by Sandi Scott
He looked at her, surprised, and then sighed. “I suppose everyone knows by now. Yes, I have a gentleman’s agreement to sell a parcel near the Mouth for a hotel; the paperwork is being drawn up. I hate thinking some oversized tourist trap may become my legacy, but I have to think about my wife. She made a lot of sacrifices for me over the years. I owe it to her to provide a comfortable life after I’m gone. In any case, at least it’s just a hotel and not those frackers.”
“Paperwork—boy, that’s always stressful. What is that, like a geological survey?” She smiled and tilted her head, feeling so cheesy. But Bobby didn’t seem to notice.
“Nah. Much simpler than that. I’ve done it a hundred times in my career; you go back and forth on an offer, have an assessor draw up a survey of the property lines, grit your teeth through the final negotiations and then sign in front of a lawyer. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Is this deal with Monty Gahn? I keep hearing his name around town.”
“Lord, no.” he exclaimed. “That man is just a sore loser. When he discovered he lost the property to Bayview, he went back to Houston with his tail between his legs. I’m proud to be the one who ran that lowlife out of town.”
“Now if only you could get the Localists to do the same.”
“Yeah, they’ve been causing me some trouble these last few weeks. They set fire to a shed of mine a few weeks back. I’d wish they’d stick to smoking meat instead of other people’s property.”
So Bobby didn’t order the geological survey. Then who did? Also, if Gahn was seen arguing with Colleen the night of her murder and then skipped town, that was one heck of a coincidence. And Bobby seemed to be implying that Smoke Daddy Lee, Seagrass’s resident meat smoker, was involved.
Bobby coughed a few times, which prompted the nosy nurse to step out of the shadows, giving Ashley a stern look before retreating. It was all Ashley could do to keep from poking her tongue out. She was still—at heart—a precocious teenager.
“Do you have any idea who these Localists are? I think they might have something to do with Colleen’s death.”
He gave her a vague stare and began fidgeting around with the blanket on his knee. She reached out her hand but stopped; she didn’t want to give him a heart attack.
“Bobby?” she asked softly.
He snapped out of it and shook his head, which slowly turned into a nod as he smiled at her affectionately. “I’ve always looked at you as a daughter, Ashley. You’ve always been a great friend to Hope. We all appreciate that.”
A cloud of confusion passed over Bobby’s face. In a panic, Ashley sensed that time was running out. She needed to know who the Localists were so she could figure out where they were the night of the murder. As she waited for his response, it became clear that it was already too late. The lurking nurse came back out and gently chided her charge while glaring at Ashley like she was the Grim Reaper.
“It’s time for your medication, Mr. McCay.”
He looked over at Georgie and gave her an equally confused look, which soon dissipated. He seemed to be veering back and forth, in and out of it as time went on.
“Yes, I am rather tired.” He rubbed his temples, fingers wavering ever so slightly.
Ashley felt bad for being so impetuous, but she had to try one last time before she left.
“I’m so sorry, Bobby, but I wanted to ask a few more questions. I want to ask you about Emma.”
Bobby’s head jerked towards her at the mention of Emma’s name; his hesitant frown broke into a shining smile. He stared at the sky as twilight began to descend.
“It’s glorious, you know. So glorious—out there—at night.”
“Pardon?”
“The night, Hope. You know how lovely it is. You always loved this time of day, didn’t you, Hope?”
“It’s Ashley; I’m Ashley.”
Her concern about not getting the information she needed was overtaken by the sadness she felt over this once-strapping business man devolving into a shell of his former self.
Georgie started to bristle. “I think he’s had enough, haven’t you, Mr. McCay?”
“Yes, Emma. You’re right. I’ve had enough.” He patted the hand Georgie had placed on his shoulder. “You treat me so kindly, Emma.”
The nurse smiled apologetically at Ashley. “I’m sorry, but it’s getting worse. He has his good days and his bad days. One moment he’s totally lucid and the next? Well, you saw for yourself.”
Ashley nodded and started making her way across the garden. On her way to her car, she felt her phone vibrating in her jacket pocket. Once she answered, she was almost sorry that she had.
“Hey, girly—it’s Mueller—and you won’t guess what I found out.”
Ashley had had enough confusion for one evening. Even though she wasn’t in the mood for games, she tried not to be rude while asking him to speak plainly for once.
“I don’t want to guess, just tell me.”
“The poison. Guess.”
He seemed like an excited child. She could hear him panting and wondered if he was under a bush or at his desk.
“Just tell me, won’t you?”
“Alrighty, then. Wait for it… It comes from an exotic flower.”
“What kind of exotic flower? Do you know?” She was blurting loudly in her excitement. She grew more impatient when he started to stammer as he attempted to pronounce the name.
“Wait a minute, girly, I’m reading it off the toxicology report right here. Solansy—it’s a solankey—related to datturra or something. I think it’s tryin’ to say brugmansion. Boy, this thing ought to have a pronunciation guide or something.” He stuttered a few more times while Ashley turned around and headed toward the McCays’ garden.
“Could you just spell it for me?”
“Alrighty. It’s B.r.u.g.m.a.n.s.i.a. Got it?”
“I’ve never heard of that,” Ashley said, crouching to read the labels on the pots near her feet. She didn’t know why she thought she’d find it here, but she had a hunch.
“Trumpet flower is the common name.”
Just then, she felt her spine tingling as she laid eyes on a small, potted tree with delicate, peach-colored trumpet flowers cascading from its branches. She walked over and bent down to read the pot’s label, staked into the soil. Sure enough, it read “Brugmansia: from the family Solanaceae.”
She stood up and filled her lungs with the cool night air, wondering who else had access to these gardens. A vision of Emma Phee walking through them with Bobby popped to mind, the same image that had been captured in a photograph and was on Colleen’s phone.
CHAPTER 12
ASHLEY AWOKE EARLY the next morning and wanted to call Ryan right away to share the news about the poison. When she checked her phone, though, she saw that he still hadn’t answered her text from the previous night, so she decided to distract herself with baking. She didn’t want to be that girl, the one who texted to ask why he hadn’t texted. She and Ryan were finally close to a friendship without awkwardness, like they had so many years ago, and she didn’t want to ruin it by being overeager. More than ever, she understood the need for personal time and space in a friendship, and she was willing to foster it in theirs, no matter how difficult it was.
The aroma of the lemon she was zesting for her lemon poppy seed muffins woke her up, filling her with optimism for the day. Just as she opened the oven door to put the muffins in, she heard her phone buzz. It was a text from Ryan saying she should come over whenever she could; he was still at home, so she could meet him there.
When he opened the door to his apartment, Ashley leaned in to give him a hug, but she was holding the basket of muffins on her hip, so at the last minute, she offered her left hand for a high-five. It threw both of them off balance and sent the basket cascading to the floor. To make things even more awkward, Dizzy pounced on the muffins and licked half the basket’s worth before Ashley could shove her away.
“This is why you always double your reci
pe, right?” Laughing, Ryan stood up to hold the door open.
Dizzy raced up to him, lemon filling and sweet, white meringue stuck in her whiskers.
“Dizzy, no.” Ashley commanded.
It was too late. She’d jumped up and spread half of the mess all over Ryan’s jeans. Luckily, he wasn’t fazed. He laughed harder and playfully wrestled Dizzy to the ground, where she immediately rolled over and lapped up the attention.
“That dog will be the death of me.” Ashley snapped half-heartedly, but she smiled when Ryan reached out for the basket and grabbed her elbow to pull her into the apartment.
They sat on his couch with the muffins, fresh coffee and his laptop open to the Wikipedia page on Brugmansia.
“Trumpet flowers, related to Datura.” Ashley read, scrolling down the screen.
“They’re quite stunning,” said Ryan.
“And deadly. They’re poisonous, and that’s what they found in the contents of Colleen’s stomach.”
“Speaking of stomachs, mine is happy. These muffins are delicious. You never disappoint.”
She smiled but then made a face at Dizzy, who was still licking the debris off her face and paws.
“So,” Ryan said through a mouthful of muffin, “we know about the poison, even though it’s assumed that you didn’t put it there.”
“Oh, shut up.” She gave him a little shoulder-to-shoulder shove.
“I imagine that you’d like to watch some surveillance video? I found something interesting from that newly installed camera in the commercial kitchen.”
“Yes, but I have more information first. I met with Bobby McCay. It was sad; he’s really deteriorating physically, and mentally too, I fear. “
She told him about how Bobby admitted to making a gentleman’s agreement to sell the Mouth to hotel developers, which sent Monty Gahn back to Houston.
“The strange thing, though, is that he said there was no geological survey for shale gas deposits involved in the deal. He also implied the Smoke Daddy Lee was behind the vandalism attributed to the Localists. Then he really started making no sense and confused his nurse with Emma, and it got too sad for me to stay. Who knows if anything he said is even true? The whole visit may have been a waste; it didn’t turn up any new leads.”
“It’s all evidence, even if it is all fantasies of his dementia. Plus, you found the trumpet flower in the McCays’ garden. It could be the source of the poison. Let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater, Watson.”
Ashley wasn’t in the mood to kid around, but she appreciated Ryan trying to cheer her up. “Firstly, let’s get one thing straight, you’re Watson and I’m Holmes. Secondly, I’ve been thinking about those photos of Emma Phee and Bobby at his residence. If that trumpet flower is indeed the murder weapon, she certainly had access to it. I’m sure they took a few romantic midnight strolls in the garden.”
“Oh, that reminds me, I have some video footage I want to show you from Fresh Start Kitchens. Nothing too out of the ordinary has happened since you installed the cameras, except this.” He brought up the video on his computer.
On the screen, Smoke Daddy Lee and Patty were talking in the kitchen. She was leaning back against the counter with one hand behind her back and the other twirling a wispy strand of blonde hair, her head slightly tilted to one side. Smoke Daddy Lee was standing a few feet away, telling a story that they could not hear over the muted video feed, but it was obviously funny by the way Patty laughed animatedly every few minutes, covering her mouth with her hand and bending over slightly. Lee was moving closer to Patty, step by step, as he told the story. The more she laughed, the closer he came to her, and the more they both smiled. The video was playing at 3x real-time, and the speed made Patty and Lee’s gestures more pronounced, like an old slapstick comedy film.
“Are they flirting?” Ashley was quite shocked to see Patty with anything but a professional demeanor.
“It looks that way. Keep watching.”
Lee was now standing right in front of Patty and his demeanor had changed. The storytelling comedian was gone and a bashful schoolboy stood in his place, nervously wringing his hands. Patty was watching him intently until they both stopped talking. Patty then broke the tension by grabbing a tea towel and playfully slapping him with it, making them both laugh.
“Oh, Lord.” Ashley groaned. “Thank goodness for mute.”
“Actually, you are going to want to hear this part,” said Ryan, turning up the volume.
“Oh, go on.” Patty beamed at Lee, apparently enjoying herself immensely.
“Ya don’t think this ol’ boy is serious? I didn’t want to say anything in front-a lil’ Ashley, but I came down to the banquet that night hopin’ to ask you out. I lost mah nerve and ended up leavin’, little lady.”
“Really? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Surely you do, a world-weary gal like yusself.”
She giggled again, while closing in to tap him on the chest gently with her wooden spoon.
Lee laughed loudly, obviously enjoying her flirting.
“Please, turn it off.” Ashley was squirming in her seat. “It feels so wrong to be spying on my friends like this.”
“I agree, but it did show us that Lee had other things in mind when he came to the banquet that night,” said Ryan.
“Well, now I feel bad for spying on my friend and for suspecting an innocent man for murder. I’m going to have to get rid of that hidden camera right away.”
He stopped the video. “Yeah. For all the sleuthing and spying you’ve done, you still have a great heart, Ash.”
She shrugged. “I’ve seen people hurt those they love and hope to get away with it; I never want to let myself get even close to that.” She felt him looking at her, his face just a foot away from hers, but she couldn’t turn to face him.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I guess Lee is out as a suspect. And if what Bobby said is true, Gahn looks mores suspicious than ever, but we’d have to go to Houston to get hold of him. That leaves Emma. And Eddie. I know he’s your friend, but his story doesn’t add up. There’s something nagging at me about it. Still, I can’t understand why he would want to kill Colleen. ”
Ryan had gobbled down another handful of muffin. He was doing his best to chew and swallow so he could respond, while licking his fingers and sweeping crumbs off himself and the table.
“Well, I might have a hunch.” He pulled a keylogger report up on his laptop and pointed to it with a lemon meringue fingertip. He quickly stuffed his finger in his mouth to lick it before continuing.
“Now, stay with me on this. Eddie has been Googling things like ‘honeymoon destinations’ and silly lists such as ‘romantic gifts for your wife.’ However, when I checked into the thumb-drive you stole from Eddie—”
Ashley shook her finger at him. “I’m not a thief. I like to think of it as borrowing.”
“OK. When I checked the thumb drive which you ‘appropriated’ from Eddie, I found this.” He waved his hand triumphantly.
She leaned forward to squint at the screen. “Wedding plans, honeymoon options, a budget…Oh!” Ashley glanced at Ryan, her eyebrows raised. “This is interesting. ‘Note to self—how much can the McCays pay?’ Well, well, well.”
She leaned back, jumping when Dizzy—who was trying to insinuate herself between the two of them on the couch—let out a sharp bark.
“Dizzy, get down.”
Instead of obeying, Dizzy scooted her hind-legs behind Ryan’s back, stretched her front paws behind Ashley and finally rested her head against the couch’s back cushion.
“Look here, you missed something.” Ryan pointed to the screen again. “His bank statements, personal and business. He’s broke.”
She took a closer look and nodded slowly. “Wow, he’s in bad shape.”
“Both himself and the business.”
“Okay,” Ashley mused. “He wanted to marry Hope because the family’s money would help him and his business consi
derably.”
Ryan nodded. “Maybe he killed Colleen to keep the affair in the dark because she was getting so close to revealing it.”
“Right, because that would ensure his marriage to Hope. But how can we prove that?” She leaned back again and Dizzy yelped in protest, although she didn’t move.
“I don’t know. Plus, Hope knew about the affair, and she was going to take him back. It doesn’t add up.”
Ashley rubbed her eyes in frustration. She stood up and took the basket of muffins to the kitchen, where she refilled her mug with fresh coffee.
“Well, we still have to find out what Emma was fishing around for in Colleen’s purse, but it seems that Eddie is suspect number one until proven otherwise,” Ryan said.
Ashley went back to the couch and sat down in a huff, prompting Dizzy to whine quietly and readjust her position.
“I don’t like talking to Emma. It’s been years since high school, but when I talk to her, I feel like that dorky computer nerd watching the cheerleaders practice their dance moves at lunch while I write code on my laptop.”
“Awww, come on, Ash. We all know the nerds end up way cooler than the cheerleaders later in life, when it really matters.” He put his arm around her, giving her shoulder a little squeeze.
“It’s okay, I’ll talk to her–for Colleen’s sake.”
“And for the sake of Seagrass Sweets and The Southern Bird, remember?” He rose from the couch and took his coffee cup into the kitchen.
Ashley sighed and stood up as well. She looked a Ryan’s clock and was so shocked to see how much time had passed, she double-checked her phone. The time had flown by and, though inertia and the comfort of Ryan’s couch begged her to stay, she called for Dizzy and made her way to the door.
“Thanks for your help,” she said. “It means a lot to me that you’re helping me out.”
From the kitchen and out of her sight, Ryan responded, “Are you kidding me? It’s just like old times. I haven’t had this much fun in, well...” He appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands on a towel and smiling. “Let’s just say that I was such a dork back in high school that I never even ate lunch in the cafeteria; it was too risky on account of all the jocks looking for guys like me to pick on so they could look tough. I’m having a lot of fun hanging out with you again, Ash.”