African Violet Club Mystery Collection

by Elise M Stone

  However, as she picked her way through the clear spots, she noticed that there was something like a path, long unused, leading back into the foothills. Perhaps this had been how Ted and his family had gone to the natural spring in the past. Reassured by this thought, Lilliana quickened her pace, pushing her heart rate up and forcing her lungs to work harder. Going uphill added to the strenuousness of her walk, but she was fit and didn’t mind stretching her limits.

  The plant growth became more dense as she moved away from the land where the retirement community had been built. Creosote bushes and clumps of native grasses joined the cacti on either side of the path, blocking her view of her immediate surroundings. She could still see the mountains, of course, and the roof of the retirement home, but she felt like she was leaving civilization behind for the wilderness of an older Arizona.

  A family of quail, the chicks no bigger than darning eggs, scurried out of the brush on one side, across the path, and quickly disappeared on the other side. This time of day, there were plenty of birds calling to one another as they greeted the morning. She surprised a rabbit when she took a turn around a particularly large creosote bush. The rabbit froze in place for a moment before loping off into the desert and out of sight.

  Distracted by the movement of the animal, only after the rabbit was gone was her gaze drawn to the muddy pool on the opposite side. She’d found it. The pool was smaller than Lilliana had expected, maybe fifteen feet wide by thirty feet long. A rim of dried mud showed that it swelled to possibly twice its current size during monsoon season. The water didn’t look very deep. She couldn’t imagine that it had ever served to water a herd of cattle, but Ted had said the pool was bigger when he was a boy.

  Vegetation huddled around the water, including a few desert willow trees near the far end of the pond. Trees were so rare in Arizona, especially ones with the beautiful flowers of the desert willow in the summer, Lilliana was drawn to them as strongly as she was to the water. She would have to come back to this spot in May or June to enjoy the blooms. As she approached the trees, she was able to see the small stream that fed the pond. Unlike the pond, the stream was clear and sparkled in the mottled sunlight under the leaves of the willows. Lilliana squatted and dipped her fingers in the water. It was icy cold—at least compared to the warmth of the air.

  She followed the stream back, wondering if she could find its source, or if it was far up the hillside, higher than she was willing to climb today. The stream twisted and turned as it made its way through the rocky ground, finding the path of least resistance. She circled a particularly large willow tree and came upon a widening in the stream caused by an eddy around the roots. On the opposite side was the strangest bird Lilliana had ever seen. Its breast appeared to be flesh colored, while the wings were a bright yellow. It almost looked like...

  The bird hovered over a cholla cactus, plucking buds from its branches. Plucking?

  Birds didn’t pluck. Except with their beaks. Lilliana was quite sure the bird wasn’t using its beak. And the fluttering wings didn’t look like bird wings. They were more like butterfly wings, waving over the creature’s back then forward over its... arms?

  She shook her head. Surely her imagination was running away with her. If only she could get closer, she was sure she’d see what strange pattern of coloring was causing the humanizing effect. But before Lilliana could cross the stream and get close enough to see the bird clearly, it spotted her and flew off up the hillside.

  Lilliana hurried after the bird, anxious to take a closer look at it, but she was slowed by the difficult terrain. Each time she thought she caught a glimpse of the yellow wings, the bird darted off again. While the bird could fly in a straight line, Lilliana had to zig and zag around the rocks and the stream and the vegetation. She circled a gnarled ironwood tree. She was panting and thinking of giving up the chase when she came upon a second pond, slightly smaller than the first one, but filled with crystal clear water just begging to be drunk.

  Which it was, by a herd of javelina not ten feet in front of her. You didn’t have to live in Arizona long before learning about javelina, an animal that looked like a mutant pig, not pink like a real pig, but gray or black with an overly large head. It was a small herd, only seven animals, but Lilliana had no desire to tangle with them. She started to back away, but it was too late. One had seen her and let out a squeal of alarm.

  The muttering and snorting sounds they’d been making as they drank at the pond stopped, giving way to more squeals, snorts, and loud popping noises, and the herd began to scatter in all directions. The largest one, the one who had first seen her and trumpeted the alarm, headed toward her, mouth open to expose long, sharp teeth.

  Lilliana turned to run, but knew that she’d never outpace the animal in the rocky terrain. The trees presented another obstacle.

  Or salvation.

  Remembering the ironwood, she ran toward it, retracing her steps until she reached the only tree sturdy enough to support her weight. It had been close to fifty years since Lilliana had last climbed a tree, but she had a lot of motivation at the moment. The thud of hooves grew closer. She ignored the jabs from the spines of the baby saguaros beneath its branches as she ran to the trunk. She leapt and caught hold of a low-hanging branch with her right hand and grasped the trunk with her left, clinging to it for all she was worth. Putting her feet on the trunk below her, she pushed up until she could reach the branch with her left hand as well. It took all her strength—and the surge of adrenalin coursing through her veins—to pull herself up on top of it. For the moment, she was safe.

  But below her, the javelina circled, chuffing and snorting and waiting for his breakfast.

  Her skin dried quickly in the arid air as her heart rate slowed, and her breathing calmed from gasps to measured breaths. She sat very still on the branch, knowing the eyesight of javelinas wasn’t very sharp, and hoped he wouldn’t smell the sweat coating her body. She could certainly smell him. The strong, musky odor threatened to choke her.

  Twenty minutes later, the javelina lost interest in Lilliana and wandered off, snuffling through the vegetation.

  When she was sure it wasn’t coming back, she looked down and estimated how many feet it was to the ground. Maybe five or six. Still too far to take in one jump. She turned and grasped the trunk, hugging it like a lover, and stretched her foot in a pointe position as memories of childhood ballet classes came back to her. Her toes searched for the lower branch.

  Once she touched the rough surface, she tried to look down over her shoulder, but couldn’t see much while hugging the ironwood tree. She tapped her foot a few times, gauging the width of the branch and where the center was. Once she had determined the strongest place for her right foot, she repeated the process with her left foot.

  Lilliana took a deep breath, then slowly lowered her weight onto the branch as she slid her arms down the bark of the trunk. She winced as bits of skin scraped off her palms, but held on until she rested securely on the lower branch. Looking down, she was now only three feet off the ground. Close enough. She bent her knees until she was squatting, let go of the trunk to grasp the branch with both hands, then dropped her feet to the ground. She felt a twinge in her ankle, but other than that, she was in one piece.

  So much for her little adventure of the morning. She’d better get back. Lenny was surely done with his tennis practice and at breakfast by now. She didn’t want to miss her chance to start her investigation.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LILLIANA entered the dining room, having showered, put on clean clothes, and hoping she wasn’t too late. She exhaled as she spotted Lenny, Mary, and Nancy dawdling over coffee in the dining room.

  “Well, good morning sleepy head,” Mary said as she stirred a spoonful of sugar into her cup.

  “I thought you got up early,” Nancy said. “I’m the one who is always late for breakfast.” Evidencing this, scrambled eggs and toast remained on the plate in front of her.

  “I was up early.�
� Lilliana craned her neck, looking for a waitress to bring hot water for her tea. As usual, she’d brought her own Earl Grey teabags since the retirement home only served Lipton.

  “I can attest to that,” Lenny said. “I saw her heading out for a walk this morning. Where’d you go that you’re only getting back now?”

  “Ted told me about a stream that runs in back of the retirement home property, and I went to find it.”

  “Ted?” Mary asked with a sly glance in Lilliana’s direction.

  She felt her face redden. “Ted Pulaski. The owner of the grocery store.”

  “I didn’t know about any stream.” Lenny sipped from his glass of orange juice. Lenny never drank anything containing caffeine—no coffee or tea or even hot chocolate. He claimed caffeine wasn’t good for you. Lilliana didn’t know about that, but she’d take her chances. Starting her day without tea wouldn’t be starting the day at all.

  “Did you find it?” Nancy leaned forward eagerly. “I used to go fishing with my father when I was a little girl. We’d spend all day at the river. Sometimes we went to a lake. Mamma would fry up the fish we caught for breakfast. I’d love some fried fish. All they serve here is plain, baked, white fish. It doesn’t taste like anything.” She wrinkled her nose.

  The waitress had come back into the dining room carrying a fresh pan of scrambled eggs for the buffet table. Lilliana caught her attention and waved her over. Once her teacup was filled, she rose and said, “I’m going to get some of those eggs while they’re still hot. I’ll tell you about the stream in a minute.”

  While scooping scrambled eggs onto her plate, Lilliana thought about how to tell the tale of this morning’s adventure. Her inclination was to minimize it. If she mentioned the attack of the javelina, Russ Ellison was bound to make some rule about not going hiking off the paved trails. What fun would that be? Life in Rainbow Ranch was too calm for her taste as it was. She’d felt more alive since the unfortunate events of last weekend than she had the whole time she’d lived here. A lump rose in her throat, and Lilliana berated herself for even thinking about Bette Tesselink’s murder that way.

  On the other hand, it might be fun to exaggerate her adventure and see everyone’s expression. She should leave out the part about the bird, though. If she told them she thought it might not have been a bird, might, in fact, have been something out of a children’s story, there was a good chance someone would mention it to Kirstie. Or, worse, Russ Ellison. She had no desire to go through a psychiatric evaluation.

  Once she’d finished dishing out her portion of eggs, she took a slice of dry wheat toast and a packet of strawberry jam and headed back to the table.

  “So did you find the stream?” Nancy asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I did.” Lilliana opened the packet of jam and spread it on her toast.

  Nancy leaned forward. “Where is it? Are there fish in the stream?”

  Lilliana cut the piece of toast in half, put one half on her plate and took a small bite out of the other. She swallowed, then said, “I didn’t notice.”

  “How could you not notice?” Nancy asked.

  Lenny put a hand on Nancy’s arm. “I don’t think she ever went fishing.”

  Lilliana shook her head and realized what an amazing statement that was. In seventy years, she had never baited a hook, never held a fishing rod in her hand, never wrangled a fish out of the water. It seemed like something one should do once. She’d have to put “go fishing” on her bucket list.

  “So where is this hidden stream?” Lenny asked.

  “It’s not hidden,” Lilliana replied as she scooped up some eggs on her fork. Before putting the eggs in her mouth, she said, “It’s off to the northwest, behind the tennis courts.”

  Mary, who had been quiet, asked wistfully, “Could I get there with my walker?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Lilliana said and felt sorry for Mary. “The ground is uneven, quite rocky in places as a matter of fact. The stream ends in a muddy little pond not too far from here.” For some reason, she was reluctant to talk about the clear pool farther up the mountain.

  Nancy perked up at this statement. “Are there fish in the pond? I think a breading made with anise and coriander would be delicious on fried fish fillets.”

  Lilliana made an effort to not make a face. Licorice-flavored fish didn’t sound at all appetizing to her. “There was too much mud in the water to see.

  “I did come upon the oddest bird, though. The coloring was amazing. Its underside was flesh-colored, and the wings were lemon yellow,” Lilliana continued before she remembered she wasn’t going to talk about that. “I tried to follow it, but I ran into a herd of javelina.”

  Mary gasped. “Javelina! You could have been killed!”

  Lilliana realized she had shared a bit too much of her story. Between the dog and the javelina herd, it was a sure bet Ellison would issue a dictate about no walking on the grounds at all. “No, no. Javelina aren’t really dangerous. They just get excited too easily. I didn’t have a problem with them at all.” She wondered if there was a Presbyterian equivalent of confession for sinners, because telling that lie certainly had to count as a sin. She thought she’d better cover her bases on the presence of the javelina. “Let’s not mention the herd to any of the staff.”

  Lenny, knowing the results of such a communication as well as Lilliana did, said, “I agree. There’s no need for Ellison to know anything about the javelina. Or the pond and stream. Let’s keep that to ourselves.”

  Mary was already nodding, but Nancy didn’t look quite so sure. “But they could be dangerous. Although I would like to go fishing.”

  “I’ll make you a deal,” Lenny said to Nancy. “You don’t say anything to Ellison, and I’ll take you fishing tomorrow.”

  Nancy’s face brightened at that. “Would you? That would be wonderful!” Then her face fell. “But I don’t have a fishing pole.”

  “Maybe we can find one at the drug store,” Lenny said. “I’ll take a walk into town after breakfast and check.”

  “You are so good to me.” Nancy gazed at Lenny with cow eyes, her version of flirting. She looked so ridiculous, Lilliana had to cover her mouth with her napkin to keep everyone from seeing her choking back laughter.

  Willie O’Mara entered the dining room and turned his head from side to side, obviously searching for someone. When he spotted Lilliana, he headed in her direction, walking more slowly and leaning more heavily on his walking stick than Lilliana remembered him doing before. When he arrived, he asked, “Lilliana, could I have a word with you?”

  His eyes went to the others at the table, and Lilliana understood he meant alone. Just as she was going to suggest she meet him in the library in a little while, Lenny rose from his seat and said, “I think I’m going to go into town now. Would you like to join me, Nancy?”

  Nancy blushed. “I’d love to.”

  Lilliana realized that, if Lenny were going into town, she’d have to wait to question him. Not wanting to wait any longer than necessary, she quickly said, “Lenny? Today is watering day, and I realized this morning that I’m all out of plant food. Would you be able to lend me some?”

  “Sure, Lily. I’ll bring it to lunch.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to bother. I’ll stop by your apartment around 11:30, if that’s all right. Do you think you’ll be back by then?”

  Lenny smiled at Nancy. “Probably. The drug store isn’t that big. If I’m not there, just figure I’ve gone fishing, and we’ll arrange another time.”

  “Thank you so much,” Lilliana said.

  “I should be going, too.” Mary pushed herself up out of her chair and reached for her walker. “See you at lunch.”

  Lilliana watched Mary roll herself out of the dining room, while Willie settled himself heavily in the chair next to her. “Oof.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Willie said. “It’s my hip. Too many years riding around in a patrol car. Some days are better than others
. I really need a hip replacement, but my doctor wants me to lose fifty pounds first.” He grimaced, whether at the idea of going on a diet or from the pain in his hip, Lilliana wasn’t sure. His yellow knit shirt did seem stretched to its limit over his ample stomach.

  “It’s hard to lose weight without exercising,” Lilliana said, “but it can be done. All you have to do is eat less. Have salad instead of potatoes and skip dessert.” Her voice carried the conviction of the naturally thin.

  Willie smiled. “You sound like my doctor. Only I grew up eating potatoes every day. It’s the Irish in me.”

  Lilliana didn’t want to be rude, but he looked more like Othello than Macmorris, the only Irish character in Shakespeare’s plays. She had to ask. “The Irish?”

  Willie's smile turned into a grin, and he laughed out loud. “Gotcha, didn’t I? Well, it’s true. My mother was African-American and my father was Irish. Makes me true Black Irish.” He chuckled.

  Lilliana had heard the term Black Irish before, but wasn’t sure it meant what Willie was implying it did. She’d have to look it up later. Regardless, Willie thought it was funny, so she smiled back at him. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  Willie's face turned serious at that point. “I got a chance to talk to Ellison this morning.”

  “Yes,” Lilliana dragged out the word, encouraging him to say more.

  “Of course, first I got a bunch of ‘how terrible’ and ‘bad for the retirement community’ and that sort of thing. Not useful. We already know how sensitive Ellison is about bad press. But I just let him blather. A lot of times people will say more if you don’t interrupt them.” Willie paused. “Ellison did.”

  “What did he say?” Lilliana was getting as impatient as Nancy had been. Willie seemed to be enjoying making her wait.

  “He said, and I quote, ‘She never got to tell me what she knew.’ He seemed very frustrated. Then he mumbled something about ‘worth a fortune.’ When I asked him to repeat it, he looked alarmed, like he’d forgotten he wasn’t just talking to himself and said, ‘Nevermind.’ He hurried off to his office then.”