Murder Most Thorny (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 2)

by Loulou Harrington

  Behind her, the utility truck began an angled ascent to the top of the levee, its front pointed toward the thorn tree.

  “He’s going in there forward?” Jesse couldn’t help asking. “I would have thought maybe he should back in.”

  Marla shrugged. “I guess he knows what he’s doing.”

  “Well, I would feel a lot better about that if he had actually walked down there and taken a look at it.”

  “Oh, good point. I’ve been too worried about Mrs. Windsor to focus on much else.”

  “Why are you so worried about her?”

  “Probably because she doesn’t seem to tolerate fools very well, and I’m always afraid she’s going to decide I am one.”

  Jesse laughed, realizing the truth of the statement. “I can’t tell you how many years I worried about the same thing myself. I finally got over it when I realized that once Vivian decides she likes you, she’s the kindest person in the world and one of the best friends you’ll ever have.”

  “It’s a little early for me to put myself in that category. Oh, my goodness, Todd forgot all about Mrs. Rogers. She’s still sitting down there.”

  The truck inched its way toward the crest of the levee. As Vivian crossed the flat terrain dead center of where the truck was headed, she spread her arms wide in greeting. “What in the world have you gotten yourself into now?” she demanded, laughing as if it were a huge joke.

  “As I told the sheriff,” Jesse repeated primly, “I went fishing with a friend.”

  In the next instant Vivian was there, gathering Jesse into her arms in a cloud of expensive perfume, whispering in her ear, “Good heavens, child, I can’t leave you alone for a minute. Now show me this body in a tree. I’m dying of curiosity, and I think I smell a job for the Myrtle Grove Garden Club.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Oh, Vivian, no!” Jesse whispered urgently back to her. “Don’t even think that.”

  “But it would be such fun, and I hardly got to do a thing the last time.”

  “The sheriff has already made me promise,” Jesse warned her in an undertone.

  “We’d better get down there and move Mrs. Rogers out of the way,” Marla said. “She’s not going to want to be there when they take him out of that tree, and as much as I hate to, I really need to ask her some questions before she leaves.”

  “My goodness,” Vivian said, scanning the far end of the levee, “is that little Winnifryd Harkness sitting down there? I haven’t seen her in years.” A smile tugged at the corners of Vivian’s mouth and her cornflower blue eyes softened. “I remember how much that girl used to love my peanut butter cookies. I used to make an extra dozen when I knew she was coming over with you to visit. She was always such a sweet little girl.”

  Then Vivian’s head tilted to the side, and the slightest of furrows creased her brow. “Is she crying?” Whipping an accusing gaze around to the young deputy walking with them, she demanded, “Did you make her cry?”

  “No, ma’am, I did not,” Marla answered earnestly. “She was like that when I found her.”

  “Good.” Vivian relaxed her vigilant posture and redirected eyes that were beginning to twinkle back toward Jesse. “How about you? Did you make her cry?”

  “No, ma’am, I did not,” Jesse repeated with an answering twinkle. “But I do think Winnie needs to get out of here and go get drunk.”

  For a long moment, Vivian simply stared. Then her expression slowly turned incredulous. “Oh, dear heavens, please tell me she doesn’t know that man.”

  “I’m afraid the deceased is the ex-husband of Mrs. Rogers,” Marla supplied dutifully, then looked to Jesse. “I am correct, am I not, that they were divorced?”

  Jesse nodded. “I believe it was just made final recently. However, it appears to have been a friendly divorce,” she added just in case anyone found the divorce suspicious or coincidental.

  Vivian glanced toward the grieving figure keeping her lonely vigil. “I would say it appears to have been a very friendly divorce. She seems devastated. Any chance they might have reconciled?”

  “I’m not sure. He certainly wanted to, but Winnie and I didn’t get to talk about it much before that tornado popped up. I’m not sure she would have remarried him, but she might have considered being friends with benefits, if you know what I mean, even though he had a girlfriend he’d been living with for the last year.”

  “Well,” Vivian said with a sniff of disdain, “I can see why she might not have wanted to remarry him. And, no, I don’t know what you mean. Friends with benefits—what is that? Dinner occasionally? He fixes her plumbing for her? What?”

  Draping a hand over Vivian’s shoulder, Jesse dissolved into silent laughter, leaving Marla to step in with an answer. “That means friends, not romantically committed, but sleeping together.”

  “Really? They actually have a name for that now?” Vivian seemed pleased with the notion, while graciously ignoring Jesse. “My goodness, young people have become so practical.”

  “It can frequently lead to misunderstandings,” Marla added, “people being what they are and all.”

  “That’s an understatement.” Vivian removed Jesse’s hand from her shoulder and linked arms with her. “I swear, sometimes I’d think you were still twelve.”

  “Sorry.” Jesse patted burning cheeks with her free hand and shook off a lingering urge to giggle. “I seem to be having all sorts of inappropriate emotional outbursts today.”

  “Well, that’s understandable, I guess,” Vivian conceded, “considering the events of the morning. And poor Winnifryd. Coming across her ex-husband by accident is a shocking way to learn of a loved one’s death.”

  “Speaking of shocking deaths,” Marla said, all business once again, “we really need to go get Mrs. Rogers before that truck gets down there. And by we…” She fixed a determined gaze on Jesse. “…I mean you. She doesn’t seem to be connecting with anyone else.”

  “Come along, naughty girl.” Giving the arm she held a tug, Vivian began to lead Jesse toward Winnie. “We’ll get her up, and then while the nice deputy questions her, you can tell me everything you know.”

  “I almost got killed by a tornado this morning,” Jesse said. “That’s most of what I know. “

  “Did the tornado kill Winnifryd’s husband?”

  Jesse suppressed a groan, hating what she was about to say. Once Vivian found out the truth, there would be no stopping her, but then in another few yards, she would be able to see for herself, and Jesse had already had to apologize once. “There is a dark spot in the middle of his forehead that resembles a bullet hole,” she admitted.

  Vivian squeezed Jesse’s arm tight enough to cut off the circulation. “Oh, my heavens,” she hissed in a voice that quivered with excitement. “And I thought this would be just another dull weekend. Do you happen to know if Sheriff Tyler likes chocolate cake?” Relaxing her grip, she smiled and her words become a satisfied purr. “I do believe I owe the dear man something for calling me to come to your rescue.”

  Refusing to be sucked into Vivian’s cheerful scheming, Jesse stood her ground. “Stop that. You do realize, don’t you, that all he wants is for you to give me a ride home and then for both of us to stay as far away from him and this investigation as possible.”

  From a few feet away, Marla cleared her throat loudly. “I don’t hear a word you two are saying,” she announced when silence had fallen, “but you might want to say it a little quieter.”

  Undeterred, Vivian turned, smiled brightly and asked, “Do you garden, my dear?”

  “You mean like flowers and stuff?” Marla asked, sounding baffled.

  “Yes, flowers, herbs, vegetables, whatever. We recently formed a garden club, and one of our first projects was a winter garden for the Myrtle Grove town square. Now we need to spruce it up for spring. I had thought about inviting you to join us.”

  “Really?” Marla’s interest was clearly piqued. “Me?”

  “Her?” Jesse whispered, more outraged
than baffled. What in the world could Vivian be thinking by inviting a sheriff’s deputy to join a group that was conceived solely as camouflage for their interference in a previous murder investigation.

  “Fresh air, sunshine, and we usually have some sort of refreshments from the Gilded Lily.” Vivian continued her sales pitch while smiling sweetly at Jesse, who was exerting considerable self-control by not to putting her hand over Vivian’s mouth to shut her up.

  “Well, I used to help my grandmother in the summertime with her vegetable plot,” Marla conceded. ”So I guess I’m not completely inexperienced.”

  “It might be kind of hard to work it around your schedule,” Jesse offered lamely.

  As co-owner of the Gilded Lily, the tearoom supplying the refreshments Vivian promised, and as co-founder, along with Vivian, of the semi-mythical Myrtle Grove Garden Club, Jesse felt doubly involved. The tearoom at least was real, while the whole point of the garden club had been to give the members an excuse for their frequent and conspicuous gatherings, in defiance of repeated warnings by the sheriff to butt out. So, on the surface, it would seem a bad idea for Deputy Murphy to know anything about it much less to be a member of the group.

  “But I think we could include her in our next planning session,” Vivian insisted with the ease of someone confident she would get her own way eventually. “Then Marla could see if it sounded like something she might be interested in.”

  Jesse shrugged, completely lost as to what Vivian thought she was doing, but knowing that to continue arguing would only call needless attention to a group that was meant to be clandestine.

  “That sounds like a lot of fun,” Marla agreed, clearly warming to the idea. “I’ll give you my contact information after I’m through interviewing Mrs. Rogers.”

  To Jesse it sounded like they were lighting matches in a fireworks factory, but maybe Vivian really was just thinking about the gardening. And the new flower bed in the corner of the town square had been a successful bright spot in the winter landscape, with the pansies and purple kale and red-berried nandina offering color, even through the snow. And the bulbs they had included were up and blooming already.

  Spring had come early, and the last frost date would soon be past. Then it would be time to add early blooming flowers, and if the group could confine its sleuthing to lost dogs and wayward husbands, there shouldn’t be a problem for anyone, even the nice young deputy if she should elect to join them.

  Lost in her ruminations, Jesse was slow to notice that Winnie had risen and was approaching. Even as she wondered if their conversation had been too loud, Jesse became aware of the low rumble of a heavy motor and looked back down the levee toward the utility truck, which had crested the hill and was assuming a trajectory straight toward them. The ground beneath her feet vibrated with the weight rolling steadily closer.

  “Winnifryd, dear.” Vivian’s arms spread wide and she stepped out to greet Winnie, gathering her in as they met. “How are you? I’m so sorry to see you again under these circumstances. When we’re done here, I have an excellent wine cellar. Are you a wine drinker? I have other things, if you’d prefer. Cognac. Aged whiskey.”

  A shaky smile gathered at the edges of Winnie’s tear-chapped cheeks as she disappeared into Vivian’s embrace. “A good Kentucky bourbon sounds wonderful,” was her muffled response.

  “I have several to choose from. Malcolm loved a good bourbon and a cigar almost as much he loved me.” Vivian released her captive and stepped back. “But first it would appear that you have to talk to the kind Deputy Murphy. And then we are free to go.”

  With that, Vivian ushered Winnie toward Marla with a look admonishing the deputy to be as kind as Vivian had promised. In response, an expression of conflicted hesitation flickered over Marla’s face an instant before she stepped aside, inviting Winnie to join her.

  Jesse recognized the moment of hesitation for what it was. Allowing Vivian to influence her actions even slightly could be professionally compromising should the young deputy appear to cooperate. But saying no to Vivian wasn’t easily done. No one knew better than Jesse that when you entered Vivian’s world, you played by Vivian’s rules, and it was just as well that Marla Murphy realized what she was getting into before she joined the club.

  It wasn’t that Vivian expected to be kowtowed to. What she preferred and hoped for was grit and gumption on the part of others, something she had plenty of herself, and something she respected when faced with it. But that was a discovery Marla would have to make for herself when she was forced to defy Vivian head on.

  Watching Winnie’s sagging shoulders as she walked away beside the slim, upright figure of Deputy Murphy, Jesse ached to be there for the questioning. She hoped to goodness Winnie didn’t say anything about the bone. That should be saved for the sheriff and another day, and surely Winnie would be too tired and distraught to think about that now. Besides, there was no way a questionable bone found in a backyard could have anything to do with a man possibly shot to death before landing in a tree, and to mention it would just confuse things at this point.

  “You’re not happy with me, are you?” Vivian asked.

  “It would seem to be a really bad idea to bring a deputy into the garden club if we’re planning to do anything other than garden.” Jesse continued to watch the other two women who were making good progress in their journey down the levee to where they could have privacy.

  “She could be an invaluable resource, you know. Although, I do realize we would be taking a chance, and we might end up getting her into trouble again.”

  Still watching, Jesse saw the other women move to the far edge of the levee, carefully picking their way along the last foot of flat surface before it sloped downward in an uneven tumble of grass and rocks all the way to the shore of the lake itself. With alarmingly little clearance, the utility truck rumbled slowly past them, its cherry picker bucket swaying high overhead to the rhythm of the ruts beneath the truck’s tires.

  “I’m not sure Deputy Murphy would allow us do that,” Jesse said, shifting her attention from the retreating women to the truck itself. “I rather think that she might choose to put her career first and tell the sheriff about everything we were doing that could be a potential conflict of interest.”

  “Hm-m-m. I hadn’t thought of that.” Vivian sounded almost worried for the first time that morning. “That wouldn’t be good, would it?”

  “No, ma’am, it wouldn’t,” Jesse agreed. “In fact, I can’t think of much we could do that would irritate Joe Tyler more than to get one of his deputies involved in a clandestine attempt to undermine his authority.”

  “Oh, good grief, Jesselyn, you don’t have to put it that way. And stop calling me ma’am.”

  “Well, having had numerous conversations with the sheriff himself on this very subject…”

  Vivian’s hand on Jesse’s arm silenced her just as she was getting to her point. Vivian extended the other hand, banded about the wrist by an elaborate bracelet of black pearl and amethyst encased in heavy, gold scrollwork. Her index finger, flawlessly manicured in glossy plum, pointed straight down the levee in the direction they had just come from.

  “That’s a beautiful bracelet,” Jesse said, distracted by a level of bling she herself could never attain. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you wear it.”

  “Thank you, dear. Malcolm had such wonderful taste. But it’s rather dramatic, don’t you think, and doesn’t go with a lot of things.” After pausing to model the bracelet, Vivian extended her finger once again. “There. That truck thing.” She wiggled her hand for emphasis. “We’d better get a move on if we’re not going to get run over down here.”

  “Oh!” Refocusing her gaze, Jesse was startled by how close and large the vehicle advancing toward them seemed. She was no expert on these things, but it appeared to her that it would have to pull all the way to the end of the levee, where the spit of land narrowed to a point and seemed to crumble down into the water, in order to get the bucket far
enough forward to reach the tree.

  She looked behind her, to where there would be no room for the two of them to retreat. And Vivian, in her incredibly expensive, handcrafted Italian leather, breathtakingly beautiful spike heels wouldn’t do very well on the steep embankments on either side of them.

  “Really?” Vivian asked, brow quirked as if she had read Jesse’s thoughts. Then, raising her arm, palm extended toward the truck in a gesture meaning “halt”, Vivian slid her gaze sideways toward Jesse and grinned. “I don’t know which works better, being old or being rich, but either way…”

  Just ahead of them the truck obediently slowed to a halt and sat there, engine rumbling.

  Vivian’s smile assumed a Cheshire cat quality. “Now, I believe there’s a body just over here that you were going to show me.”

  Chapter Ten

  “How do you do that?” Jesse grumbled as she led the way toward the sight she was not eager to see again.

  Vivian sighed. “I lead a dreadfully spoiled life, I’m afraid. I just expect to get my way, and so far it seems to be working.”

  Jesse linked arms with the other woman and hugged her closer as they walked. She wasn’t going to say what she was thinking…that Vivian had led a far from charmed life. Her only child, Michael, who had been Jesse’s best friend and the love of her life, had died at eighteen in a car accident, and Vivian’s beloved husband Malcolm had left her a widow just eight years earlier.

  With each death, a light inside the older woman had dimmed, but she had never given into her sorrow. Instead, she flowed through life with a spirit and confidence that Jesse had always sought to emulate.

  “You’ve gone quiet,” Vivian said.

  “It’s been a rough day.”

  “Oh! My! God!”

  The shock in Vivian’s voice took Jesse by surprise. Lost in thought, she hadn’t paid attention to how far they had come. When she looked up, she saw Roy Lee Rogers, still upright and staring off into the distance as if there were something interesting happening to someone other than him.