Cornflowers and Corpses

by London Lovett

  A much cheerier Mrs. Shuster walked out with her bright yellow roses. With the shop now clear of customers and Barbara, Amelia dropped right into a long complaint.

  Her head was shaking, and she was still fidgeting with her hair. "I just don't think she should have been so pushy with Mrs. Shuster." She tugged at a curl. Her hair came just to her shoulders. Most days, she curled it lightly, so it bounced playfully around her face. (Unlike my un-light curls that bounced like Tigger from the Hundred Acre Wood.)

  "I agree. I'll talk to her about it, but I think Mrs. Shuster left happy so disaster averted." I squinted at her as she tussled with another strand of hair. "Amelia, is everything all right? I've never seen you fidget with your hair."

  She dropped her arms as if they suddenly weighed fifty pounds. "Am I fidgeting? I didn't realize." Her face dropped and a frown pulled down the corners of her mouth. She released a disconcerted breath as she looked up. "Do you think my hairstyle makes me look too young? Barbara said it reminded her of her twelve-year-old niece. She said I should wear it longer and straighter so I can look my age."

  "She's utterly wrong, Amelia." I could feel heat rising in my face. "You have to ignore her. She has been changing all of my bouquets, making me feel as if I don't know what I'm doing. I started to question my skills, but now I know Barbara is just one of those people who has to control every situation."

  Amelia looked happier. "A control freak. That's what my mom calls my Aunt Gigi. Whenever my mom does the holiday meal, Aunt Gigi comes in and tries to change things. She'll even sneak extra seasoning into my mom's gravy, and it's the best tasting gravy in the world." She breathed in and out. "I feel so much better just talking to you. I was feeling so self-conscious about what she said and then poor Mrs. Shuster came in and Barbara turned her control freakiness on her. As much as Mrs. Shuster begged for yellow roses, Barbara just wasn't going to let her walk out with yellow. I'm so glad you came back in time to give her the flowers she wanted."

  "Me too and Barbara and I will definitely be having a chat about all of this."

  Amelia's face smoothed like marble. "No, please don't bring up the hair thing. I don't want her to think she got to me."

  "You're right. I'll only talk to her about the yellow roses. She's going to have to change her behavior, or she's just not going to work out."

  Amelia set to work cleaning up after Mrs. Shuster's bouquet. "I know how badly you need her. I only wish I had an ounce of talent with flowers."

  "You have other talents that are much more valuable. Thank you for keeping the shop running smoothly. I'm sorry I was out so long. There was an incident when I delivered the brownies."

  She looked up with big brown eyes. "I heard someone died. A friend of mine texted that the coroner's van was at Mayfield Park." She lifted her shoulders coyly. "Was your cute boyfriend at the scene?"

  "He was. I occasionally help out on a case." I tapped my nose. "My super sniffer notices things that the police can't smell."

  Comprehension washed over her. "That makes sense. What a great tool for them to have. A super sniffer. Was it murder?"

  I didn't normally broadcast murders, but she'd been kind enough to watch over the shop and endure Barbara's ridiculous criticism so she deserved to know. "Yes, it seems that way." Bringing the case back up reminded me that Nora Banks had spent some birding time at the lighthouse. It was possible she'd returned. "In fact, since we've slowed down for the day, and since Miss Opinion-ator is out on deliveries, would you mind terribly if I took a quick jaunt down to the beach? I think I might find someone who knew the victim down there. She likes to watch for birds by the lighthouse."

  "Sure thing." Amelia picked up the last few leaves and stems. "Don't worry about a thing. Kingston and I will handle it." She stopped her task for a second. "What should I say if she brings up my hair again? I badly wanted to mention that tight bun she wears. It reminds me of my kindergarten teacher, and she was like a hundred and fifty years old. But then I didn't want to be mean like Barbara."

  "Good for you, Amelia." I walked over and gave her a quick squeeze. "We both have to stay strong. When she's getting to us, we'll just give each other this wink." I demonstrated. "That helps remind us that she can't help it. She just has to control things like your Aunt Gigi. That doesn't mean we have to listen to her advice. We can just humor her and let her think she's in charge."

  Amelia squeezed me back. "Thanks, Lacey. This really helped. I was about to go home and toss out my curling iron." She leaned back and we practiced the wink. "Go on your walk. Good luck finding the person you're looking for."

  "Thanks and text if you need me. I'll just be a ten minute dash away."

  Chapter 19

  A hearty sun had left behind enough heat between the blue sky and the cement sidewalk that each step produced a cradle of warm air around my feet and legs. Daylight was starting to make its slow, glorious descent into late afternoon, and sparkles of light flickered off the choppy edges of water along the coast. The late day off-shore breeze had churned the ocean into its usual uneasy dance of sharp, quick interval waves. A brave sailboat traversed the rough surface as it torpedoed with full fat sails along the coast.

  I picked up my pace and crossed my fingers that some of the fall prone Shearwaters that Nora was hoping for had made their unusual summer debut. I was allowing myself the very real possibility that even if Nora had ventured out to the lighthouse, she would no longer be there. Certainly, word would have reached her that Mason Fanning was dead. It seemed her birding peers would also have informed her about the knife being found. More than once, I considered the possibility that if I did meet up with her, I might be facing a killer, one who knew she was going to be arrested for murder. It wouldn't be the first time I'd found myself in that unfortunate predicament, and it generally earned me a lecture about the dangers of approaching a suspect. And yet, I'd once again found myself in the same situation. I blamed my insatiable appetite for solving a murder. If I could get to a possible suspect before the police that was like frosting on a delicious cupcake. Besides, Nora was petite and not terribly menacing in demeanor or size. How dangerous could she be (especially without her pearl handled knife)?

  I took a short jaunt along the wharf to the steps leading down to the ivory sand. It was late enough that most beachgoers had already packed up their umbrellas and ice chests for the day, but a group of determined teenagers were attempting a game of volleyball. The afternoon breeze was not helping. Aside from a couple walking along the shore and another small group huddled on towels eating hot dogs, the sand was empty. No sign of a bird watcher.

  I shaded my eyes and glanced along the coast to the lighthouse. Nora was sitting on a smooth rock with her knees bent, holding her legs. Her chin was resting on the tops of her knees. She looked more like a little girl waiting for her turn at jump rope than a woman searching for rare birds.

  I hurried off the beach, over the wharf and across to the lighthouse. I followed the narrow hiking path that snaked down to the beach and rocks below the lighthouse.

  The constant roar of the ocean muted my approach. Nora was rightly startled by my sudden appearance a few rocks away. She put her hands down to steady herself and keep from slipping along the smooth rock. Her backpack sat next to her, loaded down with all her birding tools. I sensed instantly from the drawn look on her face that she'd heard the news. I wondered if she was worried this was about to come down around her.

  I approached with caution, but she still pushed abruptly to her feet as if a shark had just climbed up on the rocks to eat her. I put up my hands.

  "Don't worry, I'm just here to make sure you're all right. I saw you from the beach and you looked upset." It was a flimsy excuse, and she wasn't buying it.

  Her drawn face took on more of a puzzled scowl. "I don't understand." She glanced at the beach and then back at me. "How did you see me? How could you tell I was upset? Were you looking for me?" She leaned slightly to the right and looked past me, expectantly.


  "I'm alone," I said and then wondered if that was the smartest thing to admit. Still, even though she was suddenly on edge, I just didn't feel any sense of danger. My adrenaline was always pretty reliable and kicked into action when needed. It was staying out of the mix . . . for now. That realization prompted me to be more honest with Nora.

  I took a couple steps closer, but we were still a few good slabs of rock apart. She didn't back up, so I took it as my opening.

  "Nora, I assume you heard about Mason."

  Again, she looked perplexed. "I don't understand. How did you know that? Aren't you a florist?" There was just enough condescension in her tone to sting but I forged ahead. After all, the woman was probably going to be arrested for murder. I could overlook a little patronization.

  "I was at the club picnic when they discovered Mason's body. I had delivered the brownies Andrew ordered from my friend's bakery."

  The wind had left her cheeks bright red. It seemed she'd been sitting out on the rocks all afternoon. If she had, then she certainly couldn't have killed Mason. Even if she had come back to the rocks to hide, why wouldn't she have left town?

  "Minnie, the club treasurer, texted me the news." Nora looked frail as she crossed her arms around herself. "She just sent me another text that they found my knife near the body." She hugged herself tighter. The color drained from her face. "I think I might throw up." She dropped to her knees on the rocks and leaned over for a few minutes before sitting back on her heels and taking deep swallows of air.

  "Can I get you anything? Some water?" I offered, although it was not exactly convenient considering where we were standing.

  A larger than normal wave smacked the rocks below hard enough to send a cool salty mist our way. It seemed to revive Nora. She pushed to her feet.

  "I have no idea how my knife got there." She waved her hand toward her backpack. "It's usually sheathed right there in the leather pouch on the side of my pack. My father gave it to me and I cherish it." She laughed silently but enough to shake her shoulders. "The only thing I've ever used it for was to cut open a package of beef jerky and to pry open a can of beans when I forgot my can opener. I certainly would never use it to kill anyone." Another laugh. "I would never use anything to kill someone. I was angry with Mason. I probably hated him more than I've ever hated anyone, but I would never kill him."

  Nora leaned over and pulled her phone out of the front pocket on her backpack. "I haven't texted anyone back. I've just been sitting here trying to absorb the information. I always do my best thinking when I'm in nature."

  "I think most of us do our best thinking like that. But you should consider heading into town before rumors get out of hand. You need to tell the police what you just told me."

  Her face jerked my direction. "The police? Are they looking for me? I knew I would be blamed for this. Everyone saw what happened last night." Her eyes grew wider. "You witnessed me this morning threatening Mason. They were just idle threats," she said urgently.

  "I know they were. I'll be sure to let the police know that you calmed down immediately after—if they ask, that is. I'm not even sure it'll come to that. Were you here, on these rocks, all afternoon?"

  "Yes, yes I was here." She held out her red arms. "Apparently, I didn't put on enough sunblock."

  "Normally, I would say that's a big no-no. This time it might help your alibi. What about other people or friends who might have seen you out here? People who can vouch for your whereabouts."

  Nora stared down toward the ocean for a moment, then her shoulders drooped. "I haven't talked to anyone. There were a few kids climbing the rocks at one point, and a couple who came halfway down the trail to take selfies but that's all. I had my phone on silent, something I usually do when I'm watching for birds. I didn't notice Minnie's text for a good hour. The second one about the knife came a half hour later. I wasn't sure what to do. I'm scared they'll blame me."

  "You just need to explain everything to the police. It'll be fine but you should probably do that soon. The longer you stay out here, the more it'll look as if you're hiding something."

  Her face flattened, and the red in her cheeks erased. "I hadn't thought of that. You're right." She leaned over and picked up her backpack for the trek back across the rocks. It was a solidly filled satchel, reminding me of my high school backpack when it was filled with textbooks.

  It took petite Nora a good amount of effort to lift the bag onto her shoulders and then hike across the slippery rocks with the heavy load on her back. It sure would have been a nearly impossible feat for someone Nora's size to drag a large body across the forest floor. I kept that little detail tucked in my brain for another time. For now, Nora needed to go to the police. My intuition told me she was telling the truth, but it was always possible (however unlikely) that, in this particular case, my intuition was wrong. Either way, she needed to talk to Briggs and the sooner the better.

  Chapter 20

  Barbara returned from her delivery errand just seconds after I got back to the shop. Amelia's face soured the moment Barbara walked through the door. Naturally, Barbara went into a long opinion about how deliveries would be easier if she had the right kind of boxes or baskets to put in the backseat of her car. On this point, she was probably more correct than needlessly bossy.

  I had no sooner sat at my computer to finish paperwork for the day when the shop bell rang and Elsie's familiar 'I have treats' hummed down the hallway. The trip to the beach had given me a renewed appetite for one of her goodies. I took a deep whiff before I reached the front of the shop. It was a little game I liked to play where I tried to guess what yummy thing would be waiting for me out front. My nose was telling me something with rum.

  "Ho, ho, ho and a bottle of rum," I chortled as I walked to the front of the shop. Much to Elsie's chagrin, Barbara was already pushing a dark cocoa covered rum ball into her mouth. Fortunately, Elsie had brought more than one. (Otherwise, it might have been grounds for dismissal.)

  "That nose of yours." Elsie shook her head. "These are rum balls I made from that seven layer wedding cake where the groom got cold feet at the rehearsal dinner. Since it was paid for, I tried to get them to take it, but the bride said it was too heartbreaking to look at. So . . ." She waved at the plate full of cocoa coated chocolate balls. "The most expensive rum balls you'll ever taste."

  The rich chocolaty and rum-y smell drew me directly to the plate. I didn't hesitate to push a rich, fudgy bauble between my lips. "Hmm," I said as I waved Amelia over to try one. While Barbara had helped herself, polite Amelia had waited to be invited for a taste. "I haven't had a rum ball in a long time, Elsie. These are perfect. Just the right amount of rum."

  "Although," Barbara piped up as she helped herself to a second one. I held my breath waiting to see if she was actually going to have the nerve to criticize one of Elsie's baked goods. Elsie's nostrils flared in anticipation too. "Some crushed walnuts would help to break up the sweetness."

  I was still holding the breath as I braved a glance toward Elsie. I hardly needed to look her direction. I could already feel the tension rolling off my friend in waves. Elsie rarely deserved any kind of criticism, particularly when it came to her baked goods. In general, about the only thing I could find to criticize Elsie about was the fact that she didn't take criticism well.

  "Well, next time you make rum balls, you can add walnuts," Elsie said sharply.

  Barbara, who apparently after years of offering up advice and criticism had grown numb to sarcasm and harsh retorts, went right on with her unwanted opinion. "Walnuts, in general, are an excellent addition to baked goods. Just this morning, I was enjoying one of your cinnamon croissants, and I kept thinking how much better it would be with some finely chopped walnuts."

  Amelia had scampered off to the potting sink. I wanted to follow her but decided I needed to stick around to clean up the pieces after Elsie's head exploded. Fortunately, clean up was not needed.

  Elsie fluttered an annoyed blink my direction and effectiv
ely turned so she was facing away from Barbara. She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath before spinning on her heels and heading toward the door.

  "Thanks for the treats," I called to her before the door shut. She didn't look back. I'd have to send her a text to apologize. I took my own deep breath and turned to Barbara. She was completely oblivious to how rude she'd been. She really was an odd bird. It seemed it was time for our chat.

  "Barbara," I started.

  She sucked in a loud gasp. "Oh my, I forgot to tell you what I heard when I was out on delivery." It seemed I wasn't going to get my two cents in quite yet. Barbara's perfectly drawn in brows danced up and down. "Apparently, there was a terrible murder in Mayfield. A man was shot dead right in the wilderness area of the park. It was some sort of squabble"—she waved a hand—"Most likely a lover's quarrel. Crimes of passion always lead to someone dying." She spoke with all the confidence and authority of an expert. "It was quite the horror scene, blood everywhere," she added in between short sips of breath. "They've already made the arrest." Since almost everything she claimed was flatly wrong, I didn't startle too much at her last proclamation. It was the only part I was interested in.

  "They've made an arrest?" I asked warily. "Where did you hear that?"

  "Well, I stopped at the gas station on the way out of town, you know the one with the Grab 'N' Go Mart. There was a woman at the next pump. She told me all about the murder and the arrest. The scorned lover, naturally. Some women just don't know how to deal with men." It seemed Barbara was also an expert on relationships, even though I'd garnered from our short chats while arranging flowers that she had no one in particular in her life. Still, it made me wonder whether I'd been wrong about Nora. (Although, she was absolutely not Mason's lover.) But what if she'd walked into the police station and confessed to the whole thing? Or had the knife been enough evidence for an arrest? I was going to have to text Briggs, but first I needed a chat with Barbara. Only that was harder than I expected.