Cornflowers and Corpses

by London Lovett

  A loud groan of disappointment swallowed the stage area. The dull roar of frustration drew curious people from the rest of the auditorium toward the stage. Everyone wanted to find out what was going on.

  I leaned over to Ivy. "Do you know Nora well? Maybe she could use some help right now," I suggested gently. "Before she passes out."

  Ivy nodded. It seemed she was just about to get up when Mason, the arrogant looking man watching from the wings, spoke up. "No you don't, Nora." He strolled purposefully across to poor, trembling Nora. "You've been boasting about this photo for months, and we have a right to see it." His long arm reached past her. He grabbed the remote before she could stop him. (Not that she could, considering their difference in size and the fact that she looked ready to crumble into a million pieces.) His big thumb pressed the remote and the slide switched over to a beautiful scenic landscape sized photo of a hawk soaring over the tops of pine trees. Its belly was covered with pale blue-gray downy feathers and white fluff under its square tail. There were a few gasps in the audience. Ivy sat forward with interest but looked more puzzled than impressed.

  Elsie leaned closer. "Looks like a regular old hawk to me."

  "I don't think we have the expertise to tell the difference," I reminded her. "Just like many of the people in this audience would call a tart a small pie or a peony a fluffy carnation." I cut short my further analogies to watch the drama up front.

  Mason had climbed up on stage to get closer to the screen. He stood in front of it, his back to us and hands on hips. Even the tautness of his shoulders exuded arrogance.

  The audience had been lulled into a state of silent astonishment. No one seemed to know what was going on, especially those of us not involved with the West Coast Bird Watching Society. Nora was staring down at the ground. Her shoulders shook as if she was crying.

  A cruel laugh bounced off the screen. Mason spun around and another even meaner laugh followed. He pointed up at the image behind him. "Does it look familiar?" he asked the audience.

  "Yeah, it looks like every hawk I've ever seen," Elsie mumbled.

  A low murmur began through the audience, and someone finally shouted what others were muttering. "That photo was taken fifty years ago by the great Alan Isop. That's Isop's Goshawk. It's just been enhanced."

  More angry mumbles turned to shouting. "Nora, how could you deceive us like this?" someone asked.

  Nora lifted her face. "I'm sorry. I did spot a Goshawk and I snapped a picture, but my camera broke before I could download it. I had a photo. I promise I had one. I had a change of heart. I knew it wasn't right. That's why I stopped the slideshow." She was in tears, but her face grew red with anger as she finally found the nerve to turn around and face the evil Mason, who was wearing the smirkiest smirk I'd ever seen.

  She pointed a trembling finger at him. "You of all people have no right to cast stones. We all know that you won an award for someone else's photo. I hate you. Everyone hates you. Someday, I will laugh and spit on your grave!"

  "And to think I was reluctant to attend this entertaining event," Elsie said. She could speak freely now due to the noise in the audience and the entire auditorium, for that matter. Most of the exchange had been picked up by the microphone on the projector cart. Onlookers were gathering to watch the horrible spectacle.

  Two women up front mercifully got up and turned off the projector. One of the women took the microphone and announced that the presentation was over and that everyone should head over to the food area because all the vendors were offering twenty-five percent off for the rest of the night. That nice sale on all the goodies prompted people out of their chairs and toward the food area. Mason, apparently satisfied that he'd done all the humiliating damage he could possibly do for one evening, strode off the stage and off to wherever mean people went after they'd inflicted pain. The same two women who had turned off the projector and made the announcement walked Nora away from the stage area, consoling her with pats on the back and soft words.

  Elsie stood up and stretched. "Well, that's probably enough of birds for the evening. What do you say we fly back home."

  "I'm with you. Lots of ruffled feathers in this place."

  Chapter 10

  The bizarre late afternoon at the bird event, thankfully, rolled into a lovely, quiet evening with my favorite detective and his adorable sidekick. I patted Bear's soft head as the dog curled up next to me on the sofa. He was far too big so his rear end and front end hung over the edge, but he was quite content to stay there. Briggs carried two bowls of rocky road ice cream out of his kitchen.

  He rolled his eyes at his giant dog's attempt to imitate a cat curled on the couch. "I'm going to have to get a bigger couch." He handed me the bowl of ice cream.

  "That's quite a change from your first proclamation after adding Bear to the family that he was not going to be allowed on furniture." I picked up the spoon and took a bite of the chocolaty treat.

  "As you might recall, I tried that, but when he started teething and chewing the edges of the furniture that I was trying so hard to protect, I decided hairs on the cushions were better than three legged tables and armless couches." Briggs sat on the other side of me.

  "As someone who has many a hairy couch cushion, I agree. Just don't wear black. That's a rule to live by when you have hairy furniture. On second thought, ignore that. I am particularly fond of you in black t-shirts. Gives you a sort of bad boy aura."

  He laughed over a mouthful of rocky road. "That's what I strive for, after all. Aside from the strange afternoon at the bird convention, how did the rest of the work day go with the new assistant?"

  We both settled into the cushions with our bowls of ice cream.

  "Let's just say things didn't get better as far as her relationship with Kingston. She took the initiative to send him outside . . . with a broom."

  Briggs sat forward and looked at me. "So you fired her?"

  I took a deep breath. "No and I feel sort of traitorous to my bird, but he was fine. He went over to console himself with bakery crumbs. She didn't touch him with the broom. She just used it to shoo him outside. I told her that I was the only person who could let him outside. She seemed to understand that I was upset. But I need her. I've got three weddings this month. I can't do the arrangements alone. Am I a terrible bird mom?" I'd had plenty of guilt lumps in my stomach since the afternoon. If I wasn't in such desperate need of a floral assistant, I would have sent Barbara on her way.

  Briggs rested back. "No, you're not a bad bird mom. In fact, some might say you're just a little too doting of a mom. You spoil that crow. Like you said, he was fine and you need Barbara's help. It does make me wonder whether or not I want a new partner. I'm definitely overwhelmed with the amount of work I have, but a new partner might just be more work and more trouble."

  "It would be nice if you had help," I said. "They stretch you way too thin."

  "True. There's been a lull in big cases for the past month. I have to admit it's been great catching up on paperwork. Maybe we'll get lucky and float through the whole summer without any murders or big crimes."

  I turned my face and stared at him.

  He nodded. "Yes, you're right. I should never have said that out loud." He leaned forward and rapped his knuckles on the coffee table. "Speaking of murders—" he continued after he leaned back. "What did Marty have for you?"

  "Oh wow, it's been such an eventful day, I nearly forgot all about my wonderful lunch with Marty. We were, of course, given the star treatment with a mountain of crispy fries and that nice table that doesn't get too much sun or too much noise from the kitchen. It's Marty's regular table. I wouldn't be surprised if Franki saw Marty coming across the parking lot and yanked customers off the table so that she could give it to Marty. It was ready for us when we walked inside."

  Briggs laughed. "Marty definitely has a fan club in this town."

  "I'm certainly part of that club. I brought the photo he gave me." I stood from the couch, disturbing Bear from his
nap. He decided it was time to get off the couch and stretch, particularly if I was heading to the kitchen and near his treat jar. He poured his large, fuzzy body languidly off the couch and dropped right down into a doggie stretch with his massive paws out front and his rear high in the air. I circled around Bear with the two empty ice cream bowls. I carried them to the kitchen sink, grabbed a treat from the jar and stopped by my purse for the photo of Jane Price.

  "Remember that I found those love letters to Teddy from Button in Bertram's trunk?" I reminded Briggs as I tossed the cookie to Bear and sat back down on the couch.

  "Yes, the ones with the lavender. You thought they might have been from someone other than Mrs. Bertram, someone like Jane Price."

  "Exactly and now I no longer have to theorize. I have proof." I handed him the photo. "This is Jane Price, but the interesting part is on the back." I continued as Briggs turned the yellowed photo over. "Marty isn't sure why his mom had the photo in her collection, but clearly, Jane had meant to give it someone she referred to as Teddy."

  "To Teddy from Button," Briggs read. He smiled at me. "Good detective work, Miss Pinkerton."

  "Thank you, although this one sort of landed in my lap. Right over the plate of crispy fries. But there's more. I put some puzzle pieces together. I have no doubt that Bertram fathered Jane's baby. Remember that monthly withdrawal of seventy-three dollars from Bertram's account after Jane left town? The withdrawal that had no notation with it?"

  "Yes, that's right. So Bertram was paying for Jane's room and board and possibly even medical care. I suppose seventy-three dollars would have gone a long way back then."

  "I'd say so, and back then women didn't have much access to manly things such as account ledgers. I'm sure Jill Hawksworth had no idea family funds were being diverted to a pregnant mistress. Or maybe she knew and just kept quiet so as to keep the scandal from being blown about town. Either way, it's all very intriguing. I can't wait to find out more."

  Briggs put his arm around my shoulder and drew me closer. "It seems to me you're getting close to the truth. I must admit, I can't wait either. It will certainly stir things up in this town if it turns out there was a lot more to the tragedy than a despondent patriarch deciding to take out his entire family before turning the gun on himself. If it's true that Bertram Hawksworth was a victim and not the culprit, then it's only fair that, after all this time, his name is cleared."

  "I agree." That thought took me back to the feelings of trepidation that reared their pointy heads every time I considered how some of my more prominent theories might pan out. Mayor Price already disliked me in every possible way and for every possible reason. I could only imagine how his negative feelings would grow tenfold if I implicated his great-grandfather in the terrible murders. But my intuition was telling me, and strongly, that Mayor Harvard Price had some hand or knew some details about the crime.

  Briggs sensed that I'd been drawn into one of my worrisome thoughts. He squeezed me again. "Everything all right?"

  "Yes, everything is fine. I was just visualizing Mayor Price's red face and flaring nostrils when I uncover a horrible secret about his great-grandfather."

  "So you still think there's a connection between the Hawksworth murders and Harvard Price?"

  I sighed deeply. "Yep and this time I don't even need Samantha's help." I tapped my powerful nose. "This time I'm going to find the killer without one out of place smell or one handsome detective."

  Chapter 11

  Barbara was early. She waited outside the flower shop with Amelia. They spoke to each other briefly as Kingston and I walked toward the shop door. They didn't seem to be striking up any kind of a friendship, which was not too surprising. Amelia seemed somewhat traumatized by the whole broom incident. It made me like her even more. Barbara, on the other hand, did not score any points by scowling disapprovingly at Kingston as we neared.

  It was a beautiful morning, and I quickly decided it might be in everyone's best interest, crow included, if I sent Kingston off for a little jaunt around town. He was only too happy to oblige and hardly needed one word from me before trotting down the sidewalk and lifting off to perch in one of his favorite trees. It was a flowering plum tree that gave him a perfectly unobstructed view of Lola's Antiques. Not that he had any interest in Victorian sideboards or Chippendale mirrors. On second thought, my vain bird did love a good mirror, but his keen interest in my friend's shop had to do with its owner.

  Amelia knew all about Kinston's crush. She spun back around after watching Kingston find his morning tree perch. "I'll bet he's waiting for Lola to get to her shop. That poor guy has it bad," she said with a head shake.

  Barbara had no comment to add. She held her purse in one hand and a lunch bag in the other. I could only imagine how neatly her lunch was arranged inside the canvas tote, pickles in their own little container and orange slices already peeled and ready to consume.

  "I'm looking forward to putting together the white orchid, orange rose bouquets," Barbara said as I unlocked the door. "I love working with orchids."

  And that, I thought to myself, was why I needed her. I found orchids to be too delicate and stubborn. The door opened and I waved my two assistants inside. Before I took my own step into the shop, a car screeched to a halt in front of Les's coffee. I glanced back and saw a very angry Nora Banks climbing out of a small, blue sedan. She was pointing at a person who was apparently sitting at Les's outdoor tables. I couldn't see the table area without stepping out onto the sidewalk.

  "You, you jerk," Nora spat. "I hope you get attacked by a thousand crows just like the Hitchcock movie." She tripped and stumbled forward in her rage, but she managed to catch herself. A harsh, cruel laugh rolled out from the table area. I recognized it instantly, and suddenly, Nora's anger made sense.

  Not deterred by Mason's callous response, Nora marched toward him on hiking boots. She was still waving her finger at him and telling him all the ways she'd like to see him suffer. Although none as colorful as the Hitchcock movie idea. Had she gotten the idea from the big black bird glowering down at the her from his flowering plum branch? It seemed likely.

  I handed my purse inside. "Amelia, could you put this in the office? I think Les might need my help next door. I'll be right there."

  I closed the shop door and circled around to the table area. As I expected, Les had come out to see what the commotion was about. Nora was still in a rant, waving her arms and letting Mason know that he was the worst person in the world. Naturally, he just sat there with a smug smile, which even I felt like wiping off his face.

  Les was offering Nora a free coffee if she came inside. He saw me and mouthed the word 'help'.

  "Hello, Nora, I don't know if you remember me. I own the flower shop next door." I spoke calmly hoping she could hear me somewhere in her rage filled haze.

  "This man is a monster. Someone needs to do something about him." Her tone was less sharp, but her face was still red.

  "You caused your own problems," Mason sneered before taking a sip of his coffee. "She got caught up in her own scam," he explained. Neither of them had any idea that I was in the audience the night before and that I had witnessed the entire debacle. He shrugged. "All I did was expose her for being a fraud."

  "You're the fraud," Nora screamed just as a couple arrived at the coffee shop. They looked concerned and turned around, apparently deciding to get their morning coffee elsewhere. Les looked pleadingly at me.

  Mason certainly wasn't helping. He sat there and nonchalantly sipped his coffee as if he didn't have a care in the world.

  "Les, why don't you bring one of your special summer hibiscus teas over to the shop for Nora."

  Nora heard her name and glanced at Les and me as if noticing us for the first time. She had been so consumed by anger, she seemed almost puzzled to see us.

  "Nora," I said politely, "let's go next door. You can sit and relax and have one of Les's fabulous iced teas."

  She hesitated but only for a second. "Actuall
y, that's a good idea. I need to get away from this viper and cool down." She cast Mason a scowl that could curl toes. He continued sipping coffee.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as I led her away from the Coffee Hutch and over to Pink's Flowers. Naturally, Amelia and Barbara were slightly astonished that I was leading someone into the store, and particularly a person who was clearly distressed.

  "Barbara, if you want to go ahead and get started with the bouquets, I'll join you in just a few minutes. Amelia, if you don't mind, could you walk over to Les's and pick up the hibiscus tea he's preparing for Miss Banks."

  Nora's face shot my direction. "How do you know my name?"

  I nodded toward my assistants, and they headed off to their tasks.

  "Why don't you sit first." I pointed out one of the stools at the work island.

  Nora sat on a stool and glanced over at Kingston's empty perch. "Your crow? Did he fly away?"

  "No, he's just out for some morning exercise. He'll be back soon."

  A look of disapproval crossed her face. "Are you sure he wouldn't be happier being free?"

  I had to bite my tongue, considering the woman had gone through a humiliating ordeal the night before. Her subsequent anger filled attack on a fellow club member was probably only going to add to her humiliation.

  "I'm sure," I said curtly to assure her that Kingston was not going to be discussed. I decided to redirect her away from my life and back to hers. "You asked why I knew your last name," I reminded her. "I was at the bird convention last night."

  An unexpected smile appeared. "That's right. I talked you into attending." The smile vanished as it dawned on her what that meant in terms of me knowing all about her slideshow fiasco.

  Amelia returned almost instantly with the dark pink glass of tea. Nora gladly accepted the drink and took a few refreshing sips. "This is just what I needed. Thank you so much. I suppose you saw the entire, horrid nightmare last night."