Daisies For Innocence

by Bailey Cattrell

  “I guess I do, now that you mention it.”

  “Ellie? You sound kind of funny.” She ducked her head closer, probing me with her gaze. “Are you okay?”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What to say? Was there a protocol for informing someone that you found one of your employees, who also happened to be your ex’s girlfriend, murdered on your doorstep?

  Probably not something Miss Manners covered.

  Her expression sharpened. “What happened?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, words of explanation ready if not exactly organized. But to my horror, all that came out was a soft whimper.

  “Holy cow, Ellie!” She bent and put the hydrangea down on the ground so she could give me a hug.

  Well, that sent me right over the edge. A sob erupted from my throat, and tears squeezed out of my eyes.

  Thea patted me on the back. “There, there.”

  “Now what’s all this?” came a deep voice from behind me.

  Startled out of crying, I whirled around to find a man standing there.

  I recognized him instantly. He’d aged a bit since I’d seen him last—what? Twelve years ago? But if anything, he’d gotten better looking. The light blue chambray shirt couldn’t hide the wide shoulders or the way his torso tapered down to his hips. He wore jeans and scuffed brown work boots. Sun-kissed strands streaked his chestnut hair, and lashes a model would kill for framed eyes the same clear blue as his sister’s.

  Ritter Nelson. Three years older than me, which in high school had been kind of a big deal. It sure hadn’t stopped me from crushing on my friend Thea’s big brother, though.

  All this registered in the split second it took my face to turn bright red. I reached up and wiped my eyes, stammering out, “Ritter . . . hi . . . I . . . I . . .” I took a deep breath and sniffed. “Hi.”

  “Well, hi, yourself, Elliana.” He stepped around me to stand by Thea, who absently patted him on the arm the same way she’d patted my back. “It’s nice to see you again. But tears? That’s no good.”

  “Nice to see you again, too,” I said, an octave too high. Mortified, I stared at him, afraid to say another word.

  “Ellie!” Thea said. “Are you going to tell us what’s the matter? Or—” She looked at her brother then back at me. “Is it, you know, girl stuff?”

  By then I was pretty sure every drop of blood in my body had migrated to my overheated, tearstained face. I shook my head vigorously. “No. No, not at all. Of course not.”

  Get a grip, Ellie!

  “It’s Josie,” I blurted.

  Took a deep breath and tried again. “She’s been murdered. I found her this morning.”

  Their lips parted in surprise. “Murdered?” Thea repeated in a quiet, stunned tone.

  I nodded. “Stabbed.”

  “You’re kidding. That’s just awful. When did it happen? Who did it? Why didn’t you call me?” She sounded truly outraged.

  “It just happened this morning. Or at least that’s when I found her,” I said.

  “Who’s Josie?” Ritter asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “You wouldn’t know.”

  “She’s a bartender at the Roux Grill,” Thea said. “And she works part-time for Ellie at Scents and Nonsense.”

  “Scents and—” he said.

  His sister cut him off. “Never mind that right now.” Then to me. “You found her? Good Lord. No wonder you’re upset, darlin’.”

  Ritter moved away from his sister and reached in through the window of the Wrangler to stroke Dash’s ears with his fingertips. My corgi nosed his hand, begging for more.

  I took a deep breath. “I’m okay. Sorry about the—” I waved my hand as if trying to dispel what happened. “You, know. Crying.”

  “Jeez, Elliana. I’d cry, too,” Ritter said.

  I highly doubted that, but it made me feel kind of fuzzy that he’d said it.

  “So tell us what happened,” Thea urged, leading me over to a bench snugged into the shade of the barn-red retail shop. Ritter ambled over to lean against the wall.

  I filled them both in on the details, leaving out the bit where I was wearing my little-girl pajamas the whole time and that Lang had said I was a suspect.

  “Good Lord,” Thea said again when I was done. Then, “I wonder who could have done such a thing here in Poppyville?”

  I looked down at the ground, still highly aware of Ritter standing so close. “I know. We have such a tame little town.”

  Ritter said, “There’s no such thing, I’ve found. Spent the last six months working out of three different hardly there towns in the wilds of Alaska, and by the time I left every one of them, it was clear each had something going on under the surface.”

  “Oh, hush, you,” Thea said. “This isn’t some rough-and-ready place full of mountain men and wolves. It’s the same Poppyville we moved to in elementary school.”

  A phone trilled on the other side of the wall. Thea started to get up.

  Ritter waved her back. “I’ll get it. Might as well start in right away.” As he walked toward the open Dutch door, he called over his shoulder. “See you later, Elliana.”

  As soon as he’d gone, I leaned over and hissed, “When did he get back into town?”

  She looked surprised. “Yesterday. You know his team has been studying environmental threats to the Alaskan tundra? Well, he’s between grants right now and came back to hang out with his little sis—and put his degree to work in a real business for a while.” Botany ran in the Nelson family.

  “Why didn’t you tell us that at the Greenstockings meeting?”

  “Because I didn’t think it was a big . . . oh. Wait.” She grinned. “I forgot you have a thing for Ritter.”

  “I do not!” Never mind the way my stomach had done a somersault when I’d turned around to find him standing right there.

  Her grin got bigger. “Uh-huh. So you want me to set you guys up?”

  “Of course not!”

  Maybe. The thought made my toes tingle at the same time it sent fear arrowing through my solar plexus.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and saw Astrid had called twice, but I’d managed to miss her both times. Now she’d resorted to a text.

  The police came to Dr. Ericsson’s office—Josie was murdered!? Oh, honey—please call me. Am worried about you.

  I grimaced. “I think I’d better get going. Astrid happened into the whole scene this morning, but the police made her leave. Now she’s off work.”

  Thea stood. “Let me get you that hydrangea. If you don’t mind?”

  “No, I’m happy to do what I can,” I said.

  She retrieved it, and I loaded it into the back of the Wrangler.

  “You take care of yourself, Ellie,” she said and I climbed into the passenger seat. “And call if you need to talk.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Behind her, I saw Ritter emerge from the gift store. He sketched a vague wave in my direction before turning away and heading for the greenhouse.

  Thea glanced over her shoulder, and I forced myself to look away from his retreating figure—and those well-fitting jeans.

  Her lips twitched, and she said, “He’s probably not going to be in town all that long, you know. The new grant money should come through in a few weeks.”

  I smiled and waved my hand, all devil-may-care. “It’s nice that you get to see him for that long, then. I’d better take off.” I started the vehicle and put it in gear.

  As I turned out of Terra Green, I saw Thea in my rearview mirror, standing with her hands on her hips and watching me go. That was when I realized that I’d completely forgotten to buy the compost I’d come for in the first place.

  • • •

  I PULLED over and called Astrid, and we agreed to meet at Scents & Nonsens
e. On the way back, I mulled over running into Ritter again after so many years. It was crazy how seeing him had made me feel. After all, I’d been sixteen when he’d left for college, though he’d come back to Poppyville for holidays during the years he’d worked through a four-year botany degree and then moved on to getting his master’s in environmental science. Every time he’d come back to town, he’d piqued my interest, but by then I’d had my own very full life and had left high school infatuations behind.

  So what was different now? Why couldn’t I get the image of his sidelong glance or the sound of his voice out of my mind? How had I forgotten that he’d always called me Elliana, instead of Ellie like everyone else?

  I remembered how he’d smelled of wool and cedar, and nearly ran a stop sign. Dash woofed his disapproval as the Wrangler lurched to a standstill.

  Stop it. Think about something else.

  Which, of course, led me back to my horrible discovery that morning, which, honestly, I’d been trying to avoid thinking about. Accelerating again, I considered why—and how—Josie could have been killed.

  She’d worked at the Roux Grill thirty hours or so a week, mostly bartending but also waiting tables or even busing when things got busy. Harris and I had often argued over whether we should hire full-time or part-time staff, but he was unwilling to pay benefits. Hiring part-time help, especially during high tourist season, was a common practice in places like Poppyville, where the cost of goods was high and employee turnover higher. Some restaurants brought in students from other countries to work the busy times in the summer, paying them a pittance for the privilege of spending time in the United States and working their tails off. At least Harris had agreed that we should hire locals.

  As I’d told the detectives, Josie had worked another twelve hours at my shop, split between Mondays and Tuesdays. She’d also cleaned houses for a few regular clients who had opted to live in low-key Poppyville rather than a larger city, but still had big houses and the bank accounts to match. I wasn’t sure who her current clients were.

  Once, when we’d been chatting in the Roux Grill, Josie had told me her real dream was to make a living as a professional photographer. I’d encouraged her to hang a few pieces in the restaurant, and if they were any indication of her overall talent, she might have really made a go of it.

  Now she’d never have the chance.

  “Who would do such a thing?” I asked Dash as I pulled into a parking space.

  He cocked his head at me and made a noise low in his throat.

  I sighed and rubbed my eyes with my fingertips.

  • • •

  I FOUND Astrid staring out the back window at the garden and nibbling on one of the otherwise untouched oatmeal cookies she’d brought that morning. Nabby, who had made himself scarce at the first sign of flashing lights earlier, now stretched languidly across his poufy bed. The red plush of the fabric accented the gray of his fur. A heavy purr rumbled from his chest, and he mrowed when he saw me.

  Astrid had turned when she heard the door open. Her eyes widened, and she quickly crossed to give me a big hug. She smelled of sugar and sandalwood, and I instantly felt better. After a few seconds, she held me at arm’s length and examined my face.

  “Are you all right?”

  My chin bobbed.

  “Truly?”

  “Truly.”

  The crease in her forehead eased a bit. “The police asked a bunch of questions, but didn’t tell me much about what happened to Josie.”

  “She was stabbed.”

  Her throat worked. “Oh, good heavens. That’s awful. Do they know who did it?”

  “Not unless they figured it out in the last few hours. I’m apparently a suspect, however.”

  Astrid looked surprised, then frowned. “So that’s why they were asking me all those questions about you and Harris.”

  I blinked. “Detective Lang said I was automatically a suspect because she was killed on my property. I imagine they asked about Harris and me simply because Josie worked for both of us.” At least, I hoped so.

  The phone in the office rang. The noise made me jump, and I realized I was as jittery as an aspen in the wind.

  “You want me to get that?” Astrid asked.

  I shook my head. “I changed the message to let people know the shop is closed today.”

  The ringing stopped, followed by the trilling of my cell phone in my pocket. I fished it out, inexplicably hoping it was Ritter.

  Of course, it wasn’t.

  My finger hovered over the IGNORE button, but with a sigh I shifted it to ANSWER. Suppressing a sigh, I said, “Harris.”

  Astrid frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Josie’s gone,” my ex-husband choked out.

  “I know.” What to say to him? I felt sick about Josie, but also disconcerted that hearing Harris’ voice brought back how it had felt when I’d learned the truth about their relationship, an unpleasant mixture of distaste and humiliation. “I’m sorry.”

  “The cops said she died there, at your house.”

  “In front of the shop,” I said. “I . . . I discovered her this morning.”

  Harris sniffled. I tried to connect the sound with the man I knew. Had I ever seen him cry? Maybe he really had loved her. I felt my heart soften.

  “She told me you two were dating,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course not!”

  I tried again, slowly. “I’m sorry for your loss, Harris. This is pretty shocking, I know.”

  Boy, do I know.

  Astrid’s frown deepened as she listened.

  “Shocking? Ellie, that’s a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?”

  I couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. “Oh, Harris—”

  “What am I going to do?” he wailed, shocking me into silence. “She was my love, my life. I don’t know how I can go on now. Why did this have to happen to me?”

  Ah, there it was.

  Trust him to make Josie’s death about him.

  With an effort, I kept my voice even. “It’ll be all right.” Would it? How could it be? “You’ll get through this. Really, you will. Do you have any idea who”—my voice broke; I swallowed in an attempt to moisten my dry mouth—“who might have killed her?”

  “The police came by. Talked to the staff and especially to me.”

  “Detectives Lang and Garcia?” I asked.

  “Is that her name? Mostly I talked with Max. She kept interrupting with a bunch of questions.”

  I suppressed a sigh. “They’re doing their jobs. They questioned Astrid at work, too.”

  He snorted, and Astrid rolled her eyes. They had always disliked each other.

  “I talked with them this morning,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll find whoever did this to Josie.” I believed it. I had to. Thanks to his friendship with Harris, Detective Lang might not care for me personally, but I had to hope he knew how to detect. Lupe Garcia had certainly struck me as a capable, experienced professional.

  “Oh, I bet they did talk to you, Ellie,” Harris said. “But don’t think that’s the end of it. I told them, you know.”

  Brow wrinkling, I asked, “Told them what?”

  “Erm.” His version of backpedaling.

  My stomach tightened. “Harris.” My voice held warning.

  “Well, they were asking a lot of questions about how you and Josie got along. You being my ex-wife and all. And her being my girlfriend.”

  “You know I liked her, for heaven’s sake. What did you tell them?”

  “There’s no call to be mean, Ellie. Especially at a time like this. After all—”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing much. But last night Josie said that she’d finally come clean with you about our feelings for each other. She said you stomped out of S
cents and Nonsense right after that.”

  “I had errands to run!” And I was pretty sure Josie hadn’t said any such thing.

  “Sure. Whatever. But I know you must have been jealous. It’s the way women are—especially you.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Look at how upset you got about Wanda.”

  “That was different,” I grated out. “We were actually married when you and Wanda—”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said. “But I mentioned your jealous streak to the cops when they were here. They seemed very interested.”

  “Heaven help me, Harris—” I stopped myself and grabbed a bottle of rose essential oil off the shelf. I inhaled deeply. It helped a little. “It’s bad enough that she’s dead,” I said. “Thanks a lot for telling the cops I did it.”

  “Well, I didn’t say that. Not in so many words.”

  I stopped myself from saying more. When was I going to learn? Arguing with him like this was futile.

  “I have to go,” I said.

  “Ellie, what am I going to do?” Harris repeated, his voice starting to rise.

  “Well, for one thing, stop telling people I killed your girlfriend.” I hung up.

  CHAPTER 6

  ASTRID’S fists were on her hips, and her expression was livid. “Harris can’t go around spreading lies about you, Ellie. Your ex is classically passive-aggressive.”

  I sighed. She was right, of course. He was an expert manipulator. He’d even turned around the fact that I’d walked in on him boffing Wanda, somehow making it my problem.

  Thinking about that day brought anger I’d thought I’d let go of to the surface again. Today had been a long terrible day already, and the last thing I needed was Harris fueling Detective Lang’s suspicions against me.

  I looked at my watch. “It’s almost five o’clock. And I don’t know about you, but after today, I’m ready for a drink.”

  “Well, then, let’s go to the Sapphire. We’ll hit happy hour, and I’ll even buy you some of those bacon jalapeño bites you like so much.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. We’re going to the Roux. Josie was close to Maggie—the head bartender? And I want to stop by and see how she’s doing. And while we’re there, maybe I’ll just have a little talk with Harris.”