Horns? Car horns?
It had to be my father.
Trying not to whimper, I shuffled down the stairs and out on the veranda. Parked in the driveway were five vehicles with their headlights aimed at the house. Nearly blinded by the glare, I brought my hand up to shield my eyes. Bailey stood on the porch. I yelled, “What’s going on?”
“Looks like a car show. Damned fine assortment, too. That’s a Dodge Viper on the end. I’ve always wanted to see one up close.” He leaped the steps and made for the yellow car on the far left.
“Viper?” I shivered. Sounded too much like a snake to me.
The horns stopped and peace reigned. Four men, whom I took to be salesmen, stepped from their vehicles. My father climbed out of a silver something or other. I didn’t have a clue what make or model it might be, and frankly, I didn’t care.
“Well, Bretta,” said Dad, coming up on the porch. He waved his arm expansively. “What do you think?”
“Nice,” I murmured, my eyes on Bailey. I was envious of that yellow car. He caressed the upholstery with a slow, lingering touch. I watched his chest rise and fall as he sighed wistfully.
“Take your pick, daughter. You can have whichever one you want.”
Being called “daughter” was wearing on my nerves. It implied a closeness that just wasn’t there. And being offered a car only agitated me more. I didn’t want a car. I didn’t need one. But I had been gypped out of Bailey’s kiss.
Resentment and disappointment bubbled in me like Alka-Seltzer in a glass of water. Before I got carried away on an effervescent tide, I turned on my heel and went into the house.
Chapter Ten
I arrived at the flower shop Monday morning with the feeling I was running fast and furious from home. Turning down Dad’s offer of a new car hadn’t been as difficult for me as it had been for him. He couldn’t accept the fact that I didn’t want expensive gifts.
When I repeated my previous request for a heart-to-heart conversation about the past, he’d stalked into the library. I’d followed, but only to suggest that he take my room for the night. He’d replied that the sofa was good enough for him. He didn’t mind living out of a suitcase.
This morning I found his signed blank check on the carpet outside my bedroom door. A notation stated that the money was to be used for cleanup. Since he was still asleep on the sofa, I’d placed the check on the end table next to him and left for work.
I took a swig of coffee. He wasn’t getting it, and I didn’t know how to be more explicit. Fancy cars or money wasn’t going to buy my love—or my benevolence.
Footsteps coming from the alley entrance interrupted my thoughts. I turned, expecting to see Lois or Lew. But it was Evelyn who marched toward me. Frowning, I asked, “What are you doing coming in the back door?”
“You haven’t unlocked the front, and I don’t have time to wait.”
Her attitude—that what concerned her had to be of utmost importance to me—really bruised my petals. I said, “We’ve been over each and every detail of your daughter’s wedding until they’re ingrained on my brain.”
Evelyn smiled. “Let’s hope so. I’m not here about Nikki’s wedding. I want to place an order for flowers to be delivered to Oliver’s funeral. He was a gentle, thoughtful man, and I want a fitting tribute sent from me.”
She brought out her checkbook, dashed off the information, and then ripped out the slip of paper. Handing it to me, she said, “He believed in nature’s own beauty. Keep my bouquet simple but elegant.”
I shook my head in amazement. This from a woman who wanted foliage sprayed gold.
As the back door closed behind Evelyn, I looked down at the check. “Two hundred dollars?” I said aloud. “How much does she think ‘simple but elegant’ costs?”
The alley door opened again. This time it was Lois. “Hi,” she said as she came into the workroom. “Did I see Evelyn leaving? Kind of early for a rout with her, isn’t it?”
“No rout. At least, not this time.” I studied Lois. Usually she bustled in babbling about something that had happened at home before she left for work. Today her shoulders drooped; her smile trembled around the edges. Was Kayla still causing problems?
Hoping to perk Lois up, I showed her Evelyn’s check, explaining that it was for Oliver’s funeral. “Got any ideas about what would please her?”
Lois didn’t pause to think. “I’m uninspired. What’s on for today?”
We discussed the orders. Lew arrived. The phones started ringing, and our day was off to a fast start. While we worked, I kept an eye on Lois. Twice I saw her dab at her eyes. Desperate to pique her interest, I brought up the subject of Bailey and how my father had sabotaged our dinner plans.
Her bland comment, “That’s too bad,” stabbed me with anxiety. Whatever was going on with her niece really was serious if Lois didn’t have a speck of advice to give about my social life.
Lew had followed my account, and when Lois didn’t offer any wisdom or insight, he put his own spin on the situation. “You and your father are too much alike,” he said in that know-it-all tone.
I stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Whether you like it or not, you have a combination of your mother’s and father’s genes. Perhaps the things about him that annoyed your mother are annoying you. He, on the other hand, sees your mother in you. He’s trying to pacify you, maybe even make amends with her in the only way he has left.”
I asked Lois. “What do you think? Is Lew right? Do you think my father—”
Lois picked up her purse. “I have to leave for an hour.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
In a gloomy tone, Lois said, “I have a meeting with Kayla’s principal. School is out, but the problem hasn’t been resolved. I know we’re busy. I should’ve said something when I came in this morning.”
I glanced at the clock. It was after eleven. I looked at the orders that needed to be done. Some were for patients at the hospital, others for Oliver’s funeral. I made a quick decision when I saw the distress on Lois’s face.
I put two phone lines on hold. Picking up my purse, I said, “None of these deliveries have to be made right away. I’ll take you to the school.”
“You can’t do that.”
I touched her shoulder. “You’re in no shape to drive, and besides, I’m the boss. I can do as I please.”
Giving Lois a minute to compose herself, I told Lew to hold down the fort. Taking my friend’s arm, I walked her out the back door and into my car. We were silent on the way to the school. I parked in the lot and turned off the ignition.
“You don’t have to stay,” said Lois. “Noah is joining me. He’ll drop me off at the shop when this mess is cleared up.”
Noah was Lois’s husband. I was glad she wasn’t facing this problem alone. “That’s good,” I said, then grinned sheepishly. “I brought you because I wanted to, but I also had another reason. Claire Alexander graduated from River City High School in nineteen sixty-six. I thought I’d nose around.”
Lois reacted to my explanation like her old self. She snorted. “Lately my life has been topsy-turvy. Thank God I can depend on you. At least you never change.”
“That’s a compliment, right?”
Lois rolled her eyes, and we got out of the car.
Inside the school, the lingering odor of vegetable soup, sweaty bodies, and disinfectant layered the air. A bell rang. The sound triggered a rush of adolescent emotions that made my stomach flutter. For an instant I was once again that shy, unsure teenager, looking for acceptance among my peers. Irked, I shook off the image, but I was amazed that at my age, the clanging of a school bell could rouse such memories and make me feel vulnerable.
Aristotle, Mrs. Mitchell’s dog, had gone berserk when he’d caught a whiff of the roses I’d taken to her. Oliver had said, when he touched the wooden handle of his spade, “Memories of bygone years flash into focus.”
The school bell had triggered my react
ion. The roses had set Aristotle off. Had the spade stimulated a remembrance that was so important it had stayed in Oliver’s mind while he’d had his heart attack?
I left Lois at the door to the principal’s office, then wandered down the hall. River City High School showcased its students’ achievements with photos, trophies, and banners displayed on walls and in glass-fronted cabinets.
The awards were in chronological order, with the latest near the front of the building. Since information on Claire was my goal, I skipped recent decades, looking for 1966—the year she and her friends had graduated.
From the amount of pictures and awards, the class of ’66 had been outstanding in both athletics and academics. Bold captions depicted the highlights: RIVER CITY HIGH SCHOOL TRACK TEAM ENDS SEASON WITH HONORS.
Above a picture of young men in football uniforms were the words WE WERE DETERMINED, TOUGH AND FINE … ROUGH AND READY ON THE LINE. Conference champs in 1966. I grinned but kept reading and searching.
Candid photos of River City cheerleaders were next. I looked for Dana, but she wasn’t there. That’s odd, I thought, then shrugged. Perhaps she wasn’t at school the day they took the picture.
DEBATE CLUB NAILS OPPOSITION. I searched the photo for Claire but found Sonya’s name as a member, only she wasn’t in the group picture. BOTANY CLUB MEMBERS PLANT TREES—WIN CITY’S BEAUTIFICATION AWARD. All four women—Sonya, Dana, Kasey, and Claire—were named as members, but none were pictured.
Peculiar that all four girls were missing the day photos were taken. Randomly, I picked three students, who seemed to be overachievers since they were in all the snapshots. A close inspection showed that in the Botany Club photo the two guys wore short-sleeved shirts. In another they had on V-necked sweaters. A girl named Tina had gone from a brunette to a blonde. Sweaters could be added over a shirt, but I was sure Tina hadn’t gone for a dye job between photo sessions.
I meandered farther down the hall, looking in classrooms, but all were either empty or in session. Since I didn’t have a specific question in mind, I gave up and went out to my car.
Driving across town, I kept wondering why all the girls had been absent each time pictures had been taken.
It was food for thought. Since I could chomp on this morsel and not gain a pound, I gnawed away like a frustrated dieter eating a celery stick. I’d found a bit of nourishment, but it lacked substance. What I needed was a glob of pimento cheese for my stalk of celery. Translation: I needed more information.
Chapter Eleven
When I returned to the flower shop I found a pile of new orders. The work was expected, but Evelyn seated on a chair wasn’t. Before I put my purse down, I dug out an antacid tablet. The chalky, fake-fruit taste made me grimace. Lew caught my expression and sidled over.
In a low tone, he said, “I needed her help. She answered the phone and took orders while I waited on customers. It was a madhouse for a while, but she did a great job. Besides, what was I to do? I thought you would drop Lois off at the school and be right back.”
“I’m here now.” The smile I gave Evelyn was mere lip action—no warmth behind it. “Thanks for helping Lew. What can I do for you?”
“If I remember right, you said Nikki’s fresh flowers would arrive today. I want to look them over.”
This wasn’t a good idea. Flowers were shipped without water. The foliage would be limp, blossoms tight. The flowers needed to be conditioned—stems cut and put in warm water. “The delivery is running late,” I said. “I can call you after we’ve unpacked the flowers and they’ve had time to take up water.”
Evelyn leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “If you don’t mind, I’ll wait.”
I minded very much. Watching a florist struggle to get her work done isn’t a spectator sport. I tried another tactic to get her to leave. “We’re very busy. No time for chitchat.”
Evelyn gestured to the ringing telephone. “I’m well aware of that. Shall I get it?”
“No thanks.” I picked up the receiver. “The Flower Shop. Bretta speaking.”
“I just talked to Mrs. Mitchell to see if she knew when Claire’s funeral service would be, and she says you’re asking questions about Claire.”
“Dana?”
“Why can’t you leave things alone? Don’t tarnish Claire’s memory.”
“Tarnish it with what? We all have areas in our life we’re not proud of. Are you thinking about a specific event?”
“I shouldn’t have called,” she said, gulping back a sob. “A wedding and a funeral. I’m not thinking straight.”
I tried a soft, subtle approach. “Dana, something is bothering you. I’m trying to help. Tell me what it is. It often helps to talk to a stranger, someone unbiased, unconnected to the present circumstances.”
“Time’s supposed to blur the memories, not make them clearer. We were so young and so full of—I have to go. My cakes are burning.”
“Dana, wait. Don’t—” But she’d already hung up. I replaced the receiver and turned to find Evelyn smiling.
She nodded to the deliveryman who was unloading four big boxes from the alley. “My daughter’s flowers have arrived,” she said, clasping her hands. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
God, but this woman was exasperating.
* * *
The day went down as the longest on record with no time for food to soften the edges. It was one o’clock before Lois came back to work. With Evelyn at our elbows, we didn’t do much talking. It was three before the wedding flowers were processed and the mother of the bride had departed. The day’s orders were finished and delivered around four o’clock.
By the time we’d cleaned the shop and I’d locked the doors and counted out the cash drawer, it was after five. The others had already gone. I schlepped out to my car with my tail dragging, only to find Sonya waiting. She didn’t waste time with niceties.
“You’ve lost your focus, Bretta. The Montgomery wedding should be your prime objective. I understand from Dana that you’re asking questions about Claire. Leave it be.”
“She was murdered.”
Sonya winced but didn’t lose momentum. “That isn’t your problem.”
“Then why did she call me? Why didn’t she call you or Dana or Kasey? After all, the three of you were her friends.”
“We don’t have your reputation for amateur detecting. But in this case, you should leave the investigation to the professionals. Your skill as a florist is on the line. Surely you don’t want any unfavorable comments about your work?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Sonya peered at me. “Explain that statement.”
“You came all the way over here to put me in my place, so your mind isn’t entirely on the wedding either.” I gave her a tight smile. “Why are you really here? Is it because I might be close to discovering what happened all those years ago?”
Of course, I didn’t know jack. I was bluffing. Dana’s words “We were so young and full of—” were fresh in my mind. I used that as the basis for my bamboozling.
Sonya’s eyes narrowed. Her lips thinned into a grim line. I’d pricked her composure, but with her experience at placating neurotic brides, Sonya had all the stress-reducing tools close at hand.
She flashed me a firm smile. “This conversation is going nowhere. Let’s start over. I understand the flowers have arrived and are absolutely gorgeous. Evelyn is very pleased.”
“That’s good, because at this late date, there’s not much we can do.”
Sonya glanced at her watch. “And speaking of late, I really must be going.” She went around to the driver’s side of her car, but before she got in, she looked back at me. “Claire’s death is a tragedy, but it can’t interfere with our obligation to Evelyn and her daughter. Nikki deserves the best because that’s what her mother is buying.”
“Have you met Nikki?”
“No, but I’m looking forward to it. From her picture she’s a lovely young woman. Working with a beautiful bride
makes my job and yours easier. Anything we do will only enhance the final picture.”
“That reminds me. I was at the high school this morning, and I saw that you were a member of the Debate Club in nineteen sixty-six. But you weren’t in the picture of the team. And Dana wasn’t in the picture of the cheerleaders. All four of you belonged to the Botany Club, but none of you were in the photo. What’s the deal? Mass influenza?”
“That’s right,” snapped Sonya. Without saying good-bye, she got into her car and drove off.
I smacked my hand against my forehead. “Dummy!” I’d given her an easy out.
Boy, this questioning thing really sucked. If I was too blunt, I hacked people off. If I was too subtle, I didn’t get anywhere. I had to find a happy medium, maybe adopt my own persona. With Sid, a suspect knew exactly where he stood if he didn’t come across with the truth.
I climbed into my car. I didn’t want to be as belligerent as Sid, and besides, I didn’t have a badge to back me. Carl had switched between the direct method and the “I’m your buddy” approach. Both had worked for him. He’d tried to teach me how to recognize which one to use in different situations. I’d practiced interrogating him at our kitchen table or in bed, but that usually ended in a strip search with the lesson abandoned for more important activities.
I reached for the ignition but didn’t turn the key. Bailey’s way had been to fabricate giant tales that might elicit an emotional response. Making up all that stuff took too much brainpower. If I got befuddled, I’d never keep the facts straight.
I licked my lips. He’d also held my hand, stared deep into my eyes, and kissed me. Not exactly a formula he could employ every time he needed answers, but he’d sure gotten my attention.
“Are you okay?”
I jerked upright at the sound of Bailey’s voice. Turning, I saw him leaning against my car. “I’m … uh … fine. What are you doing here?”
“Are you going to ask me that each time I see you?”
I shook my head. “Is something wrong?”
“Questions … questions. You sure have a bunch.”
A Deadly Bouquet Page 10
