Daisies For Innocence

by Bailey Cattrell

  I heard Astrid’s sudden intake of breath behind me.

  “Hang on a minute,” I protested. “You said Josie was killed in the park.” I waved my hand vaguely in that direction. “And you released my property just now. You can’t still consider me a murder suspect just because my ex-husband carries a grudge. If you want to know who actually had a fight with her the night she died, it was him.”

  “Nice try,” Lang said in a dry tone. “Harris doesn’t have a motive, and you do.”

  “But—” Astrid broke in.

  Lang stopped her with an upraised hand. “And did I mention a witness saw you in the park that night, Ms. Allbright?”

  “What? That’s impossible!”

  But when I saw Detective Lang’s smug face I realized he’d been saving this bombshell to spring on me. He looked like he was savoring every second, too.

  I glanced at Garcia. She’d donned an impenetrable poker face, and was watching me with the same assessment I’d seen in her eyes when I’d first met her over Josie’s body.

  “If anyone says they saw Ellie attack Josie, they’re lying!” Astrid said.

  “Not attack,” Lang admitted. “Just that she was there in the park.”

  “Who’s your witness?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  Lang said, “Pete Grimly.”

  My confusion must have shown on my face, because Garcia clarified. “You might know him as Bongo Pete.”

  “Oh.” I let out my breath in a little laugh and felt my shoulders relax. “That guy Gessie King lets camp behind her stables?” I remembered how he’d come to pet Dash when I’d parked in Gessie’s lot the afternoon before Josie’s murder. Bongo Pete was a big guy, gentle as a lamb. Like the rest of our small homeless enclave, the citizens of Poppyville looked out for him, made sure he was well fed and safe, but everyone knew he wasn’t quite all there.

  “You had me worried,” I said.

  “He says he saw you walking your dog along the fitness trail that night.” Lang looked pointedly at Dash, who was gazing obliviously out the door at the birds breakfasting at their feeder. “Is that true?”

  “Ellie—” Astrid started.

  But I was already talking, “Well, yeah—I took Dash for a walk before bed. I told you that. But that was a little after ten. Josie didn’t get off work until midnight. I was fast asleep by the time she was killed.”

  “Not according to Pete. He says it was well after midnight,” Lang said.

  “Detective, seriously,” Astrid broke in. “Bongo Pete doesn’t know what time it is any given moment.”

  “He did see me earlier that day, but way earlier,” I said. “He’s a nice guy, and I wish him no ill, but he doesn’t even know what day it is most of the time.”

  “He’s willing to testify,” Lang said, not breaking eye contact with me. “Come on, Lupe. We’ve got a bit more work to do before we can wrap this up. Oh, Ms. Allbright?”

  “What?” I practically growled.

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell us where you hid the murder weapon.”

  “Very funny,” I said, not liking how my voice wavered.

  “Mmm. I’ll see you outside, Detective.” And he went out to the boardwalk.

  I looked at Garcia, unable to keep the dismay off my face.

  She had the grace to meet my eyes. “I’ll ask you one more time,” she said. “Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Josie Overland?”

  I blinked. “Not yet.”

  “Does that mean you plan on finding out?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Because I can’t officially recommend that,” she said in a mild tone. “Now, what do I owe you for these items?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Frustration leaked out around my words. “The price is on the sachet. I don’t know what to charge you for the cocoa butter, because it’s a raw ingredient, which I don’t usually sell. How about you double the price of the sachet, and we’ll call it good?” I was overcharging her, but I didn’t care.

  Her chin dipped in a single decisive gesture. “That works.” She reached into her pocket, extracted a few bills folded together, and handed me one. “I don’t need any change.”

  Lang looked back at us from outside. I could almost sense his urge to tap his foot.

  “Fine.” I gave the money to Astrid, who went behind the counter and opened the register drawer.

  “Thanks,” Detective Garcia said, and joined her partner out on the boardwalk.

  I turned to Astrid, who regarded me from behind the counter with one eyebrow raised. “Now what?” she asked.

  My shoulders slumped. “Do you think Lang’s trying to railroad me? All because of Harris?”

  She leaned her hip against the counter. “Or to show how fast he can solve a murder. To impress the chief of police. Or to impress his new partner. I heard Lupe Garcia transferred from Las Vegas. He might feel like he has to prove something about his small-town department.”

  “More like he has to prove something about his small something else,” I muttered under my breath.

  Astrid heard me and grinned. Then she sobered. “Seriously, Ellie. What are you going to do?”

  Reaching for the rose oil, I took a whiff and sighed. “I’m going back to the Roux later.” Seeing her expression, I said, “I want to talk to Maggie again. Yesterday I didn’t get a chance to find out what the fight between Harris and Josie was about. It’s probably nothing, but you never know. Maybe I can talk to some of the other waitstaff, too.” Not to mention that walking back into the restaurant the day before, while unsettling, had also made me feel as though I’d taken yet another aspect of my life back. Returning today might keep that momentum going.

  “Yeah,” she said slowly. But I could tell she was unconvinced.

  I climbed onto one of the counter stools and swiveled to face my friend. “I need to find out more about Josie. I mean, someone hated her enough to kill her.” I sighed. “It’s a shame about her brother. If my sister was murdered, even if we weren’t close, I’d be there in the thick of things.”

  “You aren’t close to your sister,” my friend said.

  “Half sister,” I said. “But that proves my point. If anything happened to her I’d at least show up in Los Angeles to see if I could help.”

  “Would Colby?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said.

  Astrid shrugged. “I don’t know. Men are different.” She pushed back and reached for her backpack on the floor. “Besides, Silver Wells is only forty minutes away. It’s not like Josie’s brother can’t make the trip to Poppyville if the police need him for any reason.”

  “Somebody is going to have to clean out Josie’s apartment,” I said. “Maybe I’ll go see him. Offer my condolences and see if there isn’t some way I could help with that.”

  “Um, I don’t think Detective Lang would like you ‘helping’ to dispose of Josie’s things,” Astrid said with a dry expression. “Not until you’re cleared as a suspect at least.”

  Rubbing my hand over my face, I said, “Yeah, you’re right. But I’d still like to talk to her brother, maybe learn something about her background. I knew so little about her.” Out of nowhere, tears threatened. I blinked them away. “That’s kind of awful, when you think about it. She worked for me at the Roux Grill and then here, and I didn’t know too much about her.”

  “You can’t be expected to know everything about everyone,” Astrid said.

  She was trying to help, I knew. But I still felt guilty. Hopping down from the stool, I reached behind the counter and retrieved a pad of paper and a pen to make a list.

  “So one thing is to talk to her brother, Vance Overland.” I looked up. “I wonder why they didn’t get along?” I jotted a note on the pad. “Who else could have had it in for Josie?”

  “Harris.”

 
I grimaced and tapped the pen against my chin. “I thought of that. Still, I don’t think he has it in him to stab anyone. He’d yell and swear, but if he ever really wanted someone dead and screwed up the courage to do it—which is pretty unlikely—he’d poison them. Stabbing is . . . too messy.”

  Slowly, Astrid nodded. “I see what you mean.”

  “Josie moved here a few years ago from Silver Wells. I was thinking about how sometimes the past can catch up with a person. For all we know, her murderer might not even be from here. That’s one reason I want to talk to her brother.”

  Astrid looked skeptical.

  “Yeah. Unlikely, huh. But who in town had it in for her? Her coworkers at the Roux Grill?”

  “How about her creepy apartment manager?” Astrid made a face as though she’d just squished a spider.

  Pointing my finger at my friend, I nodded. “Good point. Tom Steinhart definitely disliked her.” I added him to my list. “What about her cleaning clients?” I looked up. “She was so busy that I think she only had three or four at any given time.”

  “Ooh,” Astrid breathed. “But who knows what kinds of untoward secrets a housekeeper might stumble into?”

  CHAPTER 11

  I FELT a frisson of excitement at her words. I might just be able to pull off finding Josie’s killer. And even if I couldn’t, I could at least expand the suspect pool beyond yours truly. My shoulders slumped. “But I don’t know who they were.” Then I brightened. “I bet Maggie can tell me.”

  “Well, I know of one house Josie cleaned,” Astrid said, swinging the backpack over her shoulder. “Gene and John Trace.”

  “John’s involved with the community theater, isn’t he?” I asked. “And as I recall, last year Gene helped Maria Canto with the fund-raiser to update the children’s section in the library.” From what else I knew, they were a couple of former Internet moguls from Silicon Valley who had retired to Poppyville about four years before.

  “That’s them,” she said. “They live out on the south side of town, in that Frank Lloyd Wright–style place overlooking the river. But they’re off the hook as murder suspects, because they’ve been gone a week. They won’t be back from San Francisco until this afternoon.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “I take care of their German shepherd when the guys are gone. I pick her up and board her at Dr. Ericsson’s, then take her out for a run or two every day.”

  “Didn’t you have to jog a German shepherd the other morning?” I asked. The morning before Josie died.

  She nodded. “Yes, that’s her. Alexandra. She’s a sweetie—older, has arthritis.”

  “They sound pretty wealthy. I bet they could have hired someone to kill Josie,” I mused.

  Astrid rolled her eyes. “Right. Because that happens all the time in real life. Besides, those guys are so nice. Philanthropists and advocates for the homeless. I can’t imagine Gene and John had any reason to dislike Josie, forget killing her.”

  “You know, I’ve always been curious about that house,” I said with a smile.

  “It’s beautiful—if you like Prairie School architecture.”

  “I’d love to see inside,” I hinted again. “Are you taking the dog to them, or do they pick her up?”

  One side of her mouth pulled back as she caught my drift. “I’m taking Alexandra back to them this evening. You want to come with?”

  I grinned. “That would be great.” They might not be suspects, but perhaps they could tell me something useful about Josie.

  “Okay, I’ll let you know,” she said with a smile in return. Then it dropped as she glanced toward the door and changed the subject. “So what’s the deal with Bongo Pete? Did you do something to make him angry?”

  “Of course not. In fact I saw him the day before. He wanted to pet Dash—who loved it, of course. When Bongo Pete left he wasn’t any different from usual.”

  “He’s just mistaken, then,” she said. “I’m sure anything he says won’t stand up in court, anyway.” She walked toward the door.

  Astrid paused and shaded her eyes to peer out at the street. She turned to me and waggled her eyebrows. “Looks like you have company.”

  “Who?” I asked, looking at my watch. It was nine o’clock on the dot.

  “It’s Thea. And she’s not alone.” Astrid held the door open for the Nelsons. “The shop isn’t open yet, but Ellie’s here.”

  “Hey, Astrid,” Thea said, stepping inside. “I’d like you to meet my brother, Ritter. He’s helping me out at the nursery—at least for a while.”

  “Ellie mentioned you were back in town,” Astrid said, stepping forward to shake his hand.

  I felt myself blush.

  “I’m Astrid Moneypenny.”

  “Astrid,” he said. “Saw you with Elliana at the Roux Grill yesterday. Nice to meet you.”

  “The Roux?” Thea asked.

  “Welcome to Poppyville,” Astrid said, saving me from answering. I wondered whether Thea knew Cynthia Beck had already snagged drinks with her brother.

  And who knows what else . . .

  “I’ve got to go, but I’m sure we’ll run into each other again. See you later, Elligator,” Astrid said.

  After she’d gone, Thea turned to me. “I was showing Ritter what’s changed in Poppyville since he’s been gone, and we brought along that mushroom compost you were looking for yesterday. Ritter, go get it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with good humor. “Elliana, where would you like it?”

  “Oh! Out back. Through the gate there at the end of the boardwalk.” I walked over to point it out. As I stood next to him, the top of my head didn’t even come up to his chin. He still smelled of cedar, but now it was tempered with the scent of running water, subtle and enticing.

  I looked up at him. “Or just leave it out here. I can take it back to the garden.”

  He looked surprised. “I won’t hear of it.”

  “She’s stronger than she looks,” Thea said.

  Ritter smiled at me. “No doubt.”

  I felt a tingle.

  His grin widened, and for a moment I wondered if my face had betrayed my thoughts. Then he turned away and strode out to Thea’s step-side pickup.

  “Let’s grab some coffee and meet him out there,” I said to her.

  Thea raised her eyebrows at me. “I thought you said the gate was cordoned off. Is it okay to go out there now?”

  “It turns out Josie was actually attacked in the park. The police released the boardwalk just before you got here,” I said. “I’ll open up the shop a bit later. And you know I can’t resist showing off the garden. I’d like Ritter to see your handiwork.”

  She harrumphed. “Mostly your handiwork, Ellie, and you know it.”

  I shrugged. “I couldn’t have created the Enchanted Garden without you. Besides, I have something I want to ask you about.”

  We went through the shop and grabbed three mugs of coffee and some of Astrid’s ginger softies. I slid open the door, and we stepped out to the patio. Ritter had dumped the bag of compost by the hose spigot. He distractedly took the steaming mug from his sister, his head swinging back and forth as he studied the plantings, the fence line, and the flagstones.

  I was pleased that there was little evidence that careless feet had tromped through the garden. I’d trimmed the lavender into a neat mound, removed the broken rose canes and snapped cone flowers, and smoothed the crushed hazelnut shells I used as mulch. I’d even had time to repair the green sea glass path that lead to the purple fairy door.

  “So you found Josie out front?” Thea asked.

  “Yes,” I said quietly. “Her foot was caught in the gate there.”

  Ritter looked over at me. “That must have been scary.”

  “It was. And it sure doesn’t help that”—I licked my lips—“the police
still consider me their best suspect.” I’d left out that tidbit the previous afternoon when I’d filled in the Nelsons on Josie’s murder.

  Now Ritter eyed me. “You? Why?”

  I ticked the reasons off on my fingers. “Because she died here. Because I found her. And because she was dating my ex-husband.”

  He tipped his head to the side, his gaze assessing. “And you still have a thing for your ex.”

  “No!” I cleared my throat. “Sorry. No, I don’t. But that didn’t stop him from telling the police that I was crazy jealous, and that made them assume I wanted Josie dead.”

  Thea said, “Wait a minute. I thought the police figured out Josie was attacked in the park, not here.”

  “That’s right. But you know what?” I held up my pinkie finger. “The fourth reason they think I killed her is because Bongo Pete says he saw me walking Dash after midnight—in Raven Creek Park.”

  Ritter sat down on another rocker, his brow wrinkle deepening. “Bongo Pete?”

  “Homeless guy who does odd jobs for Gessie,” Thea explained. “But . . . were you even there, Ellie?”

  “See? Anyone in town would have asked the same question, given the source of the information.” I sighed, and my voice lowered. “But yeah, I was there. I couldn’t sleep, so Dash and I went out for a bit of fresh air a bit after ten.”

  “What were you thinking?” She sounded scandalized. “Walking by yourself at night like that—and in a secluded area, too.”

  I shrugged. “I was thinking that this is Poppyville, and taking a quick walk after dark would be fine. Dash was with me. And you know what? It was fine.” I turned toward where I’d found Josie. “Well, except for . . . you know. And I did hear a rustle, behind me in the trees, on my way back.”

  Thea closed her eyes and pressed her lips together.

  Ritter muttered, “Jeez,” under his breath.

  “But Bongo Pete was wrong about when he saw me. If he saw me at all,” I said.

  “The man definitely has a unique relationship with time—and reality,” Thea said, and then to Ritter. “Pete is a good guy, nice, but he has some problems.”