John frowned. “How much blood did the docs estimate she’d lost?”
“All right. So she was taken.”
“How much?” His voice had a chill. Debbie wouldn’t argue with him, knowing he expected answers.
She gave a long drawn-out sigh. “Enough she couldn’t walk around on her own. Before you ask, we’re keeping in contact with all the nearby hospitals, the one on the island and various points on the mainland. If she shows up at a medical facility, then we’ll know.”
“Did the police get any information from Peabody?” John wasn’t surprised the detectives let her be involved with the interrogation. She’d been with the FBI for a short period of time and she had a way of working a suspect.
“Nothing of consequence. He keeps mumbling about killing Mary. Poor sweet Mary.” A soft snort came across the connection. “He did take a breath to ask me to post bail.”
“He didn’t volunteer where the diamonds had been hidden?” John set the journal and pad of paper on the end table.
“No such luck. He’s close to disclosing his partner, though. I’m dying to tell him we already know, but I want to find out what his threshold is.” She chuckled low in her throat.
“I’m glad you get your rocks off by mentally torturing detainees.” John sorted through the jewelry, selected a thick S-link bracelet with tiny ‘I’s and ‘O’s engraved on each link. A beautiful example of her craft, she was extremely talented.
“Do you want me, once I’m all hot and bothered? We could finish what we started on the ship.” She sounded serious.
He reached under his white t-shirt, scratched his stomach and then tugged the string on his lounge pants. “Debbie, you know when I kissed you I was trying to get Mary–”
“Just messing with you, Kajiyama.” Although she added a joking lift at the end, her tone sounded wistful.
“Oh. Good night then, I’m going to search for clues.” John, on bare feet, moved to his desk and sat in the upholstered chair. He removed the MP3 and drew up his databases. To find Mary, if she was hiding from Peabody or his partner, he had to track down her friends. The way she’d talked about them, they meant a lot to her. Mary’s intimate group would lead him to her.
He had to drive to South Carolina.
Chapter 12
Mary snuck a peek at Mrs. Landware, who pulled Frank to the side near one of the rough plank walls of the shop. Outside the window, past the whispering couple, Mary could see enormous pine trees, Douglas fir if she remembered her Pine Trees 101 lesson correctly. The dark green flat leaves encircled the branches and mixed well with oak, maple and beautiful red cedar trees. The frost-edge lined panes added character to the winter scene. The state of Vermont in November was stunning. Artificial Christmas trees with blinking LED lights near the edge of the carpet runner decorated the store entrance. Snowfall was promised which would add background ambiance for the setting through the massive windows. Each time the door opened, chilled air brought fresh balsam-pine scent of live evergreens into the gardening store. The fragrance mingled with cinnamon sticks and mums, sweetly taking her back to her family childhood Christmases, when life was simple.
“Frank, I want to talk to you about the new girl.” The tiny green velvet hat shifted on the petite woman’s small, tightly-wound white curls. A cream blouse peeked from under her emerald wool coat. Black flaps of high boots brought the ensemble together, making Mrs. Landware resemble the Travelocity elf standing among the fake trees. Multicolored speckles flickered, casting a rainbow around her pale face.
“Yes, Mrs. Landware, I’ll be happy to discuss our store. As for Mary, she has only been with us two weeks.” Frank glanced at Mary and winked.
The Christmas train on a track installed near the crown molding let off a whistle as it passed overhead. Mary’s heart relaxed a little. She loved this job and certainly couldn’t find another in such close proximity to her current place of residence. The Garden and Floral Design Center was a mile from Phoenix’s brother Dane’s guest house, which enabled her to walk or ride Dane’s 1950s bicycle. Cage, Vermont was Kinsdale painting perfect, and she planned to start a new life here. Even if she was cleared of the jewel heist, she’d stay. A fresh start.
The mothball-scented woman wagged her finger at Frank. He shifted to stand closer to the miniature pencil Christmas trees near the display window of the store, and to Mary’s dismay, a little farther from eavesdropping range. His bald head shone in the dim lights as he bent as much as possible over his portly belly to reach for a fallen tin soldier from the cream and brown tiled floor.
“She’s wonderful. I want her to create all of my floral arrangements in the future.” Mrs. Landware nodded toward her and then tugged Frank’s lapel, pulling him within inches of her lined face. “Can I have her for an entire weekend to decorate my house for the holidays? Relatives are coming in a couple of weeks and staying until Christmas.”
“I’m sure we can make arrangements for her to create floral designs for your home.” Frank untangled her fingers from his jacket. Straightening his bent spine, he shoved his hands into his pockets.
“This weekend, she can come to my house and see what we’re dealing with.” Mrs. Landware waved her hands. Tim, the carry-out boy, hoisted the large American red rose and baby’s breath bouquet wrapped in cellophane and followed her.
The double doors shut, leaving a tinkling of bells in its wake and a fresh rush of North Woods scent.
Frank pivoted.
Mary quickly refocused on the partially arranged fresh flowers, turning the container to check all the sides for equality and balance. Fall shades, full and vibrant reds, oranges, and ochre, autumn colors were at their best. The scents, undeniably unique to the north, were refreshing to a southern gal.
“You heard?”
She glanced away from the pungent lilies. “I believe Marvin out in the cut balsam trees area could have heard.”
“Do you want to do the special project?” Despite his age, Frank had some vibrancy in his movements, as proved by the sudden bounce of his heels. He could often be heard validating his love of life, and it showed in every word spoken or action taken.
“Of course. I’m not sure where she lives, but if I can get there by bicycle, I’ll go.” Floral arrangement complete, she placed the container in the refrigerator. “She’s a sweet lady.”
“You can use one of the Center’s vans.” He glanced around the interior of the store and then out the large bay window. “You have a driver’s license, right?”
“Yes.” A swipe to clear away the debris on the surface of the dark gray granite work counter, and she took the orange cleaner and a fresh rag in hand. She sincerely hoped he believed her and did not insist on seeing her license. Dane had helped her to obtain the job. He hadn’t divulged what was said, but Frank hadn’t argued when she’d asked for her pay to be in cash. Curious maybe, but he’d held the questions inside. Mary had promptly created a Frank-the-prior-gangster scenario in her head to explain why he didn’t query the oddness of her request of payment.
“Great, once Landware gets the word out, we’ll have more opportunities.” Behind his glasses, his eyes shimmered with dollar signs. “Lots of holiday bonuses for us.”
Frank strutted to the window and slapped his hand on the wood base. “Betty hasn’t started working on this. Will you finish the display while you’re here today?”
“Yep. Got a cute idea. Should I pass it by Betty first?” Betty, the other floral designer, didn’t like ‘having that girl around’. Mary had overheard that conversation. “The new girl doesn’t know flowers.” Which was true, but Mary knew design. Whether the materials came from gold, silver or a glass case holding blooms, she could work them into an attractive object, because she needed beauty in her life.
“No. When she comes in this afternoon, send her to me.” Frank took a step toward his office and stopped. The scarred antique oak door gleaming from a recent waxing reflected his grin.
“Devon, good day. Here for yo
ur weekly floral arrangements?” Frank tapped him on the back.
Mary had encountered Dr. Devon Buckley three previous times. He was an attractive man, six-foot, pure silver hair, a couple of wrinkles around his eyes, and straight white teeth. The Richard Gere look-a-like had jumped from the movie screen and stood in front of her cold flower fridge, making her heart thump in joy at viewing such splendor.
Dr. Buckley shook Frank’s hand. “Yes. I must admit I like the new bouquets you’ve got on hand.” Despite his deep voice, he was soft spoken. Almost like he was comfortable with himself, his life, and no one could disrupt his zen. “I’ve been here a few times recently.”
“I think it’s the new girl,” Frank stage-whispered.
Dr. Buckley glanced at her and smiled, just the corners of his mouth going upward. They both knew she was way beyond “girl” status, but since Frank Cartwright was at least sixty-five, he could get away with calling her a girl.
The knot on her scarf hiding the large bandage covering her wound slipped as she turned to get a vase. Once the container was on the counter, she moved the cloth up, then extracted a dozen yellow roses from the tub in the bottom of the fridge.
“I’ll let you get to your business, Frank. It was nice seeing you.” Dr. Buckley edged close to the work station. “You know me already, Mary?”
Heat rushed to her face. Had she unconsciously disclosed her admiration for his beauty? “You’re a regular, Dr. Buckley.”
“I thought we agreed you’d call me Devon.” He extracted a greeting card from the acrylic stand on the counter with his lean, nimble fingers and wrote on it like he always did. Devon would ask her to place it in the fresh roses just as he had the last three times.
“Sorry. Devon, will this arrangement work for you?”
He didn’t look at her or the flowers, but nodded and continued writing on his card. All right, anything would be good, which meant the man wasn’t picky or he trusted Frank’s employees would give him nothing but the best. Maybe she could toss a bunch of thistles in a vase and he’d say, “I like it.” Who did he give the flowers to? No wedding ring in place…did he have a wife? A man that handsome had to have a woman by his side.
“Mary, I couldn’t help but overhear Mrs. Landware’s request. I’d also be interested in having you decorate my house. My son is a freshman at Stanford and has been gone for several months. I’d like this Christmas to be special, a welcome home. Do you think we could make arrangements?” He stared with his dark brown eyes as if searching for something hidden.
“Sure. I’d like that. What’s your son’s name?” She finished wrapping the flowers and tucked the arrangement and bundle in a bag to keep them safe from the sharp, cold wind. Snow was predicted. She couldn’t wait. Growing up in the south provided her limited experience with the fluffy white stuff.
He extended the card. “Eric. He’s interested in finance.” Her hand tightened on the bundle. “Next week I’ll bring some dates that would work for me.”
Tucking the white parchment inside the bouquet, she held out the sack. “Fine. I’ll look forward to making your house special for your family.”
Devon went through the exit and Mary started working on the window display. Joy at the compliment Frank had given her, considering she had zero experience at floral design, would last for several days. In the past three weeks of living in Cage, she’d learned the people of the community were honest and old-fashioned. She loved their quirky witticisms and the little tidbits of wisdom they’d shoot her way.
Sorting through the storage closet, she found a strand of lights shaped like candles. Several boxes later she found replacement corms, and after testing each one and changing the bulbs, the wired decoration worked perfectly.
As agreed earlier, Tim, the high school kid who worked part-time, tacked pine boughs to the window frame. Dane had promised to deliver an old tricycle and antique grizzly bear from his attic, which would be the centerpiece of the display. She’d passed the idea by Betty when she’d called in sick.
Tim left to help a customer. Mary strung lights and crimson berries through the greenery. The fresh pine scented the area with crisp hope. She’d give the Cage residents a Dickensian Christmas, complete with white poinsettias to act as snow. She went outside and glanced at the window. Tonight she’d pull some vines from the woods to add a little rustic brown.
“Hey Mary, Mr. Bushard dropped these boxes off. He said he was in a hurry, something about a dinner with blah blah blah. Where do you want them?” Tim tugged two large boxes in front of the entrance.
“Could you put them near the window inside, please?”
Tim nodded.
“Thanks, buddy.” Chilled, she rubbed her arms and followed him.
Tim unpacked the tricycle, bear and a child’s rocking chair. Thrilled at the decorating possibilities, she hoped the bay window ledge might have just enough room for all three.
Mary situated the items on the pristine sheet masquerading as snow, then the white poinsettias and added holly sprigs here and there to fill the gaps.
Boxes folded, Tim flipped the Closed sign on the windowed door. “Hey, Mary, need a ride home?”
Tim drove a small truck, which seemed to sit low to the ground. At night, blinking lights appeared underneath. He was always willing to hoist her bike into the back and give her a lift.
“That would be fantastic, I’m wiped out. Just let me close out the cash register.” A glance at the sales total, and she compared it to the money banked. They equaled. She zipped the bag, unplugged the lights and walked toward the office.
“I’ll put your bike in the truck while you hand over the goods to Frank.” Tim gave a two-fingered wave and rushed out the back door.
Frank, naturally a chatty person, was on the telephone as she placed the bank bag on the desk. She waved good-bye to him, silently thanking the caller on the phone, and rushed to the coat rack.
Grabbing her borrowed anorak, Mary slid into the garment and pushed the sleeves up. Dane had found the coat in the attic and mentioned the bear and the child’s bike. He’d agreed to let her borrow them to decorate the guest house. Now they were going in the center’s window.
Double-checking the store, she unplugged an electric candle and rushed outside to the truck. Tim, settled behind the massive steering wheel, bobbed his head to the loud country music, pounding against the dash. A nod and he unlatched her door. The cold metal squeaked, echoing off the trees as it squealed open. The muted blue metal cracked off, exposing the rusted structure underneath.
She climbed onto the split black leather seat and placed the belt across her waist. “Thanks again for the ride,” she shouted.
The decibels went down to human level. “No problem. Like I said before, your house is on my way.”
A few minutes later he pulled into the lane leading to her temporary home. Tim threw the gear into park and jumped from the cab. As he removed the bike from the back end, she got out of the cab and joined him. “Here you go, Mary. Good night.”
“Good night, Tim. Thanks.” The bike, easy to guide but suddenly heavy, stuck in the land ruts. She sluggishly pushed it forward and leaned the two-wheeler to rest against the rough logs of the guest house. As she unlocked the door, she envisioned a long bubble bath, followed by a soothing foot rub and a cup of soup with hopes to warm up before she gathered vines. Maybe she’d cut back the creepers from the grape arbor, which was closer than the woods. Anxious to get inside the building, she tried to ignore the footsteps pounding on the brick path behind her.
“Mary!” Dane shouted.
Exhale, she told herself, and half-pivoted, keeping beside the door. Her hand, ready to pull the lever, didn’t waver. He swiped his longish brown hair from in front of his periwinkle blue eyes and smiled. “Did you get the boxes of toys?”
“Yes, thank you. What’s up?” She flung the door open and placed her keys in the dish on the small foyer table. A few minutes and a couple of steps, and she’d be lounging in that sweet claw-f
oot tub. In the meantime, she unbuttoned her coat.
“I–Alex and I–were hoping you’d come to dinner. We have a setting for eight and the female just canceled. I need an eighth, and a woman.” He bit his lip as if afraid she’d say no.
She couldn’t respond with a negative. Dane and his partner, Alex, had invited her to live in their guest house rent free and for as long as she needed. “Sure. When?”
“One hour. Do you have a dress? Something more formal?” He raked his glance down her tee shirt and jeans. She didn’t have a great selection of clothing. Being on the run limited what items could be transported. An instant image of her cayenne red dress left in her cabin on the ship flew into her mind. Thoughts of John followed. She had to get him out of her head. They’d had a one night stand, period.
“Nope.” Her throat closed, she coughed to clear it. “I’m sorry. When I get paid I’ll buy a few bits and pieces.”
He grinned. “No worries, Phoenix always leaves clothes here. She’s taller than you, but in a dress it probably won’t matter. I’ll select something and bring it over.”
“Great. I’ll be in the tub, so just leave it on the bed.”
Dane’s dry hands rubbing together, resembled the crunch of leaves. Bouncing from foot to foot in front of the door, he turned to leave. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. You’ve one hour.”
“Good. I’ll be ready. Oh, and Dane, I’ll need heels.”
He nodded and hurried down the sidewalk.
Mary shut the door, toed her shoes off and strode into the bathroom. With the black rubber disc inserted into the hole, she started the water, adding a dollop of citrus scented bath beads. Vermont was bone-chilling cold maybe the summers would be hot. She’d adjust, because there wasn’t any going back to her home.
Her heart clutched. Her parents existed in her heart and mind and not the physical structure she’d called home. Now, she was alone without mementos to help remember the good times. Besides, she loved the people of Cage.
Jewel Hiest Page 10
