Daisies For Innocence
Page 11
“When I was walking in the park that night,” I said, “Josie was still at work at the Roux Grill. But I can’t prove that.” I took a deep breath. “I feel terrible that she’s dead. Someone needs to pay for that—but not me. If Detective Lang is going to focus entirely on making the case against me, then I need to come up with a better answer for the next time Detective Garcia asks if I know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Josie.”
Thea leaned forward. “Is that what you wanted to ask me about?”
Actually, I’d wanted to ask her about the strange vine that had appeared near the birdbath. I turned toward it and opened my mouth to ask if she recognized it, but instead found myself asking, “Would you go to Silver Wells with me to talk with Josie’s brother?”
CHAPTER 12
THEA and Ritter both looked surprised. He leaned his elbows on his knees and gazed up at me from under his brow. “Why do you want to talk to him?”
“I was hoping he might be able to tell me something about Josie that would help find her killer. And I thought having someone else along might be a good idea.”
Thea raised an eyebrow.
“Detective Garcia said that Josie and her brother didn’t get along. I don’t know the guy, and have no idea what he might do or say.” I glanced at Ritter. “For all I know, Vance Overland could be crazy or violent. And he might have really hated Josie.”
“Enough to kill her?” Ritter asked, getting right to the meat of what I’d been trying to say.
I lifted one shoulder and let it drop again.
“Ellie, I don’t know if going to see her brother is such a good idea,” Thea said, looking thoughtful. “What if Max Lang finds out?”
“What if he does? He’s not interested in finding any evidence that doesn’t point to me, and he seems to be the one leading the investigation.” Never mind that Lang had also come right out and told me not to leave town.
“I don’t know . . .”
“I’m going to Silver Wells whether you come with me or not,” I heard myself say, surprised at the determination in my voice.
“You can’t just call him?” Thea tried again.
“I’ll go with you, Elliana,” Ritter said. “If you think it might be dangerous, maybe it would be better to have a guy with you.” He raised his palm. “Not that you can’t take care of yourself, or that you and my sister here wouldn’t be a formidable team. I’m just sayin’.”
Relief flooded Thea’s face. “Ritter, no one is taking offense. And honestly, it would be hard for me to get away from the nursery for a chunk of time right now—we’re busy as blazes. Still, I don’t want Ellie to go alone. I’d feel a lot better if you went with her.”
Ritter rocked forward. “What do you say, Elliana. Will I do as a fill-in for my sister?”
Boy, will you!
But I simply smiled and said, “That’d be great. Thanks for the offer.”
He tipped an imaginary hat. “My pleasure, ma’am. Just let me know when you want to go to Silver Wells. I’ll drive if Thea will let me borrow her truck.”
Thea grinned. “Sure, big brother. If you remember how to drive in the big city after being in the field for so long.”
He stood. “I think I can manage.”
She rose, too, giving me a little wink that made me wonder if she was really as busy at Terra Green as she’d claimed, or if this was a ploy for me to spend some time with Ritter.
Either way, it was okay with me.
Ritter looked at me and said, “What do you say? This afternoon?”
“Oh, gosh,” I said, figuring timetables in my head. Lang had intimated that they had to tie up only a few loose ends before arresting me. “Sooner is better, but I should check with Astrid to see if she can watch the shop.” If I absolutely had to, though, I’d keep Scents & Nonsense closed for the rest of the day. Clearing my name was more important at the moment.
The thought that I had to make that choice made me angry at Max Lang all over again.
“Forget that. I’ll call her, but let’s go ahead and make a plan,” I said. “How does one thirty sound?”
“Perfect,” Ritter said.
I saw them to the front door and locked it behind them. Given the circumstances, I wondered if it was wrong to feel such anticipation about going on this little venture with Ritter. Returning to the garden, I saw that the plant beneath the birdbath appeared to have grown a couple of inches just since that morning. And now there was a hint of purplish petals beginning to push one of the buds open.
Maybe I’d get a chance to ask Ritter about it later that day, I thought as I went in to get my wallet from the kitchen counter. After all, he was a botanist, and probably knew as much, or more, about plants as Thea did.
I knew I wouldn’t ask, though. For some reason, that plant didn’t want to be talked about.
Stuffing my wallet in my pocket, I returned to the shop, dialing Astrid’s cell as I walked back through the Enchanted Garden. When she didn’t answer, I left a message. Since she’d left work at the veterinary clinic early the day before, my bet was she wouldn’t have time to watch the shop while I went to Silver Wells with Ritter. Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask.
I’m going to have to find another helper. Maybe someone who can come in more often than twice a week.
I was in the office checking to see if there were any phone messages on the landline, when the sound of someone trying the front door brought Dash to his feet like a pointer. I tried to ignore it, but couldn’t. I rose and left the office to explain that the shop would be closed for a while longer.
Inga Fowler stood with her nose nearly touching the glass door, one hand cupped around her eyes to shield them from the morning glare, while the other firmly clasped the hand of a three-year-old boy. A little girl, maybe a year older than her brother, stood on her other side. Inga took a step back, frowning when she saw the hastily scribbled sign I’d placed in the window:
CLOSED DUE TO EMERGENCY
Then she saw me approaching and waved. I unlocked the door and gestured her inside. As usual, Inga looked as if she’d fallen right off a catalog page: black yoga pants with a high-end logo on the hip, a tight tank in lime green that showed off her stick-thin arms, and she’d harnessed her long straight blond hair with a leather scrunchie at the base of her neck. Nervous energy came off her in waves.
She tugged her son forward, while the little girl trailed behind. They were also perfectly dressed and tidy. “I got your message that you had my perfume ready and thought I’d pick it up on the way to the gym.” Inga pointed to the placard taped to the glass. “Then I saw that. Is everything all right?”
Glancing down at the kids I said, “Hey guys. You want to check out the fairy gardens out back?”
“Yes, please!” the little girl said.
Inga looked surprised. “We have only a few minutes . . .” Then she saw my face, and realized I didn’t want to talk in front of the kids. “Molly, you can go on out for a little while. Take your brother with you.”
“There are some cookies by the coffee urn,” I said.
“Just one,” Inga called to Molly with a tight smile before turning to me. “I try to limit their sugar.”
Her daughter stopped by the plate and scooped up a couple of ginger softies. She glanced at her mother, handed one to her little brother, then led him outside. I heard her say, “Lookit this! I bet a whole family of fairies live in that tree. Oh! Hello, cat!” Her voice faded as she moved farther into the Enchanted Garden.
Inga and I went as far as the back door, so she could keep an eye on them. They were stooped over now, looking at one of the tiny pathways that disappeared into a cluster of purple sage. She turned to me with a questioning look. “Is it bad?”
I took a deep breath. “You know Josie Overland, don’t you?”
A quick intake of breath, a flash of anxiety i
n her eyes. She nodded. “Of course. She cleans for me every two weeks.”
“Oh, gosh. I didn’t know that,” I said. With Astrid’s Internet moguls that makes two housecleaning clients of Josie’s. “You heard what happened to her, then.”
The skin on her face tightened with alarm, and her trademark anxiousness flashed again. “No. We’ve been in Sacramento for the last week. Just got back into town last night.”
And two for two out of town at the time of the murder. I suppressed a sigh.
Inga was always high-strung, but today it was worse than usual. She called the concoction I made for her “perfume,” and it did smell delightful, but in truth it was an aromatherapy remedy I’d developed to help her battle the nervous worry she was so prone to. I didn’t know what caused it—perhaps the stress of feeling as if she had to be so perfect all the time. Her husband, Brock Fowler, was wealthy from several different sources, and rumor had it he had some big political aspirations. I also didn’t know whether Inga took any prescription medication to soothe her anxiety, but I did know that the blend of lavender, sweet marjoram, ylang-ylang, and rosewood helped to calm her.
I didn’t like having to tell her Josie was dead when she was in such a state of disquiet; I was already empathically picking up on her energy to the point where I felt jittery. Nevertheless, I plunged ahead as gently as I could.
“Honey, I’m afraid she’s gone.”
“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” Her voice rose. Molly looked back at her mother from the far side of the garden.
“She was killed two nights ago,” I said.
Inga’s anxiety ratcheted way up, and I felt my own heartbeat quicken.
I put my hand on her arm. “Let me get you your perfume, and then I’ll tell you all about it.” I practically ran into the office to retrieve it. Quickly, I unscrewed the cap and took a deep whiff of it myself. Instantly, the jumpiness I’d absorbed dissipated.
Hurrying back out to where she waited, I thrust the bottle into her hand. I wanted to slather it under her nose. There was no need, however. She immediately spun the cap off and dabbed a bit behind her ears before breathing the vapor directly. Her eyes closed, and I watched her reassert control. After a moment, they snapped back open. “So what was it? Some kind of accident?”
I filled her in on the details.
“That’s horrible,” she finally whispered. Her gaze went to her children. “In Poppyville? But Brock and I moved here to get away from the big city with all its crime. We wanted to raise our kids where it was safe.”
“I know how you feel. But this is an anomaly—you know? The police will catch whoever did it, and things will go back to normal. It’s a safe place—I’m sure of it.” I couldn’t help defending the town I loved so much.
Inga looked skeptical. “Where did it happen?”
“In the park.”
“If it happened in the park, then why are you closed?” she asked.
“I hope to open Scents and Nonsense again this afternoon,” I nonanswered.
Distracted, Inga didn’t pursue it. She gave me her credit card and called for her children as I got the charge approved. As they came inside, I was happy to see their noses were a bit pink and their hair messy. Molly had a smear of mud on her tennis shoe, just like a normal little kid. Her mother didn’t seem to notice, still preoccupied by the bad news I’d just given her.
When they left, driving west toward the gym, I locked the front door again and let Dash out to the garden. Walking down to my house, I passed the strange waxy-leaved plant by the birdbath. In the past fifteen minutes, a single bud on the interloper had unfurled into a deep plum-colored bloom: seven-petaled with a pale blue center and bright orange pollen-covered stamens that reached toward the sun. I’d never seen anything like it in any of my horticultural studies or any of my books.
My books. But now that I could see what the flowers looked like, I seemed to remember something like that in Gamma’s nature journal.
Just because I’d decided to end my self-imposed banishment from the restaurant didn’t mean I wanted to deal with my ex again right away. I checked my watch. It was ten minutes to eleven. Harris left for the bank at eleven thirty every day, and then he stopped by the post office before coming back to the Roux to help with the lunch rush. My guess was his routine hadn’t changed just because I wasn’t in the picture anymore.
So, I could spare a few minutes to try to identify the mystery plant.
“Come on, Dash. Let’s take a quick look.”
I retrieved the journal from under the staircase and brought it out to where the new flower had taken root. Bumblebees droned nearby as I flipped through the pages, scanning drawings and descriptions in Gamma’s flowery script. A recipe for cowslip cordial caught my eye.
To Procure Sleep and Rest.
Cowslips aka Fairy Cups.
Means Winning Grace.
Whatever “winning grace” meant, procuring sleep and rest seemed like a pretty good idea. I made a mental note and kept searching.
There! In the center of the book, I saw the plant that was growing under the birdbath. I smiled broadly and whispered. “I knew you’d know what it is, Gamma.”
The wind chimes tinkled, and I looked up. There was no breeze. They tinkled again.
Frowning, I returned my attention to the drawing. It was faded, certainly, but visible. She’d rendered it in colored pencil, yet somehow managed to capture the waxy texture of the leaves along with the whimsical corkscrew of the stem like something out of a children’s picture book. Her version showed seven blooms at the top of the plant, just as the buds on the one in front of me promised. Each had seven petals, plum-colored and silky-looking, decorated with sky blue spots down near the stem and arrayed around brilliant orange stamens fluffy with pollen.
A notation well below the faded drawing had an arrow pointing toward the depiction of the flower. It took me a while to make out all the letters. They spelled “mnemosyne.”
My forehead squinched. The name was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
And there was writing in a spiral around the flower as well. I squinted to make it out, turning the journal slowly in my hands to follow the circular writing, which turned out to be a kind of verse.
Hidden memory,
Unbound
Only when ready,
When needed.
And however heady,
Best heeded.
And below that, a block of less cryptic information.
Aids in the access of memory. Rare convolvulus. Cannot be cultivated; seeds germinate only in the perfect medium of time and readiness.
The perfect medium of time and readiness? Okay, that bit wasn’t less cryptic. I kept reading.
Fast growing and extremely short-lived. Single harvest. Distill flowers only. Use with caution; powerful and sometimes dangerous in essential form. Always dilute with carrier oil.
As I read each word, I grew more excited. This was something new. Something I’d never encountered before, heard of before, and . . . my breath caught as I read the last line.
Anticipated by potent unique fragrance, intoxicating to those of us with the gift.
The scent that had teased and plagued me for the last two days suddenly enveloped me. It was coming from the plant! I looked back at the journal.
Mnemosyne. Squeezing my eyes shut and inhaling deeply, I reached back to a Greek mythology class I’d taken in college years before. Mnemosyne was a goddess. Like Narcissus, also the name of a plant, apparently. What had she been the goddess of? I opened my eyes, and shook my head. I couldn’t remember. I whipped out my phone and did a quick search. The name did not bring up any reference to a flower, even when I added “convolvulus” to the keywords. However, I did discover that Mnemosyne was the Greek goddess of memory.
Which made perfect sense, given Gamma’s notes.
I looked down at Dash, who had rolled onto his back beneath the plant and stared up at the sky with half-closed eyes, totally blissed out. For a split second, I actually thought about joining him, but I pushed the feeling away.
“Mnemosyne,” I muttered, and took one last look at the picture before closing the journal. The scent of the plant was just as strong, and I still reveled in it, but now it didn’t affect me as intensely as it had the first few times I’d smelled it. Perhaps simply knowing where it came from helped take the edge off. Again, a swirl of memories teased from some back room in my mind as I inhaled the heady fragrance, but try as I might that door wasn’t ready to open yet.
I must distill the essence of this flower. Soon, but not yet.
I didn’t know what I’d find, but I felt sure the mnemosyne had germinated in the Enchanted Garden for good reason. I felt obligated to preserve it. Gamma would have expected me to.
The senescence—the natural life span—of anything that grew so quickly would likely be quite short. However, I also wanted to be able to use as many of the full blooms as possible. Using my copper steam distiller, I would be able to extract at least a few precious drops of essential oil, as well as the concentrated liquid hydrosol.
If this emits such a heady perfume now, I wonder what it will be like concentrated a hundred times?
I was counting the buds that had yet to bloom when Dash bounded to his feet, barked, and took off after a squirrel. It ran up the apple tree, and he stopped at the bottom. Not for the first time, I marveled that he never dug in the dirt and seemed to understand how delicate the miniature tableaus were. Even on the hunt, as he was now, he skirted the tiny gazebo next to the trunk.
“Come on, tough guy,” I said, and headed to the house at the back of the lot. He lost interest in the squirrel, which was chattering his displeasure at both of us.