"Well, if they didn't do it, we'll still have enemies for life," observed Abe, sipping at his wine and feeling unaccountably guilty.
"You really think there's a chance they didn't? I refuse to feel bad for them. Not only did they murder a man in cold blood, they tried to blame us, and then Winnie—and they nearly killed her, too."
Abe sighed. "I suppose if they're convicted, they'll have to sell the house? Our next neighbors couldn't possibly be any worse."
Gregory smiled. "Let's hope not."
On the papers the next day, there were big, splashy headlines about the murderous suburban couple who had confessed to killing a noted gardening expert. The headlines ranged from THE GARDENING MURDERERS to Murder Pact Duo Kill Over Flowers! and GRUESOME GARDENERS to Marriage Murder: Husband and Wife Kill Together! (There were a few comments about the couple that murdered together staying together, too.)
"Good lord," said Gregory when he saw them. "What a waste of trees."
Abe had brought the papers over right away, before making breakfast or coffee or anything. They had very properly gone to their separate houses after supper, but Abe had found himself wishing he'd asked Gregory to stay, rather than saying he wanted to take things slowly.
Still, this morning there were no regrets, at least. Eventually, if Gregory kept being interested in him, he'd stop expecting the worst. Eventually.
"Apparently, they confessed right away," said Abe, flipping through the first, least offensively headlined paper. "The police found evidence in their garage, which they're not sharing details of, and when questioned, they just rolled over and confessed. After all that!"
He realized he was a bit disappointed. In all the murder mysteries he'd ever read or watched, the detectives got to hear what happened from the murderers. But then, it was often at gunpoint or something of the sort, and he didn't relish that part. And he wasn't entirely sure that if this had been a story, he'd be the hero. He'd be the annoying, nosy gay neighbor who was not terribly brave or strong, had a cliché crush, and probably died in the second act.
"Was it really about the roses?" Gregory fumbled with another paper before spreading it out completely on the table and scanning here and there for information, trying to find out as quickly as possible.
"Well, that's what this says. I'm sure I don't know." Abe was still thinking about whether he'd be a hero or just the butt of a joke in a mystery.
"Well, if they all say it was about roses, they got it from somewhere."
"Yes, but perhaps it was from someone in the garden club, and let's face it..." His voice trailed off as he read. Sure enough, the papers proclaimed that, in a rage over the critique of their roses, Lorraine and Larry had decided to kill the gardening celebrity. He had once been their neighbor, and there was apparently some sort of bad blood between them.
"That doesn't explain whether Lorraine and Clarence were having an affair or not, though," said Abe.
"Does it really matter? They were friendly once and had a falling-out. Lorraine and Larry stayed together, so obviously they worked out any issues they had, at least enough for that."
"Do you think anything in the note was true—for Lorraine, instead of Winnie?" Abe stared at Gregory, wide-eyed. "I mean, about cheating and beatings and all of that."
"I know they squabble, but I don't think there's violence in their relationship. They've stayed together a long time, and they present a united front. I mean..." Gregory sighed. "I suppose you never know, do you?"
"No," said Abe in a suffocated little voice.
Gregory looked at him quickly, with one slow, surprised blink. Fortunately, he didn't say anything. "Anyway, I think she just invented all of that to make it more complicated for the police to investigate all of Winnie's supposed crimes and motives."
"We should visit her in the hospital, if they'll let us," said Abe quickly, hoping not to touch on that subject again. "To see how she's doing, and let her know that she still has friends."
"We'll bring her flowers," agreed Gregory, nodding once. "But not zinnias."
"No." Abe covered his face, not sure if he was going to laugh or cry. "Not zinnias! Never again zinnias."
"Here, now. It's all over. Why get upset now?" Gregory's arms were strong and gentle. He made Abe feel safe in a way he hadn't for a very long time.
"I don't know. Now that it's over, I'm a complete mess. They never show that part in Midsomer, do they? The aftermath. Or maybe most people wouldn't be trembling wrecks at this point."
Gregory tsked in disapproval and kept his arms where they were, holding Abe close. "I think a murder in the neighborhood, and being so closely involved, would probably take a toll on anyone."
Abe wasn't sure. He thought some people were probably perfectly reasonable about all of it, but he was glad to be in Gregory's arms, letting the world fade away.
"OH," SAID WINNIE, EYEING the bouquet. "Flowers. How...thoughtful." She looked exhausted and pale and almost romantically ill, lying in her hospital bed. She could be the heroine in a soap opera, she looked so slim and brave.
She was gazing uncertainly at the flowers, though. Gregory had insisted they pick wildflowers and not support "the global flower industry that wastes fossil fuels." He'd been quite proud of what they'd managed, just from an overgrown meadow they'd stopped at on the ride over. Abe thought uneasily that they looked like exactly what they were: weeds.
Beside Winnie, Rick was sitting on a chair, staring at her in an adoring, protective way. He'd been holding her hand when they entered and hadn't let it drop yet. Neither of them seemed the least bit shy about it.
"I'm sure I'll never accept anyone's baked goods again." She looked ill at the thought.
That was how she'd been poisoned: a couple of brownies laced with far too many prescription drugs. At the time, she'd thought Lorraine was just being neighborly. They'd chatted about the murder and caught up on local gossip. All the while, Lorraine had been trying to kill Winnie and make it look like suicide.
"She must have seen what pills I take the last time she visited. I've never really hidden it. I suppose they're pretty common, really, but I'm not sure exactly how she got hold of enough for...that."
"No doubt the police will find out eventually," said Abe.
She might have managed to get some prescribed to herself, for instance, if she'd been planning this ahead. It wouldn't have been difficult for her to find out online which could kill in an overdose.
After a few minutes discussing the situation and her health, Winnie wanted to know more about the murder. "Are the papers saying why the Lockwoods did it? I know Lorraine never liked me all that much. I didn't expect this, though. I know very well she and Clarence used to be quite close. What changed? It wasn't just time and distance. I know he wasn't nice about her flowers, but that's hardly worth killing over, is it?"
"Maybe if you're them, it is. I'm not sure we'll ever know," said Gregory.
Winnie looked extremely dissatisfied with that answer, and Abe felt much the same. Still, it was good to have the murderers behind bars, the police safely handling lots of forensic evidence and confessions, and no more scary notes or planted evidence to deal with. All they really had to do was read the papers and try not to cringe at inappropriate headlines.
That was what they did over the next few days. After Winnie was released from the hospital, Abe and several other neighbors took turns visiting to check on her. Rick, according to local gossip, stayed over more often than not, but it was generally agreed that it was good she had someone there to look after her.
It probably made her feel a lot safer to have him there, as well. Abe imagined that, after nearly being killed with an overdose, she probably wasn't in a hurry to take more anxiety medication, even if she needed it. It wasn't something she wanted to talk about, though, and he respected her privacy enough not to pry.
Abe and Gregory spent a lot of time together, and, without having to announce anything to the neighborhood, it was generally agreed that they were seei
ng one another in a romantic way, not just as neighbors or detective wannabes.
It was still rather difficult to think that someone as handsome and passionate as Gregory wanted to date Abe. Abe still saw himself as faded and pitiful most of the time. Except for sometimes, when he got a brief glimpse of how Gregory viewed him: clever and elegant and good-looking, an excellent cook, funny and kindhearted... It always made him stand a little taller to feel there were good things about him and not just flaws and weaknesses.
And there were weaknesses. He had a freak-out every day or so, feeling like he wasn't worth it, feeling like things were going too quickly (or too slowly), remembering old things from being with Lenard, and how they had made him feel like he was disappearing, sinking into the house and becoming nothing at all of his own.
Needless to say, they would not be moving in together right away, as Mary and Fiona were already planning. Whenever he saw one or both of them around town (usually both), Abe thought he'd never seen either of them looking happier or heartier. Fiona's heart might have been on her sleeve about Mary, but apparently Mary had been pining just as much in her own way, doing a better job of hiding it, and with a few more hang-ups as well. Abe thought it was romantic, the two of them finding love at their age. He also liked it that they still called him a "young man."
The gardening club skipped one meeting, but everyone was there the next time the community center's doors opened for it—even the newest member, Gregory. He sat very close to Abe, as he'd done the first time. This time, Abe was rather proud, pleased to show him off.
It was difficult for Hannibal to keep the subject on gardening—strictly gardening, no murders at all—but he managed it somehow, that general in the war against aphids.
After the meeting, Gregory stayed late to talk strategy with him, which made Abe groan inwardly, then secretly feel proud when he found out it was a long lead-in to actually using less poison and planting complementary things that would work together to defeat the pests.
"Reinforcements, if you will," said Gregory. "Or reserves."
"The underground resistance," said Hannibal, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
"Yes. Exactly."
It was a marvelously tactful and illuminating conversation. Gregory used to be in sales—and an excellent salesman, too. He'd often been the top salesman at whatever job he took, including some pretty high-powered, well-paid jobs.
"I couldn't live with myself after a while," he explained. "I was part of the problem, and I wanted to be part of the solution. We don't need to spend more, buy more, make more. We need to make better use of things and work with the earth. It's trying to take care of us, of everything." He had strong views on the subject, and Abe was willing to listen to them.
His feelings about the state of the world, and his increasing misery with staying in the closet as bi, had made him choose some drastic changes in his life, and lost him almost all of his friends. He'd quit his job, downsized everything in his life, found a place that couldn't stop him from implementing his permaculture goals and plunked down a down payment on it. Nowadays, he worked construction—but just enough to cover his mortgage and a few essentials, leaving him more time to focus on his projects.
And what a daunting number of them there were. It might look like mostly dirt and sticks, but when he explained some of what he had planned, it all sounded very long-term and intensive.
"When it's all set up, it won't take nearly as much work. It will mostly be taking care of me, instead of the opposite." Then he looked at Abe affectionately. "Well. Us, I hope."
They were already getting some things from his early efforts, mostly a variety of greens and tomatoes, as well as a few squash. It was hardly enough to replace buying groceries, though.
Even if it never became more than an expensive hobby, Abe was proud of him for trying so hard, caring so much—and having such earnest, honest goals. Gregory was a good man, and Abe had almost missed that by being annoyed at the messiness of his neighbor.
In contrast, the Lockwoods had been perfectly respectable neighbors, but they'd hated him for being gay, and ended up killing a man for still somewhat sketchy reasons.
Though Gregory teased Abe about digging up his yard and planting "useful things" instead (the suggestions ranged wildly), he did not actually pressure or guilt Abe into changing his life or lifestyle. He was perfectly content for Abe not to change a thing, as long as Abe was willing to put up with a few rants about the modern world's environmental excesses and not ask him to change his compost-scavenging lifestyle.
As Abe was more taken with the man all the time, and generally found his eccentric sides charming, this was not a problem. He was a little bit embarrassed when Gregory insisted on staying late at the farmer's market and chatting up some of the stand owners for possible compost supplies, but he got over it—especially once he fell into conversation with Janice and could discuss the murder to his heart's content.
It still took up a lot of his head space, although he kept trying to set it aside and put a cap on thinking about it. But he couldn't, not really. It had happened right where he lived, and there wasn't any getting away from that. Winnie's recovery was one blessing from the whole ordeal, and meeting Gregory was another, but it was difficult to see the suburbs in quite the same way now. If he hadn't been seeing Gregory, he expected he'd be considering moving back to the city, where at least he understood more of the dangers.
"I still can't understand why they killed him," he told Janice. "It's so...unnerving not to really know. They seemed ordinary, didn't they? I mean, not particularly pleasant—I know they didn't like me—but not like murderers. I'm sure it will all come out at the trial—the motives, all of that—but that could be ages away!"
"Yes," said Janice. "These things usually take time. Are you sure they were ordinary? I never got the impression they liked anyone, although I'm not a close neighbor like you are."
Abe shuddered dramatically. "Don't remind me!"
"The house is already on the market," said Janice, leaning closer, her eyes shining with a bit of gossip to share. "I wonder if anyone will actually buy it, though?"
It was a question that would require waiting and seeing. Surely, some brave soul wouldn't be put out to buy a house from murderers. Abe shuddered at the thought. But then, he had Clarence's old house, which surely had some bad vibes in it somewhere, if such a thing existed—not to mention the memories of a dead body in the zinnias.
Now long gone, the flowerbed was once again turf. He'd planted the herb garden, with Mary's instructions and Gregory's help, closer to the kitchen, so he only needed to take a few steps outdoors to pick whatever he wanted. So far, most of the herbs were surviving. He was not at all confident that that would continue, especially when he spotted an aphid.
Gregory waved a hand in dismissal when he was told. "We'll plant some garlic close by, or get some ladybugs. Don't worry about it!"
And Abe didn't.
BECAUSE HE CONTRIBUTED regularly to a local charity for gay youth, one that worked to combat homelessness and prevent suicide, Abe was given two tickets to a charity dinner that was meant to raise awareness for the work. And, it was strongly implied, another donation really wouldn't hurt. Abe begged and cajoled Gregory until he agreed to go with him, and then convinced him to let Abe pick out a new suit for him.
Aside from a few remarks about the wastefulness of it, Gregory cooperated.
He was quite handsome in his new suit, too, and even across the room at the charity dinner/mixer/fundraiser, Abe couldn't help stopping to stare and admire the man who now shared his life and not just a fence.
"He certainly cleans up well," observed Oliver, easing up next to Abe. "Your 'neighbor.'"
Abe blushed. "He's more than that, now."
"I thought he might be." Ollie smiled gently. "Good for you. I know you need commitment in your life." He looked sad for only a moment, and then it was quickly gone. "You know, I very deliberately didn't go after him, beca
use I figured out you wanted him. I should get credit for that."
"You should get credit for everything," said Abe simply. He eyed Ollie, wondering if he dared ask about the film. He didn't want to bring Ollie's mood lower if it was a touchy subject right now. That seemed to go through stages: something he wanted to talk about all the time, to something he never wanted to even think about. It was clearly a complicated issue for him, in more than just the technical sense.
"Anyone new for you?" Abe settled on.
"Oh, well." Oliver's little laugh revealed his cute dimples, making him look younger. "Nothing serious, of course, but—yes. You see that man over there? He's a police detective, you know. I think he worked on your case."
Abe gave a little start as he recognized Jeffries, now looking not nearly so tired.
"He's a community liaison of sorts as well," continued Ollie. "That's how I met him. We were asking for more resources to help the LGBT youth, and they palmed us off on him. And, well, he's quite nice, really."
Jeffries looked more relaxed and rested just now, laughing at something a man with bright red hair was saying. He seemed at ease here, as well.
"I'm really surprised," said Abe. "I'd never have guessed."
"Your gaydar needs adjusted, that's all," said Ollie, sounding smug. "But you worked it out with your Gregory, so you can't be doing too poorly."
"He had to practically throw himself at me," admitted Abe, then he laughed. "It was lovely."
"Good lord, he's not talking about compost with the mayor's daughter, is he?"
The elegant-looking young woman in a white dress was listening, nodding once or twice, but she seemed faintly concerned with the direction of the conversation.
"Probably," said Abe. "Excuse me. I'd better intervene."
He slipped up next to Gregory and put an arm through his. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt. Dear, come and talk to someone with me, will you?"
The Body in the Backyard Page 15
