by Janis Lane
“Nice job. Now I have one favor to ask of you, Cheryl. You know we’re throwing a big bash at the end of the week. Francine, here, and I would like you to be our guest, wouldn’t we, Franny?”
Cheryl blanked out, speechless.
“Get yourself a swanky party dress.” He opened the box and took out stacks of bills, handing them over. “Buy the best. That’s me. Sam Toledo. Always buying the best.” He laughed his boisterous laugh, barking until he choked. “Think that’ll cover it?” He threw another stack of bills on the pile then closed the box with a snap.
Francine, standing behind Toledo, was staring at Cheryl with narrowed eyes, obviously not pleased to have Cheryl included in Sam’s generosity.
“Er, Mr. Toledo? I really prefer to buy my own clothes, but thank you for your very generous offer. This will cover the cost of the garden renovation very nicely, thanks.” She returned a couple of the piles of bills to him.
He pushed them back to her. “Nonsense. Won’t have it. You buy a pretty dress and come to the party. I gotta go. You girls have fun now.” He left the kitchen barking out orders for Lizzy to bring him his new suit.
“My baby is a very generous man,” Francine said with a smirk. “You’d best just do what he says. It’s much easier. Ask me. I know.” She stood up with her coffee cup signaling an end to their interview.
Cheryl felt numb. What had she gotten herself into now? No way was she going to be guest of a criminal and his gun moll. She closed her brochure deciding that Francine wasn’t all that interested in choosing the plants after all. She could finish the selections by herself and, no doubt, no one would care.
“I’d better get back out there to supervise the contractor, Francine. Thank you for the coffee. I think I have enough information to finish the job now.” She started toward the door.
“You know what I like by now, don’t you, hon? I’ve got to get busy with my man. He takes a lot of my attention, and I don’t intend to let him miss me too much.” She smirked and abruptly left the room.
Cheryl felt as if her head was spinning around like a top. David had warned her not to interact with these kinds of people and she wouldn’t listen. Oh, but then he wanted her to interact and spy. He was an irritating man. She hoped they would catch the thief or murderer or whatever they’re looking for. She wondered if the second man was the one that killed the other. Her imagination formed a visual of the two men dueling it out underneath the oak tree.
“No,” she said as she walked down the slope to where the contractor was planting a flowering shrub in its prepared resting place. “I refuse to entangle myself anymore.” She raised her hand in greeting. The owner of the landscape company she had called to move the largest plants operated his own heavy equipment. Tom Hager was just starting out in business, and they each referred to the other whenever possible.
“Hello, Tom. Can you believe how fast this job has progressed? The rain didn’t slow you down too much, did it?” She walked over to the shrub and knelt to give it a final cover. “You gave this hole plenty of water in advance, right?” She knew Tom could plant a shrub. Why did she always need to second-guess?
“This slope is perfect for shedding the rain, but we ran water in that hole for a good forty minutes. Enough?”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I never intended to grow up to be a neurotic.”
They laughed, easy with one another. She admired Tom and totally understood his passion for plants. They had formed, not a partnership, but a friendship. Tom was as reliable as the sun rising in the east.
The landscaper who dealt with the heavy stuff was a foot taller than she, but he had never ‘talked down’ to her. He respected her expertise in garden design, admired it even. He was a ruggedly handsome man in his mid-thirties with a deeply tanned face burned leathery. They had gone out together for a bite to eat, but Cheryl felt only friendly warmth toward him. However Tom felt, he had never once stepped over the line from friend to potential date. Why she couldn’t she fall for him? No doubt her life would be so much smoother.
She glanced around wondering where Larkin or his men had planted themselves. Nothing looked out of order. Men were working, mostly planting grass sod to cover the bare places. They all wore hard hats on the job and had their heads down while they worked. Larkin wasn’t the only man with large shoulders and huge biceps. She gazed across the landscape. That one could be him, or that one over there.
Nerves skittered across her back as she thought of the almost ultimatum Toledo had delivered. She was not going to be forced to do something against her will. He had already paid her more than he owed. By the end of the week, the job would be finished.
Dumb, she wasn’t. Unless that other man made an appearance before the end of the week, Detective Fowler would surely urge her to accept the invitation to the party. Larkin would be delighted, she guessed. Or not. He didn’t seem all that enthusiastic for her to be working for Toledo even though he had agreed to the deal. Oh, it was all so confusing. Why was she involved in police work? Did she get a degree from the police academy? No, she did not.
Her enthusiasm for the job had ended when the corpse turned up underneath the tree over on the Malone’s land. It linked this job with the potential next one. She would give her dad a call after dinner tonight. Perhaps he could shed some light on the background of the Malones before she needed to decide whether to bid on the job.
Tom Hager would appreciate the referral, and they could both use the work. He waved to her as he backed his equipment up. One more shrub to fill the space around the new little patio and that section would be complete.
She felt a thrill shoot through her. It was heady business to see something which grew from her imagination turn into real life, and she felt a justified pride. Her eyes roved over the undulating hillside where a combination of evergreen and flowering shrubs clustered here and there. A flowering crab nestled near a Bradford pear where banks of perennials were tucked against an ornamental stone wall, while a graveled path meandered through it all.
Near the intimate patio were brightly colored clumps of annuals. A birdbath already had a few customers sipping from last night’s rainwater. She intended to place a large Tuscany blue jar adjacent to the table and fill it with a combination of colorful annuals and cascading vines.
She was still wavering about the cutting garden. The decision needed to be made soon. Francine would want her ‘blue flowers.’ No way could she produce that magic so she intended to buy a bouquet from a florist as an end of the job gift. Blue lisianthus would do it. Never would she imagine anyone turning down a large bouquet of flowers that resembled blue roses. Lisianthus was a particular favorite of hers.
With her head firmly buried in her plans for the garden, she walked straight into David Larkin who beckoned for her to follow him behind a newly planted tall shrub. She looked over her shoulder and then slid behind the dense foliage where David grabbed her and kissed her firmly on the lips. She was almost getting used to being manhandled by Superman, the killer of precious plants, who turned into an Italian Stallion at the drop of a trowel.
Chapter 12
“David Larkin! Have you ever thought you might use a cell phone to communicate with me?” Head spinning, Cheryl fought to regain her composure.
“Yeah, but this is so much more fun. Honest, Cher, I tried to quit but you’re fast becoming a habit. I swear.”
Spying the twinkle in his eyes, she interrupted his easy tirade of promises by holding up her hands in front of her. “No, don’t. You know very well you’ll break your promises. You always have and it appears you always will.” She stepped back being careful not to pack the ground around the newly planted bridal veil Spirea.
“Whoa. That’s a bit harsh. I’m just teasing you, honey. Are you seriously upset with me?” He turned a wounded face toward her.
Cheryl felt as if she’d ki
cked a puppy. Why, oh, why, couldn’t she deal firmly with this man?
She frowned at him with narrowed eyes. “Okay, I’ll behave. Fowler wants me to tell you to come into the office this afternoon. Do you have time? I can drive you there if you need me to.”
He held her arm to keep her from stumbling backward. “Oops. Gottcha, sweets. This ground is pretty irregular although I’m really blown out of the park by the changes you’ve made around here. Just moved stuff around and shaped it all up.”
“It’s called the design, Larkin. It’s what I do.” She shrugged, feeling her words were wasted on hardheaded David Larkin—sexy but oblivious, part Superman, part dense German.
“I know, honey buns. And you do it very well, too. Who knew all those gardens you built in the sandbox would turn out like this?” He chuckled as she felt her face turning pink.
“I know a few things about you, too, Mr. Larkin,” she said, and mentally added, Mr. Plant Killer and destroyer of sand castles. “Why don’t we call a truce before I trot them out for the entire world to see? Perhaps your fellow officers would . . .”
“Okay, okay. Truce! I’m gonna get back to work. That friend of yours is a slave driver. You been out with him many times, have you?” he asked, almost too casually.
Cheryl wasn’t fooled.
“Tom Hager? He and I are old friends. We share a lot of interests and yes, we go out to get a bite to eat now and then. Why do you ask?” She shot him a challenging spear with her eyes.
“No reason in particular. Just wanted to make sure he’s not hanging around your house getting drunk.” With that parting shot, he ducked behind the shrubbery and disappeared.
She should have known better. David was quick on his feet, often just pretending he was too dumb to figure out the score. She rubbed her lips where his kiss had landed. Perhaps if she got a steel rod implanted in her backbone . . . No, she wasn’t certain she wanted to miss out on those casual and way-too-familiar kisses. Addictive, even when she pretended to dislike them. She’d never confess it.
Where would all this end? Detective David Larkin had moved next door and her life had been turned upside down. With rare self-honesty, she questioned, hadn’t he turned her life upside down many years before? He hadn’t been in her life for a while, but was never absent for long from her thoughts. She considered her crush on the man. She’d even gotten herself engaged, for heaven’s sake.
Paid for and almost completed, the design was a success. She would have dinner with Tom when it was signed off to deliver his cut in the pay as well. He had his own crew to reward, Larkin included in that group. Before it was all over, David would probably be posing for a working man’s calendar with shirt off and biceps bulging.
Detective David Larkin, Mr. July.
A shiver ran across her shoulders which Cheryl blamed on the slight puff of moisture-laden wind. She resolutely went back to work.
“I don’t intend to go to any criminal gathering. And I certainly do not plan to buy a dress with his money!” Cheryl was sitting in the office of Detective Kevin Fowler. She was relating the conversation she’d had earlier with Sam Toledo. “He made it almost a threat for me to be there. I firmly expect to be finished with Mr. Toledo by the time his guests arrive. I agreed to be on the lookout for those two men but nothing has happened.” She sipped from a very bad cup of coffee.
“I know how you must feel, Miss Esterbrook. And I do appreciate your patience. Especially in light of what happened over at the Malones. I’m sure you are very uncomfortable after that incident. We believe this group has some sort of internal issues which they’ve settled in their unorthodox manner. But we . . .”
“I can’t believe you’d even ask me to be over at the Toledo place after all that’s happened.” She sat the cup down with a jerk.
“I understand your feelings. If we thought you were in any danger, believe me we wouldn’t ask this of you.” He leaned forward with his hands clasped in front of him.
“How can you be sure I’m safe?” She thought of how David kept popping up unexpectedly while she was working.
“We have men stationed all around you, miss. Only we can’t enter the residence without exposing their cover. That’s where we need your help. If you would only be patient for a few more days. Until the end of the week.”
“I suppose you want me to continue spying at the darn party.” She slumped in her chair, dejected, already guessing the answer.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “If you would. You’re in a unique position to observe first hand that which we can only see from the outside. You still have the phone I gave you?”
She nodded.
“We’re still trying to get a couple of men inside with you, but, as yet, you’re our best bet. Believe me, Miss Esterbrook, this is important work. I can’t go into details, but I can assure you, these men are a blight on society. We need to rid our town of them,” he added firmly.
“Okay, I’ll hang in there until the end of the week. Under protest, you understand. If I get shot or something awful, I’m personally going to be upset with you all.”
“If I thought that were a possibility, but I don’t. You’ll be fine,” he finished then stood up, signaling an end to the interview.
David met her as she entered the hall. With his arm around her waist, he escorted her out of the building and opened her car door. Leaning in, he brushed her hair from her face, kissed a fingertip, and planted it on top her nose.
She stared up at him, losing herself momentarily in the warm, brown pools of his eyes.
“Can I take you out for dinner tonight?” he asked. “I know this great little restaurant.”
She shook her head no, and his face fell slightly with disappointment.
“I have plans for this evening,” she said, “but thanks for the invitation.”
He slowly closed her door and backed away resting his hand on the open window.
“Not expecting the gardening man over, are you?” He studied the tip of his shoes then looked quickly up at her. It annoyed her that he was prying. Couldn’t she ever be allowed to grow up? She didn’t need a baby sitter. It wasn’t funny anymore.
“No, I’m not expecting anyone over. I’m going out.” With that, she drove quickly away, leaving him standing in the street staring after her.
As she drove home, she contemplated David Larkin in contrast to Gordon Moore and decided they were both annoying as hell. Gordon wanted not just a fiancée but also a shadow, a slave, a female at his every beck and call. No matter how she calmly explained to him that her work was as important to her as his was to him, he paid no mind. To him, she was her father’s daughter and needed no salaried work. He was sincerely baffled that she would work with her hands—in the dirt! In that respect he was in agreement with her parents who were almost as confused.
True, they had paid for two degrees without a murmur of protest, the last one preparing her for the work she was engaged in at present. Her father was indulgent saying she should try out different jobs before she settled in for good. It was obvious he thought she would soon leave her venture on her own in Landscape Design. Her mother remained puzzled and disappointed in Cheryl’s career choice. She was even more bewildered when Cheryl announced she had terminated her engagement to Gordon Moore. Her father only commented she must know her own mind, but Cheryl suspected he was disappointed as well.
She laughed, thinking of the night he’d come in for a massage and fallen asleep in her bed. He hadn’t given it a second thought, falling into an old pattern of behavior from when they were kids. And she had protested only feebly. He was driving her distracted. She found it more and more difficult to resist him and resist she must or suffer a broken heart. The difference between Gordon and David was that with the former she had to resist him. On the matter of David, she had to resist herself. He was no more ready to
settle down with one woman than she was likely to give up designing gardens. She drove into her own driveway with a sigh of relief. It had been a long day and she was feeling stressed.
“Mom?” Cheryl dropped down on the back steps and spoke into her cell phone. The reception seemed best there in the open air. The late afternoon fragrances from her garden drifted past her nose and soothed with its sweet scents. The little faux hummer moth skimmed past her face with his melodic humming sound.
“Is Dad home? He promised to check into the background of the Malones for me. May I speak with him?” Cheryl kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes in the cool grass.
“Just a sec.”
A few minutes later, her father came on the line.
“Dad? Thanks for your help. Did you find out anything newsworthy?” Cheryl listened intently and frowned.
“All on the up and up? Do you suppose they know nothing at all about the crime committed on their property then?”
“Well, that’s a sort of relief. Just because we know nothing suspicious at this point doesn’t let them off the hook. Can you keep your ears open for me? I must soon make a decision concerning their project. What do you think I should do? . . . I know I must make the final decision, but I did ask for your advice this time.”
She smiled at her father’s tactful answers. He really was trying very hard not to interfere in her life except as a support system. He was a sweetie, her dad.
“Okay,” Cheryl said, “I know you’ll support me and I appreciate you wanting to stand aside and let me make up my own mind.” She sat upright and frowned. “Don’t say that! You and Mom will be around for a long, long time.” She made kiss, kiss noises into the phone and said good-bye.
