Natural Thorn Killer

by Kate Dyer-Seeley

  “It turns out they were using the cottage for their secret trysts,” Pete continued. “Serene had a key.”

  “And she was the one peering in the window? Trying to see if Elin had left yet?”

  “That’s my working theory. We’ll see what she has to say.”

  The EMS workers raced in with a stretcher. I dug my heels in and begged them not to take me in the ambulance, but Pete wouldn’t hear of it. “They’ll get you checked out, Britta. You’re in good hands. I’ll let your aunt and everyone else know. See you at the hospital later.” He clapped one of the first responders on the back as a cue to wheel me away.

  At the hospital the emergency room doctor was extra precautious. He ran a number of tests including a spinal X-ray and CAT scan before ruling that I had a mild concussion. “We want to keep you overnight to observe you, but otherwise with a week of rest and some ice and Advil you’ll be as good as new.”

  Elin, Jon, Nora, and Mark crammed into my tiny room with flowers, candles, and even a steaming mug of Demitasse espresso. A stern nurse shot Nora the evil eye when she tried to hand me the coffee. “Absolutely not,” the nurse said taking the mug.

  “Don’t let that go to waste, honey,” Nora retorted to the nurse. “At least enjoy it yourself.”

  I thought I saw the young nurse smile as she took the coffee and left me to my visitors.

  Elin’s face was blanched. She sat on the bed next to me, rubbing my calves. “When Pete said that you’d been injured my heart stopped. I couldn’t imagine . . .” she trailed off.

  Jon placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Britta’s made of the same Swedish steel. I’m guessing she’ll be back to building gorgeous bouquets in no time, isn’t that right?” He winked at me.

  “I’m fine. I promise,” I reassured them and then we broke into a heated discussion about Serene and Frank.

  The bandage from Jon’s nose was missing and if I wasn’t mistaken I thought I saw a small scar on the left side.

  Jon must have noticed me squinting. “Is it obvious?”

  “No, why?”

  He gave me a sheepish grin. “Had a bit of touch up done. My plastic surgeon swears that you’ll never be able to see the stitches once the swelling is completely gone.” He turned to show us his profile.

  “A nose job!” Nora punched him in the shoulder. “I thought you had a hot date in Bermuda or something. A nose job!”

  “I thought you were the killer for a while there,” I admitted with a chuckle. Bad idea. Movement made my head throb.

  Jon burst into hysterics and Nora and Elin looked at me as if I were speaking in tongues. “A killer? Moi? How positively perfect.”

  “Come on, cut me some slack. I hadn’t met you and you waltz into the flower shop sporting that bandage. I thought maybe you got into a fight with Frank before you killed him. And there was that weird black van parked in front of Torch.” Even as I tried to explain my rationale it sounded pretty far-fetched.

  Nora threw her head back and cackled. “Jon a killer. I love it, girl! Remind me to tell you about the time I called Jon to help me with my spider infestation. The man refused to kill a single spider. Not a single one.” She punched his shoulder again.

  Jon dabbed the side of his nose. “Maybe Britta is right. What if the nose job was to disguise my appearance?” His eyes twinkled. Then he frowned. “What black van was in front of the shop?”

  Elin raised her index finger. “I can answer that question.” She looked at me. “Darren.”

  “You think that was Darren?” I asked, rubbing the base of my skull.

  “I’m sure it was Darren. He drives a black van, and as you well know he’s been casing Blomma for weeks.”

  Nora reached for Elin’s hand. “Why didn’t you let us help? We would have run his big pudgy body straight out of the village, wouldn’t we, Jon?”

  Jon gave her a nod of solidarity.

  Elin smiled as the nurse returned to shoo everyone out. “Visiting hours are over, folks. We need to let our patient rest.”

  “Can I stay? I’m family,” Elin asked the nurse, who gave her a nod.

  Jon and Nora left with another round of well-wishes. Elin kissed the top of my head. My flower headband must have been left at the scene. “I can’t believe that it was Serene. I trusted her. And her and Frank? I can’t picture it.”

  “I know. She was so polished, and Frank was so . . .” I trailed off, not finding the right word in my hazy fog.

  “Horrid,” Elin offered. She tucked my feet into the blankets.

  “Horrid.” I tried to smile but pain shot from my cheekbones up to my forehead. “How do you think Lawren fit into it? Do you think that Serene got jealous? Remember that night how he pinched Lawren’s waist and kept calling her honey? Could the love note have been meant for her? Maybe Serene read it and snapped.”

  “It’s possible.” Elin fiddled with her succulent bracelet.

  I knew that my synapses weren’t firing at full speed, but Elin looked disturbed. “Is something bothering you?”

  She sighed. “That note was for me, Britta.”

  “What?” She couldn’t have possibly been involved with Frank Jaffe.

  “No, no.” She waved her hand in the air. “I see what you’re thinking. Not Frank. The note was from Eric. The roses—the Deep Secrets—those were for me. Remember how I told you that Eric has sent me flowers every year?”

  I rubbed my temples and nodded.

  “Those are our roses. Deep Secret. He sent me the note and the roses. They arrived the afternoon that Frank was killed. I put them in the cottage.”

  “Oh.” Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? “That makes sense. If Serene and Frank were supposed to meet in the cottage what if she found the roses and note? She must have jumped to the conclusion that Frank was having an affair with someone else.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Elin reached over and fluffed the pillow behind my head. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, I’m fine.” My head hurt as the pieces of Frank’s murder finally began to fall into place. “You know at one point I considered everyone a suspect. Mark, Jon, even Nora.”

  “I didn’t want to believe that any of my friends could have done it, but the same thoughts crossed my mind.” Elin handed me a glass of water. “You should drink this.”

  I took a sip of the water. “And what about the dead roses at the murder scene?”

  She pursed her lips together. We both said, “Darren” at the same time.

  “You think?” I asked handing her back the water glass.

  “I’m sure.” She set the glass on the nightstand next to the bed. “I’ve been wondering if maybe he was the one hanging around and peering in the cottage windows.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.” She sighed. “It started after the bridal show. Darren was upset with me. He feels like I’m intentionally trying to put him out of business, which as you know is not the case. Although I do firmly believe that his novelty and negative flowers have no place at a bridal show. He’s been sending me a dead bouquet once a week since I stated my position to the organizers. Like I said before, he’s harmless. And he’s wasting his money. If he wants to use his time to deliver his product to Blomma, more power to him. It’s not going to intimidate me.”

  “For sure, but I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.” I rolled my neck from side to side. “Aren’t we supposed to be a team?”

  She laced her hand through mine. Her skin was warm and comforting. “We are.” She squeezed my fingers tight. “Britta, I’m sorry. I’ve kept so much in. I didn’t want to burden you, but having you home has made it so clear how much I need you.”

  “I need you, too, Moster.” I clasped her hand.

  “There’s something else I want to ask you,” she said as she stroked my palm. “It’s about Eric.”

  “What?”

  “He’d like to come for a visit. He wants to meet you
.” Her tone was timid, but laced with enthusiasm.

  I removed my hand from hers so that I could sit up a little. “Of course. Yes, I would love to meet him. When can he come?”

  “Are you sure?” Her brow furrowed. “It’s been a long time and so much has happened.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I want to meet him and obviously he wants to see you again.”

  A blush crept up her cheeks. She looked at her feet. “Well, it would be nice to see him.”

  The nurse poked her head in the door and tapped her watch. “Almost time for bed.”

  “Would you like me to stay?” Elin asked.

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “Rest up. I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

  My eyes were heavy and a headache had begun to spread down my neck. I must have drifted off because I was roused sometime later when I heard the rustling of sheets and the sound of the single chair in the room sliding across the floor.

  I opened my eyes to see Pete curled up in the chair. His long leg stretched under the bed. “Hey, how did you get in? I thought visiting hours were done.”

  Pete grinned and pulled out his badge. “Not for me. I’m here on official police business.”

  “You are?” I knew I was groggy and hoped that his questions could wait until morning.

  “No. But no one needs to know that.” He winked.

  “Is that even legal?”

  “To visit someone at the hospital?” He glanced behind him toward the hallway. “The last time I checked, yeah.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Actually, I don’t.” He strummed his fingers on his chin. “Is there a piece of news or lingering evidence you’re holding back?”

  “No. I’m just so glad it’s done, but I still can’t believe it was Serene.”

  He cleared his throat and reached into his coat pocket. “Right, I thought you might want to see this.” Removing a photograph, he handed it to me and scooted his chair closer.

  “What is it?”

  “Take a look.”

  The photo was of a barely clothed Serene and Frank toasting with glasses of wine on an Italian terrace. “I don’t understand,” I said studying the picture.

  “Lawren, you know, Frank’s assistant, handed this over to me.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight. She found it in a file of his paperwork and was going to confront Serene. Apparently she thought she had tucked it behind a bottle of wine at Blomma, but then couldn’t find it. She’s been looking all around for it. Wanted to have proof before she came to us.”

  So that’s what Lawren had been looking for.

  “For someone quiet and mousy she had some moxie. She told Serene she had proof. It sent Serene over the edge.”

  “Where was the picture?”

  “She found it in a stack of résumés in her car.”

  I rubbed my temples. I knew it had been a long night and I had suffered a bump on the head, but I couldn’t picture Lawren confronting Serene. “What made her tell Serene?”

  Pete shrugged. “People do surprising things. I think she’d had enough of Frank’s demands and abuse. She said Serene was threatened by her. She was pushing Frank to fire Lawren.”

  “Do you think that’s why she killed him?”

  “Most likely. We’re working from the theory that she found him in the cottage with roses and the note and jumped to the conclusion that he was meeting Lawren for a secret tryst.”

  My mind tried to connect all of the dots.

  “Go back to sleep, Britta.” Pete patted my leg. “You’re exhausted. We can talk more tomorrow.”

  I allowed my eyelids to droop and drifted off to sleep content knowing that Pete was watching over me. With Serene arrested, Frank’s murder solved, and a successful launch Blomma’s future looked like it was about to bloom, and I couldn’t help wondering if my budding romance with Pete Fletcher just might be as well. That could wait for tomorrow, but tonight I was content and eager to start my new life in the Rose City.

  Please read on for floral tips and recipes from

  A TOUCH OF BLOMMA!

  Take a stroll through Riverplace Village with Britta. You’ll get a taste of the sensory delights that line Portland’s waterfront village and learn why being back home again has made Britta ready to plant permanent roots.

  BLOMMA’S FLOWER TIPS

  Love Juice—Aunt Elin’s simple solution for preserving fresh-cut flowers. When purchasing flowers at your local floral boutique or picking them from your garden be sure to immediately place them in warm water. While they are soaking, mix one cup of tepid water with a teaspoon of sugar, bleach, and lemon juice or vinegar. Stir the mixture. Then cut a half inch off each flower stem at an angle. Fill a vase with tepid water, add the love juice, and arrange the stems. Love juice will help extend the life of your arrangement. Change out the water and repeat the process every three or four days.

  Shun the Light—To ensure a long-lasting and fragrant bouquet be sure to keep your fresh-cut flowers away from the direct sunlight. Elin and Britta recommend storing floral arrangements in a cool space, like a garage or basement, overnight. Enjoy your colorful bounty on your dining room table or in your entryway during the day, but then move it into a cold and dark space overnight. Your flowers and your wallet will thank you.

  Blomma’s Featured Wine and Flower Pairing—Wine and flowers are the perfect pairing. A lush bouquet or sweet centerpiece can enhance a bottle of bubbly or glass of vino. Blomma’s featured wine is a Northwest pinot noir. This complex and romantic red wine is known to have hints of berries, cherries, and even a touch of the forest floor. Britta suggests pairing this wine with a bohemian-style woodland creation filled with fresh evergreen branches, succulents, Hypericum berries, deep red roses, and eucalyptus.

  A TASTE OF BLOMMA

  Aunt Elin’s Swedish Pancakes

  This quick and easy Swedish favorite is a treat for breakfast or any time of the day.

  1 cup all-purpose flour

  2 eggs

  1 cup milk

  1 teaspoon sugar

  ½ teaspoon salt

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  2 tablespoons butter, melted

  Whisk eggs, milk, flour, sugar, salt, and vanilla together in a mixing bowl until the batter is thin. Heat butter in a small frying pan over medium heat. Pour ¼ cup of batter into hot pan. Swirl pan in circular motion until the batter coats the surface evenly.

  Cook for approximately 2–3 minutes. Flip with spatula and cook on the other side. Serve hot with butter, fresh-squeezed lemon, and lingonberries or lingonberry jam.

  Makes 8–10 pancakes.

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

  Kate Dyer-Seeley’s next Rose City mystery

  VIOLET TENDENCIES

  coming soon wherever print and e-books are sold!

  Chapter One

  Portland was flush with spring color, blooming roses, bright flags flapping from the boughs of Navy ships docked along the waterfront, and neon carnival signs, doting the banks of the Willamette River. The end of the unrelenting rainy season brought a celebration like no other to the city—Rose Festival. The festival spanned three weeks from the end of May through mid-June, attracting visitors from all over the world who joined in Portland’s annual street party at the queen’s coronation, milk boat races, starlight run, rose show, and the pièce de résistance, the Grand Floral Parade. This year, Blomma, my Aunt Elin’s boutique European-inspired flower shop where I had been working for the past few months, had been chosen as the showcase florist for the Rose Festival. It was a huge honor. And a huge undertaking. In addition to managing our regular clientele at the shop, we had been spending every waking moment at the float barn preparing our float.

  This year’s theme for Rose Festival was Shine, and we intended to make our float do just that. Elin had sketched out a design plan that mirrored her artistic, Swedish style. Many float designers opted to adorn their moving masterpiece
s with Portland’s signature flower, the rose. Not Elin. Blomma’s float would consist of giant violet garlands that stretched across a ten-foot bridge constructed from grape vines. The float would be lush with purple violets, dark greenery, and earthy vines, with touches of brilliant white violets to signal the return of spring. Elin had opted for the dainty flower because they were often one of the first to push through the ground in April. Her vision for the float was to create an Oregon forest-scape that was just beginning to bud to life. Assuming we could pull it off, her ethereal float could have a good shot at winning the judge’s award for most outstanding. There were also awards for craftsmanship, best depiction of whimsy, life in Oregon, and community spirit. Winning a coveted award would be a boost for our growing flower shop and wine bar.

  When it came to materials, the rules for the Grand Floral Parade were simple—everything must be organic in nature. Seeds, bark, leaves, berries, flowers, and moss were all acceptable. Gluing thousands of tiny seeds by hand was a painstaking process, but I hoped that our efforts would be worth it. As of late, our biggest challenge (other than black, sticky fingers) was procuring enough product. Nicki Parks, the float barn director, had told me in passing that each float used enough flowers to send someone a dozen roses every day for thirty years. That didn’t even begin to account for the industrial-sized buckets of tapioca pearls, onion seeds, and cranberries lining every square inch of floor space in the float barn, along with stacks of twenty-foot evergreen boughs, corn stalks, and pumpkin vines. Trying to add up how many thousands of seeds and berries were being used in float production made my head spin.

  Focus, Britta, I told myself as I surveyed the wholesale flower market. I had offered to make the trek to Oregon’s largest flower trading market to see if one of our long-standing suppliers happened to have twelve dozen Shasta daisies in stock. We had received a last-minute call yesterday from a frantic bride whose florist bailed on her with her deposit. She needed six bridesmaid’s bouquets, a bridal bouquet, boutonnieres, and headpieces for the flower girls by tomorrow, and her budget was minimal given that her original florist had taken off with the cash she had put down for her wedding day flowers. Elin and I both had a soft spot for brides-in-need so we agreed to do our best. I had explained that the likelihood of finding enough Shasta daisies wasn’t high given that the Grand Floral Parade was in three days. Every flower in the state had been purchased and accounted for. However, she had sounded so dejected on the phone that I couldn’t turn her down. I assured her that I would give it a shot and that we could create something just as lovely with equally inexpensive white carnations and hints of greenery if necessary.