Carnations and Deadly Fixations

by Abby Reede

  Both Rose and Tracy nodded in agreement and with this theory on the table, Tracy was definitely not going up there anymore to run until Becky’s killer was behind bars. It was super creepy to consider, but better safe than sorry she thought. Just then a flyer came zipping through the mail slot in the front door and the three of them went to see what that was all about. It was an announcement for a summer fete in Richardson Park. Lots of entertainment, craft merchants, music, and local artists were to be in attendance.

  “What an opportunity, Aunt Rose!” Tracy exclaimed. “This shindig will be a perfect platform for us to take advantage of following up on the grand re-opening.”

  They were all smiles as they began to imagine what displays they could put out and how much more exposure this event could give them to drum up more business. But just then, their air of gaiety came to a halt as the bell over the door rang and in walked Detective Copeland. Their faces went ashen and Tracy reached over absentmindedly to drop the flyer on a table as he approached.

  “At ease, ladies…” Copeland said as he smiled easily. “I’m here on personal business, not in an official capacity.”

  Tracy breathed a deep sigh of relief and went to see what he needed.

  “Sorry about that Detective, but with the investigation and all, I guess we’re still a bit on edge when we see you these days.”

  “No problem,” he replied, “it’s one of the burdens of being a cop… people always seeing you with your cop hat on. People forget we have personal lives.”

  She joined him in a gentle laugh and once again Tracy was struck by how much an easy smile and a laugh softened his features.

  “So, what can In Season do for you today, Detective?”

  “I just need some carnation seeds.”

  Tracy remembered the comments that Pastor Butler had made about Copeland and his work at the parish with their garden. He was apparently involved in a personal garden as well. She bagged up his purchase and gave him his change. Part of her brain was telling her to just let him go without anymore on the investigation, but seeing as how he seemed to be in a casual and upbeat mood, maybe with his guard down, she took a chance that he might be more forthcoming.

  “Anything new on the investigation?”

  “Not really. It is chugging along as these things do, but if you should come across anything new or that you think would be of interest, feel free to contact me.”

  Tracy was beginning to feel that old annoyance with his stonewalling that had been going on since day one. She really had been hoping this personal call might have relaxed his tight grip on the case, but it was apparently not to be. If that was how it was going to be, then Tracy figured she might as well plow ahead.

  “Any more thought to my stalker?”

  With that comment, the warm and friendly face of Warren Copeland disappeared and the professional cold expression of Detective Copeland returned. Tracy knew she had gone over the line.

  “Look, Miss Adams,” Copeland said with a stern voice and a steely look in his eyes, “nothing has changed. I have told you, time and time again, that I cannot share any details of an ongoing investigation. I am afraid you may have been trying to take advantage of my coming in here for a personal purchase as another way to extract information.”

  “No, Detective, that is not how it is at all! I am just on pins and needles until this thing is over.”

  “Perhaps so, but as you once said to me, that is sure not how it appears.”

  Tracy blanched at having her own words thrown back at her.

  “And as to this stalker? Until there is some solid evidence, that is just your own emotional overreaction to nothing.”

  “You mean like this silly, overwrought, hyper-emotional female, right?”

  “No, ma’am…that is not what I said. I think it is time for me to leave.”

  “I could not agree more, Detective.”

  He strode back out through the front door as Tracy fumed with exasperation. Rose came over to her as she was angrily wiping up some spilled water on the counter from an earlier order.

  “Far be it for me to intrude, Tracy, dear, but would you care for an outsider’s observation?”

  Tracy looked at her, but did not respond.

  “Even despite all that is going on with Detective Copeland professionally, my old lady intuition tells me that that man has a crush on you.”

  “What! Have you lost it, Aunt Rose? Do we need to start looking into an assisted care facility for you? “I would rather die than be associated with that jerk personally!”

  “Mmm…mmm…so you say. But I still think he is interested. Who makes a special trip in to a florist shop for flower seeds that you could pick up at any drug store or grocery store?”

  “Tiffany?” Rose asked. You’re young…what’s your take?”

  “Pretty obvious to me, Rose. Plus, one more thing I would add.”

  They both looked to her as she smiled slyly.

  “My young woman intuition tells me the feelings are mutual.”

  Rose stifled a chuckle as Tracy looked at them, her jaw heading for the floor.

  “Have you two been drinking on the job or something?”

  Rose could no longer contain her giggle as Tiffany added one last thought.

  “You know, Tracy, I don’t know all there is to know about the world or relationships, but there are two points I would pass along to you here. One…from Shakespeare’s Hamlet: ‘me thinks the lady doth protest too much’. And two…this one much more pedestrian…remember that the opposite of love is not hate, but apathy…”

  12

  A t the summer fete in Richardson Park, everyone in attendance was all smiles and laughing as they mingled and partook of every offering. For In Season, nearly everyone seemed to be dropping by their booth to express their compliments to Rose and Tracy on their elaborate and stunning arrangements. Well…. almost everyone. As Tracy was in the middle of a conversation with a woman who was new in town and looking for a floral supplier, she looked up to see the scowling and agitated face of Emily Maher stomping her way toward the In Season booth. She did not like to dehumanize anyone—even Emily—but all Tracy could think of, as she spotted Emily closing in on them, was a wounded animal on the attack.

  Fortunately, the booth had cleared of most of its crowd by the time Emily arrived and she immediately flew into a barrage of insults and attacks aimed at the shop and Tracy and Rose.

  “Well, if this isn’t just precious,” Emily snorted in derision as she looked over the In Season booth with disdain and scorn. “Are you doing anything these days to try to compete with Blooming Bouquets?!”

  Tracy just remained silent as she was sure there was more to come and did not want to get into a screaming match with Emily in this public setting.

  “But I suppose when you are the second banana, you do what you have do, right, dear? Becky was so right about you and Rose.”

  “Right?” Tracy finally asked quietly.

  “In Season’s time has come and gone. Blooming Bouquets is the go-to florist now for anyone that really matters. But I suppose someone has to be there to nibble at the crumbs and bottom-feeders. It’s cute, Tracy, but face it…you will never be able to come close to competing with us these days!”

  Tracy could see she was not going to be able to stem her assault, so she tried to shift the narrative to calm her down.

  “How is your booth going here at the fete, Emily?”

  “Save it, Tracy! You know very well that the fete committee would only allow one floral provider to set up here, and somehow, you arranged that to block us out today…I have no idea who you paid off, but there it is!”

  “Look, Emily….” Tracy began, but Emily just continued to talk over her, growing angrier and more confrontational as time went on.

  “Wasn’t it bad enough that you came barging into Blooming Bouquets and tried to poach customers away from us? Now a deliberate attempt to shut us out of another opportunity!”

  By this
time other people in the vicinity were noticing the commotion and Tracy could see many eyes were now focused on the raging Emily—the last thing she wanted at the moment. Just when she felt as if she was being pushed into a corner, and having no other option but to either begin to defend herself, or get a security officer to remove Emily, a man approached the booth with a smile. He looked vaguely familiar to Tracy but at the moment she could not place him. But as he got near, it finally hit her: Roger Fullerton, the events management bigshot, who had made that unsolicited and somehow self-aggrandizing speech at the grand re-opening. She had no idea what his intent was, but for the moment he had distracted Emily as she looked up smiling that paste-on false smile she was so good at.

  In just seconds, Emily had gone from snarling beast to little miss sunshine and was beaming at Roger like a love-sick schoolgirl. This was, thought Tracy, a ploy to make sure Blooming Bouquets was still high on Roger’s list of preferred vendors—obviously she had not gotten wind of his speech at the grand-re-opening, whether it had been genuine or just self-serving.

  “Roger! How lovely to see you again! When will we be seeing you again at Blooming Bouquets?” she asked.

  “Yes…well…thanks, Emily, but I am not so sure we will be doing business with you any longer.”

  “Why? Everyone in Fern Grove knows we are the best!”

  “Matter of opinion, Emily. But with the unprofessional tirade I just witnessed, even if that were so, you are no one I would patronize. This fete is a wonderful event for everyone in Fern Grove and as far as I can tell, they are all having a wonderful day. What we do not need is you stomping around like a wild banshee with unfounded accusations. It’s embarrassing for the town and quite frankly makes you look unbalanced. You have had your say, as nasty and disrespectful as it was, and now maybe you should just move along. You are putting a damper on the whole event.”

  Emily’s face fell suddenly as if no one had ever spoken to her in that manner before—and Tracy considered that perhaps was correct. She obviously considered Roger a major client and realizing that she had just driven him away, she looked like she might faint.

  “Please, Emily…” Roger continued, “just go on about your business. Don’t ruin the whole fete. Do not make this any worse by us having to have you removed, OK?”

  Crestfallen, but resigned to the admonition she had just received from Roger, Emily gathered herself as best she could and took her leave. But not before throwing one last penetrating glare of anger and resentment in Tracy’s direction.

  “Thanks so much for stepping in, Mr. Fullerton.” Tracy said after Emily had slunk away.

  “No problem, Tracy…and please, it’s Roger. She was causing a scene. I really admire that you kept your composure and did not sink to her level.”

  “I was very close, actually…thanks again for helping me avoid a cat fight.”

  “So, Tracy…in the spirit of the summer fete, what are your plans for In Season?”

  “Just trying to build on the grand re-opening you attended and put the shop back on the map, so to speak, of where it once was. My aunt had some lean years due to some personal distractions, but everything we have done, since our event at the store seems to be indicating we are on the right track, including today, until…well…”

  “I’d not worry about Emily. I think people seeing how she behaved, as opposed to how professional and collected you remained, will benefit you in the long run. And…sadly…it may have been the last nail in the coffin for Blooming Bouquets.”

  Tracy thought that last analogy from Roger a bit in bad taste, considering Becky’s murder, but she did not dwell on it—probably just an expression he used a lot she figured.

  “You still considering us for your business plans down the road?”

  “I am. I remember the glamour days of In Season from way back and from all I can tell, you and Rose have a great game plan to make it even better. And after what I just witnessed today, even more so. Seems like your engaging and upbeat spirit and keen mind are just what the doctor ordered, Tracy.”

  “Thanks, Roger. We would sure love to work with you.”

  “And if it is not too personal, I might add that you are one of the loveliest women making the rounds these days in Fern Grove.”

  He smiled broadly, but something in that comment and smile gave Tracy the creeps—it felt slimy. She had heard all the rumors around Fern Grove about Roger fancying himself as a real ladies man as well as a master showman in promoting his own business interests. She assumed this was just part of his style, and though Tracy did not consider herself unattractive at all, it was an oddly inappropriate comment, she thought. And in light of the redhead bombshell that had been clinging to his arm at the grand re-opening, she wondered why he would be so forward.

  “Thank you, Roger…nice of you to say.”

  “I’m guessing you keep that trim physique of yours from all that running around town.”

  “Oh…you’ve seen me?”

  “Hard to miss those neon green shoes of yours as you go jogging around during the day.”

  Tracy was now getting really creeped out. Number one, it seemed odd that he would pinpoint her shoes and number two, she never ran in the daytime in Fern Grove. She was just too busy with In Season to be taking time out during business hours for a run, and for her taste it was too warm—she always ran at night. But she kept her thoughts to herself and just nodded.

  “So, Roger…tell me about Becky and why the falling out with Blooming Bouquets came about? From what I understood, you had a pretty nice working relationship with them.”

  Roger waved off her concerns.

  “Oh…let’s just say that in terms of what my organization needed, that Becky and Blooming Bouquets would just not play ball, if you catch my drift. It was time for a change and I’m just thrilled you and Rose will now be the premiere florist in Fern Grove.”

  Tracy was not sure what he had meant by “play ball” but the glint in his eye, as he had said it, made her really uncomfortable. She was not sure if this was just his euphemism for a problem in their business or something more serious. In either case, she felt she needed to put some space between her and Roger immediately.

  “Hold that thought, Roger,” Tracy said as she slowly moved back inside the booth, “I just remembered that I forgot to tell my aunt something important—hang on.”

  Roger looked on with great confusion as she eased away from him—rarely in his experience did women move away from him. As he looked on, Tracy moved behind the booth to try and get Rose to see if she could track down Detective Copeland. She had seen him wandering the various booths at the fete and was sure he was still around. But before she could ask why, Tracy spotted him just a few booths away looking at some carvings that a local artist was offering.

  “Detective Copeland!” Tracy shouted as she ran to meet him, “you said to come with anything new?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, I think I know who killed Becky White.”

  She quickly filled him in on the odd and creepy conversation she had just had with Roger Fullerton.

  “He’s waiting for me over at our booth right now!”

  Copeland went immediately with Tracy to the booth, but Fullerton was nowhere to be found. What they did see, however, was his car speeding out of the fete and away from Fern Grove.

  13

  T racy was on her way into the shop while Rose and Tiffany were already hard at work at In Season busily organizing the logistics of all the new business they had garnished from the fete. Tracy had expected some new business to come from their presence there, but not to the degree it had actually materialized. It was a double-edged sword to be sure: the new business was a blessing, but at the same time they would be hustling over the foreseeable future to provide the flowers. Not a bad problem to have, Tracy thought, but with just the three of them it would be challenging. Rose and Tiffany looked up as Tracy came in, puzzled at her broad smile.

  “Morning, gang…how goes i
t?” Tracy asked as she tossed her purse in the back and strapped on an apron.

  “Just trying to figure out how to prioritize all this new business,” Rose replied. “What’s up with you, you look like the cat who ate the canary.”

  “What would you say if I told you I am no longer the number one suspect in the murder of Becky White?”

  “That’s great, Tracy,” Tiffany responded, “Copeland finally come to his senses?”

  Tracy snickered.

  “Yes, but not of his own accord, it seems.”