Marriage Is Pure Murder

by Staci McLaughlin

  Mitch cleared his throat. “Not that I remember. We talked about the weather and how it’s been dragging down my sales. She was telling me how things were slow for her, too, since wedding season’s pretty much over. Early November’s always hard on both our businesses, though she has Thanksgiving and Christmas to look forward to. She’ll be swamped with work soon enough.” Mitch looked down at the table. “Or she would have been.”

  Mom clapped a hand over her mouth and bolted up from the table. I looked at her in alarm.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  She smoothed down her sweater set and brushed off her slacks. “All this talk about work reminds me that I’m still on the clock. I only ran over here to see if you and Jason were okay, but in all the excitement, I forgot that I need to get back.” She bent over and gave me a hasty hug, said good-bye to Jason and Mitch, and rushed out.

  I watched through the open door as she ran across the street toward the consignment shop. Once she was inside the store, I turned my attention to Jason and Mitch.

  “If Bethany stopped by regularly,” Jason was saying, “then you must know her well. You’ve been working next door to each other for years.”

  Mitch rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. “I wouldn’t say that. We mostly stuck to the usual day-to-day stuff. I mean, I knew she was divorced and has that daughter of hers, but not much else. Most times she’d come in, get her sherbet, and leave. She wasn’t always the easiest woman to get along with, so I didn’t mind that she didn’t stick around to talk.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Jason sitting up straighter, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. Why was Bethany hard to get along with? Did it have anything to do with her murder?

  Chapter 7

  I saw Jason automatically reach for the notepad he kept in his pocket at all times. He must have changed his mind at the last second, because he reversed course and laid his hand on the table. He probably didn’t want to spook Mitch.

  “Why wasn’t Bethany easy to get along with?” Jason asked. His hand twitched, as if he still felt the urge to take notes.

  Mitch opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Ashlee’s high-pitched voice broke in. “There you guys are.”

  I turned to see her breeze through the door, dressed in her vet scrubs from work. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Hey, newsman,” she said to Jason. “Covering the murder for the paper?”

  Mitch paled. “Newsman? I thought you looked familiar.” He pulled back from the table and crossed his arms, not a promising sign.

  I tried not to be annoyed with Ashlee. She couldn’t know she’d interrupted an opportunity to find out more about Bethany.

  She plopped down uninvited in the chair recently vacated by Mom. “Sure, he’s the head honcho for the Herald.” She chomped on her gum. “So, what’s the scoop?” She looked around the ice cream shop and laughed. “Ha! I made a joke.”

  “Ashlee!” I snapped. “A woman has died.”

  Ashlee blushed. “Whoops. You’re right. Sorry about that,” she said to the table in general.

  “How did you find out what happened?” I pointed to her smock. “Weren’t you at work?”

  “Yeah, but Brittany texted me to say she drove by here a while ago and saw you and Jason in front of the flower place with all the cops and stuff, so she called her friend whose cousin is a police officer and found out the lady who owns the place got shot like fifteen times or something.” She blew a bubble, and it exploded with a loud pop.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. Even if Bethany had been shot, which I didn’t know for sure, she couldn’t have been shot more than once or twice, based on the amount of blood on her clothes.

  “Well, then what happened?” she asked, drumming her fingers on the table.

  “We don’t know yet,” I said.

  “Then how do you know I’m wrong?” Ashlee asked in a gleeful tone.

  Mitch had been watching our little back and forth as if it were a ping-pong match. He let out a soft groan and started rubbing his temple. A small smile played on Jason’s lips. He’d seen Ashlee and me spar before.

  I shot Ashlee a look, trying to get her to knock off her antics. “Anyway, what were you saying about Bethany?” I asked Mitch, praying that we could somehow get him talking again.

  He checked his watch. “Nothing important. Look, I need to get back to work. I have customers to take care of.”

  I made a show of looking around the empty ice cream parlor. I could have brought the pigs from the farm into the place for a banana split and no one would have been the wiser. “What customers?”

  Mitch’s face turned red. “We always get a big after-dinner crowd. I need to be ready.” He stood.

  Jason pulled a business card from the pocket of his leather jacket and handed it to Mitch. “I’ll be around the next few days, covering Bethany’s death. Here’s my card in case you want to talk.”

  “Sure, sure, sounds great,” Mitch said. He dropped the card on the table, where I suspected he’d leave it until we left and he could dump it into the trash.

  Ashlee, Jason, and I rose from the table at the same time. I checked my phone and saw it was going on seven o’clock. I felt so tired that I’d half expected it to be closer to nine.

  “Say, didn’t you see Bethany at lunch today?” Jason asked, breaking into my thoughts.

  “She wanted me to verify the flowers for our wedding.” Our wedding. The idea of getting married and starting a new life seemed at such odds with Bethany’s unexpected demise.

  “What made you come back after work?” Jason asked.

  Ashlee’s phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and stepped over to a corner to answer it.

  “Bethany called this afternoon to say the supplier couldn’t provide the flowers I’d selected for the bouquets,” I told Jason. “She wanted me to come back so she could help me decide on an alternate.”

  He pulled a notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. Now that Mitch knew he was a reporter, there was no reason not to.

  “Is that when you found her?”

  I tucked a chunk of hair behind my ear and rolled my shoulders to release the tension I felt building there. I knew Jason was simply trying to gather facts about what had happened, but I couldn’t help but feel as if he was interrogating me.

  “Right. She was lying in the back room. She had blood on her blouse and underneath her.”

  “No idea what caused it?”

  “I’m not a doctor,” I said sharply. “She had blood all over her, and she was dead.” I felt my face grow hot and felt instantly ashamed at myself for yelling at Jason. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

  He pulled me in for a hug. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. You’ve had a huge shock. I shouldn’t be asking you questions right now.”

  He gave me a gentle kiss, and all the tension eased away.

  Ashlee ended her call and rejoined us. Jason and I separated.

  “Guess we should reschedule that dinner,” I said to him.

  He looked at his phone. “No time to make that beef stroganoff, but I could take you to the diner, if you’re up for it.”

  “Not tonight,” I said, barely stifling a yawn. “After what happened today, I’m going home to get in my pj’s, zone out in front of the TV, and try to forget everything that’s happened.”

  Ashlee let out a squeal and clapped her hands together. “Awesome! We can eat a bunch of ice cream and watch The Bachelor. I call dibs on the mint chocolate chip!”

  “Wait,” I said to Jason, “I think I’ve changed my mind.” But Ashlee was already dragging me outside.

  It was just as well. Listening to her nonstop chatter as she critiqued the group of glammed-up women vying for the love of one man, making sure to list the qualities she didn’t like about each and every contestant, would keep me from dwelling on finding Bethany’s body. At this point, I’d take any distraction I could get.

  * * * />
  Two hours later, I was ready to call it a night. Ashlee had polished off her mint chocolate chip ice cream, plus part of my mocha almond fudge. The women on TV had cried enough tears to fill Esther’s duck pond.

  I pushed myself off the couch. “Okay, I’m spent.”

  Ashlee stared at me. “But it’s barely after nine.”

  “What can I say? Finding a dead body really took the energy out of me.”

  “Yeah, sorry that had to happen to you.” She frowned. “That totally sucks.”

  I was oddly touched by my sister’s words, such as they were, and almost gave her a hug.

  But then she spoke again. “Of course, you’ve found other people dead, too. Remember that lady from the green living festival? Isn’t it getting easier by now?”

  “No.” Before she could argue, I headed to my bedroom, already imagining my head resting on the pillow.

  “Wait!” Ashlee shrieked behind me.

  I jerked to a stop, my heart hammering. Slowly, I turned around. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Ashlee rushed over and grabbed my hands. “I just realized the most important thing.” Her expression was a mixture of alarm and gloom that made my own anxiety level shoot up.

  “What is it?” I asked, wishing she’d hurry up and tell me. Had she thought of a motive for Bethany’s death? Was she worried the killer was looking for more victims?

  Ashlee gripped my hands tighter. “With Bethany dead, you don’t have any flowers for your wedding.”

  I snatched my hands from her grasp. “For heaven’s sake, Ashlee. I don’t care about the flowers,” I said, as if I hadn’t had the exact same thought shortly after finding Bethany’s body. Still, it sounded so much more callous when Ashlee said it aloud.

  She stared at me with her mouth agape. “You don’t care? This is your wedding we’re talking about.”

  “I know that, but they’re only flowers. The most important parts are marrying Jason and having our family and friends there to share the experience with us.”

  She shook her head and made a disgusted sound. “I knew this was going to happen. First you throw this whole thing together in, like, five months or some ridiculous amount of time, when everyone knows you need at least a full year to plan a perfect wedding. Then you pick some shady flower lady who goes and gets herself killed just in time to ruin everything, and you’re not even upset about it.”

  “Bethany wasn’t some fly-by-night operator,” I said. “She was a well-respected businesswoman who ran that shop for twenty years. And I couldn’t possibly have known she’d be murdered when I ordered my flowers from her. It’s just a bad turn of events.”

  “But what are you going to do? You need something to hold when you’re walking down the aisle.” Ashlee seemed on the verge of panic, almost as though she were the bride without the bouquet.

  “I haven’t thought about it yet,” I said.

  “You’d better start. You’re getting married in a little over a week!”

  Ashlee’s panic was contagious. I started pacing in the hallway. “The problem is that Don’t Dilly-Dahlia is the only flower shop in town. If I order from a place out of town, I don’t know if they’ll be able to deliver the flowers fast enough.” I tapped my lower lip, considering my options. “If all else fails, I can pick up a couple of bouquets from the Meat and Potatoes grocery store. They’ve got a decent flower department.” Well, decent might be exaggerating a bit, but I didn’t have many choices.

  Ashlee gasped. “You can’t buy your wedding bouquet at the supermarket.”

  “Why not? I’ve bought flowers there before, and they always looked nice.”

  “But it’s so tacky,” she practically whispered.

  “It is not. I’m sure plenty of people have bought their wedding flowers from a grocery store. In fact, one of my friends bought hers at the gas station on the way to the courthouse last year.”

  Ashlee grimaced, as if the very idea made her nauseated. She snapped her fingers. “Wait, I just thought of something. Violet is Bethany’s daughter.”

  “Right,” I said, not sure what she was getting at.

  “She brings her dog into the vet’s office all the time. I think she even has an appointment coming up. I can call her to confirm and try to find out what’s going to happen with the shop at the same time. Maybe she wants to take over the business.”

  I tilted my head. “I don’t know that she’ll be ready to make such a big decision. Her mom’s been dead less than a day.”

  Ashlee shrugged. “True, but she may want to keep the shop open in memory of her mom. That means you’d still get your flowers.”

  “You could be right. And the sooner I find out if I need to start shopping elsewhere for my flowers, the better. It’d be great if you could call Violet tomorrow. Thank you,” I said.

  “No problem. If you want to show me how grateful you are, you can clean the bathroom this week.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. “Let’s see what Violet says first.”

  On that parting note, I headed off to bed. Again. After the day I’d had, I just wanted some sleep.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, the alarm sprang to life with a loud blare that yanked me out of a deep slumber. Still groggy, I shut it off and forced myself to get out of bed. Once in the bathroom, I set the shower temperature cooler than usual to help me wake up. When I was done, I wrapped a towel around me, padded out to the kitchen for a cup of coffee with an extra teaspoon of sugar, and returned to the bathroom to get ready. By the time I’d dried my hair and gotten dressed, I was alert enough to face the day, though my neck felt tense. Maybe I’d slept wrong. I grabbed my jacket and headed out.

  The farm was quiet when I arrived. An occasional songbird broke the silence as I followed the path past the vegetable garden. Off in the distance, I could see Gretchen at the entrance to the spa, talking on her cell phone. She often had early-morning clients who snuck in a massage or facial before going about the rest of their day. I raised my hand in greeting, and she waved back.

  With a few minutes to spare, I headed to the pigsty to check on Wilbur and his pig pals before I started my workday. Up ahead, I could see a couple of the guests heading toward one of the trails that ran along the back of the property. Most guests didn’t venture too far, but the occasional bird or wildflower aficionado would sometimes go exploring.

  I found the pigs with their heads in the feeding trough, eating their morning slop. I called Wilbur’s name, but he only gave me a cursory glance before returning to his food. I gave him a minute to finish, knowing it wouldn’t take long. When the last morsel was gone, he wandered over to where I was leaning against the top railing and snorted at me.

  “Good morning to you, too,” I said.

  He stuck his nose through the gap in the rails and sniffed my pant leg. I scratched behind his ear.

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard,” I said, “but Bethany, the lady who was providing the flowers for my wedding, was murdered yesterday.”

  Wilbur stepped back and gave me a wide-eyed stare. I’d have liked to think he actually understood what I was saying, but he probably had indigestion from gulping down his breakfast too fast.

  I kept the conversation going. “I was shocked, too, especially since I’m the one who found her. I have no idea why she was killed. Her flower shop doesn’t contain enough valuables to make it worth robbing. And while the owner of the ice cream parlor next door hinted at trouble with Bethany, I can’t imagine it was anything serious enough for her to be killed over.”

  Wilbur let out a sigh.

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t worry about it. Detective Palmer is already on the case, and I need to focus on my wedding.”

  Wilbur snorted his agreement. He wandered over to settle down with the other pigs. I took that as the end of our conversation and went into the house.

  Zennia was cooking at the stove. She wore a floor-length paisley-patterned dress that swished around her legs as she moved. E
ven from the doorway, I could hear her humming, though I didn’t recognize the tune.

  Hungry diners were due any minute, so I said, “Morning, Zennia. Need any help with breakfast?” I went over to the sink to wash my hands.

  She turned from the stove and offered me a smile. “No, thanks. I’m almost finished, and we only have a few guests this morning.”

  “Okay, then, I’ll be in the office.” I dried my hands and went down the hall. I spent the morning updating the Web site’s blog and brainstorming about the new idea I was working on for holding weddings at the farm. Around ten, Ashlee texted to let me know that she’d called Violet and found out she’d be keeping the flower shop open, even after her mom’s murder.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d told Ashlee last night that I was okay with buying my flowers at the grocery store, but really, it meant one more task I would have to take care of. Thank goodness that extra worry was now gone.

  I worked steadily for the rest of the morning, but by the time noon approached, I’d only finished part of my to-do list. The rest would have to wait until after lunch. I had plans.

  Saving my work on the computer, I grabbed my purse and hurried out to my car. As I drove into town, I thought about what I was going to order for lunch.

  After Ashlee and I had moved out of Mom’s house and into our own apartment several months ago, I’d noticed I was spending a lot less time with Mom. We tried to plan the occasional family dinner at her house, but life had a way of interrupting those plans, and one of us had to cancel more often than not. A couple of months ago, Mom and I had decided to implement a rule that we’d eat lunch together at least once a week, usually at the Breaking Bread Diner. It was our way of making sure we didn’t get too out of touch with each other.

  I took the off-ramp for downtown Blossom Valley, followed the three other cars that were driving down Main Street, and pulled into the diner’s parking lot. The lot was almost full, but I managed to find a space in the corner. I locked my car, trotted to the restaurant entrance, and stepped inside.

  The diner’s interior was decorated in a tractor theme, an homage to Blossom Valley’s agricultural heritage, which included the many pear orchards and grape vineyards that surrounded the town and lined the highway. Photographs of John Deere tractors and farmers plowing fields hung on the walls. Crisscrossed sheaves of dried wheat were artfully nailed over the pie display, although I usually found my attention drawn to the chocolate pudding and lemon meringue pies that filled the case. Shelves too high for children to reach held a collection of toy tractors, while a giant tractor wheel occupied one corner.