by Pyper James
Like most of the houses on the street, the last house was equally as charming and equally as well appointed. The lawn was manicured, and the mailbox was beautifully trimmed with filigree ironwork. Colorful perennials grew between the neatly-trimmed shrubs, and the number of the house was painted on the top stair riser. Bo climbed the front porch stairs in hopes that this neighbor would have helpful information.
After ringing the doorbell, Deputy Gathright waited for a reply. Considering that so many of the neighbors were elderly, Gathright didn’t quickly lose patience when no one immediately replied. Bo waited a minute or so and then rang the bell again, followed by a quick knock.
“Hold your horses, I’m coming!”
Gathright was glad whoever lived there was home. He didn’t want to have to double-back to too many houses.
Pearl Nicholson scooted to the door. She wasn’t as swift in her response as she had been, but Pearl got on just fine.
“Hello, may I help you?”
Seeing the police at her door any other time would have been quite a surprise. Considering what happened down the street, Pearl wasn’t nearly as surprised as she should have been. When she looked up into the deputy’s face, she recognized him from the day before; the day Princeton Wyatt was killed.
“Ma’am, if you have a few minutes, I’d like to talk to you about your neighbor, Mr. Wyatt.”
Pearl let the young man into the house and ushered him into the study.
“Ma’am,” Deputy Gathright began.
“The name is Pearl, Pearl Nicholson.” Pearl was a small lady, especially in comparison to Deputy Gathright. Her silver-gray hair was cut short, framing her seasoned face Her blue eyes still penetrated through, even though her skin had lost much of its luster. Despite her age, Pearl still got up every morning, got dressed, and put on make-up. Today’s lipstick choice was a matte pink to her thin lips.
“Ms. Nicholson, did you know Mr. Wyatt?”
“Indeed,” Pearl replied. “I’ve lived in this neighborhood for the past 40 years. I think I know everybody on the block.”
“I’m sure you heard about Mr. Wyatt’s untimely death.”
“I did, poor Princeton,” Pearl replied as she folded her hands in her lap. The glint that had been in her eye faded as she continued.
“When you get as old as Princeton and I were, you know you have lived more years than you have left. Although no one looks forward to the end, you know it’s coming from health problems or passing away in your sleep.”
Pearl wiped her sallow cheeks although no tear had fallen.
“What you don’t expect is someone coming into the sanctity of your home and taking your life.”
Bo was tired, but he also didn’t like seeing Ms. Pearl upset. He wanted to be respectful while not putting her under any unnecessary duress. Bo also wanted to get this done.
“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Mr. Wyatt?”
For the first time since their interview started, Pearl seemed uncomfortable with the question, so much so that she fell quiet.
“Everything alright, Ms. Nicholson,” Deputy Gathright asked after a pregnant pause.
“No one leaves this world without offending someone or making someone angry. It’s not always intentional and you don’t always know you have offended. It is inevitable.”
What Ms. Nicholson said made sense, but the information wasn’t helping with the case.
“Can you think of anyone, anyone who would have done something like that?”
“I don’t know anyone with that cold of a heart.”
“Well, all you can tell me is what you know, Ms. Nicholson. I appreciate your time.
Deputy Gathright stood up and Pearl followed.
“I wish I could have been more helpful, deputy.”
“If you think of anything else, anything at all, please call me at the police station.
“I will,” Pearl replied. “If I think of anything else.”
Bo knew Sheriff Harper was going to be disappointed with what little the deputy learned interviewing the witnesses. But, what else could he do?
“It worked!”
“You’re on the case,” Winifred asked.
“We most certainly are,” Vivica chimed.
“We? Have you seen my belly?”
“I have,” Vivica agreed. “But I can’t do this without you, Winnie.”
“How am I going to help you,” Winnie whined. “My back aches, my ankles are swollen and I’m tired, Vivica. I’m tired all the time.”
“I know you are, Winnie, but a lot of what can help me is not physical. I just need the aid of your beautifully brilliant mind.”
“Well, since you put it that way, what’s the plan?”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure,” Vivica admitted. “Johnathan and I didn’t get into the specifics.”
“What did you get into?” Winifred teased.
“Nothing like what you’re thinking,” Vivica defended. “I really want to find out who Princeton Wyatt was, who he really was.”
“That I can help with. They call it the internet,” Winifred replied.
“If you can do that, we could be well on our way to breaking this case,” Vivica speculated.
“I’m on it!
“Tell me you found something,” Sheriff Harper said as Gathright entered the office.
Bo stomped to his desk and sat down hard in the chair.
“Not much to speak of,” Gathright replied. “Most of the neighbors were home. There were only a few that weren’t. Of those I spoke to, they all pretty much had the same things to say about Mr. Wyatt – he was kind, wouldn’t hurt a fly and had no known enemies.”
Harper wasn’t surprised. Most people would have the same things to say about their neighbors.
“We just have to keep at it then” Harper encouraged. “Somebody knows something.
When the office door opened unexpectedly, both officers looked up.
“Coroner Mitchell,” Harper greeted, standing and shaking Brown’s hand. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“I contacted poison control and asked them to put a rush on things.”
“Please tell me you have good news,” Harper replied. “At this point, I’ll take any news.”
“Nerium oleander,” Brown announced.
“Ne who,” Bo asked, confused by what the doctor said.
“Nerium oleander,” Brown repeated. “The poison used to kill Princeton Wyatt was made from the oleander plant.”
“Wow,” Harper replied. “Does it grow here? Is it common?”
“It absolutely can,” Coroner Mitchell replied. “Most people plant the flower because of the beautiful coloring as well as its versatility. The oleander can grow as large as a hedge. The answers to your questions, then are yes and yes.”
Brown Mitchell was always fond of imparting knowledge when he could.
“But the pretty oleander plant can be quite deadly. According to the information I was able to find in my research, people who have eaten honey from a bee that visited the oleander plant, have become gravely ill.”
“That’s powerful,” Gathright replied.
“It most certainly is,” Mitchell agreed.
“The plant has a very bitter taste, which is why I suspect the killer decided to inject rather than have the victim ingest.”
“Okay, this is great,” Harper exclaimed. “If we find out who is growing the deadly plant, that may point us to our suspect.”
“It could be a start,” Mitchell advised.
“Well I’ll take a start over what we have now,” Harper replied. “Thanks for dropping by Brown! You have made my day!”
“Hey Brown, before you go,” Gathright interjected. “Any hits on the partial fingerprint?”
“With that, the news is not good or bad, just delayed. I promise as soon as I know anything, I will let you guys in on it.”
“Thanks, Brown.”
“No problem. I’ll talk to you guys later.”
Chapter Eight
Although Vivica would have liked to spend her days aiding in the resolution of the Wyatt homicide, the Black Orchid Flower Shop still had to be managed. Sure, it was a bike-run delivery service at present, but Vivica didn’t intend for it to stay that way. Scouting buildings and looking at real estate proved challenging. There were a few locations she found that would be ideal, but something about the storefronts themselves turned Vivica off. Vivica hadn’t fully decided how big or how small a store she wanted, whether she would grow some plants on sight, the number of employees to work in the store, displays, and on and on. Her idea of an enjoyable time was not haggling about square footage and interior reconstruction. Some might say Vivica wanted to take the easy way, and that might have been true. Still, she didn’t want to rush into selecting her store, spending her inheritance, and then regretting her decision later.
But that didn’t stop the phones from ringing for deliveries. Her business was picking up and Vivica had her hands full. Aunt Mildred stepped in when she could, taking phone calls and helping in the garden, but it was still a lot of work. Despite that fact, Vivica was enjoying it. When customers received their bouquets or baskets of fresh picked, home grown flowers, they were genuinely pleased. Vivica’s hard work was paying off. But there had also been calls for delivery out of curiosity. Some people wanted to see what the “person of interest” looked like. Although Sheriff Harper believed she had nothing to do with it, there was no press conference or newspaper article disassociating Vivica from the crime. This was Dahlonega, a classic small town. If you wanted the news of the day, you talked to a neighbor or convened at the local restaurant. They heard from the rumor mill that Vivica Meadows of The Black Orchid Flower Shop was there when Mr. Wyatt’s body was found, and they were curious.
Although Vivica couldn’t always tell it was that kind of call when the delivery was scheduled, once she arrived, it became crystal clear whether they were interested in the flowers or more interested in what happened to Princeton Wyatt. The curious deliveries did a lot of staring; sizing her up, seeing if she really could have done such a horrible thing. Most didn’t ask direct questions, but a few of them did.
“You’re going to need help Vivica, if you’re going to keep this up,” Aunt Mildred said over a late supper. Vivica yawned and stretched, trying to stay awake to finish the meal. She had aches and pains in places she’d never had them before. All the biking and picking flowers took a physical toil even on her spry, fit body.
“I was hoping that after Winnie has the baby, she can help,” Vivica answered yawning again.
“You don’t know when that baby is coming,” Mildred replied. “And once the baby gets here, Winifred is going to need at least six weeks recovery time. Not only will she have a new baby, but she has the other boys and her husband.”
“I know,” Vivica answered, “but I’ve been gone so long. I don’t really know a lot of the people in town, with the exception of Johnathan and Cindy Rose.” That last part Vivica mumbled as the mentioning of Cindy Rose’s name left a bitter aftertaste in Vivica’s mouth. Johnathan already has a job. And even if he didn’t, I can’t see him riding a bike with a basket full of flowers.”
“That would be a sight, wouldn’t it,” Mildred chuckled.
“It certainly would,” Vivica laughed.
“Well, dear, you’re going to have to get to know them. You are wearing yourself out. You won’t be able to keep up this pace too much longer.”
Her aunt was right. She did need help but where to start?
“There’s no way I can take orders, make deliveries, interview for help and work on the Wyatt case at the same time,” Vivica moaned. “No way…”
“Wait, what? Mildred asked.
Vivica realized she slipped with that last part.
“Oh, um, you know, managing everything with the business. You’re so good at it auntie; successfully running your own business for years, but me? I don’t have a clue about a lot of this stuff, let alone looking for qualities and characteristics essential in hiring staff.”
The words tumbled over each other as they fell from Vivica’s lips. It was like speed reading only talking.
“Vivica Lynn Meadows!” Mildred bellowed.
Vivica shrunk, pulling her head down and rested it on her chest. She looked up at her aunt knowing anytime Auntie Mildred used Vivica’s full government, Mildred wasn’t buying whatever Vivica was selling.
“Did I fail to mention I was helping the police department on the Wyatt case,” Vivica feebly inquired.
“That you did, missy,” Mildred replied, putting both hands on her hips. “Why on earth would you do such a thing?”
Vivica knew better than to respond. It wasn’t like Mildred was actually talking to her.
“Of all the hair-brained, cockamamie…” Mildred muttered. Again, Vivica remained silent. It was safest that way. Removing her hands from her hips, Mildred leaned on the counter; taking a moment to breathe and compose herself. Vivica didn’t take the commentary seriously. There was no question her aunt loved her and there was also no question that sometimes Vivica did cockamamie and hair-brained things.
“Let me rephrase,” Mildred said as she turned around to face her niece again. Still shrinking, Vivica looked up under hooded eyes.
“Why on earth would you do something like that?”
Mildred was doing her best to be reasonable, but she still spoke through clenched teeth.
“Auntie, I know the idea of working with the police sounds scatterbrained, but it’s the only way to clear my name,” Vivica reasoned.
She would have liked to continue arguing with her niece; talk some sense into Vivica. However, what Vivica said made perfect sense. Mildred wasn’t oblivious to the whispers and rumors. People were not always kind or considerate when gossiping. They didn’t keep from whispering in Mildred’s presence because of who Vivica was to her. Mildred fully suspected some of the locals whispered extra loudly to make sure Mildred heard.
“I wish I could say I didn’t understand,” Mildred began. “I do. But that doesn’t mean chasing a killer is any less dangerous because the reason you’re doing it makes sense.”
“I know, Auntie. But what real choice do I have? Leave it up to Bo to figure this out?”
Vivica covered her mouth trying to suppress the giggle desperate to get out. Mildred saw the struggle and tried to suppress her own. Neither woman was successful and the two fell out, laughing at Bo Gathright’s expense.
“Poor Bo,” Mildred chuckled as she tried to pull herself together. “He does try,” she added.
“I know he does, auntie. But I need to take my fate into my own hands. I can’t let someone else’s successes or failures determine what happens to me. I need this. It’s a part of the process I think of discovering my purpose and trying to stand on my own two feet. I don’t want to do that behind bars.” Vivica continued.
“That won’t happen,” Mildred scoffed.
“You can’t say that for sure,” Vivica warned. “In the absence of another viable suspect, who remains suspect number one?”
Mildred stared at her niece unwaveringly.
“Promise me you’ll be careful, Vivica.”
“I promise, I will.”
Simon Spruce meandered a short distance down Remington Court, as he did most days. The sky was a lovely shade of cornflower blue, speckled with billowy clouds that floated so effortlessly in the gentle breeze. Simon could have sworn he heard bluebirds singing as he made his way to Pearl’s house. There was an extra bounce in Simon’s step, even though the additional spunk was supported by a brass-handled walking cane. Yellow tape blowing in the wind caught Simon’s eye. He’d heard about Princeton’s unfortunate situation just as most if not all of Dahlonega had. The yellow tape stuck out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of Remington Court. Such a nice street, Simon thought as he mounted the stairs to Pearl’s. Like many of the folks in his neighborhood, Simon had been a resident of Dahlonega
all his life and lived on Remington Court the entire time. Simon was fortunate to live in his childhood home. Not too many people could say that.
Simon adjusted the lapels of his light tweed jacket and smoothed out his collar. With a double tap on the doorbell, Simon waited for Pearl to answer.
“Coming,” Pearl sang from the other side of the door. The smile that encroached upon Simon’s face showed off all his pearly whites, even if they were dentures. The sound of Pearl’s voice was what he looked forward to just about as much as seeing her.
Pearl stopped short of opening the door, taking one final look in the hallway mirror. Running her fingers over the namesake necklace she wore, Pearl puckered her lips, making sure the mauve lipstick she chose to compliment her outfit was correctly applied. Satisfied, Pearl sashayed the few remaining steps and opened the door.
“Simon! What a magnificent surprise!”
Pearl stepped to the side so Simon could enter. He stopped short of walking passed her; instead, facing her and broadening the wide smile he already wore.
“You look as beautiful as you always do,” Simon cooed.
“Flatterer,” Pearl chimed. Her smile mimicked his as Simon leaned in for a polite kiss on Pearl’s cheek.
Pearl’s eyes closed when he felt the warmness to her cheek that only a kiss from Simon could provide. As he stood back, Pearl extended her hand, ushering Simon into the home. Closing the door, Pearl followed Simon into the parlor. There were two identical high back chairs, that the two were fond of sitting in. Simon sat in the one on the left.
A distinct whistling came from the kitchen.
“The tea’s ready,” Pearl said, making sure Simon was comfortably seated before leaving the room. Pearl too had a pep in her step as she made her way to the kitchen. She brewed Simon’s favorite chamomile and mint tea. The smell of the warm concoction as she poured the tea into her favorite tea cups pleasantly filled Pearl’s nostrils. Grabbing the silver tray from the counter, Pearl loaded the teacups, milk, and cubed sugar, along with a small plate of crumpets she made especially for the occasion. This was Pearl’s favorite time of day, when Simon visited.
