I cleared my throat. “The … uh … stargazer lilies are the most fragrant, but they’re also the most expensive. I can’t give them away.”
“Money,” said Bailey softly. “It always comes back to money, doesn’t it?”
This man could rile me faster than a telemarketer, but being near him made my heart thump in an abnormal fashion. “I wasn’t talking about being compensated. The flowers aren’t mine to give away or to sell. They were donated to the association for our contest.”
Bailey pulled a fifty-dollar bill from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. “I don’t know of any organization that can’t use extra cash. I’d like five pink carnations, a stem of lilies, and some of that stuff over there.” He pointed to the glossy foliage that had arrived from California last night. “I like the shiny leaves.”
His random choices went against my creative nature. “That foliage is too heavy to use with the flowers you’ve chosen. How about some baby’s breath, or maybe some fern to give your bouquet an airy look?”
Bailey snorted. “I’m going to stuff the flowers into a water pitcher and set it on a table with literature about attracting butterflies to gardens. Do you think anyone will care if the greens are heavy or if the bouquet is airy?”
“They should,” I said as I stepped past him into the cooler. I broke off a woody stem of greenery, then came out of the cooler, shutting the door a bit harder than necessary. I chose the carnations and the lily, then looked around for something to wrap them in.
Bailey took the flowers out of my hands. “Thanks,” he murmured and buried his nose in the open lily blossom. “These are strong smelling,” he said, looking at me over the tops of the blooms.
I smothered a giggle. The rusty-brown pollen from the anther had left its imprint across the tip of his nose. I touched one of the anthers, and then showed him the dust on my finger. “You look like a brown-noser,” I said softly. “A good cop would never want to be accused of that.”
Bailey laid the flowers on a table. In a measured tone, he said, “I told you I was a deejay.”
“That’s right, you did say that. My radar must be on the fritz.”
Bailey took a step closer. “You need something else to think about,” he said, cupping my head in his hands. He leaned forward and rubbed his nose sensuously across mine.
Our breath mingled. Our eyes locked. Nerve endings exploded all over my body, and then his lips touched mine. His kiss was as soft and light as the brush of a rose petal. He stepped back, picked up his flowers, and walked out.
When I could breathe again, I murmured, “Oh, Carl, I’m sorry.”
“Why, Babe, because you enjoyed a little kiss?”
“But I don’t even know the man.”
Carl’s derisive laughter rang in my ears. “What’s to know? Bailey Monroe intrigues you.”
“More like irritates and aggravates. Effie was right. Bailey’s a cop. I could kick myself for not seeing it sooner. My gosh, I lived with you for twenty-four years, I ought to be able to spot one.”
Staring off into space, I mused aloud, “I wonder if anything Bailey told me is the truth. When we spoke on the elevator, he said he was an avid gardener. Wouldn’t an experienced gardener know about the pollen on the lily? Wouldn’t he know which flowers were the most fragrant? Why didn’t he go to the roses or the carnations or the lilies without asking me?”
“He wanted honeysuckle, Babe.”
I grimaced. “That’s a moot point. Everyone knows honeysuckle has an aroma. When I didn’t have what he wanted, wouldn’t an avid gardener and a butterfly enthusiast know which flowers to pick?
“Effie told him I’d lost pounds and pounds. So why did he make that crack about fat women to me? Gellie was right to worry about packing on the pounds. My emotions are a direct line to my overeating. I think I’m strong, but, Carl, there are so many pressures.
“And speaking of pressures, what about the McDuffys? Is Robbee involved in their deaths? Did Stephanie witness something at the hybrid lily exhibition that haunted her? Lavelle said she had been filled with hopes and dreams when she came home. Was Robbee the main focus of those hopes and dreams?”
I sighed a gusty breath. “It looks like I have plenty of suspects, if I take into account that half our contestants and board of directors was at that June exhibit. Darren, Gellie, Miriam, Zach, Tyrone, and Bernice were all on that tour. How does this floral conference factor into what’s going on?”
I waited expectantly for one of Carl’s intelligent commentaries, but he was silent. Grumpily, I reached for the switch to the lights just as the phone rang. I picked up the receiver and said, “Basement. This is Bretta.”
“I have information on the McDuffys.”
The voice was raspy. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. “Who is this?”
“You want what I have or not?”
“How do you know the McDuffys?”
“I’m hanging up.”
“All right, all right. What kind of information do you have?”
“I’m not going into it over the phone.”
“And I’m not meeting you in some dark, deserted alley. You can keep your info—”
“Just shut up and listen. I’ve made some notes, and I’ll leave the paper in the tropical plant that’s by the entrance into the souvenir shop. Better not tarry too long.”
“How do you—” I stopped when I heard the click in my ear. Tarry too long? Was that a threat that the info would be taken away if I didn’t get there immediately?
I switched the lights off, grabbed my purse, and headed for the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, I arrived at the door to the lobby. As I reached for the handle, I saw something that didn’t look right. I leaned closer and spied a razor blade positioned where I’d been ready to grab. What had gotten my attention was the tail end of a piece of duct tape used to fasten the blade in place. The gray of the tape was a different color than the metal gray of the handle.
I was spooked. It showed in the tiny beads of sweat that gathered on my upper lip, and the way my legs weakened to the point where I had to lean against the wall for support. Now there wasn’t any doubt that I was on someone’s list. The phone call had been a red herring to get me up to the lobby quickly. I had done as predicted and leaped at the chance to know more about the McDuffys.
The use of the blade was maniacal, sadistic, and downright scary. When I felt that I could trust my legs to support me, I moved back to the door and carefully peeled the tape away. I wrapped the sticky stuff around the edge of the blade before putting the wad in my purse.
I reached for the handle, then hesitated. Someone was waiting in the lobby for me to come charging through the door with blood dripping from my fingers. I could pretend the blade had done its damage, and create a scene, but I didn’t see how that would make me any wiser as to the identity of the culprit. Or I could go quietly up to the next floor and check out who was in the lobby and see if anyone showed any unusual interest in the stairwell door.
I decided on the second option, though the idea of creating a foot-stomping, hell-raising ruckus was tempting. I navigated the stairs to the floor above, eyed the handle to see if it was safe to touch, and then eased the door open wide enough so I could squeeze through. Once on the balcony, I crept to the railing and peeked over the side.
People were circulating, chatting, and enjoying a good time. My gaze drifted up and down the room, looking for anyone acting suspicious. After five minutes, I decided my surveillance was a bust. I hadn’t spied any furtive maneuvers.
I took the elevator down to the lobby and brazenly crossed to the six-foot, multiple-stemmed rubber tree plant that was outside the souvenir shop entrance. Pushing the heavy branches this way and that, I searched among the broad leaves for the piece of paper I was sure didn’t exist.
Empty-handed, I moved on to the conference room. Just my rotten luck, Bernice was the first person I met. Her expression mirrored my own grouchy mood. To put her in better sp
irits, I pulled Bailey’s fifty-dollar bill from my pocket and handed it to her.
“Here,” I said. “I had a chance to sell a few flowers for the butterfly convention.” I watched her greedily palm the money. Bailey had told the truth about one thing—it always came back to money. It made people snap up and take notice. Robbee needed it to save a failing business. Bernice used it to get on the good side of Tyrone, to make him take notice of her. And Tyrone wanted this conference to show a marked increase in the association’s budget.
“—enter it under donations,” she was saying. “It’ll help defray the cost of that trophy. Do you have any other outstanding bills?”
Wearily, I said, “No, Bernice. That’s it.”
“What about the box from California? Did you find a packing slip?”
“Nope. Nothing. It’s just another donation.”
She nodded approvingly. “Good. Good.”
Keeping my voice casual, I asked, “By the way, do you know if any of the contestants or members of the board arrived earlier than Wednesday?”
“Tyrone was here Tuesday.”
“He was. I wonder why?”
“Because he’s concerned that this conference has a good showing. He’s done a lot of work that will never give him the recognition he deserves. I think Miriam arrived on Tuesday, too. I heard her tell Allison that she needed time to herself. A day to get into a creative mode.” Bernice snorted. “More like a destructive mode, if you ask me. That woman is out to cause trouble.”
“You mean with the contest?”
“That among other things.”
Before I could press Bernice to be more specific, she said, “I’ve been thinking that we should raffle off the designs after the contest. Why let the flowers go to waste? We can deposit the proceeds in the association’s account.”
“Money. Money. Money,” I muttered under my breath. Louder, I said, “I’ve already told Alvin the hotel can have the arrangements to decorate the lobby.”
Bernice’s face flushed with anger. “You had no right to do that, Bretta. Those flowers belong to the association, and it should profit from them, not this hotel. We’ve paid handsomely for the use of these conference rooms. I’m taking this up with Tyrone,” she said, glancing up at his room.
I followed her gaze to the second tier of rooms where Miriam and Tyrone were having a heated discussion outside his suite. Miriam’s jaws were flapping. Tyrone put a hand up to stop her verbal onslaught, and she smacked him sharply across the face.
“That was slick,” I said, watching Tyrone go back into his suite and the door slam shut. “Is that the kind of trouble you were talking about?”
Bernice ignored me to paddle off like a steamboat bound for rough waters.
At my elbow, Effie said, “While we were gone this morning, dear, the contest almost went to Hades in a handbasket. Judging from that scene, I’d say it’s still on a downward spiral.”
I glanced at Effie, and then back to Tyrone’s closed door. “You know what that was about?” Effie nodded. We watched Bernice get off the elevator and plod along the balcony to Tyrone’s suite. “Stupid woman,” I said, shaking my head. “She doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose. In the mood Tyrone is in, he just might toss her broad butt over the railing. Let’s go into the conference room. We can talk there.”
I led the way into the cool, dark room. Effie found the light switch and everything sprang into focus. The sight of the funeral bier made me heartsick. “I’m going to have the casket removed, Effie,” I said, making a spur-of-the-moment decision.
“Because of the McDuffys, dear?”
“Yeah. I thought it would be a bit of dark humor to have Chloe lay there, then sit up to welcome the florists. Now it’s too close to reality, and too painful to look at.”
“You might be right. But what will you put in its place?”
“The bouquets are pretty and original. I’ll set the trophy among them and let that be it. I’ve hid my contest notes in the bottom of the casket. If you’ll help me, I’ll retrieve them, and then I’ll have someone from the funeral home—”
“What is it, dear?”
“I was thinking that my odds are very good that Alvin borrowed this casket from the Eternal Rest Chapel. Perhaps I can have a chat with whoever comes to pick it up.”
“When will you find the time? Don’t forget the conservatory tour is in an hour. We have the Mel Tillis show tonight.” Her tone held a light rebuke. “Other people are depending on you, dear. Florists have been trickling in all morning. I know the McDuffys’ deaths are a personal concern, but don’t slight our conference and contest.”
“I’m trying, but what did you mean that the contest was going to hell in a handbasket?”
“Hades, dear. I don’t use that other word. I wanted to talk about what happened at last night’s dinner on our trip this morning, but you had plenty on your mind.”
“What happened?”
“After you left the dining room, Miriam tried to draw Darren into a conversation about some recent flower designs he’d done for a wedding and the grand opening of a new theater here in Branson. She pressed him relentlessly about his work. Then as we were leaving the dining room, I heard her tell Tyrone that the poop was about to splatter.” Color tinged Effie’s cheeks. “I’ve cleaned that statement up, too, dear.”
“I’m still not getting it, Effie. What does that have to do with the contest?”
“When we returned from our morning jaunt, I planned to rest, but I found a message on my door. Tyrone had summoned his board of directors for a meeting. Allison, Bernice, and I gathered in his room, where he announced that Delia has hurt her hand and is gone. Tyrone told us that since Miriam was so enthralled with what Darren had accomplished with his designs, then others would be, too. He’s thinking of canceling the contest and having Darren put on a one-man show.”
My chin came up. “He can’t do that.”
“I’m afraid he can, though it won’t make him the most popular man in this hotel. The scene we witnessed between him and Miriam is only the beginning.”
“I have half a notion to go see him myself, but nothing would be accomplished.”
“There’s more, dear.”
My mouth dropped open. I quickly recovered and sighed. “Lay it on me. I might as well hear it all.”
“Forewarned is forearmed, though in this instance, I’m not sure what you can do. It’s your friend, Angelica.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Allison told me Angelica has locked herself in her room. I knew you were busy in the basement, so I tried talking to her, but she wouldn’t open the door. She was sobbing so hard I could barely understand what she was saying. But it sounds as if she’s fallen in love, and the man doesn’t feel the same.”
“Did she say that?”
“No, dear, I’m drawing conclusions. She kept muttering that ‘life isn’t fair’ and something about ‘grazing the field’ and having to ‘get control of my life.’” Effie clicked her tongue. “Before I left, she said ‘the best place for me is home.’ That’s what I meant about going to Hades in a handbasket. What if Angelica drops out of the contest, too?”
Chapter Twelve
I didn’t try to answer Effie’s question, and as it turned out I didn’t need to. In the lobby, a flood of conference attendees had arrived, but none of them was more charismatic than Gellie. Dressed in a navy-blue suit, she looked classy with a red carnation pinned to the lapel of her jacket.
I tried to gauge the expression in her eyes to see if she was putting on a front, but she appeared to be genuinely happy. Whatever had bothered her earlier had resolved itself or she’d put it behind her. She whirled and preened, showing off her new figure to a group of admirers, soaking up compliments like floral foam absorbs water.
Robbee and Chloe shared a table in the lounge. Effie had joined Bernice near the reservation desk, and both were visiting with the new arrivals. Tyrone’s welcoming committee was complete when Alli
son joined the rest of the board. The vice president looked around the room, searching the numbers to make sure we were in attendance, as Tyrone had requested. She frowned until she spotted me. Nodding sharply, she turned to greet another newcomer.
My gaze circled the room again and would have slid on by Robbee’s table, but Chloe gestured to me. I forced a polite smile to my lips and walked over. “Quite a crowd,” I remarked.
“It’s just fabulous,” she said. “I still can’t believe that I’m going to be standing before this group of florists doing original designs. I hope my brain doesn’t freeze.”
Being the dutiful mother figure, I said what was expected. “You’ll do fine.”
Chloe cast Robbee a quick glance. “Is it true that Delia has dropped out of the contest? I heard the news a few minutes ago and told Robbee. He said you hadn’t mentioned it. I told him you might not know.”
“I know.”
Robbee swung his head up to stare at me. For a moment, his handsome features twisted into a dark scowl. That look vanished, and he flashed an irresistible smile. “If you need a replacement, I’m always available.”
“We’ll have to see.” I moved away from their table in hopes of having a brief word with Gellie. I wanted to make sure she was all right, but I also wanted to discuss Stephanie McDuffy. I caught Gellie’s eye and motioned for her to come closer. She nodded and started in my direction, but got detoured by another well-wisher. She flashed me an apologetic smile. I winked, deciding I could talk to her later.
Since I couldn’t question Gellie, I settled on Darren. He was seated on a sofa, reading a magazine, ignoring the curious glances of his fellow florists. Tyrone wouldn’t approve of this boorish attitude. I walked over to Darren and perched on the arm of the chair that was across from him.
“You’re not mingling,” I said.
Darren’s expression was sullen as he looked up at me, then raised his gaze to the second level of the hotel. “He’s a righteous ass.”
I chuckled. “Since you’ve got a minute, I’d like to ask you about a lily show you attended here at the conservatory back in June.”
Lilies That Fester Page 11
