“I’m surprised that Toby’s name is recognized by so many people. I thought he only traveled down Hawthorn.”
“It isn’t. He did.”
My mind scrambled to piece that together. By the time I had it figured out, Sid was saying, “—is being memorialized because he was mentally challenged. The media is feeding the frenzy, playing up Toby’s death for all its worth. I haven’t seen the news reports, but a couple of my deputies say there have been interviews with mental-illness experts, family services, and any other government agency that has an ax to grind.”
“Why are they involved?”
“Because Toby didn’t depend on the government for assistance. He didn’t have a social worker. He didn’t fall through any cracks in the system. His death wasn’t the result of a bureaucratic slipup. In short—no one screwed up. In most cases a man of Toby’s—uh—type would have received some kind of government aid. Since he didn’t collect a monthly check, his death is being blamed on society as a whole, with all the social services adding their spin on the circumstances.”
“The only person to blame is the one who put the hornet’s nest in Toby’s room.”
“Yeah, well, that brings me back to my questions. What have you heard or observed?” He stopped and reluctantly added, “What conclusions have you drawn?”
In the past Sid had repeated time and time again that if I didn’t know something to be a fact that could be substantiated, then I was to keep it to myself. My success had changed his tune, but his tone made it clear he didn’t like requesting this song.
I sank onto a stool and massaged my forehead. “Observations? Drawn conclusions? You don’t ask for much, do you?”
“If I don’t ask, I get nothing. Let’s hear it. Begin where you want, but don’t go off on a tangent. My time is limited. I’m meeting a bug specialist at Toby’s house in about an hour.”
“What do you hope an entomologist will tell you?”
“I don’t know anything about hornets except that when riled, in close quarters, they can be lethal. Go on, Bretta, start talking.”
I took a few minutes to get events set in my mind. I had several things I could tell Sid, but I needed to do them in chronological order so he could see how each piece fit in with the next.
I began with Toby’s visit yesterday. I related the conversation as best I could, but I put emphasis on the bakery employee’s belittling comment to Toby. I told Sid about Toby’s invitation to me, concerning the flowers that were being stolen from his garden. I continued with the names of the people in the waiting room at the hospital, the conversation that took place there, and how Harmon Purvis seemed well informed on the subject of hornets. Sid listened without comment until I came to the part about the sigh I’d heard when Avery told us Toby had passed away.
Sid grunted. “A sigh. Big deal. What’s with a sigh? I do it all the time. I’m doing it now.” He huffed out a breath of air. “See? What’s that prove? It’s hot air. I need something tangible. I’ll talk to the bakery employee, but it sounds like nothing.”
“I want to see Toby’s garden.”
Silence. Finally Sid said, “Why? Because Toby said the flowers were being stolen?”
“Yes. Do you know what kind they were?”
“Does it matter?”
“It might make a difference, and then again, it might not.” Sid chuckled. “Playing it safe, huh? Okay. Come by the house. I’ll be there for the next hour or so.” He didn’t say thanks. He didn’t say good-bye. He simply hung up.
I returned my receiver to the cradle and it immediately rang again. This time I didn’t wait to see what Lois would do. I picked it up, saying, “The Flower Shop.”
On the other end of the line, a soft, feminine voice said, “Avery Wheeler calling Bretta Solomon.”
“This is Bretta.”
“Just a minute, please.”
I heard a click, and Avery’s modulated tone filled my ear. “Bretta? I wasn’t sure if my secretary would find you at the flower shop. It’s getting on toward noon and I know you close early on Saturday.”
“That’s right. How are you doing?”
“Okay. I’m getting Toby’s affairs in order, which is why I called. I’ll need a nice spray of flowers for the top of his casket, and a bouquet from me personally. Send both bills to my office.”
I pulled an order form in front of me. “I have standard questions I ask when I take an order for flowers for the casket.”
“Proceed with your questions.”
“Will the casket be open or closed?”
“As you know, the body is at Delaney Funeral Home. Bernard has assured me that the sting marks on Toby’s face will be covered by makeup. I’m to do a viewing tomorrow afternoon. At that time, I’ll make the final decision. Knowing Bernard’s fine work, I’m going to say the casket will be open.”
“What color will it be?”
Avery cleared his throat. “Mahogany, with a copper bead around the beveled edge of the lid.”
I hesitated before I made that notation. A mahogany casket seemed rather extravagant, but I didn’t comment. “And Toby will be wearing what color suit?”
“No suit. He didn’t own one, didn’t feel comfortable in a tie, either. I’ve had my secretary buy a pair of navy dress slacks and a blue shirt.”
“Toby loved all flowers. Do you think I should use red roses or red carnations?”
“He thought highly of you, Bretta. Whatever you choose would please him and will please me as well.”
My eyes burned with unshed tears. “Thank you, Avery. That means a lot to me. Toby was very special.”
Avery cleared his throat. “Since I have you on the phone, I’m going to take this opportunity to request that you attend the reading of Toby’s will. I’ll also be contacting Lois Duncan and Lew Moffitt as well.”
I turned so I could see Lois as I repeated, “You want Lois, Lew, and me to be at the reading of Toby’s will?” Lois’s eyes widened with surprise.
“That’s correct,” said Avery. “I’ve scheduled the meeting for seven-thirty Tuesday evening. That should make it easier for all the beneficiaries to attend.”
“Beneficiaries?” I repeated. Now I couldn’t contain my questions. “How many are you talking about? You did say a mahogany casket? Isn’t that top of the line? What kind of legacy did Toby leave?”
Avery’s voice was cautious. “I’m not giving out any more information, Bretta.” He murmured a soft good-bye, and hung up.
Chapter Six
While Lois and I closed the flower shop, we hashed over the few tacts Avery had divulged. It didn’t surprise me that Toby had a will. Since Toby had a heart condition, I would have expected Avery to advise Agnes to make some sort of provision in the case of his unexpected death. It didn’t even surprise me that I was a beneficiary. He had no family. Just friends like me, and Lois, and Lew. It was a pretty good assumption that all of Toby’s Hawthorn clients would be in Avery’s office on Tuesday evening.
Would his killer be there, too?
I didn’t voice that question to Lois. She was excited that Toby had thought enough of her to include her in his will. I didn’t bother trying to explain that Toby probably had nothing to do with the bequests. Those issues were surely settled before Agnes passed away.
Lois and I said our good-byes. Since I was parked out front, I locked that door, leaving Lois to take care of the back. Traffic was light for a Saturday. The day was gorgeous. Bright sunshine, a gentle breeze, and the sky so blue it hurt my eyes.
I’d always felt blessed that my flower shop was located on Hawthorn, a direct route to the Spencer County Courthouse and other municipal offices. Business at my store was often brisk and had netted me a good living over the past years. Other parts of River City hadn’t been as fortunate. In the last decade, since the interstate had looped our metropolis, little mom-and-pop operations had vanished. Because most major growth tends to sprawl near the congestion of heavy traffic, the outer-loop highway had bec
ome the place to open a new venture. Westgate Mall featured forty-five shops, advertising “all your needs under one roof.”
While I welcomed sightseers into my shop, I knew without a doubt that my economic success depended on River City’s thirty thousand residents, along with the people living in the outlying areas of our county. I had to please them, not the owners of the vehicles, racing down the interstate, looking for a fast potty break or a place to buy a quick snack. To the people in and around River City, the shops on Hawthorn offered more than service. We were familiar with their wants and needs, and we tried very hard to please.
Traffic thinned even more as I arrived at the end of Hawthorn. Highway 12 was well paved, with shoulders wide enough that Toby could pedal his bike safely. I hadn’t traveled far when I saw the city limits sign. I applied my brakes. Just as Sid had said, three hundred feet later I made the turn into Toby’s driveway.
I parked behind Sid’s patrol car, leaving another car room to back out onto the main road. I took my time getting out of my SUV. Sid and a man, who I took to be the entomologist, were conversing in the front yard. The man said something to Sid. Sid nodded and the man went to his car and got in. I waited until he’d backed out before joining Sid.
The sheriff of Spencer County was a few inches taller than my height of five feet seven. He had a round face, light red hair, and a multitude of freckles on his pale skin. He rarely smiled. This moment was no exception. My arrival hadn’t put the bright light of welcome in his sober eyes. “Was that the entomologist?” I said.
“Yes. He spouted information until my head feels like it’s full of cotton batting, and I’ve got a pain in my gut.” He rubbed his stomach and winced.
“Did you hear anything that might help your investigation?”
Reluctantly, Sid pulled out a notebook. “The word wasp is derived from the Anglo-Saxon words waefs, waeps, waesp, which when loosely translated means to weave, which refers to the way they build their nests. Hornets have a scientific classification as being members of the Vespidae family. These vespoid wasps are also called yellow jackets as well as hornets.”
He looked at me, then back at his notes. “According to the bug guy, hornets’ nests aren’t prevalent. They’re social insects because they live in colonies that number upward into the thousands. Easily provoked, these insects will attack and drive their stinger into flesh while injecting venom into the wound. Hornets make large paper nests by masticating wood and plant fiber. With dedication, they apply layer upon layer until they have a hive that might measure about half the size of a bushel basket.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Those are fantastic notes. You must have copied everything he said word for word.”
Sid flipped his notebook shut and tucked it in his shirt pocket. “When he started talking, I wasn’t sure what was important and what wasn’t. So I used my own cryptic brand of shorthand to get it all down. Now I see it as a waste of paper.”
“I heard you say that hornets’ nests aren’t prevalent. I take that to mean they aren’t hanging from every tree branch. Whoever decided to use the nest had to know where it was and have access to it.”
“The bug specialist says he’s located ten nests in the county. He figures there could be more, but he’s been alerted about these because people don’t like them on their property. He keeps tabs on the nests, knows when the hornets are about to swarm. He’s going to check to see if any are missing. If we can pinpoint where the nest came from, we might get a handle on who grabbed it.”
I was skeptical. “That sounds like a very long shot.”
Sid glared at me. “You got any better ideas?”
“No. I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying. I’m not putting much stock in it either, but the bug guy volunteered. And just to let you know, I went by Merry’s Delights and questioned that employee who made the comment to Toby. That was a long shot, too.”
“But why did she say what she did to—”
“Forget it. I talked to her and crossed her off my list.” Changing subjects, he asked, “Have you been in Toby’s house?”
Sid might have crossed the employee off his list, but I hadn’t. However, he didn’t need to know that. “I’ve never had any contact with Toby outside of the flower shop.”
“I didn’t figure you had or you’d have said something. We’ll see the garden, but first we’re going inside.”
I frowned. “Is that necessary?”
Sid rubbed his stomach as he stared off into space. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s necessary. I want your take on what’s inside.”
“My take?”
Impatiently, Sid said, “Your impression, Bretta. I want to know what you think.”
I turned toward the house. It was white, square, and unpretentious. At a guess I’d say there were two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. There was a cement front stoop covered by an A-shaped overhang. Blinds hung smooth and straight behind the windows.
I glanced at Sid. “What kind of impression do you expect me to have?”
Sid didn’t answer. He strode off, leaving me to follow, which I did. I was more than curious, and not just about the interior of Toby’s home. I wanted to know why Sid was so intent on my going inside.
Sid led the way down a sidewalk that ran alongside the house. We turned the corner and stepped on the porch. I glanced at the backyard but my view was blocked by a row of thick hedges. For the time being, I put the garden out of my mind and moved to the door that had been propped open. The blades of a box fan whirled, blowing the smell of chemicals past me. I wrinkled my nose at the odor.
Sid explained, “You’re smelling the vapor the exterminator used to kill the hornets. If you think it’s bad now, you should have been here last night. The house reeked of it, but I’ve been assured that the lingering odor isn’t toxic.”
He stood aside and motioned for me to go in. “The house has been processed, with most of the attention centered on Toby’s bedroom. As I told you, the window was jimmied open, but we didn’t find any prints except Toby’s.”
I nodded and stepped into the kitchen, wincing as my feet crunched on the dead hornets. They lay in droves on the floor, speckling the white linoleum like giant commas punctuating a blank page. Conscious of the insects under my feet, it was hard to take in everything at once.
The walls were painted yellow, with green-checked curtains at the windows. The cabinets followed three walls, interspersed with a stove, a refrigerator, and double sinks under the window that faced the drive. That windowsill was wider than most and held an aluminum pan filled with soil. Seedlings had sprouted, but lack of care had sent them to an early grave. The counters were clean, only an electric can opener, a coffeemaker, and a toaster in sight. A table with two chairs was by the back door. The room was tidy except for the dead hornets on the floor.
I glanced at Sid, but he gave no indication of what he expected from me. I walked farther into the room. On my left was an open door. I looked in and saw what must have been Agnes’s bedroom. The walls were painted a pale pink, with fussy curtains at the windows and a floral spread on the bed. A collection of mementos was displayed across the top of a chest of drawers and night tables.
I turned my attention back to the kitchen. On the wall next to me was a bulletin board. Tacked to its surface were three large charts. The first one was labeled: “Menu # 1.” What followed were thirty squares that contained thirty days of planned meals. I read the first day:
Breakfast: Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice
Lunch: Tuna sandwich, lettuce and tomato, and a glass of milk
Supper: Taco salad and a glass of milk
Snacks: An apple, a banana, and grapes
I looked at the second and third charts and saw that the meals were well-balanced and nutritiously complete.
Sid said, “I spoke with Abner Garrett at the grocery store. He says that before Agnes died, she made up the menus, compiled the grocery list, and gave it
to him. Each month he delivers the necessary items that will coincide with Toby’s planned menu, and sends the bill to Avery Wheeler.”
Sid opened a cabinet door. Inside were a few cans of vegetables, soups, and fruits. “We found an empty peach can filled with dollar bills. It looked like quite a wad, but there was only forty dollars. According to Avery Wheeler, Agnes didn’t want Toby to have an allowance. Any pocket money Toby had was to be earned from the jobs she’d gotten for him before she died. All bills were paid by Avery.” He lowered his chin and stared at me. “Keep that bit of info in mind as we proceed through the house.”
I nodded and walked across the room to the refrigerator. I didn’t open the door. I was interested in the instructions pasted on the surface. Each note had been cut from what originally had been brightly colored construction paper. Time had faded the green, red, and yellow squares, but the writing was bold and clear.
Winners never cheat, and cheaters never win.
Always wear clean underwear.
Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.
Waste not, want not.
Always be polite.
As Lew would say, “Words to live by.”
Frowning in concentration, I moved on to the front of the house. The living room contained a sofa and two hard-looking chairs that were covered with clear plastic to protect the upholstery. None of it looked as if it had ever been sat on. Lacy doilies covered tabletops. Everything was spotless. There were no newspapers, but six stacks of gardening magazines sat on the coffee table. All were still in their mailing covers. There wasn’t any radio or television, but an old phonograph sat in the corner. Next to it was a stand that held record albums. I glanced at the names of some of the artists—Lawrence Welk, Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, and Ray Conniff.
I said, “The whole house looks as if time has stood still since Agnes died. Six piles of gardening magazines for the six years she’s been gone. She must have liked music, but I don’t see a radio. And these albums are outdated.” I pulled out a couple. “They’re instrumental. No lyrics.” I looked around the cold, stark room. “No newspaper. No radio. Music but no lyrics. Nothing to evoke any kind of emotion, whether it be anger at a story or lyrics from a love song.” I sighed. “Toby must have missed his mother very much. She was gone, and yet she influenced his life right down to the food he ate each day.”
Bindweed Page 6
