‘But you just said you were concerned about Ms Morris living next door to Shackleford because of the way he treated women. I think that information should be shared, don’t you?’
‘I don’t know about that.’ Baggett stared at a spot on the countertop. ‘Many of the women round here seemed to enjoy flirting with Shackleford.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning, I’m not set to raise a fuss over two consenting adults acting like the tomcat’s kitten.’
Tish narrowed her eyes. ‘Mr Baggett, are you sure you weren’t simply jealous of Mr Shackleford?’
Baggett looked up from the countertop at Tish, his eyes flashing with anger. ‘Jealous? Of a cad like Sloane Shackleford? Never.’
‘So you weren’t afraid that Ms Morris might, like the other women you mentioned, enjoy Mr Shackleford’s attentions?’
‘No. Never. I mean, Zadie is a gorgeous woman. And kind. A real gem. She’s definitely someone Shackleford would have gone for, but she wouldn’t have put up with his manhandling or manufactured charm. She told me she’d known a man like Shackleford in the past and she had absolutely no desire to socialize with his sort ever again.’
‘Ms Morris might not have wanted to socialize with Mr Shackleford, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t try to socialize with her,’ Tish said as delicately as possible.
‘I understand what you’re getting at, but you don’t know my Zadie. She’s like a diamond – beautiful, but tough. If that swine had said or done anything off color, she’d have put him in his place. My Zadie has sass and class, unlike some other women here at Coleton Creek who fought over Shackleford like two mules fighting over a turnip.’
‘But still you were worried,’ Tish noted.
‘Yes, I was worried. I didn’t trust Sloane Shackleford. I just plain ol’ didn’t trust him. I had good reason too, but you might want to ask Jim Ainsley about that,’ he quipped as he gathered up his reusable bag.
‘Ask me about what?’ Ainsley, as if by magic, had materialized in the kitchen doorway, looking dapper in a white dress shirt, white trousers, and a gray pinstriped blazer.
‘Oh, Ms Tarragon had some questions.’ Baggett was intentionally vague. ‘I see you’re wearing your judging outfit.’
‘Yes. Less than two hours to go. We’ll be starting at Wren Harper’s, as usual, and working our way through the neighborhood.’
‘I’ll be ready and waiting,’ Baggett assured, placing his fedora back on his head at a jaunty angle.
‘Oh, Mr Baggett,’ Tish spoke up before the man could make his leave. ‘What do I owe you for the produce?’
‘Not a cent. Just make sure to give me credit in the dish.’
‘Will do and thank you.’
Baggett leaned toward Ainsley so that their faces were mere inches apart. ‘I can’t wait to see everyone’s reactions when they bite into the lettuce and tomatoes raised by the winner of the competition. Won’t that be a scream? Ha!’
With a tip of his hat, Orson Baggett marched out of the kitchen, still chuckling over his imminent success.
‘Honestly, that man,’ Ainsley grumbled. ‘I hope he wasn’t too much of a nuisance.’
‘Not at all,’ Tish replied.
‘Good. I stopped by to see how you were getting on and whether you needed anything.’ Ainsley flashed a sly smile. ‘I was also wondering if there might be a chance of sampling a sausage roll.’
Tish laughed and wandered over to the oven. ‘Sausage rolls won’t be ready until this afternoon, but the scones are done. I can fix you one with clotted cream and jam, if you’d like.’
‘That sounds like a mighty agreeable substitute.’
Tish grabbed an oven mitt and went about pulling the two baking sheets of scones from the oven and stacking them on a rolling rack with the others. ‘So, going back to your first question, everything is moving along well. However, I did have a bit of a run-in with Nathan and Mariette Knobloch yesterday afternoon.’
‘Really? What were they doing here?’
‘Simply put, they were here to stop the luncheon.’ Tish removed a cooled scone from one of the lower tiers of the rolling rack and placed it on a plate.
‘Really? Why?’
Tish split the scone in half and wandered to the refrigerator. ‘They claim the garden competition is responsible for Mr Shackleford’s death.’
‘That’s ludicrous. What did you tell them?’
‘I told them that I was hired by the garden club and, as such, they would need to talk to you if they wanted to stop the luncheon.’ Tish, having fetched a container of clotted cream and a jar of her homemade strawberry preserve from the refrigerator, placed a dollop of each on the plate, added a knife for spreading, and presented it to Ainsley.
‘Ooh,’ he moaned as he sniffed the still-warm scone. ‘Well, the Knoblochs didn’t say “boo” to me. I was in all evening. My phone never rang and no one came knocking at my door.’
‘Strange, because they seemed to be dead set on cancelling the competition and shutting down the garden club. I even thought they’d come back at night and tear down the decorations I put on the patio.’
‘Yeah, I called Sheriff Reade to have his officers keep an eye on the place,’ Schuyler corroborated.
Ainsley spread some cream and jam on a half of scone and sunk his teeth into it. ‘Mmm,’ he moaned once again. ‘Scrumptious. Simply scrumptious.’
‘Thank you. So, even though the Knoblochs didn’t contact you last night, you must have known about their disapproval of the garden club.’
Ainsley chomped on a large bite of scone, sending crumbs cascading down the front of his shirt. When he had swallowed the mouthful, he spoke. ‘I’d heard some rumblings indicating that Mariette and Nathan weren’t fans of the garden club or our annual competition, but they themselves never once spoke to me directly. Their communication with you is the first time they’ve openly tried to stop our event. Not that I’m too surprised by that either. The Knoblochs were never in favor of the residents having gardens in the first place.’
He popped another bit of scone into his mouth and licked his fingers.
Tish moved to the other end of the counter and prepared to roll out the pastry casing for the sausage mixture. ‘If the Knoblochs weren’t in favor of residents having their own gardens, then why is it permitted? This is their development. They set the rules, don’t they?’
‘To a point. Any regulations the Knoblochs propose are subject to the approval of the Coleton Creek Homeowners’ Association. The development actually started out with a non-garden clause in the bylaws – imposed, of course, by the Knoblochs – but as the community grew and developer-appointed board members were slowly phased out and replaced with members of the community, the mandate came into question. The board voted unanimously to reverse the non-garden clause. The Knoblochs immediately tried to overturn the ruling, but to no avail.’ Ainsley punctuated this statement by taking another bite of scone and cream.
‘What about the garden club and competition? Did the Knoblochs propose a regulation to outlaw them?’
Ainsley replied in the negative. ‘Like I said, all I’ve ever heard are rumblings and rumors. And even those didn’t start until a few months ago.’
Tish glanced at Jules, who raised a questioning eyebrow. The Knoblochs claimed that Shackleford’s murder had spurred them to take action against the garden club, but Ainsley’s words suggested they had been trying to undermine the club for several weeks. ‘Can you think of what might have provoked the Knoblochs’ disapproval?’
Having finished his scone, Ainsley wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and disposed of it on his empty plate. ‘I can only speculate, of course, but I think it was Biscuit.’
‘Biscuit?’ Tish retrieved her favorite rolling pin from her bag of tools. ‘The dog?’
‘Again, I’m guessing, but I’ve gotten the distinct impression that the Knoblochs had been fielding several complaints about Sloane Shackleford and how his dog was turning contestants’ lawns and garden
s yellow.’
‘I thought contestants complained to you about Biscuit,’ Tish stated, recalling Orson Baggett’s account of Biscuit’s late-night travels.
‘They did. And I, due to their complaints, spoke to Shackleford on their behalf. But when Biscuit was still seen marauding, some folks went over my head.’
‘I know Orson was furious that you didn’t toss Shackleford out of the club,’ Tish remarked as she dusted the counter with flour.
‘I know he was. But how could I? There was no proof Shackleford set Biscuit loose with a command to destroy other gardeners’ properties. What folks don’t realize is that Shackleford’s garden was compromised just as much as anyone else’s – perhaps more so. Just back in July, Shackleford had some yellow patches dug up from his lawn and replaced with sod.’
Tish stopped in her tracks. ‘Shackleford’s garden had yellowing problems, too?’
Ainsley nodded. ‘Shackleford was convinced something other than Biscuit was at the root of the problem.’
‘Did he mention what he thought it might be?’ Tish returned her attention to the pastry.
‘No. Shackleford wasn’t much of a conversationalist, unless he happened to be the central subject of discussion.’ Ainsley watched as she shaped the dough into a loose rectangle. ‘That sure looks buttery.’
‘It is.’ Tish realized that as long as Jim Ainsley was eating, he’d be happy to keep on talking. ‘Would you like some mango, Mr Ainsley? I’m using it in a chutney for the Coronation chicken salad, but we can spare a small cup of it for you.’
‘Really? That would be excellent.’
Tish approached Schuyler’s work area and scooped a handful of the gloriously orange pulp into a small ramekin, which she presented, with a fork, to a delighted Ainsley.
‘So, with Shackleford no longer in the competition, Orson Baggett seems confident he’s going to take the garden-of-the-year prize. Is he really the favorite to win this weekend?’
‘I wouldn’t call him the favorite, but he’s certainly in close contention for top prize. Wren Harper’s garden will probably score high for overall design. And the Abercrombies will take top rank as the most colorful. However, judges will probably award Orson extra points for his heirloom plant varieties and for recreating a historic colonial garden. All in all, it will be a very tight race.’
‘Much tighter now that Mr Shackleford is no longer in the competition?’
‘Yes,’ Ainsley begrudgingly admitted as he slurped down a chunk of mango. ‘Look, I see what you’re getting at, Ms Tarragon, but I don’t think a gardener killed Sloane Shackleford. Gardeners start life from seed and nurture plants to grow. They don’t hack a life down for some foolish trophy.’
‘Even if they believe that trophy has been won by treachery and deception?’
‘Even if that trophy was won by treachery and deception for five years straight.’ Ainsley thrust his hands into the pockets of his striped blazer and stared down at the floor. ‘No, if you’re looking for Shackleford’s killer, you’re better off looking at the unsavory elements of his life.’
‘Such as?’ Tish asked, although she was fairly certain she already knew the answer.
‘Among other things, the endless parade of women entering and exiting his bedroom door.’
‘From what I hear, Shackleford was single and the women were willing,’ Jules offered. ‘Not sure we should pass judgment.’
Ainsley looked up. ‘I’m not judging Sloane Shackleford for his lifestyle, Mr Davis. I’m objecting to the collateral damage that lifestyle left in its wake. The women Shackleford used for profit, for sex, even his daily meals, and then discarded as if they were meaningless, worthless entities.’
A long, dark silence drew over the kitchen as Schuyler, Jules, and Tish focused on their individual tasks.
Ainsley, meanwhile, collected himself. ‘I apologize for my outburst, Ms Tarragon. I just …’
‘It’s OK,’ Tish excused. ‘Between the murder and the competition, emotions are running high right now.’
‘There’s that, but I might as well tell you as you’ll eventually hear about it from someone else. One of Shackleford’s “conquests” was a lady friend of mine.’
Tish’s mouth formed a tiny ‘o.’ She had learned of Ainsley’s relationship with Pepper Aviero straight from the lady herself, but it would interesting to get his take on things.
‘Pepper and I had been seeing each other for almost a year. It wasn’t a serious relationship by youthful standards. There was no talk of marriage or moving in with each other. We both enjoyed our own homes and valued our independence, but we met on a regular basis for dinners, walks, movies, conversation.’ He smiled wistfully. ‘It was all about caring and companionship. Or, at least I thought it was.’ Ainsley’s smile faded. ‘Pepper started to cancel dates at the last minute. The first time it happened, she claimed she was ill. I offered to bring her soup at her home and to pick up whatever medication she might need from the store. She refused – said she just needed a good night’s sleep. I respected her wishes and didn’t think much of it until a week later, when she delayed our dinner date by nearly two hours. When I asked her why she needed to move the time, she said she was busy with children and grandchildren. What had occurred to make her so much busier than usual, she could not say. This pattern of behavior went on for several weeks. Pepper was unavailable to meet certain days of the week, whereas previously she’d been free. And when we did manage to make plans, she would arrive late or she’d reschedule entirely. Whenever I’d try to talk to her about it, she claimed that things were the same as they always were and I was being paranoid or insecure.
‘Shortly after Ben Harper’s funeral, I paid a visit to Wren. I wanted to see how she was getting along and whether there was anything I could do to help. I also wanted to convince her to focus on her garden as I felt it could serve as therapy. I was pleased to hear that Wren was, of course, continuing her garden and had ordered several bags of manure from the nursery. Only problem was the nursery had delivered the manure in fifty-pound sacks, which she couldn’t lift. Happy to have found some small way to help, I went out and moved the bags from the driveway, where they had been dropped, and spent several hours working with Wren to rake the manure on to the grounds. We were halfway through the spreading when I glanced over the fence to see Pepper exiting the back door of Shackleford’s house. He was standing in the doorway in his bathrobe and she gave him a kiss before sneaking off through the hedges.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Tish sympathized.
‘I’m over it now.’ Ainsley raised his shoulders as if to divest himself of the ugly affair. ‘That evening, I broke things off with Pepper. I didn’t tell her I’d seen her at Shackleford’s. Didn’t see the point really. She’d only make excuses or tell me I was imagining things. Nor did I ask what I had or hadn’t done to push her into another man’s arms. Most likely out of fear she’d give me an honest answer.
‘And so,’ he went on, ‘we parted ways. Well, as far apart as two people can be in a tightknit community like this. I did, however, break the news about Shackleford to her yesterday. I didn’t want her finding out from the police or the Coleton Creek rumor mill. For some reason, I felt I owed her a little bit of compassion. When I spoke to her, she told me Shackleford had done to her what he’d done to dozens – if not scores – of other women. He threw her over for someone else.’
‘Karma,’ Jules commented and flung a peeled, deveined shrimp into a chilled bowl with added verve.
‘There was a time when I would have shared that viewpoint. But right now I feel sorry for her. Pepper threw away what we had – something that I thought was sweet and good – for a man who tossed her aside at the first opportunity. She should have been smarter than that. She is smarter than that.
‘As president of the garden club, I try to remain above the fray of neighborhood affairs. I try not to allow my personal thoughts and feelings to interfere with our competition or how the club is run,’ Ainsley exp
lained. ‘As such, I pleaded with our members to keep a cool head and to give Sloane Shackleford the benefit of the doubt. But beneath it all, I’ve always thought he was a monster, a manipulator, a megalomaniac. Being done in with a garden spade is far better than the man deserved. Far better.’
NINE
‘Nice job not interrogating Mr Ainsley,’ Schuyler remarked, shortly after Ainsley had left the kitchen for his judging duties.
‘See?’ Jules pointed his shrimp-deveining knife in Tish’s direction. ‘Even your boyfriend thinks you’re on the case.’
‘He’s—’ Tish was about to shout that Schuyler wasn’t her boyfriend, but then noticed the ecstatic grin that had crept steadily across the attorney’s visage. ‘I’m not on the case.’
‘Is that why you questioned Orson Baggett, too?’
Schuyler tossed the last of the chopped mango into a bowl and presented it to Tish. ‘“Questioned” is putting it mildly. What I saw was more like grilling. It reminded me of when we learned how to cross-examine witnesses back in law school.’
‘I didn’t question or grill anyone.’ Tish punctuated the statement by shoving a tray of sausage rolls into the oven and slamming the door shut behind them. ‘I’m a cook. I nurture people and, therefore, they open up to me. It’s similar to people chatting to a bartender, except the people who share their stories with me spew crumbs rather than slur their words.’
‘Spewing aside, don’t you think you ought to check in with Clemson Reade and tell him what you’ve learned?’ Schuyler asked.
‘No, the sheriff is quite capable of running his own investigation. Besides, he’s probably already unearthed everything I know.’
‘Are you kidding?’ Jules exclaimed. ‘Baggett hated Shackleford because he won the competition and might have tried to steal his girl. Ainsley hated Shackleford because he stole his girl and dumped her. Pepper Aviero hated Shackleford because she was charmed and then dumped. Susannah Hilton hated Shackleford because she dissed him and he harassed her—’
‘According to Orson Baggett,’ Tish clarified. ‘We don’t know that as a fact.’
The Garden Club Murder Page 8