Cam mock glared, then pulled out her notebook and rested it on the rail to show Annie the features she’d noted in the garden; she pointed to various areas as she explained.
“Hannah’s got another list—Ian’s list, but this was mine.”
“Ian’s a jerk-off who can bite me.”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
Annie and Cam spun together; Cam was mortified. The Garden Delights crew had joined them on the balcony. Annie looked unfazed.
“We ready?”
“Let me look at the plan,” Ian said.
“No, you show up late, you can catch up as we go.”
“Annie, they aren’t late. This is when we said. We just started early for those sunrise shots, because of the weather front.”
“Front? You should have called.” Tom scuttled forward, concerned and eager to get on the same page.
“What for? We won’t need lighting until the greenhouses.”
Cam elbowed Annie. There was no reason to be rude to Tom. Fortunately, though, he had missed the signal.
“Because I have a list of shots.”
He pulled out the list that was indeed in Hannah’s writing. Annie and Ian dived at the list, then began fussing immediately, each tugging to see it first. Cam had never seen Annie respond so irritably toward anyone and wondered what had happened two nights earlier to set off this dynamic.
Tom finally used his fingers to give a loud whistle, then pulled the list to his own chest.
“If Cam’s right and there’s a weather front coming, we need to keep moving. We’ll have to get all the outside shots today, which means we don’t have time for whatever this is.” He swept his hand in a gesture to show he was referring to the Ian-Annie struggle, then he took the lead.
As they moved down the stairs, Cam shuddered when she eyed the azaleas where Jean-Jacques had been found.
“You okay?” Hannah asked. She seemed genuinely concerned.
“I just don’t like seeing where someone died.”
“He didn’t die there.”
“What?” Cam slowed down, providing a little distance from the rest of the crew, and Hannah slowed with her and leaned toward Cam.
“I’m sure he didn’t. Azaleas don’t smell all that strong. When I identified him, I had to get close because they didn’t want to move him yet. He smelled of jasmine.”
“Why did you identify him?”
“I don’t know. I saw the police arrive. Giselle directed them to the spot and I was out here. They asked if I knew who it was.”
Cam had all but forgotten Hannah had been asked to identify the body.
“And you think he died in the jasmine?”
“Either that or he rolled in it and then died. Died in it makes more sense to me.”
“Did you tell the police?”
She frowned. “They didn’t ask me anything like that at all—I mean, I only identified him initially. Then later, none of the questions were about that—they were about the last few days up until the police arrived—not after.”
“I think it would help if they knew. I doubt any of the official people have your flower expertise. I’m meeting with Jake later this morning, so I can tell him, but he might have more questions.”
“You know where I’m staying. So does he, I guess.”
Hannah’s pleasantness and concern were such a nice contrast to the Ian-and-Annie war that she didn’t want to return to the others, but they had to. Tom periodically had questions on direction, as he had spent less time in the garden than Cam had.
Cam took one brief break from them when she spotted Henry Larsson tending to some rhododendrons. She wanted to make sure she knew where all the jasmine was, though she didn’t let him know why she was asking. She quickly returned then to the crew, as she worried they’d never get done without her peacekeeping.
Tom and Cam, on alternate urgings, managed to push Annie and Ian through a handful of locations, but their bickering got louder and more annoying as they moved. Finally Cam blew up at Ian.
“What the hell is your problem?”
Ian turned and, surprisingly she thought, looked Cam in the eye.
“Why don’t you ask Miss Crowbar here.”
The force of venom made Cam step backward. She looked at Annie, who blanched.
“What are you talking about?” Cam asked, though less confidently.
But Ian had turned to Annie.
“You remember Paul, don’t you? Psycho.”
Cam had never seen Annie so ready to crumble. She knew Annie had dated a Paul, but it was when Cam lived in Chicago, so she didn’t know anything about how it had ended except that it had been sudden. She could see Ian’s words had really upset Annie. She knew Annie too well, though, to take what Ian said at face value. It was time to defend her friend.
“You just back off! I’ve known Annie for twenty years, and if there really is some story under your hot air, I know she was in the right, but I think you’re mistaken. So back it up a notch and just do your damn job!”
Both Ian and Annie fumed, but Cam was glad Annie looked less haunted than she had a minute earlier. They managed to make it through three more locations before they found themselves in the jasmine.
Annie got to work, ignoring Ian, working with Tom—a strategy they’d used successfully for the last three spots. Cam, feeling disaster had been averted, let her eyes wander. She looked for a bush with a lot of blooms knocked off. It took a while. There was a lot of jasmine—it smelled too good for a gardener not to be tempted to plant a lot of it.
Finally, she spotted a disheveled shrub and approached, examining it more closely as Annie ignored Ian and snapped photos. Tom and Hannah chatted amicably, and Ian acted superior.
Cam crouched, not certain why she was so interested. She’d avoided the azaleas where Jean-Jacques had been found, so why now the curiosity in the place he’d probably died? But she couldn’t seem to help herself.
And then she spotted it. Resting in the branches of the partially squashed jasmine bush was a charcoal glint that, on closer inspection, was a cell phone.
Cam looked either way, feeling suddenly guilty for her find. She was nervous but excited. She had the foresight not to touch it with her bare hand, but not the willpower, once the phone was retrieved, to not look at who Jean-Jacques had called last. She immediately regretted looking.
The last call made was to “Vange.” That was undoubtedly Evangeline Patrick—there just weren’t that many people who could be nicknamed “Vange.” “Sam,” the second-to-last contact listed, was a little more ambiguous, but Cam instantly recognized the associated number. She had dialed it herself repeatedly the day before, until she’d finally plugged the number into her own contacts, though the recipient had failed to answer any of the calls. It was Samantha Hollister. Cam paused a moment to catch her breath and then pressed buttons to look at each contact again. Samantha had been called the night before the murder, but Evangeline had been called the morning of the murder at six thirty.
She dropped the phone in the pocket of her satchel, hoping nobody had seen, then looked at her watch.
“Shoot! Jake said he had questions for me at ten and it’s ten after. If I leave you four, is it possible you won’t kill each other before I get back?”
“Not funny,” Hannah muttered. She edged closer to Tom, who remained oblivious.
Cam felt a little guilty leaving. Ten was the earliest Jake might appear, and she actually thought he’d come find her, but she needed a break from the bickering and didn’t have the patience to dawdle. She wanted to get the phone to Jake and find out if he’d learned anything else. She also had a small part of her trying to forget the cryptic accusations Ian had thrown at Annie. What the heck was she supposed to make of “Miss Crowbar”? And how was that related to Paul? She tried to convince herself it wasn’t even the same Paul. It might just be a coincidence.
She searched her memory for what she had heard about Annie’s Paul. Cam had been in first an internsh
ip, then a very busy job in Chicago, swept up in a brand-new relationship with Rob and not only busy but also distracted. She remembered Annie dating Paul—Annie felt it was getting serious, but then it was just over. All Cam heard was, “He wasn’t who I thought he was.” She could hardly draw conclusions from that, though. Every person who’d ever ended a relationship in the history of time could say that. Nobody broke it off without feeling a little that way.
Surprisingly, when she reached the house, Jake was already there. Seeing Jake reminded Cam that Annie had moved on and felt no lingering sadness. It had been a few years, after all, and while Annie hadn’t had another serious relationship, she had seemed content until now with the field of men at her disposal.
“Hey, Jake. How were the dance lessons?”
“Great! We taught each other some new moves.”
“I bet.”
“What? No! Not like that! I mean—”
“I’ve been Annie’s best friend a long time. I’m sure you tried to be a gentleman.”
He blushed and then caught sight of his clipboard, which seemed to pull him back to the task at hand.
“I have some questions about a few people.”
“I remember. But I think you’ll want something first. Do you have… one of those gloves or something? And a bag?”
“Evidence?”
Cam nodded.
He reached into his satchel for a tissue-sized box and then grabbed the wrist edge of a latex glove, handing it to Cam. He helped Cam slide it on, but then he had to retrieve an evidence bag from his car to put the phone into. While he was gone, Cam pulled out a few extra pairs of gloves—they seemed a handy thing to have.
When he returned, Cam held the tip of the cell phone antenna with her thumb and pinky. He had his own gloves on by then, but he neglected to hold out the zippered bag toward her.
“Did you touch it already?”
“I had a tissue, so not directly.”
He frowned, but then nodded.
“Where did you find it?”
“In the jasmine. Hannah said when she identified the body, he smelled like jasmine, even though he was laying across an azalea by the house.”
“And she never said anything during questioning. So he must have died somewhere else.”
“It sounded likely, so I looked out in the garden while we were shooting pictures, and there is a squashed jasmine bush. In the branches I found—”
“I guess that explains the lack of blood with his body.” Jake had cut her off. He pulled out his own cell phone and called to get the forensic team back.
“They’ll be here in ten minutes. And you can show us where?”
She nodded. “The phone…”
He held up a hand and called somebody else, apparently his supervisor, then looked back at Cam.
“Can you meet me here in fifteen minutes? I need to check on something.”
Cam nodded, dropping the cell phone into the bag Jake had finally held close enough for her to reach. There was no point arguing. Her watch said it was ten thirty, so she decided to see if there was still coffee somewhere.
To her surprise, Joseph was hovering near the kitchen.
“Joseph! What are you doing here?”
“I was just checking on things for Samantha. She’s so distraught.”
“Why’s that?” Cam hated playing dumb for a Garden Society member, but things with Samantha just seemed so fishy.
“She’s just waiting for the police to come. They still need to look through Jean-Jacques’s things.”
“His things? You mean he was staying at Samantha’s?”
Joseph’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t know? I thought… well, as you were coordinating…”
“I just had his cell phone number. He didn’t tell me where he was staying.”
“Oh. Well, maybe I shouldn’t have…”
“It’s fine. I won’t say anything, but I’m sure, if Samantha’s worried, they’ll know soon. It sounds like she’s planning to tell them.”
Joseph shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his bag, but his expression wasn’t any different than he’d worn the past few days, so Cam excused herself to get her cup refilled.
Evangeline was in the kitchen filling her own cup and stepped toward Cam, giving her an unexpected hug.
“What would we do without you? You’re a lifesaver.”
Evangeline’s hug suggested firmer parts than a woman in her late thirties was supposed to have, and her chemically held hair almost made Cam sneeze, but the spontaneous gesture was sweet, even if it unbalanced Cam, who was only a hugger with her closest friends.
“Really, it’s just my job.”
“But it’s not. I can tell how much you love it, and we’re all grateful.”
“I just hope this gets solved quickly. Even with great pictures, the magazine won’t take a chance on us if we’re mixed up in an open murder investigation.”
Evangeline shivered.
“I hope they catch them, too, but it may be hard. Jean-Jacques had no shortage of enemies.”
“You were friends, weren’t you?” Cam asked. She was guessing, but it was an educated guess.
“Oh, I guess I thought we were once, but I’ve learned a lot of terrible things since then.”
“You were talking pleasantly at the supper.”
“I was not making waves, as this event is important to Neil and Samantha.”
Jake came in, breaking the moment.
“Cam, you ready to show them? Forensics is here.”
“Forensics?” Evangeline jumped.
“I found evidence Jean-Jacques was killed out in the garden, not by your room.”
Evangeline looked, if anything, relieved, but Jake hustled Cam out of the kitchen before she could learn why. She also wondered when Evangeline and Jean-Jacques had been friends. She’d only been referring to the amicability of the supper conversation, but Evangeline had suggested that that cordiality had been an act, that their friendship had ended long ago. Jean-Jacques and Evangeline had nothing but age in common. Cam also felt a little guilty for not sharing that Evangeline’s number had been in the phone she found, but she supposed it helped the investigation to keep it secret. In fact, she probably was not supposed to know herself.
She was glad she’d kept quiet once she and Jake started walking.
“You didn’t mention the phone to her?” Jake asked in a tone that implied she should have known enough not to have mentioned it.
“Only what you just heard—evidence he was killed elsewhere,” she answered irritably. “You could have told me not to, though, if you wanted to be sure.”
“Sorry. I was just excited to have it and didn’t think about you running into her. Usually the people who find evidence aren’t friends with…”
Cam was sure “suspects” was the missing word, though he didn’t finish. Cam wondered why Evangeline was considered a suspect, since the police obviously hadn’t had the phone information earlier.
“How do you find your way out here?” He stared dumbly at the flowers and forks in the path, clearly not able to tell one path from another.
“I know these plants the same way you know a fingerprint or a sample of DNA. It’s what I studied.”
Jake nodded appreciatively and grinned at her, trying to make nice again.
“You know how to get things across to people.”
“As do you, Officer.” She didn’t expand on his smooth talking of the day before. She just let the compliment hang as she led him and the forensics team. They finally reached the jasmine. “See how the rest of the blooms are sort of uniformly distributed? Some are wilted, but those are all spread out. And see how they’re pruned to a pleasing shape?” She pointed out a number of jasmine bushes, and Jake nodded. “And so you can see how that one caught my eye?” She pointed at the one where she had found Jean-Jacques’s phone. There was a dent at the center and a lack of flowers where a large, heavy mass had clearly crashed into it.
A photographe
r began snapping pictures, both of the normal and the abnormal bushes.
“Show me where the phone was,” Jake said.
Cam went to the bush and crouched, pointing at the trine of branches that had held the cell phone off the ground.
“Those, I think. Very close to those, anyway.”
The forensic assistant ducked in and, using gloved hands, tied a small yellow ribbon to the middle branch. He then wrapped yellow crime tape around the whole area, and the three mysterious men with large kits moved in. To Cam, their actions looked random; they seemed to take a sample of this and a sample of that, but she was too far away to know whether it was a hair, fabric, leaves, grass, or some other substance they were gathering as evidence. She froze as she watched them. It was fascinating. It occurred to her how private and secluded this part of the garden was. Why would the killer have wanted to move the body, clearly risking being seen in the process?
“Okay, Cam, we can go back. They’re looking for blood in the soil and such—they’ll probably want prints from your shoes and those of everyone else who was here—maybe you could list who was with you, to see if any other prints can be found. It’s boring to watch in the best of circumstances, and I hear we have a storm coming, so they’ll need to hurry.”
She raised an eyebrow at Jake. They’d heard about the storm front together the night before. She wondered if he just compartmentalized so much he had forgotten that detail. “That’s why we were trying to rush the outside photography.”
A look of recognition crossed his face and his mouth twitched. “How’s Annie doing?”
His grin couldn’t hide his infatuation.
“Great, if she doesn’t kill Ian.”
She regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth.
“What do you mean, Ian? What’s wrong with Ian?”
“He’s an arrogant fool who is bossy and seems to have it in for Annie. Hey, I’ve got a question,” she said, partially as a diversion. “Why would a killer move a body from a hidden, quiet place to a busier place?”
Jake’s face elongated as he thought. “Normally it’s a statement, though it’s also possible, maybe more likely in this case, that it was done to make somebody else look guilty.”
The Azalea Assault Page 8
