by Janis Lane
“Then I will leave you tonight. If you have bad dreams, call me. I can be over in a flash,” he said. He placed an arm around her as they walked toward the back door. “I really mean that, honey. I promise to behave. I don’t want you scared.” He molded her to his hard chest, his big arm wrapped almost completely around and laid his cheek against the top of her head for a moment. Then he tilted her face up to him staring deep into her eyes before abruptly letting her go and disappearing into the night. She stood motionless until she heard his back door slam shut, and then had to fight against the sudden vacuum his leaving had left.
So strange. Her feelings for this too-handsome-for-her-own-good man were in such conflict. She wanted him to leave and the minute he did, she wanted him back. She was sexually attracted to him and yet terrified of the depth of her feelings. She fought an ever-losing battle to maintain control over them. And longed to lose the battle every time she was within ten feet of him.
She trundled into an old and well-loved T-shirt that extolled the virtues of digging in the dirt and a pair of don’t-ask-where-they-came-from boxer shorts. Waves of weariness swam over her muscles, and she crawled thankfully into bed. And lay there not sleeping. When her eyes closed, she could see grotesque bugs crawling out of the dead man’s nose. Eww. She sat up in bed, turned on the light, grabbed a book, and attempted to read herself to sleep. Almost there. Finally, she turned out the light and closed her eyes.
What was that noise? She lay rigid, not moving a muscle while she strained to hear and identify the noise from the front room.
Probably the parrot. She could shift around in her cage and make all sorts of . . . No, that wasn’t the bird. Cheryl reached quietly for her cell phone which was on the nightstand and just as quietly, hardly breathing, she dialed David. Better to be embarrassed because she panicked, spooked over finding . . .
“David?” she whispered.
“Cher, that you? What’s up?” He sounded wide-awake, thank goodness.
“Someone is trying to get inside the office. Keeps rattling the doorknob and scratching around at the windows. Can you come over?” Her nerves were stretched to the limit, her breath caught on a sob.
“Hang on, sweets. I’ll be right over. You stay in your bedroom so I don’t trip over you in the dark, okay?”
She nodded as if he could see her, but he was gone already. She could hear dead air.
She lay with the covers pulled over her head, hearing what she wished she couldn’t. Someone was determined to break into her shop and now rattling her bedroom window. She could hear the parrot, awake in her cage, squawking, “Naughty Boy.” But she knew it wasn’t David.
The window right beside her bed rattled and started to rise slowly. Terror shot into her veins and speed raced around her body. The night was full of horror, all looking like dead men with insects crawling out of every orifice. She jumped out of bed, ran for the bathroom, and locked the door. She opened the cupboard underneath the sink and tried to stuff herself in. Too tight . How to hide? She curled herself into a ball and huddled on the floor. Where was David?
Then she heard a man shouting outside. She opened the bathroom door cautiously and peered out. Loud shouts and cursing. David seemed to be trying to persuade someone to do something. Not even the dim light from a nearby streetlight could penetrate the darkness. She screamed as a distorted face pressed itself directly against the glass of the window.
David called out to her to open the back door. Was he kidding? She leaned against the door but screamed again when something large slammed against it.
“Cheryllll,” someone called out to her, but the distortion in the voice . . . Who was it? He sounded vaguely familiar.
David called out to her again.
“I’m not opening this door to some monster,” she called back. She heard David, her hero, the Monster Killer, laugh, but curse the next moment.
“Not a real monster, Cher. Just a drunk one,” he said. “Open up, honey. Just long enough for me to get this . . . Will you stop it! I don’t want to use force against you. Just calm down.” He knocked on the door urgently.
Slowly, she opened the door with the night chain still latched. She peeked through the opening to see David’s eyes crinkled with laughter peering back at her.
“Open up, sweetheart. Nothing to worry about. Just one of your many suitors come to call. I think we need to infuse him with a bit of black coffee before we send him on his way.” In he walked, dragging Gordon by the collar. A very, very drunk Gordon who smelled as if he might have vomited on himself. He grinned foolishly at Cheryl.
“Not a pretty sight,” David said. “You might want to go back to bed and let me handle him, honey. He promised me he would behave if only he could see you for just a minute. Seen enough, fellow?” David winced as Gordon started weeping copiously and reaching for Cheryl. “Too much! Okay, let’s go. Gordon, is it?”
“I’ll call for a black-and-white to give him a ride home. He’s really gone. No sense in sobering him up tonight. He can find his car tomorrow. It’s not in the driveway. I wonder if he even remembers where he parked it.” He dragged Gordon out the back door, turning to wink and blow a kiss to Cheryl.
Cheryl stood like a stone statue. What more could happen this day? Exhaustion ran in undulating rings around her body as she crept quietly back to her bed. She thought of Detective David Larkin, Superman, the ex-boyfriend handler, her friend, and sometimes plant killer who caused the ladies to lose their minds.
She thought about his grin and wink as he left her to drag the disgusting sot out into the night. David is my hero. Superman with brown eyes and . . . Sleep overcame her quickly.
Chapter 11
“How To Make New Friends and Share With Your Neighbor”
By Cheryl
Unlike a garden of annuals, which reaches its potential in one season, a perennial garden demands a bit of patience. The first year the plants set their roots and nothing much happens on top. This is when I suggest a supplement of a vivid crop of annuals. The second year is one of growth and beauty with the perennials coming fully into their own.
The third year has the gardener looking around for new places to put the perennial which now needs to be split. Its vigorous growth has exceeded its allotted space and . . .
“Doggone it. Who could be up this early?” Cheryl ran to the back door and peeked out. Larkin. Looking as bedraggled as she felt. She opened the door and was immediately enfolded in a bear hug, the male smells of pungent soap, spicy shampoo, and the familiar fragrance of his shaving lotion surrounding her all at once. She breathed once deeply before she tried to shift away from his enthusiastic embrace.
“I love having you next door, Cher. Say you like it too,” he pleaded. “It reminds me of when we were younger. Do you have coffee? You do! I smell it. Okay, I smelled it across the lawn, I confess. I am in dire need of sustenance.” He finally let her go after a swift kiss on her nose and bee-lined it to where he spotted steam rising from a newly brewed coffee pot.
Cheryl stood watching him with a half-smile. Who could get mad at Yogi Bear? Last night, Superman Super Cop, and this morning, an affectionate Yogi smelling food. She joined him at the coffee pot and shoved a plate of cookies toward him.
“No breakfast?”
“Not a thing in the house. I meant to go to the store but I forgot,” he said, shoving cookies down his throat. “I was headed to the donut shop, but the fragrance of that coffee captured me. I hope I didn’t wake you?”
“No. I had some work to do.” Almost the truth. Although she had slept deeply, she awoke feeling as if some disaster were about to happen. It helped to get busy. Her column always needed work.
“Did your boyfriend call about the car? I gave the keys to the uniform who drove him home. Boy, was he ripped.”
As David gave her an interested glance, she
became aware that his curiosity was at fever pitch. Needing coffee, indeed. He needed information, she’d bet her last pair of leather gardening gloves.
“Gordon Moore is old news. Just having a hard time accepting that someone as ordinary as me could reject him.”
“Gordon Moore? Isn’t he the famous doctor? Got a weekly TV show, don’t he? One of the uniforms recognized him. Said he was a ladies’ favorite. Boyfriend of yours, was he?” David swallowed the last cookie on the plate, but she could tell he was serious about the question.
“I was engaged to him for a short period of time.” She took the empty plate to the dishwasher. “I broke it off. He seems to be stuck in a time warp.”
“It might take a little time, Cher. Sometimes it does.” He ruffled her hair and smiled like a big brother.
“Time,” she exploded in frustration. “How much time? It was over a year ago, and he’s insisting I go on business trips with him.”
It was Larkin’s turn to frown. “A year ago? Wow. He really does have it bad. Want me to have a little talk with him?”
“No. No. No. David, I can handle my own affairs. Please don’t interfere. I do thank you for dealing with that fiasco last night, but it was only Gordon. I was still on edge from the afternoon horror and couldn’t think straight. I overreacted. He’s just a nuisance. Promise me?”
“Okay, okay. Unless you ask. You off to the Toledo’s to work today? I see it finally stopped raining.” He adjusted his loose jacket around his shoulder holster.
Cheryl was beginning to get used to seeing the butt of a gun peeking out from his jacket. He was David, alternately her hero or her nemeses, and she seemed to be helplessly entangled in his web. She determined anew to resist the magnetic pull. She’d never be an adult in his eyes if she kept allowing him to rescue her.
“See you out there, but don’t look for me. Just one man to keep a look out for. By the way, he was last known by the name of Tim Griever and he speaks with a slight accent. Again. Don’t acknowledge him. Just call on that phone they gave you. Okay?”
She nodded, wondering if David thought she was a complete moron.
“I get a kick out of seeing my little girl bossing those great big equipment workers around. Not bad, Cher, sweets, not bad.” He swiftly exited, leaving Cheryl speechless.
Its vigorous growth has exceeded the allotted space and is threatening to overtake more precious perennials. Your neighbor who has always admired your garden is probably drooling over your plants. Offer her a chunk of the perennial, keeping in mind to scoop deep enough to get plenty of healthy roots. Give her a few tips on the plants habits, such as ‘needs a bit of space.’
Still got at least three splits to go? Make an announcement at coffee hour at church. Or go up to that shy lady and tell her you have an abundance of a very pretty perennial. Believe me, it works. New family in the neighborhood? What a nice house warming present! Try it.
Finally the rain stopped and the work could resume. Although they were a couple of days behind, Cheryl was confident they would still meet the deadline. The subcontractors were probably already on the job. She had an appointment with Francine regarding perennials. Should have done that in the shop, but Francine swore she couldn’t leave the house today. No matter. Her flip-card brochure was pretty old-fashioned compared to her spiffy program with a nice big monitor.
Cheryl decided not to think about Sam Toledo and his criminal activities whatever they were, nor dead bodies left underneath oak trees. Her only assignment was to recognize a specific person if he came to visit. That was it. It was neither to think about solving the crime nor to think about who had killed that man.
The Malones were another problem, but it was work she couldn’t really afford to turn down. If information got out that she refused to take a job as big as this one, it would damage her reputation. Ugh! She tried to push the image of the dead man from her thoughts. She joined her subcontractor and busied herself in work.
The recent rains had tumbled a few shrubs, but on the whole, the new plantings had stayed in place. The gentle slope to the terrain helped the drainage, so no puddles or mud formed. The sun was rapidly drying the grounds, and it promised to be a perfect day to work outside. She inspected everything with a critical eye.
The intimate little patio was a success and made her feel good inside. Surely it was acceptable to feel pride in a good job done? It looked as if it had been there for years. Getting away from the job for a couple of days gave her a different perspective.
Francine, dressed in a robe of pink silk, was waving a tissue in her hand. Her much bleached hair was hanging down her back, but her rings were flashing.
“Yoo-hoo, Cheryl. I have coffee and a coffee cake. I really like cake even if it’s bad for my figure.” She smoothed the robe outlining her bosoms and hipline clearly. Cheryl imagined the scene was catching the eye of a few of the contractor’s workers and wondered where Larkin was, but she kept her promise not to look for him.
She followed Francine into the house and into the kitchen. Cheryl pulled her brochure from her over the shoulder bag and opened it to the first page of flowers.
“Oh, let’s chat for a bit, shall we?” Francine waved her hand. “I need woman talk before I get down to business, don’t you? This rain has had me cooped up for days and days.”
Cheryl agreed that she preferred sunshiny days as well. They munched the sweet pastry and sipped coffee. Cheryl relaxed when there was no sight of Sam Toledo. She really didn’t mind Francine as long as she seemed interested in gardening.
“Oh, here is my sweetest baby in the whole wide world. Come to Mama, honey.”
Cheryl tensed, expecting Toledo. Instead, Francine swooped up her tiny dog, nuzzling him on his head. The minute creature shook with palsy, his eyes budged alarmingly. Large sparkling rhinestones circled his neck, almost too heavy for such a small dog.
“Isn’t he the sweetest doggie in the world, my little Pooky?” Francine demanded, holding him out for Cheryl to admire.
Cheryl patted him gingerly on the head, but the puppy snarled. She jerked back while Francine trilled a burst of laughter.
“He is a naughty boy. Aren’t you, my sweet baby?” she cooed in his ear holding him close to her face. Pooky subsided, then curled his lip showing his teeth at Cheryl and gave a high-pitched bark.
Francine got up to feed the dog. “There. I have him busy for a bit.” She took a chair again at the table. “You want to do that work now?” She settled her cupped hands underneath her chin with an air of expectation. Her blond hair flopped over her shoulders, but her face was completely made up with massacred eyelashes and blood-red lipstick. She pointed her rings at Cheryl.
“This is a new one Sam just gave me. Isn’t he the sweetest thing?”
Cheryl nodded in agreement.
“Here are a few samples of the plants I recommend. Keep in mind we’re arranging for most of these plants to be viewed either from the intimate patio or from the larger one in back of the house. The rule of thumb is for bright blooms—yellows, red, oranges— to be arranged further away and for the cool colors—pink, purple, blue—to be planted closer.”
“Ohhh, I love this one. It looks perfect for my vases.” Francine pointed to blue salvia with short stems, and Cheryl covered her dismay with a hasty flip of the brochure.
“Francine, I have big plans to have a cutting garden. But we’ll wait on that. These are permanent plantings just for the landscape.” She winced at the petulant frown on Francine’s face.
“You could cut this type of flower, but the stems grow so short it wouldn’t . . .” She heard a step behind her, and Toledo came in dressed in a flowing blue and gold robe.
He clapped a hand on Cheryl’s shoulder and greeted her heartily. “You girls having a good time with the posies?”
Francine popped out of her chai
r and reached around the man who was an inch or two shorter than she.
“How did you sleep, lover?” she asked, kissing him on the cheek and clasping her arms around his neck. “You need a cup of coffee, my honey bun?” She stepped to the kitchen door and screamed, “Lizzyyy!”
Cheryl jumped nervously at the sudden noise, but relaxed when a maid in uniform appeared and began serving Sam breakfast. Francine continued to ignore her and croon gooey words to Sam, who was eating. Eventually he pushed his plate back, and Lizzy quickly removed it.
“Been noticing the work outside, Cheryl. You have those boys humping out there in spite of the rain. I told Franny here I was impressed such a little thing like you could order those big boys around.” He laughed loudly and boisterously. “How long you think it’s gonna be before you finish up?” He propped his arms on the table, eyeing her seriously.
“I should be finished by your deadline. We’re at the point now where some rain won’t slow us down. Most of the big terrain movements are over and the large trees are in the ground. It’s just perennial and a few shrub plantings now. Francine and I . . .”
“You let my little girl pick out whatever she likes, you hear?” He patted Francine on the arm and slyly reached down and pinched her on the hip.
She jumped, frowned, but quickly covered it up with a sexy smile. “You are a devil, you are,” she said, leaning over to kiss him.
He laughed heartily and patted her on the arm.
“Now about money. Might as well give you another payment. Any new expenses we didn’t expect?” he asked. “Francine, get me that wooden box in the bedroom.” She disappeared from the room.
Cheryl tensed at being alone with the man but gathered her courage. “Nope. Actually, we came in under budget, Mr. Toledo. I always ask a bit more than I think it will take so no one is surprised.” She named a figure as Francine came back carrying a wooden box.
