by Laina Turner
“Bridget, can you think of anyone who would want to do this? Or have you noticed anyone hanging around here that doesn’t belong?” Cooper asked.
“I’m pretty friendly with all the girls, so no, I don’t know who would do this.”
That seemed to be the mantra of everyone here, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed something about her station that didn’t look quite right. “Is that your bag, Bridget?” I asked, pointing to underneath her dressing station where an oversized brown Coach tote was sticking out of the curtain that covered the base of the station.
“Um, yeah,” she said nervously, as Cooper looked at me and then at the bag quickly. I could tell he wasn’t sure why I had asked.
“May I?” I said, motioning to the bag.
“Do I have a choice?” she asked, a little snotty. She seemed to go on the defensive.
“What’s going on?” asked Harvey, looking confused. Cooper held his hand up to silence him and nodded at me.
I reached down, hooked the corner of the bag with my fingers, and pulled it out. Sticking out of the unzipped tote was a can of red spray paint. I looked at Bridget, and then at Harvey, who slowly realized what he was looking at.
“Bridget. You did this to yourself? Why on earth…” he said, trailing off.
Bridget burst into tears as we all looked at her. “I’m sorry,” she wailed.
“Why, Bridget?” Harvey asked.
“Camille was getting so much attention and I figure people might feel sorry for her and that would give her a better chance to win. I wanted that attention.”
“Oh, Bridget. This isn’t the way.” Harvey shook his head and turned to Cooper. “Cooper, I’m sorry. I know you have better things to do with your time than to deal with pranks that aren’t real.”
“That’s okay,” Cooper said. “Presley, go ahead and tell Linda the girls are free to come back in and then meet me back in the room,”
I did as he asked, and Linda and Elaine were full of so many questions I had to promise to try and meet them later for coffee and fill them in. As much as Cooper would allow, which I tried to make clear to them, but wasn’t sure they truly understood.
When I got back to Cooper, Harvey was gone, as was Bridget. “Is she in trouble?”
“Yeah. I think Harvey is going to kick her out of this pageant,” Cooper said. “He was very upset one of his contestants would do this.”
“Did she say anything else after I left?”
“No, just kept repeating she was sorry over and over. I feel kind of bad for her.”
“Why?”
“To be so insecure to do something like this for attention?”
“I guess.” I shrugged, not feeling all that sorry for her. Maybe that was callous of me, but she knew what she was doing was wrong. “That’s what they signed up for when they made the decision to be in a pageant. To be scrutinized.”
“Maybe. But still. It seems like it can be brutal to the self-esteem. Anyway, I didn’t get to finish what I started to tell you this morning about my visit to the greenhouse.”
“Did you get the information you were looking for?”
“They gave me a list of the people they knew of who would have the ability to grow a tassel flower. There are no public greenhouses that they knew of, but there are three private ones.” He pulled a slip of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to me along with his keys. “Do me a favor and take the rental car and check out these places. I need to follow up on some things back here.”
“Do you think one of these greenhouse owners killed Hollie?”
“Anything is possible, but I think it’s more likely someone bought the tassel flowers from one of those places. From the little research I did, it’s not a flower just anyone can grow. Keep in mind, whoever did this understands how to extract the poison from the flowers or knows someone who does. At least by meeting the greenhouse owners you might get a better sense of who probably isn’t guilty. You know it’s sometimes all about the process of elimination.”
“As you keep informing me. Okay, I’ll check these places out and let you know what I find out. Where will you be?”
“Have a meeting with the new guys who just got here last night, about the logistics over the next couple days of pageant practice, and then for the final show.”
“Have fun.”
Chapter 9
I opened the door to the rental car, which was a silver Chevy Impala, and slid into the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat forward so I could reach the pedals. It took me a few more minutes to figure out the GPS system in the car. Back home I just usually used my phone’s map app, but since I was in such unfamiliar territory I thought maybe the voice turn-by-turn navigation would be more helpful. I typed in all three addresses and it created the best route for me. Something else my iPhone app wouldn’t do. Or if it could, I had no idea how to use it. From the directions, it looked as if I would have a few hours of drive time. It seemed the three greenhouses were at opposite corners of town and outside of town at that. Oh well, I didn’t mind driving, and it would be nice to get out of the hotel and see the sights and listen to some music.
I drove about forty-five minutes to the first location, finding it with no trouble, thanks to the voice coming from the GPS I had now named Bertha. I pulled into the driveway next to the sign marked Thompson’s Greenhouse and saw a modest-looking ranch style home in front of me and off to the left what must be the greenhouse. It looked to be as big as the house itself. The place was huge. I parked next to two other cars, which were in the driveway, and got out, my heels sinking into the gravel. Probably should have worn different shoes to go greenhouse visiting.
As I walked up to the door, I began to wonder if I should have called first. This was, after all, a private residence-slash- business. I was just about to knock on the door when it swung wide open. Standing in front of me was a very handsome man about my age, maybe a couple years older. He had dark brown wavy hair and dark chocolate-colored eyes. He wasn’t all that tall, maybe around five nine or so, but compactly built, probably a wrestler in his high school days if I were to guess. Definitely a good-looking guy. He smiled when he noticed me checking him out, and I blushed. I was, after all, happily in a relationship with Cooper, but there wasn’t anything wrong with looking. Though if I were honest, I didn’t really want Cooper looking. Got to love the double standard, but at least I admitted it.
“Can I help you?” cute guy asked.
“I…I’m looking for the owner,” I stammered, and then blushed again because I was embarrassed to be stammering.
Cute boy smiled again. “That would be my grandfather, Jack, but he’s not here right now. I’m Jeff,” he said holding out his hand to shake mine. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Maybe. I’m Presley Thurman and I work for a company called Sands Security. We’re working with a client down here and it has led us in search of people who grow tassel flowers.”
He frowned. “Tassel flowers? That’s not one I hear every day. I’m not sure I see the connection.”
“We got your name, and two others, as private greenhouses who grew, or at least have the capacity to grow, tassel flowers. I came out to see, first, if the information is accurate, and if so, if you had sold any recently.”
“C’mon in and I will check our records,” Jeff said, holding the door open for me. “We can grow just about anything, but I’m not sure if we have grown any tassel flowers lately. In fact, I don’t ever remember growing any.”
As soon as I stepped in, I was taken aback not only by the temperature and humidity, but also the overwhelming, strong floral fragrance.”
Jeff noticed my reaction. “Give it a minute, it will subside.”
“What, the humidity or the smell?” I said, smiling.
“Both. We keep the temperature a steady seventy-eight degrees, but the amount of moisture in the air here causes the humidity to skyrocket. But you’ve got to like the smell of the flowers as the humidity makes
the smell much more potent. What girl doesn’t like flowers?” he teased.
“It’s a wonderful smell, just a little overpowering. What do you grow here?”
“Mostly roses and orchids and a few specialty flowers. We grow and sell to the bigger greenhouses, our niche being varieties of roses and orchids that aren’t as common. My grandfather personally loves to grow orchids, but there isn’t as much profit in those. It takes a much bigger investment to grow orchids. I mean investment in the sense that the quantities must be that much greater to make it worthwhile.” He stopped talking for a few minutes while he concentrated on the computer screen.
“Now let me see if this program works the way it is supposed to. Theoretically, I should be able to put tassel flower in the search bar and it will pull up anything related to that product. I say theoretically, because we just recently migrated to an online system. Grandfather has been resistant into coming into the modern technology age, and not all the data made it. Too much of the business knowledge was in his head and he finally realized, for me to be able to take over one day, we needed to join the new way of doing business.”
“So this is a family-owned business?”
“Yep. Proud to say I’m the fourth generation. Trying to learn all I can before Gramps retires next year. Though that’s what he says, I’m not sure I believe it. I can’t imagine him ever retiring completely. Here we are. Nothing. Sorry. We either haven’t grown any tassel flowers for anyone or else the records just didn’t make it. I know we haven’t grown any in the year I’ve been here full time.”
“Well, I appreciate you looking.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“That’s okay,” I said, walking back to the door, anxious to get out of here before my hair completely frizzed up. Humidity was not my friend.
“Why don’t you leave your number, and I’ll ask grandfather when he gets back if he knows of anyone else around here who may have grown some. The greenhouse community is pretty tightly knit.”
“That would be great,” I said, digging in my purse for one of my new business cards designating me as an official member of Sands Security. I handed it to him and he slipped it in his pocket. “Thanks again for looking.”
“No problem. I hope you have better luck at your next stop.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t. The person working at the next greenhouse I stopped at wasn’t nearly as pleasant as Jeff, being quick to convey how my request was a bother. I was even more frustrated at the second dead end. Patience was not a strong suit of mine. I wanted an answer now! Hopefully, the third greenhouse on my list would have some useful information.
An hour later and two wrong turns, Bertha was confused, but I arrived at The Gallery, which was the last greenhouse on my list. It seemed a strange name for a greenhouse, but then again what I knew about anything green wouldn’t get me far. I did not have a green thumb and killed any plant I tried to bring home, so I had given up on that a long time ago, much to my mother’s dismay. She was a prizewinner in the Junior League for her roses and was disappointed I wasn’t going to carry on that tradition.
It was a little after five, so I was hoping someone was still here. I knocked on the door and waited. In a few seconds, I heard someone walking toward the door.
“You’re not Trish, are you?” a petite woman about fiftyish said to me as she stuck her head out the door. She had short gray hair styled in a cute spikey cut.
“Um, no. My name is Presley Thurman. I was hoping I could have a few minutes of your time.”
“Ah, good. Come on in, then. I’m Izzy. What can I help you with?”
Her friendly nature was refreshing after the bad attitudes at the last place. “I was wondering if you grow tassel flowers?”
“Tassel flowers. Interesting. That isn’t a common flower we grow, but you’re the second person in three months who has asked for it. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask for it until you two. Isn’t that a fun coincidence? May I ask why you need a tassel flower? It’s not for a wedding is it? I have much better flowers. Take these roses over here—”
“Oh no, it’s not for a wedding. I work for a security firm and we are looking for someone who may have bought tassel flowers recently.”
“Are you a cop?” Izzy asked.
“Not a cop. Just an associate at a company called Sands Security.”
“Didn’t think so. Your taste in shoes is too good.”
“Why would you ask me if I was a cop?” I asked.
“Cops were here earlier asking the same thing.”
That made sense; they would be investigating just like us. “May I ask who bought the tassel flowers?”
“You may, but I’ll tell you the same thing I told the cops. I don’t remember.”
“Do you keep records? Sales receipts?”
“Not very good at that, I’m afraid. I told the cops I would look, but frankly, honey, I don’t expect to find much. I don’t have time to be bothered with paper. Besides, then the IRS can track your income,” she said winking at me. I was beginning to like this woman.
“Do you remember if it was a man or woman?”
“I think it was a woman, but I can’t be certain. Maybe Maddie would know. Hey, Maddie,” she hollered.
“What?” a loud female voice yelled back.
“Do you remember anything about the person who wanted us to grow the specialty tassel flowers?”
I heard footsteps coming toward us, and in a few seconds a woman arrived who was a replica of Izzy. I was surprised to say the least. They were almost identical; except Maddie’s hair was a fiery red and their clothing choices couldn’t have been more different. Izzy was conservatively dressed in a sensible jean skirt and navy blue sweater set, while Maddie was more bohemian in a maxi-dress and long crocheted sweater.
“Yep. Identical twins,” said Izzy, answering my unasked question. “We’ve spent fifty-some years having fun with it though we have very different tastes.”
“Speak for yourself,” Maddie said in a joking tone. “Izzy here was always getting in trouble and blaming me for it. I was always her patsy.”
“Oh, piffle. I hardly ever did that. Now let’s not bend this poor girl’s ear about nonsense from the past. Do you remember if it was a man or woman who bought the tassel flowers a couple months back?”
“Let me see,” Maddie said, scratching her head. “I think it was a woman. Yep, it was a woman,” she started shaking her head. “About your age. I didn’t catch your name dear,” she said to me.
“Presley. Presley Thurman.”
“Nice to meet you, Presley. Do people ever ask if you were named after Elvis?”
“Now, Maddie, don’t go getting all personal. Sorry, dear, she’s a bit nosy,” Izzy said apologetically.
Maddie waved her off. “Hey, I just ask what you want to ask but don’t because people might think you’re being rude.”
These ladies were a hoot. “I don’t mind. As a matter of fact, I was named after Elvis. My mom was a huge fan.”
“Your mom had good taste!” Maddie said.
“Can you tell me anything else about the woman wanting the tassel flowers?” I asked.
“Like I said, she was about your age. I’m assuming you are older than you look. Say twenty-seven?” asked Maddie.
“Close. A little older but I’ll take twenty-seven.”
“Right. She had red hair, not pretty auburn like yours, but more of an orangey red. It didn’t go with her skin tone. It looked like a wig to me, but maybe she was just born with bad hair. Other than that I can’t tell you much. The hair just really stood out at me.”
“That’s great information. I appreciate it. Did you tell the police this?”
“I wasn’t here when they came, so no. Izzy here doesn’t have a memory for people the way I do.”
Izzy sniffed. “You may remember people, but you sure can’t add.”
“What’s all the fuss with these flowers anyway?” asked Maddie.
; “As I was telling Izzy, I work for a security firm and we were hired by a company to investigate into some pranks that have happened recently, and we ran across tassel flowers in the course of our investigation. I’m just tracking down where the flowers might have come from.” I tried to stay as close to the truth as I could without giving out too many details.
“You mean the beauty queen who was murdered?” asked Maddie.
I wasn’t able to contain the surprise that she knew about what was going on, and it probably showed on my face. “How do you know?”
“I listen to local news radio all the time I’m working in here. I heard one of those girls was killed, and the reporter said she was allegedly killed with poison. Tassel flowers are poison, and why else would the cops and you be asking about a flower no one knows about if it wasn’t for that? I put two and two together.”
I was astonished. “You’re a pretty smart lady, Maddie.”
She beamed. “I watch a lot of Murder She Wrote reruns and I was a chemistry major in college.”
I laughed. “Thank you, ladies, for the information and for being so nice.”
“Come back anytime, dear.”
“Oh, hey, Izzy? One more question.”
“Of course, dear.”
“Who is Trish?”
“She started laughing. Come back for coffee and I’ll be glad to tell you.”
“It’s a date,” I said.
As I headed back to the hotel, I was glad to have some information, though a red-haired woman under thirty didn’t help too much. It was still going to be difficult if not impossible to find that person. And what if she was wearing a wig? That opened the field of possible suspects even that much more.
Chapter 10
A red-haired woman under thirty, huh?” Cooper said after I filled him in on my trip to the greenhouses. And possibly wearing a wig. That’s not much to go on but don’t be discouraged. It’s more than we knew before you went,” he thoughtfully said. He knew me well and knew I would be frustrated by not having solved this already.
