Give Me Chills

by Tara Lush

  I'd already snarfed down one pint of ice cream I had in the insulated bag and drank the only bottle of water I had in the van. I pondered whether I should start in on the other pint, chocolate chip with mint, but my stomach churned from all the sugar.

  Groaning, I opened the driver's side door for more air and swung my legs around to the open door. I'd only been able to coast into the parking lot but hadn't made it to the shade of a massive oak tree on the side. So the van, and I, were in the full noonday Florida sun.

  I glanced at my phone, wondering if I should call Zander. If I did, I'd have to explain why I was all the way out here — it was nowhere close to where I lived or my usual ice cream spot by the beach. I could pretend I'd been on my way to the mall on the mainland, although I didn't know the area well enough to be certain there was even a mall nearby. Zander would probably ask why I hadn't taken my scooter.

  I was a terrible liar and couldn't risk flubbing my story.

  Truthfully, I wasn't sure if I should tell Zander about how I poked around Lillian's shop. On one hand, he seemed eager to investigate, and we'd gone into his aunt's house without permission.

  On the other hand, it was his relative, and he had all the rights in the world to be curious about her death. Me? I lied my way into a random woman's floral store because I had a thing for true crime. No, I wouldn't tell Zander about my little excursion. What was there to say? I'd found no clues.

  I fiddled with my phone and swiped to the photos I'd taken in Kabloom. As I sat and perspired, I studied them, pinching and zooming with my fingers. But what was I looking for? I didn't even know. I read the words on the purchase order and my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

  Five hundred blue hydrangeas for nine dollars and forty cents each? That was… a lot. Yikes. Probably a wedding. I imagined some excited bride with an unlimited budget walking into her reception filled with bursting blue flowers.

  I slumped back into the seat and closed my eyes. There was a time when I'd wanted to be that bride with Connor. We'd even talked about the venue, the iconic Skyline Inn in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

  Sure did dodge a bullet with him.

  I rubbed my stomach, which had turned sour. To take my mind off Connor and his sickening betrayal back home, I went over the clues in Linda's death instead.

  Zander said there were nine people, including him, at the dinner party the night before she died. I'd ruled six of them out: Joan and Harry Corbett, Kelvin and Amy Shafer, Cynthia Castell and José Maldonado.

  There were two others: Lillian the florist, and a ninth guest. Who was that ninth person?

  Maybe I should text Zander and ask. I opened an eye and glanced at my phone. No, better not text. I didn't have much battery and might have to call the stupid tow truck driver again.

  I dozed off in the sticky, humid heat, only to be woken by the raspy holler of the tow truck driver.

  "Hey! You okay?"

  I blinked my eyes open and tried to wave. My head felt like someone was splitting my forehead open with an ax.

  As I stepped out of my van, I stumbled, then threw up all over the cracked asphalt.

  Twelve

  The next morning, I moved around my apartment as if I were coming out of a deep dream state. A shower helped clear the fog from my brain, and brushing the fuzz from my teeth made me feel something close to human. Still, I was a bit groggy and felt like returning to bed.

  I downed two glasses of water and waited for my coffee to cool.

  I flicked on my phone. Somewhere between barfing and going to the auto repair shop (where I slumped against a cool wall for an hour), my phone had died. By the time I got home, I had only enough energy to plug my cell into the charger and fall into bed.

  The phone flashed with several messages, all from Zander. My stomach tightened with concern when I realized that he'd been trying to reach me all night. I sipped the hot, black liquid while reading.

  Hadley?

  You okay?

  What's wrong? Did I offend you?

  I went to your house and knocked on your door but you didn't answer. I'm worried about you. Please call immediately.

  Crap. Disregard that. I'm not trying to be forceful. If you're not interested in talking with me or seeing me anymore, I'll respect that.

  I choked down a mouthful of coffee and dialed Zander, skipping the frustration and potential confusion of texting. Sometimes words on a screen couldn't convey what I was trying to get across, and I wanted there to be no question of what I was about to tell Zander.

  He answered on the second ring. "Hadley?" His voice was hesitant, yet hopeful.

  "Hey. I am so sorry. My van broke down while I was out yesterday. And it doesn't have AC so I sat in the heat and I guess I'm not used to the humidity yet. I got heatstroke something fierce, and it didn't help that all I'd eaten was a pint of butter pecan. It was like a comedy of errors. First my van, then my phone, died. By the time I got home all I wanted was to pass out in bed, and that's what I did."

  There was a pause. "You could've called me. I would have left work to help you."

  Aww. He really is a sweetheart. Now I felt even worse about inadvertently ignoring his messages. I chewed on my lip, thinking about whether I should tell him about Kabloom. "I didn't want to bug you since you were busy at work."

  "I'm never too busy for you. I was worried." He cleared his throat and lowered his tone. "I'm just glad you’re okay. How are you feeling now?"

  "Much better. I underestimated the heat. It zapped all the energy out of me. All that sugar probably didn't help, either. What are you up to today? Oh, it's Monday. You're probably headed to work. What time is it?"

  I looked at the clock and laughed nervously, remembering that Zander had a real job that required conference calls and emails and probably checking in remotely with a boss by nine in the morning, whereas my plans involved donning a t-shirt, shorts, and an apron and scooping ice cream as the sun set at the beach.

  "I'm at the lawyer's office, waiting for things to start."

  "The lawyer? Huh?" I rubbed my eyes. "Where? Why?"

  "My aunt's will. The reading is today.” He mentioned a lawyer’s name. “His office is next to city hall."

  "Oh! Oh. Wow." I let that sink in. "I'm… sorry that you have to be there."

  "Yeah, it's a little weird. Hang on, let me walk out of the reception area so I can talk." I heard a shuffling and the snick of a door latch. "Hey. I'm out in the hall. It's weird in there."

  "Weird? Why?"

  "Brenda, my aunt's housekeeper, is here. I expected that because my aunt loved her. But there's also Lillian, the florist I was telling you about. And Scott."

  "Lillian? Why is she there? And who's Scott?" I stood up, a surge of adrenaline flowing through me.

  "He was my aunt's handyman. The pool boy. Scott Desmond. About my age. He was also at her party that night. My aunt adored him for some reason. I always thought he was a bit smarmy."

  "But why is any of that weird? Your aunt wanted to take care of the people who worked for her. That's actually kind." My suspicions about Zander crept back in. Was he expecting to inherit a lot of money? Had he done something out of greed? Why was he so suspicious of people who clearly had been loyal to his aunt?

  "Yeah, that's probably it. Linda was a sweetheart like that. But the two women are glaring at each other. It's uncomfortable. I can feel the tension."

  "I see." This is my cue to tell him about Lillian…

  "You're ready?" I heard Zander say in a faint voice, as if he was holding the phone away from his mouth. "Thanks, I'll be right in. Hadley, the paralegal says we're about to start and I need to go in."

  "Sure. Good luck with everything." Ugh, I wanted to know more about Scott Desmond. "Hey, how do you spell Scott's last name? I'd like to see if I can find a video of him on social media. Just to make sure he's not the guy I overheard."

  He laughed. "I love how you don't give up. It's D-E-S-M-O-N-D, that's what it said on the paperwork. We
also haven't checked out Lillian."

  I coughed weakly. Well, actually…

  "Hadley, you sound like you need to rest more. I'm glad you're okay. Can't wait to see you. Call you later, okay?"

  "Same, Zander." I grinned into the phone and hung up.

  Any warm fuzzies I felt about Zander were replaced with a fierce determination. I plunked myself on the sofa with my phone and scrolled through the photos I took at Kabloom. Why would there be tension between Lillian and Brenda the housekeeper?

  I again zoomed in on the flower purchase invoice. Five hundred blue hydrangeas. I squinted at the screen. It seemed like a lot of flowers, even for a wedding. Using my smartphone, I fell down a rabbit hole of research about the flower, discovering that in the Victorian era, hydrangeas represented boastfulness, bragging, and vanity.

  You learn something new every day. I scrolled and scrolled, then stopped on a paragraph and sat up a little straighter.

  Are hydrangeas poisonous?

  Hydrangeas aren't edible and can be poisonous if ingested. All parts of the plant are poisonous because they contain cyanogenic glycoside. Cyanide intoxication is usually rare, but if any part of the plant is consumed, immediately contact your local poison control center.

  Holy crap! Had Lillian somehow extracted cyanide from the flowers and injected it into a carton of my ice cream to poison Linda? Was that even possible? Or was this just my overactive, murderino-podcast-loving imagination at work?

  I swiped over to my message screen and typed a note to Zander. He could give me an objective opinion.

  Hey, I think you should know something about Lillian. Can you call me right away?

  This is an automatic Do Not Disturb message turned on. I'm not receiving notifications but will return your message when I am able. Zander

  "Crap!" I cried out loud.

  I reached for my laptop, which was on the nearby coffee table. It was worth Google stalking Scott Desmond while I waited to hear from Zander. I didn't have iron-clad evidence about Lillian, but the hydrangea-cyanide link was, in my mind, highly suspicious.

  "Scott Desmond, pool boy, Devil’s Beach." I typed his name into Facebook.

  An account popped up, and there he was, all smiles and tan skin. I gasped, so startled that my hands froze over the keyboard.

  I scooped it back up. No. It couldn’t be.

  Scott Desmond was the guy in Lillian’s photos. What did that mean? Had they conspired to kill Linda?

  If there were a poster boy for a guy from Florida, he was it. Dirty blonde hair that flopped over his forehead. Broad shoulders, muscular. Often shirtless. He looked as though he could've been in a boy band in his youth. He was probably about thirty, which fit Zander's description.

  I scrolled through his photos and noticed one of an SUV taken outside Linda's house. Then a shot of her pool, with the caption #FloridaLife.

  I clicked over to a video titled "Adult Spring Break." At first, it was a shot of turquoise-colored water and a generic white sand beach. Could be anywhere. Bor-ing. I sighed and was about to click to another one when the camera turned to him.

  "Isn't this freaking awesome? I'm here in Exuma for the Fyre Festival and I'm stoked!" He blathered on for a while in a booze-and-cigarette rasp about how incredible and cool it all was.

  I gasped out loud, and not just because he'd attended the ill-fated luxury music festival sham.

  He was the man I'd heard at Linda's house.

  Thirteen

  I used my phone's map to guide me downtown to the lawyer's office next to city hall. Thankfully because it was mid-morning, traffic wasn't too terrible. I was in the van because, stupidly, I'd let the scooter run low on gas and didn't have time to waste.

  As I drove, my chest tightened as if it were being squeezed between two invisible hands. I sipped in short, shallow breaths.

  I needed to find Zander. Who knew what Scott and Lillian were up to? Zander had said he wasn't expecting to inherit anything from his aunt, but what if she'd somehow changed the will? What would Scott and Lillian do then? My mind spun out of control as I circled the block, trying to find the parking lot entrance.

  Crap. My gaze went to what looked like a lot, and I steered my van inside. I slowed to a stop to grab a parking stub from the automatic ticket machine.

  "Ten dollars an hour?" I cried out loud when I saw the sign above the ticket dispenser. Ugh. Hopefully I wouldn't be here long.

  I grabbed the ticket and the parking arm lifted. As I guided my van into the lot, it let out a long, loud honk. Unreal. Not this again. I smacked the dash with my palm, knowing it had no effect on the horn.

  It stopped. "Thank you," I muttered.

  The lawyer was one of at least a dozen professional offices in a three-story building. There was no parking anywhere, probably because this was an overflow lot for city hall and the nearby police station, too. I circled several rows, and the horn came on again. It wouldn't stop. I rolled my eyes, but after a few seconds, I ignored it. A parking space would materialize soon. Right?

  I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d do once I parked. Probably try to bust into the lawyer’s office and get Zander’s attention. Which would be awkward at best. I’d deal with that when I got inside, though. If I got inside.

  "Come on," I muttered, slowing for what I thought was a space but wasn't, because it was occupied by a motorcycle. "Crap."

  I turned to drive past the building's back entrance, thinking I'd somehow missed a visitor spot. Two people emerged from the ground floor doors, and as they did, the horn made a louder, sicklier honk.

  And wouldn't you know it, one of the two people coming out of the building was Zander. His head turned in my van's direction, and I rolled to a stop in front of the building. The horn wouldn't stop, even when I put it in park.

  "Damn it," I whispered.

  Zander walked toward me, accompanied by a woman. It was Lillian. Holy craparoni. She was prettier and taller than I expected and looked super-sharp in a gray business suit. I had to tell him right away. Had to get him away from her.

  I stuck my head out the driver's side window.

  "Hey, you," he said cheerfully, his face contorting in a puzzled smile-frown, as if he was happy to see me, but a little confused, too. Probably because the van was still bleating. And because my hair was flying everywhere. Oh, and I'm sure I was flushed and sweaty, too. Whatever. I was here to save him and identify the murderers of an innocent woman.

  "Get away from her, Zander!" I yelled, my fingers wrestling with the keys in the ignition. I finally yanked them out while gaping at Lillian, and the van stopped honking. I waved him over. "Come here. Please?"

  Lillian wore a horrified expression on her face but stood frozen. Zander walked toward the window and leaned in.

  "Hadley, are you okay? What are you talking about?"

  I spoke in a low whisper. "Lillian. The florist. She ordered hundreds of hydrangeas, and they contain cyanogenic glucosides."

  "Cyan what?" he asked, squinting.

  "Shh. Cyanide. The plant has cyanide in it. And I'm sure the pool boy Scott is her co-conspirator."

  "Co-conspirator? Hadley, have you been watching a lot of Law and Order or something?"

  "You don't know the half of what I watch. Hear me out. I found a video and recognized his voice on Facebook. He's the guy I heard. And Lillian's the woman."

  Zander scratched his chin. "Hadley, are you sure? I highly doubt if Lillian was involved."

  "Why?" I hissed.

  "Because she didn't inherit any of my aunt's money. Linda left her all the potted plants in her yard. That's why she was here today for the reading of the will. It makes no sense that she'd kill for some plants. And my aunt left me all the books in her library. Isn’t that amazing?"

  "Lillian didn't get any money?"

  "No, but she inherited some potted fruit trees and bromeliads."

  Oh dear. He had a point, I guess. Maybe I was all wrong. I scowled and peeked around Zander to study Lillian, who was star
ing at her phone. If she was guilty, she sure wasn't acting like it. It seemed doubtful she would kill for some fruit trees. Zander turned his head.

  "You okay?" he called to her.

  "Yeah, I'm just waiting for my Uber. Thanks! Good seeing you today, Zander."

  My eyes widened. Her voice was girlish and squeaky. "What? That's not the woman I heard. But I'm certain Scott was the guy I overheard. And he was everywhere on Lillian’s Facebook page. I just don’t know what to think about the hydrangea-cyanide link. It has to be them, though.”

  Zander’s eyebrows shot up. “Maybe not. Perhaps Scott dumped Lillian for Brenda. That explains the tension in the room between the three. And it could explain why Scott and Brenda were awarded nearly everything in my aunt’s estate. They’re getting upwards of ten million, plus the proceeds from the home sale.”

  My jaw dropped. “They what?”

  Zander and I locked eyes, but before he could answer, two other people walked out of the building. One was a blonde woman in a canary-yellow dress, shapely like a Coke bottle. The other was Scott. He was in a charcoal-gray suit and those black Oakley sunglasses. The kind that cyclists and wannabe cool guys wear. My ex wore them too, and I instantly hated Scott.

  "There he is. The pool boy," I hissed. "Is that Brenda?"

  Zander slid a glance to them, then back at me. "Yep, my aunt's housekeeper. They were super cozy together while sitting in the lawyer’s office. Lillian shot bullets with her eyes at them the entire time."

  I sucked in a breath. "No way."

  "Way. I was as shocked as you are."

  I watched as Brenda and Lillian glared at each other. Lillian muttered something, but I couldn’t hear. Brenda simply smirked. This was getting weirder by the moment.

  "Listen. Call them over here so I can hear Brenda speak, okay?"

  Zander nodded, then turned. "Good seeing you, Scott. And you too, Brenda. C'mon over, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend."

  Girlfriend? He'd said it so smoothly, even I almost believed it. Before I could react, the two came to my van's window.