The Azalea Assault

by Alyse Carlson

  “Mr. Patrick, since we’re inside tonight, where would be best to set up for supper?”

  “Oh, let’s do it up in the drawing room. The view of the storm ought to be grand!”

  Cam couldn’t help smiling. She loved the show of a thunderstorm, too, and an enthusiastic little old man was darned cute. Dragging pans, trays, and food up the stairs would be worth it, though she’d have to figure out a special favor for Rob, who would be stuck helping her. He would be picking up all the food after work, which was no small task.

  “Do you know where the magazine crew is?”

  “I think they’re back at greenhouse three. Joseph said they were there a while ago, and that your friend Annie was upset because they’d neglected to tell her about several things.”

  “They… meaning Ian?”

  Mr. Patrick looked uncomfortable. “Joseph might have mentioned her yelling at Ian. She thought he skipped telling her on purpose, or that was what Joseph overheard at lunch—after you left again.” His expression tried for baffled disbelief, but he overdid it. Cam thought he wasn’t actually surprised.

  “Knowing Ian, he did.”

  “Is he a problem?” Mr. Patrick looked startled—again, not quite believable. Cam could only pretend she believed him, and acted as if he were sincere.

  “He seems to resent Annie. We’re almost done, though, and the pictures I’ve seen so far have been amazing.”

  “Well that’s good. Not a total loss.”

  “Not at all. When the feature comes out, the trouble will be in the past, and all this will be great publicity.”

  “Oh, I trust you on publicity, Cammi. You’re very good at that!”

  Cam stopped midcringe and smiled, trying to clear the phoniness out of it. “Thank you, Mr. Patrick.”

  There was only an hour left before the photography work for the day would be officially done, and another hour after that before supper would arrive and it would be time for Cam to take over, so for now she decided to find the crew.

  She asked Giselle for an umbrella and was shown to a large supply of them. Since she’d be in the same clothes all evening, she chose one that seemed excessive—a golf umbrella, if she put a name on it. It was in the maroon and orange of Virginia Tech, and it kept all but her ankles dry as she made her way to greenhouse three, “Summer.”

  Once the door was closed behind her, shutting out the elements, she could hear the fussing. She also started sweating, as the building was kept at about eighty-four degrees and a sprinkler system misted everything four times a day, a detail she’d just pulled into her press packets. Between the rain and the greenhouse, everything felt unpleasantly moist.

  She set the umbrella against the wall, breathed deeply, and then made her way toward the shouting.

  “Are you two still at it?” she asked once within earshot of the crew.

  Annie turned and shook her head, conveying a “not my fault” message Cam was familiar with. Unfortunately, it was a gesture that often went with an action that actually was Annie’s fault. Annie’s issues with rules meant she had often challenged them, so what she really meant by “not my fault” was “only did it because it had to be done.” Cam suspected somehow, similar rules applied here.

  She nodded and moved on. “I wondered if I could borrow Hannah for a little bit.”

  “Are you sure Ian wouldn’t be more helpful?” Annie said, eyebrows raised, a phony smile pasted.

  Cam found it hard not to laugh but was sure it was even harder for Annie not to laugh at her response.

  “Positive.” She nodded again, this time with her straightest possible face.

  Hannah looked to Tom, who nodded, then Annie and Tom got back to work while Ian scowled and criticized in the periphery.

  Cam headed back out, sharing her large umbrella with Hannah as they braved their way back to the house.

  The current downpour was intense enough that Hannah didn’t talk, but when they were under cover of the porch she asked, “So what are we doing?”

  Cam tried to think of a good cover story, but failing that, decided to take the straightforward route. “I have some questions. I thought maybe if you helped me set up for supper, I could ask them.”

  “You’re questioning me?”

  “Not exactly… okay, sort of… but only because I think, of your group, you are the observant, reliable one.”

  Hannah nodded. “I suppose that’s true. I mean… Tom’s reliable, but he doesn’t notice much, other than visual stuff—then he notices a lot.” Hannah looked uncomfortable at first, as if she’d betrayed Tom, but then appeared content with the assessment. Cam remembered her own twenty-two-year-old self and thought Hannah was proud at being thought reliable but nervous about what it might mean.

  “So what did the police ask, since it wasn’t about the body?” Hannah’s confused expression caused Cam to elaborate. “When they were investigating the murder.”

  “Where we were?”

  In spite of the questioning tone, Cam smiled and went on. “And y’all were sleeping?”

  “Of course we were.”

  “Which is hard to prove.”

  “Well…”

  “What?”

  “Not for Tom and me. We were…” She blushed deeply.

  “Together? Hannah, no shame in that. I can tell the two of you care about each other.”

  “You can?”

  “Of course I can.” It was more obvious from Hannah than Tom, but there was no reason to get technical.

  Hannah seemed to relax. “So anyway, I know he didn’t leave, and he knows I didn’t.”

  “But neither of you knows about Ian?”

  “Well… not specifically. He wasn’t with us, of course. But we didn’t hear anything.”

  “And would you say you were… real tired or sleeping lightly?”

  Hannah fidgeted a moment, as if struggling for the rightanswer. Finally she said,

  “I suppose by nearly morning, totally zonked.”

  “Okay.” Cam pretended that settled it, though she marked it in her mind as evidence of innocence for two, but not the third—not by any means, especially if the two had been up most of the night in extracurricular activities. They were probably down for the count. “And this morning… what did you mean about Ian acting strange?”

  “I didn’t… I mean… I think it’s because of Annie. He’s just really jumpy.”

  Ian made both Annie and her irritable, so it was fair they returned the favor; still, she hoped his jumpy behavior was evidence of guilt and that she’d find more of it. She went on to ask a little about each of the Garden Delights team.

  Hannah had worked with Tom from the start, about nine months, but she hadn’t known Ian for long, and had never traveled with him, so she couldn’t say whether his current behavior was normal for him.

  “It’s not very professional. He wouldn’t have a respected position at a prestigious magazine if he flew off the handle so easily all the time.”

  Cam internally agreed, though she was not above thinking Ian might just be a jerk who normally hid it better. “That first night at the party—when Jean-Jacques and Ian argued—do you have any idea what that might have been about?”

  “Just a clash of egos as far as anything we saw. Tom asked Ian later and he claimed he’d never met the guy before, so it wasn’t some old argument.”

  Rob came through the house then, dripping slightly.

  “Cam, how do you want me to get the food in without drowning it?”

  “I’ll ask Mr. Patrick if maybe you can pull into the garage.”

  He gave a thumbs-up and left, assuming it would be handled, so Cam pointed out to Hannah which tables would need to be cleared for the food, then excused herself to find one of the Patricks.

  She found Evangeline first, and Evangeline happily opened the middle bay of the garage. It was a newer addition tastefully added to the side of the house, so it didn’t draw from the historic ambiance. All the bays held cars, but the middle ca
r was a sports car, small enough that it allowed Rob to back most of the way in behind it, though the nose of the Jeep was still being pummeled by rain.

  Cam and Rob unloaded the takeout onto a cart Evangeline had parked just inside the house. Cam decided it was time to brave her theory.

  “You’ve heard Ian is saying Annie did this?”

  Rob looked grim. “Jake is barking up that tree, too, at the moment.”

  “You’re kidding! Just because he’s a two-timing—”

  “He’s not—it was his sister and nephew who Annie saw him with, and Annie’s reaction was pretty darned bizarre… dumping garbage at his house?”

  “One bag,” Cam said defensively, though she knew he was right. It was a strange thing to do.

  Sister. That made sense, actually. And it also made Annie look pretty bad, even if the damage wasn’t permanent. She clearly hadn’t let Jake explain.

  “You’re sure?”

  “That it’s his sister? He showed me a picture from when they were kids. I believe him.”

  “But now he thinks Annie—”

  “Is a nut. Look, I won’t let him go that route for long, because I know Annie. She went off half-cocked—a temporary nut, not a permanent nut. I get it. So he wants to think about it for a while. Seems fair, but I’ll pull him back.”

  She loved him for that. An earlier boyfriend had been jealous of all her friends, but Rob really liked Annie. His loyalty was important.

  “Why didn’t you major in psychology?”

  “I minored in it, in case you forgot.”

  “Right.”

  She had forgotten his minor, and almost forgotten her point, but as they finally moved the loaded cart inside, she remembered.

  “Anyway, I think Ian is trying so hard to make it look like Annie did it, because it’s really him. He’s been acting suspicious.” It was an exaggeration, but she felt it was warranted.

  “Hey, I’ve got something else.” Rob got closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “You might like this, too—not as well as Ian as killer, but at least it isn’t Nick or Annie.”

  Cam raised an eyebrow. This sounded like it might be a good news, bad news thing. “What?”

  “Jake got a copy of Jean-Jacques’s financial stuff—he was supposed to inherit a bunch of money—hadn’t come yet, but listen, the executor on the money is Samantha.”

  “Samantha already has a bunch of money—she wouldn’t kill him over money.”

  “Cam, having money isn’t an indication somebody doesn’t want more—or maybe she just felt he didn’t deserve it.”

  “Samantha isn’t like that—she’s not judgmental like that.”

  “Think about Jean-Jacques.”

  “He was her family! She wouldn’t kill her family for something petty like that.”

  “Fine, we’re back to Nick then.”

  “We are not back to Nick!” Cam felt her face grow hot. Part of her regretted asking Rob to come.

  “Do you two need any help?” The interruption startled Cam, and she nearly ran into a wall with the cart. She hadn’t noticed until now how much their voices had risen.

  Joseph stood in front of them expectantly. She hoped he hadn’t heard the specifics of their conversation; she did not care so much if he’d heard her accusations about Ian, but the whispers against Samantha were another story. That would be bad. Samantha would learn of it, and Cam hated that thought.

  “Oh, no thank you—we have it,” she said.

  “Rob, would you like a drink when you’re done? Neil asked me to host the early arrivals, as he’s still getting ready.”

  “I’d love a beer, if it’s no trouble.”

  “A beer it is. I will bring it up to the drawing room.”

  Rob looked at Cam, wide-eyed. She shrugged, trying to convince herself it didn’t matter, and at the moment, she was more annoyed at Rob than worried about what Joseph might have overheard. Besides, there was no helping it now—hopefully he wouldn’t tell anyone, but if he did, he did.

  “I didn’t see the brownies,” Cam pointed out as Joseph left them in the corridor.

  “Brownies! They’re in the passenger seat.”

  “Conveniently in reach of the driver’s seat?”

  He ignored her teasing, probably because her tone was a bit cold after his Nick comments. “I’ll come back down for them.”

  As Cam and Rob struggled to get the cart up the steps, Cam cursed herself for not accepting Joseph’s offer of help, but it was all done in five minutes, and there were no mishaps.

  She and Hannah got the food loaded into the warming trays, and then Cam went back downstairs to go over details of the evening with Evangeline. Evangeline had written an agenda because the evening seemed so filled with potential land mines. As they were going over the schedule, Annie entered the lower-level door dripping from the rain. She looked at Cam apologetically.

  “The others have gone to the guesthouse—we’re done with all but the people shots, but…”

  “Oh dear, come here.”

  Evangeline took pity on Annie and rushed over, wrapped a large beach towel around her, and then pulled her up the stairs, suggesting a hot shower. She urged Cam to follow. “Let’s find her something dry to wear,” she said.

  “I need my equipment, too,” Annie said as Evangeline pushed her toward the bathroom.

  “Oh, honey, you don’t need to go back out there. I’ll send Giselle over with a covered cart. She gets to go home soon, anyway, so she won’t mind.”

  “You’re a lifesaver.”

  Cam wasn’t sure what the statuesque Evangeline would have to fit Annie, who was at least seven inches shorter. She gave Evangeline a few hints at Annie’s style, then headed back to greet guests, hoping Evangeline and Annie could work it out. As she stood and waited, she decided to call Jake with her theory about Ian as Jean-Jacques’s murderer.

  “That’s pretty far-fetched, Cam,” he responded once she’d finished giving all the details.

  “Maybe, but Ian and Jean-Jacques argued from the first time they ever set eyes on each other, according to their claims. Why would that be?”

  “They’re lying about knowing each other. But Ian and Annie argued, too. They might also know each other and Annie’s lying about it.”

  “Annie wouldn’t lie to me like that.”

  Jake paused, having trouble being patient. “I’m just saying, by your definition it sounds like Annie and Ian actually have a connection, too, even though they haven’t met before. If you believe that, I mean.”

  “And what connection could they have? He’s got her confused with another girl.” She ignored the information about Paul, hoping she could will it not to be true.

  “This is a murder investigation. I can’t tell you that. Ask Annie if you’re so curious. You leave the investigation to the professionals, though, okay?”

  Cam fumed. She hated being patronized more than anything, but a close second was being told what to do. The two together made her blood boil. She hung up on Jake with a growl.

  “Sounds bad. What happened?”

  Evangeline had just come out of the kitchen with a bottle of wine and a tray of evenly filled glasses. She held up the tray in offering, and Cam nodded gratefully. She took one of the glasses and followed Evangeline down the hall.

  “I’ve got some ideas about the murder and Jake won’t listen, but I can’t know if they mean anything unless… look, can I ask you some questions? I mean… I don’t want to offend you…”

  Evangeline set the tray on a table in the entryway and helped herself to a glass of wine, too.

  “Peach. Should go well with the barbeque,” she said. After she’d taken a sip, she looked at Cam again. “Fire away. My life is mostly an open book anyway.”

  “They’re trying to pin this murder on Nick.”

  “Nick? You mean Jack? Your brother-in-law?” She looked and sounded disgusted, which was encouraging.

  “I noticed that.”

  “Okay, that’s
a good starting place. Why do you call him Jack?”

  “Because when I knew him, we were all Jack.” She sighed heavily and sat on a bench, sipping her wine again. “It was me being too clever, I suppose. I am Evangeline Jacqueline. Jean-Jacques was Jonathan Jacobs, and Nick was Jonathan Nicholas. We had ‘Jack’ in common. It was brilliant marketing, especially with the eye patches—we might have made it if we were just a little better.”

  “So that was you in the punk band?”

  Evangeline took a large drink and went on. “I grew up in pageants—every step watched, every word recorded—always proper. I went to an Ivy League college, still watched, and even more paranoid, as it was a lot more blue bloods, so I worried I didn’t quite fit in. Daddy was new money and not a ton of it at that. When I finished college, I went a little nuts—dye job, alias, an old friend who knew how to live rough…”

  “Old friend?”

  “Jack the first—Jean-Jacques—or Johnnie, as I knew him. My parents lived around the corner from Samantha, and he and his sister used to stay summers with her. I think Samantha hoped I’d be a good influence, but instead he was the bad one.”

  “So you knew him for… years? Did you tell the police?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “And then what about Nick?”

  “Fluke, really. We were still up north. Johnnie and I wanted to start a band. I sang, he played drums. We needed a guitarist. We searched clubs in Jersey listening for what we wanted. We heard Nick at a club, outclassing his bandmates by a long shot, and invited him to join us. He was ready for a change of scene, so he did.”

  Giselle came through with the cart. “Where to with this, ma’am?” A tarp had clearly been removed from the equipment, but Giselle still dripped on the sandstone.

  Cam reluctantly rose to help move Annie’s equipment. It was part of her job. “I’ll help you get it up on the landing where Annie has access to all of it,” she said. “Evangeline, I’ll be right back, okay?”

  Unfortunately, she was still moving things when guests began to arrive, and Cam and Evangeline took it in shifts to lead them upstairs. Rob had done his best talking to Joseph, as he could tell Cam and Evangeline were busy, but with the influx of guests he couldn’t keep it up. To say Joseph was no help with the crowd was an understatement, so after a handful of people had arrived, Cam joined Rob in the drawing room to help get the guests situated.