Zennia looked up from a cookbook. “I didn’t realize you’re a writer, Gretchen.”
“I’m not,” she said hurriedly. “I write short stories sometimes, but not for anyone else to read or anything. I used to love writing when I was a kid, before my mom . . .” Her voice trailed off.
I knew Gretchen’s mom had died when she was a teenager and her dad had worked two, even three, jobs to keep the family afloat. Gretchen had fallen in with a group of questionable kids and gotten into some trouble. She’d eventually straightened out, but she rarely talked about that period in her life.
“I’d love to read some of your work, Gretchen,” I said, “if you’re comfortable with that, of course.”
She focused on her yogurt, but I could see a tiny smile form. “Maybe.” She spooned up a mouthful of yogurt. “What were we talking about? That’s right, Violet. She was at the meetings, too. I guess she writes plays. They even put on one of her plays at the community college near where she used to live. She said the reviews were really good.”
“No kidding,” I said. “I wonder if she’ll continue that or focus completely on the flower shop.” Was writing plays her real passion, and she’d only been working at her mom’s shop to pay the bills?
Gretchen shrugged. “I don’t know, but she mentioned she was working on another play.” She stood up. “I’d better get set up for my next client. Take it easy.” We all said good-bye as she walked out.
Esther, Zennia, and I talked over the menu awhile longer before Zennia gathered her things and prepared to leave for the day. Esther decided to go for a walk, and I went down the hall to the office. All this talk about the wedding had given me the urge to call Jason. Besides, he didn’t even know what I’d discovered about Carter or my little run-in with Detective Palmer.
Thinking about the detective turned my mood somber. Maybe it was a good idea that Mom was calling her lawyer.
I shut the office door, sank into the chair, and hit Jason’s number on my cell phone.
“Hey, Dana, how’s my beautiful bride-to-be?”
“Better now that I hear your voice.”
His tone switched from jovial to concerned. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m hoping I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, as they say, but Detective Palmer asked me more questions today.”
“Not unexpected. You did find the murder victim.”
“Yes, but his questions revolved around a supposed argument another customer overheard between Bethany and me.”
Jason was silent a moment. “Supposed argument?”
“We weren’t arguing at all, not even close, but a woman heard me say a couple of things and jumped to conclusions.”
“You told that to Detective Palmer, right?”
I nodded, not that Jason could see that. “Of course, but I’m not sure he believed me.”
“Detective Palmer has to follow every lead, no matter how weak, but I’m sure he believes you. How about I take you out for dinner to take your mind off your troubles?”
“I wish I could, but I’m having a girls’ dinner with my mom and Ashlee. It should be a lot of fun. We’ll probably spend the whole time talking about the wedding.”
“Is Ashlee sad that you’re moving out soon?”
I laughed. “Are you kidding? I found her and Brittany measuring the windows in my bedroom for curtains the other day. She can’t wait to see me go.” I leaned back in the chair and put one foot on the corner of the desk. “Before I forget, I might have some juicy little information for you regarding one of Bethany’s customers.” I rehashed everything I’d discovered during my lunch break.
When I finished, Jason let out a low whistle. “If Bethany was blackmailing Carter, that would be a solid motive for killing her. But I wish you hadn’t followed him. You could’ve gotten hurt.”
I downplayed his worry. “It was the middle of the day with plenty of people around. I’m sure he didn’t spot me. Now I need to figure out who the other set of initials belongs to.”
“Or you could pass the information to Detective Palmer and let him figure it out. He is a professional.”
“I will. In fact, I’d like to think this information will help keep him from focusing on me.”
Over the phone, I heard someone talking in the background and then Jason’s muffled reply. To me, he said, “I’m waiting for a callback from Detective Palmer to get more details about the crime. I could tell him what you found out and see if he has any other suspects.”
“Thanks, but I’d like to call him myself. Show him what an upstanding citizen I am.”
“Don’t worry. He already knows. Besides, he has plenty of suspects to consider.”
I put my foot down and sat up straighter. “Like maybe Mitch? I talked to the girl at the ice cream shop today, the one who was working when Bethany was killed. She said Mitch wanted to buy Bethany out and expand his business.”
“I wasn’t talking about Mitch, but that’s interesting. I heard he wants to buy the vacant building at the end of the street that used to house the auto parts place.”
“Really? Then why would he bug Bethany about selling her half of the building?”
“No idea, unless he was weighing his options.”
“So who do you think the detective is concentrating on?”
“If it were me, Violet. Several people have seen them arguing in recent weeks.”
“I argue with Ashlee all the time, but she hasn’t pushed me to murder. Yet.”
Jason chuckled. “Good thing you’re moving out before it comes to that. Anyway, with Violet as Bethany’s only living relative in the area and the one who stands to inherit the business, I can guarantee Palmer is taking a close look at her.”
“Do you think she knew about her mom’s blackmailing habits?”
“Hard to say. Since they lived together and Violet worked for her mom, I’d be surprised if she didn’t.”
“Hmm . . . maybe,” I said. “She didn’t seem to realize the importance of that little tablet she found in her mom’s purse, though.”
“Either way, I wonder if she intends to carry on with the blackmail.”
I pictured Violet chewing on her fingernail. “She doesn’t seem the type. But I hope you’re right about Detective Palmer concentrating on her. I want him to forget all about that lady who said I was arguing with Bethany.”
“Like I said, the detective is simply being thorough. But I’d better go. I’ve got work piling up here.”
“Okay, I have a few things to finish up myself.”
We said our good-byes. I found Detective Palmer’s business card in my purse and called him, only to reach his voice mail. I left a short message asking for a callback; then I got back to my own work.
An hour and a half later, I shut down the computer, gathered my belongings, and headed out the door. As much as I was looking forward to dinner, I couldn’t quite shake a feeling of melancholy. Tonight might be the last time Mom cooked for me while I was a single woman. After that, would I still be Mom’s little girl?
Chapter 14
On the drive to Mom’s house, I thought about what Jason had said about Mitch. Why would he pester Bethany to sell the flower shop and then decide to buy a different shop? Did Bethany refuse his offer enough times that he gave up? And how would her death affect his business dealings? With Bethany dead, Violet was the most likely person to inherit the property. Could he retract his offer from the other place and try to buy the flower shop from her now?
I sighed. I had too many questions and exactly zero answers.
Ashlee’s car was parked in Mom’s driveway, so I flipped a U-turn at the next cross street and pulled to the curb in front of the light blue single-story home where Mom had lived since she and Dad were first married. I tried the front door and found it unlocked. As soon as I stepped across the threshold, I smelled a chicken roasting and realized how hungry I was.
Mom was in the kitchen, tossing a salad, while Ashlee sat on a bar stool at th
e counter.
“And then he asked for my number,” Ashlee was saying. She caught sight of me. “Finally. I thought I was going to die of starvation.”
I half turned toward the door. “In that case, I could always leave again and come back in a while.”
Ashlee practically snarled at me. “You’re such a brat.”
“Girls,” Mom said sharply.
“Sorry, Mom,” Ashlee and I said in unison. When she wasn’t looking, Ashlee stuck her tongue out at me, but I ignored her. Five seconds together in Mom’s house, and we were already acting like five-year-olds.
“What can I do to help?” I asked, if only to show my maturity.
Mom picked up a bottle of Italian salad dressing and shook it. “Would you mind setting the table while I finish the salad?”
“Consider it done.”
I went to the cupboard and pulled down three plates while Ashlee removed a nail file from her purse and started filing her thumbnail. When she made no offer to assist me, I said, “Hey, how about setting out the placemats?”
She grumbled something under her breath but dropped the file in her purse and slid off the stool. Once the plates and silverware were in place, Mom and I brought over the food, and we all sat down to eat.
Mom laid her napkin in her lap. “I’m so glad you were both available for dinner tonight. It might be a while before we get another chance to eat together.”
“No kidding,” Ashlee said. “Once Dana gets hitched, we’ll never see her again. But don’t worry. I’ll drag Brittany over here once in a while. She can even sit in Dana’s seat. It’ll almost be the same as having Dana here.”
“I’m not moving to a foreign country,” I said. “I’m not even moving out of town.”
“Once you and Jason get married, you’ll be busy setting up your life together,” Mom said. “I remember how it was with your father and me. There’s nothing like being a newlywed.”
“We’ll have dinner together again. I’ll always have time for you, Mom.” And I would. But I still felt a lump in my throat. Good grief. Why was I so emotional today?
“Knock it off with the sappy stuff,” Ashlee said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Let’s eat.”
I took a drumstick, while Mom reached for the rolls and Ashlee picked up the salad bowl. She extracted a few pieces of lettuce and a single cherry tomato before digging out all the croutons to pile on her plate.
“Save some for the rest of us,” I said.
She handed me the salad bowl. “I love croutons. Even if they are pure carbs.”
“Dana, remember that conversation we had earlier?” Mom asked.
My head snapped up. I tried to signal to Mom to stop talking, but she was busy buttering her roll. “I was able to get ahold of Harry Wilson during my afternoon break. He said there’s nothing to worry about at this point, but he’s available should the situation escalate.” So much for not mentioning anything in front of Ashlee.
“Harry Wilson? Isn’t that your lawyer?” Ashlee asked. “What’d you call him for? Is Dana in trouble?” She tossed a crouton in her mouth and chomped on it.
Mom mimed a look of apology at me. “Whoops, guess I’m not as subtle as I thought.” She set her butter knife down and looked at Ashlee. “Detective Palmer had more questions for Dana today, and I thought it prudent to consult with Harry. You can never be too careful.”
Ashlee squinted at me, as if I was a shade of nail polish she’d never seen before. “Why would the detective want to talk to you? You don’t know anything.”
“Of course I know things,” I said, feeling the need to prove to her exactly how much I knew. “I know Mitch wants Bethany’s half of the building so he can expand his ice cream business, but it sounds like Bethany wasn’t interested in selling. I also know Bethany may have been blackmailing one of her customers.” I almost added a neener-neener for good measure, then felt slightly embarrassed that I’d let my sister manipulate me so easily.
Mom picked up the salad bowl. “Blackmail? Really?”
“There might be other victims, too. Any one of them could have killed Bethany.”
“That reminds me,” Ashlee said. “I was talking to Brittany about the murder, and she said one of her friends buys flowers from that shop all the time. I bet she could tell us something about who wanted to whack Bethany.” Ashlee popped another crouton in her mouth and stuffed it in her cheek so she could keep talking. “Her name’s Lucia. She works at the drugstore. I see her all the time when I’m over there buying makeup and stuff.”
“Would she be willing to talk to you?” I asked.
Ashlee shrugged. “Why not? Everyone likes talking to me. But Lucia always was a weird one, so quiet and nerdy. You probably don’t remember her, Dana. She’s a couple of years younger than me, so I think you’d already graduated by the time she started high school. She wore glasses and was always carrying around a book.”
“What’s her last name?”
“Martinez.”
“Lucia Martinez.” As I said the name, my hands and feet started to tingle. Lucia had bought a lot of flowers from Bethany, and her initials matched those in the second column of Bethany’s ledger. Had I uncovered the identity of the other blackmail victim?
We finished our meal, and I cleared the dishes, noting the large pile of croutons that remained on Ashlee’s plate. While I shuttled back and forth from the table to the sink, I made a mental note to stop off at the drugstore tomorrow. I needed to buy new makeup for my wedding anyway, and maybe I’d luck out and find Lucia Martinez working, too. Ashlee had offered to talk to her, but I had a feeling I’d better step in and speak to her myself.
* * *
The next morning dawned cool and cloudless. I dressed in brown cargo pants and a long-sleeved work shirt with the name of Esther’s farm embroidered on the front.
When I got to the farm, I headed straight to the office to write the day’s blog, which covered tips for a better night’s sleep. After making several edits, I added pictures of the lavender bushes in the herb garden, since the scent of lavender was supposed to be relaxing. I was getting ready to post the blog to the farm’s Web site when Gordon entered the office.
He stopped at the corner of the desk. I continued typing while I waited for him to speak.
When he didn’t, I said, “Morning, Gordon. I’m just finishing today’s blog if you need to use the computer.”
He rested his fingertips on the desktop. “No, thank you. That’s not why I’m here.”
He didn’t say anything else, so I lifted my hands from the keyboard and set them in my lap, giving him my full attention. “Then what are you here for?”
“I wanted to ask you a favor.”
He paused, and I took a closer look at him. I’d swear tiny beads of sweat were forming along his hairline, but that could have been little globules of the gel he always used.
“I’d like to bring a lady friend to the wedding.”
I stared at him. “Really?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Sure, Gordon was a fairly attractive, successful guy, but it never occurred to me that he dated. I assumed he spent all of his spare time sitting at home and dreaming up ways to save money at this place. Or else he had a coin collection and spent every evening admiring his haul.
His face turned red. “I understand if it’s too late to add to the guest list, with catering requirements and seating and such.”
I waved my hand. “No, no, it’s perfectly fine. Zennia won’t care if we have one more, and there’s plenty of room.” Now that I knew Gordon had a lady friend, dare I say girlfriend, I couldn’t help pressing for information. “What’s her name?”
“Margaret,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “We met at the Knowledge Sharing Summit convention, a regional event for managers in the hospitality industry. She runs a small boutique hotel over in Mendocino. We found we have many mutual interests.”
I couldn’t help wondering what those interests were, but knowing Gordon, it was bo
und to be business related. “Wow, that’s great. Looks like love is in the air, as they say.”
Gordon grimaced. “Let’s not get carried away.” He took a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and blotted his hairline. “Thank you. I’ll let you get back to work.”
He left the office before I could ask him anything else. Good for Gordon. Maybe having a girlfriend would loosen him up a bit.
I finished posting the blog and spent the rest of the morning researching how effective pay-per-click advertising was, which Web sites I should target, and how much it would cost. When the clock struck noon, I retrieved my purse and keys, and cut through the lobby to the parking lot.
The drive into town was quick, and I soon found myself parking in front of the Prescription for Joy drugstore. Before stepping out of the car, I tried to think of what I needed to buy while I was here. Considering how old and cakey my current collection of makeup had become, I should at least pick up new mascara, eyeliner, foundation, and eye shadow. I thought about texting Ashlee for additional recommendations, but knew she’d have me looking like a Vegas showgirl, complete with glitter.
Running through the list in my head one more time, I got out of the car and went inside. The store was quiet. I glanced around to see if I could spot any employees who might fit Lucia’s description.
To my left, a woman with a reddened nose was reading the back of a box of cold medicine while a toddler pulled on her sleeve. To my right, a male clerk with silver hair was ringing up a man in a wheelchair. I could definitely rule out the clerk.
I walked farther into the store, scanning the overhead signs for the makeup section. I got momentarily distracted by a sale on leftover Halloween Oreo cookies but managed to avoid the temptation and find my way to the correct aisle. A cart full of opened boxes sat in the center of the row, and a clerk in a green vest and glasses was shelving a small collection of eye shadows. At first glance, I pegged her as a teenager, but when I took a closer look, I realized she was probably a few years older, putting her closer to Ashlee’s age. Could this be Lucia?
Marriage Is Pure Murder Page 11
