Fertilizing the zinnias with his blood, thought Abe a bit hysterically.
He'd died by blunt force trauma to the back of his head and been dragged into the backyard. The police had not said where he'd been dragged from, if they knew, or if the murder weapon had been found and what it might have been. Abe knew that the police often kept back certain facts to protect against crank calls and fake confessions, so they might have known a great deal more than what reached the newspapers.
The police were calling for information anyone who had seen anything, etc. They were bound to get a lot of calls. Abe had told them everything he dared yesterday, about how awful the man was, but not about his suspicions about various people. He didn't want to go spreading that sort of gossip, much less to the police!
"What do you think?" he said as they put down the last of the papers and stared at one another over the mess of newsprint.
"I think I need a drink," said Gregory, slapping down his own paper with a frown. "And it's not even ten o'clock yet."
"Is it environmentally friendly to drink?" asked Abe. He was hoping to lighten the mood, but Gregory gave him a dark look and rose.
A few minutes later, he returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. "If you're against drinking, don't have any."
"I'm not against it. I'm just trying to cheer you up."
"What, by teasing me about the environment?"
"Sorry."
"Nah. I'm a bit touchy right now, I guess. That guy really did have a way with words, didn't he?" Gregory poured himself a glass of the wine and drank some of it.
Abe had half a glass. "I hope you didn't take any of that to heart. He could have said something useful and helped you out. He chose not to. He said the most hurtful things he could, instead—and for no good reason. Just because I'm not always a fan of the way your yard looks doesn't mean you don't have some good points. It does matter what we do, how we use the earth."
He tried to think of something else he could say that wouldn't make him sound like a smarmy suck-up, but he'd run out of environmentally friendly things to say. He could offer that he recycled—but everyone here did; it was part of the township's code and nothing special. Besides, he had a feeling it would take a lot more than recycling to impress Gregory. The man was hard-core. He was so committed to reducing and reusing that he wore an ancient tweed suit that didn't really do him justice.
He was, thought Abe, really quite good-looking. He ought to dress better and show the world.
Gregory smiled, which made him look younger and shockingly handsome. "Does that mean you're ready to let me dig up part of your backyard?"
Abe smiled and used tact. "Why don't you finish with your yard first? You said it could take years. Perhaps by then I'll be convinced of how useful and beautiful it can be when you replace your grass with other things."
"I'm going to remember that," said Gregory. He seemed a lot more cheerful now, and not just because he'd had something to drink. "Well, then, who do you think did it?"
"I'm hoping it was a jilted lover, or someone he ticked off at work. I don't want to think we have a killer in our midst—someone who would kill over rude words about their garden." He shuddered. "Imagine, someone like that living around here, and not knowing who it was! You wouldn't feel safe around anyone!"
Gregory smiled. "I can't imagine you ticking anyone off, not really. You seem like the soul of tact. Even when you called my place a mud patch, you apologized right away—and, to be fair, you'd just found someone murdered at your place. You weren't exactly in the best frame of mind."
"I am sorry about that."
"See what I mean? You just don't have a cruel bone in your body." Gregory looked fondly at Abe.
Abe hoped he wasn't blushing. He didn't receive many compliments, and they always made him feel like a giddy schoolboy when he did. "Thank you."
"Do you suppose it could be the Lockwoods? She really didn't take it well, what he said about her roses. And if her husband helped her, they'd have no problem dragging him into your yard. Don't they pretty much have a feud with you? It would kill two birds with one stone, getting rid of him and putting you in the soup."
Abe shuddered as he sipped the wine. He sat the glass down. "It's hard to think of them being so cold-blooded! Besides, why would he go with them, anyway? As far as we know, he was going to head home, and then someone approached him in the parking lot and he went with them. If that's what happened, why would he go with them?"
"I don't suppose there are security cameras at the hotel?" said Gregory.
"The papers didn't say, but I imagine the police have the tapes, if there were."
"Hm." Gregory tapped his fingers on the wooden table. It had the scars of long use. It seemed to be made of some kind of particularly pleasant to look at hardwood.
Abe let his fingers trail along the grain as he thought.
"If we're going to look into it," Gregory went on, "we should look into his regular life, in case you're right and someone was planning this for a while. Someone with more than a gardener's motives."
"Shall we take a day trip?" Abe brightened. It had been a while since he'd gone to the city, and if Gregory went with him, he'd have the distraction of company to keep him from sinking into divorce-related gloom.
"I was thinking the internet first." Gregory gave him a smile and rose. "Let's see what we can find out the easy way first."
"Drat," said Abe under his breath.
"I heard that. If you want to take me out on a date, just say so," said Gregory in a teasing voice.
Abe blushed. "I—I didn't mean—"
"I know you didn't," said Gregory. "I'm getting your goat. I'm good at that, remember?"
He sounded a little sad for some reason, though, and Abe wished unhappily that he hadn't blushed. Blushing was so terribly undignified—and in a man his age, as well! He must remember that he was not a boy with a crush. He was an adult, and he did not need any more crushes in his life.
Gregory cleared his throat. When he returned with his laptop, he looked more cheerful. "Let's see what the ol' Wikipedia has to say."
Abe bit his tongue so he wouldn't say something teasing. Sometimes it was easy to think that Gregory wasn't terribly modern. But really, digging up one's lawn and using the internet were not mutually exclusive.
He wondered if he should confide his worry about Mary and Fiona to Gregory. But, no. A secret was no longer a secret the moment you told someone. And really, secret or not, he needed to give Fiona due consideration as a suspect, however much he didn't want to. He was pretty sure she had the strength and the motive, but did she have the opportunity? That was more important than whether she'd actually do something like that or not—the police wouldn't, couldn't, go off such things to prove innocence. No, it had to all be down to facts and such.
Would she have met him in the parking lot? And if so, would he have gone anywhere with her?
I don't think he would have. Abe's heart lifted. It needed to be someone he either knew well enough to trust, or perhaps someone official enough that he trusted them. (Hannibal? He might seem official.)
Could Hannibal have been upset enough about the whole thing to decide to do away with Clarence? After all, it had been his idea to invite the man, who had then been brutal to everyone, and Hannibal had a militaristic view of the world. He always couched his battles with aphids in terms of war: campaigns and routs, victories and defeats. He probably watched a lot of WWII documentaries and quoted Winston Churchill. He might feel honor or some such thing needed to be avenged. But he still wouldn't murder someone unless he was off his nut. Being into military history and going all-out on the aphid front wouldn't make him any more likely to kill a person than anyone else in town.
Back to the hotel parking lot. Clarence would have kicked up a fuss if he hadn't wanted to go with someone, wouldn't he? Then the people at the hotel would have noticed. Unless someone had taken him away at gunpoint. But he hadn't been shot, so it was difficult to imagine t
here had been guns involved anywhere in this murder.
After all, why bludgeon someone (and from behind, too) if you had a gun? There would be no need for subterfuge, would there? It might even be less risky. One wouldn't lead him to a populous street, thump him over the head, then drag him into a garden, all the while risking discovery by nosy neighbors, dogs, and so on. No, a gun would have been a simpler sort of murder—and it might not have involved Abe's backyard at all.
Now, wouldn't that be nice, he thought sourly. Of course a man is dead either way, but I really would rather not be a suspect! Or have my zinnias tainted with blood.
He wondered if he was being dramatic. Although the body had been removed, he hadn't had the nerve to go out and check on the flowers to see if any had survived or had blood on them. Perhaps blood was good for zinnias. Gregory would know.
Oh, dear. I must hold myself together!
It had certainly been a shock, but he should be used to all of this by now.
Abe's mind kept going back to the hotel's parking lot. If Clarence had left alone, he'd have taken his car. So, he'd gone with someone. Who, and why? The hotel wasn't within easy walking distance of anywhere particularly, so he must have driven off with someone. It took a special sort of trust to get into someone's car, Abe thought. He couldn't imagine getting into the car with anyone he happened to see, especially at night and when he was heading towards his own car for a trip. It would take a very trusting (or foolish) person to do that. Or else a big draw.
Knowing Clarence, he might choose to go with someone because he wanted to torment them further. It was conceivable that someone had asked him to come and give them advice on their garden—or perhaps more advice—pretending to be in earnest, and Clarence hadn't been able to resist the urge to go and fling his cruel words around a bit more. He'd gotten so much sadistic pleasure out of doing that to the gardeners in public, surely he would put off leaving for just a bit longer if he could do it some more in private.
He really was a terrible person, thought Abe. I wonder if he had any redeeming characteristics? Perhaps he rescued dogs in his spare time, or fed the poor, or helped build orphanages. Or perhaps he was a real piece of work all the way around.
It would be useful to know. One would never guess how sadistic he was from watching his gardening show. He'd seemed so nice, normal, and ordinary—a pleasant man with an easygoing personality and a lot of skill with plants. Well, not quite ordinary: ordinary in a TV handsome sort of way, with those gleaming teeth.
Perhaps he'd overworked his dentist, and the poor fellow had snapped...
Now I'm just being ridiculous.
"Let's see. Here we go," said Gregory absently, clicking something on his laptop.
Abe took his moment of distraction as an opportunity to study Gregory without being observed. He had lines on his face, and he was quite tanned. He was probably about Abe's age, but he worked outside so much that his skin had more wear and tear on it. Still, it was a good look on him: earthy and hard-working, a man of strength who knew his own mind, who cared a great deal about things.
He wouldn't have murdered Clarence, would he? Abe really didn't think he would have. Yes, Gregory might be a bit obsessive about his backyard project, and about saving the earth and all that sort of thing, but he wasn't violently obsessive, and although the insults had clearly hurt him, Clarence hadn't really been a threat to him or hurt him enough that he'd have wanted revenge.
I really don't think any of them are, or would. I certainly hope it's someone I don't know.
It was much less nerve-wracking to think of murderous strangers than murderous neighbors who had planted a body on purpose to incriminate him.
"Hmph," said Gregory. "There's not much here. It's a short paragraph. Doesn't say if he was married, or anything about his personal life at all. Just that he has a gardening show and recently got picked up for two seasons by HGTV." He clicked around some more. "There's just not much online. Oh, here are a couple of blog interviews. Here, you read them, would you? My eyes aren't good with this thing for long, and I don't want to print them out and waste paper."
"Of course." Abe accepted the laptop, feeling as if he'd been entrusted with something special. Wasn't Gregory worried that Abe would check his browsing history?
Maybe he doesn't think I'm a sneaky toad in the hole. And maybe I'd better not be one.
"I'm going to get some coffee. Do you want any?"
"With wine? No, thank you." Abe shuddered.
"Coffee goes with everything," Gregory informed him from the sink area, clunking things on the counter. He didn't seem to worry that Abe might be checking his history.
Oh, dear. Abe really wanted to, now.
He began to skim the interviews, wondering just how nosy he dared be. Mary's hints had made him want to find out if Gregory might be gay after all. But it wouldn't be right. It would be better to bluntly ask and deal with a few moments of awkwardness than the shame of being found out as a snoop—or the shame of knowing he was one, even if Gregory never found out.
He focused on reading. "This one's just a puff piece," said Abe. "He talks about his dog a little, but nothing else except plants and what beginning gardeners should grow. He could have told me some of that, instead of what he did," he couldn't help adding. "And of course talking about his new show and how 'humbled' he was by the offer." He snorted. "That man is—was—not humble in the least. I wonder if he blackmailed someone at the network into giving him the show?"
"It was a pretty good show," said Gregory mildly. "And how would he blackmail someone halfway across the country? He lived here most of his life, remember? The papers said he was going to move across the country, but he hadn't yet."
He moved to Abe's side and leaned near his shoulder. It was distracting to have him so close. Abe was glad he hadn't pulled up his history. He read through the second blog interview, trying to focus.
"This one was earlier," he said at last. "He was much less polished. But he still doesn't talk about his home or anything aside from the show. More like, tune in and see these tips and more. That sort of thing. And something about his little dog again. It's a Pomeranian mix of some sort. They've even included a picture, see?"
He held the laptop up at an angle, and Gregory squinted at the screen. "Huh."
"You'd think he'd have had it on the show at least a few times if he was such a dog person," said Abe. "Perhaps pet-friendly plants? Hm. But, then, I've only watched the show a few times, so maybe he did. Do you know?"
"I don't have time for a lot of TV lately," said Gregory. "So, no clue, really."
"I should ask someone who watched it all the time. Mary, perhaps?"
"Yeah, she'd probably know," agreed Gregory.
"I'll go and talk to her today," said Abe. "I've been meaning to ask her about how to start an herb garden, anyway. I'll just steer the conversation around to Clarence's dog after a bit."
Gregory gave him an interested and rather fond look. "You're planning to grow herbs?"
Abe shrugged, feeling suddenly awkward. "I always love the look of Mary's garden, and really, as much as I cook? It would be good to have some fresh herbs. If I can keep them alive." He glanced out the window. "I'm not sure if I can feel the same way about zinnias, after—everything."
"No," agreed Gregory softly. "Of course not."
He was watching Abe now, and Abe felt quite shy. He cleared his throat and stood up, closing the laptop, and handed it back rather formally. "Here you go. I should be off. Thank you for the wine! And the research help."
"You're welcome, Poirot," said Gregory.
Abe gave a little start, which he nearly managed to cover. Mary hadn't been hinting at him, had she? He looked at Gregory quickly out of the corner of his eye, trying to see if the man was mocking him, laughing at him, but, no, it was just Gregory's usual teasing expression, the one that worked so well with his rugged good looks.
"I'm sure I could call you something quite savage, if only I could think of a det
ective who always wore outdated tweed."
"I'm sure you could," said Gregory. "See you this evening? For supper?" His eyes gleamed.
"You only love me for my cooking," said Abe with a wink. "Of course. Bring something good. I'll raid the cabinets and the cobwebby corners of my mind for inspiration! Toodle-oo!"
He waved airily and headed back to his place, on a mission. Of course he usually toned it down around people he didn't know particularly well, but really, if they were going to be long-term neighbors, Gregory was simply going to have to get used to the fact that Abe was, in fact, quite gay. And not particularly butch.
He was in a good mood as he dressed to go to see Mary. She might offer him lemon cake. He was glad to have a good reason to go over there, rather than inquiring about Fiona or something of the sort. He wasn't sure whether Clarence's dog would actually matter in the grand scheme of things, but knowing a bit more about the man, when he knew so little just now, could only help. And really, it wouldn't be more than a half-hour or so out of his day. Mary lived close enough for him to walk to her place easily, and she wasn't the sort to try to corral him into an all-day conversation he couldn't escape.
ABE PUT ON HIS LAVENDER trousers and a cream-colored button-down and, with a spring in his step, headed off to see Mary. It was nice to have something to do. He wondered if that was part of why he wanted to investigate: it gave him back some sense of control over things, after finding a dead body in his backyard. It was a distraction as well.
It didn't take long to reach Mary's, and she answered the door right away. She looked a bit tired and frail to him, and he gave her a particularly gentle smile. "Hello, Mary. I was hoping to pick your brain about herb gardens."
She brightened visibly. "Oh. Well, you'd best come in, then. I have some cake, if you'd like, although I'm afraid it's two days old. I just haven't felt up to baking, with all this excitement."
"That sounds lovely." His mouth watered. Mary's cake was always excellent. He wondered if it would be lemon this time, or something else.
The Body in the Backyard Page 6
