The Begonia Bribe

by Alyse Carlson

  “Will do.”

  Cam went back out to see if anyone had found Lizzie. A crowd had started to build. It was amazing, in the most disturbing of ways, how stress acted as a people magnet.

  “Lizzie?” She shouted as she reached the crowd.

  Cam looked around desperately for security people, feeling it had reached the time where they needed to call the police. Fortunately, she spotted Annie and Mindy coming from the library, Lizzie plastered to Annie’s front with her head on her shoulder. Mindy tried to take Lizzie a few times, but Lizzie stubbornly clung.

  Cam ran over to them. “You found her!”

  “Reading. She was cuddled in a corner in the children’s section—went there after her interview with Rob because he asked about her talent, and the idea came from a book.” Lizzie had a Little Mermaid book clutched in her hand.

  Mindy looked like a wreck. Cam tried to steer them away from the commotion. Rob joined them. He’d heard about Lizzie and wanted to make sure she was okay.

  “I’m glad you’re safe, Lizzie,” Cam said. “Please don’t go anywhere without telling your mom or your group leader, though, okay?”

  Lizzie nodded, her head drooping.

  “Nobody’s mad at you. We were just really worried.”

  “Okay,” Lizzie said.

  Cam looked closely at Lizzie. “Annie and Rob will stay here and talk to you for a little bit, okay? I have to make a phone call.”

  Cam realized time was running out to tell Nell about the flower fiasco before she saw it for herself. It also behooved them to let her know while she could still get something going to solve the problem. She steeled herself for the call.

  * * *

  Vandalism and murder were not the best press complements to a children’s pageant, but as long as she was in the domain of bad news, this was as good a time as any to alert Nell to the vandalism she would see the next day.

  Cam punched Nell’s number into the phone, fighting the catch that her breath kept trying to make. She hated difficult conversations. In writing, she was fine—she could think and edit and make sure the details were presented in the right order. In person, she both had to stay on message and navigate someone else’s agenda. She preferred more control.

  “It’s Nell!” The woman was such a forceful presence, even over the phone.

  “Nell? It’s Cam. I’m afraid we have some bad news.”

  “Well, spit it out.”

  “We had some vandals last night—they destroyed a lot of the newly planted flowers. The lilies, with those sturdy stalks took the worst of it—they break instead of just leaning.”

  “And I’m just hearing now?”

  “I wanted our gardening guys to sort what could be saved first so that we had a bottom line for you. I have to admit I thought it was worse when I first saw, but it’s still pretty bad. They had planted almost everything—we estimate about 30 percent was lost—horrible people.”

  The phone was silent for a while.

  “Those tubers will come back.”

  “That’s true. It’s just . . .”

  “This year. Yes, I get it. Pretty pageant . . . I just think it might be best to replace with annuals. It’s cheaper for me by a long shot—there are several blooming right now. And since the tubers will come back . . . I think perhaps even begonias. I had an overshipment of red wax begonias, and I have several other varieties I could choose from.”

  “It’s a perfect solution. It definitely fits the pageant theme. Thank you so much!”

  “Be sure to file a police report. I can recover some of this with insurance if we do. I don’t suppose you’ve caught the vandal?”

  Police report. Nell had a point. Cam supposed it was inevitable at this point.

  “No suspect yet, but somebody also spray-painted the stage. My dad is building a trellis to cover that, and we’ll want to buy some flowers to weave in there, too.”

  “Buy, nonsense. On a stage you want silk flowers—no water source. Real flowers would need to be replaced daily—more often in the heat they say we’ll get. I’ve amassed a collection over the years. I’ll bring them along.”

  “Oh, you’re a lifesaver! Thank you!”

  “Any chance of increasing the font size for Nelly’s Nurseries?”

  “No, but there’s a strong possibility that Nelly’s Nurseries will make the news for their generosity after these vandalism events.”

  “Well, then, it’s a good deal.”

  Cam bit the inside of her cheek. She hated to do this, but Nell would be upset if she heard it elsewhere.

  “There was one other thing, probably unrelated . . .” She went on to describe what had happened with Telly.

  “Oh, my. When you say ‘one more thing,’ you don’t skimp, do you?”

  When Cam hung up, she had to just breathe for a few minutes before returning to her friends and Lizzie, but she finally managed. It was time to get back to pageant preparation.

  “Maybe you should let Lizzie’s mom get her back to rehearsal and I’ll tell you about my day,” Cam said to Annie. Rob, it seemed, had found another story angle to investigate and had taken off.

  Lizzie started shrieking at the suggestion of leaving Annie; everybody turned to stare.

  Annie squatted and set Lizzie in front of her so their noses were almost touching.

  “Remember how I said you could help me later?”

  Lizzie nodded.

  “Well, if I want to be free for that, I have some things I need to get done now.” Annie shook Lizzie’s hand and Mindy and Lizzie left.

  “Poor kid. Her mom doesn’t get her at all.”

  “You aren’t biased?” Cam asked.

  “About Mindy? Probably. She’s a status snob. But those were Lizzie’s words. She said, and I quote, ‘My mom doesn’t get me.’ And then she told me what she really wanted to be was a photographer. Well . . . maybe she called it a picture-taker, but I knew what she meant. I get her.”

  Cam wasn’t sure how much free time there would be to indulge this, but it seemed to be keeping Annie a little more mellow than normal and was probably relaxing Lizzie, who clearly didn’t want to be there.

  Cam looked up and saw Evangeline marching toward them. Cam quickly explained that the resolution with Lizzie had been fine and that Nell Norton had proven herself enormously generous about the flowers, provided they report to the police so she could make an insurance claim.

  Evangeline put her hands over her face, expressing perfectly how Cam felt. It was always something—in this case several somethings—and the pageant was starting that night.

  “Let’s go back to the office and sort this out.”

  “What about . . .”

  “Our volunteers seem to have it under control, but why don’t you check and meet me up there in a little bit?”

  Annie headed with her camera toward the crowd.

  Cam felt resigned. “Guess we should get back to normal, whatever that is,” she said, though as she looked up, she knew she’d spoken too soon. Benny was walking toward her with purpose. “I’ll meet you up there soon.”

  “Three suspects. We’d like you to look at them,” he said when he reached Cam.

  Cam followed Benny back toward the Arts Commission building.

  “We saw Michelle leaving, so we watched the tape from there. Overnight there weren’t that many . . .”

  “That’s good. It helps. Anybody coming in at night or early in the morning has some story. Maybe the security guard could help with who works in the building?”

  Benny’s eyes lit up again. “Right! Good idea!” Cam frowned. She wondered how much of Benny’s response was automatic from years of acting stupider than he was and how much was actually missing stuff because he’d played dumb so long.

  They reached the room. Cam had to first reassure Todd they’d found the lost child. She’d forgotten to call him when Lizzie was found. Benny then showed Cam clips that indeed looked suspicious—mostly because none of the people had used access c
ards to get into the building in spite of the hour. All had come in as someone else left. It didn’t mean they didn’t have access cards, but they certainly hadn’t proved they did on tape.

  The first was a man with slacks and a button-up shirt. Cam thought it hadn’t been long since he’d removed his tie and jacket. The crisp white shirt screamed sales, though he looked a little disheveled. He appeared suspicious mostly because he kept looking around, as if he were being followed.

  The next person was a woman who didn’t look at all suspicious, except she matched the worker’s description from the day before. She had khaki capris, a denim sleeveless blouse, and a broad hat. Sunglasses obscured her face and her hair was either short or tucked under the hat.

  “Only identifiable thing about her is size,” Dylan said.

  Cam started, looking behind her. She hadn’t realized he’d followed them in.

  “Boo!” he teased.

  Cam frowned and turned back. “What do you mean?”

  “Back it up, Benny. There. See how the dead-bolt plate is almost at her shoulder? She’s a tiny thing—only around five foot, I’d guess.”

  “I see what you mean,” Cam said. “So where’s our third person?”

  “People. Couple.”

  The tape caught a couple necking on the stairs and when the door opened to let a businessman out, the boy, clad in skater attire, caught it and held it for the girl, who had hair Cam could only describe as tortoiseshell—it had blotches of black and orange.

  “Ever hear the phrase ‘get a room’?” Cam asked. “Those two are just looking for some privacy . . . probably not what this building wants, but I doubt they have anything to do with us.”

  “I agree, but no saying they didn’t decide to pull some vandalism once they were here.”

  “Wagner?” Cam said.

  “What?” Benny said.

  “Whoever did this erased the pageant music and put a bunch of depressing classical stuff on Michelle’s iPod. It was planned.”

  “I thought all classical stuff was depressing,” Benny said.

  “No, but even if you think so, Wagner takes it to a new level.”

  She heard Dylan chuckling behind her and turned to glare.

  “Hey, I’m just agreeing with you. Classical in my book is Zeppelin or Black Sabbath, but my sister took a lot of piano, so I’ve heard more than a person should have to.”

  “Well, I’ll defend most of it, but I would reserve Wagner for suicide,” Cam said.

  “Or wabbit hunting,” Dylan joked.

  Cam was surprised he knew the Bugs Bunny opera was Wagner. She laughed, but knew she had to get back to meet Evangeline or Evangeline would worry.

  “I think that little woman is our vandal,” she said. “But for now, I need to go. Todd, can you save all of these?”

  Todd nodded.

  Cam headed back up to the office to join Evangeline.

  She rode the elevator to the second floor and locked the office door behind her. They needed a break.

  Evangeline crooked her finger and walked to a side table in the large office. She pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses and began to uncork the bottle.

  Cam thought it might be early to drink, especially with the pageant starting that night. But she also thought reminding Evangeline of that might make matters worse, so she just sat in the comfortable chair across the grand desk from where Evangeline would sit.

  “Am I cursed?” Evangeline finally asked.

  It was the last question Cam had expected. “What? No! You’re gorgeous, talented, happily married, and wealthy. How could that be cursed?”

  “Maybe I have too much and . . . God is trying to right things.”

  Cam leaned across the desk. “Evangeline, think of all the people with a lot more than you. The rich and famous, the politicians . . . Do you really think you have so much God would single you out?”

  Evangeline sniffed. “Sometimes, but I know it’s not rational. I mean . . . you know I haven’t always been good, but for a very long time I’ve at least tried not to be bad. And I try to show my gratitude.”

  It was true. Evangeline definitely had a colorful history, and some of it was not very flattering, but it was also true that she actively made a point of being kind and generous. Any past transgressions had been repaid long ago.

  The phone rang and Evangeline’s peaches-and-cream complexion turned to skim milk. Cam jumped to grab the phone.

  “Little Miss Begonia headquarters. Cam speaking.”

  The dial tone came on and Cam hung up triumphantly. She reached for her wine and took a sip.

  “Don’t answer it,” she ordered Evangeline. “Hey, wait a minute.” Cam pointed at the computer. “Can I log on?”

  Evangeline turned the monitor and pushed the keyboard to Cam. Cam clicked through to her email and found what she was looking for: the video clip from Todd Cummings. Cam turned the monitor back to Evangeline as she watched.

  “Do you know this guy? There!” She pointed.

  Cam paused the video and Evangeline stared for a long time and then frowned.

  “Yes, unfortunately. Why is he on a video you have?”

  “That was the man I told you about, the one who asked about you in the elevator. And he also has been working in the Arts Commission building. How do you know him?”

  “I went to high school with him way back when.” That was a little rich, Cam thought. Evangeline was only five or six years older than she was. “We went to a dance together, I think, but it never went anywhere. Then, when I first moved back to Roanoke—I suppose this was four years ago—my class was having its fifteen-year reunion. He and I ran into each other, had a few laughs, and then had a few dates. That’s when I learned he was married. It was the last straw for me and men my own age. I appreciate Neil’s maturity and integrity so much.”

  Cam could understand that, but she didn’t want to lose direction. “Okay. So what’s this creep’s name?”

  “Barry Blankenship.”

  Cam nearly choked on the wine she had in her mouth. “Like the father of Lizzie and Lauren Blankenship?”

  Evangeline’s face fell. “Really?”

  “I don’t know, but it might explain his hovering. I’ll talk to Mindy and see if she can confirm who he is.”

  “Cam. He’s a known liar, whatever else he is. He told me he was single and available, but he wasn’t. And you just said he wanted to see me?”

  “Yes?”

  “I doubt his wife knows what he’s up to.”

  Cam hated that idea, but didn’t disagree based on what she knew. “I’ll just see what Mindy has to say, okay?”

  Evangeline sighed and took a large drink, then massaged her temples for a moment before swallowing.

  “After this pageant, no more deviations from a normal routine for us, okay?” Evangeline said.

  “Even though it would put me out of a job, I think I agree!” Cam swallowed the last of her wine.

  Cam considered the luck they’d been having and felt quite fortunate that Toni Howe had been available. She hosted a live morning television show, but as a cost-saving measure, her station was running reruns through the summer.

  * * *

  Cam found Rob on her way out. He’d talked to girls about their excitement level, their respective talent pieces, and what it would mean to each of them if they won until they all left to gather their things for the evening performance. It was terribly cute to see handsome, athletic Rob talking to all these little princesses. They seemed very pleased with the attention. He’d done his last interview, though, an hour earlier and had been on his phone since then. The only people left on the grounds were setting up for the audience that would attend the pageant that night.

  “Jake says hello,” he said as he shut his phone.

  “Any news on the poison?” she asked.

  “Oleander,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah. That would do it,” Cam said. Unfortunately, it reinforced that whoever had committed th
e crime was knowledgeable about gardening, or at least plant-based poisons.

  She looked out at the men setting up chairs in front of the amphitheater and eyed the patched-up gardens and faux dogwood flowers. The begonias that would arrive the next day would do a better job hiding the damage to the lilies. They were also colorful and cheerful, something the sad, sagging lily heads were not. Most were currently bound to stakes to hold them upright, but they hadn’t forgotten their abuse. Cam wished they’d been able to get the begonias in that day, even if she knew the television cameras would be too far away to notice.

  CHAPTER 7

  “I sure wish with a dead judge they would let us postpone!” Evangeline was matching invoices to equipment in the staging area. Cam thought her comment was really just stage-night nerves talking.

  They both knew it was standard for television not to change scheduling because of advertiser expectations. Still, Evangeline seemed to want to talk about it.

  “Have you appealed to Judith Towers-Stevens?” Cam figured with a dead husband, she might feasibly try to find a loophole.

  “She’s the one who told me.”

  “She’s working? It’s only been a few days! And isn’t she a primary suspect? That won’t be good for publicity.”

  Evangeline shrugged and nodded. “She won’t bow out and the station is supporting her.”

  “Well, Toni is on board. I guess we can do it if we have to,” Cam said.

  “Why do people die on our watch, Cam?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  Cam looked up and saw Judith Towers-Stevens walking straight toward them. She wondered if the woman’s ears had been burning.

  “You should talk to her,” Cam said, thinking a society woman like Evangeline had a better shot at getting somewhere than she did.

  “I’m sorry, Cam. I just can’t.” Evangeline ducked away, leaving Cam to face Judith Towers-Stevens alone.

  Cam looked at her carefully. The woman was strangely dry-eyed as she got the camera crew into position for the evening.

  Cam plastered on her most sympathetic smile. “Ms. Towers-Stevens, I’m so sorry about your husband.”

  Judith swiped a hand irritably.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have an assistant or somebody else take over?”