African Violet Club Mystery Collection

by Elise M Stone

  “Oh, just a classified. Do you happen to have a pen?”

  Sam reached under the counter again and rattled around in some container or other before coming up with a pen. “Minimum charge is ten dollars. That covers up to twenty-five words. Five dollars for every twenty-five words after that.”

  She paused with the pen raised in her hand and counted in her head. She believed she could squeeze all the information about the meeting into twenty-five words if she used them carefully. Once she had her thoughts organized, she printed out the message on the form, filled in her name, address, and telephone number at the bottom, and pushed the form over to Sam.

  “Trying to drum up some new customers, I see.” Sam counted the words she’d written. “That will be ten dollars.”

  Lilliana pulled her wallet out of her pocket and took a twenty dollar bill from it.

  As Sam counted out the change, he casually asked, “Any news on the murder?”

  “None that I know of. But I haven’t spoken to Nancy or the chief this morning. I was hoping you might have news for me.”

  “Cartwright isn’t talking. I hung around last night after I dropped Mrs. Gardner off, same as Buckley, but the chief just issued a formal statement of what we already knew. You’ll tell me if you hear anything?”

  “Of course,” Lilliana said, but reserved exactly how much she’d tell the newspaperman depending on what she found out. There was no use having too much information in the weekly paper.

  “Anything else going on at the retirement home?” Sam asked hopefully. “Are you having any more softball games?”

  It sounded as if Sam was having problems filling column inches. She thought the murder would take up plenty of room, but then she remembered that her game often filled most of the sports page. “No, unfortunately. I think I’m going to have to give up on the idea of having a softball team. I was hoping Fox would help form one in town, but that’s not possible now.”

  “It’s Fox, is it?” Sam looked more interested than Lilliana would have liked.

  “Uh, it was.” She decided there was no point in holding back. “A couple of days ago, I called her and asked if she’d be interested in getting together to hit a ball around. She seemed like one of the few people who not only had time to do it, but was physically fit enough to enjoy it. So we did. We went to the schoolyard and took turns batting.”

  “Too bad. I kind of enjoyed doing coverage of the games. Anything else happening?”

  “Nothing much.” Before she could stop herself, she added, “Unless you want to count Christopher MacAlistair.” She laughed. “He’s caused quite a stir among the female population.” Realizing what she’d said, Lilliana felt a flush rise in her face.

  “I would imagine.” Sam appraised her, and she wondered if he noticed the blush. “You two seemed pretty friendly last night. Do you know how he came to Rainbow Ranch?”

  Lilliana was puzzled. Christopher had been vague on that topic, but Sam seemed to be implying there was something that he knew and she didn’t. Not sure she wanted to hear the answer, she asked, “How?”

  “He drove into town with our dear, departed rodeo queen. Miss Fordyce told me he was living at her house up until about a month ago.” Sam paused as if wondering whether to keep talking or not.

  Lilliana’s heart had risen to her throat. The key in the valet tray must have been Christopher’s. She didn’t dare say much more, but managed to squeak out, “Oh?”

  “I think they had some kind of falling out,” Sam said.

  Lilliana swallowed. “Any idea over what?”

  “I didn’t get the whole story. She didn’t want to talk about it, and I was more interested in her than him. Jaclyn Pulaski might know.”

  “Jaclyn?” For the second time today, Lilliana wondered if she should stop in at Pulaski’s Gourmet Grocery. Did she want to?

  Better to find out sooner rather than later. If MacAlistair was some kind of Lothario, she’d be better off to steer clear of him. She was feeling better about cutting their conversation short last night. If he wasn’t a Casanova, there was always the chance he was on the rebound. You never wanted to start a relationship with someone on the rebound in Lilliana’s experience. Not that she had all that much. Experience, that is. She’d met Charles while she was studying at Simmons and hadn’t been interested in anyone else since. Well, there had been Ted, but she hadn’t known him long enough for a relationship to develop.

  “Lilliana?” Sam asked.

  She tore herself away from her inner musings. “So the ad will appear in this week’s paper?”

  “Yes. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “No. No, thank you.” She hurried out of the newspaper office.

  On the walk home, she wondered if you ever got over the ups and downs of romance. You would think that, in time, you’d learn not to be hurt so easily. But apparently not. What was it they used to say? Something about playing for bigger stakes?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE population in the dining room was sparse when Lilliana entered. Having skipped breakfast, she’d gone down as soon as they were open for lunch. Even though she was early, Nancy and Rebecca were earlier. Their plates of chicken parmesan with spaghetti were half eaten when Lilliana joined them.

  “We missed you at breakfast,” Nancy said. “Did you sleep late?”

  Lilliana decided to tell a half truth. “Why, yes. It was a late night last night. Have you heard any more from the Chief?”

  A worried look crossed Nancy’s face. “He wants me to come to the police station this afternoon and give a formal statement. What’s a formal statement?”

  “All he means is that he wants what you know in writing,” Lilliana tried to sound reassuring. “You’ll need to remember the details of what happened last night.”

  “What if I don’t remember?”

  “Make it up,” Rebecca said as she jabbed a piece of chicken.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lilliana said. “When dealing with the police, it’s better to tell the truth. They have ways of figuring out if you lie.”

  She looked around the dining room, trying to spot a server to give her order to. A young woman noticed her and hurried over. The chicken parmesan looked good, so she ordered that.

  Willie’s walking stick thumped across the floor as he made his way toward them. “May I join you ladies?”

  “Of course,” Lilliana said.

  Willie took a seat and also ordered the chicken parmesan.

  “I’d like it better if that handsome new man joined us.” Rebecca grinned wickedly.

  “I think he’s too young for you,” Nancy said pointedly.

  Fortunately, Christopher was nowhere to be seen. If he’d joined them at the table, it would be not a love triangle, but a quadrangle. Assuming she herself was still interested in him, which she wasn’t entirely certain she was. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Both Nancy and Rebecca’s heads swiveled in her direction, neither of them looking like they comprehended what she was talking about.

  “To Town Hall,” she elaborated. “To meet with Chief Cartwright.”

  Understanding followed by gratitude washed over Nancy’s face. “Oh, would you, Lilliana?”

  “Of course.”

  “I told him I’d be there at two. I’d better go change my clothes now.”

  She thought Nancy looked perfectly fine, but if changing into something more formal would make her feel better—and use up the time until two o’clock—it wouldn’t be a bad thing. “I’ll knock on your door at one-thirty,” Lilliana said.

  “Thank you for offering.” Nancy rose and hurried out of the dining room.

  The server brought the lunch plates for Lilliana and Willie, and they turned their attention to their food. Rebecca was quiet for a few minutes, then as if she needed to fill the void, spoke up. “You know, I wasn’t joking about Nancy making things up.”

  Willie stopped twirling spaghetti around his fork and looked up
from his plate. “About what?”

  Lilliana filled him in on the chief’s request and Nancy’s concern about remembering details. Then she turned back to Rebecca. “What are you talking about?”

  “I was sitting with her last night, watching the fireworks, you know. We were wondering where Mr. MacAlistair had disappeared to—we’d both seen him earlier in the day, but lost track of him—and commenting on how Fox Fordyce had been eying him when she showed up.”

  Lilliana’s head hurt. Had anyone seen her and Christopher together? What had Fox thought of Lilliana eating at the picnic table with her ex-boyfriend? If that’s what he was. What kind of relationship had they had? Why had they broken up? It was obvious Christopher had moved into the retirement community after the breakup. Had he decided on staying there with hopes of getting back together?

  “Nancy was curious as to why Fox Fordyce was so interested in MacAlistair. So, when the cowgirl headed toward the portable toilets, Nancy said she was going to follow her and see if Christopher was there.

  “She got up right away and ran after her. Left me all by myself.” Rebecca frowned.

  So Nancy hadn’t accidentally discovered Fox’s body. If she’d followed the woman, she must have seen who shot her. Was it possible Nancy really was the murderer? “Are you sure?”

  “Am I sure? I was sitting right there, wasn’t I?” Rebecca looked insulted. She rose from her chair, her face set in an angry scowl, and stormed off, muttering to herself. “I don’t have to take that kind of treatment. Call me a liar, will she?”

  Lilliana and Willie stared after her until she went through the doors of the dining room. Willie shook his head. “I’ll never understand women.”

  Lilliana wasn’t sure she would, either. Especially all the elderly ones at the retirement home. “I’m worried about Nancy.”

  “I understand.” Willie sopped up the sauce on his plate with a piece of Italian bread slathered in butter. He’d eaten everything else, which surprised Lilliana.

  When the fairies had found out he needed to lose weight, they’d started leaving him a wafer every morning that decreased his appetite. Although he’d gotten through the hip surgery, he’d told her he intended to get back in shape now that he was more mobile. He hadn’t finished a meal in weeks. Now he’d not only finished all the food on his plate, he was eying the spaghetti and sauce she hadn’t eaten.

  “Are you going to eat that?” he finally asked.

  She pushed her plate toward him. “No, you can have it. Aren’t you getting a wafer every morning any more?”

  Willie dug into the spaghetti with relish, chewed and swallowed before answering. “Oh, I am, but lately they’ve tasted like something that came out of the back end of a horse. I’ve been throwing them out.”

  Lilliana filed that away in her memory. Were the wafers really different or was Willie using the taste as an excuse? “Would you mind if I tasted one?”

  “I don’t think you want to.”

  “Nevertheless, I’d like to see for myself.”

  “Fine. I’ll bring the one I get tomorrow to breakfast.”

  “Now, don’t you get all in a huff.”

  “Sorry,” Willie said shamefacedly. “I’m disappointed in myself, is all. I thought I could lose more weight without the wafers, but I get so hungry.”

  “There might be something I can do about that.”

  “Like what?”

  Lilliana wasn’t about to tell Willie about the fairies. She had a suspicion one of the tricksy ones had decided to use magic not to help Willie lose weight, but to gain it back. Ignoring his question, she said, “I can’t imagine Nancy would shoot anyone, but Rebecca’s story sounds incriminating.”

  “I’m with you on that one. Mrs. Gardner is a sweet old lady. Her taste in sweaters is a little odd, and her idea of cooking is pretty bad, but I think she’s harmless.”

  “I’m afraid she’s going to get herself into trouble.” Lilliana tapped her fingers on the table.

  “I know that look,” Willie said. “You’re thinking of trying to solve this case, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am. Would you be willing to help me again?”

  Willie had retired from the Tucson Police Department when his hip gave out. He’d been Captain of the Major Crimes Division and, coincidentally, Chad Cartwright’s boss. His experience had been invaluable in solving the two previous murders in Rainbow Ranch. While Lilliana was fairly competent in putting clues together, Willie O’Mara had the professional expertise to interpret the evidence. And to know how to talk to the young police chief in language he’d understand.

  “I might be able to do that,” Willie said. “It was getting too quiet around here anyway.”

  Lilliana smiled. “Good.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “The door’s locked.” Nancy gripped the handle on the passenger’s side of Willie’s 2005 Lincoln Town Car as Lilliana pressed the button several times.

  “Stop pulling on the handle for a minute,” Lilliana said, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. Once more, she pressed the button to unlock the car doors. This time she heard the click of the locks disengaging. “Now try it.”

  Nancy smiled with relief as she opened the car door and got out. Lilliana waited until Nancy had closed it again, then got out herself and locked the car. When the thermometer on her patio read 110 degrees, she had decided to borrow Willie’s car rather than attempting the walk from the retirement home to Town Hall. Even if she could have made it, she was fairly sure Nancy wouldn’t have been able to.

  The July sun baked the black asphalt in the rear parking lot, so hot Lilliana could feel the heat through the soles of her shoes. “Let’s get inside before we melt.”

  She hurried across the paving to the rear entrance of the building and climbed the steps to the door. Nancy followed. She’d never come in this door and was afraid it might be locked, but fortunately it yielded to her touch and opened.

  The hallway, even though lit by overhead fluorescents, seemed dim after the bright sunshine outside. Lilliana led the way to the lobby.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Wentworth,” DeeDee said from the reception desk, then spotted Nancy as she caught up. “Good morning, Mrs. Gardner. What can I do for you?”

  “We’re here to see the chief,” Lilliana told her.

  “Let me tell him you’re here,” DeeDee said. She picked up the phone and relayed the information.

  A few moments later, Chief Cartwright opened the door to his office and waved them in.

  “Thanks for coming down this afternoon,” he said. “Hot enough for you?”

  “Awful,” Nancy said. Her face was the color of a stoplight under her platinum blonde hair, and drops of perspiration covered her skin.

  Lilliana noticed Nancy was wearing one of her colorful sweaters. “You might want to take your sweater off.”

  “Let me get you some water,” the chief said. He picked up the phone, and a few moments later DeeDee opened the door and brought in three bottles of water so cold the plastic was beaded in condensation.

  “Thank you,” Lilliana said as she took one and opened it.

  By this time, Nancy had removed her sweater and laid it in her lap. After a few sips of water, her face had become less flushed.

  “Feeling better now?” Cartwright asked her.

  Nancy nodded.

  “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened on the Fourth of July?”

  “But I already told you everything.”

  “I just want to make sure I’ve got all of it clear in my mind.”

  Lilliana thought it more likely the chief wanted the story clear in Nancy’s mind. She herself would be interested in the retelling in light of what Rebecca had said.

  He put a tape recorder on his desk. “Do you mind if I record your statement? That will make it easier for DeeDee to type it up.”

  “I suppose that would be all right.” She looked at Lilliana for reassurance. Lilliana gave a slight nod of her head
.

  Nancy repeated the story of going to use the toilet after the fireworks show and then finding Fox Fordyce after she’d been shot. “I’m not sure why I picked up the gun.” Nancy’s face crumpled.

  “Are you sure you didn’t see Fox Fordyce earlier?” Lilliana asked.

  The chief quickly shifted his eyes to hers. Lilliana avoided his gaze.

  Nancy looked confused. “Well, of course I saw her earlier. We were all at the school, listening to the band and eating hot dogs and...”

  Lilliana gentled her voice. “I mean right before you got up to use the portable toilet. Are you sure you didn’t see her go in that direction first?”

  “I don’t think so.” Nancy closed her eyes, as if trying to envision the scene that night. When she opened them, she said, “No, I’m sure of it. I left my seat before the last burst of fireworks had finished. Everyone else was still watching them.”

  “Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Chief Cartwright asked.

  Again Nancy looked in Lilliana’s direction, as if she would know the answer. Of course, she didn’t, so Nancy returned her gaze to the chief. “No.”

  Chief Cartwright flipped off the tape recorder. “I’m going to have DeeDee type this up right away so you can sign it. You can wait in the lobby until she’s done.”

  Nancy got up, and Lilliana started to rise with her.

  “Not you, Mrs. Wentworth. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  She sank back into her seat while Cartwright brought Nancy and the tape to the lobby. He closed the door on his return.

  “Would you like to tell me why you asked Mrs. Gardner if she’d seen Ms. Fordyce go to the toilets?”

  If she answered the chief’s question directly, the answer was no. But she didn’t think he was actually asking her what her preference was. She supposed there was no way around it; she’d have to tell him. “One of the other residents at the retirement home, Rebecca Cushing, told me she was sitting with Nancy during the fireworks show. She specifically said the two of them saw Fox head toward the back of the school yard. She also said Nancy announced her intention to follow her.”