by Krista Davis
I braced myself, but before I could come up with a defensive response that didn’t sound juvenile, Professor Maxwell winked at me. “Keep up the good work, Florrie.”
He ambled up the stairs.
Olivia shook her head. “If I hadn’t seen that myself, I wouldn’t have believed it. What a dolt. Maisie has no idea how lucky she is that she didn’t marry Percy. He’s a con artist but not smart enough to be a good one.”
Veronica marched up to me and handed me her phone. “It’s Mom.” She walked away but only a few steps. She clearly meant to hear the conversation.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Veronica says your phone is broken. Honey, I want you to get another one right away. I don’t like not being able to reach you.”
“I plan to, Mom. As soon as I get off work.”
“Florrie, sweetheart—” I tried not to groan aloud. When she started a sentence that way, it could only be something she thought I would not want to hear. I took a very deep breath.
“—there’s a concert in the park under the stars tomorrow night. I thought I would bring a late picnic dinner. I’m making the fried chicken you like so much! Anyway, I called your Sergeant Jonquille to see if he could come and he’s available. Would you mind baking something for dessert?”
“Why did you call Eric first? What if I had broken up with him?”
Mom gasped. “You didn’t! Oh, you’re teasing me, Florrie. He would have said so if that had been the case.”
“You do see the problem, don’t you?” I asked.
“Is your sister there?”
“Four feet away from me.”
“Pretend like I’m telling you a recipe. Two cups of rice. Veronica is bringing someone she likes. Your father and I are so worried about her. She says you don’t like this fellow. What’s wrong with him? Three cups of water.”
“Is she pretending to give you recipe ingredients?” Veronica grabbed the phone from me. “Mom, I know that trick. You’ll meet him and like him tomorrow night. And I expect everyone to be on their best behavior. Especially Florrie.”
Veronica hung up the phone. “Please be nice to him, Florrie.”
“Who is this guy? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
“You’ll meet him tomorrow night. If you love me, you’ll be welcoming.”
Oh swell. My eyes met Olivia’s.
“You two sound just like Priss and me.”
“Do I always criticize the guys you date?” I was immediately sorry I had asked.
Veronica’s mouth fell open, and she gazed at me with an incredulous look.
“Okay. I get what you’re saying. I promise, no matter who you bring, I will do my very best to be accepting. After all, you’re the one dating him, not me.”
“Thank you, Florrie.” She waltzed off, smiling.
Now that I had to bake something for the next evening, I was relieved that Bob and Veronica were scheduled to cover the store that evening. Despite the fact that I had spent hours away during the day, I bailed out as soon as I could, with Peaches on her leash. My first stop was the phone store, where they informed me that they weren’t sure they could transfer information from my old phone to a new one. It all depended on how extensive the damage was. I left it with them and hoped for the best.
When I was leaving, I heard someone call my name. Maisie sat at an outdoor table at the restaurant next door. I strolled over with Peaches.
“What a beautiful cat! And look how smart she is walking on a leash.” Maisie picked up Peaches and cuddled her. “I miss my kitties so much.”
She pointed to the other chair at the table. “Please join me. I hate eating alone. Besides, I owe you an apology.”
I sat down while she continued to stroke Peaches.
“I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I’ve been inexcusably rude. I know I complain a lot about Mom, but if there’s one thing she taught me it was manners, and I’ve been just awful. I hope you understand. First she was dead, then it turns out she was murdered, and then there was a skeleton in the wall. It seemed like every few hours there was another horrible development. It was all overwhelming.”
Her phone rang and she glanced at it. “Ugh. I was stressed out even before Mom died. Last month I was driving at night when a deer jumped out of the woods and collided with my car. The deer leaped away as though nothing had happened, but the car was demolished. The trouble was that I still owed money on the lease, and I had to buy a new car. Insurance covered some of it, but not enough. Collection people have been hounding me. Phone calls day and night. They just don’t understand that I can’t pay the lease if I don’t have a car to get to work. It’s been a nightmare. And then on top of it all, Mom died. I’ve been at a breaking point for a while and, well, I’m sorry if I snapped at you. It wasn’t anything personal.”
“You look tired.”
“I am. I can’t sleep. I wasn’t close to Mom for a long time, so I don’t know what mischief she may have been entangled in. The police are convinced that it’s that Zsazsa woman who murdered her.” Maisie slugged back what appeared to be a daiquiri. “They tell me they found her lipstick in Mom’s apartment under the coffee table.”
“The cream-colored table?”
“That’s the one. I guess that links her to Mom that night.”
“They went out together for a late tea. Maybe she dropped it when they got back.”
“Maybe that was when she murdered Mom. I’m with Olivia and Priss on this. There are a surprising number of people looking for that coloring book. I bet Zsazsa has it. The police are getting a warrant to search her apartment.”
She ran a hand over her face. “Olivia and Priss—I feel so guilty. I had to give them their notice so I can sell the house. I don’t know what they’re going to do.”
She set Peaches on the sidewalk to sniff around. “The remorse is overwhelming. They’re really the only family I have left and here I am kicking them out.”
“You’re related to Olivia and Priss?”
“Not biologically. They were always there when I was a kid. Babysitting me, taking me to the movies with them, making popcorn, and watching the stars at night in the park. They were very good to me. Just like aunts. I remember going to them with my problems instead of to my mom. Sometimes it’s easier to talk with someone else.”
“I don’t mean to abandon you, but I need to get going. I’m having some issues with my own mom.”
Maisie was pretty and looked like Dolly when she smiled. “It’s universal, isn’t it?”
I collected Peaches and hurried along the sidewalk toward the carriage house.
“Florrie! Florrie!”
I paused, still holding Peaches.
Edgar loped toward me. “I never thanked you for coming to my rescue today. There’s no telling what might have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”
“I’m glad I could help you. And I’m terribly sorry about your sister.”
“Sergeant Jonquille talked me into supplying some DNA.” Edgar bit his upper lip and blinked hard. “He’s worried that my dad might be the guy in Dolly’s wall.”
“Why don’t you walk with me?” I suggested. “Let’s hope that’s not him. At least you’ll know for sure.”
“So why did you tell the flea market vendor we were married?”
I was on the spot. “Why did you ask him about The Florist?”
“I wanted to know what it was worth. Everyone was talking about it. I had shown him the photo of my dad. He’s about the same age, so I hoped he might know him. He didn’t. No one does.”
“Edgar, with all respect for your aunt, maybe you should put that picture on Facebook and ask people to share it. If it wasn’t your dad in Dolly’s attic, he could be anywhere. He could have moved to California or Alaska.”
“But what if he sees it and goes into hiding?”
“If it were me, I think that might be a chance I would take. Isn’t it just as likely that he would contact you?”
�
�Maybe you’re right. I’ll think about it. I don’t know what else to do.”
Poor fellow. I gazed up at him. “My family is going to the park tonight for a starlight concert. Would you like to come along?”
“Sure! That sounds really nice. I’ve been kind of lonely since Dolly died. Should I bring something?”
“Not a thing. We’ll have enough food to feed a football team.” I gave him the time and told him how to find the carriage house.
I walked home, hoping I hadn’t invited a killer to a family event.
Chapter 24
I spent the next few hours baking. The chewy salted double chocolate brownies were first. I watched the mixer beat the eggs with the sugar until they became creamy and thick. There was something about the ordinariness of sprinkling flaked salt on the brownies that I found comforting. No skeletons, no antifreeze, no beloved friends dying. I popped them into the oven to bake, watching the time carefully. I didn’t want them to lose the satisfying chewiness.
When they rested on a baking rack on the kitchen counter, I started cupcakes. I had a package of sweetened shredded coconut that had to be used and my family loved coconut cupcakes. I cut back on the sugar in the batter just a little bit because the cream cheese buttercream frosting would be super sweet.
Methodically, I spooned the batter into the cupcake liners, making sure they were three-quarters full. When they were in the oven, Peaches and I ventured out into our garden. It was a lovely summer evening, the kind when the warm air feels like an embrace.
I drew a sketch of Edgar, wondering what his sister looked like. He resembled the man in the picture, but I wouldn’t have known they were related if he hadn’t said so. Maybe it was the old-fashioned yet newly popular glasses he wore that made him look different. Or maybe he looked more like his mom. I drew the glasses with the dark tops and the clear bottoms. They were a style that made a person look serious. Favored by nerdy types, it seemed.
My thoughts turned to Zsazsa. I wondered what other evidence the police might have found in Dolly’s apartment. Lipstick could have fallen on the floor any time. Even I could defend that and I wasn’t a lawyer.
Zsazsa and Goldblum had hit on something important. I doodled a glass as I thought. Whoever had murdered Dolly had either made a drink in Dolly’s apartment, or brought her a drink. The police were focused on orange juice, so I had to believe they had found remains of it in her stomach. I switched to a tangerine coloring pencil and filled the glass. I doodled a straw and a wedge of lemon as a garnish.
I planned to take a cooling thermos to the starlight concert the next night. That would be an easy way to transport a deadly drink. It would be even easier for someone who lived close by. Edgar, Olivia, Priss, or even Dolly’s gardening neighbor might have made drinks and brought them over on a tray. Of course, one would have to be careful that Dolly got the toxic drink.
I hoped Zsazsa didn’t have a cooling thermos. She probably did. So many people took water everywhere with them that they were very common. No one would think a thing about it.
The other point that stuck in my mind was that it must have been someone Dolly knew well. She had opened the door to that person. Unfortunately, it didn’t eliminate many people.
The timer went off in the kitchen. I hurried to rescue my cupcakes. I slid them out of the oven and placed them individually on baking racks. When they cooled, I would frost them.
Satisfied that the bulk of the baking had been done, I returned to the garden where Peaches stalked a mouse.
Poor mousie. It was a good thing Peaches was well-fed. Her instincts forced her to focus on it. I hoped she wouldn’t catch it.
For fun, I opted for an electric violet pencil and drew a little mouse peeking out of a hole. I hoped the real mouse had a hiding place to scamper to.
It was the calmest night I’d had in days. Even as the sun set, I stayed outside and drew, but as I checked the pages of my sketchbook, I found I had more faces than I did garden vignettes for the coloring book.
I was very glad I had swapped days with Helen. In the morning, I would go to Dumbarton Oaks for inspiration and try to get back on track.
* * *
I rose feeling fresh and eager to get going. I should have waited until the phone store opened to check on my telephone, but I decided it was better to do without it. I would go to Dumbarton Oaks, spend the morning sketching without interruptions from my mother, and then check on the phone.
I spooned Crabby Cat Crabmeat into a bowl for Peaches. She ate with gusto. I assumed it was tastier than mouse.
When she was through, she sat in a sunbeam and carefully washed her whiskers.
I made myself an insulated stainless steel water bottle full of hot tea with just the right amount of sugar, sealed it, grabbed my sketchbook, and said goodbye to Peaches.
She didn’t seem to care. It was naptime now that her tummy was full of Crabby Cat.
Dumbarton Oaks was a historic estate, now open to the public. The sprawling gardens were still carefully tended. I opted for the fountain terrace and settled on the grass.
An iron gate hung open as though welcoming visitors. Stone pillars and fences enclosed the area. Overflowing summer blooms lined the enclosure. And in the middle of a manicured lawn were two pools, each with a small child in the center holding a fish from which water spouted.
There were inspiring views everywhere I looked. I focused on the magnificent fountains and sketched, wondering if the artist of The Florist had done something similar in his quest to draw precise images of flowers.
I focused on my work, oblivious to the other visitors who came and went, until someone sat on the grass beside me.
“I hope you don’t mind if I join you?”
I looked to my right. “Mike, right?” It was the man who had left a drawing of me in my sketchbook. The truth was that I did mind, but what could I do? If he talked too much, I would make an excuse and find another spot. “That drawing of me was great.”
“It’s been a long time. I’m quite rusty. This is a magnificent place. Imagine what it must have been like to live here.”
“Like royalty,” I said. “But think about the cost of upkeep.”
“No kidding. I’m sure they didn’t mow their own lawns.” He smiled at me.
“Are you visiting every park and garden in the city?” I asked.
“I lived here for years without ever knowing about this place. No, I am here to enjoy the beauty and wonder of life.”
I looked over at him again.
“Like that hummingbird. I’m told they are a healing symbol. They’re supposed to help us endure and see the positive when we are troubled.”
“I should incorporate one in my coloring book. We all need that!”
I flipped the page and doodled a hummingbird.
“Are you troubled?” he asked.
“A dear friend was murdered and I think they have the wrong suspect. But I’m not making much progress in figuring out who really murdered her.”
“That would be a woman named Dolly?”
“How did you know?”
“I read the newspapers. The skeleton in her attic ensured a lot of publicity about her death. I, too, am looking for someone.”
“A long-lost girlfriend?” I teased.
Fortunately, he smiled. “I’m looking for a man who”—he held up his hand and snapped his fingers—“disappeared into the mist of humanity.” His mouth twitched from side to side. “He stole some very valuable items and vanished. But, you see, I intend to find him. While there are many faraway places on this planet and many places to hide, he will not escape me. Not even if it’s the final thing I do in my time on this earth.”
“You’re scaring me a little bit. You don’t intend to harm him?”
“Ah, that’s where the concept of forgiveness comes in. I could say bygones can never be recaptured and let it go. But he took over twenty years of my life. I am sorry to say, that I don’t think I can simply wash that away. It clings to
me like a coffee stain on a crisp white shirt.”
I was almost afraid to ask exactly what he meant. “How could anyone take years of your life?”
“I went to prison for a crime he committed. For twenty-seven years I was incarcerated and could not live my life. Meanwhile, the real criminal was never arrested. Each day he was able to sit in the sun, to hold the hand of a loved one, to lick an ice cream cone, and hear the melodious laughter of children.”
Why hadn’t I stayed home and sketched in my tranquil garden with Peaches prowling around the koi pond?
“You needn’t look so distressed. The point is that I did not commit a crime. But now everyone thinks I did. I paid the price for someone else’s crime. And it was a very dear price. Now I bear the grand title of felon. Most undeservedly. There are no jobs available to me. Who wants to hire a felon? I wouldn’t.”
“But if you find this man you can prove that you were not the thief.”
He cocked his head. “Maybe. Twenty-seven years is a long time. There’s no telling what he did with the items he stole. As far as I know, they never turned up again. Either he still has them or he sold them on the black market. If so, the current owner spent many years with the knowledge that I was not the one who stole them, and he allowed me to rot in prison rather than give up his precious acquisitions.”
“Does this have anything to do with Orso?”
His eyebrows lifted. “You know Orso?”
I smiled at him and shrugged. “I read the newspapers.”
Mike bellowed. His hearty laugh rumbled through the garden. “It’s too bad I never had children. I would have enjoyed a daughter like you.”
He got to his feet. “I hope we meet again, my dear Florrie.”
While his face was fresh in my mind, I tried drawing it. Like Professor Maxwell, his face was a roadmap of wrinkles. I would have to study him to get them right. He had the standard horizontal worry lines across his forehead like Nolan. And the equivalent of a quotation mark between his eyebrows. His lips were so thin that his mouth was little more than a slit. I added a longer tip to his nose. It was prominent but attractive. It suited his face, but there was no pug nose on that man.
