Cornflowers and Corpses

by London Lovett

  "I did. I'm sorry that it happened. But maybe it's best if you just stay clear of Mason. He seems rather—"

  "Cruel? Arrogant? Unlikable? He's all those things plus dishonest. No one likes him. He has one friend, John Jacobs, but John is friends with everyone. He's the opposite of Mason."

  "Why is Mason allowed to stay a member?" I asked.

  "He's a big contributor. Frankly, I think it's because people are afraid of him. He's mean and vindictive. He likes to humiliate people, so members try and stay on his good side."

  I shook my head. "Sounds like a typical schoolyard bully. Well, I hope you're feeling better now."

  Nora finished another long sip and breathed a sigh. "Yes, this cold drink helps, and if I'm honest about it, I feel better after yelling at him. Not even sure of the things I said, but it was therapeutic. Even if he just sat smugly through it all."

  I smiled. "There was a mention of crows attacking him like in a Hitchcock movie, which I thought was rather creative."

  Nora laughed. "I think I spotted a crow in a tree, and that put the idea in my head. I suddenly visualized Mason running from a murder of crows as they swooped at him, pecking at his head and face." She pulled her mouth tight. "I'm not usually that ghoulish, but Mason brings out the worst in people, including me."

  Barbara rolled out the cart with all the flowers we needed for the bouquets.

  "Those are beautiful," Nora said. "It must be wonderful working around flowers all day." She slipped down off the stool. "I'll let you get to work. I can see you're very busy."

  "Wait," I said. "I'll peek around the corner and make sure Mason is gone."

  "Would you? That's so kind. I know seeing him would just stir me up again."

  "No problem." I headed outside and glanced around. No sign of Mason or my bird. I walked back inside. "Coast is clear."

  Nora hurried past. "Thanks again."

  "Have a great day."

  Chapter 12

  I sensed by the way Lola's short black boots thudded the shop floor that she was upset about something. She climbed onto a stool like a sloth, with slow, heavy movements. With Lola, a dour mood could mean anything from an aggravating call with her mother to a sandwich with a flavorless tomato. What I didn't know was that the reason for her sour mood was going to be equally upsetting for me.

  Barbara had taken her brown bag lunch to the town square, and Amelia was entering purchase orders on my computer. There were no customers, so Lola and I had the shop to ourselves.

  "Why so glum?" I asked. "Did they forget the pickle at the sandwich shop?"

  "If only my woes had to do with trivial things like pickles. Nope, this is truly bad news, and you better brace yourself too. Ryder and I were chatting on Skype, and he dropped a bomb."

  I sucked in and held a breath to wait for the bomb.

  "He's staying an extra three weeks. He won't be home until August." With that proclamation, she dropped her forehead onto the island.

  I released the breath. I was feeling some of her pain since that meant another three weeks with Barbara as my floral assistant. The otherwise productive morning had been marred by Barbara fussing and fidgeting with every one of my bouquets and with the return of Kingston from his morning adventure. Barbara kept eyeing him suspiciously as if she feared he might swoop over and attack her. It seemed the Hitchcock movie was on everyone's minds today.

  "We've survived this long," I said. "We can make it a little longer. How is he doing? Is he well? Is he enjoying himself?"

  Lola sat up and shrugged. "Not sure. I sort of shut down mentally after he told me the devastating news."

  "Ryder staying an extra three weeks could hardly be categorized as devastating." I began picking up the floral and ribbon remnants of our morning bouquet creation.

  "Easy for you to say—your boyfriend will be in town all summer. Ryder and I are missing out on beach picnics, bike rides and watching summer sunsets."

  "OK, first of all, you aren't big on any of those common romantic activities. When was the last time you took a bike ride?"

  Her shoulders slumped wrinkling the Pink Floyd logo on the front of her t-shirt. "Well, if I did want to take one with my boyfriend, that would be impossible because he's a gazillion miles away in some hot, sticky forest with bugs and probably some statuesque, curvy woman scientist who wears thick rimmed black glasses that make her look smart as well as sexy."

  "Now you're just being silly."

  Lola looked around at the empty shop front. "Where's the new floral arranger? Hope she's good because your usual arranger is probably going to run off with his smart and sexy team member to live in some exotic location where the flowers grow in the garden instead of in glass vases."

  A laugh shot from my mouth. "You do realize that the flowers in our vases actually came from a garden, right? And Ryder will be back soon. He's not running off with anyone."

  Kingston had come back so tired from his morning adventure, it had taken until that time for him to work up the energy to drop down from his perch, march across the floor and fly up to the empty stool next to Lola.

  "Who cares if Ryder does run off with another woman." Lola reached over and rubbed Kingston's head. "I've got my loyal guy right here. You would never desert me for a pretty parrot would ya, King?"

  The door opened and Elsie walked in.

  "Thank goodness." I tilted my head toward Lola. "This one is crazier than usual today."

  "That's it." Lola hopped off the stool. "I'm withdrawing my nomination from the Greatest Best Friend contest. I'm heading back to my shop with the dusty old things and the creepy Victorian garden gnomes my mom just sent from Ireland. I hate when she sends things with eyes. Goodbye." She swept out of the shop without a glance back.

  Elsie raised her brow in question.

  "Ryder's staying an extra three weeks," I said.

  "Oh boy. That means another three weeks of her moping and another three weeks of—" She motioned to the hallway and lifted her brows again.

  I shook my head. "It's just Amelia. Barbara went to lunch."

  "Is she still fixing all your arrangements?" she whispered.

  "She sure is. But enough about my fun. I noticed you arrived empty handed, so you're not looking for a taste tester. What's up?"

  "I need your help. Do you have a lot more to do this afternoon?" She rubbed Kingston's head.

  "Thanks to the very efficient Barbara, my orders are finished. Why do you ask?"

  "Minnie has asked if I could deliver the brownies for the picnic. They're eating lunch in Mayfield Park near the beach. I don't have two assistants," she said as if I was spoiled rotten with help.

  "That's because you choose not to," I reminded her.

  "It's not a choice. It's a matter of keeping my sanity." She switched to a fake, sweet smile. "Do you think you could deliver them for me? There's a free muffin in it for you."

  "I already get muffins free from you, which, of course means I owe you, so yes, I'll deliver your brownies. I'm curious to see what's going on with the bird watchers anyhow. Did Les tell you about his morning?"

  Elsie shook her head, then seemed to recall it. "That's right. I guess I only half listen when Les is talking, but he said something about an angry woman telling a man she wished crows would peck out his eyes."

  I chuckled. "Yes, well that does sound like a Les version. I don't know if she was quite so graphic in her threat, but needless to say, it was quite the scene. But the part that will interest you is that the woman was Nora, the woman with the humiliating slideshow, and Mason, the awful guy who exposed her scam was the target of her rage."

  Elsie's eyes rounded. "Oh wow, I can't believe I missed that. Did she give it to him good?"

  "She gave it her best, but it was not a great scene for the coffee shop. Poor Les was anxious to end the drama. He gave her a free tea, and I walked her over here to the flower shop to cool down . . . in every way. I'll deliver those brownies and see how it's going at the picnic. Should be interesting. I'
ll be over as soon as Barbara returns from lunch."

  "Sounds good. I'll get them all packed up."

  "Save a broken one for the delivery girl," I called as she walked out of the shop.

  Chapter 13

  The park in Mayfield was a lush twenty plus acres of forest, complete with crude dirt trails and the occasional large rock or wooden bench to sit on. One side of the park was bordered by a parking lot, restrooms and a dozen picnic tables. The far side of the park ended where the beach, rocks and ocean began. It was a scenic mix of forest and coast.

  Three dozen brownies produced an overwhelming chocolaty scent, particularly for my nose. I was nearly dizzy from the rich cocoa fragrance as I parked the car in the lot. A long white passenger van was parked across three spots. The words West Coast Bird Watching Society were emblazoned across its side in bright blue letters. A large banner with the club name billowed like a ship's sail as it hung between two trees. There were small clusters of people talking and eating lunch. Andrew, the club president, was standing at the head of one of the tables talking to a group of people who were raptly listening to him as they sipped cold sodas. I only scanned the area briefly, but I didn't spot Mason or Nora in the crowd.

  I leaned into the backseat of my car and pulled out the massive box of brownies. Naturally, Elsie had frosted them thickly with her famous chocolate butter cream. She had even taken the time to add a delicate yellow frosting flower to each treat. The broken bits she'd given me for the ride to Mayfield were gooey and delicious.

  Andrew glanced up long enough from his talk to spot me heading across the lot with the brownies. He said something to one of the women at the table, and she immediately hopped up and headed my direction. It was Ivy. She was wearing a stylish pair of shorts and dark brown lace up boots that ended just above the ankles. She hurried over with a big smile and was surprised to see me.

  "Oh, it's you again. How interesting that we keep meeting." She reached for the box. "Here, I'll take those. They smell delicious. I wish I could have one."

  I handed her the box. "You're not going to try one of Elsie's brownies? You're going to be missing out on a treat."

  She leaned closer and whispered even though we were still a good distance from the tables. "I don't eat gluten. It bloats me."

  My nose twitched as it sensed something other than chocolate. "Is that pine I'm smelling?" I asked.

  Her mouth dropped open for a second. "How on earth did you smell that? I was sitting in one of those tall pines at the end of the first trail. Sometimes the best camera shots are taken from the branch of a tree." She moved her nose to smell her shoulder. "I didn't realize that I left that tree smelling like Christmas."

  "It's probably not that strong. It's just that I have a really powerful nose." We crossed the gravel lot to the picnic area.

  "By the way," Ivy was whispering again. It seemed our neighboring seats at the slideshow had pushed us into a semi-friendship, one close knit enough for whispering 'by the ways'. "You might notice one of our members is conspicuously absent," she continued in a hushed tone. "Nora decided to go off on her own adventure. She sat for a sandwich and then hurried away. Can't say I blame her. Especially because Mason is at the picnic."

  "No, I can't blame her either."

  Andrew nodded to his little audience and walked over to greet us. "We've been anxious for these brownies. We're all hungry from a long morning of bird watching." He took hold of the box.

  "Did you spot anything interesting?" I asked, only my question was drowned out by someone yelling. It was a frantic, scared sound that sent a group of us running into the woods. Two women, both in club shirts, were standing near a large shrub consoling each other. They looked pale and horrified.

  "Here," was all the first woman could say as she pointed shakily to something behind the shrub.

  Their looks of horror were enough to keep the others, Andrew included, from checking out the point of interest. Something told me it wasn't just going to be a dead sparrow. I circled around the shrub. Ivy and two of the men followed but hesitantly. I spotted the hiking boots first, then the long pair of legs covered to mid calf in gray socks and mid thigh in cargo shorts, but the rest of the body was hidden beneath glossy green leaves of the sprawling Pacific Wax Myrtle bush. Some of the plant's purple berries had stained the olive green cargo shorts. He was on his back as if just napping under a shrub

  "Good lord," one of the men, an elderly man with a straw hat and binoculars hanging around his neck ushered in a shocked tone. "That's Mason. I believe that's Mason Fanning. I saw him in those shorts this morning."

  "Is he dead?" Ivy asked. Her question sounded almost too enthusiastic considering the content and context. She also, noticeably, appeared far less shocked than the others. Even the club president stood back with the others, seemingly petrified to come forward.

  My intuition and short experience in medical school told me I was looking at the lower half of a dead body, but I was no expert. I hoped my intuition was wrong as I tread carefully next to his limp hand and parted the fragrant waxy leaves. It was indeed Mason Fanning. A massive stain of blood covered the left side of his chest. It was easy to spot the source of the blood, a large gash. Without closer inspection, I could only guess that it was caused by a knife or a bullet shot at close range. His face was tilted toward me. The grayish tint of his skin and slightly open stare of his eyes assured me he was dead. But I was in no position to say so.

  I looked back at the club members, all waiting anxiously to hear what I had to say. "Please call the police and tell them we need an ambulance."

  "So he's still alive?" Andrew asked, shakily from the other side of the bush. "Thank goodness," he said.

  It wasn't my place to break the bad news or give any official word on Mason's condition, and I had no gloves on hand to take his pulse. I was certain I wouldn't find one.

  The man with the straw hat took off his binoculars and handed them to Ivy. "Let's pull him out from the bush." He reached for Mason's ankles.

  "Wait." I put up my hand.

  I didn't want the crime scene compromised, but now I had to go along with the ruse that poor Mason was still alive. Naturally, the first thing one would do was pull him free from the shrub. I needed to come up with a good reason to leave him shoved beneath the bush. Everyone stared at me with wide eyes waiting for me to continue. An idea popped into my head.

  "There is some bleeding." I hoped the word some would make it all sound less alarming, but there was a good round of gasps anyhow. "I'm worried that if we move him it will hasten the blood flow."

  "Yes, and what if he hurt his back," someone in the group said.

  "Exactly," I said briskly. "We don't want to injure him more."

  "The ambulance is on its way," someone yelled.

  I needed to get word to Briggs about the severity of the situation. I pulled my phone out. I knew I wasn't going to be able to talk to him without curious, worried ears tuning in, so I sent off a brief text and tried to make it as clear as possible.

  "I'm at Mayfield Park, near the beach, and there is a body. Pretty sure a dead one, but I didn't want to alarm the bystanders so an ambulance is on its way." I pressed send and hoped he wasn't in a meeting or at the courthouse.

  A text pinged right back. "What is it with you and dead bodies? Be right there."

  I was relieved. I'd also been so distracted, I hadn't noticed that Mr. Straw Hat had taken it upon himself to check on Mason. His rather rotund bottom half was sticking out of the shrub, and the top half had disappeared inside.

  "Please, leave him—" I started, but it was too late.

  His top half emerged, fast enough that the shrub grabbed hold of the straw hat. "I think he's dead!" he yelled. "There's blood everywhere."

  A bundle of screams and gasps and horrified looks followed.

  The man stumbled back, away from the shrub. I lunged forward to keep him from collapsing. His gray eyes clashed with mine. He quickly and astutely understood why I'd kept t
he whole terrible thing on the down low. "You didn't want to upset everyone," he said in a low hoarse voice. "I'm sorry."

  But it was too late. Word spread quickly, faster than the ambulances and police. Soon everyone in Mayfield Park knew there was a dead man in the shrubs.

  Chapter 14

  Mayfield Park's rather obscure location between forest and coastline made it a harder place to reach. Ambulances and police cars would have to travel along a stretch of dirt road followed by a gravel driveway. It delayed their arrival just long enough for me to snoop around before the officials took over.

  Andrew, who had the lofty position of president, was fairly useless during the entire crisis. He stood frozen in a stunned stupor even as some of the others were coming around to the bleak reality.

  Ivy seemed to be holding it together well, almost too well. It seemed she was no fan of Mason's. She was consoling a few of the others as they meandered aimlessly around the crime scene. I worried they would disturb evidence. I rushed over to Ivy.

  "Ivy, the emergency crews will be here soon. We need someone to meet them at the parking lot and lead them to this area. It would be especially helpful if this whole section of trail was cleared and free of hikers. Most of these people look quite stricken. Perhaps a brownie would help."

  Ivy nodded. "Right. I can help with that. I'll clear the area." She hopped right into action and seemed to have the confidence and respect of the others, so they followed her instructions and shuffled warily back toward the picnic benches. Fortunately, the crime scene was out of view of the picnic area.

  I walked back to the victim and knelt down beside him to do a preliminary smell check. After working with a horticulture expert like Ryder, I knew that the shrub Mason's body had fallen in was a fragrant bird favorite. The leaves were occasionally used in place of bay leaves. The shrub was certainly fragrant like bay but not so strong that it masked the other obvious plant smell—pine. Of course, we were surrounded by pine trees and every form of evergreen, but this particular whiff of pine was more concentrated. Like the scent I smelled on Ivy as I met her in the parking lot.