by Morgana Best
“But surely they wouldn’t murder a random person to keep us distracted,” I said.
“I wouldn’t put anything past The Other,” Lucas said. “We already know that they’re keeping an eye on you all. Plus, there are plenty of ways to murder someone and make it look like an accident, and an orchid stake is hardly a subtle way of murdering someone. Perhaps whoever did it wanted the police to know it was a murder, and that does tie in…”
Aunt Maude interrupted him. “And that does tie in with The Other. That’s a good point, Lucas. Someone could easily have slipped him some poison, but the murderer made no attempt to hide the fact it was a murder.” She nodded slowly as she spoke.
“What are we supposed to do all day?” I asked him. “You’re off to the winery, so we’ll just sit around here as if nothing has happened?”
“That’s exactly what I want you to do.” Lucas stood up and took his car keys out of his jeans pocket. “Pepper, keep your phone on you at all times and call me if anything happens. Everyone, be wary of strangers and anyone else who comes to the door today. It does seem likely that The Other are behind this murder, but we can’t be sure, so everyone needs to be on their guard.”
As soon as Lucas left by the back door, Aunt Agnes got up and looked out the window. “Wait right here,” she said to us, and then hurried through the kitchen door. Moments later she returned. “Lucas has driven away,” she said. “This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to go to the orchid show today.” She seized a bottle of Florida Water and tipped some on all of us.
“What the?” I shrieked, wiping it from my eyes.
“You know about Florida Water, Valkyrie,” Aunt Agnes scolded me. “We all need cleansing and protection due to the murder.”
“I’m sure my eyes don’t need cleansing,” I muttered. “So we’re going to go to the orchid show to look for murderers or something like that?”
Aunt Agnes put the Florida Water back on the shelf. “Yes, exactly. Also, I’m trying to think if anyone local sells orchid stakes with pink stickers. There are a few plant nurseries in town.”
“Maybe the hardware sells them as well,” Maude said.
Aunt Agnes nodded. “Okay, the first thing we have to do is find out if it was a local orchid stake.”
“But surely the police will do that,” I said.
Aunt Agnes sighed loudly. “You are right of course, Valkyrie, but the police won’t tell us, will they? We will have to find out for ourselves. If this matter had nothing to do with The Other, then we could leave it to the police, but since we don’t know, we will have to investigate. I’ll go out of the room and call the plant nurseries and the hardware while you three can think up what we should do next.”
“What should we do next?” I asked the aunts soon as Aunt Agnes left the room.
“Drink more Witches’ Brew,” Aunt Dorothy said. She refilled our glasses.
“Do you really think Ethelbert Jones was murdered by The Other?” I asked them.
Aunt Maude and Aunt Dorothy exchanged glances. “It seems strange that someone would murder him as soon as you see your parents for the first time in five years,” Aunt Maude said.
Aunt Agnes burst into the room. “It’s Mrs Mumbles.” Her voice held a note of triumph. “She has stakes.”
“I thought you were calling a plant nursery, not a restaurant.” Aunt Dorothy wrinkled her nose.
Aunt Agnes planted her palm on her forehead. “Honestly Dorothy, sometimes I really wonder about you. She had the orchid stakes on sale and I found out they have pink labels on them.”
“I wonder if she has anything against the victim,” I said, more to myself than to the aunts.
“Mrs Mumbles herself wasn’t there today. I spoke to one of her workers. She’s at the orchid show.”
Things seemed to be coming together. I nodded. “The orchid show, so she probably knew the victim since he attended every year.”
“That’s what we’re all about to find out,” Aunt Agnes said. “We can ask some questions. No doubt, word will have already got out that Mr Jones was murdered and so everyone will be talking about it. All we have to do is keep our ears open and speak to Mrs Mumbles herself.”
Aunt Maude tapped her chin. “It will be interesting to see who is exhibiting and we can ask around to see if anyone had problems with the victim.”
“Yes, we have it all sorted out,” Aunt Agnes said. “I’m just a little worried about leaving Breena home by herself.”
“We left her home by herself when she was a cat,” Aunt Dorothy pointed out.
Chapter 6
It was raining now, the type of rain that sets in for days rather than a passing thunderstorm. We did need the rain; it hadn’t rained in ages. The aunts and I were packed into Aunt Agnes’s little car and she was hurtling along a dangerous road. At least, I thought it was dangerous, but the aunts didn’t seem to care.
I clutched the side of the door for dear life. “Are you sure this is the way to the orchid show?”
The aunts assured me that it was. “Does everyone come on this road to get to it?” I asked them.
“Yes, why wouldn’t they?” Aunt Agnes said as she took a corner too fast.
“Aunt Agnes, would you please slow down? It’s raining and we’re going down hairpin bends.”
Aunt Agnes sighed but did as I asked. “I know the road, Valkyrie. I suppose it could seem a little unsafe to someone who wasn’t used to it.”
I looked over the edge into the abyss. The convict-built road had no guardrail. In some places there were even no trees to stop a car that went over the edge from hurtling to the bottom of the mountain. I tried to tear my face away from the sheer drop but was unable to do so.
“Make sure you turn your phone off, Valkyrie,” Aunt Dorothy said. “Lucas will want to know where you are.”
“But if I don’t answer, he’ll panic,” I protested.
I presume Aunt Dorothy nodded, but I had my eyes firmly shut. I only opened them again when the car stopped. “Are we there yet?” I asked.
“No, we have another ten or so kilometres to go yet,” Aunt Agnes said.
I opened my eyes to see a set of traffic lights. “Traffic lights in the middle of nowhere?”
“Perhaps you can’t see from where you’re sitting in the back seat,” Aunt Agnes said, “but the road narrows here and only one car can get through at a time. They have traffic lights so they can let both sides of traffic through in turn.”
I could scarcely believe my ears. How archaic! I stuck my head out the window and peered through the driving rain. Sure enough, there was a ghastly, narrow road winding around the edge of the mountain. Thankfully, this road did have a guardrail but even so, the road was quite narrow.
The light turned green and the car accelerated. It was a harrowing experience. Finally, we came to an intersection and turned right onto a good wide road. “Is there another way back?” I asked in desperation.
“Yes, but it takes an extra hour or two,” Aunt Agnes said.
I thought that a good idea, but the aunts didn’t share my view. I looked at the map app on my phone. “I think it’s just up there,” I said. “Stop! We need to park here.”
Aunt Agnes screeched the car to a stop outside a mustard building. The words, ‘Community Hall Est. 1901,’ were emblazoned across the front in faded red paint.
“I’ll have to go around the block,” Aunt Agnes lamented. “I think we overshot the parking area.”
We drove around the block and found the parking area readily enough. I jumped out of the car. Aunt Dorothy stepped out behind me. Aunt Maude got out of the front seat and held a large umbrella over me, while Aunt Agnes held an umbrella over Aunt Dorothy.
We all hurried towards the hall. When we got to the door, we had to pay to get in. “How much is it?” Aunt Agnes asked the smiling man.
“Two dollars a person,” he said. We duly paid him and he gave us a ticket each. We made to walk on, but the man sitting next to him called out to us
. “You get a free ticket for the lucky door prize,” he said. “It’s a wonderful prize! You could win five bags of orchid fertiliser.”
Aunt Agnes’s face lit up. I had no idea why. All the orchid fertiliser in the world wasn’t going to help her fake orchids grow any better. We filled out our names, addresses, and phone numbers on the slip of paper and dropped the paper in a box. The aunts took off. I was about to follow them when another man beckoned to me. “Everyone gets a free packet of liquid fertiliser,” he said.
I took mine and thanked him. Aunt Dorothy hurried back. “Did you say free liquid fertiliser?” she asked, clearly delighted.
He handed her a packet too.
“You don’t have any orchids,” I whispered to her.
“But it’s free, Valkyrie,” she said gleefully. “Now let’s go in and question some suspects.” She patted me on my back and grinned from ear to ear.
“I’ll have to buy an orchid so as not to look suspicious,” Aunt Agnes said. “You pick one, Valkyrie. You can have it. It will be a gift.”
I thanked her. I had to admit, the orchids were awfully pretty. I would have to find out how to look after them. I was taken with a little golden one. There were some gorgeous pink and white ones, but they cost a lot more. I saw Aunt Agnes shooting me an impatient look, so I handed her the pretty golden one. “I’d like this one please, Aunt Agnes.”
She grabbed it with one hand and then grabbed my arm with the other, pulling me over to the counter where people paid. “I’m buying this for my niece for a present,” she said, “and then we’ll go and look at the other orchids.”
“It’s an orchid and foliage show,” the lady said.
“Foliage?” Aunt Agnes was seemingly at a loss. The woman simply smiled and nodded. “Do you think we’re going to see who won the orchid prizes now?” Aunt Agnes asked the woman. “I expect Ethelbert Jones’s orchids will have done well as usual.”
The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. She leant forward, her tone conspiratorial. “Haven’t you heard? He was murdered only this morning.”
Aunt Agnes gasped. “You don’t say! Murdered? Are you sure?”
“Yes. My sister’s best friend’s brother-in-law does filing at the police station and he found out.”
“Who could possibly have murdered him?” Aunt Agnes said.
The woman opened her mouth to speak, but a large man pushed in and dumped two huge orchids on the table. Aunt Agnes was clearly put out. She guided me to the wall. “She was about to tell me,” she said. “Now let’s mingle and we’ll see what we can find out.”
The little hall was cramped, and dark and gloomy with the rain beating on the iron roof. I had been given a pamphlet at the door and looked at it now. It mentioned a talk on orchid care. I tugged at Aunt Agnes’s arm. “Look, it says Alec Aldon is giving a talk on orchid care.”
“That quiet and scary thin man?” she asked me.
I nodded in his direction. Alec Aldon was down one end of the hall just in front of the stage, and the five rows of chairs in front of him were all filled. Everyone was leaning forward, clearly struggling to hear what he was saying. The rain was beating down outside and I knew from experience that Alec Aldon spoke in little more than a whisper. “I didn’t know he was an orchid fancier too,” Aunt Maude said. “I thought he was only obsessed with roses.”
“Well, we know him so we can ask him for information,” Aunt Agnes said. “We just have to wait until he finishes his talk.”
Alec Aldon seemed quite happy gesturing here and there to the myriad orchids on display. I doubted anyone could hear him and I wondered why they continued to sit there.
Aunt Maude tapped me on my shoulder. “Agnes, Valkyrie, there’s Mrs Mumbles.”
A muscle-bound woman with a shock of pink hair, Mrs Mumbles had a commanding presence. She clutched baskets filled with orchid stakes and various items to her. “Leave the talking to me,” Aunt Agnes said.
“Hello, Mrs Mumbles, isn’t it?” Aunt Agnes said.
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Yes.” Her tone was curt.
“I’ve bought plants from you before. Maybe you don’t recognise me?”
The woman clearly didn’t recognise Aunt Agnes, but she appeared to swallow Aunt Agnes’s story. Her face softened. “Yes, forgive me. I have so many customers.”
Aunt Agnes waved her concerns away. “Yes, I’ve decided to get into orchids, but I don’t know much about them. Do you sell any books on orchids?”
Mrs Mumbles nodded. “As a matter of fact I do,” she said. “I have a great book in stock, Orchids for Dummies.” Aunt Agnes looked quite put out. Mrs Mumbles did not appear to notice and pushed on. “And I have all varieties of orchids and I can tell you how to look after them. I have Phalaenopsis, and Cattelyas, both good for beginners. Now some varieties love a lot of bright sunlight, but others, not so much. The worst thing people can do with orchids is either give them too much water or not enough water.”
Her voice droned on and on and as she unfolded the intricacies of orchid growing. Aunt Agnes’s eyes glazed over and I’m sure mine did as well. The other two aunts had taken the opportunity to leave.
When Mrs Mumbles paused for breath, Aunt Agnes butted in. “Yes, I can’t wait to buy some orchids from you and get your good advice. Have you heard that Ethelbert Jones was murdered only this morning?”
Mrs Mumbles looked shocked, but her next words showed she had already heard. “It’s all over town,” she said. “No one liked him. He didn’t like pets.”
“I’m surprised he liked orchids, then,” Aunt Agnes said.
Mrs Mumbles appeared to be confused, probably trying to make the link between pets and orchids.
“I wonder if someone killed him so they could beat his orchids in the show and win for a change,” Aunt Agnes said.
Mrs Mumbles pulled a face. “No, Ethelbert Jones certainly doesn’t always win. I mean, he didn’t always win. We really don’t have one person who wins more than another.” She stopped speaking and looked into the distance. “Well, there’s Killian Crosgrove who wins a lot and I do quite well if I do say so myself, and then of course there’s the expert, Alec Aldon, who wins as well. And Joyce Batson has done well for herself today. She’s won several of the foliage sections as well as some of the orchid sections today.”
“I know Joyce,” Aunt Agnes said, elbowing me in the ribs. To Mrs Mumbles, she said, “But who could possibly have killed him?”
“I suppose the police will find out soon enough,” Mrs Mumbles said.
“Then you assume he was shot?”
Mrs Mumbles look startled. “Sorry?”
“If the police knew he was murdered from the beginning it means he must’ve had a knife sticking out of his back, or been shot or something obvious.”
Mrs Mumbles recovered. “Oh, I see what you mean. I don’t exactly know, but the police questioned me briefly this morning and wanted to know about my stock.” She looked around the room and then whispered, “They seemed very interested in these.” She pulled an orchid stake from her basket. Sure enough, it had a pink dot on it. “They wanted to know who I’d sold these to recently.”
“And did you tell them?” Aunt Agnes asked, matching her tone.
Mrs Mumbles’ jaw fell open. “Are you kidding me? These things are cheap. I’ve had them on sale for ages. I don’t keep a record of who buys these things and I can’t for the life of me remember who would have bought any in the past week. The police seem to think it was suspicious that I didn’t know, but I can’t remember everything I sell, now can I?”
After a few moments of silence, Aunt Agnes said, “No, that’s preposterous. The police seem quite unreasonable.”
Mrs Mumbles shot her a warm smile. “Exactly.” She looked around the room before speaking. “You see, it must be an orchid grower. Surely someone in this room murdered him, because he was here for the orchid show and he was murdered with an orchid stake.”
“Do you have any idea who could have murdered him?�
� Aunt Agnes said.
“Well, I sold the orchid stakes, so the police will likely be suspicious of me,” she said, rolling her eyes, “and please don’t listen to the rumours about Killian Cosgrove. People say Ethelbert Jones put mealy bugs on his orchids. Everyone’s talking about it. Of course, Killian didn’t murder him, because no one would murder someone over mealy bugs. It was Joyce Batson who had a bone to pick with him.”
“Mealy bugs?” I repeated. “They don’t sound very nice. Are they some sort of parasite?”
Mrs Mumbles appeared happy to talk about mealy bugs. “Oh yes, they look like little bits of cotton and they adhere to plants. The best way to get them off is with White Oil, but you can’t buy white oil anymore. These days they call it Pest Oil. But it’s really White Oil, only diluted as far as I know. Of course you can get them off with soapy water or very diluted methylated spirits. It’s better to use isopropyl wipes actually. You have to repeat it in ten or so days.”
I interrupted her. “But how could Mr Jones possibly put mealy bugs on Killian Cosgrove’s orchids?” I asked her.
“It was last night,” she said. “The hall was open so everyone could bring their exhibits for today and Ethelbert Jones was here first. Killian put his orchids in and left, but some other growers saw Ethelbert Jones bending over Killian’s orchids, and they all had mealy bugs.”
“They couldn’t possibly have had mealy bugs before?”
Mrs Mumbles looked at me as if I had taken leave of my senses. “Of course not!” she shrieked. “No one would bring mealy bugs to a show. No, it was very suspicious.”
“But someone wouldn’t kill someone over something like that, surely?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “Of course not. Mealy bugs are bad, but they’re not the end of the world. No, someone murdered him for some reason.”
I knew that was logical, but I was still trying to get the timeline right. Aunt Agnes apparently was feeling the same way. “I actually run a Bed and Breakfast, and he was boarding with us. He only booked in yesterday and he wanted a sunny room for his orchids. Why would he want a room for his orchids if they were already here?”