“I could have told you that.”
“Tell me what you know, then.”
He smiled as she rubbed one foot against the other. She was barefoot, her toenails painted. “Peter loved me.” In his own odd way, she thought. “Almost too much.”
“Was he abusive?”
“Did he hit me? No. And no man would and live.” Her eyes flew wide. “Oops, I guess that was the wrong thing to say to a cop, huh?”
Nash smirked. “Just be honest with me.”
“Are you implying I haven’t been honest so far?”
“You haven’t. Tell me what you fought about that night.”
“I told you, it’s private.”
“It could be relevant to the case.”
“It’s not.”
“Let me be the judge,” he said softly.
“I thought you just gathered facts.”
He gave a long-suffering sigh and rubbed his mouth. “That conversation is evidence.”
“It’s hearsay, so inadmissible.” She set her mug down.
“That’s your lawyer talking.”
“Hey, she’s right, you know. And she’s good.”
“If she’s so good, how come you didn’t divorce Peter till now when you left him nearly three years ago?”
“Lawyers get money for their services, and I couldn’t afford to pay her. I told you this before, dammit.” She pushed off the sofa, grabbed a cookie and bit into it as she paced restlessly before the cold hearth.
“Yet you could afford this house and business?”
She stopped and glared. “Yes, that’s right. I was busy working two jobs and scraping together money for all this.” She waved at the house and gardens. “Peter wasn’t willing to give me a divorce, so if I wanted one right then and there, I’d have had to take him to court and fight him. I couldn’t afford that. Not all of us were born with silver spoons in our mouths, a trust fund and a three-hundred-year-old pedigree, you know.”
She popped the rest of the cookie into her mouth and chewed with a vengeance.
His features sharpened with anger, but she didn’t care. “A place of my own and a means to survive were more important than a document that cut Peter officially out of my life.” Lisa didn’t think the final divorce would have made a difference to Peter. The night he’d died, he’d still thought there was a chance to win her back.
“Now you have two million dollars to do what you want with.”
“I didn’t want his money.” If she did, she would have taken more than the clothes on her back with her when she left him.
Nash scoffed. “Are you telling me you’ll turn it down?”
Her hands on her hips, she gave him a sour look. “Gee, Couviyon, as I don’t think that’s possible, no. But I didn’t kill him for it. I didn’t know it existed. God, I can’t believe you are digging at me over this.” She rubbed her temple. “It’s only money, and while I thought money made a big difference four years ago, I don’t now.”
While he’d grown up with every privilege, she’d struggled day by day to get her degree. “Is that why you left me?” The differences in their backgrounds were like night and day, he realized.
Her shoulders stiffened. “I didn’t leave, Nash. I was right here all the time. I broke up with you because we were going nowhere and I wanted more. End of story.”
“No, it’s not.” He set the mug down and stood, moving around the furniture toward her. Something inside him gave when she took a step back with that “doe in the headlights” look. He stopped. “You just walked away.”
“Like hell I did.” She’d stayed longer than she should have, long enough to get pregnant. “You don’t recall the conversations that mentioned marriage and kids because you ignored them, tuned me out, tuned out what I wanted. Then like an idiot, I made the mistake of telling you I loved you.”
Something yanked at his heart. “That wasn’t a mistake.”
“It was because you thought it meant I’d take crumbs till you were ready to give me more.”
“Crumbs? Jeez, you act like I used you.”
Her brow shot up in a smooth, angry arch. “You tell me, Nash. When did you ever in that year take me to Indigo Run? Introduce me to your brothers? Or even say to the other officers that I was your girl.”
Her eyes bloomed with unshed tears, and Nash felt the depth of her hurt down to his heels.
His features tightened. “Lisa, I know we didn’t see eye to eye toward the end and—”
“That’s the truth,” she interrupted, not in the mood to rehash this. “Don’t feel the sudden need to make it up to me, either.” She moved to the door, opening it. When he just stared at her, she said, “I think you need to leave.” Before I do something stupid. Something I’ll regret.
Sighing with resignation, he gripped his notebook and moved to the door. She was always asking him to leave her life, he thought. He should’ve gotten the message by now.
“I don’t think we should discuss our past anymore. Not till this investigation is over,” she said, meeting his gaze head-on. He stood near, his aftershave lingering enough to tease her, his body radiating warmth she wanted so badly to feel again. And those eyes. Wicked blue and looking at her with a mix of sadness and want. She couldn’t take it. Not when her heart continued to respond to him.
“We’re linked by more than Winfield’s death, Lisa. And not talking about us every time we see each other…well, do you really think that’s possible now?”
“I’ll give it the old college try.”
“Well, I won’t. But you should think about telling me what you and Winfield fought over that night. Because if this goes to trial, you’ll have to tell it to the world.”
She wouldn’t. There was only so much more humiliation she could stand. “Good night, Detective.”
He crossed the threshold and turned back to face her. “One more thing. Peter definitely died from a toxin.”
“What kind?”
He flipped open his notebook. “Convallaria majalis.”
Her eyes widened. “Lily of the valley?” she whispered, and the color drained from her face.
“You grow them, don’t you?”
Her color returned with a vengeance. “Yes, and so does half the town.”
“But half the town didn’t make them into a tea for a bath.”
“Neither did I, Detective. The killer did.”
“You’re certain the basket wasn’t in the room when you visited Peter?”
“Yes, I’m certain. It wasn’t there. I would have noticed it. And Peter would have made a big point about it, too. To him it would have been like my putting my wedding rings back on.”
Nash nodded, said good-night and was still frowning as he walked down the steps toward his truck. If the basket wasn’t in the suite after eight-thirty when Lisa was in the room, and yet had been delivered at six, where had it been between those times?
THE NEXT MORNING, Lisa thought Nash was like a bad penny, turning up when she least expected it. Now he was in the shop, questioning Kate Holling. The younger woman was flirting with him, she could tell. She decided to ignore them. At least she tried. But she was in the garden just outside the open door of the shop, and like a homing device, she was tuned to Nash’s frequency.
On her knees in the nursery, she was digging a hole with a hand trowel when she heard Kate ask him, “Did I hear right that you and my boss used to have a thing going?”
“We’re friends,” Nash replied. “Miss Holling, where were you on the fifteenth?”
“I was here most of the day till about six. Then I went home and showered and changed to go out.”
“Did you go out and what time did you leave your apartment?”
“Yes, I went to Masquerades at about seven-thirty.”
Masquerades was a flashy, loud nightclub and always filled with the college crowd. Kate Holling was past college age.
“Till when?”
“About midnight. Need the names of some people who saw me?�
��
“Yes, I do.”
There was silence for a few moments while Kate must have been jotting down a few names and phone numbers for Nash. Then Lisa heard her say, “It was pretty crowded, since there isn’t much else to do in this town besides walk the waterfront, have ice cream and eat shrimp.”
Lisa shifted farther away from the door, out of ear-shot. She’d heard enough.
NASH COULD THINK of a hundred things to do in this town, but kept his mouth shut. Kate Holling was built and blond, with bright blue eyes that he suspected were that shade with the help of colored contacts. Her makeup was trendy, and though she wore an Enchanted Garden T-shirt and shorts, her hair loose, there was a hardness about her he couldn’t put his finger on. While they’d talked, she fussed at the items close to the register or straightened plants that didn’t need straightening. Nervous habit?
His gaze moved to outside, where Lisa was gardening. “Thanks, Miss Holling.”
“Any time, Detective,” she said, then spied something else to tidy and was off.
Nash walked down the side steps and into the fenced area of the garden. Lisa glanced up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand. “She cleared?”
“Unless her story doesn’t pan out, yes. Chris is cleared already. He was in Ollie’s while his girlfriend waited tables. The manager verified it and didn’t seem too pleased the kid hung around the restaurant all night.” Nash surveyed Lisa’s nursery, watching customers stroll the stone paths.
“I bet he had to keep eating to keep that spot, though,” she said. “Ollie’s does a great business on the weekends.”
Nash didn’t know why, but her garden made him smile. Land spread out around her house on the west side like a skirt, and instead of rows of plants, Lisa had sunk the pots into the ground in wild assortments, which gave the appearance that they’d been there all along. Shade plants sat under two spreading oak trees dripping with Spanish moss; flowers bloomed in the bright sunlight. A small fountain with glass and copper fairies gave music to the quiet. Enchanted Garden for sure.
“What about you? How’s this going?” He gestured to the land.
“You think that I needed money enough to kill Peter?”
His gaze snapped to hers. “I’ve seen people die for a few dollars in their pocket. Greed is a great motivator and money changes people.” Especially two million dollars, he thought. “But I asked because I care about you.”
She scoffed and stood, shaking the dirt off her gloves and bending to collect her tools. She tossed them into a small wagon and pulled it along to another spot.
“Lisa, I do care.”
Never enough, she thought. “Look,” she said, pausing from unloading plants to fill the bare spots. “You care that I’m in trouble now, but Nash—” she struggled to keep the hurt out of her voice and wished she could let old feelings go “—I’ve been here for months.”
“I know.” Man, this was hard. Ignoring her these past months was protecting himself, and it told him he’d done exactly what she’d claimed. He’d only let her in so far. He’d let her into his memory once in a while, but seeing her again, being this close, was a whole new ball game. He wasn’t sure either of them should step up to the plate.
“I can’t trust you, Nash.”
He looked offended.
“I could say something casual and it could be held against me in a court, if it ever comes to that. I’d never know if I was talking to the cop or my old lover.”
Nash stepped close and looked down at her. “I’m both, and you know that.”
“Hence, the no-trust thing.”
“Jeez, can you cut me some slack? You’re the one who dumped me, you know.”
“So I’m supposed to feel bad and confess all to the detective?”
“Yes. No.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I got over it a while ago.” Liar.
That stung, because she never did get over him. Standing this close, she knew it for sure. “Good. Seeing anyone in particular?”
He frowned. “No.”
“Still shying away from commitment, huh?”
His gaze narrowed. “Still a smart mouth?”
She tipped her head and smiled. “Yes, I am.”
Nash smiled. “Okay, cop talking here for a second.”
She stiffened.
“I have a witness who said a basket from your shop arrived at 6:00 p.m. the day of the murder.”
“Not possible. I only have one basket left, and it’s in the storage room in the greenhouse.” She gestured and started walking in that direction. “And I had no orders going out, so whoever told you that is lying.”
“They aren’t.”
“Who delivered it? Mercury?”
“They’re looking through files.”
“Someone could have ordered it from me weeks or months ago and waited till now to send it, Nash.”
“I’ve considered that.”
“Come on.” Dropping her tools on the ground, she walked to the greenhouse and went inside.
Nash felt instantly choked by the sweltering air and damp mist. Apparently unaffected, Lisa walked briskly to the rear and had to yank hard to open a second door. The release of the seal made items shake on the shelves. The small storage room housed stacks of black plastic pots, plant fertilizer and other supplies. There was one basket wrapped in plastic on a shelf.
“See, and here’s the invoice.” She grabbed the clipboard anchored to the shelf and handed it to him.
Nash scanned it, then flipped up pages to read beneath. According to this, she’d had only four baskets ordered in the past two months, and each one was signed out and dated. He nodded and handed it back to her.
She replaced the clipboard and moved to the door, walking back outside. Though it was over eighty outside, it was a relief from the humid confines of the greenhouse.
“I take it you haven’t learned who the sender was, huh?”
“I have an officer on it.”
“So what were you hoping? To trip me up or something?”
Man, that hurt, he thought. “No, Lisa, I was hoping for the truth.”
She plucked her gloves from her apron and walked toward the wagon she’d left behind. “Think about it, Nash. If I were going to commit a crime, would I use anything that came from here?” She knelt and started digging. “How stupid would that be?”
“Very.”
“But you still think I’m that dumb.”
“No.” However, making it blatantly obvious that they couldn’t believe she was completely inept had occurred to more than one officer. Make everything point to her, and be neat and tidy, yet lack one facet— the killer instinct to take a life. Lisa didn’t have it. He’d stake his reputation on it. Neat and tidy made cops more suspicious.
“Well, then, let’s be up-front. I grow lily of the valley.” She stood and walked several steps to the left and pointed at the ground. The little, white, bell-shaped flowers were in bloom. “I buy it from Cal Preston out near the highway, and I grow it in my backyard. It’s often used for wedding bouquets or as a ground cover, and the last person I sold some to was your brother.”
“Temple?”
“Yes, landscapers, gardeners, we’re the same breed. So now you have more suspects. Mrs. Grady on Scott Street bought some the other day, too.”
“Okay, I get the picture.”
“Now there’s a smart cop.”
A phone sounded from somewhere in Lisa’s apron. She scrambled in the pockets to find it, then hit talk on the cordless phone. “Enchanted Garden, how can I help you?”
As she listened, Nash watched her expression wither.
“No comment.” She disconnected and stuffed the phone back in her pocket.
“The press?”
“Yes. The first call, but I expected it.” She knelt to deadhead some flowers.
“Let me know if it gets bad. I’ll ask a judge to put a gag order on it.” Though this murder wasn’t controversial, Nash had some friends in the ri
ght places.
She looked up at him, smiling genuinely for the first time since they’d met again. “Thanks, I think.”
Her skepticism felt like a thorn under his skin, and Nash knelt to her level, needing to make something right in the mess of their past. Gazing into her wary eyes, he said softly, “Don’t think, Lisa, know. I won’t let you go to jail for a crime you didn’t commit.”
Her gaze searched his and desperation weakened her. “No, I suppose I always knew you wouldn’t. I didn’t do it, Nash.”
“Then help me, baby,” he said in a low tone she remembered too well. “What did you argue about with Peter?”
Her skin flushed and she held his gaze, refusing to speak.
He sighed and dropped his head forward. His fingers closed into a tight fist. “Okay.” He pounded his thigh for a second.
“How about I take a lie-detector test?”
“Not admissible in court.”
“But will it clear the suspicion I see in your eyes?”
Nash placed a hand on her bare arm. His fingertips worried her skin for a second. “It’s just questions, you see, not suspicion. You have to trust me.”
Lisa was still, the warmth of his hand on her tempting to iceberg inside her. It would be so easy to give her heart over to him. But she’d done that once before and still had the scars. She looked down at the Aztec grass, then grabbed it and popped it out of the container, effectively pulling from his touch.
“I trusted you once, Couviyon, and all you said was that you didn’t want us to get so serious.”
Nash’s features twisted with guilt. God, he had said that. What a fool.
“My freedom might be on the line, but I’m not risking my heart for you again.” She met his gaze, her resolve crystallizing. “So please be the detective I know you are and find out who killed Peter.”
JUST TO COVER all the bases, Nash paid a visit to the lily-of-the-valley grower, Cal Preston. The old man had skin like scorched parchment and wore dirty jeans and a sweat-stained T-shirt, yet Nash knew the Preston family had a lineage like the Couviyons. Fair Briar Plantation was as majestic as Indigo Run, the plantations flanking the town like sentinels.
Under His Protection Page 6
