by CeeCee James
“How did you know I was going to be at the Heritage Dispensary?” I was impressed with those deduction skills of his. He was smarter than I’d given him credit for.
He rolled his eyes. “You told me. Remember. ‘Hey, I’m going to go to the dispensary and check out the jewelry stuff.’ I was on my way to see what you dug up. I heard gunshots, and then you burst out the door like you’d been blown out of a cannon. Now you know what I know.”
“Are they going to be okay?” I dipped a shoulder toward the other ambulances.
“Yeah, but you should be more worried about the owner.”
“I am! Is she okay? Where is she?” I stood on tiptoes, searching.
“She’s talking to Detective Simpson over there. She has quite a story.”
My head swiveled back to him. “What happened? What did she say?”
“That there is Mrs. Lavender.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
He held up his hand. “That’s her name. Scout’s honor. She’s the manager here at the dispensary. Jeffry came in all masked up and tied her up. Then he let Celeste in.”
“What was she looking for?”
“She was looking for a credit card transaction. Specifically for one roller ball necklace with a top like you found. They destroyed the computer in the back room, which wasn’t smart. The bank has all the transaction information. And Mrs. Lavender is prepared to testify.”
“That Celeste bought the necklace? And killed Ian Stuber with a topical oil.”
Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes. “Yeah. How did you know?”
“I didn’t know, not really. I suspected, but I wasn’t sure. But seeing her tonight obviously was the hammer to make the last piece fit in the puzzle.”
“You use a hammer when you’re putting together puzzles? Geez, that’s harsh.”
Obviously, he was hurting too much to be nice. I remembered something else. “Did you get their phones?”
“Officer Daniels has them. So you think those two were a couple?”
I shook my head. “No. Celeste wasn’t in love with Jeffry. Jasmine was.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? And how did you come up with that?”
“You see, it started with the fact that Ian was never home. Celeste felt the need to inform me of that when I first met her. She didn’t like him much.”
“Later, I found out that Jeffry was their gardener, and everyone in the neighborhood liked him. He spent a lot of time at Jasmine’s place. They were lovers.”
“Keep it coming, Hollywood. I like this movie you’re spinning.”
I ignored him. He was probably delirious from pain. “His truck showed up outside my house right after I’d asked Jasmine about the necklace. I knew he was a local because my neighbor recognized him as well. She just couldn’t remember his name. And later when I saw Marla Springfield, she said people had been talking in the restaurant about how I needed to butt my nose out of other’s businesses. We need to ask her but I’m willing to bet one of those people was Jeffry.”
“So, all that has to do with Jasmine. Why is Celeste involved?”
“Jasmine was weak. Celeste said it herself. Jasmine never stood up for herself. She didn’t want to go to New York with Ian. She wanted to stay at her house and with Jeffry. But she wouldn’t get a divorce. In fact, she told Ian that she was pregnant. Ian insisted it couldn’t possibly be his. That proved to me that she really was weak like Celeste said, resigned to stay in a marriage that she herself termed “a prison sentence,” even going so far as to pass a baby off on Ian that wasn’t his.”
“Ian knew about Jeffry. I bet he was probably planning his own revenge himself. Marla Springfield, from the diner, told me that she overheard a horrid conversation between Gordon and Ian. Gordon was explicit that he could send the gardener back in a box if he gave Ian any more trouble. From what I hear, Gordon’s got connections.”
“Yes, he does. Go on.” Officer Carlson gruffly pressed.
“So, Celeste saw herself as Jasmine’s protector. It wasn’t hard. She already hated Ian, and it probably seemed like a simple solution that, in killing him, Jasmine would be free to live in her house and be free to be with Jeffry. After all, Celeste told me herself that she always helped Jasmine with bullies.
The plan was simple. Celeste knew Ian had indigestion. She took classes on essential oils and knew how to use the right carrier oil. She had Jasmine giving him supplements and oils to help.”
“Those are made to help.”
“Right, so to make it toxic, Celeste had to get a hold of a poison. Something so vile, it would kill nearly instantly. But that it would look like a heart attack. She must have talked it over with Jeffry. That’s when he told her that he had smuggled back mushrooms from China. Specifically, Little Whites.”
I waited to see if that would sink in. Officer Carlson had the amazing gift of keeping his expressions locked tight behind a stone face. He was giving me that stony look now, although it did appear a tad annoyed.
Hurriedly, I continued. “So the day that Ian died, he used one of the oils on his neck. It was in a roller ball. He must have collapsed nearly instantly, losing the cap. Celeste got rid of the bottle, but couldn’t find the other piece.”
“So Jasmine is innocent.”
“I think she might be. Both Celeste and Jeffry killed Ian for Jasmine. One out of family loyalty, and one maybe out of love. Poor thing. Now Jasmine has nothing left but her home.”
“That’s a big story. Could be a bunch of hot air, you know,” he said.
I shrugged. I might have some details wrong, but my gut feeling told me I was pretty close.
Officer Carlson didn’t get a chance to respond. The paramedics came in and gently nudged me to one side.
“Come on, Champ. Time to get that bullet out,” One of them said, as they wheeled the stretcher to the back of the ambulance. Officer Carlson grimaced as they collapsed the front legs and loaded him into the ambulance with a bump.
I peeked inside. “Get better soon!”
“We’ll talk later!” He gave me a cute grin and they shut the doors.
Wait. Did I just think that? Gah!
Shaking it off, I went over to the police officer guarding the store entrance to see about getting my shoes back.
Chapter 26
The next day, my phone rang off the hook with calls from news reporters. I wanted to keep my name out of the media as much as possible, and after a few “no comments,” I put my phone on silent.
I did need to get ready though. Uncle Chris had sent a message asking for a Flamingo Realty meeting for lunch. He wanted to meet at a small pub, but I talked him into moving the meeting to Springfield Diner. Kari was right. Their bacon burger was to die for.
And I had worked up an appetite. I’d spent a good hour that morning talking with Dad. He was less than reassured about the events from the night before, even when I told him I was fine. I may have down-played the actual gunfire a bit, so he wouldn’t worry. Our call ended with him still dubious about my move to Pennsylvania and a few bribes to try and get me to move back. When I was adamant about staying here, he’d sighed and said he was going to look into a plane ticket to visit me soon.
Honestly, my heart was singing after I’d hung up with him. He was finally, finally coming out after all these years. My hope of getting the family back together was this close. I could feel it.
Quickly, I finished getting ready, and then grabbed my purse and keys. After skirting around the flooring boxes—good grief, what had I gotten myself into?—I jogged out to the car.
As I was backing out, my phone dinged with a text. I checked it really quick in case it was Uncle Chris.
It was from Officer Carlson—Have a second? Call me.
I hit dial and put the call through the car’s speakers. “How are you?” I asked, when he answered.
“Getting out of here today.”
“Oh, that’s great!”
“Yeah, like I said, it was just
a nick. Anyway, first things first. We tracked down the phone call that Ian was on during the surprise party. Two guesses on who it was, and I’ll tell you right now, it wasn’t his brother.”
“It was Jeffry.”
He growled. “How did you know? Do we have a leak?”
I shook my head. “It had to be him. Ian said he’d kill him. Very few emotions cause that kind of hatred to come through a person’s voice, but talking to someone your spouse is cheating on you with will do it every time.”
“And you don’t wonder what the extortion part was?”
“What was it?”
“Jeffry wanted money to leave Jasmine alone. Otherwise, he was going to follow them to New York City.”
“How do you know that?”
“Celeste and Jeffry gave a full confession. In fact, Celeste said, and I quote, ‘I just wanted Jasmine to live her best life. Sometimes people need a little nudge to get there.’ Jeffry’s wasn’t so saintly, and had more to do with money, sadly.”
“What about the note I found at the funeral?”
“It was from Celeste to Jeffry, to remind him to watch his Ps and Qs. He was getting a little antsy when Ian’s death got ruled a murder. The Little White poison he’d used was supposed to mimic a heart attack. He never suspected it would be identified as the cause of death. He was freaking out because he’d bragged to more than a few people when he got back from China that he’d smuggled in the mushroom, and was afraid someone would put it together.”
I smiled. Say it, Officer Carlson. Someone like me.
He wouldn’t though, and I wouldn’t bring it up either. After all, if I hadn’t renewed my license on the day I had, and run into the Valentines, I never would have learned that information. “Wow, so it’s over then.”
“It’s over. Now I don’t want to be hearing from you for a long time. At least about something like this. If something else comes up, maybe we’ll talk.”
I laughed, and we hung up. As I turned onto Main Street, I did puzzle for a second over what he meant by his last line.
Yellow police tape distracted me. Down at the corner, Heritage Dispensary was still closed with the investigation. A shiver ran through me, remembering the events of yesterday. It felt like a lifetime ago. I did want to go in there when life had mellowed out. I’d like a chance to introduce myself to Mrs. Lavender under better circumstances.
The red-and-white awning of the Springfield Diner cheered me up considerably, though, and with visions of a bacon burger in mind, I parked and walked into the restaurant. It only took me a second to spot Uncle Chris sitting at a round table near the window. Kari wasn’t there yet, apparently. Well, I wasn’t waiting for her before I ordered. I walked back there, smiling.
He looked up and saw me and I watched his face crumple into five different emotions. First, his eyes widened—fear. He swallowed and clenched his fists, and then he smiled, tight-lipped and fake.
I won’t lie, my steps faltered. Fear? Why would he look afraid at seeing me?
I swung my purse off my shoulder as I approached. “Hey, Uncle Chris,” I said, keeping my voice easy.
“Hi, Stella.” He stood up and waited until I sat, before sitting back down himself. He cleared his throat and took a drink from something he’d already been served from the bar.
“Gin and tonic,” he said, wiping his lip. “You want one?”
“It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” I asked. Alarms were ringing in my head.
“Hi, you little trouble maker,” Marla said with a smile. I glanced up, having not heard her approach. “You’ve got to keep a better eye on her,” she admonished Uncle Chris.
He grinned, a weak one, and nodded. What was up with him?
Marla turned back to me. “So did you ever thank that hot rod guy?”
Hot rod guy? I felt like I was caught in someone else’s conversation. “What do you mean?”
“When you were in here the other night.” Her dark eyes twinkled. “He must have seen you through the window there and parked that fancy car of his to pay for your dinner. Said that you looked like you’d had a hard day. Didn’t Tammy tell you?”
With so much else going on, I’d completely forgotten about my dinner being paid for by a mystery man. “Who was he?”
“Well, that was Richie Wilson. He owns Wilson Mechanics up the road. Moved most of his business out to his mom’s place, but he does good work. Yeah, he loves them hot rods. Just bought that purple Challenger the dealership had for sale. Boys and their toys.”
Uncle Chris nodded at me. “And girls too. She wanted that car.”
“Did you, now?” Marla nodded, studying me. “I think you better be thanking Richie then. Sounds like someone you should get to know.” She winked.
I half-heartedly smiled back. Since I’d entered the restaurant, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was on unstable ground.
We gave Marla our order. It was weird. Uncle Chris hemmed and hawed like he was reluctant for her to go. So when the silence descended between us after she left, I wasn’t surprised.
He sighed deeply, as though his very soul were groaning.
I slowly shook my head. My hands squeezed together under the table.
“Kari’s not coming. I needed to talk with you,” he murmured.
My jaw clenched. There’d been a point when I’d wanted to hear what he had to say, but now I wasn’t so sure. My life was finally getting stable, getting back to a place where I’d wanted to be for a long, long time.
And I knew. I knew that what he had to say was going to blow all that up. My stomach rolled over in revolt. Everything I’d worked so hard for these last few months hung in the balance like the bead of sweat on his upper lip.
“Please…” I said, shaking my head.
“Stella,” he answered. “I’ve needed to have this talk with you for a long, long time. I’ve been afraid.”
“Uncle Chris, I don’t need to know anything. I’m fine just where we are. You don’t need to talk with me about anything, especially if it makes you afraid. I—”
“Stella!” His voice was stern as he cut me off. But his red-rimmed eyes belied the sternness. He took another sip. “You sure you don’t want a drink, Stella?”
I shook my head.
“You’re going to need it,” he said. He waved his arm to beckon the waitress. She walked over with a smile, not realizing a disaster was about to happen.
“What can I get you?” she asked, setting a glass of water before me.
“Another gin and tonic for me. And for her—”
“Nothing,” I muttered, feeling sick.
“She’d like a shot of brandy.”
“My, my,” she said, her eyebrows lifting with admiration. She walked away.
“Uncle Chris—” I started.
“Wait,” he said. “Wait until she brings the brandy.”
“I’m not going to drink it,” I answered, crossing my arms. “I’m not sure what this is about. If you’re so determined, you should just spill it.”
He waved a finger at me and stared desperately after the waitress. A moment later, she walked back with the two glasses on a tray. He watched her approach like a man watching the prison trolley roll in with his last meal.
“Here you go,” the waitress said, setting the drinks down. “Can I get you something else?”
“Maybe later.” He quickly took the last swig before handing her the empty glass. Then he clutched the new drink with both hands.
I stared at my shot glass before me, the fumes of the alcohol rising up. Then I raised my gaze to meet his. This time I didn’t say anything. I just waited.
“Stella, I knew your mom.”
I nodded. I suspected he did. What was so startling about that? Then my eyes widened. What was he going to say next?
“I know where she is.”
I swallowed, fear freezing me from speaking.
“You’re not going to like it. You’re going to be very angry with me. It’s the
real reason your dad left all those years ago. And I’m sorry, honey. You’re going to hate your grandfather, Oscar as well.”
“Why?” I whispered.
Because he’s the one that took her from us. From you.”
Slowly, he unveiled a story I never wanted to hear. Each word tore my family away. My father. My uncle. Oscar. My mother. When he was finished, I was left orphaned, abandoned, and betrayed. And I never wanted to see any of them again. I jerked back from the table, the chair scraping harshly against the floor, and I ran out of the restaurant with Uncle Chris calling helplessly after me.
I drove away from the restaurant in a sweat, in a panic. I don’t remember how the conversation ended, or where I was going. All that was running through my mind was Uncle Chris’s face and this horrible, gut-wrenching feeling of loss and betrayal. My mother was alive, but in prison, most likely for life. She’d been a Pit Lizzard, a Nascar groupie that hung around at the race track. My uncle had met her first. They’d only been friends—or so he claimed. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. But he admitted, his face pasty white as he spoke, that he’d gotten her addicted to drugs.
Later, she fell in love with my dad. Dad had helped her clean up her life, and they had a little family. She had me. And then my uncle lured her back to one more party.
I don’t know all the details. I couldn’t care less at this point. I know it had something to do with a drug dealer that Oscar had been investigating. What mattered was that something horrific went down, and my mother had been sent to prison for murder.
Oscar had taken her away.
I needed to talk to someone, but who? My friends from back home never heard me talk about my mom. They wouldn’t understand. Kari had a life of her own, and honestly knew Uncle Chris better than me. I could never go to her.
And Oscar….hot tears coursed down my face. How many times had he comforted me, pretended he’d cared, when, all along, he’d known what he’d done.
The rain lashed against the windshield. Three men in my life stole something from me. My father stole the memory of my mother. My uncle set the temptation in place to draw her away. And my Grandfather put her in prison.