I stared at the knife. I hated to think it, but Larry had more motive than I’d even imagined. Not only his recent run-in with Derek, but Miranda had jilted him. But no way could I put Larry’s cherubic face on top of the body of a cold-blooded killer. Then again, I couldn’t place him side by side with Miranda Rawling, either.
“I’m going to pay Larry a call,” I said.
“What on earth for?” Liv asked.
“I told him I’d give him a new key to the shop since Bixby took his.” I placed the master key in my purse. “I can make a copy at the hardware store before heading over.”
“Why not give it to him the next time he comes to deliver flowers?” Liv asked.
I shrugged.
“Wait until we close up, and I’ll go with you,” Liv said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out to the greenhouses.”
“You just want to go to make sure I don’t do anything that would embarrass you.”
Liv smiled. “And there’s that.”
Amber Lee laughed. “I don’t know what you guys have up your sleeves, but why don’t you head on out? Shelby and Darnell are due in any minute, and I can close up.”
“You sure?” I said. “I mean, I know you can. You’ve been doing a marvelous job. I just don’t want to impose.”
But she shooed us on, and soon Liv and I were cruising across Ramble in the CR-V—if you can call the five-minute trip a cruise. We checked at Larry’s main greenhouses.
“He’s at the new site,” one of Larry’s employees said.
Even better. We could get a look at the lemon Derek had stuck him with.
“Want me to call him?” he asked.
“No, that’s okay. We’ll find it.”
He gave us directions, then added, “I hope I got that right. I haven’t been up there since we cleaned it out.”
“He has different guys working there?” Liv asked.
“No,” he said. “He put us all here and he does all the work up there himself. He keeps telling us to wait, that it’ll all make sense. Said he found a way to make that place pay for itself after all.”
Liv remained silent as we headed out to the rented greenhouse. I surmised she was dying to tell me “I told you so,” but this new added bit of secrecy in the otherwise transparent gentleman seemed to throw her a curve. It was throwing me a curve, and I was the one who’d wanted to go see him.
But what could he be hiding in that greenhouse?
We bumped along the old road that led to the place: deep country, potholed, and narrow, with the shoulders overgrown with weeds. A single-lane gravel driveway led up a steep incline, where we could make out Larry’s truck. I gunned the Honda up the drive, parked behind him, and pulled the parking brake. Even then, the CR-V jerked back a few inches when I lifted my foot off the brake pedal.
The massive greenhouse was the sole asset on this property, and the weeds grew high right to the structure. A small field nearby might be suited for seasonal cut flowers but would need a good clearing, and it didn’t look like any work had been put into the endeavor.
“Do you see him?” Liv asked.
I shook my head. I walked to the greenhouse and tented my eyes to peer inside. I could see row after row of seedlings and plants in various stages—roses in the back. Midway through stood a worktable, and I could just spy the shape of a knife resting on its surface and wondered if it could be one of the twelve. Of course, if the Rose in Bloom knife were present, that would clear Larry, right?
“I’m going in there,” I said.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Larry’s voice rumbled, humorless and firm.
I turned around. “Oh, hi. We were just looking for you.” I smiled. “I . . . uh . . .” I dug into my purse, fingered a bottle of mace that Brad once gave me for my protection, then left it to fish out the key we had made on the way over. “We brought you a new door key for the shop.”
He stared at the key in my open palm for a few moments, then stepped forward to accept it. “Thanks, but you didn’t need to bring it out here.”
“It was no problem,” Liv said with a nervous giggle.
“No problem at all,” I added.
Larry pulled out a ring of keys and added the new one to the mix.
“You know”—I forced a lighthearted tone—“I’ve never seen these greenhouses. Care to give us the grand tour?” I took two steps toward the door.
Larry shuffled to bar my way. Grim faced, he looked at me, then at Liv, then back to me. “Sorry,” he said. “I’d rather not. Not today, anyway. The . . . temperature. Opening the doors too much causes temperature fluctuation, and these plants have been stressed enough as it is. Maybe some other time, eh?”
“Sure.” Liv inched backward. “We’ll just . . . be heading back to town. Right, Audrey?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Audrey?” He looked pained. “Is that why you drove out here? To bring me the key?”
I managed a nod.
He ran a hand through his shock of hair. “All right, then. Take care going down that drive. It’s pretty steep. And I’ll let you know when I’m ready to show you around. It’s only . . .”
I shrugged. “No problem. Some other time, then. See you later, Larry.”
Larry smiled and waved as I took care backing the CR-V down the long gravel drive. We were halfway to town before either of us spoke.
Liv broke the ice first. “I don’t know what to think. Grandma Mae was always such a good judge of character. But that . . . that was creepy weird.”
A chill ran up my spine. “Yeah.”
Chapter 17
I dropped Liv back at the shop to pick up her car, but I couldn’t prevent her from going in to do more work. And since I couldn’t let her work alone, I followed her. I figured I might as well look over my appointment book and put together some ideas for the bridal appointments scheduled for later in the week. Time to start shifting my focus back to that aspect of my work.
Amber Lee rolled her eyes when we trudged back in through the door. “Can’t live without the place, or don’t you love that husband of yours anymore?”
Liv shuffled through the mail on the counter. “He’s working late tonight, so I might as well get a jump on things as well.”
I hung up my purse and glanced at the takeout menus on the bulletin board. “Barbecue?” I said hopefully.
“Sounds good,” Liv said. “With extra honey corn bread. I’m famished.”
“Well, all right,” I said. “Amber Lee, you staying?”
“As much as I’d like to . . . I have a date.”
“Ooh, a date, is it?” Liv asked, always the matchmaker.
Amber Lee shook her head. “None of your business.” She teased us with a smile as she closed the door behind her.
Liv and I stared at each other with raised eyebrows. But then hunger won over, so I called in our order. Liv kept adding things to the menu before I could hang up. Baked beans, corn on the cob, slaw, and their red-skinned potato salad. Good thing, too, because Eric arrived just as the food came.
We set up a buffet on the checkout counter and took our plates into the gazebo to eat. Quite the trendy picnic spot of late.
“I thought you were working tonight.” Liv poured lemonade into foam cups.
“I am.” Eric pointed to the file of paperwork he’d set on the table next to him. “I just realized I could spare time to eat. And I wanted to discuss something with you.”
“Maybe I should let you two have some time alone.” I picked up my plate. I was willing to leave, but not without my pulled pork.
“No, Audrey. This concerns you, too.” He stopped to spoon a huge heap of slaw onto his pork. “Mainly you, I think.”
“Me?” His serious visage made me feel like I’d been called down to the principal’s office. If he started lecturing me on makin
g Liv work too hard, he’d get an earful on the real identity of the taskmaster in our organizational chart.
“I took a good look at some of Derek’s paperwork,” he said. “Trying to get an idea of the job ahead of me.”
“How does it look?” I opened a pat of butter and slathered it on my corn, then licked a couple drops that escaped onto my fingers.
“Odd,” Eric said. “He was skimming, all right, taking just enough from each business to not get noticed. Other properties he just left to fall apart, like he didn’t care.”
“He probably didn’t.” Liv snagged another slice of corn bread. “If he didn’t think they were going to make him money.”
“Or if he had to invest ready cash into them to make a go of them,” I added.
“Right,” Eric said. “It seemed to be a matter of spending as little as possible, even if a small investment would have turned a big profit later on. For example . . .” He wiped his hands on one of the moistened towelettes the restaurant had provided, then dried them on a clean napkin before pulling a page from his folder and holding it up for me to see.
I leaned in for a better view. It seemed to be a rental listing for an old restaurant. Only the condition of the building, with the weeds grown up and the cracked parking lot, would have made renting almost impossible. “I don’t recognize that place,” I said.
“No,” Eric said. “It’s closer to DC. But it’s a good property remaining vacant, when a little elbow grease could make it hugely profitable.”
“Real estate out that way is through the roof,” Liv said. “Are you going to fix it up and try to rent it?”
“I’d like to,” Eric said. “Except Mr. Rawling told me not to worry about it, to focus my concentration on buildings closer to Ramble. I don’t know, maybe he’ll get someone else to manage his more distant holdings. But I’ll ask him about it again, maybe after I have a few weeks or months to gain his confidence. The building’s got good bones, even if it needs some work. It shouldn’t go empty like that.”
A knock at the door interrupted our conversation. Liv started to rise, but I told her that I’d get it. As I rounded the corner, I couldn’t make out the face in the gathering twilight, but I knew of only one regular customer who wore white.
“I saw the light on,” Nick said. “And wondered if you wouldn’t mind an off-hours sale to a tired businessman.”
Oh, yes, his regular bouquet for whomever.
He stopped to sniff. “What is that?”
“Barbecue,” I said. “Would you like some? Liv ordered enough for a small army.”
“My mother would be appalled at my manners, but yes, I’d love some. Anything not made of flour and sugar would be great right about now.” He followed me up to the gazebo.
Eric shifted his file over to make room for Nick, and Liv poured him a lemonade.
“I’m afraid the corn bread is gone,” she said.
“No matter.” Nick squinted at the rental listing Eric had set down. “What’s this?”
“Oh, just a property that Derek managed,” Eric said.
“Eric is going to be the new property manager for Rawling Properties.” Liv’s voice held more than a hint of pride.
“Well, that’s good news for me, too, then.” Nick reached across the table to shake hands with Eric.
Eric wiped his hands well with a napkin before accepting the handshake.
“That’s right,” I said. “You’d mentioned that you rented from Rawling.”
“Most business owners here do,” Nick said. “I was a bit surprised to find out he didn’t own this place. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind buying my building, if Rawling would ever think about parting with it. I mentioned it to Derek a few times, but . . .”
“Give me a chance to get my feet wet in this job,” Eric said, “and maybe we could run some numbers.”
“Fair enough.” Nick tapped the rental listing. “You know, I think I recognize that place. That used to be the place for a romantic dinner.” Nick glanced at me, and his face colored a little bit. “But it’s been closed down for years now. Even in its sad state, I’m surprised no one rented it.” Then he took a closer look at the listing and whistled. “This is way overpriced for the condition it’s in.”
Eric snatched the paper back. “I hadn’t noticed that. Maybe that’s why it’s still vacant. But it’s not my problem, I guess.”
I had difficulty swallowing my pulled pork, and it had nothing to do with the meat, tender and tasty as always. “Did Rawling have many properties he didn’t want you to ‘worry about’?”
“No, as a matter of fact, just this one.”
I bit my lip. “Isn’t that odd? A building that close to DC could be taking in a heap of revenue. I can see why Derek didn’t bother with it, if it needed work, but I can’t see Rawling passing up a buck like that.”
“What are you thinking?” Liv asked.
“I’m thinking something’s fishy about it, like he’s trying to hide the place.”
“Hide?” Nick said. “A whole restaurant?”
“Well, not hide it,” I said. “But keep people from becoming too interested in it.”
“Deliberately keep it vacant?” Eric said, studying the listing. “Why?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t mind taking a peek around.” I shoved my greasy plate and utensils into the empty takeout bag.
“Rawling didn’t give me a key, I’m afraid,” Eric said.
“See, that’s even fishier. What if this is tied into the Rawling secrets? I would kind of like to see what the place looks like.”
“It’s just an old abandoned restaurant,” Eric said.
“And in not the best neighborhood,” Nick said. “I mean, it’s not a ghetto. More industrial, but . . .”
“But it’s a nice night for a drive,” I said. “Clear skies and supposed to be a full moon. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re going now?” Liv said. “Hold up. I’ll ride along with you.”
“Not a good idea.” Eric turned to his wife. “I don’t want you running around all hours. You’ve been working hard. Look”—his voice softened as he took her by her shoulders—“I need to get back to the office for a couple hours, but I want to know you’re safe at home, catching up on your sleep, not running half across Virginia on a goose chase.”
Liv’s lip jutted out, just for a split second, but then she nodded.
I headed to the back room for my purse. I was precisely in the mood for chasing geese. When I came out, Nick was tossing his keys in the air.
“Ready?” he said.
“For what?” I asked.
“Nick agreed to go with you.” The corners of Liv’s mouth betrayed the smile I knew she tried to hide. “Isn’t that nice?”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Eric said. “Besides, he knows the neighborhood.” And yes, Eric had become well familiar with my uncanny ability to get lost, even with a GPS.
“I don’t want to trouble you,” I said. “It could be just a silly hunch.”
“No trouble,” he said. “Like you said, it’s a nice night for a drive, and it would be kind of interesting to see the old place again.”
And then I wondered. Nick said it was once the romantic place to go. Had he taken her there? The recipient of the flowers?
Chapter 18
“You got cake back there or something?” I asked. I can’t say we went for a romantic drive in the country. No romantic drive I’d ever been on—not that I counted myself an expert in these things—ever involved sitting in the passenger seat of a bakery truck inhaling the intoxicating scents of sugar, vanilla, and . . . was that almond extract? Then again, maybe they should.
“Yes,” he said. “Last-minute cancellation. I was supposed to deliver two sheet cakes over to the assisted-living complex just outside of town. Fiftieth anniversary party.” He shook hi
s head and sighed. “Sad thing.”
“Don’t tell me one of them died on their anniversary.”
“Nope. He caught her cheating on him with her canasta partner. Canceled the whole party.”
“You know, that’s almost worse.”
He chuckled. “Still, they made it forty-nine years, three hundred and sixty-four days. They might figure it out yet.”
“I suppose.”
“Some humdinger of a wedding the mayor threw for his daughter.”
I bristled in my seat. Better to face it head-on. “Not my most stellar moment.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m afraid the photographer didn’t get your good side this time.”
What did that mean? Did Pippa make my butt look big?
“I mean,” he said, “not that you have a bad side. I didn’t mean to say the picture was unflattering . . . I . . .”
“Nice try. I’m just glad I didn’t take down the whole cupcake tower. I’d have to change my name and move.”
“It wasn’t that bad. Although Carolyn seemed a little upset that you were stealing her spotlight. I heard her talking to her father midway through that little dance-a-thon—”
“Let me guess.” I attempted my best Carolyn impression. “‘Daddy, make them stop.’” Then I tried her laugh, that nasal titter her poor groom would endure the rest of his life, unless Carolyn took up canasta.
Nick’s genuine laughter filled the truck, and it made me laugh, too, the tension-relieving laughter that doctors say is good for you. I hadn’t wiped away the tears of laughter when his next words came.
“So,” he said, “are you and that mortician guy serious?”
“Serious about what?”
“I mean, are you an item?”
“Little Joe and me?” I let out a sigh. “I suppose he’s interested, and there’s more than a few people in Ramble who’d like to see us together. He’s tall, you see, and somehow they think that makes us an ideal couple. But he’s not my type, so I try not to encourage him. Besides, the first time he asked me out, it was still too soon after . . .”
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