“So what did you want to talk to me about?”
Jordan set her glass on a coaster on the end table and glanced at her watch. “I’ll jump right to the point, if you don’t mind, since I have to be back at work by two.”
She’d made a deal with Egan to have this afternoon off instead of Friday this week but wanted an excuse to cut and run if things got uncomfortable. Besides, she had her heart set on a nap when she got home. “I’m worried about Maria Morales.”
Brenda Sue’s face displayed her confusion. “Because of her health?”
“No. Because she seems terrified and even admitted she was afraid of someone. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on who might be giving her trouble.”
Brenda Sue thought for a moment before shaking her head. “Everyone loves Maria, especially Diego. He wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head, and he’d kill anyone else who tried.” She shook her head again. “Honestly, I can’t think of anyone who would deliberately hurt that woman.” She met Jordan’s stare. “Did she actually say she was afraid of someone, or did you suggest it?”
Jordan pondered the question before answering. “I may have led her there, but twice she grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go. Then she mouthed the words ‘Help me.’”
Brenda Sue laughed. “Since her stroke several months ago, Maria hasn’t always seemed rational. The doctors keep telling Diego that the aphasia may go away in time, but the longer she goes without speaking, the less chance there is of that happening.”
Jordan straightened on the sofa as a thought suddenly came to her. “Can she write on a notepad?”
Brenda Sue shook her head. “She was right-handed and that’s the side that was paralyzed. They’ve tried to teach her how to use the left one, but she’s never mastered it. She gets frustrated and throws the pad across the room every time.”
“It must be hard not being able to communicate.”
“I’m sure. She had her stroke just a few months after having her left hip replaced, which made it that much more devastating. She was just getting used to walking without a cane when she had the massive bleed into her brain. As I understand it, she mistakenly took too many of the blood thinners she’d been on since the surgery. The doctor said it was a miracle she survived.”
“Did she get confused about the pills or what?”
“That’s the funny thing. When Diego counted the remaining tablets to see just how many she had ingested, none were missing. Yet her blood tests showed her clotting ability was five times slower than normal.”
“Wow, that is weird,” Jordan responded.
Brenda Sue pushed away from the table and stood up. “Enough about Maria. Ready to eat yet? I’m starving.”
“Me too.” Jordan got up and followed her through the French doors onto a veranda overlooking miles of green pasture dotted with grazing cows. “Are those Wagyu?”
The hostess looked surprised. “You know Wagyu?”
Jordan hurriedly looked away, thinking she had screwed up again before remembering she no longer needed to keep Danny’s reason for being in Ranchero a secret. “My brother’s staying with me for a few weeks. He’s a TSCRA agent sent here to investigate the increase in cattle rustling. He gave me a ten-minute ‘all you ever wanted to know about cows but were afraid to ask’ lecture.”
“Yeah, I’d heard an investigator was in town. Marcus and I lose about three or four head every few months despite our best efforts to prevent it. We move them to a new pasture nearly every night to confuse the thieves, but they always seem to know where to find the cows.”
They sat down at a small table covered in crisp white linen and adorned with rust-colored stoneware plates and the most beautiful yellow carnations Jordan had ever seen. “These are gorgeous.”
“Another of Karen’s greenhouse miracles. She makes pretty good money selling her flowers to the shops all over the metroplex.”
“I thought you said she grows herbs for homeopathic medicine.”
“That, too. She has customers all over the world.”
“Amazing,” Jordan exclaimed. “I’d love to see the flowers.”
“Karen adores showing off her beauties. If you want, we can check them out after we eat.” She reached for Jordan’s empty tea glass. “Do you want a refill, or would you prefer water or a soft drink with your lunch?”
“I can get those anywhere. I absolutely want more tea. I still can’t believe a little mint can change the taste so much.”
Brenda Sue picked up the plates from the table. “Sit tight. I’ll be back in a flash with our lunch and more tea.”
Jordan used the time alone to contemplate their earlier conversation about Maria. The journalist in her moved straight to a more sinister explanation for the woman’s accidental blood-thinner overdose. Was it possible Diego had slipped her an extra pill or two and then lied about how many were missing?
A vision of Maria mouthing “Help me” popped into her head. Although she barely knew the woman, she vowed to at least check it out. She added a visit to the Morales house to her list of things to do in the next week or so. First, she’d have to research the kind of medicine Maria would have been prescribed after a hip replacement.
Waiting for Brenda Sue to return, she formed a plan.
CHAPTER 7
“Here you go,” said Brenda Sue, carrying a tray with the tea and stoneware plates filled with the chicken salad, a small spinach salad, and a greenish concoction.
After her first bite of the chicken salad, Jordan was glad she’d come. Next she tried the greenish stuff, licking her lips to get every last drop. “This is yummy. What is it?”
“Watergate Salad.” Brenda Sue beamed. “My mother made this every time we had company. The pistachio pudding makes it so good.”
“I’d love the recipe for my column,” Jordan said, taking the last bite. “The chicken salad, too. It’s the best I’ve ever eaten.” She was already seeing both recipes as next week’s entry in the Kitchen Kupboard, hoping Victor and the gang could come up with some exotic name to go with them.
When they’d finished eating, Jordan glanced at her watch. “I’ll help you clean up, then I have to get going. It’s about a half-hour drive back to the office.”
Brenda Sue waved her off. “Don’t be silly. Marcus won’t be back until dinner time, so I have all day to tidy up. Let’s go out to the greenhouse, and I’ll introduce you to Karen and her garden. Bring your phone. You’ll want pictures.”
“Terrific. Lead the way.”
Grabbing her cell phone, Jordan followed Brenda Sue out the door to the small building sitting back about three hundred yards from the house.
“Come on around back. Karen’s always there pampering her plants.” She led Jordan through the gate and behind the greenhouse where a yellow Lab rushed to greet them, nearly knocking Brenda Sue off her feet.
“Hey, Lucky. Look what Aunt Brenda has for you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a dog biscuit. The dog snatched it and ran, his tail wagging his thanks. “Karen and David never had kids, so her plants and animals are her babies. Marcus and I have our cows, and of course, all of Karen’s critters.”
They were greeted at the entrance by a fortyish woman with dark hair tinged with gray at the temples and pulled back into a tight bun. Jordan watched the two women embrace before Brenda Sue introduced her to Karen Whitley.
After making a fuss over the beautiful flowers near the front, Jordan headed down the aisle, scanning the rest of the huge structure. It was like walking through a professional nursery filled on both sides by flowers of every size and color.
She bent down to smell a huge yellow rose with pink-tipped petals. “I’m totally dazzled, Karen. How did you get them to grow so large?” Pulling out her cell phone, she asked, “Do you mind if I snap a few pictures? My friends won’t believe me when I tell them how beautiful these are.”
“Take as many pictures as you like. I figure it’s good advertising. Flowers To Go in Connor is one of my b
iggest customers.” She paused. “I’ll send you home with a bouquet to entice your friends to visit the shop.”
“I’d love that,” Jordan said, already checking out which flowers she wanted.
Near the back of the greenhouse, she spotted a large area cordoned off with rope. Inside were rows of shrubs, a few she recognized as oleanders by their pretty white flowers. Beyond those were large pots of unfamiliar vines. Some were covered with yellow-green blooms that resembled little helmets, while others were adorned with a mixture of purples and blues. The sweet fragrance coming from these flowers tickled her nose, and she pulled out her camera. After snapping several pictures, she leaned over the rope to pull one closer.
“No!”
She jerked back as Karen ran up.
“Those are all poisonous,” the older woman said. “You have to wear gloves to touch them.”
“I thought only ingesting oleander was unsafe,” Jordan said, leaning away from the rope.
“That’s true, but what you were reaching for is monkshood.” Karen pointed to the purple and yellow flowers. “We’re extra careful with those, even wear gloves when we get them ready to ship to the drug companies.”
“Monkshood?” Jordan stared at the beautiful plants, finding it hard to believe something that lovely was so dangerous. “They’re used in medicine?”
“Homeopathic remedies,” Karen explained. “We ship them to health food stores all over the country. They make what they call aconite with the dried leaves and roots.”
“Aconite? What’s it used for?” Jordan asked.
“A variety of things, mostly to treat inflammatory ailments like arthritis and rheumatism. Some people even use it for colds and the flu.”
“I thought you said it was poisonous.”
“It is, in high doses,” Karen said. “That’s why we have to be very careful when we handle it.”
“Wolfsbane is another name it goes by,” Brenda Sue added. “In older times, they coated the tips of arrows with the juice and used it to kill wolves.”
“It’s also been used to commit crimes,” Karen continued. “One dentist even filled his father-in-law’s teeth with it and almost got away with the perfect murder.” She laughed. “Know anyone you’d like to see dead?”
Jordan grinned, remembering the man who’d left her tied to a tree surrounded by feral hogs several months before. Thank the Lord he was behind bars, because if she’d known about the poisonous flower then, he might not be protected by the criminal justice system now.
“Don’t you worry about working with it?”
“We’ve never had a problem, although I have gotten nauseous once or twice after processing it for several hours at a time. I’m sorry I scared you, but there’s no sense taking chances.”
“I agree,” Jordan said, nodding. “So I guess I won’t be choosing this one for my bouquet. What’s the yellow stuff behind the oleander?”
“Saint-John’s-wort,” Karen said. “That’s my moneymaker.”
“They’re pretty enough to lift someone’s spirits just by looking at them,” Jordan commented before glancing once again at her watch. “I could spend the entire day here with all these colorful flowers, but I’d better wrap this up and get on my way.”
“Did you decide which flowers you want for your bouquet?” Karen asked, pulling a pair of snippers from her apron.
“I love the yellow roses at the front.”
Karen headed that way. “Then that’s what you’ll take home.”
Jordan started to follow, but both she and Karen stopped when Brenda Sue’s phone rang.
“It’s Marcus. I’ll just be a minute.” Brenda Sue turned her back to them and spoke so low, Jordan couldn’t make out what she was saying—not that she was eavesdropping.
A few minutes later, Brenda Sue faced Jordan, nervously biting her lower lip. “Marcus finished up his business in Fort Worth earlier than expected, and he’s on his way home.” She grabbed Jordan’s arm and gently pushed her to the door. “The next time you visit, we’ll spend more time with all these wonderful flowers, Jordan.”
After thanking both Karen and Brenda Sue, Jordan walked to her car, confused by the hostess’s abrupt dismissal. On the ride back to town, Jordan glanced down at the beautiful bouquet, hoping the flowers wouldn’t wilt before she found a vase for them. The day had been surprisingly pleasant, and she could see Brenda Sue becoming a good friend. The subject of Rusty’s death hadn’t come up, which was just as well. Jordan had already decided the relationship between them had been more than just friendship.
From what Carole Anne Summerville had said at the memorial service, Rusty had introduced her to Cooper and Brenda Sue to Marcus Taylor right before he ended his relationships with them. Jordan got the feeling that Rusty might have had a wee bit of a commitment problem. Setting up the women in his life with other men was one sure way to get out from under the pressure if he’d been unwilling to give either of them what they’d obviously wanted.
But Jordan suspected things were not all rosy in the Taylor household, and she wondered if Rusty’s death had anything to do with it. She’d picked up on subtle signs, like Brenda Sue being so distant on the phone that morning and then acting like Jordan was her long-lost friend later when she’d arrived.
And she’d been the perfect hostess until that last phone call from her husband.
Talk about a one-eighty demeanor change!
What was up with that? Was she so jealous that she didn’t want any of her female friends around him? Or did she not want him to know Jordan had come to the ranch for a visit?
No matter the reason, after the call, Brenda Sue couldn’t get Jordan out the door and on her way back to town fast enough.
CHAPTER 8
Jordan spotted the only available table at Mi Quesadilla the next day at lunch and quickly set her tray down to claim it. She hadn’t been back here since she’d first met Alex, and the memory made her insides tingle. It was probably the only time in her life she’d ever left chips and queso on the plate.
What was it that made a girl pretend to eat like a bird when there was a good-looking man nearby? Growing up with four brothers had taught her if you didn’t eat everything on your plate—and eat it quickly—there was a good chance someone would swipe it and shove it into their mouth before you could open yours to protest.
She and her siblings had inherited their mother’s metabolism. Unfortunately, Patrick, the oldest, was beginning to sprout a spare tire since he’d broken his ankle and had been unable to play pickup basketball for a few months. Thoughts of her childhood in West Texas always made her homesick, although having Danny stay with her for a few weeks was probably more than enough of a brother fix for a while.
Jordan glanced at her watch to make sure she had enough time to sit and eat her lunch. She’d have to inhale it if she wanted to get back to the office in time. She’d stopped by Tomorrow’s Treasures to chitchat with Victor and had gotten caught up in his excitement over a shipment of antiques he’d purchased from across the Texas border in Durant, Oklahoma. Ever since he’d bought the store from his former boss, he’d gradually added inventory as his wallet allowed. This latest purchase came from an estate sale and, according to him, was a steal.
As she slid into a chair and reached for one of the tacos on her plate, Jordan spied a young woman she recognized from the Ranchero Globe. She remembered her name was Sandy because once when Brett, her ex, had called, the woman had rescued her by buzzing in and giving Jordan the perfect excuse to hang up.
In her early thirties, Sandy wore her short dark hair in an old-fashioned style. With her nondescript black slacks and a white blouse, she was the stereotypical girl next door.
When she caught Jordan staring, she made a vague effort to smile, but Jordan noticed tears streaming down her face before she closed her cell phone and glanced away.
Jordan picked up her tray and carried it over, feeling like she owed her a return gesture of some kind. “Mind if I join you?�
�
Sandy swiped at the tears. “I’m not much company today.” She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose.
Jordan flopped down across from her and took a long sip of her Diet Pepsi. “I’m Jordan McAllister.”
“I know who you are.”
“It looks like you could use some company. I’d like to return the favor.”
Sandy glanced up. “Favor?”
“Remember when you rescued me from a phone conversation I didn’t want to have?”
First confusion, then remembrance reflected on her face. “Oh, yes, I do remember.” She sniffed. “I’m usually more social, but I’m not having a great day.” Reaching across the table, she shook Jordan’s outstretched hand. “I’m Sandy Johnson, by the way.”
“You’re way more social than anyone else at the newspaper, Sandy,” Jordan said before she could stop herself. Her mom always said she needed a filter before she spoke.
But Sandy didn’t look annoyed at the obvious rip on her coworkers. “They’ll come around. Big-city girl with all your smarts coming to their neck of the woods scares them, I guess.”
“Big-city girl?” Jordan laughed. “I grew up in Amarillo in a house with two acres. We never even locked our doors at night. Does that sound like ‘big city’ to you?”
Sandy grinned, reaching for her lunch. “Guess not, but we all heard about how you were the sports reporter at UT. Most of us at the newspaper graduated from Grayson County College and will probably never work anywhere but the Globe.” She sipped her drink. “Guess everyone thinks you’re going to act high and mighty.”
“That’s interesting,” Jordan said. “Here I thought everyone avoided me like the plague just because I wasn’t a local.”
Sandy laughed out loud. “There is that. Ranchero is very cliquish.”
“Tell me about it. I—” Jordan stopped midsentence when Sandy’s phone rang.
After glancing at caller ID, Sandy put the phone in her purse. “No way I’m talking to that man again. He’s already ruined enough of my day.”
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