Marriage Is Pure Murder

by Staci McLaughlin

  He scooted his chair closer. “Tell me anyway. You never know what’s important.”

  “When I was talking to Esther this afternoon, I recalled that she’d actually known Bethany for a long time. You remember how they were both on that rejuvenation committee?”

  Jason put a hand over his mouth, but he couldn’t quite hide the smirk. “Who could forget that albino alligator you painted on the pet store window?”

  “It was a cat,” I huffed. “Anyway, Esther told me Bethany was a bit of a snoop. Loved to worm everyone’s deep dark secrets out of them for her own personal pleasure.”

  Jason rubbed his goatee. “Are you thinking she was killed when she found out something she shouldn’t have?”

  “Maybe. It’s really the only thing I’ve heard about her that could possibly provide a motive.” Molly finally brought the ball back over, and I tossed it across the lawn again. She ran after it. “Although when I say it out loud, it seems unlikely. If someone is harboring a horrible secret worth killing over, they wouldn’t blurt it out to Bethany simply because she asked. When I was talking to her, she tried to ask me how many secrets you knew about the people in town, but I didn’t take the bait.”

  “Still, you might be on to something. I interviewed several owners and employees of nearby businesses and was met with cool responses from more than a few. I got the impression they weren’t crazy about Bethany but didn’t want to say so. I bet they’re more forthcoming with Detective Palmer.”

  We watched Molly play for a few more minutes. Eventually, she flopped down in the grass, panting. I took that as a signal she was done playing and stood up. Jason followed me inside, with Molly trailing slowly behind. I petted her a few more times; then we went back to Jason’s side of the duplex.

  “Would you like a drink?” Jason asked once we were inside.

  “Thanks, but I need to get going. I have work in the morning.”

  Jason took my hand and pulled me over to where he stood. I gazed into his warm green eyes and felt a swirl of excitement.

  “You sure?” he asked. He leaned down and kissed me.

  When we separated, I said, “Maybe not all that sure, but I should go. Work starts early.”

  He gave a slight bow. “As you wish, milady.”

  “You should enjoy your solitude. I’ll be moving in pretty soon, and then you’ll never get rid of me.”

  “I wouldn’t want to.”

  He walked me to my car, gave me another kiss, and then watched as I drove away. A few minutes later, I parked in my assigned spot next to Ashlee’s salsa red Camaro and climbed the outside stairs to our apartment.

  When I got inside, I found Ashlee firmly ensconced on the living room couch. She was staring at the television and her favorite reality show, which seemed to mostly consist of twenty-somethings drinking too much and acting stupidly.

  I closed the door a little harder than was necessary. The bang jolted her from her hypnotic state.

  “Hey, Dana, you totally missed it. Some chick got drunk and climbed on a table to dance, only she fell on this guy who was drinking a beer, and that guy fell backward and knocked over some other guy, who fell in a fish tank.”

  “Gee, I’ll have to catch that episode in rerun,” I said, adding a healthy dose of sarcasm to my tone. I dropped my purse in a chair and then slipped off my shoes before placing them in the hall closet.

  “No need. I can rewind it for you.”

  I held back a sigh. Whoever had invented the DVR, with its ability to rewind live television, really hadn’t thought through the possible consequences.

  “Is this what you did all night?” I asked. “Watched drunk people fall down?”

  “No, I went to dinner with that guy Logan, the one I told you about, but he has to get up early for work, so we didn’t stay out late. Now watch.”

  Ashlee scrolled back to the start of the scene and played it for me. I paid partial attention to the show as I made my way over to the couch and sat down. She froze the playback to the spot where the second guy was about to fall over.

  “Look at his face,” she said gleefully. “His mouth is totally hanging open. He has no idea what’s happening.” She pushed play again, and we watched the rest of the scene unfold. I had to admit it was kind of funny, though I felt bad for the fish when the guy landed in their tank.

  Ashlee paused the TV again and pointed at the screen. “Yuck, did you see that chick’s shoes?”

  I tried to find which pair had made her stop the recording, but they all looked perfectly acceptable to me. “There’s nothing wrong with the shoes,” I said, “but that reminds me I need to check with you about the wedding.”

  Ashlee turned to me, and her face lit up. “I got this awesome idea today for my bridesmaid’s dress. I could cut a slit in the skirt—”

  I held up a hand. “Don’t even think about it.” She stuck her bottom lip out. “Where’s the sex appeal? The dress doesn’t even show off my cleavage. Makes me feel like a nun.”

  A nun in a bridesmaid’s dress? “It’s a wedding, not a cocktail party. Don’t alter the dress.”

  “Fine. It’s your stupid day.”

  “Keep that in mind.” I was starting to see how brides turned into bridezillas. Maybe they all had sisters like Ashlee. “I wanted to make sure you have matching shoes. I didn’t even think to ask earlier.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve got at least ten pairs I could use. You know, it’s almost too bad Brittany’s moving in. I could turn your bedroom into a giant closet.”

  “I bet Brittany will let you borrow her clothes.”

  Ashlee smacked her lips together. “You’re right. I’m, like, doubling my wardrobe this way, and it won’t cost me a thing.”

  I rose from the couch. “Since the shoe question is settled, I’m off to bed. See you in the morning.”

  “See ya.” Ashlee returned to the TV, where two men were bumping chests, clearly on their way to a fight. Why did my sister watch these shows?

  I went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. After I put on my pajamas, I crawled under the covers, running through my mental to-do list for tomorrow. Everything on the list was the usual assortment of work items and chores to do at the apartment, nothing out of the ordinary.

  Nothing, that is, except my meeting with Violet. I had a feeling that would be anything but ordinary.

  Chapter 11

  The next morning, I arrived at the farm half an hour earlier than normal. I wasn’t sure how long my meeting with Violet would run, and I wanted to get a head start on my workday in case I needed to make up any extra time if our meeting ran over.

  On my way past the chicken coop, I noticed the empty basket was hanging on the hook, which meant Esther hadn’t been out yet to collect the morning eggs. Might as well start my day mingling with the chickens. I grabbed the basket, unlatched the door, and let myself into the coop.

  Berta, the largest and most outspoken of the chickens, watched me as I moved from box to box to collect the eggs. I could hear slightly threatening clucking noises coming from her direction, but at least she didn’t try to peck me like she usually did, most likely because I skipped right over her nest. When I finished my rounds and walked out the door, Berta emitted a loud squawk at my retreating back.

  I waved over my shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” She probably wouldn’t see me tomorrow, since Esther almost always collected the eggs, but I had to let that chicken know who was in charge.

  I took the basket of eggs into the farmhouse’s kitchen, where Zennia was chopping onions at the counter. I heaved the basket up next to where she was working, grabbing one egg as it threatened to roll off the top of the brimming basket. “I hope you were planning to serve omelets this morning, because the chickens produced way more eggs than usual.”

  Zennia’s eyes widened when she saw the pile. “Must be that new organic feed I started them on. Well, I’m sure I’ll find a use for all the eggs. I just need to get creative.”

  “You c
ould always make egg salad sandwiches or deviled eggs for lunch,” I suggested as I went to the sink to wash my hands. “With low-fat mayonnaise, of course.”

  “Not a bad idea.” Zennia set down her knife. “Speaking of deviled eggs, I wanted to go over your wedding menu so I can make sure I’m not leaving out any of your favorite appetizers. We only have a few days left, and I’ll need time for grocery shopping.”

  “Sure. What time works for you?”

  “Let’s meet around three, right before I leave for the day.”

  I dried my hands and refolded the towel before setting it on the counter. “See you at three.” I grabbed a banana out of the ever-present fruit bowl and went down the hall to fire up the computer.

  I was knee-deep in marketing work when Gretchen, our masseuse, came into the office. With her short black hair and nose ring, she added a trendiness to Esther’s place that had been missing before, though I was fairly sure the nose ring gave Gordon an ulcer.

  “Dana,” she said, sitting down in the guest chair. “I just heard about what happened.”

  With my thoughts on discounts and increasing guest totals, it took me a moment to figure out what she was talking about. “You mean with Bethany?”

  She leaned forward. “Is that who owned the flower shop? Did you really find her body?”

  Considering Gretchen spent most of her workday in the spa, our paths rarely crossed, and I wasn’t surprised she was only now hearing that I was the one who’d discovered Bethany.

  “Yes, in the back room.”

  She blanched. “Wow. That must have been rough.”

  I nodded. “It was definitely a shock.”

  “And so terrible, too. I’ve never been in the flower shop, but I’ve passed it plenty of times on my way to the ice cream parlor. The lady inside would always wave at me. Was that Bethany?”

  “Most likely, unless you saw her daughter, Violet. She’s the only other person who works there.” I felt a sadness settle over me and changed the subject. “So you like the ice cream at Get the Scoop?”

  “I used to love the pralines and cream, but the last couple of times I ordered it, I noticed it tasted funny. Maybe the guy changed his recipe. Or it’s the weather. Ice cream never tastes as good on a cold day.”

  I laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. Ice cream always tastes good to me.”

  “I switched to chocolate chip, which is almost as good.” Gretchen stood up. “Anyway, I’d better get back to work. I only stopped in to make sure you’re doing okay.”

  “I’m fine. Thanks for checking.”

  She left, and I tried to concentrate on my work. I managed to keep myself busy with Web site duties and other marketing odd jobs for the rest of the morning.

  As soon as noon hit, I drove to town for my meeting with Violet. I tried to park in front of her shop, but every spot on the block was taken, which was a rare occurrence. I parked on the next block and walked back.

  On the way past Get the Scoop, I glanced in the window, wondering if they might be having a giant ice cream sale, but the place was deserted. Why on earth were there so many cars here, then?

  I pushed open the door to Don’t Dilly-Dahlia and got my answer. At least a dozen people, mostly women, milled around the store. I saw a few customers perusing the ready-made bouquets or studying the coastal photos on the walls, but most didn’t seem particularly interested in buying anything.

  Violet stood behind the counter, watching the crowd and gnawing on her fingernails. I made my way over to her.

  “Is this still a good time for our appointment?” I asked. What little conversation there had been in the shop vanished as soon as I spoke. I felt a dozen sets of eyes fasten on me.

  Violet dropped her hand and gave me a curt nod. “Now is the perfect time.” She picked up a pen and tapped it on a vase of carnations like she wanted to quiet down a crowd before a big speech, never mind that the group was already silent.

  “I’m sorry, everyone,” she said. “I’m afraid I have to close the shop for an appointment. If you would like to purchase anything, please make your way to the register. Otherwise, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  General shuffling and mumbling broke out as people moved toward the door. I stepped to the side of the counter in case anyone wanted to buy flowers, but no one did. Within thirty seconds, the shop had emptied out, and Violet and I found ourselves alone.

  “Has it been like this all morning?” I asked.

  She came out from behind the counter, walked to the door, and flipped the Open sign to Closed. “Yes, and I’m absolutely disgusted. You wouldn’t believe how many people I had to chase away from the curtain that leads to the back room. They were trying to get a peek at where my mother died, like this is some kind of freak show. It’s much worse today than yesterday.”

  “Maybe you should close the shop for a few days until interest dies down.”

  “Then people will think I can’t handle my mom’s death. Or that I’m incapable of running the business.” She chewed on another nail. “No, I need to ride this out, whether I want to or not.”

  “At least you’ve been working here a couple of years, so that should help. I imagine you already know everything you need to about the flower business.”

  Violet ran a hand through her long brown hair and sighed. “Not everything. I mostly took care of deliveries and filled the small orders. Mom’s the one who handled the major sales and ran the business end. But like I said yesterday, she always took excellent notes, so I’m sure I can figure it out.” As if to reassure herself, she pulled out the ledger I’d seen Bethany use and opened it.

  I leaned on the counter and tried to read the ledger upside down but couldn’t. “Are you the only employee?” I asked. “There’s no one else who can help?”

  “Nope, it’s just me. Mom always had a steady stream of customers, but I wouldn’t say business was booming. Between the two of us, we easily managed all the orders. I suggested to her a while back that we could sell other items and expand the business, but Mom was too set in her ways.” Violet riffled through the pages of the ledger until she stopped at one. “Let’s talk about your flowers.”

  We spent a few minutes hashing out the options until I’d decided on the alstroemeria to replace the delphiniums in my bouquet. She jotted down notes, promised she’d have no problems supplying the new flowers, and then closed the ledger.

  As she slid it forward on the counter, presumably to move it out of the way, a corner caught on the spirals of a small tablet that had been tucked next to the cash register. The tablet shot forward and fell to the floor at my feet.

  I bent down to retrieve it and felt the cell phone in my back pocket inch up, as if it might pop out the top of my pocket. I grabbed my phone before it could, set it on the counter, and retrieved the tablet. Violet accepted it with a thanks and frowned at it.

  “I found this stuck inside the lining of Mom’s purse last night when I was rooting around for her car keys,” she said. “It must have slipped through a tear in the lining.”

  “What’s in it?” I asked.

  “Hardly anything.” Violet flipped open the little tablet and held the page toward me. “All of the pages are blank except this one.”

  The page was divided into two columns. The heading on the left column read, “CH,” and the other heading read, “LM.” A series of numbers was listed in the first column, mostly in the hundreds, with the numbers gradually increasing. The column under “LM” was blank.

  I looked at Violet. “What do you think the letters mean? Or the numbers?”

  “I’m guessing the letters are initials of Mom’s customers and the numbers are payments. Mom must have been recording their payments in this notebook for some reason.”

  I cocked my head. “If your mom was as meticulous about taking notes as you say, I would expect her to keep all customer information in a single ledger. Having two sets of payment records is kind of risky.”

  “Since it was in her purse, maybe the
customers had given her money when she wasn’t at the store,” Violet said. “These might be friends who paid her when they were visiting her at home or something, and then she transferred the information to her ledger the next time she was in the shop.”

  “Hmm . . . maybe.” Her idea didn’t make a whole lot of sense. “Have you compared the initials to the customers listed in her regular ledger?”

  Violet tucked her hair behind one ear. “I haven’t had the chance yet. I’ll do it later. Frankly, I’m not too worried about it.”

  I dropped the subject. She already had enough to deal with, and here I was pestering her about some little tablet she’d found that might prove completely unimportant. “Okay, well, I’m glad everything is in order, but please let me know if there’s anything you need from me.”

  With a nod to Violet, I headed to the door. Out on the street, an older-model car that had seen better days backfired with a loud bang. I glanced back at Violet and saw her duck behind the counter. Almost immediately, her head rose back into view.

  She gave me a sheepish look. “For a minute there, I thought that was a gunshot.”

  I returned to the counter. “It certainly sounded like one. I don’t blame you for ducking down, not after what happened to your mom.”

  “I told my mom we didn’t need that gun.”

  It took me a second to realize what she was saying. “Wait, your mom was killed with her own gun?”

  Violet nodded. “She’d had it for years. Said she didn’t always feel safe working in the evenings, especially in the winter when it gets dark so early. Of course, she never had to use it, not once.”

  “Where did she keep it?” Had her killer known she had a gun?

  “In the back room. On a shelf behind a couple of pots.”

  “That doesn’t sound very secure.”

  Violet gave me a sharp look. “Hardly anyone ever goes back there, so it’s not like every customer who walks in here has access to the gun.”

  “Huh, okay. It’s just that I was in the back room yesterday.” Sure, I hadn’t noticed the gun behind the pots, but it still seemed unsafe to leave it out in the open.