The Garden Club Murder

by Amy Patricia Meade

  ‘Huh? Poisoning? Who’s been poisoned?’

  ‘The lilies outside the café,’ Tish explained.

  ‘OK. By the way, I brought you a coffee.’ He gestured to a pair of travel mugs in the center console. ‘It’s not as good as yours but I thought you might need the caffeine. I now see that was a ridiculous assumption on my part.’

  ‘It’s not ridiculous. I’m just running on adrenaline.’ Tish picked up the mug in the passenger-side cup holder and took a sip. ‘Mmm, that’s very good. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. So you were talking about alkaline poisoning.’

  ‘The lilies in my planter have yellow leaves because the concrete planter has been leeching calcium carbonate into the soil in which the lilies are planted. Which got me thinking about the building debris Shackleford has in his house. You said those bags are labeled by location, yes?’

  ‘Yeah, and every location is a spot within the Coleton Creek community.’ He pulled out of the parking lot and on to the main road.

  ‘And does each bag contain concrete?’

  ‘Yes, along with nails, screws, bolts – typical construction stuff.’

  ‘Perfect. I think those bags contain building waste that Shackleford unearthed while trying to find the cause of the yellow spots and dying plants all around the neighborhood. The label on each bag denotes the location where that particular batch of waste was found.’

  ‘Wait a minute. You said “unearthed.” You think the builders’ scraps were buried?’

  ‘I do. I think the Knoblochs were looking to cut costs in any way possible, so instead of paying to have their trash disposed of properly, they buried it. That’s why the Knoblochs banned the residents from having gardens. They were afraid that, with a bit of digging, someone would discover their dirty secret.’

  ‘And that’s why it was only when the homeowners’ association reverted to the control of the residents that gardening was finally permitted,’ Reade surmised.

  ‘Precisely. It’s also why the Knoblochs pressured me to cancel the garden contest luncheon. If they could link Shackleford’s murder to the garden club and one of its members, they stood a better chance of changing Coleton Creek policy to once again prohibit gardening, thus preventing someone else digging up their dirty – quite literally – secret. What Mariette and Nathan didn’t count on, however, was the very thing that prompted Shackleford to dig in the first place: that alkaline from the debris they were trying to hide would eventually leech into the soil and taint anything growing near it.’

  ‘But what about Biscuit?’ Reade asked, prompting a yip as the dog on the backseat recognized his name. ‘Residents are willing to swear they saw him in their gardens.’

  Tish reached into the backseat to give Biscuit a reassuring head rub. ‘I’m sure residents did see Biscuit in their gardens, but what did they actually observe? A dog sniffing around their flowers and rolling on their lawns? I bet if you press those eyewitnesses, they didn’t see much of anything apart from a dog whose owner was too busy with other nocturnal pursuits to walk him. You know how tightknit communities work. All you need is one person to say they saw Biscuit tinkling on their tomato plants and before you know it there are Biscuit sightings everywhere – digging up delphiniums, provoking pet cats, pooping on petunias.’

  ‘So you don’t think Biscuit is responsible for any of that damage?’

  ‘I don’t. He was with us all last night and he never once misbehaved. I know that’s not a long period of time in which to cast a verdict, but it is long enough to spot something that’s supposedly an established and recurring pattern of behavior.’

  ‘I admit that your theory completely fits the situation. We found some landscaping receipts in Shackleford’s house. Just this spring, he had to have all the birch trees in his backyard replaced.’

  An excited Tish leaned forward in her seat. ‘Birches like acidic soil. They’d be the first to show the effects of alkaline poisoning. Did the paperwork say why the original trees were replaced?’

  The sheriff steered the car toward the entrance of Coleton Creek. ‘No, but it’s easy enough to call the landscaping company and find out.’

  ‘Also, give a call to local labs and garden centers. Jim Ainsley told me Shackleford had some yellow patches dug up from his lawn this July. I have a hunch he might have sent that yellow grass and the soil surrounding the debris he found out for analysis.’

  ‘You think he’s been gathering evidence?’

  ‘I do. Evidence that links the building practices at Coleton Creek with the dying plants.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Reade mused aloud. ‘I’ll contact Shackleford’s attorneys and see if he had made mention of filing a lawsuit.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Tish praised. ‘However, I wouldn’t expect to find much. Had Shackleford spoken to an attorney, that attorney would have been present at the meeting Susannah Hilton overheard. No, it’s more likely Shackleford went into that meeting to blackmail the Knoblochs.’

  ‘Blackmail them for cash?’

  ‘Cash. Property. Some other lurid yet lucrative agreement. Remember, this is a guy who got rich by defrauding sick people like Violet Abercrombie.’

  ‘How could I forget?’ Reade remarked.

  ‘Speaking of getting rich,’ Tish segued, ‘have you checked out Callie Collingsworth’s background?’

  ‘I got a brief bio on her, but nothing in-depth. She struck me as one of the few people here who didn’t mind Shackleford or his behavior.’

  ‘Callie Collingsworth might not have minded Shackleford’s behavior because she was getting something out of the relationship. She admitted yesterday that she’s to inherit Shackleford’s estate.’

  ‘So, Shackleford left her some money? There’s nothing illegal about that,’ Reade shrugged as he pulled to a stop outside Coleton Creek’s security gate and punched in a code.

  ‘On the surface, no, but according to Pepper Aviero, this is the third time Callie’s come into money. Both of her husbands died in unusual circumstances – the first while he was in bed with someone else, the second in a car crash.’

  ‘Are you suggesting she killed them and Shackleford?’

  ‘Not at all. What I am saying is that I can’t envision Sloane Shackleford leaving his vast fortune – including apartments in Paris and New York and a vacation villa in the Bahamas – to Callie Collingsworth. He didn’t even stand by Callie when she and Pepper Aviero confronted him in his kitchen the morning of the murder. No, Shackleford wouldn’t have made Callie or any other of his playmates the beneficiary of his will. Those women served one purpose in his world and it wasn’t to look after his properties and wealth.’

  ‘Then how did Callie end up being named in his will?’

  ‘Sounds as if you have yet another question for Shackleford’s attorney,’ Tish deferred.

  ‘Goody. Nothing I like more than talking to lawyers,’ Reade deadpanned as he pulled the car into the lifestyle-center parking lot. ‘Especially the lawyer of a sleazy insurance guy.’

  Tish smiled. ‘Job highlight, huh?’

  ‘One only rivaled by the time Enid Kemper called me to get Langhorne out of a tree.’

  ‘But Langhorne can fly.’

  ‘You know that. I know that. But try telling Enid Kemper that. She insisted I climb up a thirty-foot ladder to get the danged bird down from the top of the old magnolia in her front yard. No sooner had my foot reached the top rung than Langhorne flew down to Enid’s shoulder. Enid was pleased as punch. Brought Langhorne in for a bath so he could recover from the experience. Meanwhile, I was left to climb down that thirty-foot ladder by myself.’

  ‘Woof! That is a rough day. Still …’

  ‘Still … falling thirty feet might be preferable to dealing with a crooked insurance company shill. Hey, while I’m on the phone with Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe, I don’t mind looking after Biscuit for you.’

  ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly. I said I’d care for him until other arrangements can be made and I intend
to carry through on my promise.’

  ‘Don’t worry. You’ll get him back. But I don’t think he belongs in the kitchen when you’re putting together a luncheon for a hundred people.’

  ‘Well, I was going to set him up outside the kitchen, by the trash bins, like I did yesterday.’

  ‘That’s exactly why he should come with me. I’ve set up a marquee on the green across from Shackleford’s house to serve as our mobile headquarters during the case. Biscuit would have shade, grass, and lots of people around to make sure he’s fed, watered, and walked.’

  Tish sighed as she gazed at the dog in the backseat. ‘I feel as though I’m abandoning him.’

  ‘You’re not. Once the luncheon is over, he’s all yours again. Until a foster home comes through, that is.’

  As if to voice his opinion on the matter, Biscuit sat up and, leaning through the open plexi-glass partition between the front and back seats, licked the back of Reade’s head.

  ‘Can’t argue with that, can I?’ Tish laughed. ‘By the way, thanks, Clemson. For the ride, for taking Biscuit, for everything.’

  ‘Considering the progress you’ve made on this case, I’d say we’re more than even. Do you need a hand with the box in the trunk? I’d be happy to carry it in for you.’

  ‘Nope. I’m good, but thank you. Again.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll let you know what I find out about the Knoblochs and Collingsworth.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that.’ Tish exited the vehicle, and, with a wave to Biscuit, walked to the back of the car, opened the trunk, and removed the box of cooking paraphernalia before shutting the lid.

  Just like the day before, music emanated from the pool area, but today the mood of said music was far more relaxed. As Reade pulled out of the parking lot and waved goodbye, Tish let herself into the outdoor pool area through the tall cast-iron gate.

  She was surprised to discover Jules, dressed in a pair of turquoise shorts bearing embroidered palm trees and a white linen shirt unbuttoned to the waist, lying in one of the lifestyle center’s many lounge chairs. Beside him rested a short, salt-and-pepper-haired elderly woman in a vivid, hibiscus-printed muumuu.

  Both of them sported chilled eye masks on their faces and held a champagne flute of orange liquid in their hands.

  ‘Jules? What are you doing here?’ Tish asked.

  Jules removed his eye mask and blinked against the strong rays of the sun. ‘Tish? Is that you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m here to prep for the luncheon. At seven thirty. Just as we arranged. What are you doing by the pool?’

  ‘Trying to recover from Mrs Newman’s lethal mojitos with some cool compresses and mimosas.’

  ‘Wait a minute. You’re hung-over?’

  ‘Hung-over is such an ugly phrase. Mrs Wilkes and I prefer to say that we’re sorely in need of a restorative,’ Jules lilted.

  ‘That’s right, honey,’ Mrs Wilkes seconded.

  ‘Well, I’m afraid you’re going to need to find another place to restore, Jules. With all the trouble I’ve had with the Knoblochs, I really can’t afford to have you seen hanging out poolside while you’re working for me, even if you are Mrs Wilkes’s guest. It’s unprofessional.’

  ‘Oh, but Julian’s more than a guest,’ Mrs Wilkes argued.

  ‘That’s right,’ Jules chimed in. ‘Tomorrow, we’re seeing Susannah Hilton about my resident permit.’

  Tish couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Resident permit?’

  ‘Yes, as soon as my lease is up at the end of the month, I’m moving in with Mrs Wilkes.’

  Tish’s eyes scanned back and forth between Jules and Mrs Wilkes to see if a trace of a smile crossed their lips, but the pair remained stony-faced. ‘Jules, may I speak with you inside, please?’

  ‘Of course.’ Leaving his drink on the table between his lounge chair and Mrs Wilkes’s, he followed Tish into the lifestyle center.

  Finally able to see Tish and the bandage on her hand and the abrasions on her chin, Jules drew a hand to his mouth and let out a yelp. ‘Oh my goodness. What happened to you?’

  ‘Someone broke the windows on my car and I bumped my chin on the ground while chasing after them.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Jules gasped. ‘Are you OK? Should I try to call someone in to cover for you? Or contact Susannah to cancel?’

  ‘I’m fine, Jules. I’ll be OK once I start cooking. Today’s luncheon needs to go ahead as planned.’

  ‘I just can’t believe someone would vandalize your car like that. Who would do such a thing?’

  ‘I have no idea, but Reade is on the case.’

  ‘Good. If I can do anything at all to make this day easier for you, you’ve got it.’

  ‘You can, actually. For starters, how about you tell me about this whole residence thing?’

  Jules was matter-of-fact. ‘Simple. I’m moving in with Mrs Wilkes.’

  ‘What? You’re shacking up with some – some – how old is Mrs Wilkes, anyway?’

  ‘Eighty-three next month.’

  ‘You’re shacking up with some octogenarian? How? Why? You haven’t been kicked out of your place, have you?’

  ‘No, I haven’t been kicked out. It’s just that Mrs Wilkes has a big house with two guest rooms and she loves to cook. All the ladies at Mahjong love to cook, actually. You should join us next time to swap recipes.’ Jules took a deep breath. ‘Anyway, Mrs Wilkes’s children rarely come to visit. I think they’ve seen her twice in ten years. So, last night, after dinner, it was suggested that she rent out part of her house to some bachelor who enjoys home cooking and can help her with household repairs and give her a ride to doctor appointments. She was reluctant at first, but after a few more mojitos and a couple of rounds of Mahjong, she grew to love the idea and so … voilà! That lucky bachelor is me.’

  ‘Jules, have you lost whatever sense you were born with? You just met this woman.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I’m putting off moving in until the end of the month. It gives us time to get to know each other better.’

  Tish couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing. ‘But, Jules, this makes no sense at all. You’re an attractive single guy. What if you meet someone? What if you think he’s the one? You can’t just bring Mr Right home to Mrs Wilkes’s house. That would be like bringing him to meet your mother.’

  ‘Tish, I’m forty-one years of age. I’ve spent the last twenty-five years hunting for Mr Right. I can’t keep putting life on hold just in case he shows up. If I can’t find myself a sugar daddy, then I’m quite content to settle down with a sugar mama.’

  ‘A sugar mama? You’ve become a gigolo.’

  ‘Not a gigolo,’ Jules corrected. ‘More like a rent-a-son.’

  ‘Oh, that makes it so much better,’ Tish mocked. ‘You’ve done some weird things in your time, Julian Jefferson Davis, but this might just be the craziest.’

  ‘Or the smartest,’ he challenged. ‘Think about it. Mrs Wilkes has someone to cook for and help her out with things. I get all that fine Southern cooking and we both get companionship.’

  ‘Is that what this is all about? Loneliness?’

  Jules shrugged and looked off into the distance. ‘I just feel as though time is running out for me and I need to start making some decisions.’

  ‘Well, moving to a retirement community isn’t going to help with the feeling that time is getting short,’ Tish reasoned.

  ‘Just this Friday, you yourself pointed out that we’re only a few years in age behind the residents here.’

  ‘The sixty-year-old residents, not the eighty-three-year-old ones. Look, Jules, I need to get cooking if I’m going to be ready by noon, but I want to discuss this further with you.’

  ‘There’s nothing else to discuss. I’ve told you everything you need to know.’

  ‘OK, then, can you at least promise me you won’t make a final decision regarding Mrs Wilkes until after this weekend?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Jules, you’re being impossible. During an evening
of heavy Southern food and mojitos, you and an elderly woman made the choice to cohabitate. That’s not a valid life decision – it’s an episode of The Golden Girls.’

  ‘And here you criticized me for my Cocoon comment. Now look who’s being ageist.’

  ‘I’m not ageist. I’m exhausted,’ she shouted. ‘I spent last night in a two-bedroom apartment occupied by six people and a dog. I had to reprimand my best friend’s son for coming home late and drunk. The windows of my car have been smashed. I was pushed to the ground when I tried to pursue the perpetrator. I had to call Clemson Reade on the sly to report the incident so that I didn’t wake the entire house. And this morning I had to hitch a ride with him to get here.’

  ‘Sheriff Reade?’ Jules’s eyes grew wide. ‘Reade was at your place all night? Hot!’

  ‘Ugh, Jules. No. Reade was not one of the six people in the apartment.’

  ‘Sorry, I just thought there might be a fun reason you were exhausted.’

  ‘No, there isn’t a fun reason. Jules, you know I love you and I’d do anything to help you, just as you’d do anything to help me. However, if you could kindly reschedule your existential crisis for a day when I’ve gotten more than four hours’ sleep, haven’t been assaulted, and don’t have one hundred mouths to feed by noon, I’d greatly appreciate it.’

  Jules nodded. ‘I understand. I’ll tell Mrs Wilkes I need more time to decide. I’m sorry if I’ve been selfish.’

  Tish put the box down on the tiled floor and embraced her friend. ‘You haven’t been selfish. We all reach a point where we feel the need to step back and reassess our lives. As your friend, it’s my job to make sure you think things through properly and don’t make a terrible mistake.’

  ‘I feel the same responsibility toward you.’ Jules squeezed her tight. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you last night. Although you did have Sheriff Reade. Smoldering, spiky-haired Sheriff Reade …’

  ‘Jules,’ Tish reprimanded as she pushed him away.

  ‘Sorry, too many of those broody BBC romances.’ He picked up the box of cooking supplies and walked in the direction of the kitchen. ‘So, did I miss anything else last night?’