Roses and Daisies and Death Oh My!

by Penny Clover Petersen

  “Someone tried to kill Roscoe the cat. Maybe it’s a satanic cult. Or a group that’s the opposite of PETA. Maybe PWRHA. Although that’s hard to say.”

  “PWRHA?” asked Rose.

  “People Who Really Hate Animals.”

  “Well, if it’s animals that they’re after, they’re doing a lousy job,” said Rose. She studied her list for a moment. “Okay, what do Marcus Worthington, a royal diamond, Marc Proctor, Ted Williamson, a lunatic slut letter-writer, your sore head, Malcolm and Roscoe’s brush with death, and PWRHA have in common? Nothing! This makes no sense.”

  “You’re absolutely right. I’m going to bed.”

  They started their walk as soon as the sun was up next morning. Both sisters were bundled up and Daisy had put a green sweater dotted with sparkly snowflakes on Malcolm. He also sported a new collar with bells on it.

  “Mother gave him a red sweater, too. It has candy cane striped dog bones with ribbons. I got him the collar. I figured everyone should have fair warning that he’s near. It’s my Christmas present to humper-phobes everywhere,” said Daisy fondly rubbing Malcolm’s head.

  “Are those what she was giving out at the pound? A new sweater to kick the bucket in?”

  “No, she and Lolita just took dog treats. And their time and attention which I’m sure meant a lot to the dumb mutts. I think we should meet Lolita. Mother doesn’t need any help being goofy. So far her suggestions have been innocuous, but you never know.”

  “Maybe we’re missing the boat here. Maybe Lolita, manicurist/psychic extraordinaire, could figure out what’s going on here,” said Rose.

  “Ooh, Christmas Days! We could see if Lolita would read palms,” gushed Daisy.

  “A palmist for Christmas? That’s a little over the top. It might offend some people.”

  “Well, maybe she could just read auras or something, not the whole palm thing. We had jugglers and a mime one year. What’s wrong with a gypsy?

  “And, no, I don’t really think she could discover dark secrets. I just think it would be another draw for the weekend.”

  “It could be fun. I’ll call Mother as soon as we get home.”

  Angela was absolutely over the moon about the idea. “I’m sure she’d love to do it. I know you think this would just be for fun, but I’m telling you she might ferret out who killed that man and save the police a lot of trouble. She’s very good! Let me call her right now.”

  Angela called back at noon and said that Lolita would love to help out.

  “But she’d like to collect for the SPCA, if that’s all right. Like the carolers do. She’s a true animal lover. She belongs to PETA and only wears cloth shoes. She really wants to see if she can get a reading from Roscoe and Malcolm to find out who attacked them.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem,” said Rose. “We’ll have a table set up for her in the sunroom. Malcolm can sit with her and encourage big donations.

  “And I talked to several other owners this morning and they would love to have her come by during the day. That way she can really get a feel for the area.”

  “I can’t wait. This will be so exciting. I’ve made six dozen sugar cookies so far. I’m making oatmeal tonight and chocolate chip tomorrow. That should be enough, don’t you think? Is there anything else you need me to do? You know I look forward to this weekend every year.”

  “Oh no, Mom, you’re doing more than your share now. I don’t want you wearing yourself out. We need you bright eyed and sparkling on Saturday. So please, don’t over do it.”

  “Rose, what else do I have to do? Helping my girls gives me pleasure and I love to bake. I’ll see you bright and early Saturday morning in my Christmas best. I love you, sweetie.”

  “I love you, too, Mother. Bye.”

  Daisy looked out the window and saw Bill’s car pull up in front of Lost Treasures. A few minutes later Marc and Bill came out, got into the police car and drove away.

  “Was Marc in handcuffs?” asked Rose.

  “No, they were talking when they walked out and both got into the front seat. I wish I knew what’s going on.”

  “Well, he wasn’t arrested and that’s good. We’ll catch him when he gets back and ask him to come for dinner.”

  “You must be losing business having to close for two days now. What did Bill want this time?” asked Daisy as she handed Marc a cold Yuengling. The three were ensconced in the living room nibbling on shrimp cocktails before dinner.

  “Thanks. It’s been another hell of a day.” He sighed. “Business is okay. Nearly all of my important clients I see by appointment. Most of the foot traffic is only looking.

  “As a matter of fact, I think I have a customer for that roll top I showed you.”

  “The beautiful desk with the hidey holes in it?”

  “That’s the one. I hate to see it go, but someone has to pay for my lawyer. Speaking of which, your ex told me they found a shack by the old railroad tracks Ted was using for a home.”

  “I know. Bill told us the other day that they found the shack and all of the little stuff that’s gone missing.”

  “Well, that’s not all they found. There was a letter Ted had written and Greene wanted to know what I knew about it. It looks like Williamson was trying to blackmail someone. The police think it was me, but there isn’t enough proof of that. Thank God.”

  “What was in the letter?” asked Rose.

  “It was strange. ‘I warned you once and you didn’t listen. I saw what you did. If you don’t want everyone to know, leave a key where I can find it. I don’t want much. Just food and a place to keep warm. If it’s not there tonight, everyone will know what you are.’

  “Greene thinks Ted was going to send it to me. He thinks Ted was talking about the theft of the Maryland Fleur de Lis all those years ago.

  “And that’s pure conjecture on Bill’s part. Since I didn’t have anything to do with stealing that diamond, it’s going to remain conjecture.”

  “Who could Ted have been writing to? It sounds like he’d already written one note. What could he have seen? The break-ins would be the obvious thing, but it looks like he did those himself. I can’t imagine what else it could be. Someone having an affair?” wondered Daisy.

  “Some sicko torturing animals?” answered Rose.

  She looked to Marc and said, “Mother is helping out this weekend and her psychic friend, Lolita, is coming, too. She’s going to read auras and try to find the cat-dog-Daisy bashing person among us.”

  Marc smiled and said, “Your mother and a psychic hunting for clues. Should be interesting.”

  Friday morning The Shop Owners of Old Towne met at the Tavern for the last time before the weekend. They all liked the idea of a gypsy fortune teller roaming the shops. Mary Newhart asked excitedly, “Is she really psychic? I would love for her to tell my fortune.”

  Daisy said, “Is anyone really psychic? I do know that when Malcolm and I were attacked, Lolita told my mother she needed to get over here.”

  “Well, I can’t believe you think she’s appropriate for a Christmas celebration!” said Hazel. “But what do I know?”

  Marc said, “That’s too bad. I think she’ll be fun.”

  Rose said, “It’s not that much different than the jugglers and the mime we’ve had before.”

  “Well, I’m not certain we shouldn’t cancel all together,” said Hazel. “Break-ins, tramps stabbed in the back, people attacked with fence posts. What’s next?”

  “That’s why we need to make this Christmas Days weekend our best yet,” said Lenore Albert.

  “I agree,” said Daisy. “We need to show everyone that Old Towne is a great place to shop!”

  Daisy asked Marc, “Speaking of which, did the deal go through on your roll-top desk?”

  “Yes! I’m sending it out on Monday. Why?”

  Daisy laughed. “I was halfway hoping to buy it after the holidays.”

  Rose said, “It’s just as well. Where would you put it? Come on, Daisy, we’ve got a
lot to do.”

  Saturday dawned brightly. The air was crisp, just enough of a chill to get into the spirit, but not enough to keep people away.

  Daisy and Rose got busy making Wassail punch for the carolers and other worker bees. That was kept in the office. They also had non-alcoholic eggnog and an apple cider punch for the patrons.

  Angela got there at eight pm with dozens of decorated cookies. She also brought two beautiful braided coffee cakes shaped like wreaths for the workers.

  “Good Lord, Mother! You’ve outdone yourself,” said Rose. “And you look positively festive! Daisy and I look like old Scrooge next to you.”

  The sisters each had glitter in their hair and wore Christmas sweaters, Daisy’s red with candy canes, Rose’s black with snowflakes. They looked pretty Christmassy.

  But Angela had outdone herself. She was Mrs. Santa! She wore a long white wool dress with puff sleeves and red buttons on the long cuffs. And a bright red apron with candy canes sticking out of the pocket. Her hair was piled on top of her head and covered with a red mob cap. Granny glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

  “I wanted to make the day special. And I found out I actually read better with the glasses!”

  Lolita arrived at quarter to nine. Neither Rose nor Daisy had known what to expect, but they had both been thinking someone dark and mysterious. Lolita was neither. She was short, chubby, and bouncy with red curly hair and freckles. Her gypsy outfit was just what the season ordered, a Christmas green peasant dress cinched with red, gold and green scarves. A matching multi-colored bandana was pulled over her hair. On her feet, as promised, were gold cloth dancing slippers.

  “I’m so glad you could help us on such short notice,” said Rose.

  “Me, too,” added Daisy. “I think we’re going to have quite a weekend. We’ve set up the table in the sunroom for you. And whenever you like, you can visit any of the other shops.”

  “You’re mother explained all of that to me. This will be great fun. I have to say I’m getting a healthy, happy vibe from your shop. Where is Malcolm? I haven’t met him, yet. But I’ve heard all about him.”

  Daisy said, “We had been planning on leaving him outside in his igloo today. He’s totally harmless, but has a slight problem with self-control.

  “But when Mother said you’d like to collect for the SPCA we figured he’d better sit with you. He’s promised to be a very good dog.”

  “Great! I’ll be able to read his reaction to the people who come by. Maybe he can tell me who attacked him.”

  “Well, if his reaction is to start humping customers he’ll just have to go outside,” said Rose. “By the way, the only shop that isn’t too keen on having a gypsy is Hazel’s. The Book Renew. I told her you wouldn’t be by. I have the feeling she doesn’t approve of the psychic thing.”

  Daisy said, “Let’s see how things go. Maybe Hazel will have a change of heart tomorrow if you’re a big hit today.”

  Doors opened at nine o’clock and by ten the streets were crowded with people enjoying the holiday spirit. Daisy, Rose, Tonya and Angela could hardly get a breath.

  Rose had been concerned about Malcolm’s behavior with so many people coming and going. But he sat next to Lolita looking for all the world like he was a normal dog having the time of his life.

  “I do believe that Lolita really can communicate with that dog. Look at him. I’ve never seen him so well behaved,” said Rose to her mother.

  Lolita was a huge hit with everyone. She spent the morning in Champagne Taste giving out sage advice and warm feelings. In the afternoon she wrapped herself in her woolen shawl, visiting other shops and wandering around the street.

  She joined the carolers in singing Jingle Bells and Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. The Salvation Army bell ringer did his best business when Lolita joined him with her tambourine.

  By Sunday morning even Hazel had to admit that Lolita was just a very nice woman who could make animals behave and people feel good. She asked Daisy if she would send her over to the book shop.

  “Sure. I can’t believe the hit she’s making. I just thought a psychic would be a novelty, but I think she really can sense things. I’ll bet Roscoe will love her.”

  Daisy got to Book Renew about four o’clock. The little shop was filled with people. Marc Proctor and Mary Newhart were there, as well as five or six customers.

  Lolita came in shortly after and Roscoe came out of hiding as soon as he saw her. He perched on her lap when she sat down and looked up into her eyes. Suddenly, Lolita eyes filled with tears. Daisy noticed and went over to her, “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Roscoe. I think he’s trying to tell me something, but I just can’t understand him. This feels so odd. Something sure has him spooked. Poor little fellow.”

  “Do you think that maybe the person who attacked him is here now? Could that be it?”

  “Maybe. Yes, I think it might be.”

  Daisy looked around and saw Hazel, Marc and Mary. She noticed that Sandy Peters and Walt Miller had come in a few minutes earlier. They all looked perfectly normal chatting with each other and a couple of customers.

  “Do you want to stay? Why don’t you call it a day? It’s almost closing time, anyway.”

  “You know, I think I will. This has been so much fun, but I have to admit that I’m pooped.” She gave Roscoe a hug and put him down. He ran off to his hiding place.

  Later that evening, Daisy and Rose were in the shop alone cleaning up. Daisy had told her sister about the strange effect Roscoe had on Lolita.

  “How well do we know these people? Really, I mean. What if Lolita is right and someone who was there is the person who attacked Roscoe? Is that possible?”

  Rose thought a minute and said, “I don’t really want to ask this, but do you think Marc could have done it? He did know Ted Williamson and he was working in his shop the night he was killed.”

  “No. I don’t. I don’t believe he’d hurt anyone. And why would he attack a cat or a dog, or me? I just don’t believe he did.”

  “Maybe Bill is right. Maybe we should just be a little more careful until the police can find who did this. I don’t really think it was Marc, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

  “I just wish this would end. I hate looking at people and wondering.”

  “Me, too,” said Rose. They turned out the lights and went upstairs through the connecting door. At the top of the stairs, Rose stopped to turn on the alarm system. “Did you recheck the locks downstairs?”

  “You know I did. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’ve just got the, what does mother call it, the jumpy jitters.”

  Chapter Eight

  Rose’s jumpy jitters hadn’t gone the next morning and Malcolm was infected with them, too. He woke both Daisy and Rose jumping on their beds, licking their toes and then running from room to room whining.

  “Okay, okay, you silly mutt. I’m up,” grouched Daisy as she pulled herself out of bed and went down into the kitchen where Rose was putting on water for tea. “I love owning our own shop most of the time, but this time of year, it’s seems like too much.”

  “Only two weeks more and we’re home free. I’ve been thinking about your suggestion last night. I think we should each take a day to get our own shopping done and get a break from here. Or, at least, half a day.

  “What is it Malcolm? You really need your walk this morning, don’t you? Daisy, do you want to come? The sun won’t be up quite yet, but it will be too late to go if we wait.”

  “You bet. Give me five minutes.”

  With Malcolm in tow and bundled for the morning cold, Daisy and Rose made their way down the stairs to the front porch. The sky was still dark, but the street lights were on and Daisy had brought a flash light. Daisy and Rose turned left toward the park, but Malcolm balked and pulled in the other direction. “Come on Malcolm. This way,” said Daisy as she tugged at his leash. But he started barking and refused to budge.

  “Malcolm what
is going on in that minute doggie mind of yours? Let’s go, we’re running out of time.”

  In one quick bound, Malcolm tore the leash out of Daisy’s hand and made a dash across the street toward Lost Treasures.

  “Come back here, you stupid dog. I’m not playing chase this morning.” She stood on the sidewalk and waited for him to come back.

  Rose looked across the street and said, “Marc’s car is there already. He’s not usually in this early.”

  “He said he was delivering that desk today. The van will probably be here soon.” Daisy called Malcolm again, but he was busy investigating the porch. “I guess I’ve got to go get him. He’s probably looking for something to have a little morning hump with. I’ll give him a morning hump right on his big, fat head!”

  She ran across the street and up the steps of Lost Treasures, then called back to Rose, “Come here.”

  Rose trotted across and met her sister on the sidewalk. “What’s going on?”

  “The door’s open and I can’t hear anything. It spooked me.”

  “Marc just didn’t close it properly. Did you call him?”

  She and Daisy went up the steps and Rose tapped lightly on the door and called out, “Marc. It’s Rose. Are you in there?”

  Malcolm whined and backed up from the doorway.

  Daisy knocked harder and the door moved inward. She stuck her head in and called, “Marc?”

  To Rose she said, “Something’s not right here. Why aren’t the lights on? Should we go in?”

  “No. Are you crazy? How many times have we seen the incredibly dumb ‘movie-of-the-week’ heroine go through the open door into a dark house? And how many times is she attacked by a knife wielding psycho or, at least, clunked on the head by an unknown attacker?”

  “Every week.”

  “And what do we yell at the TV each time? We yell, ‘Don’t do it, you idiot.’ So all in all, I think we should consider the idiot factor and call someone.”

  “If we call someone and nothing’s wrong we’ll feel like absolute fools,” retorted Daisy.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time. Daisy, you’ve already had one clunk on the head. Do you really want another?”