I turned to face Lew and Lois. “I think Jacob knew Dixie from when she came with her father to treat Evan’s livestock.”
Lew spoke with skepticism. “But Bretta, surely there are other veterinarians in River City who doctor Amish animals. What are the odds that Jacob knew Dixie?”
I countered, “What are the odds that an Amish man would go to work at Parker Greenhouse where Dixie had worked? What are the odds that this same Amish man would have in his possession a photograph that could be Dixie dressed in Amish clothes?”
Lois gasped. “You saw this picture?”
I nodded. “On Sunday, the day after Marnie’s murder. I didn’t get the opportunity to study the photo, but I saw the dark dress covered with an apron, the dark hair covered with the white cap.”
I stared at the doll in my hands. Grimly, I said, “I’ve been such a dope.”
“Aren’t you being rather hard on yourself?” asked Lois. “There wasn’t any reason for you to suspect that Jacob had a connection with anyone who’d worked for Parker Greenhouse.”
“That’s true, but the moment I saw that photo of an Amish woman I should have been alerted that something wasn’t right.”
In perfect unison, Lois and Lew asked, “Why?”
“Amish don’t have their pictures taken, and they most definitely don’t pose, staring straight into the camera.”
Lew said, “You’re exactly right, Bretta. ‘Thou shalt not make to thyself a graven image.”’
I nodded. “The Amish consider posing for photographs to be an unacceptable act of pride. That picture wasn’t of a true Amish woman, but the coloring, the shape of the face, could very well be Dixie Ragsford.”
chapter Fourteen
My plan to involve Lois and Lew in the investigation had worked so well they all but gave me the bum’s rush out the back door. My crew of two sternly informed me they could handle the flower shop until I brought this mystery to a conclusion. All they asked was that I keep them posted on any and all developments.
With these instructions in mind, I drove to the greenhouses. I arrived just as the employees were taking their three o’clock break. Some of the workers were outside having a smoke. Others were in the lounge, indulging in brownies artistically arranged on a plate rimmed with a platinum ring. Hmm—my dishes at home carried this very same design.
My gaze circled the room until I found her. DeeDee was slouched in a chair, all wide-eyed and guilty looking. It appeared that she’d put in a hard day. Her blue T-shirt was sweat stained. Her curly dark hair had lost its bounce, hanging in clumps around her ears. Many times I’d come into the kitchen to find her slaving away over a hot stove. Pots would be steaming, the contents boiling, but I’d never seen her as wrungout as she was at this moment.
A speck of pity touched my heart, but it was gone before I could identify it. She’d brought this on herself. I had plenty to say to her, but to the room in general, I said, “Looks like I’m just in time.”
“Help yourself,” said Irma, dabbing a smear of chocolate from her chin. “I’m not staying. I have to get back to my bookkeeping duties, but when I heard there were homemade brownies in here, I had to stop by for a treat.”
“They look luscious,” I said. I picked up the biggest square on the plate—my plate—and took a bite. I chewed blissfully. When I could speak, I said, “My housekeeper oversees my diet. She never fixes me anything like this.”
Irma said, “You can thank our newest employee. DeeDee, this is Bretta Solomon. Bretta is a greenhouse customer and a good friend of Dan and Natalie Parker. Bretta, this is DeeDee Henry. DeeDee is helping us for a few weeks until we get caught up with some work, and then she’s off to cooking school.”
“Cooking school?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “If these brownies are any indication, I’d say you have a wonderful future ahead of you.”
DeeDee ducked her head and murmured, “T-Thank y-you, m-ma’am.”
Irma leaned close. “Jess says she’s a quick learner and a hard worker, but she stutters and is very shy.”
I glanced at DeeDee and saw her cheeks redden. She’d heard Irma’s comment. Before I could think of a way to ease DeeDee’s embarrassment, the young woman next to her stumbled to her feet. Her face was pale. She clutched her stomach and gagged.
“Sorry,” she gasped. “Don’t feel well.” She staggered out of the lounge and into the bathroom. The door slammed shut.
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked.
“Food poisoning?” suggested a woman. Everyone laughed. Three people reached for another brownie.
A man with crumbs on his shirt said, “If that’s the case, at least we’ll die happy.”
“No, seriously,” I said. “She looked very ill.”
Irma shrugged. “We get this every summer. Someone gets too hot and spends more time in the bathroom than she does potting cuttings.” Unconcerned, Irma walked out.
The man with the crumb-covered shirt smirked. “Ah, the shortcomings of the weaker sex …”
This bigoted remark opened a loud discussion. No one paid any attention when the young woman came out of the bathroom and sat down next to DeeDee. Amazed, I watched this formerly ailing woman pick up a brownie and eat every morsel. She topped it off with a candy bar from her purse.
DeeDee noted my interest. She frowned, stared at the door I’d entered, and then back at me. I could take a hint. Aware that she was watching, I picked up another brownie. It was a defiant act on my part. DeeDee would never bake this kind of snack at home. She knew I couldn’t leave them alone, and I knew each bite inflated the fat cells on my butt. I ate the brownie anyway, sauntering out of the lounge and into the corridor.
Eugene was at the order desk, making calls to customers, taking their orders for delivery tomorrow. Jess and Natalie were talking over by the door that led out onto the loading dock.
I walked up to them and heard Jess say, “Put that bunch of puffers and hackers in house B with the tropical plants. All this second-hand cigarette smoke might kill off those aphids that have moved in on the bougainvillea.”
“Would that really work?” I asked.
Natalie turned. “I thought that was your SUV parked outside. You’re home early.”
Jess said, “In answer to your question, Bretta, probably not. There used to be an insecticide on the market called Black Leaf 40. It contained nicotine concentrate—tobacco juice. We mixed it with water and sprayed infected plants. It was an excellent pesticide but the government banned it several years ago.” Jess cracked a snide smile. “Figure that one out. We can’t control pests, but pests can control the government. Tobacco is big business.”
“But you use other insecticides?”
Jess nodded. “I’d rather not, but we have to. The very conditions that make plants grow—high humidity and heat—also makes the bugs proliferate.” He frowned at me. “Why all the questions?”
“While I was in the lounge, one of the girls got sick. I was just wondering if she was exposed to some chemical—”
Jess held up his hand. “You can stop right there. All kinds of government agencies would be on my ass if I didn’t follow strict precautions. If the woman got sick it wasn’t because of any insecticide used on this property. You can be damned sure of that.” He turned on his heel and stalked off.
I grinned sheepishly at Natalie. “Guess he set me straight. I wasn’t accusing anyone of anything. I was just—”
“—fishing for information?” said Natalie. “It’s a wonder you have any friends at all. You seem to antagonize people with your questions.”
“Only if they have something to hide.”
“And you think Jess does?”
Aware of Eugene sitting close by, I said softly, “At this point I’m not sure of anything.” I studied Natalie. Her face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. “What’s going on with you?” I asked.
Natalie could hardly speak for smiling. “Dan’s coming home tomorrow.”
“Well, that’s good ne
ws. No wonder you look as if you’ve won the lottery.”
A shadow passed over her face. “His mother’s funeral was this afternoon. He’s been through so much. I hate that he’s coming home to more sadness.”
“What sadness?” said Donovan, coming up behind us. “Are you talking about Marnie’s death? Has there been any new evidence?”
Natalie looked at me, and I shook my head. “Nothing that I’ve heard,” I said. “But Sid is working night and day. He’s made her murder top priority.”
“As well he should if he wants to get reelected,” said Donovan.
Natalie said, “Maybe those old personnel files we found in Dan’s desk will help.”
Donovan sighed. “So that’s where they are. Irma’s been squawking all morning about those missing files. She went to the cabinet to put away some folders and found the slot empty. She wanted to call in the deputies patrolling outside, but I told her there was a logical explanation. A thief wouldn’t come in here and carry out employee records.” He frowned. “I wonder why Dan wanted them?”
I knew without a doubt that Natalie was about to blab. I tried to stop her with a nudge, but she drew an audience with her opening remark. “Marnie’s murder is just the tip of the iceberg.”
Jess, pushing a cartload of plants, stopped to listen. Irma came out of her office and Eugene left off making phone calls so he could hear what Natalie was saying.
“Bretta would have told this more professionally,” Natalie said, casting me a smile. “But she’s too modest. She’s the one who noticed that we’ve had several employees who work for a couple of weeks then go away. One of the women has disappeared.” She thought a moment then said, “Her name was Paige.” She looked around the circle of faces. “That’s why Marnie came to work here. She was friends with Paige and was trying to figure out what might have happened to her.”
The air crackled with tension. This was the very situation I’d been avoiding—confronting the suspects with information. While Natalie talked about Marnie’s generous nature, I glanced at Irma. Why had she been upset that the files were missing? Why call it to everyone’s attention? Unless she knew that once they were discovered to be gone, she’d be held accountable because they’d been stored in her office.
I turned so I could see Eugene. His eyes were narrowed. His handsome face seemed carved of stone. By his own admission he’d loved Marnie. Was her death a crime of passion? A quarrel between lovers?
Jess and Donovan took care of the hiring and firing of employees. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched them. Was Jess’s interest casual? Should I discount Donovan as a suspect simply because he was Natalie’s uncle?
Was I making too much of the information I’d gleaned from the files? Mentally, I gave myself a shake. No. I was on the right trail, but Natalie had alerted my prey. With each word, Natalie placed me in more danger.
A cold fist closed over my heart when she said, “Shannon Plummer. Dixie Ragsford. Paige Cooper. Those are the names of the employees. Do any of you remember them?” Trying to jog their collective memories, she added, “I think Shannon worked here three years ago.”
Donovan’s gaze danced lightly across my face. “Natalie, I can see from Bretta’s stricken expression that what you’ve told us wasn’t necessarily meant for our ears.”
Natalie swung around to stare at me. “I don’t care what the sheriff says, Bretta. We can trust these guys. Besides, surely the more people who know what you’re looking for, the more chances you’ll have of learning the facts. Isn’t that how sleuthing works?”
I cleared my throat. “Sometimes.”
A sly laugh sounded from behind me. I turned. Harley leaned against a wall. He nodded politely, but his tone was cold. “But it’s never a good idea to tip your hand, is it, Mrs. Solomon?”
I licked my dry lips. “I prefer to keep some information to myself.”
Harley smoothed his Fu Manchu mustache. “Or be more selective as to who you confide in.” He waved his arm to include Irma, Eugene, Jess, and Donovan. “My guess is we’re the last people you’d have shared that information with, but you don’t know us like Natalie does.”
My irritation flared. “Are you saying that just because you work together, your lives are open? You each know all there is to know about the others?”
Harley clamped his lips shut, but Irma said, “Here at Parker Greenhouse we’re a family. We care about each other.”
“Oh, really. Did you care enough about the young women Natalie mentioned to find out why they left after only two weeks?”
Irma frowned. “Two weeks is hardly long enough to establish a relationship. You have no idea how many people come to work here and leave. We can’t follow up on all of them.”
“Perhaps, you’re right,” I said, lifting my chin. “But while they were here, did you try to get to know them? What if I told you that Paige’s mother is in a wheelchair? Since her daughter’s disappearance she’s alone with her pain and heartache. When I mentioned Parker Greenhouse to Shannon Plummer she became edgy and excitable.” I stared at the faces around me. Softly, I asked, “I wonder why? Did you know that Dixie tried to kill herself and is living at Coventry Acres in a psychiatric ward?”
A strangled cry punctuated my final words. I jerked around. There was Jacob, his face contorted with anger. I started toward him, but he waved me away.
When he spoke his voice was as cold as death. “Why would you spread such vicious lies about my … about Dixie?”
Chapter Fifteen
I went to Jacob and tried to take his arm, but his hostility toward me was red hot. In a gentle tone, I bribed him. “I’ll tell you Dixie’s story if you’ll come with me.” He hesitated for a moment, then stalked ahead of me out the loading dock doorway and down the steps. He waited for me on the drive.
I wanted privacy, so I led the way to the gardens. I told Deputy Swanson, who was on duty at the entrance, that Jacob and I needed to talk. He agreed to let us in if we stayed away from the crime scene. He also said he would have to follow us at a discreet distance. I told him that was understood.
The three of us entered the garden with Deputy Swanson about twenty feet behind us. It was late afternoon, and the sun was scorching. There wasn’t a breeze to evaporate the droplets of perspiration that gathered on our skin. I kept waiting for Jacob to speak, but he was silent. I hoped he was corralling his scattered thoughts, so that he could speak coherently when we finally had a dialogue going.
We took the path away from the stone cornucopia, passing the Garden of Contemplation. It would have been a nice place to stop, but the sun bearing down on the gravel sent out endless waves of heat. Turning back to Deputy Swanson, I called, “Let’s head for the Moon Bridge and the waterfalls. It should be cooler there.”
He wiped his brow and nodded.
We plodded on in silence. I sneaked a peek at Jacob. His eyes were on the path. His mouth set in grim lines.
I touched his arm, but he drew away. “I’m sorry, Jacob,” I said. “I would never have been so blunt about Dixie’s condition if I’d known you were close by. I was trying to raise some moral consciousness among those people, not to hurt you.”
“You said she tried to kill herself? Why?”
“From what I understand, while Dixie was gone, her father was gored by a bull and died. When Dixie came home she found her mother about to remarry. Dixie was depressed, and she tried to take her own life.” Again I wondered if this was the sequence of events or if Dixie had come home depressed. This was bugging me, but I didn’t know where to find the answer.
Jacob said, “You must have the Dixie I know confused with someone else. My Dixie would never do harm to herself.”
“It has to be the same woman, Jacob. The father of the Dixie I met was a veterinarian. She often went with him on his medical calls.” From the paleness of Jacob’s face, I knew I’d finally convinced him we were speaking of the same young woman.
At the foot of the Moon Bridge, I said, “Let’s cross o
ver and sit on that stone bench by the waterfall.” Without a word, he did as I directed.
Deputy Swanson was as good as his word and stayed behind us. His presence made me feel secure, while the distance allowed Jacob the freedom to vent his emotions, which seemed to have been bottled up inside of him for a long, long time.
Once we were seated Jacob started to talk, rapidly, his tone filled with passion. “I was sixteen when I met Dixie. Her father came out to our house to treat one of our milk cows. I’d never seen anyone like Dixie, so lovely, so gentle. That old cow was a mean critter, but Dixie stood next to her and sang. I didn’t understand all the words, but Dixie’s voice was as smooth as cream.
Jacob pulled the photograph from his pocket. Up close, I immediately recognized Dixie dressed in Amish clothing. Softly, Jacob said, “That first moment when I set eyes on her, I knew I was in love. She was three years older than me. She was English. She was book smart and talented, but I loved her.”
He touched the picture with a fingertip. His voice trembled as he said, “And the amazing part was that she loved me, too. The next day she drove out to the house. She told my father she was checking on the cow, but I knew she’d come to see me. Before she left we agreed to meet that evening on the gravel road that backs our farm.”
“Down by the creek?” I said, knowing the place all too well.
Jacob nodded. “We met under that old oak tree, fitting our bodies between the exposed roots, snuggling in the moonlight. For two weeks she drove out from town every night so we could be together. Then she stopped coming to see me. I went to the creek each evening, but she never came again.”
He glanced at me. “The pain in my heart was almost more than I could bear. I didn’t know what to do. When I was in Woodgrove, I used a pay phone and tried to call her home, but she wasn’t there. My family doesn’t shop in River City, so I couldn’t go to the address of her father. I buried my pain and tried to forget her, but I would think of her often. The days slipped into months before I got a letter.”
Reap a Wicked Harvest Page 14
