The Accidental Florist jj-16

by Jill Churchill

  She had to have two bags because one would have spilled its guts out the bottom before she could haul it to the car. The real treasure she found was a government study of the most popular names for boys and girls through the whole last century. It listed the thirty most popular for each year. A plethora of names. Unfortunately, most of them for decades were Mary and John. But there were some really good ones that cropped up occasionally. Carmina, Drew, Mick, Serena, and for a spell after the last version of the movie about the Titanic came out, there were lots and lots of first place Jacks and Roses.

  Early Tuesday morning Jane was awoken by the sound of her fence coming down. She'd forgotten to buy kitty litter and bins to see if they still remembered what they were for. She made a quick run to a pet store and discovered there was now a wonderful thing called "self-clumping kitty litter." Everything, including liquid, turned into a ball. You bought scoops with grooves through them, and lots of plastic bags. She was also told to get a box of baking soda and a fine sieve. Stir a tiny bit in every time you cleaned out the clumps and they wouldn't smell bad — to the cats or the person cleaning up. The pet store manager suggested that she should buy two low-sided bins. Most cats didn't want to use each other's bins.

  When she returned home, she found a good-sized

  plastic container in an upper cabinet that would do for a generous water bowl. There was lots of noise outside and the cats had taken refuge in the basement, just as they always did during lightning storms.

  Todd and Shelley's boy John were already outside loving the noise and lots of strong men with power tools.

  Jane made earplugs out of wadded-up tissues, and took her embarrassingly big bags of books outside to arrange them on the patio table in the shade of the umbrella. She laid them all out and started looking them over, one by one. There were very noisy digging machines carrying away a huge amount of soil and putting it into equally noisy trucks that took the dirt away. At the end of the day, there was an enormous hole in the backyard. At least four feet deep.

  The next day, she was out early to see what was going on next and found that work had stopped and there was a calico cat with two kittens looking down into the hole. The mother was meowing loudly and there was a sound of mewing coming out of the hole. A workman got in the hole and after a bit of a chase, lifted the little orange kitten out.

  The mother immediately started almost brutally washing the kitten, one paw holding it down. When the orange kitten was clean, she walked serenely out of the area of missing fence at the north end of the yard, three kittens running to catch up with her. Jane was smiling when the man who had rescued the kitten approached her.

  "We need to go into your basement to drill through for hot water, cold water, and hook up to the sewer line."

  "I'll have to get my own cats locked up or you'll be stepping on them. They're very curious."

  "That's fine. My workers need to get their tools out of the truck."

  Jane hauled the kitty litter bins, a bowl of water, and cat food up to her bathroom, then went back down to fetch Max and Meow.

  By the time she returned there were horrible drilling noises coming from the basement again, and she went out to look down the hole.

  There were four men in it now, one was helping thread the pipes through from the basement, and the others were building restraining walls to keep the concrete from flowing over the yard, she assumed. But the hole would take tons and tons of concrete. Wouldn't it be so heavy that the entire addition would gradually sink into the hole?

  The general contractor had arrived and was watching the workmen. She approached him and asked him about her fears of the whole thing sinking. He laughed and said, "It won't be filled with concrete. It will be mostly gravel with a vapor barrier over it."

  As he was explaining, a pipe appeared coming through the foundation closest to the far wall of the hole. "Which one is that?" Jane asked.

  "Hot water," he said as somebody else in the hole was connecting a black pipe with a curve at the bottom and

  coming up very high. "It has to be higher than usual and all of them will be capped off higher than necessary."

  "Why are they coming out from the dining room foundation?"

  "Because you don't want anything that holds water on an outside wall or it could freeze and burst."

  Jane almost said "Duh" but John Beckman was used to people who hadn't added a room before asking silly questions.

  By the time all the pipes were installed and capped off, she went to free the cats. When she got back downstairs, there were four men with heavily loaded bags of gravel in wheelbarrows. They were all sweating like pigs.

  Others were building walls with big boards around the perimeter of the hole.

  Jane was again sitting at the patio table under the umbrella. Todd and Shelley's son were also watching every step. Now and then, Jane would look up and see how the boards that would prevent the concrete from running all over the place were coming along. The workers were fast and efficient. They drove steel spikes into the ground every few feet to, presumably, keep the weight of the concrete from pushing the boards out of alignment.

  By noon one and a half sections of wood were already in, and watching all the leveling, it looked as if it was going to be a good flat area to pour the concrete (or was the proper word cement?) nice and flat. She'd have to ask about the right word.

  She went inside to make sandwiches for Todd andJohn and checked the kitty litter. One or the other of the cats had availed itself of one of the bins. Cats always seemed to her to have very short memories. But apparently they had some sort of early memory of kitty litter from kittenhood. She tried out the sieve. It worked like a charm. She scattered a half teaspoon of baking soda over the area of the bin that had been used and with the fine sieve mixed it in. Then she put the plastic bag with the solid lump into the trash bin behind the garage.

  From now on, this could be a job for Todd. In fact, as old as the cats were, they might as well turn back into indoor cats, as they had been when they were kittens. On the other hand, climbing that fence kept them from clawing sofas and chairs. Maybe she'd just check the kitty litter after rainstorms when all this work was done.

  She came upstairs, washed her hands, and went back outside to fondle her stash of new books.

  By late Thursday, the wooden barrier was in place. The gravel was all in the hole with vapor barrier over it, and by Friday the concrete truck arrived. It backed halfway over her front lawn and a long sturdy hose was attached to the back and snaked around to the far corner of the wooden enclosure. With a horrific groan, the truck started to pump out thick gray stuff while a whole new crew of workers shoveled and troweled as more and more arrived. From the far corner to the corner closest, the house was complete in a mere few hours.

  Jane had pictured a fleet of wheelbarrows carrying loads and loads of it and dropping nasty glops onto the

  grass in her front yard. Times had certainly changed since she and Steve had watched the basement floor going in the big hole.

  She called Mel and said, "Come over after work and see the beginning of your office. It's gorgeous. So smooth. And so quick to be poured through a big tube."

  "I have some paperwork that I have to turn in by five-thirty. Why don't you call in an order for pick-up at our favorite Chinese restaurant at quarter of six and I'll get it on the way over?"

  "Sounds good. What do you want?"

  "The same thing I always get."

  This meant spicy Mongolian beef with shrimp fried rice.Chapter

  D,

  NINE

  J

  ane had slept late on Tuesday. When Shelley phoned her, she almost fell out of bed trying to find out who was calling. "Jane, you were asleep, weren't you?" Shelley accused. "As a matter of fact, I was. I had a bad dream about

  something I don't remember and couldn't get back to sleep

  for hours. Must have been something I ate last night." "You've forgotten we have an appointment this

 
; morning?"

  "I guess I have."

  "It's our next safety meeting. It's at ten. It's nine-thirty now. Want me to go without you?"

  "I think you better. I'll come along as soon as I can." Jane dressed hastily, tried to get her hair under control,

  slapped on makeup, and yelled at Todd that she was leaving for a meeting.

  She had trouble finding her car keys, but located them under a chair in the kitchen and set out. She wasn't going to drive fast. She wished, in fact, that she'd just begged off, making up a stomach upset or head-banging migraine.

  As she came around the last turn looking for a parking space, the street was full of emergency equipment. An ambulance, a fire truck, several police cars. She managed an illegal U-turn and parked around the corner.

  Shelley must have seen her do it. She met Jane at the corner. "I'm sorry I made you come. I'm more sorry that I came."

  "What's happened here? It looks as if everybody is going in and out of the meeting place for the class."

  "A woman at the community meeting place is dead. Another woman in the class came in early and discovered that the door to the meeting was slightly open. She found her in the meeting room."

  A few other members of the class were standing around or sitting on the front steps. Two police officers, one in uniform and Mel VanDyne, were questioning the woman. She was sitting with her feet in the gutter across the street, sobbing.

  "Is that the woman called Doris?" Jane asked.

  "I think that was her name, but I didn't take notes." Jane realized that Mel had noticed them. He turned

  away from the sobbing woman and made a slight shooing gesture.

  Neither of them wanted to look like bloodthirsty snoops, as did most of the other people looking from windows and doors along the street, so Jane and Shelley were quick to go back to their cars.

  "You parked illegally," Shelley said.

  "I did?"

  "See that yellow ticket on your windshield? You didn't put money in the parking meter."

  "Rats,"Jane said. "Don't tell Mel. Or our sons."

  They went home. Jane wrote a check for the parking ticket and put it out with the mail. She took several of her books she'd recently bought outside with a bunch of sticky notes to mark pages she thought might have interesting material. There wasn't anything going on with the room addition today. The concrete was setting up and it would be next week before anything else could be done.

  "Until we have a firm base, we can't proceed. By Monday we'll be back," the contractor said.

  Jane had taken her cell phone outside again. It was a mild day under the umbrella and she liked sitting in the shade. If Mel had anything he could tell her about what had happened that morning at the Women's Safety meeting place, he could reach her. Apparently something awful had been done to someone. There was no way to even guess who it was. She hoped it wasn't Miss Welbourne. She wasn't really fond of the woman, but Miss Welbourne

  was doing a good, knowledgeable service for a lot of women. It had already been enlightening for Jane and Shelley. The stuff about protecting your belongings in a purse was good advice. Looking brave and alert if you found yourself in a scary neighborhood was also advice that she'd remember.

  As she expected, Mel didn't contact her. She and Shelley decided to watch the local news at five and see if something was mentioned.

  But Shelley caught a newscast at noon and came over to tell Jane what she'd heard.

  "They just said that a freelance teacher had been murdered overnight on that block. The police weren't yet giving out the name or circumstances nor anything about the murder weapon or suspects."

  "It does sound as if it might have been Miss Welbourne, doesn't it?" Jane asked.

  "Unless there is another teacher in an adjoining classroom who was the victim," Shelley suggested.

  "I suppose that's possible. But I didn't see any bulletin board notes about other classes being held there today. Did you?"

  "I didn't really pay attention," Shelley admitted. "And there is no way the police are going to let us in the building to look."

  "And it's really not any of our business," Jane added, but she was as curious as Shelley was.

  "What are all those sticky notes bristling from that pile of books for?" Shelley asked, sitting down on a patio chair.

  "Just things that might be useful to plot my next book."

  "Can't you take a little time off?"

  "I could. But I don't want to. I sent in the second one the other day."

  "You didn't mention that to me." Shelley sounded a bit irritated.

  "You knew I was almost done. I didn't think you needed to know where and when I mailed it in." Shelley grinned. "You're right. I'm not your mother."

  Mel called Jane late in the afternoon. "I was glad to see that you and Shelley took my gesture to go back home so well."

  "What happened and to whom?" Jane asked.

  "Miss Welbourne was murdered."

  "When?"

  "We don't know yet. In fact we know very little so far. I just wanted you to know. I have to go now. If I learn anything else I'll let you know."

  It was late the next day when Mel got back to Jane. "Sorry for the delay. Your uncle Jim was in charge of the case against the man who killed his wife, who was a member of that class. It was easy to get him. Then Miss Welbourne was murdered as well and Jim handed it off to me."

  "That's understandable, isn't it?"

  "Of course it was. I'm not complaining. Jim's perp was

  in jail and is about the only person who couldn't be the perpetrator. It's impossible for him to have killed Miss Welbourne."

  "So what do you know so far?"

  "Not much. The pathologist said at first that she'd been hit on the front of her head. He's not even sure whether she was alive or dead when it happened. If she'd had a stroke or a heart attack within a moment of the attack it would be hard to know. What is clear is that she didn't get the injury by herself. She wasn't found near anything that she could have struck her head against in a fall. No sign of blood on any piece of furniture. No weapon found nearby, or near the site."

  "Thanks for letting me know. You'll solve it, of course." "Or the pathologist will find more evidence of the cause of death."

  Jane called Shelley and reported what Mel had said.

  "It's a shame that someone who taught women to protect themselves had to die. Was it a natural death?"

  "Mel said they didn't know yet. The pathologist hasn't determined yet if she had a stroke or heart attack before or after someone hit her in the head."

  "So if she could have survived the stroke or heart attack, and someone found her quickly enough, she might have lived. Otherwise it's murder," Shelley said bluntly.

  "I suppose so."

  "I wish we could at least see her notes of what she meantto talk about today. It had to be more interesting than the last session about traveling to foreign countries."

  Jane said, "I'd guess every scrap of paper in the room has been seized, and is unavailable to us. At least for now."

  "Ask Mel about it, would you? Not right now but later."

  "Will do."

  Jane had barely put the phone down when she had a call from her mother-in-law, Thelma.

  "Jane, I'd like to get together with you at some nice restaurant the day after tomorrow to talk about your wedding. I've already picked out a nice place." She gave the name of the restaurant and directions and set a time and told Jane that she'd make the reservation momentarily.

  "And dress well, if you would," Thelma added.

  Jane was tempted to scream, but said calmly, "I always dress nicely to go to good restaurants."

  "I've seen you at nice restaurants wearing blue jeans."

  Jane had to laugh. "Thelma nobody but you calls them `blue' jeans anymore. If I wore jeans, they'd be expensive designer jeans. And by the way, where did you see me in jeans?"

  There was a moment of silence, then Thelma said, "It wasn't really me w
ho saw you. It was a woman from the church who knew you when you were still going to church."

  Another criticism. Two in a row.

  "I've written it down in my date book. I'll meet you there."

  Jane immediately called Shelley hack.

  "You've finally decided on what you're wearing to the fake wedding?"

  "No. Nothing like that. I just had an unpleasant call from Thelma."

  "Aren't all Thelma's conversations unpleasant?"

  "Yes, but this one has me worried. She's up to something that's sure to be really nasty. Let's go to a restaurant for lunch," Jane suggested.

  They'd made sure to sit far away from the other diners so they wouldn't be overheard. Jane repeated what Thelma said.

  "Dress well!" Shelley exclaimed. Then she sat back a bit from the table, thinking. "I don't buy the story about the church lady seeing you."

  "Neither do I."

  "A private detective?"

  "Exactly what I guessed,"Jane said. "But why?" "Just general snooping?"

  "Thelma doesn't spend money out of sheer curiosity."

  "Trying to find out something bad about you?"

  "I assume so. But what good would it do her? I'm not aware of doing anything absurd or illegal in a restaurant or anywhere else in public. What's she hoping to learn about my private life?" Jane mused.

  "I guess you'll have to show up to find out. Jane, she's up to no good, that's for sure. By the way, you need to make a decision soon about what you are wearing for the fake wedding. Have you invited Thelma to either or both?"