The Garden Club Murder

by Amy Patricia Meade

  ‘So Kayla decided to stay here with her mama?’

  ‘They’re upstairs, sound asleep.’

  ‘Probably need it, the poor darlin’s. How are you holding up?’

  ‘I’m fine. Focusing on people and tasks as they present themselves. How about you? You were here all afternoon with Mary Jo, then you baked the cakes last night, and now you’re here early. You must be tired.’

  ‘January nineteenth, 2003,’ Celestine answered matter-of-factly.

  ‘Huh? What’s that?’

  ‘The last time I slept more than five consecutive hours in one night.’

  ‘You’ve had insomnia for over fifteen years?’ Tish glanced at the steaming mug of coffee in Celestine’s left hand. ‘Did you try switching to decaf?’

  ‘Honey, I’ve tried everything, but it’s my darned hormones. I’ve given up caffeine, I’ve taken up green tea, I’ve replaced sweet tea with lemon water, I’ve tried those relaxation tapes. Nothing. I even tried to increase my soy intake by eating edamame beans. I made my old-fashioned layered salad – you know, the one with iceberg lettuce and topped with Miracle Whip – and stuck ’em in between the bacon and cheese layers, right where the peas should be. Didn’t do a thing.’

  Tish had called the state of Virginia home for over twenty years, but the Southern predilection for frying, pickling, or smothering otherwise deliciously fresh vegetables with mayonnaise still confounded her. Even Jules, despite his otherwise cosmopolitan tastes, had once argued that his mother’s sour cream, cheese, and Ritz cracker squash casserole could be categorized as health food because it was a plant-based dish.

  Not wishing to insult her friend and employee’s deep culinary roots, Tish overlooked the method of preparation of Celestine’s edamame and instead expressed her regret that her menu modifications had failed to produce a good night’s sleep.

  ‘Aw, it’s OK. Nothing that thousands of other women haven’t experienced since time immemorial. So, you gonna be OK at Coleton Creek today?’

  ‘Yeah, Jules is meeting me there in an hour. So long as no one’s bothered the patio overnight, I should be fine.’ Tish described the trouble with the Knoblochs.

  ‘Oh, that’s all you need right now. Not enough you have a party to cater, a heartbroken friend to tend to, and a murder investigation right at your feet.’

  ‘I know. Fortunately, I have Schuyler on alert. Should the Knoblochs try anything, I’ll just give him a call and he should be able to sort it out quickly.’

  ‘Handsome and handy. Nice to have a lawyer you can actually trust. Personally, I’d always hoped one of my girls would marry a doctor – you know, for all the free medical advice – but it wasn’t in the cards. Still, my one son-in-law works for town maintenance, which has its own benefits. Why, just last week the streetlight at the end of our road went out. My son-in-law made a phone call to his boss and it was repaired within the hour. Normally, we’d have waited days.’

  ‘It’s always good to have connections,’ Tish smiled before making her departure for Coleton Creek.

  She arrived in the lifestyle-center parking lot approximately fifteen minutes later. Grabbing a bag containing several sets of potholders, a pair of Cookin’ the Books aprons, and some favorite kitchen tools from the passenger seat of the Matrix, she stepped out of the driver’s side door and on to the blacktop-paved lot only to be greeted by the sound of Lady Gaga’s ‘Bad Romance’ blasting from the outdoor pool area.

  It was an odd time for a pool party, Tish thought to herself. Deciding to explore the source of such early-morning frivolity, she approached the fenced area and let herself in through the gate.

  As she stepped on to the brick-paved poolside patio area, she was completely unprepared for the scene that met her gaze. Approximately thirty women of varying shapes and sizes and skin and hair colors, all clad in swimsuits of every description, stood at the shallow end of a vast swimming pool, waving their arms, bending their legs, splashing in time with the music, and engaging in what was, evidently, a water aerobics class. This in itself would not have come as a surprise, except that the person leading the class was none other than Julian Jefferson Davis, wearing swim trunks and Ray Bans.

  ‘OK, girls. Stretch your arms over your head as far as you can reach. Remember, you’re caught in a bad romance and you need help. That’s right. Good. Now, let’s alternate bringing our hands to our foreheads in distress. First right. Then left. Now right, left, right. Very good. Now let’s—’

  Jules’s instructions came to an abrupt halt as he spied Tish standing near the fence, her blond head framed by the archway of the gate behind her. ‘Take five, ladies.’ He immediately jumped out of the pool and disconnected his phone from a nearby boombox. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I was about to ask you the same thing,’ she stated as she glared over the top of her sunglasses.

  ‘I got here bright and early to help you and happened upon these lovely ladies about to embark upon their weekly water aerobics class and thought I’d add a little spice to their routine.’

  ‘And you just happened to bring your swimsuit?’ she challenged.

  ‘I thought, perhaps, we might be able to talk Susannah Hilton into letting us take a dip after all our prep work today.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘You must be Tish,’ greeted a woman from the front row of the water aerobics class. ‘You’re just as lovely as Jules described.’

  ‘Oh, well, thank you,’ Tish blushed.

  The woman raised a hand to shield her mouth from Tish’s view. ‘You’re right, Jules. She is a little uptight.’

  Jules gave a brief nod toward the woman before officially ending the class. ‘OK, ladies. That’s enough for today. It was a good one.’

  As the women exited the pool, Tish followed Jules into the lifestyle center as he toweled off. ‘You know you’re not allowed in the pool, Jules. It’s for residents only.’

  ‘Residents and their guests. I was just passing by when those ladies invited me to join them. When I saw just how slow-paced and sad their workout was, I couldn’t help but add some sizzle.’

  ‘I know you meant well, Jules, but what if one of those women had a heart condition? What if someone slipped in the pool and injured herself? We might have been sued.’

  He pulled a turquoise T-shirt from his gym bag and yanked it over his head. ‘Well, if Coleton Creek want to protect their residents, they should provide them with an actual water aerobics instructor. Those gals organized that whole exercise class themselves.’

  Before Tish could respond, a group of water aerobics students entered the lifestyle center singing ‘Bad Romance.’ At the top of her lungs, one of them cried out about being a bitch, baby, at which the rest of the group broke out in hysterics.

  When the women had disappeared down an adjacent corridor, Tish turned to Jules. ‘Look what you’ve done. That’s someone’s grandmother.’

  ‘Sorry, but you can’t get your heart rate up exercising to Barbra, and my entire Kylie Minogue catalog seems to be missing. I swear, if I find out someone at the newsroom deleted Queen Kylie from my phone …’

  ‘I wasn’t criticizing your music selection, Jules. I was just noting that you’re usually not this careless.’

  ‘I was not careless. I was simply sucking the marrow out of the bone of life.’

  ‘OK,’ Tish sighed, realizing that Jules was on yet another crusade of self-realization. ‘Maybe I’m being too harsh. Many of these people do seem lonely and I’m sure you’re like a breath of fresh air to them. However, right now we have a job to do, so can you refrain from sucking marrow while we prep for tomorrow? I promise, if you get hungry, I’ll make you a ham sandwich.’

  ‘Deal. In other news, I peeked through the door to the patio before class started and everything seemed to be in order.’

  ‘Really?’ Tish hurried down the corridor to see for herself. ‘Wait a minute, I thought you said you happened to be “passing by” those women in the pool?’

&nb
sp; ‘Did I?’ Jules emitted a nervous giggle.

  ‘Jules, I really—’

  ‘Hey, how are things?’ came a familiar voice from behind Tish.

  She spun around to see Schuyler Thompson, freshly shaven, and looking positively delectable in a blue-and-white chambray shirt and jeans. ‘Schuyler,’ she greeted him with a hug and a quick kiss on the lips. ‘What are you doing here? Not that I don’t want you here, but I just didn’t expect you to show up while I’m about to work.’

  ‘Whoa, whoa,’ Schuyler urged with a broad grin. ‘Whoa there. Slow down.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Tish breathed heavily. ‘There’s quite a bit going on at the moment.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I’m here to help you. Well, and also to make sure the property managers didn’t give you any grief today.’

  ‘I haven’t seen them yet,’ Tish remarked.

  ‘But everything we set up yesterday seems fine,’ Jules added.

  ‘Good,’ Schuyler deemed. ‘I actually put in a call to Reade after I spoke with you, Tish. I thought he should know about the Knoblochs’ odd behavior, especially since their desire to shut down the garden club competition could be a motive for murder. While I had him on the line, I mentioned we thought they might try to sabotage the event. Reade had his officers include this place on their patrol last night.’

  ‘Wow. Nice work,’ Tish praised. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t think of calling Reade myself.’

  ‘You have a lot on your mind. Speaking of which, how are Mary Jo and the kids?’

  ‘Gregory called last night. He’s hanging in there. Mary Jo and Kayla were asleep when I left this morning. Celestine’s keeping tabs on them today.’

  ‘Then they’re in good hands. Look, if it’s OK with you, I’m going to suggest I take care of dinner tonight. We can go out or, if Mary Jo’s not up to it, we can get some Italian from that place in Ashland. I’m fine with anything, just as long as you’re not adding dinner to your existing duties.’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ Tish smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No problem. Tell Mary Jo to call Gregory. And if he and Kayla each want to invite a friend, that’s fine. Oh, it should go without saying, you’re included in that invitation too, Jules.’

  ‘Aww, thanks, Sky. I should be able to join y’all for a little while but I may have to leave early. I promised Mrs Newman I’d pop by her place for a little Mahjong with the girls. She needed a fourth player so I volunteered.’

  ‘I didn’t know you played Mahjong,’ Tish said with a note of surprise in her voice.

  ‘I don’t. They’re going to whip up a pitcher of Mai Tais and teach me.’

  ‘Who’s Mrs Newman?’ a confused Schuyler asked.

  ‘One of the ladies here at Coleton Creek. Jules just taught a water aerobics class this morning.’

  ‘Mrs Newman was in the front row. The one who said you were “lovely,”’ Jules described.

  ‘And “uptight,”’ she reminded.

  Jules immediately colored. ‘You showed up at just the right time, Schuyler.’

  On this point, Tish could not argue. ‘You really did.’

  Schuyler remained humble. ‘Just trying to help. I know how worried you both are about Mary Jo and her family. I’ve never gone through a divorce, but I know, first hand, how it is to not have a father present all the time. Those kids need to know that they’re supported. To that end, Glen’s invited to our dinner too, if he wants to come. He is Gregory and Kayla’s dad, after all.’

  ‘I’ll run that past Mary Jo, but I think she needs a little more time before she can bear facing Glen at a family-style supper. Still, I’ll mention it to her. Thanks.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘No, I mean it. Thank you for being so wonderful.’ Tish leaned forward and bestowed upon Schuyler a far less chaste kiss than the one she had given him earlier.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he smirked when she had finished. He then caught sight of Jules beaming at them. Awkwardly clearing his throat, he asked, ‘Shall we go check on the patio before getting to work in the kitchen?’

  Tish nodded and led the way down the hall. Jules, his gym bag in tow, sidled up alongside of her and whispered, in a sarcastic tone, ‘Oh, no, Schuyler Thompson is totes not your boyfriend.’

  EIGHT

  As the lifestyle-center kitchen filled with the aroma of baking scones, Schuyler chopped mango for the Coronation chicken salad, Jules set about peeling and deveining several pounds of shrimp for the cocktail of prawns and Marie Rose sauce, and Tish, with a mindful eye on the oven, set about mixing the spicy pork filling for the sausage rolls.

  Feeling the stress of the past few hours melt away, Tish contentedly chopped an onion and then several cloves of garlic into the bowl of a food processor. She was always astonished at how quickly the act of cooking set both her heart and mind at ease.

  After roughly tearing some fresh sage leaves and adding them to the onion and garlic, Tish moved to the refrigerator to retrieve the package of organic sausage meat she had ordered from a local butcher. When she returned to her station, she spotted Orson Baggett standing in the kitchen door.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Baggett,’ she welcomed, noting that the man was wearing a similar outfit to the one he had been sporting the day before, only today his tie was yellow and featured a repeating pattern of red and blue feathers that floated against the bright backdrop as if shed by a passing bird.

  Baggett removed the straw fedora from his head. ‘Mornin’. I’m not interrupting, am I?’

  ‘Not at all. Come on in.’

  ‘Be careful, though,’ Schuyler warned. ‘She might put you to work.’

  Tish introduced Orson to Schuyler.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, sir,’ Schuyler greeted.

  ‘Likewise.’ Baggett approached the counter at which Tish was working with a smile. ‘I brought over that produce you had your eye on yesterday.’

  ‘How sweet of you,’ Tish declared, ‘but you didn’t need to do that. I thought we agreed you should keep it in the garden until the judging was finished.’

  ‘Yes.’ Baggett pulled three lusciously green heads of Cos lettuce from a reusable canvas shopping bag and plopped them on to the counter. ‘But that was while Sloane Shackleford was still in the running.’

  The lettuces and the dozen or so tomatoes that tumbled on to the counter behind them were some of the finest-looking heirloom produce Tish had seen in a long time, but Baggett’s remark about Shackleford no longer being in the competition left her feeling somewhat loath to accept them. ‘So, you’re confident you’re going to win the top prize?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say confident. The race will be close as cat’s breath, but I believe I might just squeak it out.’

  ‘I would think having Shackleford around would have driven everyone to make their gardens better.’

  ‘We did make them better,’ Baggett snapped. ‘But Ainsley was blind in one eye and couldn’t see straight out the other when it came to Sloane Shackleford. The man let his dog wander town and destroy our plants, and Ainsley did nothing about it. Then there’s that whole nonsense about Shackleford personally designing his garden. You’re going to tell me a retired insurance salesman designed that ritzy set-up he had there? Hogwash.’

  Tish conceded that Shackleford’s garden was a rather sophisticated piece of landscape design. ‘Mr Ainsley said the plans Shackleford provided appeared to be genuine.’

  ‘Of course they did. Man was a grifter. Can’t trust anyone who makes their money off selling insurance.’ Like a true Southerner, Baggett pronounced the word as en-surance. ‘He was a real masher, too. Grabbin’ them one minute and treatin’ them like trash the next. Why, he drove poor Susannah Hilton to distraction.’

  ‘Susannah?’

  ‘Yes. He was always pawing at her, and when she finally told him to stop, well, he became nasty. Made it his personal vendetta to upset that poor girl. Why, he was always on her about the pools being dirty, or the grass outside not being mowed, or that
she didn’t answer the phone quick enough.’

  It was becoming abundantly clear to Tish that Orson Baggett’s visit was less about delivering produce than it was about ensuring Shackleford’s untimely death didn’t afford him martyr status. If, in the process, Baggett happened to divert suspicion away from himself, that was just an added benefit.

  ‘Did Susannah complain to the property managers?’ Schuyler asked.

  ‘What, the Knoblochs? Heck, no, those two ain’t worth two cents.’

  Tish reflected upon their arrival yesterday morning. Was Sloane Shackleford the resident with whom Susannah experienced so much difficulty? If so, it gave her quite a motive for wanting him dead.

  ‘Poor Ms Morris,’ Baggett continued with a heavy sigh. ‘Living next door to such a villain. And now a murder’s been committed practically in her own backyard.’

  ‘Don’t forget about Wren Harper,’ Tish reminded. ‘Her property neighbors Shackleford’s as well.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, Wren, too,’ he answered absently. ‘She’s on her own now, isn’t she? Poor woman. But, well, if you haven’t guessed, I’m kinda sweet on Ms Morris.’

  ‘So Jim Ainsley was telling the truth yesterday,’ Jules smirked.

  ‘He was. Ms Morris and I have been enjoying each other’s companionship. But try not to let it get around too much, will y’all? There’s some in this town who can be a hair more than catty.’

  ‘Of course,’ Tish agreed. ‘Although you should probably discuss your concerns about Ms Morris with the police, don’t you think?’

  ‘No, I don’t think. There’s a big difference between worrying over Zadie’ – in his annoyance, Baggett suddenly did away with any formalities – ‘and killing a man.’

  ‘I wasn’t suggesting you killed anyone, Mr Baggett,’ Tish prefaced, although Baggett certainly wasn’t short on motives, ‘but if Shackleford had a history of harassing women, that opens up a whole new set of suspects and circumstances that the police need to examine.’

  ‘It’s up to Ms Hilton and those women to say something, not me.’