“Oh, what a precious little bird,” Hattie cooed as she bounced over to the cage. “Just a tweetin’ away in there aren’t ya, little fella.”
“Little gal, actually.” The cold spot grew even colder around Darci. Without a doubt in her mind, she knew Miss Addie stood beside her granddaughter. “We call her Daisy.”
“Well, you just keep singing, little miss.” Hattie turned her head toward Darci. “Daisies were one of Grandma’s favorites. She planted enough so she could keep bouquets when they were in season, which is practically all summer.”
“Really?” Darci craved a cup of Kahlua-laced coffee. She was beginning to wonder whether Miss Addie had forseen Hattie’s visit. Could the ghost have put ideas in her head, about Daisy’s name or the library research, wanting her to know about her family before they came calling?
“Yes, they lined both sides of the house.” That said, Hattie walked to the porthole, perhaps wanting to look out on the yard her grandmother had spent so much of her life tending. She came to a sudden stop, her shin even with the place Wade patched. The repair was invisible, thanks to her husband’s craftsmanship, but Darci knew that was the spot.
Hattie put her fingertips against the yellow plaster, caressing the wall. Darci wondered about the déjà vu moment, and then it dawned on her.
Oh my God, Darci thought. That’s the spot where Paxton saw the Ghost Lady doing the exact same thing, running her hand over the wall as if she were looking for something. Unsure if the chills running down her spine were from the cold spot or the oddity of what was happening, she shivered, her eyes never leaving Hattie.
“This is where it used to hang, Gene.” He nodded, apparently knowing what his wife was talking about, though Darci didn’t have a clue. The way things were going lately, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn the Browns used to hang vampire bats there for the werewolves to play with.
Hattie faced Darci and Gene. “Grandma displayed her most prized possession right here.” She pointed at the spot she’d ran her fingers over. “It was a special china plate. She hung it here so everyone who entered her home could see it. Her parents brought it over on the ship when they sailed from Ireland. There was a whole set back then, a wedding gift from a favorite uncle, I believe. When Grandma got married, she asked her mother for one of the plates.”
You remember! Oh, it does my old heart good to know you didn’t forget about me, and you’re here to help. I love you, Hattie honey. Sure do wish you could hear me.
Darci hadn’t given much thought to the broken china pieces Wade fished out of the wall. He’d left them on the floor, pieced together in their original shape. Despite the pretty and unusual pattern, Darci didn’t know why she couldn’t bring herself to throw the shards away. Instead, she put them on a shelf in the workroom and hadn’t thought about them since. Should she bring them out and give the broken dish to Hattie? Maybe it wasn’t even the same plate. Darci didn’t know what to do.
“I remember we stood right here looking at the serving dish and she told me all about it. Grandma said that whenever she got discouraged about anything, she’d look at the plate and run her fingers over the scalloped edge. She drew inspiration from it. She’d say ‘If this fragile piece of china could cross the Atlantic Ocean in one piece, surely to goodness I can make it through whatever small crisis comes into my life’.” Hattie lost herself in thought, her face the picture of serenity.
“Do you have the plate now?” Darci felt like an ass. She was afraid she knew the answer, yet had to ask.
“No, I really don’t know what happened to it. I figured my aunt or uncle got it after Grandma died, so one of my cousins might’ve inherited it. I never gave it much thought, except to remember Grandma telling me about it. I do have a cup and saucer that match it, though.”
Pride filled Hattie’s voice. “The original set from Ireland got divided up between Grandma and her sisters when her parents passed away. Grandma’s grandparents sent her and Grandpa a tea set that matched when they got married. Oh, they’re beautiful, in the Belleek Nautilus pattern. The teacups are shaped like a big shell, the handle looks like pink coral, and two tiny little china conch shells work as feet on the front of the cup. The delicate little saucer has scalloped edges, like a clamshell. Anyway, Grandma passed them on to my aunt, and later Aunt Virginia gave me one of the cup and saucers. I keep it in a special place in the front of my curio cabinet. Bust out in a sweat whenever I spring clean, scared to death of breaking it.”
Gene nodded, one side of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “She’s not kiddin’. She puts two layers of towels on the table to set them on while she shines ‘em up. Fussed at me last time because I tried to sit down and eat a bran muffin. ‘What in the world’s wrong with you, Gene? Are you trying to mess up my breakables? If you knock this china off, you’ll be wearing my shoe in your backside.’ I had to eat my snack in the living room watchin’ The View, and she don’t usually let me eat in rooms with carpet.”
“That precious Irish plate is the only thing Grandma ever threatened to tan our hides over. We took her word for it, too. If I’d broken it, I don’t think I’d be able to sit down today. We never tossed a ball in here, and tiptoed around this wall. It would’ve broke Grandma’s heart if anything happened to it.”
The pained tone in Hattie’s voice during that last sentence helped Darci make a decision. She thought it best not to bring up the broken pieces Wade found, afraid it would some way spoil things for Hattie. Sunlight shined through the window just then, and glinted off something on Hattie’s dress Darci hadn’t noticed before.
“That,” Darci said, eyes widening as she pointed, about to ask another question she full well knew the answer to. “It’s so pretty. Where’d you get it?”
“Grandma left it to me.” Hattie’s finger lovingly brushed the broach she wore near her heart. “Almost forgot I put it on today, since we were coming here. She wasn’t really a jewelry person, but she wore this all the time. It was a gift after she helped deliver twins, from a Cherokee lady named Betsy. The babies barely made it, and wouldn’t have without Grandma seeing to them. Back then, a lot of folks looked down on Indians, but not Grandma. She and Betsy got to be real good friends, and I think they exchanged letters up to the end.”
Darci stepped closer for a better look at the pin Miss Addie still wore when she showed herself. She’d never been able to make out the design details before. “It’s beautiful.” Tiny sage leaves made of antique silver formed a slender figure eight about two inches long.
From all the reading she’d done on herbs, the fact that sage symbolized wisdom and immortality leaped to her mind. She just might pencil in ‘is a favorite of ghosts’ in the margins when she got home. Another thought occurred to her. Miss Addie must have been the one who kept moving that Pow Wow flier around last month, to give her a little extra push to go, maybe so Darci could hobnob with the descendants of the Cherokee friend who gave her the pin.
“I guess we’d better be on our way, and get out of yours,” Hattie said after glancing at her watch.
No, you cain’t leave yet! Time is precious and there’s no tellin’ when I’ll get a chance to be with you again. Why cain’t I make you see me? I’m tryin’ so hard, and you’re my own flesh and blood.
My tears won’t stop, I cain’t help it. Only thing I can do is hug you, and pray the good lord lets you feel it. I love you, Hattie.
Darci walked Hattie and Gene out, after they finally managed to pry open the front door. She made a mental note to have Hoyt squirt the lock and hinges with WD-40.
“Thanks so much for lettin’ us visit. It sure did mean a lot to me.” Suddenly overcome by emotion, tears flowed down Hattie’s cheeks and past her sweet smile. Gene’s handkerchief came in handy again. “It feels almost like Grandma’s still here. Might sound silly, but I thought I smelled her perfume a few seconds ago, rose and amber with a hint of vanilla. Haven’t sniffed that in years.”
Darci felt compelled to give her a hug, which
she did, then waved as they walked down the sidewalk. “Y’all stop by and have lunch with me the next time you’re in the area.” They promised and she hoped to see them again soon.
She watched their car pull out of the driveway and ease down Main Street. “You have a lovely granddaughter, Miss Addie. It’s easy to see how proud she is of you.” The shop had stayed cold the whole time Hattie talked about the plate and reminisced. The familiar presence in the room didn’t spook Darci in the slightest.
Daisy chirped and bobbed herself into a frenzy. Since the ghost wasn’t likely to open the cage, Darci answered the parakeet’s request. Daisy hopped onto her finger and sidestepped up to her shoulder. She stretched her little yellow-feathered head out toward empty air, as if reaching for an unseen hand.
Roy Nolan’s trial didn’t last long, given his confession and the overwhelming evidence against him.
Darci sat in the courtroom, relieved to have her testimony over and done with. Her time on the stand the day before had been nerve wracking, to say the least. She’d absentmindedly fidgeted with her bracelet as she answered questions, first as an expert witness regarding the Ricinus communis in Teresa Nolan’s yard. That was the easy part. The second half of her testimony, when she established herself as the victim of attempted murder, was even worse for her. She was conscious of each word that came out of her mouth, especially the ones she omitted about the bells on the door drawing her attention to make her stand up right before the first shot. No way in hell did she plan to swear under oath that Miss Addie’s ghost existed, even if she had saved her life. Though she didn’t think belief in the paranormal would necessarily land her in the nuthouse, she was afraid it might make her a little less creditable. And she would never hear the end of it.
Beside her now, Wade clenched his jaw each time he looked toward the back of Roy Nolan’s head.
The coroner, an arresting officer from Ohio, and a psychologist the defense team obviously hoped would declare Roy insane-which he had not-also testified previously. So had Belinda Blanford, who melted into a hot squalling mess, swearing she didn’t know a damn thing about poisoned food or Roy killing anybody. Hysterical, she begged the judge not to lock her up, even though no charge for accessory to murder had ever been filed against her.
Eddie Miller had just left the stand after pointing to the man he saw drive away in a blue pickup after the shooting.
The prosecutor submitted Ashley Rosales’ sworn statement into evidence, her name withheld from the general court due to her being a minor, and to keep her identity from the goons who roughed Roy up in the stables that day in March. Darci could only imagine how horrified the poor girl must’ve been, hiding in the stall overhearing that conversation. Cyril Maldonado had personally helped Ashley with her horse therapy while she recovered from the hit-and-run accident, and to learn the man she respected and revered died at Roy’s hands because of a stupid gambling debt must have been devastating. She’d kept the incident a secret for fear that those same thugs-the ones who cut the brakes on Roy’s mother’s car and stood punching Nolan on the other side of the barn-would kill her to keep her mouth shut, if they ever found out what she knew. Thank God they hadn’t seen her.
Roy mostly just stared at the floor during the entire hearing.
“The prosecution calls Sheriff Maxwell Roberts as its next witness.” Dressed in a gray suit and baby blue tie, Henry Dawson looked over his papers as the bailiff swore Max in. After a while, he questioned Max on the subject of evidence.
“My deputies and I spent a few hours searching Nolan’s house on August twenty-first, the day he was seen leaving the scene after he shot at Darci Shelton.” Max paused to glare at Roy, who continued to stare at the floor. “We got a warrant right after Darci explained why she had reason to believe Roy was the shooter. One of the pans we bagged for evidence came back from the lab positive for traces of poison. Since ricin isn’t the type of ingredient anyone in their right mind would cook with, that pretty much proved Roy’d poison Cyril. Yep, Nolan sure thinks he’s a big man, what with making sure his best friend died a slow, painful death, then him trying to kill a hard working woman because she figured out what he did. That son of a bitch-”
“Objection!” The defense attorney jumped to his feet as Henry Dawson shushed Max.
“Sustained.” The judge banged his gavel until the courtroom fell silent. “Sheriff, you know better than to carry on like this on the witness stand. Any more foul language and I’ll find you in contempt.”
Dawson whispered something to Max, who struggled to get his temper under control before he continued his testimony.
“We searched M & N Stables next, but didn’t turn anything up. The Styrofoam plate from the diner most likely ended up in the dumpster the day Roy poisoned Cyril. By now, it’d be at the bottom of the Webster County landfill under a ton of used toilet paper and refuse.”
Cyril’s wife was the last witness later that day. Mrs. Maldonado slapped Roy in the face on her way to the witness stand. Nobody blamed her for hitting him. By the time the lone bailiff in the courtroom got to her, Nolan’s sobbed apology drew his attention away from the widow.
“I’m so sorry Pauline, I didn’t want to do it.” Tears dripped off Roy’s face, his ragged sobs making it hard for him to speak. He ignored his lawyer’s plea for him to hush. “I loved Cyril like a brother, you know that. They were gonna kill Mama, and the life insurance was the only way I could get that much money. I thought he’d die real quick, not linger in agony like he did. It killed me to watch him suffer in his hospital bed.”
His lawyer tried unsuccessfully to put Roy back in his seat. The bailiff held Mrs. Maldonado up, a comforting arm around her shoulder as she listened to Roy’s confession.
“When Mama told me about Mrs. Shelton stopping by asking about that castor plant, I knew she’d figured out what I’d done. That damn fruity-ass Donovan Lewis told her all about Belinda bringing me the takeout boxes, and I knew she’d spill everything to the sheriff. He’s her uncle or some relation, I think. I would’ve done anything to keep from going to jail.”
By this point, the entire courtroom was silent. The defense lawyer gave up, threw his pen down on the table, and crossed his arms. The judge motioned to two officers in the back.
“Mama’s gonna be fine now, ‘cause I paid off what I owed.” The officers dragged Roy from the room.
Court adjourned for the day.
Celia Kemp covered the trial for the local newspaper. For the first degree murder of Cyril Maldonado and the attempted murder of Darci Shelton, Roy Nolan was sentenced to life in prison with no possibility of parole.
“I’ll get the nominations.” Charlotte retrieved the wooden box decoupaged with Victorian cutouts of botanicals, birds, and insects from its spot on the table beside the front door. She brought it back to the kitchen, where she and Darci took a midmorning coffee break.
Once a month, they drew a name from the box to reward some deserving citizen with a basket or fresh arrangement. People could submit nominations through Petal Pushers’ website or in the shop.
They did draw the winner out, along with losing entries, but that wasn’t exactly how their selection process worked. Darci set up the award to recognize people who did exceptional deeds for others, and those who needed cheering up during hard times. The decision to read through all the nominees and choose the most deserving came in January when, on their first draw, they pulled a slip of paper that said something to the effect of ‘Pick Janie, cuz she’s my friend and super cool’.
On this November morning, Charlotte divided the nominations and dug in to her half. “Can’t wait to see what we find this time.”
Zingers sometime found their way into the box, like ‘Lady GaGa rules’ or ‘Spiderman for Mayor’. Charlotte’s all-time personal favorite read, ‘We vote for the blonde chick with big hooters behind the counter’, which most likely came from one of the teenage boys who stopped by to see Hoyt.
“Here we go.” Darci separated
the slips of paper into groups as she read through her half. “This pile is for entries saying so and so is very nice or special or sweet and deserves to win, minus any real reason. Cranks go on the corner, after being read out loud and laughed at.”
“Okay, and people who do something extraordinary go beside the salt shaker,” Charlotte added, plunking down an entry. “And the pepper people are depressed or going through a rough patch.”
After they finished sorting each month, they put the best candidates from the salt and pepper piles in the center of the table. They debated over these until they reached a decision. Past winners included a couple who lost their home in a tornado and a local man who ran an animal rescue for abandoned dog, cats, and other pets who needed a home.
“Let’s have one more Krispy Kreme, to help us make our final choice.” Darci handed Charlotte a donut, fall themed with chocolate icing and orange sprinkles, before taking a bite herself. “Mmmm,” she said through a mouthful, “glad this was my day to splurge.”
“I think the winner’s obvious this time. Laura DeMoss gets my vote.” Charlotte raked up the crumbs accumulating in front of her and piled them on top of the crank stack, destined for the garbage can. “With all her volunteer work, she should get the Nobel Peace Prize.”
“She’s my pick, too. Donates time at the homeless shelter and lets destitute women use her home address and phone number on job applications, since they need a permanent address to get hired. The stuff about her literacy program sealed the deal.” Darci tapped the newspaper article paperclipped to the nomination form.
Poison, Perennials, and a Poltergeist (The Petal Pushers Mystery Series) Page 17