“Hello, Kirstie. Have some shopping to do?”
“Oh. Oh, yes.” Kirstie held up the bag now, as if to show it wasn’t anything unusual. “I ran out of a few things in the clinic and decided it was better to come here rather than wait for our normal delivery.”
Odd, thought Lilliana. She would have thought Kirstie would more likely find clinic supplies at the drug store than the grocery.
“Well, I better get back. Someone might be waiting for me.” With that, Kirstie rushed toward the door and rapidly exited.
“I’m so glad you could make it for lunch today,” Ted said as he came out from behind the counter. “I knew I’d have trouble with that plant.”
He went through his ritual of turning the sign on the door to closed, holding the door for Lilliana, then locking it behind him. “Would you like to go to the café for lunch again?”
“Is there anywhere else?” Lilliana asked.
“Well, as a matter of fact, there is.” Ted’s face reddened. “I was thinking we might go to my house to eat. That way you could see my African violet and show me what I’m doing wrong.”
Lilliana was somewhat taken aback. Raised in an era and a society that didn’t approve of ladies going to gentlemen’s houses alone, the idea of going to Ted’s both worried and titillated her. Would he try something? Did she want him to? Don’t be silly, she told herself. You’ll be perfectly safe. And, if the food was inedible—Lilliana having experienced what bachelors considered food before—she could easily wait until dinner to eat if necessary. “Why, that would be nice.”
Ted smiled in relief. “Good. This way.”
He turned right, crossed Canyon Road and headed south. After a short distance, he turned onto a little side street called Calle del Sol—Street of the Sun. The street was lined with small territorial houses on large lots. The territorials were constructed of adobe, with flat roofs and vigas, wooden roof beams, protruding along the tops of the walls. The neat yards, mostly weed-free, planted with assorted cacti and agaves, showed pride of ownership, but didn’t have the manicured look of being professionally landscaped. Ted turned in at the third house and led the way to the front door.
The house was cool inside. That was one of the benefits of the old, thick adobe walls. They kept out the heat of the Arizona sun. A beehive fireplace in the far corner, which wasn’t all that far away, was the focal point of the living room. The house sported a lived-in look, the furniture slightly worn, the rugs on the tile floor slightly faded, a layer of dust covering the tables. An archway at the back of the room led to other parts of the house.
“It’s very nice,” Lilliana said. “Have you lived here long?”
“I bought the house when I sold the ranch,” Ted said. “About ten years ago.”
“That long? I thought you gave up your property more recently.” The retirement home had only been open three or four years.
Ted nodded. “Yes, that long. Of course, it doesn’t seem long compared to the time I lived on the ranch.”
“But what was Ellison doing for all those years before he opened the retirement home?”
“Getting permits. Zoning changes. All the usual bureaucratic stuff. A lot of people in Rainbow Ranch feared the town would become too populated, too citified, if they allowed him to build. He eventually convinced them of the benefits to their businesses. And, when people expressed concerns about an increase in crime, he volunteered to finance the police department. We didn’t have one before. We let the county sheriff take care of what we needed, which wasn’t much.”
“It’s not a very big police department,” Lilliana commented.
Ted smiled. “Well, no. Ellison bought the police car and started a fund with enough to pay a year’s salary for the chief. It’s not as if we ever had a crime wave to deal with. Until now.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call this a crime wave,” Lilliana said. “So far, all we have is one murder.”
“True. But that’s one more than we’ve had in my lifetime. Would you like to eat first or look at the plant?”
“Where is the African violet?” Lilliana started looking for the S. Ionantha and spied it just as Ted gave her the answer.
“Right there.” He pointed at a table in front of a window next to the door.
The African violet did look sad. In only a couple of days, several of the flowers had turned brown around the edges, and the leaves were wilting. Lilliana stuck a finger in the soil. It was bone dry. She examined the light coming in the window with a critical eye.
“There are two things African violets need,” she said. “Water and sunlight.” When she saw the blank look on Ted’s face, she quickly added, “I know. Every plant needs those. But African violets, if they’re to bloom and thrive, are particular about both.”
Ted was paying close attention. He apparently cared about the plant and wanted to improve his knowledge, so Lilliana went on. “Did you see how I stuck my finger in the soil?”
Ted nodded.
“It should feel damp, but not wet to the touch. The soil is too dry. This is a self-watering pot, so you only need to fill the bottom part and let the water percolate up through the soil to the roots.
“The light looks okay, but you may need to adjust that as time goes on. Direct sunlight is often too strong in Arizona. You might have to pull the curtains closed later in the year.”
“But why are the flowers dying?” Ted asked.
“That could be totally normal. Species plants don’t hang on to their blossoms very long. Or it could be shock at a change in the environment. Don’t be afraid to pull them off. You don’t want all the water and nutrients to go to dying blossoms. You want those used to grow new blossoms.”
Lilliana paused and considered. “The air is rather dry here.” Her sinuses were already complaining about the lack of moisture. She’d gotten so used to the humidity in her apartment, she didn’t think about how dry other people’s homes were. “It will probably take time for this little fellow to adjust. You might need to increase the humidity around the plant.”
“How do I do that?”
“Well, start with putting a pebble tray underneath the pot.” When Ted looked puzzled, Lilliana described what a pebble tray was. “You can use any watertight tray, about an inch high. Fill it with clean stones or marbles, then add water. The stones give the water more surface area from which to evaporate. You also might want to make a mini-greenhouse by tenting some plastic sheeting over the pebble tray. That will keep the water vapor inside.”
Ted pressed his lips together. He looked overwhelmed by the amount of information. “Will I have to do that all the time?”
“No. You can gradually open up the tent and let more of the dry air in. You mostly need it while the violet gets over the shock of moving from my apartment.”
“This is a lot more complicated than I expected.” Ted’s expression told her he was not convinced he could grow an African violet.
“Oh, you’ll get used to it.” Lilliana laughed.
“I hope so.” Ted turned away from the window and asked, “Are you ready for lunch now?”
“Certainly.”
Ted led the way through the arch at the back of the room into a sunny kitchen. A table on one side of the room, painted in turquoise and topped with tile in bright Mexican designs, could easily seat six people. Ted opened the refrigerator and took out a Tupperware container and a large, green bowl and put them on the table. Then he opened a cabinet and removed two plates, got flatware out of a drawer, and took a package of Kaiser rolls out of an old-fashioned bread box. Lilliana hadn’t seen one of those since she was a child.
“The food may not be fancy, but it’s good.” Ted sat at the table and removed the covers from the bowl and the Tupperware.
If Lilliana wasn’t mistaken, the bowl contained potato salad. The Tupperware container held slices of roast beef, ham, and American cheese. She picked up the serving spoon and scooped some potato salad onto her plate.
Ted put sli
ces of ham on a roll, squeezed mustard on top, then added a slice of cheese.
Lilliana did the same and then commented, “I see you shop at that Pulaski Gourmet Grocery in town.”
Ted quickly covered his mouth to keep from spitting out food as he laughed. “They carry good cold cuts.” He took a sip of iced tea. “I made the potato salad myself. I’d like to sell homemade potato salad in the store, but preparing it takes too much time to keep it in stock.”
She tasted the potato salad. It was quite good. “Do I taste dill?”
“You have a discerning palate. Yes, I use dill and paprika and a dash of dried mustard.”
There was silence as they ate their food. After a few more bites, Lilliana said, “I found that spring you told me about.”
The hand holding Ted’s ham and cheese sandwich stopped halfway to his mouth. “You did?” He seemed to be waiting, almost as if he were hoping she’d deny her last statement.
“Yes, I did. The first pond is a bit muddy, but the stream itself is quite clear and refreshing.”
“First pond?” Ted’s right eyelid twitched.
Lilliana nodded. “Yes, the first pond. You must know there’s a second one farther up the side of the mountain.”
“Yes, I’ve been there. I’m just surprised you went that far.” Ted forced his hand to bring his sandwich to his mouth and took a small bite.
“Oh, it’s not all that far. I would have gone farther if I hadn’t run into a herd of javelinas.”
Ted started chewing his sandwich slowly. After he swallowed, he said, “I didn’t know there was a herd back there.”
Lilliana recounted her adventure with the javelinas and the tree, trying to turn it into a funny story even though she had been terrified at the time. “I might go back to the pond another day.”
Ted’s head jerked up. “You will?” He recovered and added, “What about the javelinas?”
“Oh, I doubt that they’ll harm me. I just startled them today. Now that I know they come to the upper pond to drink, I’ll watch out for them. I’m sure I’ll be okay.”
“Maybe I should come with you,” Ted said.
“That’s really not necessary, Ted,” Lilliana said. “Besides, you have a store to run.”
Ted glanced up at a clock on the wall. “Yes, I do. And I’d better get back so I can open it. Do you want any more potato salad? Would you like some to go?”
Tasty as it was, Lilliana doubted she’d eat any more today. She declined, saying something about having some another time. She wasn’t just being polite, as she had been with Nancy. She meant it and hoped to enjoy more of the potato salad in the future. Along with Ted’s company.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AS Lilliana crossed Main Street on her way back to the retirement community, she thought over her lunch with Ted. It had been pleasant, but not at all as warm as the first one. Ted’s behavior had been strained, particularly after she told him about finding the stream. It struck her as odd, since he’d been the one to tell her about it in the first place.
All the energy triggered by the joy of anticipation at seeing Ted again drained out of her body. Her usually firm muscles felt like banana cream pudding, barely capable of pushing one foot in front of the other. What she had interpreted as a personal interest when they’d first lunched together had been wishful thinking.
Get hold of yourself, Lilliana. You were lucky enough to be part of one wonderful relationship. That should be enough for a lifetime. She shook off her malaise, straightened her posture, and focused on the day ahead.
As she strode up the driveway, her thoughts turned to her unaccomplished errand. In her excitement, she’d forgotten about her appointment with Lenny. She hoped the heat of the day had kept him off the tennis court and delayed his fishing trip with Nancy until it was cooler. She planned to visit him, borrow the plant food, and ask some probing questions. Lilliana quickened her pace.
A few minutes later, she rapped on the door of Lenny’s apartment.
He opened the door a couple of inches, a frown on his face. His puzzled look changed to a warm smile when he saw her standing there. “Lily! Come right in!” Lenny flung the door open and stepped back to allow her to pass.
Nancy wasn’t anywhere in sight, which eased Lilliana’s mind. She wanted to talk to Lenny alone.
Lilliana stepped inside and took in the interior of the apartment. It dawned on her that, until today, she’d rarely been inside any other resident’s apartment. Nor had anyone been in hers. She hadn’t noticed the lack until it was no longer true.
While not overly gregarious, Lilliana hadn’t been such a hermit for most of her life. She’d had the usual share of friends and acquaintances. But when she and Charles came to Rainbow Ranch after his stroke, she stuck close to him until he passed. She hadn’t been interested in talking to other people, hadn’t joined in activities like the African Violet Club, until recently. Although it felt traitorous to think so, perhaps a year of mourning was enough.
“What a lovely place,” she said. To the right, a small walnut dinette set stood in front of a doorway that led to the kitchen. Most of the living room was taken up by furniture. A sofa, love seat, and chair in a green tweed fabric clustered around a coffee table. Not surprisingly, there were shelves filled with African violets near the sliding glass door that led to the patio. Another plant shelf, closer to the dining area, flanked the television opposite the couch.
“It’s not much, but it’s home.” Lenny closed the door behind her. “You’re here for the fertilizer, right?”
Lilliana nodded. “If it’s not too much bother.”
“No bother at all. Let me step into the kitchen a moment and get it for you.” Lenny entered the doorway behind the dinette set, and Lilliana followed. Lenny’s kitchen was about the same size as hers, which was to say not very big at all. The stove and refrigerator were to the right, a double sink and dishwasher to the left.
The kitchens at Rainbow Ranch weren’t really meant for cooking. Management assumed you’d eat most of your meals in the dining room, so there wasn’t much storage. A few cabinets hung on one wall, and one of those fancy juicers sat on the counter. Chunks of cucumber, apple, and a partially peeled lemon lay on a cutting board beside the juicer.
Lenny opened one of the cabinet doors and pulled out a small plastic container, then bent down and took a box from the cabinet under the sink.
While Lenny poured fertilizer from the box into the container, Lilliana continued her perusal of the kitchen. She noticed an assortment of prescription bottles not quite as large as what Kirstie had taken out of Bette’s apartment. Once again, she thanked God that she was healthy enough that she didn’t have to take a lot of medications.
She didn’t mean to be nosy, but her eyes were drawn to the labels. Lipitor, atenolol, Prilosec, Celebrex. All brands she’d seen advertised in the magazines for old people at the doctor’s office. One box in particular was striking, white with a series of blue stripes along the bottom and Striant printed in large blue letters. She’d never heard of that one. Of course, they were always coming up with new drug names. Since she didn’t take any, she didn’t keep up with them.
After filling the tiny tub, Lenny returned the package of fertilizer to the cabinet and shut the door. “Here you go,” he said as he held out the plastic container to Lilliana.
“Thank you.”
Lenny picked up a paring knife and resumed peeling the lemon. “I was just about to make my afternoon juice snack. Lots of vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants in it. My own special recipe. Can I offer you a glass?”
Lilliana was about to decline, but then thought this might be her opportunity to question Lenny on what he knew about Bette’s murder. And she was curious about that fancy juicer. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
“Would you grab the carton of blueberries from the refrigerator for me?” he asked.
Opening the refrigerator in search of the berries, she saw what looked like a fat purple pen lying on
the top shelf. Was Lenny getting absent-minded? She reached for it, then read the word Genotropin printed on the side and realized the “pen” was yet another medication. Medicine in the refrigerator, medicine in the kitchen cabinet. She wondered if there were more drugs in the medicine chest in the bathroom.
She found the blueberries and handed them to Lenny.
“Why don’t you have a seat while I make the juice.” He tossed the cucumber chunks in the hopper and turned the machine on.
Much as she would have liked to observe the process, the loud noise of the machine drove her back to the dining area. Lilliana sat at the small table to wait. The clatter started and stopped several times. After one last whoosh, Lenny appeared in the doorway with two glasses. He placed one in front of Lilliana before sitting down with the other one. The liquid inside filled the glass with a beautiful deep red color.
“Did you give your statement to Chief Cartwright yet?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Lenny said. “I don’t know what I can tell him that he doesn’t already know.”
“That’s not the point. He needs what we know in writing for his reports. He was disappointed I didn’t have anything new for him in mine, but there’s nothing I can do about that.” She tapped her finger on her glass. “Are you sure you didn’t see or hear anything that might be a clue as to who killed Bette?”
Lenny shook his head.
She took a small sip of the juice. She rolled it over her tongue, enjoying the sweetness. She was glad Lenny hadn’t made her a drink with kale. She couldn’t understand how a bitter leafy vegetable had become all the rage.
“How is the juice?” Lenny asked. “I only use organic fruits and vegetables to make my juices.”
“Quite good,” Lilliana said, “but isn’t it terribly expensive?”
Lenny took a sip from his own glass and savored it in his mouth before swallowing. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. His breath came out in a hum of pleasure. After opening his eyes, he smiled at Lilliana and said, “There are some things you just have to indulge yourself with. Mine is organic food.” He got a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I seem to remember someone who buys quite a bit of chocolate at the gourmet grocery. And I’m not talking Hershey’s.”
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