Daisies For Innocence

by Bailey Cattrell

  “Well, hi, Ellie. I didn’t know you were a member here,” Inga said.

  “I’m not. Just checking it out. You know. Not getting any younger and all that.”

  She made a face, and I sensed her familiar anxiety. Because I’d made a crack about age? Inga had to still be in her twenties—unless she’d had work done.

  I smiled a big smile at Missy, who had been watching us from her treadmill with a sour expression. “Hi. I’ve seen you at the salon, but don’t think we’ve actually met. I’m Ellie.” The music suddenly stopped as I spoke, so my name echoed throughout the room. I ducked my head and tried to will myself to stop blushing.

  “Missy,” she said. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her forehead was shiny with sweat. She was a substantial woman—not overweight, but seriously muscled. Still, she ran easily along the treadmill, her rapid footfalls light and silent.

  I climbed onto the stair stepper between them and peered at the control pad. I could feel their eyes on me, so I took a chance and punched a button at random. The steps began moving under my feet, and I had to start climbing to keep from being dumped backward onto the floor. Within seconds, I was panting and sweating.

  Great.

  I plodded on, thighs burning. Inga and Missy had stopped talking once I’d unceremoniously elbowed my way in between them. How was I going to start a conversation about Josie when Missy didn’t seem to want to talk to me at all?

  Artlessly, that was how. “So Missy, Josie Overland told me she used to clean for you. She was such a sweetheart. What happened is so terrible.”

  Inga shot me a surprised look.

  Missy’s lip curled. “Used to, is right. I fired her.”

  My jaw slackened in surprise. Then the stair stepper got away from me, and I had to scramble to keep up.

  What button did I push, anyway? I squinted at the control panel, but all I saw was a series of lines that looked as if they belonged on an EKG.

  I’m going to need an EKG by the time I’m done here.

  “You fired her?” I panted. “She worked for me, too. Bartending and also in my retail store. I thought she did a good job.”

  “She was a snoop,” Missy said flatly. “And I think she stole some of my jewelry.”

  I flat out gaped at her. I punched the STOP button, and the stairs mercifully ceased their movement. “Stole? Holy cow.” I looked at Inga. “Did you have any problem like that with Josie?”

  Inga shook her head.

  Now that I wasn’t trying to climb the Eiffel Tower, I could sense something beyond the bitterness Missy Renault projected. I took in her defiant expression, the determined set of her jaw. Despite all that, this woman was deeply lonely.

  Well, no wonder. She probably drove everyone around her away. I tried to dig up some compassion, but the last few days had tapped many of my resources. Maybe I could try to help her another time.

  If she even wanted help. That, I felt, was probably the crux.

  Concentrate, Ellie. You’re here about Josie.

  Inga’s anxiety was rising, too. Standing between the two of them, I felt buffeted by emotion.

  “I guess maybe I didn’t know Josie that well.” I reached for one of the antibacterial towelettes available in containers all over the gym, and swept it over the stair stepper as an excuse to stay where I was. “I wouldn’t have thought she was a thief, though. How long did she work for you?”

  Missy shrugged. “A year, maybe.”

  I looked at Inga.

  “Same,” she said. “It wasn’t my idea to hire her, though. I didn’t like having a maid.”

  I remembered the computer file labeled HOUSEFAIRY. Josie hadn’t exactly considered herself a maid. But all I said was, “Why not?”

  Inga shrugged. “I just don’t like having people I don’t know in my home. It’s one of the reasons I don’t have a nanny. I like being a mom.”

  “But no one likes to clean,” Missy pointed out as her treadmill slowed and she began to walk.

  “Maybe,” the other woman said. “But I love my home. I like taking care of it. I didn’t grow up rich, you know. It feels wrong to ask someone to scrub my floors. My husband insisted, though. He’s the one who hired Josie.”

  I smiled at her. “I saw your kids are over in the day care. They’re terrific.”

  Inga’s face brightened, and a calmness took over. “They’re sweethearts. I’m so lucky. I love my life,” she said.

  “With all that money?” Missy asked with a laugh. “I bet you do.”

  “That helps,” Inga admitted, turning off her bike with twenty minutes still left on the timer. She looked at her children through the open door of the day care. “But mostly, it’s about them.”

  She got off the bike and gathered her water bottle and a towel. “I’ll see you two later. Ellie, maybe I’ll run into you here again?”

  “Maybe,” I said brightly. Not on your life.

  She turned, and that’s when I saw the tattoo of a tiny daisy on her shoulder. A normal tank top would have covered it, but the racer back left it exposed.

  “Wait up,” Missy said. “I’m coming with.” She followed Inga back to the locker room without so much as a toodle-oo to me.

  I took one last look around the room, my thoughts racing. Then my eyes found the digital clock on the wall.

  It read two fifteen.

  Darn it! Ritter was going to be at Scents & Nonsense in fifteen minutes, and thanks to my foray into the world of fitness, I smelled like a goat.

  I jogged to the door and called to a puzzled-looking Mark, “Thanks for the tour. I’ll let you know!”

  Thankfully, Astrid wasn’t at her desk by the window anymore, so she didn’t see me jog by—or all the way home. On the way, I kept trying to remember what the woman in the photo with Josie had looked like at the Trace’s. Black hair, red lips, white teeth—and that daisy tattoo. That was all I could come up with. So why would Inga have the same tattoo? Had she seen Josie’s and wanted to copy it? I had to admit, it was pretty cute.

  When I got to the store, I was sweatier than ever—and a mint green truck was parked right in front.

  I tried to sneak around back, but Ritter stepped out to the back patio of Scents & Nonsense right as I hurried by. I nearly bumped into him, then backpedaled away.

  “Hey!” I said in a cheerful tone. “You’re early! And I was just at the gym. I’m going to grab a quick shower, okay?”

  “Sure,” he said easily. He grinned and sat down on a rocking chair. “I’ll wait here.”

  I scurried down the path to my house. He hadn’t blinked an eye when I said I’d been to the gym, and I had to look a sight. As I dashed through the shower and threw on a pair of shorts and the first shirt that came to hand, I wondered if I seemed like the sort of woman who worked out. Giving myself a once-over in the mirror with an assessing eye, I had to admit I was in pretty good shape. I could hardly avoid it. Gardening is the best exercise—for the body and the soul, I thought, reaching for the blow dryer.

  Then I put it back on its hook. No time for that.

  No time for makeup, either. But Ritter still gave me an appreciative look when I came back to find him playing fetch with Dash and a ratty old tennis ball.

  “Sorry about that,” I said. “Hope I didn’t make us late.”

  “Nah,” he said in a mellow tone. “I like your hair all wet and wild like that.”

  “No time to dry it,” I said, blushing.

  “It’ll dry on the way,” he said.

  I checked in with Maggie and set her to unmolding the now-cooled lotion bars. Out on the boardwalk, I eyed the truck.

  “Are you planning to get your own car, or just keep borrowing your sister’s ride?”

  He shrugged. “No reason to get my own car. I might be leaving in another month, and then what would I do with
a car?”

  Lead settled into my stomach.

  He turned to face me. “You know I’m here because I’m waiting for a grant to come through for my work, right?”

  I nodded. Thea had warned me. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 20

  I KNEW it was a long shot, hoping for useful information about Josie from the fashion model we were going to see. Other than Missy’s accusation that Josie had stolen her jewelry—something I didn’t believe for a minute—no one Josie had cleaned for had provided any real helpful information. I crossed my fingers that Detective Garcia would do what she could in an official capacity, but my Chatty Cathy attempts to elicit information sure hadn’t garnered much.

  Still, I was happy to take a drive on a sunny afternoon, and I’d always been curious about what the Tillman-Thelane gardens looked like. So I sat back and tried to enjoy myself in spite of my worries. Ritter didn’t know where the estate was, so I directed him to the west side of town and into the only neighborhood Poppyville could call fancy. The other houses were nothing compared to our destination, though—a rambling seven-acre spread behind a high stone wall that I’d never been on the other side of. At least not since the couple had moved to town and built their big house. When I was a child, that area had been an open space popular with birders and butterfly hunters.

  Ritter guided the truck around curves with smooth ease, blue eyes narrowed against the wind coming in the window and sun-streaked hair blowing around his face. He didn’t seem to mind, indeed had a small smile for the entire trip. With all the air rushing though the cab, we didn’t talk much.

  He was right; by the time we arrived, my hair was completely dry. I checked in the mirror, and was not impressed with my tangled tresses, but at least they were clean.

  Ritter pushed a button and looked into the camera set outside the wall. Moments later, the big iron gate was rolling to the side, and we drove through. I unfastened my seat belt and sat forward, taking in every detail as we wound up the narrow drive to the ginormous house on the hill. Maples lined the road on both sides, reaching up behind precise boxwood hedges.

  “Those need a lot of water,” I said. “In fact, all this greenery does.”

  “They can afford it.”

  “Yeah—but can the rest of us?” I asked.

  “Good point.”

  The drought that affected much of the state hadn’t hit Poppyville as hard. My garden was close to Raven Creek, and the underground springs that supplied the town were still in good shape. We knew we were lucky. Beyond lucky, actually. So many people were suffering from a lack of water.

  And places like this weren’t helping any.

  We reached the front of the house, which looked like something out of Downton Abbey. Not as large, of course, but ornate and very, very formal. I expected a butler to come out, or better yet a footman, but instead, Sophia Thelane herself came running out of the house as Ritter parked the car.

  “Oh, you’re here!” she said unnecessarily. “Thea called and said she was sending you two.” She did a double-take when she saw Ritter. “Well, hello. I’m Sophia.”

  “Ritter Nelson,” he said, sticking his hand out. “I’ve got some pictures for you to look at, and I’d like to see where you want the wall built. This is Elliana Allbright. She’s assisting me today.”

  “Hi, Ella.” Her eyes flicked to me for a split second before returning to Ritter. “Come on back, and I’ll show you what I have in mind.”

  I tried not to feel slighted—or like an ugly duckling. Sophia was indeed beautiful, but without artifice. She wore not a single bit of makeup, her expensively streaked hair was arranged in a messy pile on her head, and she had on a light off-the-shoulder sweater and cutoff jeans with holes in them. Yet everything about her exuded a sort of natural sex appeal. It was as if something that ran through her veins made her move like a cat and throw sparks when she laughed. She wasn’t trying, though.

  Wow. What I wouldn’t give for a little of that.

  She led us around the outside of the house to another gate, which she opened to the pool area. I’d been noting the landscape and admiring Thea’s work. At the same time, it was unsettling.

  For one thing, there were a lot of chemicals in use on this piece of land. Pesticides and herbicides and artificial fertilizers. I could smell their subtle sickening sweetness. And the plants were, for want of a better way of putting it, overtended. There were no spent blooms. Not even fading ones. No weeds. Nothing too large or too small for its delineated space. The roses were beautiful, but climbed their trellis in exacting rows. Rows. Someone took care of this garden full time. They took such good care of it they cramped its style.

  It felt as if the garden was full of beautiful birds that had had their wings clipped to keep them tame. I thought of the pieces of driftwood, the rocks, and other natural items Josie had collected on the shelves of her apartment, and wondered how she’d felt on this fancy estate.

  We reached the pool, and I adjusted my assumption about a gardener. There were actually three men working along the edges, not just one. Sophia approached and gave a few instructions. One of the men asked a question, and she shrugged and laughed. She wasn’t the one who was the control freak. Maybe it was her husband.

  “Come over here,” she called to Ritter. I followed along like a puppy.

  We wended our way over the stamped concrete, past an elaborate fountain—more water waste—and around to an adorable grotto set into a tall hedge. The inside was hidden from the pool and most of the surrounding area. It felt private and wilder than anything I’d seen since coming inside the gate, with ivy winding up the bay laurels and a lopsided table and mismatched chairs teetering on the mossy stones.

  “I love this,” I exclaimed.

  Sophia laughed. “Isn’t it wonderful? My husband loathes it, of course. He likes things just so. I don’t care, though. Rance is hardly here, anyway. He’s been working in Scotland for the last four months. Anyway, this little space is mine, all mine, and it’s where I want Thea to build my mosaic wall.”

  “Here?” I asked, pointing to the open spot beside the hedge.

  “Exactly. And I want it to curve around here.” She walked along the line she had in mind.

  “Got it,” Ritter said. “Let me show you some pictures.”

  They sat at the rickety table and bent their heads over Ritter’s phone. He began flipping through the pictures he’d taken of my mosaic wall, and Sophia oohed and aahed at each one.

  Feeling a little awkward just standing there, I went out to the pool to take a look around. Slowly, I strolled the perimeter, smiling at the gardeners, and trying not to breathe the strong scent of chlorine that had joined the other chemical smells.

  As I rounded the far end, I saw Ritter and Sophia in the grotto. They weren’t looking at his phone anymore. Sophia leaned in close and whispered something in his ear. He stepped back, looking startled. With a little shake of his head, he said something to the model. They rose and came out to meet me.

  “Ella, Ritter tells me these pictures are of a wall in your garden.”

  I nodded, feeling more awkward than ever.

  “Elliana,” Ritter corrected.

  “Right,” she said. “And your garden is open to the public? He says it’s really something.”

  “It’s behind Scents and Nonsense, the shop at the end of Corona Street. It’s open whenever the shop is open,” I said, trying to smile. “I’m sure Josie Overland told you about it. She worked there. Here, too, from what I understand.”

  Sophia closed her eyes and shook her head. “Josie. That poor girl. I cannot believe what happened.” She sounded sincere. “But I’m afraid she didn’t talk to me about your adorable gardens and store. She only came in when my regular housekeeper was off, but only for the last six months or so.” Her hand went to her throat. “Have they caught whoever d
id it yet?”

  “I’m afraid not,” I said.

  Ritter promised to pass on the notes he’d taken to Thea, who would contact Sophia soon. The model walked us back to the truck and, watching her move, I wondered about her effect on Ritter. He couldn’t possibly be immune to her charms.

  I pushed the thought out of my head and got in the truck. Sophia’s good-bye dripped with disappointment, and as she turned away from Ritter, her fingertips trailed slowly down his arm.

  Just like Cynthia’s had, in the Roux Grill. Was that a thing? Maybe I’d have to try it sometime.

  Nah.

  He watched her walk away with a bemused expression, then raised his eyebrows. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

  I nodded. “I’ll say.”

  He got in the truck. “Did you enjoy the show?” Sarcasm laced the words.

  My eyebrow rose. “What show?”

  The truck started with a rumble that quieted to a purr. “The famous fashion model licking my ear.”

  “I . . . she licked it?”

  He laughed, reddening. “She sure did.” He put the truck into gear. We drove back along the winding driveway. “She suggested that I might want to come visit her, um, grotto, at a later date, too.”

  “She’s married!”

  “Hmm. I don’t think that really matters to Sophia. At least not when her husband is gone, and, as you heard, he’s been away for a long time. If you think I’d be the first affair she’s had, you’d be one hundred percent wrong, Elliana. I bet your friend Josie knew that, too. However, I doubt it got her killed, because I bet everyone who works there knows. As you can see, Sophia isn’t all that subtle with her advances.”

  I stared at him. “When are you going back?”

  His response was a surprised look. “I’m not!”

  “Good Lord. You’re going to pass that up?”

  “Why . . . you actually . . . Listen here—just because she doesn’t care that she’s married doesn’t mean I don’t care. And besides, I’m interested in someone else.”