by Morgana Best
I clicked on it and to my surprise she had dreadful privacy settings. I was able to scroll through her friends. After I’d scrolled through a few, and she had hundreds, I realised I could search by name. I typed in Bradley Wilson’s name and lo and behold, there he was. I stared at his photo in disbelief. Why did she lie to us? Could she be the murderer, or did she have another reason for lying?
I clicked on his photo. His privacy settings were tighter than Maeve’s, but it did give his place of work, a plant nursery just out of town. I reached for my phone intending to call Ruprecht, when I smelt something burning.
“I can smell something burning, but I haven’t done any baking today,” I said to Hawthorn and Willow. They both hissed. I looked down and saw smoke rather than steam emanating from my onesie. I quickly tried to take it off, but the zipper was so hot it burnt my fingers. I screeched, and quick as a flash, grabbed a cushion and hit the battery pack so hard it stopped smoking.
Cold panic overwhelmed me. I was stuck inside a burning onesie and there was no way to get it off. Wait a minute—I was a powerful witch, so I could do a spell to get it off. I didn’t have any candles. The candles were in the other room and I had no time to waste. I shut my eyes and focused as hard as I could. “Get it off me!” I yelled.
I ran outside to the garden hose, but then thought water and electricity don’t exactly go well together. I paused in the very act of turning on the tap.
My skin was getting hotter and I knew I had to get the onesie off me.
I focused my intention. “Clothes—get off me now!” I yelled.
Instantly, the onesie vanished. “Thank goodness,” I said. I inspected the spot on my waist where the battery pack had been, and while I wasn’t burnt, my skin was rather pink. I scooped up some water on my palms and applied it to my skin.
I noticed the aloe vera plants growing in the garden. I knew aloe vera was good for burns. I bent down, broke off a section, and applied it to my skin. The relief was instant.
“Good morning, dear.”
I looked up to see the neighbours from the far end of the street. An elderly couple, they were close to one hundred years old, and always enjoyed their morning walk together.
“Good morning,” I said. I wondered why they were doing their best not to laugh.
“It seems the honeymoon is going well,” the lady said with a chuckle.
I realised they didn’t know Alder was in jail. “Yes,” I simply said.
It was then I realised I was stark naked.
Chapter 20
I drove to my shop as fast as I could—after I had put clothes on, of course. I deposited the partly burnt onesie at Camino’s feet. She had to finish serving a customer before responding. “What happened?”
“It caught on fire,” I said through gritted teeth.
Ruprecht and Thyme hurried over. “Are you all right?” they said in unison.
“I’m fine physically, but not mentally. It was dreadful.”
“What happened?” Thyme asked me.
“I suddenly smelt smoke, and considering I hadn’t been doing any baking, I soon realised it was the onesie. I couldn’t get the zipper undone because it was too hot, so I had to do a spell to make the onesie vanish.”
Ruprecht nodded his approval. “That was good of you to think of that in a crisis.”
I waved my finger at Camino. “Not quite so clever of me, I can assure you. I made all my clothes disappear, not just the onesie.”
Camino did not look the least rebuked. “A good thing you were in the privacy of your own home,” she said.
“Actually, I wasn’t,” I told her. “I was in the front garden, and those people who like to walk in the morning saw me.”
I looked up at them expecting sympathy, but they were all doubled over with laughter. Even Ruprecht was speechless. I scowled at them.
“Did you find out anything about Bradley Wilson, Maeve’s boyfriend?” Camino asked me.
I continued to glare at her, but when I got no response, I said, “Yes, I did as a matter of fact. You were right. He’s on Maeve’s Facebook page, and it even gives his place of work.”
“Where’s that?” Thyme asked.
Before I could answer, Ruprecht said, “But I thought he was in prison?”
I shrugged. “Well, maybe his listed place of work is where he was before he went into prison.”
“What’s the name of it?” Ruprecht asked me.
“Garden of Weedon,” I said with a chuckle. “It’s a plant nursery just out of town.”
“That’s a new plant nursery,” Ruprecht said. “It only opened a few months ago. That means Bradley is, in fact, out of prison.”
“We should go there and check him out,” I said.
“Maeve might not be in touch with him any longer,” Thyme pointed out. “Maybe she never got around to taking him off her Facebook page.”
I shook my head. “I don’t buy that. Everyone takes their ex-boyfriends off their Facebook page.”
Ruprecht rubbed his hands together. “All right then, there’s no time to lose. What should we do next?”
“Let’s go to the plant nursery. We can snoop on him there.”
“Well, what will we see him doing?” Thyme said. “He is going to be advising customers on what plants to buy, or stacking boxes, or watering, pruning, or fertilising plants. He is hardly going to confess to murdering Bertha Bunyons. Do you intend to speak to him?”
I had to admit that I hadn’t given it too much thought.
“Why don’t you pretend to recognise him and ask how Maeve is,” Ruprecht said. “I do find it somewhat of a coincidence that he’s out of jail just before Bertha was murdered.”
“Do we know exactly when he got out of jail?” I asked Ruprecht.
“I’ll call Ridgewell Giggleswick and ask him to find out and let us know.” With that, Ruprecht fished his phone from his pocket and hurried into the back room. A nanosecond later, he stuck his head around the door. “Amelia, I’ll call you as soon as Ridgewell gets back to me with the information. Right now, you, Thyme, and Camino should go to the plant nursery, and Mint and I will hold the fort. It’s been a slow day and the lunch rush is over.”
“I have just the onesies for this,” Camino said with glee. “A bottlebrush, a banksia, and a wild fuchsia.”
I held up one hand in front of her. “There is absolutely no way I am going to wear another of your onesies,” I said firmly. “Why, the last one nearly killed me!”
Camino was nonchalant. “No, that’s fine. These onesies don’t have anything mechanical or any battery packs. They are simply normal onesies.”
“We can go in our simply normal street clothes,” I said. “It is perfectly usual for people to go shopping at plant nurseries. Why, we can even buy a plant. There will be nothing to tip him off. Even if he is the murderer, he won’t suspect us in the slightest.”
“What if Maeve is there?” Camino said.
“Why would that matter?” I asked her. “Maeve lied to us about seeing Bradley. She’ll avoid us if she sees us.”
Camino jabbed a finger in my direction. “Precisely! We don’t want to scare off Maeve if she happens to go and visit Bradley. That’s why we need to go in disguise.”
“I tend to agree with Camino,” Thyme said.
I rounded on her. “You do?” Before she could answer, I added, “You weren’t caught in a burning eucalyptus diffuser onesie! It was nearly the death of me!”
Thyme simply giggled.
Soon we were all at Camino’s, wearing onesies. I thought it was the most ridiculous thing ever, but I was outnumbered. I was dressed as a wild fuchsia; Camino was dressed as a banksia, and Thyme was dressed as a wattle. Given the fact that the onesies mimicked potted plants, the onesies were bulkier than usual. I remarked on this to Camino, but she simply said that would make them more stable.
“Don’t we all look pretty,” Camino said. “I’m a lovely yellow banksia; Thyme is a lovely yellow wattle, and Amelia pro
vides contrast with her brilliant colours of crimson going into cream. We are all standing in what will appear to the uninformed as rustic copper ceramic planters, yet our feet can pop out the bottom. We are so lifelike!”
“Just as well we’re not roses,” I snapped. “Someone might try to prune us.”
I had to admit, the onesies were scarily lifelike. In fact, they were the most lifelike onesies I had ever seen. “I’m still trying to sell these to the military,” Camino said. “I was working on this when I got distracted by the diffuser onesies.”
“Maybe you should focus more on selling the camouflage plant ones to the military,” I said. “You don’t want to set any more people on fire.”
“Good idea,” Camino said with enthusiasm in her voice. “Oh well, let us all go to the Garden of Weedon.”
The drive out of town was uncomfortable, to say the least. While the day was cold, the suits were stuffy. I pulled a branch from my mouth and inhaled deeply, but a petal caught in my mouth. I spat it out. “What’s our plan of attack?” I asked the others.
“I’ve thought it through,” Camino announced. “We will park as far away from any other cars as possible. Then we will surreptitiously climb from the car and stand perfectly still. We will be on guard for onlookers while slowly edging our way over to Bradley Wilson.”
“I almost forgot,” I told them. “I took a photo of his Facebook profile picture with my phone. I’ll show you when we get there.”
We arrived at the Garden of Weedon to find it wasn’t a big commercial plant nursery. To the contrary, it was small and rather cute. A big clay sign announcing the Garden of Weedon stood amidst little clay statues of brightly coloured Hollywood-type fairies and other fantastical creatures.
Not many people were there, given the lack of cars in the car park, but Camino drove to the far end and parked under a spreading paperbark gum. “I love those trees,” she said.
I leant over the front seat and showed them both a picture of Bradley Wilson on my phone. “He looks like a nice person,” Thyme said.
“That’s what they always say about serial killers,” I said. “Haven’t you ever watched 60 Minutes? They interview the neighbours and all the neighbours say that the serial killer seemed like a really good bloke.”
Thyme simply shrugged. A branch on her shoulder moved, causing little yellow flowers to fall off.
“Now is the time,” Camino said. “Let’s all get out of the car and line up next to each other. We must stay in the same order so as not to arouse suspicion.”
I thought the whole idea ridiculous. Still, I had no option but to go along with it.
It took us what seemed an age to get from the car park to the edge of the nursery. I was glad there wasn’t a fence around the perimeter, because that would have meant we had to enter through the front gate. We took our position next to a group of mature waratahs. “If we stay in the native Australian section, it will cause less suspicion,” Camino said. “Resist the urge to go over to stand near the David Austin roses.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said dryly.
Camino elbowed me hard in my branches. “There he is!”
I looked over to see a clearly bored Bradley watering plants. “I wonder how he got this job straight out of jail?” I whispered to Thyme.
“Maybe he was in jail with the owner’s son or some sort of relative,” she whispered back. “Or maybe it’s a prison initiative.”
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“We edge closer to him, of course,” Camino said.
We all edged forward inch by inch until we came to a row of grevilleas. Bradley was walking aimlessly up and down watering the flowers. Boredom oozed from every pore of his being. There was a plastic container on the end of the hose so I assumed he was fertilising them as well.
He wandered down our way. “Keep still, both of you,” Camino hissed.
I held my breath as Bradley edged ever closer. Surely he would see through our camouflage! What would he do? Hopefully he wouldn’t become violent in a public place, but I didn’t see any other staff members around. Had we gone too far this time? I fought the urge to take deep gulps of air.
He was only a metre away now, still watering the plants. He looked in my direction. Cold sweat dripped down my spine.
All of a sudden, a shower of foul tasting water hit me in my face. I was being watered! Bradley gave me a thorough drenching with the hose and then moved on to Thyme and Camino. None of us said a word. He moved on down the aisle, heading for the teatrees.
“Oh that’s wonderful. He actually thought we were real plants!” Camino said. “I can report that in my military application.”
I did not trust myself to speak. I saw Thyme was shaking, and I figured it was with anger. “I hope that wasn’t pesticide,” I said. “We’re all going to die!”
Thyme hurried to reassure me. “No, it was seaweed fertiliser. I can taste it.”
“I want to go home and have a nice warm shower,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Me too,” Thyme said in such a deep voice I thought she was growling.
“Look, Maeve’s here!” Camino exclaimed. “Let’s sneak over to her.”
Camino shuffled over in the direction of Maeve and Bradley. “What should we do?” I asked Thyme.
“I’m gonna kill Camino!” Thyme said, followed by, “I suppose we’ll have to follow her.”
We ever so slowly edged after Camino. Luckily for us, Maeve and Bradley were engaged in conversation. Our way was barred by trays of daffodils. I was unable to hear what they were saying, but Maeve did not appear angry with him. She did not appear affectionate with him either.
“Can you hear what she’s saying?” Camino said.
“No. They’re too far away. And Camino, please don’t go any closer because they will see we’re not plants.”
“Nonsense,” Camino said. “Oh shush, here comes a staff member.”
Thyme and I froze. A tall man in a Garden of Weedon uniform led a young couple towards Camino. “That’s the exact colour banksia I want,” the woman said. “How much is it?”
The man ran his hand through Camino’s branches. “I can’t see the price. It must have fallen off. And it isn’t marked on the pot, either. How does eighty bucks sound? It’s a big one.”
“I didn’t want to pay that much, but it is a big one. All right, I’ll buy it.”
I peered through my dripping wet branches.
“I’ll just go and get a trolley because it’s too big and heavy to lift,” the staff member said.
“How dare you!” Camino said through the banksia flowers. “I’ll have you know I’ve been on a diet!”
They both looked around. “What was that?” the woman said.
The staff member shrugged. “It must be someone’s novelty ringtone. Maybe someone’s lost their phone around here somewhere.”
The man grabbed a nearby trolley, and with a lot of grunting lifted Camino into it and wheeled her away.
“How will she get out of this one?” Thyme whispered to me as we carefully edged our way back to Camino’s car.
I spat a wild fuchsia from my mouth. “I couldn’t care less, to be honest.”
Chapter 21
I was huddled in front of the fireplace with a soft furry blanket over my shoulders. Willow and Hawthorn were jostling for position in front of the fire. People think of Australia as sunny all year round, but Australia is the same size as mainland USA and so we have a variety of temperatures here. I was living in one of the coldest parts of Australia. In Bayberry Creek, over a thousand metres above sea level, the temperature dropped well below freezing in winter. The winter days were often mild and sunny, but the same could not be said about the nights.
“It’s not that cold, Amelia,” Camino said. “I was doused with fertiliser too, and I’m okay.”
“I’m sure your leaves were shaken out when you were sold,” I said with a chuckle.
“It’s not funny,” Camino said. “What if
I’d been arrested?”
“What for? Impersonating a banksia plant?” I clutched my blanket to me and laughed hard. My laughter was no doubt tinged with hysteria.
Ruprecht hurried over to make the peace. “I’m just off the phone to Ridgewell Giggleswick,” he proclaimed. “He has news.”
I stood up, dislodging the blanket which nearly fell into the fire. I snatched it to safety. “Is Alder all right?” I screeched.
“Of course, of course.” Ruprecht’s tone was soothing. “Alder gave Ridgewell some interesting information.”
“Interesting good or interesting bad?” I asked him.
Ruprecht shrugged. “I suppose it depends which way you’re looking at it.”
Camino, who was back in her rabbit onesie, stood up. “Out with it, man!”
“You’d be arrested if you were in Queensland,” I said, despite my curiosity to find out Alder’s news.
Camino’s nose twitched. “What do you mean?”
“It’s illegal to have a pet rabbit in Queensland,” I said. “Don’t ever wear that onesie in Queensland, or they’ll do more than arrest you.”
“Alder helped the police arrest Yarrow Larkspur,” Ruprecht hurried to say.
“But I thought Yarrow was all sweetness and light?” Thyme said.
Ruprecht sighed. No doubt he thought we were a hard lot to put up with. “That was in the days when he was known as ‘Bear,’” Ruprecht said.
I sat back down and wrapped the blanket around me. “Aha! So Alder did have a hand in one of Yarrow’s criminal convictions. What was it for?”
“Ice trafficking,” Ruprecht said.
I gasped. “Ice is such a dangerous drug. It makes people have terrible mood swings and outbursts of rage. What if Yarrow is still using it? That could explain it. Perhaps he had an uncharacteristic burst of rage and murdered Bertha.”
