Daisies For Innocence

by Bailey Cattrell

  She stood.

  “Inga,” I said. “He’s lying.”

  “Oh, Ellie. You clever thing.” He motioned me up with the knife. “Come along.”

  Having no choice, I shuffled toward the stairs. As I passed the console, I looked down at the portable phone handset. It was glowing orange.

  Someone was using another handset. Astrid.

  We began to climb. I said, “He’s going to kill us, Inga.”

  We just have to stay alive long enough for help to arrive.

  “We know he killed Josie.” I looked over at her. Understanding passed between us. Whatever she had in mind, Inga wasn’t giving up yet.

  “True!” Karl crowed from behind us. “I never said I wasn’t going to kill you. In fact, I’m thinking you’ll be found with the knife in your hand, Ellie. According to the ranting of your ex-husband, the police already think you killed Josie. They won’t be surprised to find you killed Inga, too.”

  “I called them before I came,” I said. “They’ll know it was you.”

  “Nice try, honey.”

  We’d reached the upstairs hallway. Five doors opened off it, two on each side, and at the end, double doors led to the master bedroom. Where was Astrid?

  Inga stopped and turned to face Karl. “I’m not opening any safe for you.”

  He reached out and pushed her. She stumbled against the wall.

  “Yes, you are.”

  Her chin came up. “Why should I, if you’re just going to kill us?”

  “Because if you do what I ask, I won’t start opening all these doors until I find your children. I’ll do what I have to do, and then I’ll walk away.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them as if she’d made a decision. “You’ll leave them alone?”

  He nodded.

  She turned and looked at me, then put her hands on my shoulders and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I don’t have a choice.”

  And then, very slowly, she winked.

  Inga turned and walked to the end of the hallway. “The safe is in here.”

  But instead of opening the doors to the master suite at the end, she opened the door on the right.

  Karl’s eyes narrowed. “Josie said the safe was in your bedroom.”

  “It is,” Inga said. “This is our bedroom.” She walked in.

  At first I thought she was trying to trick him, but when I got a good look at the books on the nightstand, the mussed coverlet on the king-size bed, and the tray on the dresser that held a phone charger, keys, and loose change, I changed my mind. The scent of the custom perfume I made for Inga confirmed it: This was where she and Brock slept.

  Karl pushed me into the room behind Inga and waited in the doorway.

  I turned to look at him, and saw Astrid standing behind the door. I looked away again, not wanting to give her away, but in that brief glimpse I saw she was absolutely livid.

  Livid was good. Astrid kicked butt when she was livid.

  Inga went to a tapestry on the wall and moved it aside. The wall safe was right behind it. Karl seemed to relax when he saw it.

  “Open it.”

  Inga moved to stand in front of the safe, twirling the combination forward, back, and forward again so none of us could see the combination. Karl smiled, seeming to find her secrecy amusing. After all, we’d both be dead soon.

  It took all my effort not to look at Astrid. I carefully kept my attention on Inga, exactly where Karl expected it to be, while trying to see what my friend was doing from the corner of my eye. The tiny bottle of oil was still clenched in my fist. Casually, I upended it and let the oil dribble out on the floor.

  Karl looked confused, but the two women didn’t seem to notice.

  Inga twisted the handle, and the door of the safe silently opened. “What do you want me to do now?” she asked, without turning around.

  A satisfied smile spread on his face, and Karl stepped into the room.

  And slipped in the puddle of oil. The klutzy cook went sprawling. The knife flew out of his hand and clattered against the wainscoting. He groaned, the wind knocked out of him, and Astrid and I both jumped on him to try to pin him down.

  He grunted and was still.

  We relaxed and gave each other a grin.

  Suddenly, he twisted, and pushed me off. He took a swing at Astrid, and his fist glanced off her shoulder.

  “Ow,” she grunted, struggling with him.

  “Karl, be still,” Inga said.

  I looked up at her, gaping.

  She stood in front of the safe, training a gun down on Karl.

  Astrid and I scrambled out of the way. Karl stared at her, his bravado and arrogance shriveling as he tried to sit up.

  A banging came from downstairs, then voices.

  “Ellie? Astrid? Inga?”

  “Up here, Detective Garcia,” I called, holding my hand out for the gun.

  Inga relaxed and handed it to me. “I think I might need a new perfume from you in the next few days.”

  “Come by the shop,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Lupe Garcia looked around the edge of the doorframe and took in the tableau. I motioned her into the room and handed her the gun.

  “This is Inga’s.” I pointed to the knife on the floor. “So is that, but Karl was planning to use it on us the same way he killed Josie Overland.”

  Detective Garcia grinned at me. “Nice job, Ellie.”

  Out in the hallway, I saw Max Lang redden and look away. I tried very hard not to feel self-satisfied—and utterly failed.

  I tipped my head at Karl, who was still lying on the floor. “He grabbed the knife from the Fowler’s kitchen. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if the knife that killed Josie came from the Roux Grill kitchen.”

  His glare told me I was right. I smiled at him.

  “I have to check on my kids,” Inga said, pushing out of the room.

  I looked in the safe, expecting to see a sheaf of cash, or at least a jewelry box. But there was nothing in it except for another even larger gun.

  CHAPTER 26

  DASH jumped to the ground from the seat of my Wrangler, and I picked up the paper plate of raspberry thumbprint cookies with both hands. I closed the door with my foot, and walked across the parking area toward the barn. The bock-bocking of a chicken echoed from the far side of the paddock, and three sturdy quarter horses watched me walk by with interest. One ambled over and tossed his head over the low fence.

  “Sorry, buddy. These cookies are spoken for.”

  Dash looked up at him with a grin and jogged after me.

  I found Gessie in her combination office–tack room in front of the stables, hunched over paperwork. Halters hung along the back wall, and the single saddle stand in the corner held her fancy silver-studded show saddle that I’d seen her sitting on in last year’s July Fourth parade.

  She looked up when I blocked the sunlight in her doorway. “Hey, Ellie!” She stood and gave me an awkward hug around the plate of cookies. “Heard you had a little excitement recently.”

  “A little. Things are going to get back to normal now.” At least they’d better.

  “Good to hear it. So what can I do you for?”

  Lifting the plate, I said, “I don’t suppose Pete Grimly is around, is he?”

  “Bongo Pete? Probably.”

  “I brought him some cookies.”

  She smiled. “Well, that’s awful nice. He likes cookies.”

  “Where would I find him?”

  “Let me show you.” Gessie led me outside and around to the back of the barn. Pointing to a line of trees a few hundred feet away, she said, “You can see where the river is there. He’s usually down that way, to the right. Away from the rest.”

  “Really?” I asked in surprise. “He doesn’t camp w
ith the others?”

  She shook her head. “Not usually. He’s kind of, well, sensitive, I guess you’d say. Being around other people makes him nervous.”

  I looked down at the cookies.

  “Oh, don’t worry. He likes visitors. Go on.”

  After thanking her, I made my way down the dirt path that had been worn through the bunchgrass. Dash bounded through the field, scaring up grasshoppers, collecting seed pods in his fur, and having a great time.

  A figure sat in a foldout camp chair next to a tent. He smoked a pipe, and I smelled the enticing aroma of cherry tobacco.

  “Pete?” I called, not wanting to frighten him.

  He turned and saw me. His broad face lit up, and his grin grew even larger when Dash ran up to him and started wiggling his tailless behind in greeting. He bent to pet him, and the corgi lapped at his hand.

  “Hi,” Pete said shyly. “I remember you.” He wore canvas pants, boots like Ritter’s work boots, and the T-shirt that said KING OF THE BONGOS.

  “From the park?” I asked, coming to sit beside him. The river murmured at our feet, tumbling over rocks and boulders and releasing the scents of wet soil and fish scales into the air around us.

  “Nah,” he said. “From the other day. And you always say hi to me on the street.”

  I nodded. “And you say hi back. But you don’t remember seeing me in the park the other night?”

  “Oh! Sure?”

  “How late was it?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Dark?”

  It didn’t matter. I held out the covered plate. “Do you like raspberry thumbprints?”

  “Mmm. I love them! You made these for me?”

  “Well, my friend did. She’s a better cookie baker than I am.”

  He took a delicate bite. “This is delicious. Would you like one?” He held out the plate.

  I took a cookie and nibbled it while looking at the river. “It’s peaceful here,” I said.

  “That’s why I like it so much,” he said. “The water washes away the stuff.”

  Surprised, I asked, “What stuff?”

  He waved his hand. “All the extra stuff. The sounds of the grass growing and squirrel’s heartbeat and how hungry the trout get by the time the sun goes down.”

  I stared at him.

  “Sorry.” His head ducked down. “Gessie says I shouldn’t say stuff like that. She says they’ll put me away if I do. No one knows what I’m talking about.” He met my eye. “I’m not trying to scare you.”

  I wondered if he could hear my heartbeat right then. I cleared my throat. “Pete, you’re not scaring me.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Really.”

  He smiled. “Would you like another cookie?”

  • • •

  MORE champagne?” Ritter asked.

  I grinned, already feeling kind of silly after just one glass. We were sitting in the dining room of the Sapphire Supper Club. A jazz quartet played quietly in the corner, and we’d already plowed through the gravlax appetizer. The champagne was in celebration of my no longer being a murder suspect.

  “Get this,” I said to Ritter. “Lupe told me they found the murder weapon in Karl’s kitchen. Once they knew who killed her, they got a warrant for the restaurant and Karl’s house. He’d taken it from the Roux Grill.”

  “Talk about hiding in plain sight,” he said with a grimace. “I wonder why he didn’t just bury it in the woods someplace, or dump it in the river.”

  I pointed my fork at him before snagging the last piece of yummy salmon. “Karl is one arrogant guy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he liked the idea of keeping it close.” I chewed for a moment. “Shyla was horrified to find out her boyfriend killed someone—even if she was jealous of Josie. Karl wasn’t what anyone at the Roux thought.” I looked around at the dark leather booths. “Maggie told me he used to work here before cooking for Harris.”

  A speculative look crossed Ritter’s face. “Huh. I wonder why he left?”

  “Me, too. Maybe someone here found out what kind of guy he really was. Not that it matters anymore. He’s going to prison for a long, long time.”

  “You’ll have to testify at his trial.”

  “Better than having to listen to Bongo Pete testify against me. I went and saw him, you know.”

  “Really?” He took a sip from his champagne flute. I silently admired the way his long fingers held the glass so delicately.

  “Yep. And you know what?”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Pete didn’t remember telling Lang he’d seen me in River Park—that night or any other.”

  “You don’t think Max lied, do you?”

  I shook my head. “I think that would be a stretch even for him. Lupe put in a request to work alone from now on. I hope the chief grants it.”

  “Lupe, huh.”

  “I like her,” I said. “And I’m helping her to remember some things for a memoir she’s writing about growing up in Albuquerque.” An idea that occurred to her after she’d made the champurrado from her childhood.

  Ritter’s forehead wrinkled. “How are you helping her to remember?”

  I twiddled my fingers. “Oh, you know. With scents and nonsense.” And a teensy, tiny bit of mnemosyne oil.

  The waiter brought our entrees. Ritter tucked into his seared scallops with bacon and leeks, and I savored my mussels steamed with tomatoes, fennel, and ouzo. We ate in silence for a little while, listening to the jazz and simply enjoying each other’s company. For a first date, it was pretty good.

  I took a break from the deliciousness and sat back. “Inga was wrong about her husband, you know. Maggie, the font of all knowledge, told me he’s not worried about his wife’s past being bad for his political career. Apparently infamous is as good as famous these days.”

  Ritter snorted.

  After dinner, we ordered a piece of lemon cheesecake to share. “A girl could get used to this,” I said.

  Ritter’s smile lit up his face. “I hope so. Plenty more where this came from.”

  He hadn’t mentioned leaving Poppyville when a new grant came through, and I wasn’t going bring it up, either.

  “How about a dance?” he asked.

  I held up my hand. “Oh, no. You need to know something right off the bat. I can’t dance.”

  “Elliana—”

  “No, I mean it. I really can’t dance.”

  Shrugging, he stood. “That’s okay. What are you going to do, bruise my feet? You’re light as a feather.” He held his hand out to me.

  I tried to protest again, but the words died in my throat when I saw the expression on his face. Heart pounding, I took his hand. He led me out to the postage-stamp dance floor and wrapped me in his arms. I leaned my cheek against his chest as we swayed to the mellow music.

  “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

  Feeling utterly content, I murmured, “No.”

  The band started in on a livelier tune, and my nervousness returned. As I turned to go sit down, Ritter slowly spun me out, around, and back into his arms.

  I laughed.

  He did it again, a little faster, and then again with an extra twirl at the end. Nuzzling my hair, he said, “I don’t know who told you that you can’t dance, but you’re a natural.”

  We sipped our champagne and danced and nibbled on cheesecake for the next hour. Finally, I said, “I need to get back. Early day tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” he said easily.

  As he drove me back in Thea’s Terra Green truck, he reached over and took my hand. I looked down, but didn’t pull back. He parked and walked me to the gate.

  “I’m going to stop here,” he said. “Don’t want to be too pushy.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered, overwhelmed and giddy and still a little scare
d.

  “This is for you.” He reached into this pocket and withdrew a small bouquet. Even without seeing it I knew it was lavender. Lavandula stoechas, to be precise. Ritter placed it in my hand, curling his fingers around mine to hold it, and kissed me on the cheek.

  I watched him drive away before opening the gate. Dash was waiting for me.

  In the Enchanted Garden, I whispered to the corgi, “Do you think Ritter knew what lavender is supposed to mean?”

  The acknowledgment of love.

  I was answered by light breeze moving through the wind chimes.

  Inside, I turned on the light by the love seat in the living room and reached for the purple leather-bound blank book I’d purchased at Rexall Drugs earlier. I opened the package of colored pencils that had been part of my little buying spree as well. Opening the journal to a random page, I began to sketch a picture of a topped lavender bloom.

  RECIPES AND AROMATHERAPY

  ASTRID’S CHEWY DOUBLE CHOCOLATE CHUNK HAZELNUT COOKIES

  Makes approximately 48 cookies.

  1¼ cups butter

  2 cups sugar

  2 large eggs

  2 teaspoons vanilla extract

  2 cups flour

  ¾ cup cocoa powder

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  ½ teaspoon salt

  1 tablespoon espresso powder or instant coffee

  1 cup dark chocolate chunks (or large chips)

  1 cup hazelnut pieces

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

  In a large mixing bowl, cream together butter and sugar. Add eggs and blend until smooth and fluffy. Thoroughly mix in vanilla extract. In another bowl, sift together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, salt, and espresso powder. Add flour mixture to the creamed mixture and blend well. Fold in chocolate chunks/chips and hazelnuts.

  Mound cookies on parchment-lined baking sheets, two inches apart, using about two tablespoons of dough for each cookie. Bake for 10–13 minutes. Remove and allow to cool on baking sheet for 3–4 minutes before moving to a rack to cool further. The cookies will be very pliable at first (so chewy later!). Delicious served slightly warm with coffee or milk.