“Thanks I’ll do that,” he said as he squeezed my hand, and then turned to walk back to his truck.
I got in my car and drove away thinking I would Google Mr. Florez when I arrived home or I wouldn’t sleep a wink that night.
*****
Sure enough, Trevor was right. I found several online articles detailing the strange death of a Mrs. Enid Florez. Mrs. Florez died of a heart attack, but her family questioned her untimely death, saying she herself had become frightened of her husband, even at the point of asking to purchase a gun. One of the interviews with Mrs. Florez’s brother said he himself wondered if Mr. F. hadn’t injected her with something to cause the heart attack. It was all speculation of course and charges were never filed. But I could see how Trevor might be suspicious.
The next day was Sunday and although I normally didn’t open the Shoppe, I decided to go down anyway and tidy up. Stormi called and I told her I was on my way and she said she’d meet me there. I filled her in on what I learned about Mr. Florez.
“Hmmm, that is odd to say the least,” Stormi mused. “I heard he was taken in for another round of questioning at the police station.”
“Really? Wow, I still can’t see what he’d get out of it though. Maybe if they were married and there was some large insurance policy.”
There was a knock on my Shoppe door and a woman with two small children looked in. I decided to go ahead and open the Shoppe since people seemed to be out and about today wanting ice cream it seemed. I think everyone was still abuzz with what happened to Miss Greta and wanted to compare notes.
Stormi and I heard quite a few tall tales, but nothing that seemed plausible. However, it seemed almost the entire town had now heard about Mr. Florez’s first wife. Mr. Jenkins was also high on the list now that word slipped out about his rendezvous with Miss Greta. Unless he was jealous, I still couldn’t see the connection. Trixie was another one that didn’t make sense as a suspect. What did she have to gain? I always came back to that question with all my suspects. Whoever killed her had to gain something in return, whether it was money or if she was simply in the way.
So that brought me back to Trixie. Was Greta in the way of her and Mr. Florez? First, I’m still not sure why Mr. Florez wasn’t with Trixie in the first place. They seemed better suited for one another. But maybe Trixie wanted Greta out of the way, so she could move in. After that hug between Trixie and Mr. Florez. I was beginning to wonder. My head was spinning trying to figure it all out.
Paige and Sam walked into the Shoppe later in the day. “What are you doing open?” Paige asked.
“Oh, I came in to tidy up the place and customers kept wanting ice cream so I obliged,” I said as I carried a barrel of cookie dough ice cream back to the big freezer.
“So have you heard the news?” Sam asked sitting down at one of the tables.
“What news?” Stormi asked.
“They charged Mr. Florez with Miss Greta’s murder,” Paige answered.
“You’re kidding,” I stammered. “Have they got evidence?”
“Evidently they found a bag of peanut dust and the epi pen in his car. He’s claiming he was framed, but his past may be catching up with him,” Paige explained.
“You think they’re rushing to judgment?” I asked.
“Well if they found the murder weapon in his car it’s hard to dispute that,” Stormi said as she swept the floor.
“Yeah but anyone could have deposited those items in his car,” Paige replied.
“I agree,” I said. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“But what about his first wife’s suspicious death?” Stormi asked.
“He was never charged,” Paige answered.
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t do it,” Stormi replied.
“But if he didn’t do it, this makes him the perfect scapegoat for this crime. Someone could be setting him up,” I said. Suddenly I thought of Trevor stopping by last night. He wanted to talk about Mr. Florez and the mystery of his first wife. It seemed that was the only reason he stopped to talk, was about Mr. Florez. My heart beat faster and my mouth grew dry.
“What about Trevor? Would he have anything to gain?” I asked.
“Trevor…no!” Stormi answered. “I’m sure he didn’t have anything to do with this. The police have questioned him as well as Mr. Florez.”
“But why did he stop by here last night to tell me about Mr. Florez,” I said suspiciously. “Seems odd to me.”
“Yes that is strange,” Paige agreed.
“You two are whacked,” Stormi said as she walked to the back.
“I heard Miss Trixie’s daughter is here from Atlanta,” Sam said.
“She actually came in last evening,” Paige explained. “She comes for the festival every year but she was late because of work. I’m sure Trixie is glad she’s here now.”
“I’d like to meet her before she heads back to Atlanta,” I said.
“I’m sure she’ll stay through the funeral,” Paige answered. “She’s very nice, just like Trixie.”
The next few days were a blur with the viewing and burial of Miss Greta. I met Trixie’s daughter Eileen at the visitation. She was a younger version of Trixie but with the same smile and lovely attitude. Trixie was holding up pretty good, although she’d often walk over and look at Greta lying in the casket. I think she was missing her friend.
Mr. Florez’s son arrived from Nashville and posted bail for his father. Mr. F. didn’t come to the visitation, but it was rumored the funeral home allowed him to stop in after everyone else left and pay his respects. I also saw him standing several yards away at the burial. I felt sorry for him and I didn’t think he killed Greta. But if it wasn’t him, who was it? I know it wasn’t my job to figure it out, but the amateur sleuth in me was running on overdrive. Paige, Stormi and I would go over clues but none of us could agree. Paige thought it was Trevor. She had a gut instinct that something was hinky with him.
“Maybe he’s was the sole beneficiary of Greta’s will since she didn’t have any children,” Paige said one evening after closing. “Perhaps he wanted to get rid of her before she married Mr. Florez.”
“That’s reaching,” Stormi declared. “I think Mr. Jenkins had enough of all the sneaking around and decided to get rid of her.”
“But what does that benefit him?” I asked. “I can see him being pissed at her, but enough to kill her….I don’t know.”
“And there’s always Trixie,” Paige fretted. “That’s one suspect I don’t want to entertain, but she did have access to the flowers.”
“Not necessarily,” I disagreed. “If they were on the outs after the beauty shop blowup, she likely wouldn’t have access to the flowers or her purse.”
“That’s true,” Paige agreed. “Now I feel better.”
We were standing in the back of the store when I heard the front door of the Shoppe tinkle. I walked out and saw Trixie’s daughter Eileen who I’d met at Greta’s visitation.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Are you closed for the evening?”
“Yes we are,” I answered. “I forgot to change my sign, but I can get something for you.”
“Oh no,” Eileen answered. “I simply wanted to order a cake for my mother. Help cheer her up. She loves your ice cream so much and I thought an ice cream cake would be just the thing.”
“Of course,” I said as I retrieved my pen and paper. “How is your mother?”
“She’s sad of course, but I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Eileen replied.
“So what kind of ice cream and cake would you like to order?” I asked as Paige walked into the store from the back.
“Oh Eileen, how is your mother doing?” She asked.
Eileen reiterated what she told me and then said she planned to take her mother back to Atlanta with her to stay.
“Oh really,” Paige exclaimed. “I know you must miss your mother but I hate to lose her smiling face around here.”
“She doesn’t want to leave either
, but I think it’s for the best,” Eileen replied. “She never wanted to leave because of Greta, which was beyond my comprehension…especially the way she treated my mother.”
“I always wondered why they were such good friends,” Paige pondered. “They seemed like complete opposites and Trixie took a boatload of crap from Miss Greta. I guess I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“Well, you’re just stating a fact,” Eileen agreed. “Greta could be a pill.”
“What did your mother see in Miss Greta?” I asked. “She must have seen something we didn’t.”
“To tell you the truth I don’t know,” Eileen answered. “They were friends since high school and maybe it was too difficult for Mom to pull the plug on the relationship. Well, back to the ice cream cake. I would like chocolate almond ice cream and chocolate cake. Mom’s a chocoholic so that should get her out of her slump.”
I wrote down the order and told her it should be ready in a few days.
“Could I have it delivered?” Eileen asked. “I can go ahead and pay for the cake and delivery right now.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “But I won’t charge you for delivery. I’d be happy to bring it by.”
“That’s kind of you. So how much do I owe you?”
“That will be $15.62 with tax,” I said.
Eileen put her small purse on the counter and reached in to pull out her billfold. As she did so a small container fell out of her purse and onto the counter. The lid must have been loose because when it hit the counter the contents spilled onto the surface.
“Oh here, we can clean that up for you,” Paige announced as she grabbed several napkins.
Eileen didn’t say anything but was trying to scoop the contents back into the container as fast as possible, but it was impossible to get all of it since it had strewn across the counter. Paige took her napkin and scooted it through the fine dry substance, which was when we both got a strong whiff of peanuts. We both stopped what we were doing and looked up at Eileen who was looking at us. She then slowly dropped the container and reached into her jacket pocket where she pulled out a small handgun.
“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” she said calmly. “I never had a chance to dispose of it and then simply forgot it was in the bottom of my purse.”
“You killed Miss Greta?” Paige asked incredulously. “Why?”
“I was tired of the way she treated my mother,” she explained. “I never could stand her. All those years growing up hearing her snipe at my mother, and then Mom just laughing at her. Once I finally got myself established in Atlanta I begged Mom to come live with me, but she said she couldn’t leave Greta.”
Eileen was becoming agitated and started swinging the gun around as she talked.
“I mean I’m her daughter! Why would she choose Greta over me? In addition, Greta had two men on the leash, which she threw in my mother’s face all the time. It was insane!”
What was insane was this woman holding us at gunpoint while Greta’s murder weapon lay strewn across my counter. Under the counter Paige and I held hands, not sure what to do. We had to calm her down and reason with her.
“But Eileen, your mother stood up for herself the other day at the beauty shop,” I explained. “We heard she let Greta have it.”
“Yes, Mother has been crying about that. She now regrets their blowup since Greta’s dead and they never had the chance to mend fences. I swear she’s driving me crazy. That’s why I thought the cake would help.”
She was really losing it.
“But how did you do it?” I asked stalling for time and Eileen seemed to want to get this off her chest.
“I got to town early that day, although I told Mom I had to work and was coming in later. I knew like everyone else that Greta was allergic to peanuts so all I had to do was put some in her roses. She always smelled her damn roses so I knew it was my perfect foil.”
“But how did you get access to both the roses and her purse without her knowing?” Paige asked as she squeezed my hand.
“That wasn’t easy. I called Greta a few days prior and told her I was the sister of one of the judges. I told her that this judge wasn’t going to vote for her to win this year, but if she met with me, I could discuss how she might sway him. She was all ears. I told her we’d have to meet in hiding so as not to arouse suspicion and to bring her roses with her. We met in the parking lot of the old printing mill. I wore a wig and large sunglasses and told her it was to disguise myself in case anyone should drive by. I got into her car and then asked if she would drive us around a bit so we wouldn’t look suspicious sitting in the parking lot.”
“After driving for a bit I told her to stop at a convenience store and asked if she would go in and get me a coffee to go. I gave her the money and told her she could leave her purse in the car and she did. While she was in the store, I deposited the peanut dust into the roses and removed the epi pen from her purse. Thing is I figured she would smell the roses long before the contest at the festival. I could have figured she’d wait until she had an audience. Then I planted the evidence in Mr. Florez’s car, which he luckily left unlocked.”
As Eileen blathered on I felt something touch me on the back of my leg. I turned slightly and looked down and saw Stormi who had crawled out from the back and was now on the floor behind us. She motioned for us to get down, but I couldn’t get Paige’s attention without attracting Eileen’s too. While Eileen was ranting and not paying much attention to us, she wasn’t far enough away from the counter for me to signal Paige. So I did the only thing I knew to do. I grabbed Paige’s shoulders and pushed her down with me.
As we went down Stormi stood up and I saw her arm fly out. Then I heard a thud, a moan, and crash.
“Got her right between the eyes,” Stormi yelled as she raced around the counter.
“What the heck just happened?” Paige said as we both struggled back on our feet.
Then I heard the sirens and saw the red and white flashing lights as police cars surrounded my Shoppe. Before we could do anything, the police were in the Shoppe pointing their guns at the now unconscious Eileen. Seems that Stormi heard what was going on in the back and dialed 911. She told the operator to send the police and to listen on the other end. Of course these calls are recorded so the entire confession ended up on tape.
Then Stormi couldn’t wait any longer and decided to take matters into her own hands. She crawled along the floor armed with one of my stainless steel ice cream scoops, which she pitched into Eileen’s forehead.
It was all quite a spectacle and Paige and I, shaken from what just occurred, sat down at one of the Shoppe’s tables while Stormi was busy on her cell phone calling her brother and Paige’s husband. Both arrived at the store within 10 minutes; however, the police wouldn’t let them in so we walked out to the street.
Paige’s husband hugged her tight and asked how we all were doing.
“Great all because of Stormi,” Paige answered.
“That’s my Sis,” Brandon crowed.
By that time, the local paper got wind of what was going on and Stormi gave them their next headline for tomorrow’s early edition. We all headed to the police station where we were interviewed about the night’s harrowing activities. Our stories all jived and since Eileen’s confession was on tape, she remained in jail.
We saw Trixie come into the station as we were leaving. She grabbed the three of us and said she heard what happened and was so sorry. We told her it wasn’t her fault and that if she needed anything to let us know. We weren’t going to hold her daughter’s actions against her.
Mr. Florez was released from jail and not surprisingly, he offered a shoulder for Trixie to lean on. He was a nice man and I knew he and Trixie were better suited for one another than he and Greta.
On the advice of her lawyer, Eileen accepted a plea deal from the prosecutor. She was sentenced to 25 years to life in jail. Some thought it wasn’t harsh enough and I had to agree, especially when you’re on the receivin
g end of a gun barrel.
Trevor moved back to Atlanta a few days after Eileen’s confession. Supposedly he received the bulk of Greta’s estate, which wasn’t much. He never called me again, and I wasn’t too upset about it. I didn’t want to date a reminder of the whole Greta murder experience, although Stormi mourned his departure.
As summer approached I kept busy with customers, and Paige and Stormi continued to help. Stormi bought a slew of half price flowerpots in which we planted pink perennials and placed out in front of my Shoppe. No roses though. Roses were forbidden anywhere near my Shoppe or home. Well, unless a handsome man decided to send me a dozen. I prefer pink.
A Frozen Scoop of Murder - The Bundle Edition (Books One to Six): Cozy Mysteries Page 4