Vic patted his wife’s arm. “My poor, poor sugarplum.”
“Girls, we have to figure out what happened to Kat and Margaret. There is someone going around killing people in Aspen Falls. No one is safe until we find out who it is and bring him to justice!” said Gwyn.
“We need to make sense of it all,” agreed Phyllis. “But I don’t even know where to start!”
“Well, what do we know?” asked Gwyn. “I think that’s where we start. We put together the pieces of the puzzle that we have.”
Char nodded and leaned forward. “Gwyn’s right. Okay. We know that the person in question is a man, and he wore a black hooded robe in both murders.”
“And we know that he has our spell book,” Loni chimed in as she came back with a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water. She handed both to Gwyn.
“Right,” agreed Phyllis. “He’s got our book. So we find our book, and we find our murderer.”
“We also know that Margaret was killed after the festival, sometime between twelve thirty and one o’clock,” said Gwyn.
“That’s going to be an important clue,” said Phyllis nodding. “If we can come up with a list of suspects who had a motive to hurt both women, then we’ll be able to narrow down that list if they have alibis.”
Vic hopped up on Char’s lap. “Not so much. That’s a bad time of day for an alibi. What would all of our alibis be?”
“We were partying together last night at that time,” said Char with a groan.
“Yes, but the rest of Aspen Falls was probably at home sleeping,” he said.
“Vic’s right. That doesn’t make for a very strong alibi for anyone. If we go nosing around, how are we supposed to believe anyone is telling us the truth?” asked Phyllis.
“Well, we’ve got the world’s best lie detector test sleeping on the chair right there,” said Gwyn, looking at her mother.
“This is true,” agreed Char with a nod. “Now we just need a suspects list. Who would want both of those women dead?”
“I don’t know, but Margaret was found dead in her flower bed, and so was Kat. Is that coincidence, or is it the killer’s calling card?” asked Gwyn.
“You think it’s his calling card?” asked Char, hugging Vic to her chest. The thought of there being a killer who left a calling card in Aspen Falls made her pulse go faster.
“Don’t you think it would be too coincidental not to be?”
Char and Vic exchanged a knowing look. She knew he was worried for her safety. After hearing that Margaret had been killed, she had to admit that she was now worried about all of their safety. “I suppose if you look at it like that. Both women belonged to the same gardening club.”
“Maybe we need to look at the members of the club, then,” suggested Phyllis, taking the water and ibuprofen Gwyn handed her.
“I think we start with the most obvious member, Boomer Wallace,” said Char.
“I hate to say it, but he didn’t seem very upset about Kat’s death,” said Vic.
“Agreed. We definitely need to pay him a visit. Anyone know where he works?” asked Gwyn.
Char nodded. “He owns Wallace Garden Supply, on the east edge of town.”
Phyllis pulled herself to her feet. “Well, what are we waiting for? I think that’s where we start our investigation!”
“Mom, wake up,” said Gwyn, patting Hazel’s leg. “We need a mind reader!”
Hazel jerked awake. “What?”
“We need a mind reader!” she repeated.
“I was dreaming that Walter Cronkite invited me out for a nightcap. You woke me up for that?” she snapped.
“You told us to wake you up when it was time to leave!”
“I also told you never to interrupt your mother when she’s having a good time! I think I was just about to get lucky!”
Wallace Gardening Supply didn’t just sell rakes, hoes, and garden hoses. It also had an enormous greenhouse in back full of interesting hybrid flowering shrubs, antique perennials, and ornamental trees. The young man working the counter had pointed the women to the greenhouse, and they found Boomer with his hands buried in the soil of an obscure species of an azalea plant that he was transplanting.
“Boomer, hello,” said Char from behind him.
On his hands and knees, Boomer casually looked back at the women. “Hello. Rodney at the counter will assist you with all your gardening supply needs.”
“Oh, we didn’t come to shop, we came to see you!” said Phyllis pointedly.
Boomer’s shoulders slumped. He rocked back on his toes and wiped the black soil from his big hands into the azalea pot. Without standing, he peered up at the women.
“How may I help you?” he asked, more than a little perturbed to have been interrupted.
“Do you remember us?” asked Gwyn. “We met at the festival last night.”
Boomer narrowed his eyes and then grudgingly nodded his head. “Yes,” he said gruffly. “I remember. You’re friends of Katherine Lynde’s.”
Gwyn smiled at him pleasantly. “Yes.”
Char put Vic down on the gravel floor and took hold of his leash. “Unfortunately we’ve come bearing bad news.”
Boomer looked at them blankly but didn’t say anything.
“Do you know Margaret Sutton?” asked Phyllis.
Boomer nodded. “Of course I do. She’s in my gardening club.”
“Are you aware that she died in the wee hours of the morning?” asked Phyllis.
That made him lumber to his feet. “No, I hadn’t heard.” He pulled a shop rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands with it. “So Maggie’s dead? How’d she die?”
“We aren’t sure,” admitted Char. “The police are investigating. The downtown area is full of cops right now.”
“I’ve been in my greenhouse all morning. I hadn’t heard a peep about it. Well, that’s unfortunate. First Kat, now Maggie.”
“Yes,” agreed Char with a frown. “It is unfortunate. Such a kind woman taken, far too early.”
Boomer stuck the rag in his back pocket. “And next month is time to re-up their dues. Now the club will be short those funds.”
The women all exchanged shocked looks. How dare he be so flip over the death of both women!
“Mr. Wallace!” breathed Gwyn. “Another woman in Aspen Falls has died, and all you’re concerned about are the club fees that you’ll be missing out on?”
His squinty brown eyes widened. “The dues are one hundred dollars apiece! That shorts my club two hundred dollars! Now we’ll have to recruit new members or do some fundraisers to replace those funds. I already had plans for that money!”
“Well, it’s unfortunate that your mother never taught you not to count your chickens before they hatched!” snapped Gwyn.
“It’s also unfortunate his mother didn’t teach him empathy!” added Hazel, with her brows lowered.
Boomer crossed his arms across his chest. “I have a lot to do today, ladies. I’m sure you didn’t drive all the way out here just to tell me that Maggie Sutton met her maker. What do you want?”
“We want to know where you went last night after the festival,” said Hazel bluntly.
Boomer’s face twisted into a snarl. “I’m pretty sure it’s none of your business where I went after the festival. What’s it to you?”
“We’re just trying to understand why two women from your garden club were both found dead in their gardens in the last month,” said Phyllis. “It’s a bit coincidental, don’t you think?”
“I have no idea about that. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to get back to my Rhododendron vaseyi.” He turned his back to the women and squatted down.
With his back turned, the women stared down at Hazel. Had she been able to read anything from him? She shrugged.
Suddenly, Gwyn had an idea. She looked around her feet, searching for something that would work. Spotting a rock, she squatted down and scooped it up. When she was back on her feet, she handed Loni the rock and gave her a wink.
Loni seemed to know what to do. She held the rock in the palm of both hands out in front of herself. Gwyn closed her eyes, took a deep breath to center her energy, and then wiggled her fingers towards the rock. It bounced like a jumping bean in Loni’s hands, and then suddenly it began to turn. As it did, it transformed into the shape of a pot, and from the pot shot forth a crop of beautifully cupped rosettes on hardy green stems. The rose bush, with its oversized pale peach buds, made the women gasp. It was the most elegant flower any of them had ever seen.
“Mr. Wallace, perhaps I could persuade you to share with us where you were last night after the festival,” said Gwyn sweetly, plucking the pot from Loni’s hands.
Boomer stopped messing around in the dirt and let out a deep breath as he turned around. “I told you, it’s none of your business. I’m going to have to ask you ladies to…” He stopped when he caught sight of the plant in Gwyn’s hands. With a slack jaw, he rose to his feet, unable to take his eyes off of the plant. “Where did you get that?”
Gwyn gave him a little shrug and a casual tip of her head. “I thought you might like it.” When he didn’t answer immediately, she began to turn around. “But I guess not.”
Boomer caught her elbow gently with his hand. “Wait! That’s a Juliet rose! It’s exquisite!” he breathed.
Gwyn looked down at the flower in her hands. “Yes, isn’t it?” she replied wistfully. “I thought you might be interested in having it, but I guess not. Come on, girls. We should go. We don’t want to take any more of Mr. Wallace’s precious time.”
The women began to head towards the entrance of the greenhouse. Boomer chased after them. “Wait, wait, wait! I might have a few minutes to visit. What exactly is that you want to know?”
Gwyn feigned surprise as she stopped walking and turned around to face him. “We were just curious where you went after the festival.”
“My wife and I went to visit my mother,” he said. “We’d planned to take her to the festival with us, but she’s been sick, and we couldn’t bring her along.”
Gwyn looked back at the girls. She wasn’t sure what to say to that. The girls stared back at her blankly. They didn’t know how to respond either. Gwyn lifted a brow. “Your mother lives in town?”
He nodded but kept his eyes trained on the potted flower. “Yes, at The Village. My wife and I stayed for quite a while.”
Gwyn looked at Boomer with surprise. “Your mother lives at The Village?” she asked.
“Yes. Ellison Wallace.”
Surprise washed over Gwyn. She knew that name! “Ellie Wallace is your mother? I hadn’t put the names together. Of course. I wasn’t thinking. Ellie had wanted to go on the walk with us, but had to back out at the last minute.”
“You know Mom?” he asked, pulling his head back in surprise.
Gwyn nodded. “I just took the activities director position at The Village. My mother and I live there.”
“I see,” he said absentmindedly. He nodded towards the rose bush. “Where did you get this plant?”
Gwyn smiled at him coyly. “I have my sources.”
He reached his hands out slowly to take it from her hands. “I answered your question, now may I have the plant?”
Gwyn pulled the plant just out of his grasp. “One more question. Do you have any idea how Margaret Sutton died?”
He lowered his brows, casting shadows across his dark brown eyes. “I can honestly say that I have no idea.” He plucked the plant from her hands. “Thank you. With this plant, and with Katherine out of the running, I think I have a pretty good chance of winning the Aspen Falls Master Gardener award this year. No one around here has ever entered a Juliet rose into the event.”
Gwyn rolled her eyes and groaned. “Ugh, you’re welcome.”
“It was a pleasure, ladies. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an entire nursery to tend to.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wallace,” said Phyllis as they marched away.
Back in the car, Gwyn turned the key in the ignition and then all eyes turned to Hazel.
“Did he do it?” demanded Phyllis.
Hazel shrugged. “You asked if he had any idea how she died and he said he had no idea. I think that was the truth.”
“So he didn’t do it?” asked Gwyn.
Vic hopped up on Char’s lap. “I didn’t like how he phrased his answer.”
Char smiled at her husband. “You read my mind. Your question to him was vague, Gwynnie. You asked him if he knew how Margaret died. If he hit Margaret over the head with a shovel like Kat was killed, perhaps he doesn’t know what actually ended her. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t the one who whacked her.”
Gwyn frowned. She hadn’t thought about it like that. “So now what?”
After strapping Vic in over her lap, Char looked up at the women. “Well, considering the fact that I didn’t like how flip he was about both women’s deaths, I think we need to pay a little visit to Ellie Wallace.”
Gwyn put the car in reverse and backed out of her parking spot. “Say no more, I’m on my way!”
27
“Good morning, Gwyn,” chirped Arabella Struthers, the front desk clerk at The Village. “Hello, Hazel, I see you brought some friends with you this morning.”
Hazel tapped the floor with her cane. “I see you took your annoying pills again this morning.”
“Oh, Arabella,” said Gwyn with a pleading smile. “Please forgive Mother. That’s just her way of saying good morning.”
Arabella’s bright smile faded only slightly as she nodded. “No problem, Gwyn. Have a nice day, Hazel.”
“We’re off to visit Ellie Wallace,” said Gwyn as she breezed past.
Arabella’s eyes widened. “Oh, wait, Gwyn. Mrs. Wallace is sick. I’m afraid she caught a case of the sniffles.”
“Is she not allowed visitors?” asked Char.
“No, visitors are fine. I just wanted to warn you all, so you don’t catch it as well. We would hate for this little bug to get passed around The Village.”
Gwyn smiled at her. “No problem at all. Thank you for the heads-up, Arabella.”
“Glad to help,” she said. Then she looked down at Vic and plumped out her bottom lip. “And unfortunately that little fellow isn’t allowed past the lobby.”
Gwyn snapped her fingers. “Darn it! I should have known that. I’m so sorry, Char. I’m not up on all of the rules here at The Village just yet.”
Char nodded. “I understand. I think Vic and I will just wait outside, then.”
“I’m really sorry,” said Arabella.
Char smiled back at her. “Not a problem. It’s a beautiful day. We’ll just wait by the car, girls.”
“We’ll make it fast,” promised Phyllis as she walked towards the residents’ living quarters.
“Have a nice day, ladies,” said Arabella, her voice resuming its usual chirpy tone.
Char waved goodbye to the women as Phyllis and the rest of the crew followed Gwyn out of the lobby and towards Ellie’s room.
“You as well,” called Gwyn with a little wave.
“She’s sure perky,” Phyllis whispered to the girls as they walked down the long corridor.
Gwyn nodded. “I just love Arabella.”
“I don’t,” snapped Hazel. “When a woman’s personality is as perky as her breasts, something about her just rubs me the wrong way.”
“If that’s the case, you shouldn’t rub anyone the wrong way,” quipped Loni, overtly eyeing Hazel’s sagging chest.
Phyllis giggled.
“Oh, no, she rubs everyone the wrong way,” sighed Gwyn with a nod. “I only wish her breasts were perkier.”
Hazel laughed. “He-he. I haven’t heard any complaints from the old perverts around here.”
Gwyn swatted gently at her mother as they continued down the hallway and rounded a corner. A man in black was just coming out of Ellie’s apartment.
“Father Donovan!” said Phyllis in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, hello, l
adies. I was just visiting a sick resident,” he said.
Hazel eyed the man with venom-laced daggers in her eyes. After his unkind words about witches the day before, she didn’t have much interest in speaking to the man.
“That’s Ellie Wallace’s room,” said Gwyn. “Was Ellie the one you were visiting last night when we saw you before the festival?”
Father Donovan turned to look back at the door he’d just exited. “Indeed she was,” he said. “The poor thing has a terrible bout of pneumonia and is feeling just miserable.”
Gwyn grimaced. The thought of Ellie feeling miserable made her feel bad. She also worried about her own mother and wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t go in the room lest she catch a virus. “She isn’t any better today?”
He shook his head, “No, I’m afraid not.” He gave a tight smile to the small group and headed towards the exit. “Well, I better be going. I have a lot of people to visit today. You ladies have a nice day.”
“Oh, Father Donovan. How was your dinner last night?” asked Gwyn.
He stopped walking midway down the hall and turned back around, separating their group in half. “Oh, it was quite lovely, thank you for asking,” he said. “I got an opportunity to see the lights at the Falls. The weather was just perfect for the event.”
“Oh, I guess I assumed you’d miss the festival since you were going to supper with that family.”
He nodded. “They just lived a few blocks away from the event, so after dinner, we walked over.”
Loni scratched her face beneath her veil. “What did you do after that?”
He looked curiously at the short, heavily disguised woman. “Oh, I went home after that.”
“Were you alone?” she asked bluntly.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, yes, of course. I live alone. Why?”
“Ignore our friend,” said Gwyn with a fake smile as she elbowed Loni in the ribs. “She’s not from this country and isn’t familiar with the concept of manners.”
“Oh, I understand,” said Father Donovan with a stilted bow. “Welcome to America. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
That Old Witch!: The Coffee Coven's Cozy Capers: Book 1 Page 20