“What kind of gambling?” Eric asked.
“What do you mean?” On the old shows on television, people with gambling problems always “played the ponies” and avoided dark alleys and some bookie named Mick. And there was still quite a bit of horse racing in Virginia, just not right in Ramble.
“Well, there’s online gaming.” Eric began ticking off items on his fingers. “And casinos just over in West Virginia. Then there’s the local sports pools, friendly poker games . . . or not so friendly.”
“Or maybe he was spending money on the mysterious redhead,” Amber Lee said, “and maybe she was obsessed with him or maybe even angry about his upcoming nuptials with Jenny.”
“But Jenny had already called off the wedding,” Liv said.
“But could she have known that?” I added. “And did the mysterious redhead even write the letters?”
“And since we’re playing armchair detective,” Eric said, “I suppose any of the business owners that Derek ripped off might have motive to get him out of the way.”
I bit my lower lip. “How much money are we talking here?”
Eric shrugged. “Maybe not much individually, but old man Rawling owns half the town of Ramble, and Derek managed it.”
Amber Lee snorted.
Liv shot her a sideways look.
“Sorry.” Amber Lee wiped her eye. “I just think it odd that the suspect list now includes the Ramble Chamber of Commerce.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “You know,” I said, with a sobering thought, “even if Derek didn’t misappropriate much, what he took could be a huge burden for a struggling business.” I turned to Liv. “How would you feel if Derek had been our landlord in those early months, when we were first starting to get off the ground?”
Liv sighed. “A few hundred dollars in Derek’s pocket could mean the end of someone’s life’s ambition and labor.” Liv turned to Eric. “Any way you could find out who was hurt most by Derek’s financial finagling?”
A dark shadow fell over Eric’s face. “I can. But I’m a little concerned that this is turning into more than idle conversation.” He placed his hand atop Liv’s. “Promise me you’re not getting involved in this. It could be dangerous.”
“She’s not,” I said. “I am. Someone needs to help Jenny.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Eric said. “I’d hate anything to happen to my favorite cousin.”
I shrugged. “Not likely. For one, I’m no threat to the killer since I seem to be getting nowhere. The suspect list just keeps growing. The more I learn about Derek, it seems half of Ramble had a motive to kill him, including his own family.”
“His family?” Eric asked.
“Here it comes.” Liv thrust her hands over her ears. “I’m sick of this whole stupid blackmail idea.”
I explained to Eric what I’d overheard at the wedding.
“Business dealings that implicate the whole family,” Eric repeated.
“Could be nothing more than idle rumor,” Liv said.
“But Derek is dead,” Amber Lee said. “Liv, I know you don’t like the gossip, but it’s true that someone out there is a killer. Assuming it’s not Jenny.”
“It’s not.” The more I repeated it, however, the less conviction it contained.
“So why not look at the gossip—not as gospel, but as a direction of inquiry?” Amber Lee countered. “Okay, for instance blackmail. That could mean a lot of things, especially if it implicated the whole family.”
“Derek’s gambling,” I said. “Someone could have threatened to reveal that to his father.”
“Or threatened his father with making it public,” Eric said. “Or Derek’s mismanagement, for that matter. It would have hurt Rawling’s business.”
“And his high-profile contacts,” I said. “But what if it wasn’t Derek’s indiscretions that were about to be exposed? What if something implicated another family member? His father. His mother.”
“Audrey,” Liv chided, “the Rawlings have reigned as king and queen of Ramble society for decades.”
“But the bigger they are, the harder they fall,” Amber Lee added. “And neither old man Rawling nor the duchess would have appreciated being knocked off their thrones.”
“Could they have . . . no,” I said.
“Finish the sentence,” Amber Lee coaxed. “I left my secret mind-reading glasses at home.”
“I was about to ask whether Jonathan or Miranda could have killed their own son to avoid a public scandal.”
Liv turned away again in a huff and Amber Lee let out a slow breath.
“You asked,” I said. “I was more than willing to let that thought pass.”
“No,” Amber Lee said. “It’s coldhearted, yes, but when’s the last time you associated warm and fuzzy with the Rawling family? I say, leave it on the table.”
Liv banged her coffee mug on the counter. “Maybe Derek blackmailed his parents, and they killed him so they wouldn’t have to pay.” The look on her face betrayed the intended sarcasm, but the idea took root.
The rest of us shared glances.
Liv thrust a hand on her hip and shook her head. “You’re considering it.”
“If Derek knew of some kind of business impropriety of old man Rawling’s and needed money to pay a gambling debt . . . ,” I said softly.
Liv thrust her arms into her sweater and stormed out the door.
“She’ll calm down,” Eric said. “It’s just that . . . I suppose I should go.”
I waved him off, and he followed after her.
I poured myself a cup of coffee. I guessed finding out who killed Derek wouldn’t be quite as easy as finding the nearest dark alley and looking for shady figures named Mick.
Chapter 16
It was Liv’s day to start late, so I arrived at the shop bright and early at seven. Okay, maybe it was seven twenty. It would have been seven thirty, but I saved a few minutes by scarfing down my partially thawed frozen bagel on the way. I’d finished my long-neglected laundry, but grocery shopping was next on my list.
Larry stood by the back door, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands.
“What are you doing out in the cold?” I turned the key in the lock.
“Bixby took my key,” he said. “That whole business with the knife, I guess.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then sorry I’m late. We’ll get you another.”
He smiled his Kewpie doll smile, set down his coffee on the back of his truck, and opened the hatch. I helped him unload the flowers, including some delectable snapdragons.
“Those are from the new greenhouse,” he said with an air of pride.
“The one you’re renting from Rawling?” I asked. “You know, it’s funny, but I don’t recall anyone else growing flowers around here.”
“They didn’t use it for flowers,” Larry said. “It was used for tobacco transplants.” He smiled. “Flowers is better, though.”
“I’ve heard people say they had problems doing business with Derek.”
Larry shrugged and pulled down the hatch of his truck.
“You didn’t have any problems with him?”
“None worth speaking of now,” he said. “That’s for sure.”
So much for the direct approach. Larry’s reluctance meshed with what I knew about him. I’d never heard him say an ill word about anybody. “It’s just that . . .” At that moment a dry bagel crumb seemed to catch in my throat. I swallowed to dislodge it and, when that didn’t work, cleared my throat while tears started running down my cheeks.
“Oh, Audrey.” Larry came up behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder. “How stupid of me. Of course you want to know more about Derek, and it’s not out of meanness. Your friend . . .”
While his words trailed off, I struggled with the idea of telling him the truth about why t
ears were still streaming down my face. But at the moment, with that crumb catching in the back of my throat, I couldn’t say much of anything.
“Here, let me buy you a cup of coffee and I’ll tell you about the whole business.”
I nodded, then fished a crumpled fast-food napkin from my purse to wipe my streaming face. After locking the shop doors, we walked back to Brew-Ha-Ha at the end of the alley. I cleared my throat the whole way.
The outside air was still just a little too cool and the tables were laden with dew, so we went inside. The aromas of fresh coffee and yeasty breads and cinnamon . . . if I could find a candle with that scent, I’d buy a case of them. No, ten cases. While he went to the counter to place our order, I plucked more napkins from the holder on the table and blew my nose. Then I shoved another wad of napkins into my purse to replace my depleted supply.
Larry handed me my cup, just the way I liked it. Larry had been a frequent guest around the table when Grandma Mae instilled me with a tolerance for coffee. Touching that he remembered.
I took several sips of the hot brew. It did the trick. Bagel dislodged. So great was my relief, I started ogling the fresh bagels in the showcase. Maybe on the way out.
“You okay?” Larry asked.
“Yeah, fine.” I lifted my coffee cup. “Thanks.”
“About Derek. At first I thought he was an okay guy. Kept telling myself that there was no way he could have known.”
“Known what?”
“When I rented the greenhouse from Derek, I made a point of asking if it had heat. He said it did. And I guess there was no lie in that. The heater was a big old propane bugger—and it worked fine when I tested it. So I signed the contract and shelled out first and last months’ rent plus a hefty security deposit. My guys cleaned out a crop of dead tobacco seedlings someone had left behind and refitted it for flowers.”
“He didn’t even clean it out for you?” I asked.
“Said something about how he would do it if I waited a week or two, but I wanted to get started. Fools rush in, you see.”
I patted his hand. “You’re not a fool.”
He stared into his coffee cup for a moment, then took a sip. “I should’ve started small, put in a few dozen plants. But I figured with that big propane heater, it didn’t make sense to heat that whole building if I didn’t fill it up. Wouldn’t pay. So I seeded up and packed the place. For three weeks everything was great. Then I got my first heating bill and nearly went into shock. Propane’s a lot more expensive than the natural gas heaters at the other place. So I started thinking that maybe this was a three-season place. It wouldn’t be too bad if I didn’t run it in the dead of winter. But that was kind of my fault, too, you see. Should’ve asked Derek if I could see the old heating bills.”
“I’m not sure I would have thought of it, either.”
“Then came that cold spell. Remember that?”
“In January.” The month had brought unusually frigid temperatures.
“Some wiring on the heater overloaded, and the whole thing shut down overnight. When we got there, the inside temperature had bottomed out. By the time we rigged up some temporary propane burners, we’d lost half the seedlings. So I called Derek. Took him a couple days to call back, and a couple more to bring in some guy I’d never laid eyes on. They got the heater running again. Derek apologized, and that was the end of it.”
“But you lost half your plants,” I said.
“And spent more money buying those temporary heaters—and all that propane. Not to mention man-hours, since someone needed to stay and adjust them to maintain a proper temperature around the clock for four days.”
“Did Derek offer to replace any—”
Larry wagged his head.
I let out a breath. Just the seedlings alone could have cost him thousands.
Larry shrugged. “The cost of doing business. There’s always a risk. But I thought we were good at that point. I figured Derek couldn’t have known the heater was about to go.” He bit his lip and looked up to the ceiling.
“Uh-oh,” I said.
“Yeah. Two weeks later came that second cold snap. I woke up in the middle of the night with this feeling, you know? Couldn’t shake it. So I drove over to the greenhouse and, sure enough, the dang heater cut out again. Only this time I got the burners going before the temperature dropped too much. Didn’t lose but one or two plants.”
“That’s good, then, right?”
“Well . . .” Larry exhaled through clenched teeth. “Here’s the thing. I knew it would take a while to get Derek to call back, and I kinda wanted another opinion on that heater, so I called in Jimmy Gorden and asked him to take a peek for me. No offense against outsiders, but everybody knows and trusts Jimmy. I was surprised that Derek didn’t use him for his heating repairs.”
“What did Jimmy say when he’d seen it?”
“He didn’t have to see it. He already had. And he’d told Derek months earlier that it needed to be replaced. Every time it runs on full, it melts half the wires. Not only couldn’t it be fixed but, in his opinion, it was a serious fire hazard.”
“And Derek knew this when he rented it to you.”
Larry studied his empty cup while his jaw twitched, ever so slightly.
“That’s fraudulent. You could have sued him.”
“I should’ve walked away. Sometimes you need to cut your losses. Instead, I got the estimate for the new heater—a natural gas variety that was supposed to be a model of fuel efficiency. I told Derek I would pay the initial cost if he would take some off my rent each month until it was paid off.”
“Reasonable.”
“Derek agreed, and again I thought we were golden.” He rose and went to the counter for a refill on his coffee.
Once he’d settled back in his seat, I said, “But that wasn’t the end of the story, was it?”
“Hardly. Everything was fine for a couple months there. New heater worked great and cost me a lot less money to run. Thought I might be able to turn a profit after all. Then a few weeks ago, Derek ups and raises my rent. At first I thought it was a mistake, that he forgot to take the heater payment out. Then he shoved our lease agreement in my face and showed where he could charge an increase in rent based on user-requested capital improvements.” Larry shook his head. “He was charging me more rent for the new heater. Even though I still owned most of it.”
“Oh, my.”
“Audrey, I pride myself on keeping my calm.” And he proved it. His exterior showed nothing but a serious visage. Only his white-knuckled grip on the coffee cup exposed the anger he still felt.
“Oh, my.”
• • •
“Larry?” Liv said. “Audrey, that’s a new low.” Liv tried to force a gerbera daisy into an already full vase and ended up bending the stem.
“I didn’t say I suspected Larry of killing Derek,” I said. “Just that he had motive.”
Amber Lee paused and rested her hands on the top of the broom she had been pushing. “Only . . .”
“Only what?” I asked.
But Amber Lee remained quiet for a while, as if trying to sort out and catalog all the gossip from the past millennia.
“See what you did?” Liv quipped. “You broke her.”
“No,” she said, “I just remembered. Years ago . . . long before your time. Larry was sweet on a girl. It got real serious, too. At least in his mind. Buying-a-ring serious.”
“But he never married,” Liv said.
“He used to hang around Grandma Mae’s a lot,” I said. “When we were kids, we used to think they were going to get married. I guess we didn’t consider that Grandma was a good twenty years older than Larry, and they were just friends.”
Amber Lee smiled. “No, not your grandmother. Before they were friends.” Her smile fell. “For once I almost gave up gossiping. Gossip in R
amble’s not usually that cruel. From what I remember of the story, Larry got dressed in his best suit—well, he only owned one suit—and he dropped on one knee in the town square after the Sunday afternoon band concert. He pulled out a ring and professed his undying love. It was one of those public proposals, like you see at ball parks and such, and you wonder what will happen if the girl doesn’t say yes.”
“And she didn’t say yes,” Liv said.
Amber Lee shook her head. “She didn’t say no at first, either. Just a prim and proper ‘I’ll let you know, Lawrence.’”
“How long did she leave him hanging?” I asked, already feeling sorry for the sweet man who supplied so many of our flowers.
“Not long,” she said. “Her folks announced her engagement less than a week later. Put a full-page spread in the On and announcements in the regional papers. Larry found out like everybody else did. It made him a laughingstock for weeks. I remember them saying, ‘Hey, Larry, I see your girlfriend made the paper.’ And ‘Hey, Larry, what are you going to do with that rock?’ Mean-spirited, if you ask me. But if they were mean to him, they were brutal to her. Said the only way Larry didn’t measure up was in the wallet area. Most folk thought he was better off without her. A few told him that, but that didn’t go over so well, either.”
I took a deep breath. I had to ask, but I had a feeling I already knew the answer. “Who was the girl?”
“Miranda . . . now Miranda Rawling.”
As we continued to work, I struggled to get my head around the idea of sweet, quiet, man-of-the-soil Larry with the queen-of-ice social matron Miranda Rawling. Kind of like Green Acres in real life. Except that on television the couple managed to make it work.
Instead, Amber Lee explained, Miranda quickly married Jonathan Rawling, and the two of them left for several years while he gained experience in business in DC. When Jonathan’s father passed away, they moved back to Ramble to manage the family’s holdings, bringing little Derek with them.
“I never would have got that connection,” I said.
“Honey, this is Ramble.” Amber Lee sent her knife through a foam block. “We don’t have six degrees of separation here. There’s always a connection.”
Bloom and Doom Page 19
