boyfriend really ill.” I glanced at Lupe. “Add a charge of attempted murder to the mix.”

  She nodded and reached for her cuffs again. “Come along, Ms. Radcliffe.”

  Haley looked around wildly. “You can’t let them take me to jail!”

  “Honey, I can’t stop them,” Odell said.

  She glared at him. Suddenly she pulled a small black boxy-looking thing from the pocket of her skirt. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Lupe reach for her gun, but Haley had already stepped to Astrid’s side and held the box against her neck.

  “Daddy got me this thing for protection. If I ever needed protection, it’s now.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face.

  Astrid, on the other hand, appeared unfazed. “It won’t kill me, Lupe. Go ahead and shoot her.”

  Haley asked, “Are you sure about that? Ever been tased in the neck before?” Her voice was dreamy.

  Astrid didn’t say anything.

  “Go back to the hotel, Daddy. Pack your bags. We have to leave.”

  He shook his head. “No, Haley.”

  “There are police out there,” Lupe said. “You can’t get away.”

  Haley frowned. “We’ll see.” Her hand moved down to Astrid’s back, and I heard a quick buzzing sound.

  My best friend’s eyes grew round, then her face squeezed in pain and she collapsed to the floor.

  “Astrid!”

  Lupe pulled her gun, but Haley was already running. But she was too close to me, and Lupe hesitated instead of shooting. In that split second, Haley was out the door. The detective followed on her heels.

  I heard another buzz and saw Lupe drop to the ground.

  Haley took off running again. She was faster than I would have ever expected. Odell ran out the door after her.

  Astrid moaned, and I dropped to my knees beside her. Her pulse was fast, but she was conscious. I went outside to check on Lupe when I heard the shot.

  Lights came on all over the library park. Where had they come from? Then I saw Chief Gibbon striding toward us.

  “Lupe’s hurt,” I called.

  A paramedic came over. “Not as hurt as the girl who was shot. I’ll be back.”

  Gibbon stopped in front of me. “Well, Allbright. It looks like you weaseled your way into another official investigation.”

  Lupe rolled to her knees, and he helped her to her feet. She was breathing hard.

  “You okay, Garcia?”

  She nodded. “Sure, boss. Thanks for the save.”

  “My pleasure. And, Allbright? Nice job.”

  My jaw went slack with surprise.

  Astrid staggered out of the museum. “What happened?”

  I put my arm around her. “Apparently, Lupe decided she didn’t want to lose her job if things went wrong.”

  The detective winced, then grinned. “And boy, did they go wrong.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Is Haley dead?”

  Gibbon shook his head. “Max winged Ms. Radcliffe. She’s unhappy, but not too damaged. Her father is with her.”

  CHAPTER 26

  LUPE called me this morning,” I said. “They tested the stuff that was on the gold nugget, and sure enough, it was blood.”

  “You sound almost happy about that,” Ritter said, leaning back on my love seat and lacing his fingers over his abdomen.

  “Well, not happy, exactly. But it’s nice to be right.”

  “Mm.”

  The air was redolent with the scents of bacon and onions, chicken and red wine. I’d finally managed to make it to the grocery store, and we’d finally had our dinner date, albeit at home. I’d put my coq au vin up against any restaurant meal.

  Ritter seemed to agree.

  He’d made a full recovery, except for being unable to remember what he’d said in the truck on the ride to the clinic. All he knew was that he’d confessed to sacrificing his work for our relationship, and I was having none of it. He’d made the call, and thankfully, the research team hadn’t filled the position he’d turned down.

  I had three months with him before he had to go. However, this time, he’d only be gone for two months, and I’d already bought a plane ticket to go visit him in the middle. Between Maggie and Larken, Scents & Nonsense wouldn’t lose a beat during the summer season, and Dash would stay with Astrid.

  Even though I was as much of a homebody as they came, the thought of a real vacation in the wilds of Montana was appealing.

  “Spence took off, huh,” Ritter said.

  I frowned. “I thought you were going to stop worrying about him.”

  “I’m not worried. I just want to know if he’s gone.”

  “For a while. He’s embedded with a team in Somalia. I don’t know for how long. I don’t think he does, either.”

  “Somalia. That’s probably dangerous.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your men keep leaving you.”

  “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

  “Good.”

  In fact, Spence had stopped by Scents & Nonsense to see me before he left. He’d brought me the gift he’d mentioned after he returned from his photo shoot at El Capitán—a smooth agate pendant with what looked like a tiny fern preserved inside the clear stone. It looked like something from a gift shop, but I still liked it. We’d managed to patch things up, but I didn’t know if we’d ever be the kind of close friends we were before. I didn’t know if he’d really come back to Poppyville, either.

  I sat up with a groan. “I’m exhausted.”

  He straightened. “So am I. Maybe we should go to bed.”

  “That is a very good idea,” I said with a smile.

  Dash woofed and ran up the stairs.

  As I passed by Gamma’s journal, I trailed my fingers over the cover. It was cool as the back side of a pillow.

  * * *

  • • •

  THE next morning, I left Ritter to his slumber and padded downstairs in the predawn light. Coffee brewed, and I bundled into my fleece robe and went out to the back porch. The wine-stained ottoman had gone to the dump, and the floor was scheduled to be replaced in a week.

  Haley had admitted to dosing our wine with jimsonweed. She’d thought I knew more than I did after she heard me talking with Astrid and Dylan at the Roux. She was set to go to trial in six months and, in the meantime, was enjoying three square meals a day in jail.

  Eureka’s computer, the diary page, the claims map, the restaurant menu, and the town photo had been found in Haley’s room safe at the Hotel California, where she put them for safekeeping. They were stored as police evidence along with the photo of Alma, Charles Bettelheim’s diary, and the Xavier manuscript that Bongo Pete had found.

  Haley had admitted that she impulsively ditched the Xavier manuscript after overhearing me talking to Dylan about it in the Roux. However, she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of the other items she’d taken from Heritage House, even though they were incriminating, until she was sure her father wouldn’t need them to continue Eureka’s work on the book.

  The police were working with the forest service to use the claims maps to find where Alma was buried. As Alma’s kin, I should have been on board with that. There was something about her being out in the wild that I l
iked, though, and a part of me hoped they’d never find my nature-loving aunt. If she was out there in the foothills, she was where she belonged, regardless of the tragedy that put her there.

  I sipped my coffee and watched the sun lighten the sky as I did most mornings now.

  Waiting.

  While I waited, I often thought about what Bongo Pete had said about Kell. About how it was all of this. All of everything. The trees and the water and the energy that thrummed though every living being. It was a comforting thought. A feeling of belonging.

  I’d been waiting for her every morning, half anticipating, half anxious that the cougar might have hunted her down. So I was both thrilled and relieved when the white doe stepped from the shadows of the trees to gaze at me.

  Safe and sound. Strong and delicate at the same time.

  She didn’t eat. Just looked and looked.

  And as I lost myself in her glistening brown eyes, I thought of Gamma’s journal.

  Violent death times three.

  Will summon thee.

  And I finally realized who the daughter of Kell was.

  It was me.

  RECIPES AND AROMATHERAPY

  ASTRID’S CHOCOLATE CRINKLE COOKIES

  These fudgy gems are dense, rich, and not overly sweet. There’s no need for an electric mixer—using a hand whisk easily does the job. The perfect cookie to have with a glass of cold milk or a cup of strong black tea.

  Makes 24 cookies

  1 cup all-purpose flour

  ½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ½ teaspoon salt

  ¼ teaspoon baking soda

  3 large eggs

  1½ cups brown sugar

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped

  4 tablespoons unsalted butter

  ½ cup granulated sugar

  ½ cup powdered sugar

  Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F and line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

  In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, salt, and baking soda. In a large bowl, beat the eggs then mix in the brown sugar and vanilla until just blended. In a small glass bowl, combine the unsweetened chocolate and butter, and microwave at 50 percent power for 2 to 3 minutes until melted, stirring occasionally.

  Slowly whisk the chocolate mixture into the egg mixture until combined. Fold in the flour mixture until there are no dry streaks. Allow the dough to sit for 10 minutes.

  Put the granulated sugar in one bowl and the powdered sugar in a second. Scoop out the dough 2 tablespoons at a time, and roll it into balls. Drop each ball into the granulated sugar and roll to coat, then transfer it to the powdered sugar and roll to coat again. Arrange the cookies 2 to 3 inches apart on the parchment paper–lined baking sheets.

  Bake the cookies, one sheet at a time, until puffy and cracked, about 12 minutes. Rotate the baking sheet halfway through cooking. When the crinkles are ready, the edges will look done but the interior of the cracks will appear underdone. Let them cool completely on the baking sheet. They can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 5 days.

  OATMEAL MILK BATH

  This recipe welcomes substitutions. Colloidal oatmeal—finely ground to the point where it will suspend in water—is approved by the FDA as a beneficial ingredient to treat skin ailments, but you can also grind quick oats or use baby oatmeal if you’re willing to rinse out the tub after bathing. Full-fat milk powder is included here, but there are other lovely milk powders available online—switch in coconut milk or goat’s milk, for example. Nonfat dry milk from the grocery store will also work in a pinch. Epsom salts contain magnesium, which calms nerves and can help with insomnia, but you can use sea salt or even kosher salt if that’s what’s handy. Also, feel free to play with scent combinations!

  Makes enough for 3 baths

  ½ cup Epsom salt

  ¼ teaspoon lavender essential oil

  ¼ teaspoon basil essential oil

  1 cup colloidal oatmeal

  1 cup full-fat milk powder

  In a large bowl, combine the salt and essential oils. Stir together with a metal whisk until the oils are evenly dispersed in the salt. Add the oatmeal and milk powder and stir again with the whisk until thoroughly combined. Store in a glass jar with a tight lid.

  If you love Bailey Cattrell’s Enchanted Garden Mystery series, read on for a sample of the first book in Bailey Cates’s New York Times bestselling Magical Bakery Mystery series!

  BROWNIES AND BROOMSTICKS

  is available from Berkley Prime Crime wherever books are sold.

  THIS was a grand adventure, I told myself. The ideal situation at the ideal time. It was also one of the scariest things I’d ever done.

  So when I rounded the corner to find my aunt and uncle’s baby blue Thunderbird convertible snugged up to the curb in front of my new home, I was both surprised and relieved.

  Aunt Lucy knelt beside the porch steps, trowel in hand, patting the soil around a plant. She looked up and waved a gloved hand when I pulled into the driveway of the compact brick house, which had once been the carriage house of a larger home. I opened the door and stepped into the humid April heat.

  “Katie’s here—right on time!” Lucy called over her shoulder and hurried across the lawn to throw her arms around me. The aroma of patchouli drifted from her hair as I returned her hug.

  “How did you know I’d get in today?” I leaned my tush against the hood of my Volkswagen Beetle, then pushed away when the hot metal seared my skin through my denim shorts. “I wasn’t planning to leave Akron until tomorrow.”

  I’d decided to leave early so I’d have a couple of extra days to acclimate. Savannah, Georgia, was about as different from Ohio as you could get. During my brief visits I’d fallen in love with the elaborate beauty of the city, the excesses of her past—and present—and the food. Everything from high-end cuisine to traditional Low Country dishes.

  “Oh, honey, of course you’d start early,” Lucy said. “We knew you’d want to get here as soon as possible. Let’s get you inside the house and pour something cool into you. We brought supper over, too—crab cakes, barbecued beans with rice, and some nice peppery coleslaw.”

  I sighed in anticipation. Did I mention the food?

  Her luxurious mop of gray-streaked blond hair swung over her shoulder as she turned toward the house. “How was the drive?”

  “Long.” I inhaled the warm air. “But pleasant enough. The Bug was a real trouper, pulling that little trailer all that way. I had plenty of time to think.” Especially as I drove through the miles and miles of South Carolina marshland. That was when the enormity of my decisions during the past two months had really begun to weigh on me.

  She whirled around to examine my face. “Well, you don’t look any the worse for wear, so you must have been thinking happy thoughts.”

  “Mostly,” I said and left it at that.

  My mother’s sister exuded good cheer, always on the lookout for a silver lining and the best in others. A bit of a hippie, Lucy had slid seamlessly into the New Age movement twenty years before. Only a few lines augmented the corners of her blue eyes. Her brown hemp skirt and light cotton blouse hung gracefully on her short but very slim frame. She was a laid-back natural beauty rather than a Southern belle. Then again, Aunt Lucy had grown up in Dayton.

  “Come on in here, you two,” Uncle Ben called from the shadows of the front porch.

  A magnolia tree shaded that corner of the house, and copper-colored azaleas marched along the iron railing in a riot of blooms. A dozen iridescent dragonflies glided through air that smelled heavy and green. Lucy smiled when one of them zoomed over and landed on my wrist. I lifted my hand, admiring the shiny blue-green wings, and it launched
back into the air to join its friends.

  I waved to my uncle. “Let me grab a few things.”

  Reaching into the backseat, I retrieved my sleeping bag and oversize tote. When I stepped back and pushed the door shut with my foot, I saw a little black dog gazing up at me from the pavement.

  “Well, hello,” I said. “Where did you come from?”

  He grinned a doggy grin and wagged his tail.

  “You’d better get on home now.”

  More grinning. More wagging.

  “He looks like some kind of terrier. I don’t see a collar,” I said to Lucy. “But he seems well cared for. Must live close by.”

  She looked down at the little dog and cocked her head. “I wonder.”

  And then, as if he had heard a whistle, he ran off. Lucy shrugged and moved toward the house.

  By the steps, I paused to examine the rosemary topiary Lucy had been planting when I arrived. The resinous herb had been trained into the shape of a star. “Very pretty. I might move it around to the herb garden I’m planning in back.”

  “Oh, no, dear. I’m sure you’ll want to leave it right where it is. A rosemary plant by the front door is . . . traditional.”

  I frowned. Maybe it was a Southern thing.

  Lucy breezed by me and into the house. On the porch, my uncle’s smiling brown eyes lit up behind rimless glasses. He grabbed me for a quick hug. His soft ginger beard, grown since he’d retired from his job as Savannah’s fire chief, tickled my neck.

  He took the sleeping bag from me and gestured me inside. “Looks like you’re planning on a poor night’s sleep.”

  Shrugging, I crossed the threshold. “It’ll have to do until I get a bed.” Explaining that I typically slept only one hour a night would only make me sound like a freak of nature.

  I’d given away everything I owned except for clothes, my favorite cooking gear, and a few things of sentimental value. So now I had a beautiful little house with next to no furniture in it—only the two matching armoires I’d scored at an estate sale. But that was part of this grand undertaking. The future felt clean and hopeful. A life waiting to be built again from the ground up.