Freesias and Foul Play

by London Lovett

  "Will this story get more interesting?" Elsie said before biting down loudly on a pita chip.

  We both looked at her somewhat disapprovingly.

  "Sorry," she said, "I haven't been on a run in two days, so I've got some bottled up tension. Continue with this riveting tale."

  Lola shook her head. "Don't skip the run tomorrow or none of us will be talking to you next week. As I was saying, these two cute actresses walked in to browse around the shop. One of them was wearing this unbelievably cool—"

  "Bomber jacket," I said.

  Lola's shoulders deflated. "Yes, darn. How did you know?"

  "That's Joan. She told me she got the jacket from her—"

  "Grandfather," Lola said quickly. "There, we're even. As neat as the jacket was, that isn't the part I wanted to tell you. The two girls spotted Officer Chinmoor, he was in uniform, on break," she explained. "They were flipping through the old posters I have in the movie star bin, and they started talking really loudly about the murder."

  "You mean like they wanted Chinmoor to hear it?" I asked.

  "That was sure what it seemed like to me. I don't know why else they'd have been projecting their voices like they were onstage or something."

  I scooted closer. "What did they say? What were they saying about the murder?"

  "First they lamented about how they might not be paid if they have to refund the tickets. That's when the one in the bomber jacket, rather loudly, said that someone named Susana was always messing up."

  Elsie had gotten pulled in to the subject matter now. "Who is Susana?" she asked.

  "Susana Damon is the director," I explained. "I spotted Susana having a terrible fight with the victim, Amanda, the woman who played Dorothy. It was just hours before her murder. Susana claimed to have apologized and smoothed things over with Amanda just after the dress rehearsal."

  "Well, not according to the two loud talkers," Lola interjected.

  "Really?" I put my empty plate down on the coffee table. "Did they talk about the fight?"

  "I don't know if this was directly related to the fight, but they said that Susana's mistakes were the reason that Amanda had been going behind Susana's back to talk the producers into firing her. According to their very public conversation, they said the producers were actually going to take Amanda up on the idea. Supposedly, there had been just too many mess ups. They said poor Susana knew her days with the troupe were numbered, and it was all because of Amanda using her clout to get what she wanted. They weren't exactly speaking fondly of the victim either."

  "No, in some of my interviews, I got the feeling she was a bit of a prima donna. I must ask—how did Officer Chinmoor respond to the gossip he was overhearing? Did he walk over to ask them more questions?"

  Lola pursed her mouth in thought. "No, now that you mention it—their loud conversation was all in vain. He was so involved in selecting the right dresser for his girlfriend, I'm not sure he heard a word."

  "Told you he was silly," Elsie quipped.

  "I guess she's right." Lola tilted her head toward Elsie. "As usual. I mean, I'm just a little old antique dealer, but I could tell they were trying very hard to implicate this woman Susana as the killer. They were certainly tossing a motive out there, dangling it for the officer, who couldn't be bothered to take the bait."

  "Poor Officer Chinmoor. He tries so hard sometimes but then important stuff slips right by him." I would tell Briggs about the conversation Lola overheard, but I decided I could leave off the part about Chinmoor standing right there in the store. It was even possible he had heard the conversation but decided not to ask them questions right in the middle of the store. Officer Chinmoor liked to do stuff by the book. I pushed up from the couch and picked up the drink. "I'm going for seconds. Anyone else?"

  Lola held up her glass. "Yes, please. And bring me one of those fruit tarts on your way back to the couch."

  Chapter 26

  Fortunately, I'd had the forethought to stop at two drinks on girls' night. Otherwise, I would have woken with a headache, and I had at least a dozen bouquets to create for customers. The final two, twin vases for actual twins who were turning sixty, were a sumptuous mix of red and orange roses surrounded by a collar of ivy and dotted intermittently with bright pink asters. I finished the bouquets by tying a large pale pink bow around each vase.

  "I think those are your best of the morning," Ryder said as he cut the ends off a fresh shipment of roses.

  I leaned back to admire them. "I think you're right. The customer should be here in the next hour to pick them up." I pulled off my work apron.

  The sun was shining brightly, and it was a true spring day. A dry breeze had brought in some warm air, and it tickled the fresh new leaves on the trees. A walk to the beach was just what I needed after hours of arranging flowers.

  "I could use a break. Do you mind taking over for an hour or so. I was thinking I might—"

  "Snoop around at the town square?" he asked.

  "You know me too well." I hung up the apron and picked up some of the debris I'd left on the work space.

  "I'll get that," Ryder said. "By the way, we've been so busy all morning, you never told me how girls' night went."

  I put my hands on my hips. "I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you. You know what happens at girls' night stays at girls' night."

  "Right, what was I thinking. Don't tell me then. I'm too young to die. Have a nice walk."

  He seemed a little disappointed that I'd cut him off so I stopped at the door. "Not much happened except snacking, a bit of imbibing and a lot of talking. The usual. See you in an hour."

  I headed down the sidewalk and was disappointed to see that Briggs' car was not parked in its usual spot. I'd hoped to stop in and say hello.

  The sky over the beach reminded me of a turquoise bracelet my mom inherited from her mother. A deep breath revealed that the scent of true spring with its tickling pollen and baby fresh flowers was right around the bend. Fortunately for me, I was rarely allergic to any of the fragrances nature had to offer, with the exception of eucalyptus. I'd certainly confirmed my allergy to that fragrance in the past few days.

  I turned along Pickford Way. The drooping sun was reflecting off the ivory white canvas of the performance tent. I shaded my eyes with my hand and surveyed the tent. Aside from the two front flaps where the audience walked through, there were two exit flaps at the rear, one for each side of the stage. It made sense that characters would enter from different sides of the stage. I realized I'd never sniffed around the rear exits of the tent. I assumed the evidence team did a thorough inspection, but I was sure no one had taken an actual sniff of the canvas.

  As luck would have it, no one seemed to be working near the rear of the tent. I cut across the grass to the rear exit on the right. The flaps were tied loosely together with thin canvas bows. I decided to focus on the inside edges of the flaps, the place where people would touch the canvas.

  I ran my nose along it and smelled the oil they used to keep canvas supple. There was a variety of smells, everything from mustard to aftershave. Nothing significant popped out at me, and there were far too many smells to make sense of anything. Dozens of people had probably grabbed the edge of the flap. It had been silly of me to think I'd find something important.

  I released the flap and something shiny caught my eye. Glitter. "Oh great, now I'm stuck with glitter." I took a closer look and noticed more than a few smudges of glitter here and there. It really was everywhere and now it was on me.

  I decided to change course when I spotted Johnny Vespo without his silver makeup and funnel hat. He was walking along the wharf checking out the food stands. There was something about the guy I just didn't like or trust. I had no intention of talking to him, but I didn't want to miss an opportunity to see what the Tin Man did in his spare time. Maybe he was meeting someone on the wharf.

  I hurried across Pickford Way and trotted up the steps to the wharf. I had his shiny black hair in my sights until a sm
all moment of chaos broke out on the wharf in front of the fish market, a place my sensitive nose and I usually tried to avoid.

  A group of people were circled around something. Everyone looked distraught and frantic. Between fidgeting legs and frightened steps backwards, I saw a large pair of gray wings flapping wildly.

  I raced over and pushed between some of the onlookers, who were gasping and asking each other what to do. A large pelican had managed to get himself tangled up in fishing line. His massive beak was clapping at the air, as it took short, anxious breaths. The poor thing was about to scare itself into a heart attack.

  I didn't hesitate. The bird stumbled sideways and clapped its beak at me. Its beady eyes watched me with fear and mistrust. One of the men watching helplessly from the sidelines had a bucket of freshly caught fish.

  "Please, if you don't mind. I can use a fish to keep his beak occupied," I said.

  Everyone prodded the reluctant fisherman to give up a fish. It was slippery and cold in my hand as I held the fish out for the terrified bird. "It's all right," I said in dulcet tones, the same ones I used when Kingston was frightened of something. The pelican responded. His breathing slowed and he turned his beak toward the fish. I dropped it into the pouch and set instantly to work untangling the lines. They were just beginning to cut into his belly. With some effort, I managed to get him free of his predicament. I stood with the clump of plastic line in my hand and everyone clapped. The noise sent the pelican into the air. He soared across to one of the pylons on the pier to finish his fish.

  I broke free of the small crowd and searched up and down the wharf. I'd lost sight of Johnny. I headed toward the marina hoping I'd spot him somewhere along the boat slips. I gasped when someone grabbed my hand. I spun around and came face to face with the man I'd been following.

  "There's nothing I love more than a brave woman," Johnny said with a smarmy smile. "That was something how you walked right up to that bird and saved its life. You could have been hurt." He still hadn't released my hand, so I took the liberty of yanking it free.

  "I was in no danger. The bird was just scared, that's all. He wouldn't have hurt me."

  Yanking my hand away was not a big enough hint, apparently.

  He stepped closer. He was wearing pungent cologne, and the grease slicking back his dark hair had a fragrance of its own. The two mixed together were making my eyes water.

  "I can't believe we nearly smacked into each other again. It must be fate." He reached up and tried to touch my hair.

  I leaned back. "Please don't touch me or my hair. And it wasn't fate because we didn't smack into each other. You grabbed my hand. Rudely, I might add. Now, I've got somewhere to be." I turned but he grabbed my hand again.

  "Let go of the lady's hand," a familiar, deep voice said from behind. I looked over my shoulder. My neighbor and friend, Dash, was standing with his arms crossed and his feet set hard on the wood planks.

  "Why don't you mind your own business," Johnny said.

  I yanked my hand free again. "And why don't you take a big old in your face rejection as the final word?" I stepped back to where Dash was standing.

  Dash kept his piercing gaze on Johnny to make sure the thickheaded man got the point. He finally marched away without another word.

  "Thank you, Dash. The nerve of that guy."

  The angry veneer on his face cracked enough to give me a look of concern. He looked at my hand. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

  I lifted my hand to assure him all the fingers were still moving. "No, I'm fine. Just a little shaken. He came up so suddenly. Good thing you happened by."

  "I don't know, I think you probably could have handled it. I especially liked that last zinger you threw at him."

  "Guess it was pretty good since I came up with it in the midst of a tense moment. Where were you heading?" I asked.

  "Actually, I was working on an engine, and the boat's owner told me some fearless woman just untangled a pelican from fishing line. He mentioned he thought it was the town florist, so I figured I'd walk down and say hello to the fearless woman." His Hollywood caliber smile appeared. "Hello."

  "Hello, and I wouldn't say I'm fearless. After all, you know how I feel about the dark."

  "Yes but that's entirely reasonable. A lot of people are afraid of the dark. What brings you down to the wharf this afternoon? Hoping for a chat with your impossibly charming neighbor?"

  I laughed. It felt good to know the entire unpleasant scene was behind me. "I'm always up for a chat with my impossibly charming neighbor, but if I'm being honest, I was actually following that creep who just grabbed my hand. I'd lost sight of him when I stopped to help the pelican. Then, apparently, he was following me."

  "Stay away from that guy. He's bad news. This wasn't the first time I saw him get grabby with a woman." Dash motioned with his head. "I'll walk you back to Pickford Way. I'm on a break."

  I looked out at the pier. The pelican was long gone, hopefully soaring over the waves and staying clear of fishing line and nets. "What do you mean? You've seen him do this before?"

  "I was working on a boat in the marina on Thursday morning. That guy was walking along the wharf with the actress who was killed. He had her up against the railing. At first, she was giggling and seemed to be enjoying the attention so I went back to my work. Then I heard things get heated. She told him to leave her alone, and she shoved him back. Then she ducked under his arm and hurried away. He looked pretty mad, but he didn't go after her. He paced the wharf for a few minutes. That was the last I saw of him."

  "A guy like that obviously doesn't take rejection well," I said more to myself. "Although, she might have made up with him later. One of my customers saw the Tin Man and Dorothy in full costume cozy on a wharf bench. But maybe she misread the interaction." Either way Amanda sure seemed to be involved in a tangled soap opera when it came to her male coworkers. "Did you tell the police what you saw? It might be relevant."

  "I walked to the station on Friday. Briggs was out so I relayed what I saw to Officer Chinmoor. Not sure if it went anywhere after that."

  "I'll have to ask Briggs if Chinmoor filled him in. Officer Chinmoor means well and tries hard but—"

  "But he's sort of the Barney of Mayberry."

  I stifled a laugh, but it was probably a good analogy.

  We passed the place where I'd helped the pelican. A few of the people standing around pointed and said something like 'there she is, that's the lady who saved the pelican'.

  Dash chuckled. "Looks like you're famous."

  "Maybe they'll put a plaque on the pier with my picture and underneath it'll read 'the lady who saved the pelican'."

  Dash stopped at the steps leading down to the street. "I'm going to head back to the marina."

  "Thank you again, Dash. And thanks for the information. Maybe my walk along the wharf wasn't a complete loss after all."

  Chapter 27

  I hadn't made it ten steps on Pickford Way when Constance came scurrying out of seemingly nowhere to talk to me. She kept peeking around in a paranoid fashion as if she worried someone might see her talking to me. She seemed distraught and not herself.

  "Lacey, I was looking for you. I saw you earlier but then you vanished."

  "I was taking a walk on the wharf. What can I do for you? You seem upset."

  She pressed her hand to her chest. "Yes, it's just I've discovered something that I think I should show someone. But since I can't trust anyone in the group"—she leaned closer—"you know, in case one of them is the killer, I spotted you and since you're with Detective Briggs—" Her breath was coming in short spurts as she tried to get it all out.

  I put my hand on her arm. "Slow down and take a breath. Then you can show me, and I'll talk to Detective Briggs. No one from the theater group needs to know."

  Constance nodded and paused dramatically to catch her breath. "Thank you. I feel so much better. I'm glad I saw you again. I was so frantic after I lost sight of you earlier." Her little chin tilted
to the side. "Were you inspecting the tent? I thought I saw you at the back, near the stage entrances." Her big eyes grew larger. "Did you find anything? Maybe you saw the same thing I saw."

  I wasn't exactly sure how to lie my way out of snooping around the tent, so I went with the truth. "I was just checking to see if the evidence team missed anything."

  "That's right. You told me you have an extra good sense of smell. Did you find anything? It sure would be nice if they arrested the killer so the rest of us can sleep better."

  "I'm sure it'll happen soon. And no, I didn't find anything. But it sure seems like you did. What did you discover?"

  She shrank down and peeked around. There was plenty of activity in the town square, but no one seemed the least bit interested in what Constance was doing. They were all going about their business. I did a quick visual sweep of the area, keeping a particular eye out for Johnny. I was relieved not to see him.

  "What I have to show you is inside the performance tent," Constance said in a low voice. "Let's walk to the end of the sidewalk and cut across to the back of the tent so no one sees us."

  "All right." I had no idea what she would show me considering the entire stage and tent had been searched for evidence the night of the murder. Whatever it was, Constance seemed to think it was important.

  Like spies sneaking into the enemy's headquarters, we hunkered down to be less visible. With furtive glances both directions, we skittered across the grass and then raced to the back of the tent. Even though we should have drawn attention with our obvious run, it seemed we made it to the stage entrance without notice.

  We stopped at the flaps. Constance put a finger to her lips, telling me to be silent. Then she untied a few of the bows and poked her face into the tent. She pulled it back out. "Coast is clear. There's no one inside." She quickly opened the remaining ties and we slipped into the tent. She pushed the flaps closed to give the appearance that they were still tied shut.