Greenhouse Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-6

by Wendy Tyson

  “I thought the visionary was Harriet Mantra.”

  “She and her husband financed much of the company’s start-up. But Chase and Barbara had the idea for the drug that was the basis for the company. Jatin helped to get the financing, and Xavier was the force behind selling the concept. He still is.”

  “Yet Harriet is the boss?”

  “Follow the money.” Martine took a sip of her tea. “Great ideas are worth nothing without execution. Harriet’s money made it all possible.”

  “How big is the company now?”

  “A few dozen employees.”

  “Isn’t all this—” Megan waved her hand around “—a bit much for such a small company?”

  “We’re small, but we have a big idea. Several big ideas, in fact. Once the FDA approves one of our drugs, we’ll get bigger.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Soon, I hope. We all hope.”

  “All?”

  Martine met Megan’s gaze with a contemplative one of her own. She seemed to be deciding how much to share. “BOLD is not a public company. Right now, we rely on private investors, a few grants, Harriet’s husband’s family money. A lot of pharma companies start out this way. The money comes when the product goes live. Until then, we work hard and hope. And that’s where this team comes in. They’re amazing. Maddening, but amazing. Now, without Chase…I’m not sure where the company will be. At first glance, he may not seem like a science whiz, but he had that rare mix of science smarts and business know-how.”

  Megan had a hard time matching the man she’d met to a scientific visionary. But she’d been wrong about people in the past. She tried not to repeat mistakes.

  “Martine, I’m curious about Jatin. Your admission to Denver that he has you nervous. Has Jatin ever done anything in the past that’s made you fearful? Anything to give you an indication that he could be violent?”

  Martine hesitated. Only for a second, but Megan caught it. “No.”

  “Really?”

  Martine looked down at her hands. She traced the edge of her paper cup with one red nail. “Okay, maybe once. He can be protective of Barbara. Barbara and I…well, as I mentioned, there’s no love lost there. He thought I’d done something terrible and he confronted me. This was a while ago, not now.” She rubbed her arms in short, hard strokes. “There’s a lot of pent up passion beneath that calm exterior. He was more forceful in his confrontation than he needed to be.”

  “He hurt you?”

  “He could have been gentler.”

  “What did he think you’d done?”

  Martine didn’t answer the question. Instead, she said, “Daniel’s not immune to the bad blood in the group. Did he tell you what happened with him and Chase?”

  “No, he didn’t.” A sore spot. Megan tried to shake her annoyance and concentrate on the conversation with Martine, but she couldn’t get rid of the lump in her gut. Even as they sat here, she could feel her phone buzzing.

  “It was my fault, I’m afraid. Or at least he blames me.” Martine stirred her tea, thinking. “Daniel and I met in New York about five years ago. I knew he was married, but Chase told me the marriage between his friend and Lilian was basically over. I was single. Daniel was handsome, honest, educated. Kind.” Martine gave Megan an apologetic smile. “All the things that are hard to come by in a single man, it seems. You’re a very lucky woman.”

  Megan waited for more. This part she knew from what Denver had told her.

  Martine sipped her tea, wiped her mouth with a neatly-folded napkin. “Daniel agreed to meet me for drinks or coffee—I can’t remember which. Anyway, we went out, and I had a blast. He was so warm and attentive. I may have mistaken his kindness for genuine interest. Chase met up with us. I took some photos of Denver, Chase took photos of the two of us. It was all in good fun. Until Chase posted them on social media.”

  Understanding dawned on Megan. “Denver’s wife, Lilian, saw them and thought he was cheating.”

  Martine nodded. “I called him after that, and his wife answered. I’m sure it made things worse. He refused to talk to me.”

  Megan understood the bitterness—toward Martine and even Chase. Chase the clown who didn’t think through the consequences of his actions, or the impact on other people. Megan was starting to get a clearer picture of what Chase was about: Chase. And Martine the seductress, on the sidelines, looking for love. A cliché, perhaps. How to see beyond the cliché?

  “Was that what happened between you and Barbara as well? She suspected a dalliance with her husband?”

  “Oh, you say it so nicely, Megan.” Martine’s smile lacked warmth. “I’m glad to have someone to talk to during all of this. Someone nonjudgmental. Someone not at BOLD.”

  The unexpected compliment made Megan flush. She nodded. “It must be hard to deal with everything—and work on top of it.”

  “It is.” Martine looked down at her laptop. “But you asked about Barbara, and I digress. In that instance, I wasn’t at fault. Barbara’s husband hit on me during our holiday party. He’s a drunk and a gambler and I hate him. That night, he was drunk or stoned as usual, and I was by myself near the pool, in the shadows. He’d been leering at me for months, but the drugs made him bold enough to make a move. I told Barbara about it—a mistake—and certain assumptions about my role in the incident were made.” Martine waved a hand, clearly uncomfortable. “We’ve all moved past it.”

  Megan frowned. Or had they?

  Megan thanked Martine for her time. Before she left, she pointed to the laptop. “At the risk of sounding nosy, I saw the photos on your computer. They didn’t look like corporate photos. They seemed…artistic.”

  Like that, Martine’s face was transformed. She smiled broadly, a twinkle in her eyes. “Did you think so?” She flipped open the computer and rebooted it. Immediately Megan got a better view of the array of photos she’d glimpsed before. Children. Elderly. Abandoned buildings. Empty streets. Street cats. Street children. Flowers. Happy faces, sad faces, loneliness so absolute it twisted Megan’s heart.

  “You have a gift,” Megan whispered, awed. “So much…truth.”

  Martine sat back in her chair. “This is my passion. Photography. I discovered it late in life.”

  “It clearly gives you happiness.”

  “Happiness.” Martine sat back. “I don’t know if that’s the right word, but it may be the closest thing I have to describe it. When I’m shooting, I feel complete. Like I’m doing what I was meant to do.”

  The man next to them got up with a huff and left the Starbucks. A woman in a burqa carrying a tall cup of something steaming took his place.

  Megan glanced again at the photographs. Each so poignantly captured an emotion. “Have you considered turning this into a full-time career?”

  Martine’s glow faded. “Sometimes all a girl has are dreams.”

  Eighteen

  Megan stared at her cell phone. It was after ten and dark outside, but Denver had texted her six times. In the last text he said he was handling an emergency. Could she meet him at the farm afterwards?

  Despite some misgivings, Megan agreed. After speaking with Martine, she was still upset that he hadn’t told her the whole truth from the beginning, but clearly his feelings about Chase and Martine were wrapped up in his personal life from long ago, including his failed marriage. Sorting through that kind of emotional baggage could be hard for anyone. Denver, as gregarious as he was, was also a man of science who considered himself rational and above drama. He’d run from anything emotionally messy, and this was messiness personified.

  Back at the farm, Megan was greeted outside by an ecstatic Sadie and Gunther. She petted the dogs and spoke to them as they followed her inside the house. She was surprised to find Bibi sitting in the kitchen with Denver.

  “I didn’t see the 4Runner,” Megan said.

  “Bob
by dropped me off. The emergency was handled pretty quickly. He stopped by to ask me some questions, and then he drove me here.”

  “Which means he asked you questions at the station. Official-like.”

  Denver nodded. He looked tired, but his eyes shown with a fiery fervor.

  “Denver was telling me about his friends,” Bibi said. Her voice was carefully metered, which meant he’d also told her Megan was angry at him.

  “They’re quite a bunch.” Megan pulled a seat and sat down at the kitchen table.

  Bibi had poured lemonade for her and Denver, and she handed Megan a glass as well. “Life is complicated, Megan. You of all people should know that.” She added a scone to the lemonade. “Eat something. If I know you, you haven’t eaten all day.”

  Gratefully, Megan broke apart the orange scone. Her stomach growled. “You sound like Aunt Sarah, Bibi.”

  “It must be the end of days, then.” Bibi smiled. “Seriously, we need to sit and talk through all of this. Like it or not, a person is dead and some people we care deeply about—Denver, Eloise, even Bobby—are involved. This isn’t the first time we’ve been faced with something like this. We should be pros by now.”

  Megan laughed. She couldn’t help it. Her grandmother was eighty-five now, and that tiny, stooped frame packed more punch than most people a quarter of her age. Megan felt a surge of love for Bibi. She was right, of course. King was in over his head, and people they loved had something at stake.

  “I spoke with Martine again,” Megan said. “She shared some interesting tidbits about Jatin.” Megan repeated what Martine had said about Jatin’s liberal use of force, and the issues between Martine, Barbara, and Barbara’s husband. She left out the information about Chase’s actions and the impact on Denver’s marriage. Later.

  Denver scowled. “When you have a chance, Megs, look up Barbara’s husband. Self-made multi-millionaire and ass extraordinaire.” Denver gave her his name.

  “It doesn’t sound like he recognizes boundaries.”

  “He has a strong personality. Believes himself above just about everything. Barbara met him after she and Jatin broke up. I think he was her rebound guy. He’s older, handsome, and rich. I guess for Barbara he was what she needed at the time. Someone who took charge so she didn’t need to.”

  “Do they have kids?” Bibi asked.

  “No kids. Barbara miscarried a year into the marriage. She never spoke of babies again.”

  Megan took a few bites of scone, thinking about Barbara. Barbara seemed level-headed and good natured. She had trouble picturing her with someone like the man Denver was describing, and she said as much.

  “He’s a high-powered attorney and land developer in California. They had a bicoastal marriage for a while. Barbara seems happy enough, but I can totally see him hitting on other women.”

  “Can you see Jatin reacting to Martine with violence?”

  “No.” Denver turned his cup around in his large hand. Megan saw Band-Aids on his thumb and forefinger and the rippled scarring of a recent wound on his palm. “I’ve told ye before, Megs, that Martine lies.”

  “Lies?” Bibi said.

  “She’s a compulsive liar.” Denver took a deep breath. “I told you, Megan, that I met Martine in New York City years ago, when my marriage was in trouble. Bonnie, do you remember Lilian?”

  Bibi nodded. By the pinched look on her face, Megan didn’t think she had particularly cared for the former Winsome resident.

  “We were having some problems,” Denver said, “and I needed to get away, so I went into the city to clear my mind and decide what to do. I knew things were bad, but I thought marriage counseling might help. I hadn’t given up on our relationship. It’s not in my nature.”

  Megan nodded. She placed a hand on his, careful of the wounds. He squeezed her hand gently.

  “Anyway, Chase texted me and we realized we were both in the city. We met for drinks. Martine was with him. She was friendly and seemed down to earth. A good listener. The next day, Chase had business to attend to, so I said I’d show Martine around the city. We had coffee, went to the Strand bookstore, walked around. Nothing happened. I didn’t even particularly care for her. My mind—my heart—were with Lilian.”

  He swallowed. Megan heard the ticking of the clock in the other room, the rattle of the loose boards on the porch. She glanced at Bibi, who was studying Denver. Her grandmother was wearing pink plaid pajama bottoms and a white “Winsome is for lovers” t-shirt. Her white hair was pushed back from her face, and there was sadness in her eyes. Right now, Bibi looked like she’d taken on the weight of the world.

  “How hard this must have been for you,” Bibi said to Denver. “To be in New York while your marriage was collapsing.”

  “As fate would have it, the trip was the tipping point. Martine took some photos of me. Laughing. Smiling. Chase took a few of the two of us. He put them on social media, and Lilian saw them. She used them to justify sleeping with our contractor. And our accountant.”

  Megan closed her eyes. “Oh, Denver.”

  “Ta. It’s okay. I understand now that our marriage was already over. Lilian had probably cheated before. This just made it easier for her to justify her actions. The worst part was that Martine called my house. Repeatedly. When Lilian asked who was calling, she said it was my girlfriend.” He shook his head. “You can’t believe anything she says. So when Martine accuses Jatin, I take it with a pound of salt.”

  “She remained friends with Chase?”

  “She works with all of them, but if you notice, she’s more of an outsider.”

  Bibi poured more lemonade from a glass pitcher into Denver’s cup. “People like that can be the most dangerous. Sometimes they make up in fantasy what they lack in reality.”

  “What do you mean, Bibi?” Megan asked.

  “Maybe she was in love with Chase. Maybe she thought Chase was in love with her.”

  “Martine as the murderer?” Denver shook his head. “Liar, yes. Killer? I just don’t see it.”

  Megan’s mind flitted to other murders—and other murderers. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “Be right back.” Bibi left the room, and Megan and Denver exchanged a glance.

  “What about a year ago?” Megan asked. “You said you’d seen Chase and Martine then.”

  “Aye. Chase and I hadn’t really spoken. I blamed him for contributing to my marriage issues. He wanted to make things better between us. They were here for BOLD. I agreed to see them.”

  “And you patched things up.”

  Denver shrugged. “We had drinks. Danced around the topic. Did the typical guy thing of sweeping it all under the rug. I guess part of me was still angry. Is still angry.” Denver swallowed, looked away. “It wasn’t so much what he did, it was the way he did it. No thought about me or my life. And afterwards? A big joke. But that was Chase.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry,” Denver said. “For not telling you all the sordid bits before. I guess I was still angry at Chase. I was afraid ye would think that meant I missed my ex-wife or the life we had together.” He squeezed Megan’s hand. “I don’t. I never would have met you if we’d stayed together.”

  Megan smiled. “I’m sorry for everything you went through.”

  “Lilian was a confused woman. We met young. She wanted me—until she didn’t. The life of a vet means late hours and unpredictable schedules.” He smiled, and two dimples popped up on either side of his mouth. “And dog hair and a smelly car and a house that sounds like a zoo. Not her cup of coffee, I’m afraid.”

  Megan had only seen one photograph of Lilian. She was an attractive, slim Asian woman with long black hair and high cheekbones. In the photo, Lilian wore a white dress and high red heels. Her perfect skin had been shaded by a broad-brimmed black hat. More New York debutante than wife of a country vet.


  “I had nothing to do with Chase’s death. My anger was more hurt. We should have talked about it, maybe, but you met Chase. Talking about feelings wasn’t really his thing.”

  “It’s okay,” Megan said. “I understand.”

  Denver was about to say something else when Bibi returned with a giant wipe board. She propped it up on the counter, facing the table, and pulled five colored Erase markers from her pocket.

  “I took this from the Bridge club. Who needs to be somewhere tonight?” Bibi asked.

  Fighting a smile, Megan said, “Not me.”

  Denver shook his head. “Nor I—assuming no more emergencies.”

  Bibi gave a definitive nod. “Good. Megan, coffee. Denver, can you do a quick check on the animals?” Bibi pulled the black pen from the pile. “Then we can get started.”

  “It’s late, Bibi.”

  Bibi smiled. “You two are too young to need that much rest. And the comfort of sleep is denied to me most nights, anyway. Might as well make some use of the witching hours.”

  Megan sat cross-legged on her kitchen chair. She’d changed into flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top, and her shoulder-length dark hair was pushed back from her face with a barrette. The two cups of coffee she’d drunk had worked their magic, and she was feeling borderline manic. She watched as Bibi made notations on the board in her teacher-like script.

  They’d created two categories of would-be connections: school student/associate and BOLD employee. Under each category, they listed possible suspects. They’d had “stranger” included, too, but realized there wasn’t much they could do to track down a random murderer. They listed “stranger” in the corner, off by itself.

  Under school student/associate they’d listed Dillon’s name.