Read Between the Tines

by Susan Sleeman

  Mitch nodded and slowly, very slowly, wound down ending with a grin.

  Curling a finger, I beckoned Daisy, who trudged our way. Her ginormous green feet flopped on the needle-covered ground, sending debris jumping when they hit. In my opinion, seeing a dejected and utterly humiliated pickle was one of the worst sights in the world.

  Mitch, however, seemed not to care. He attacked the moment she arrived. "Okay, so now we know why you were here." He paused as if fighting the grin capturing his lips. "What happened next?"

  Daisy flushed crimson. "The marketing manager at Pacific Pickles—she's my boss—already warned me once about messing up the suit, so I set the head ever so carefully on the ground and then opened up the front." She tugged at the seam running the length of the suit. "See how there are Velcro tabs all the way down? It takes forever to get in and out of this thing, but I just had to adjust it, because it was starting to. . .well, never mind. I got it open and shifted things around. Phew, it felt so good. I mean it was really—I saw the man's feet. Then I spotted the log. The poor guy. I just knew he was in trouble. I mean, how would you feel if a log fell off a tree and hit you on the head?"

  Right brow raised, Mitch stared at Daisy. "Am I supposed to believe you think the log fell off the tree?"

  "Well, not anymore, but at first I did. Why? Is that so hard to believe?"

  Mitch shook his head, and Daisy spun to face me.

  "Paige believed me. Didn't you, Paige?" Her eyes pled with me for affirmation.

  Risking Mitch's wrath, I tugged on his arm and pulled him aside. "Look," I said in a low tone before he could complain. "Sometimes Daisy sees things a little differently than the rest of us. But she's sincere. At first, she really did think the log fell from the tree."

  "And I should believe you, why?"

  "Because I'm telling you the truth. Just like I told you the truth when you thought I killed Bud." I glanced at Daisy. "Look at her. She's as clueless as Elle in Legally Blonde."

  "Who?"

  "Never mind. She's kind of an airhead. Fits all the blonde stereotypes. Can you keep this in mind as you talk to her?"

  He flicked his fingers as if dismissing me as easily as swatting a bug and rejoined Daisy and Adam. "Okay, Ms. Plante, you saw the log, then what?"

  "Well, I had to help the guy, so I ran over there as fast as I could." She thumped her right foot. "I picked up the log. It wasn't very heavy. I stared at his head and thought, 'hmm, something's wrong. His head is smashed really bad. This log couldn't have done so much damage by itself.'" Her clear blue eyes locked on Mitch. "I think someone might have killed him."

  Mitch stared at her and seemed as he was trying to stifle a well-duh expression. "And then?"

  "I had to see if he was still alive. So I felt his neck," she lifted her hands. "That's how I got blood all over these. Oh no. I'm so gonna get in trouble for ruining Briny. Do you think they'll fire me? I love this job. It's the first time people liked me for me, not because of my beauty."

  I gave her a reassuring smile. She hadn't realized people weren't seeing the real Daisy, only the Briny shell. Still, somewhere in her confusion, if you dug deep enough, you could find a logical thought. More importantly, she seemed to miss Mitch's gaze measuring her for a jail cell.

  Or was he? For once, his eyes softened and bordered on sympathetic. "And then you called Paige?"

  She pointed to the stump. "Well, no. First, I came over here and sat down because my knees were weak. Then I called her."

  He nodded. "Did you recognize the vic?"

  Daisy thought for a moment then shook her head. "I don't think I know anyone named Vic."

  "The man, Ms. Plante. The man you found."

  "Oh, him. Is his name Vic?"

  "Daisy," I said making sure my voice held patience. "Vic is cop speak for victim."

  "Ohh, I get it. Just like on those TV shows." She peered at Mitch. "No, I don't know him. Do you?"

  "This is to remain confidential pending the notification of his next of kin." Mitch stared at Daisy's confused face. "Are we clear?"

  He was staring at Daisy, but Adam and I both nodded. I held my breath.

  Mitch cleared his throat. "His name is Gary Buzzy. If I'm not mistaken, he's a manager at Pacific Pickles."

  Daisy's lips formed a round shape, but no sound escaped. I had no idea of my expression, but I sought out Adam whose face had paled. Tears pricked my eyes, and I swiveled to face Mitch. "Are you sure it's Gary?"

  "The vic's ID belonged to Buzzy. Don't think he'd be carrying someone else's wallet, but I'll still need someone to make a positive identification. One of my men is breaking the news to his family right now."

  "Oh, no. Karen will have to see Gary this way." I pictured our friend waiting for them to roll out a metal drawer with the love of her life on it. I shivered. I couldn't let her go alone.

  Adam slipped his arm around me. "It's okay. Gary's with God now."

  "I need to go sit with his wife, Karen," I said to Mitch and held back my tears. "Are we finished here?"

  He shook his head. "I have a few more questions."

  "Can you make it quick?"

  He nodded and for the first time in a long time, I saw the boy who grew up next door to me and used to climb the big pine in my backyard, the boy who was one of my best friends. "You obviously knew the deceased. Tell me how."

  "He and his wife attend our church. They joined our Bible study class a few months ago. Oh, and Gary's a client. I started a landscape renovation for them just this morning."

  "When was the last time you saw him?"

  "Sunday morning, at church. Adam and I both saw him then."

  "Sunday was the last time for me, too," Adam said.

  Mitch turned to Daisy. "And you, Ms. Plante? Did you know him?"

  A violent shake of her head sent blond ringlets into wild Slinky-like movements. "No, no, no."

  "You weren't at the shop when he came in to sign his contract?" I asked.

  Her head picked up speed. "No, I wasn't there. I've never even heard of him before."

  Mitch held out Gary's wallet. "Take a good look at the picture on his license. Does he look familiar?"

  She quickly peered at the wallet then closed her eyes and shook her head again. She looked like Lisa's daughter, Lacy as I caught her eating cookies when I was babysitting. She figured if she closed her eyes, I would disappear and spare her from a punishment. Was Daisy wondering the same thing?

  Mitch cast a practiced eye over her, skepticism filling his gaze. I rarely agreed with him, but for some reason I felt like Daisy was lying. I thought back to Wednesday morning when Gary stopped in to sign his contract. Daisy was working, but she might have been outside or on a break. Or maybe she was just too stressed to remember, and she'd recall seeing him once she recovered from the incident.

  I shook off my concerns. "Anything else, Mitch, or can I go?"

  "You're free to go, but Ms. Plante will need to stay a little longer." His focus drifted to one of his men who summoned him with a jerk of his head. He motioned to Daisy. "Please wait here for now. Excuse me." He walked away.

  I turned to Adam. "Can you stay with Daisy so I can go to Karen?"

  Daisy clutched my hand with a stained glove. "No, Paige. Don't leave me. I need you here."

  "Adam can take care of you. He's the best. He'll make sure nothing bad happens to you, and he'll call to keep me updated on what's going on." I pried my hand free. "You can trust him. Okay?"

  She gave a weak nod, barely making her springy hair jiggle.

  Adam moved closer and laid his hand on her shoulder.

  I smiled. "Just remember, if you're innocent, nothing bad will happen."

  I strode toward my truck, glancing at Gary's body half hidden with piles of leaves. I'd found Bud Picklemann's body buried in a mound of mulch and to this day, I couldn't look at mulch the same way again. Now leaves would lose their luster for me as well.

  Still, in an odd way, his lying in the shade was fitting. I'd
thought of Gary as Allegheny spurge, a shade loving perennial grown for the dramatic gray-green leaves. During Bible class he sat in his chair, a striking man you wouldn't miss if you scanned the room, and yet he seemed to want to hide in the shade and rarely made a comment. Now he would be silent forever, and I would forever wonder what he'd failed to say.

  I climbed into my truck and glanced at Daisy one more time. I was too far away to see her expression, but her arms clasped around her middle and the rigid set of her back screamed apprehension, perhaps fear. Had she told the truth, or was she involved in Gary's death? Sighing, I shifted into gear and wondered how long it would be before I knew the answer.

  Chapter Four

  With the afternoon sun beating down and heating the interior of my battered truck, I pulled it to the curb outside the Buzzys' house. A fabulous white bungalow, it sat in the shade of towering pines surrounding the yard. The shade beckoned me out of the heat, yet the darkness seemed to reflect my mood. But my mood didn't matter. I could only imagine how Karen must be feeling.

  Hopefully, I could help. And so would Lisa. I'd called her on the drive over, and she readily agreed to drop everything and rush over here. Her first husband Ben died in an auto accident on their one-year anniversary, making her the perfect person to console Karen. Lisa, if anyone, could feel Karen's pain and loss, but I didn't want to leave Karen alone for another minute so I headed up the sidewalk.

  I stabbed a finger at the buzzer mounted on wide trim and waited. A police car had cruised by as I'd turned the corner, so I was certain an officer had already been here. I was surprised he didn't wait until someone arrived to sit with her. Knowing Karen, she'd sent him off. She was the only person I'd ever met whose need for control outweighed mine.

  I pressed the doorbell again. Where was she? Was she avoiding people? In her room crying? I glanced into the side window. No movement. I checked the door. Locked. The Buzzys often left the back door unlocked, so I circled round back.

  Through the cage of the Bobcat I'd delivered to aid in removal of the concrete patio tomorrow morning, I spotted Karen. She stood in the center of the patio, staring into the yard and dabbing a crumpled tissue at her eyes. To me, Karen was the perennial plant, feverfew. Many plants are stunners, standing out and drawing attention, but feverfew had more substance than flash. Much like Karen. Traditional in her dress, she was attractive in a conservative way, but what drew others to her were the qualities running deep inside. She emitted a faith that knew no bounds, but faith I knew the loss of her husband would test.

  I approached. "Karen."

  She slowly pivoted, a lost look in her eyes. "Oh, Paige. Good, I'm glad you're here. There's something I need to talk to you about."

  "Anything you need." I wrapped my arms around her, but she remained stiff and lifeless. I pulled back and waited for her to tell me what I could do to help.

  "This was Gary's favorite spot, you know. He poured this patio with his friend Nathan." She lowered her gaze to the exposed aggregate. "I'm not sure if I want to take it out now or not."

  What? Her husband was just murdered and she wanted to talk about the landscape project? I was totally unprepared for this reaction.

  Her head popped up with a forced smile tipping her generous lips. "They had so much fun mixing and pouring the concrete. We had a little barbeque when it was done and sat around the lawn admiring the patio. Gary was so proud of their work." Her eyes clouded over. "Until water started flooding the crawl space. Then he realized his mistake. He didn't know he had to slope the patio away from the house."

  I didn't know what to say. This was not news to me. They hired me to make sure the new patio had the right pitch for water run off.

  She dabbed at her eyes. "Gary went to work early today so he could come home when it was still light out. He was supposed to pick up the jackhammer and start busting this up after work. Just like Gary to try to fix his own mistake before you had to rip it out tomorrow." She paused with a dreamy look in her eyes. "When the officer came to the door, I thought it was Gary coming home even earlier to get the messy work done so you could make things beautiful again." She peered at me. "You can't, can you, Paige? Make anything about this situation beautiful?" She clutched her stomach, and the tears I'd expected earlier oozed out.

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. "Maybe we should go inside. I'll make a cup of tea."

  "No!" Her hands flew up. "I have to stay here. In Gary's favorite spot. Then he'll be close to me. Forever close. Right here on the patio." She made rapid darts of her eyes around the yard. "Yes, the patio stays. You need to get rid of all of the equipment." She pointed at the Bobcat. "Get that monster out of here."

  "Karen, I think we should—"

  "Now, Paige. I want it gone now!" Her vehemence allowed no argument.

  "I can move it to the end of the driveway while I pick up the trailer from my shop to haul it off."

  She nodded. "Good, good. Yes, better." She continued to nod, though I don't think she was conscious of the action.

  "I have to get the key from my truck." Not wanting to leave her alone, I slowly backed away and pondered what to do. I reached the corner of the house and found my answer. Lisa pulled her silver minivan to a stop in front of the neighbor's house.

  As she climbed out, I rushed to her. "Boy am I glad you're here."

  She came around the back of the van. "Where's Karen? Is she all right?"

  I explained Karen's odd state of mind.

  Lisa's eyes clouded over as if painful memories of Ben's death were rushing back. "Sounds like she's in shock. I called Pastor Stephens. He's on the way. So is Karen's mom. She's coming from Portland."

  "Maybe they can help her where I couldn't. I'll get the Bobcat key and move it to the end of the drive then go pick up my trailer. Can you stay with her?"

  Lisa nodded. "Mom has the girls so I'm here as long as I'm needed."

  With a worried heart, I retrieved the key and returned to the patio. I found Lisa, arm wrapped around Karen's shoulders, trying to ease her toward the door. Karen had set her feet like a stubborn child. This stance should be no match for supermom Lisa. Under any other circumstance, she would force Karen to move. Instead, Lisa spoke softly and kept encouraging Karen.

  Quietly, I climbed onto the seat of the Bobcat and inserted the key.

  "Good, get that thing gone." Karen pointed at the fence. "And all of these tools. Take them away, too."

  With Karen watching my every move, I jumped down and loaded the tools into the front bucket. Fortunately, Karen didn't mention removing the plants delivered on Friday. Lisa and I had only transplanted a few of them this morning. I hoped Karen would let me finish the beds so her backyard wasn't left in a mess. That's the least I could do at a time like this.

  I gave Lisa a farewell glance and rumbled down the drive. At my truck, I transferred the tools into the back and drove to The Garden Gate. After entering my code into the automated lock at the back door, I paused and drew in a deep breath to ease out the raw emotions flowing though me.

  I'd planned to spend the afternoon at the Buzzys' house settling in more of the plants so my manager Hazel wasn't expecting me. Still, I had to let her know Daisy wasn't coming in for her afternoon shift and ask Hazel to call a possible replacement. Then I would move the Bobcat and spend time with Karen or Daisy, whoever needed me most.

  I slipped into the dark hallway and let my eyes adjust. Once a service garage, I'd left the back section—office, break room and restroom—alone and concentrated on the public areas. I'd converted the three huge bays into a green house, a retail store and a classroom for teaching weekend gardening classes.

  I passed through the classroom bay furnished with wrought iron tables and a coffee bar where I stopped to pump a rich black cup of my favored Columbian blend. Host of Success Serendipity Style, Tim Needlemeyer's voice drifted from up front. When Hazel was alone in the shop, she tuned the radio to KALM so she could listen to my show and often kept it on for the remainder of the d
ay.

  As I carefully sipped on the cup, I heard Hazel say, "Don't mess with me today, Mister. After Zeke's complaining all weekend, I'm not in the mood for a whiny male."

  I grinned and rounded the corner. Hazel shook her finger at the large daytime cage holding Mr. T, our inherited Amazon parrot.

  "Don't give me no jibba-jabba," Mr. T, short for Thunderbird, squawked. He often proved his nickname apropos as he spouted Mr. T'isms along with other favored sayings from TV. He flapped his wings and hopped to the top perch in his cage.

  "Fine," Hazel said. "Turn your back on me. Maybe you'll hush up while you're at it, and I can get some work done around here." Her tone was irritated but still tinged with her love for the whacky old bird. She'd taken over most of his care since he'd moved in about a year ago. Or should I say moved back? He'd belonged to the owner of the garage, but when he'd died and Mr. T sank into a depression, I agreed to keep Mr. T to stem his loneliness.

  "That's it. Take a nap, and let me get back to work." Hazel gave one last look at the bird then returned to her task of replenishing the seed racks near the cash register. Her gray braids swung in unison over her stooped shoulders as she moved.

  I called my rugged, dependable, and indestructible employee a sedum. I've recently narrowed her status to the 'Dragon's Blood' cultivar. When all the locals thought I'd killed Bud Picklemann, she'd breathed fire at my naysayers like my own personal dragon. No one was brave enough to attempt to slay her.

  I took another sip of my coffee and joined her at the register. "You two at it again?"

  Eyebrows raised over droopy eyelids, she peered up at me. "If you know what's good for you, you'll run the other way. He's wound up today." She grinned.

  "I'll risk it," I said.

  "Heard the show." She pointed at the radio. "You go to Daisy's rescue?"

  I nodded and set my cup on the ancient countertop.

  She shoved the small box of grass seed she was holding onto the shelf and straightened. "Please don't tell me she really found a body."

  "She did. Gary Buzzy."

  "Wow, really? Gary?" She let her mouth fall open revealing several gaps in the back. "What happened?"