Flower Power Trip

by James J Cudney

  I cleared my throat and cast a menacing look at my sister. “I think you've had too much to drink already. I heard you went to the doctor recently. What was that all about?” I turned to my father and let him know that while Helena had been arrested, it was not going to stick.

  “Finnigan will clear the charges, since she's not guilty. Those Roarkes are too wonderful to do anything bad. It's a shame that things didn't work out with you and Maggie, huh, Kellan?” My father had finished most of his second scotch by then and was eyeing the bottle.

  Eleanor knew we were swimming in rough waters. My father had made it clear in the past he didn't like Francesca. Given she was alive and only Eleanor and I knew, we needed to steer further away from the topic. My father would be smart enough not to say anything rude in front of Emma, but I still needed to put a pin in the conversation. Eleanor jumped in first. “You know, Dad, Maggie is definitely worried about her sister. Kellan has been helping to investigate. He's looking into the Stoddards and George Braun's history in Chicago. Do you know anything about them?”

  I poured more wine into Eleanor's glass. She deserved it. “That's right, did you ever meet them on campus?”

  My father took his seat at the head of the table. “Yes, I met Karen when Millard Paddington introduced us. She's also helping plan the Mendel flower show, I believe.” He and my mother had skipped the library's costume extravaganza, so Ursula could assume full leadership of Braxton without her predecessor still looming over the campus. “Never met the Braun fellow. It's unfortunate he was murdered in the library. That won't make things any easier for Maggie with the renovation plans.”

  My mother, Nana D, and Emma marched into the dining room like three wooden soldiers carrying dinner. The housekeeper had prepared the meal earlier in the day. All my mother had to do was heat it up when she got home from work. Cooking was not one of her strengths. “We're having a divine lobster risotto with homemade cheese biscuits and haricot vert.”

  “She means green beans with fish and rice,” Nana D reminded everyone. “Between you and Deirdre, half my kids think they're Food Network gourmands. I think not!” She exaggerated her words as though she were a high-class snob with an ego the size of the eastern Wharton Mountain range.

  “Yes, Mom. Thank you for clarifying our meal, so Emma knows what she's eating,” my mother said in an increasingly agitated voice. Although they got along well under most conditions, they had little in common when it came to domestic affairs. “Speaking of Deirdre, she's on her way home. I'm so excited.”

  “Really? I didn't know,” I said. Her name had been popping up quite a bit lately, but I never expected a visit. No one died or got married. That I was aware of. Wait, I needed to check today's obituaries.

  After my mother scooped portions of lobster risotto, Nana D added the vegetable as each plate circled around the table. Emma dropped a biscuit on everyone's dish and said 'order up' in a deep voice like Chef Manny. Was she spending too much time at the diner? At least there were two biscuits dropped on my plate. My daughter knew my fondness for bread came second only to desserts.

  Nana D sighed. “She's flying back with Lissette Nutberry. The poor woman has been trying to track down her sister. From what I understand, she learned some shocking news and asked Deirdre to accompany her.”

  “Lissette mentioned Judy was hard to reach lately. I wonder if she ever found her.” I helped Emma to cut her green beans in small chunks. She loved vegetables but hadn't mastered using a knife.

  “I don't know. Deirdre promised to call me when she arrived. She'll be staying at the farmhouse for a couple of days.” Nana D said grace prior to eating, and at the end felt compelled to add, “And may the good lord bring home all the other members of our family, such as Gabriel, who was forced to leave Braxton when some of us couldn't be more open-minded about their jobs and egos.”

  Dad was quiet for the rest of the meal until dessert arrived. By the final course, they'd always broker a truce. He couldn't ignore her baking skills and had finally thrown down that gauntlet years ago. “It was delicious. Thank you both very much, but I have a call to return from Hampton. He's looking at real estate in the area and wanted my advice. It's always wonderful to know my children still need me. Not everyone is smart enough to recognize that.” Had he scowled at me as he left the room?

  My mother and Nana D retired to the den to watch a television show. Eleanor opened the third bottle of wine. We'd agreed to clear the table, wash the dishes, and clean up the kitchen. The cooks deserved a break, and we were happy to get a few moments alone. Emma emptied the dining room, but then I told her she could hang out in the game room. My parents kept tons of toys, puzzles, and surprises for all the grandchildren when they visited.

  “Not too difficult tonight,” Eleanor thoughtfully tossed out while we scraped the plates into the garbage disposal. “I only counted seventeen dirty hits. Lower than average.”

  “I thought I'd lose it when Dad brought up my break-up with Maggie,” I responded while practicing my three-pointer shot with the tablecloth in the laundry basket. “Thank you for helping redirect that conversation.”

  “Anything new on the dead-not-so-dead-wife front?” she inquired. I shared my theory on Francesca's parents still hiding her away in their mansion to torture me and influence me to move back to LA. Eleanor didn't think they'd do something so underhanded. “Despite everything that's happened, they want the best for all of you. I think something else is going on.”

  “Speaking of something else going on… have you talked to Connor? I know he's been supporting Maggie through this whole ordeal with Helena.” I checked my phone, wondering how Ursula's reconnaissance mission to the Stoddard restaurant was going. She hadn't updated me since we last chatted three hours ago.

  “He and I scheduled a date for next week. He is seeing Maggie, but they're not serious right now. It's the modern way of doing things, Kellan. We millennials date a few people at once until something clicks. It's not the olden days when couples like Mom and Dad went steady,” she said in a flourish while loading plates in the dishwasher.

  Why did this millennial thing keep coming up around me? Was there that big of a generational difference to account for? “I suppose I could get behind that. What about the whole baby thing?” I asked hesitantly. She hadn't brought it up in a couple of days.

  “I'm not sure. I told you that earlier. When I know, I'll spill. For now, zip it, big brother. You made your point loud and clear the other night.” Eleanor wanted to seal the gap on that topic for now, which I happily understood and agreed to.

  My phone vibrated. “It's Madame President. I need to take this. Can you check on Emma?” Eleanor agreed and ambled to the game room. I answered Ursula's call.

  “You were right. Karen's the assistant.”

  “What happened?” I asked, hoping to learn something important to clear Helena. I didn't exactly dislike the Stoddards, but if one of them killed George Braun, they should be held responsible.

  “It's a long story, but I'll give you the condensed version.” Ursula explained that Karen was shocked when she showed up at the restaurant. The woman first acted confused, but once Ursula mentioned Hans and the explosion, the look on Karen's face gave away the truth. “It was almost like she relived the past right there in front of me.”

  “So, she's definitely the assistant who was around the day of the accident? I'm so sorry.” I shook my head at the drama unfolding around everyone in my life.

  “Karen claims she loved Hans and was devastated when he died. She blamed me for his death, and that's why she told the cops and the newspapers that I caused everything. She purposely wanted the media to spin all the coverage, so it looked like I was the bad guy.”

  “How does Doug fit into the picture?” I said.

  “After Hans died, she married Doug. They'd been casually dating, but the fire brought them closer together. Karen moved on and never looked back once she got pregnant with Cheney.”

  The timing sounded
awfully convenient. “I suppose that's a possibility. Do you think she's lying about which man is Cheney's father? Could Cheney be your nephew?” I asked trying to compare and contrast their facial features and mannerisms. I hadn't spent enough time with either Karen or Cheney to make a solid assessment.

  “I need to see a picture of Cheney, I can't be certain.” Ursula indicated she'd been worried Karen might reveal the truth to someone in the media again, but when she asked her about it, Karen was apologetic. “The woman told me the past is in the past. Hans was dead at this point. She wants to rebuild a life with her husband, son, and daughter in Braxton. She won't hurt me, she promised.”

  “Did she know George was Hans this whole time? Was she helping him?”

  “I outright asked Karen if she'd been involved in delivering the notes. I told her George was stalking me and threatening to hurt me at one point.” Ursula noted that Karen acted upset, almost as if it was all unfamiliar news.

  “So, she denied being involved with George or Hans on any level?”

  “Not exactly. Claims they ran into one another at the Mendel flower show. He asked for her help for old time's sake. She thought it'd be a great event to launch her and Doug's company in Braxton.”

  “Be careful. I don't think she's telling you the whole story.” If Hans was Cheney's father, Karen might have killed him to keep the truth from coming out. On the flip side, if Doug learned he wasn't Cheney's father, or that Karen was having an affair, he might have murdered Hans in revenge.

  Ursula asked for a day to think about everything that had happened. We agreed to reconnect once I had a chance to speak with Helena and Sheriff Montague. If the sheriff found anything new contradicting what Karen had told Ursula, we'd have a solid lead. As I hung up, I saw in the reflection of the window Emma and Eleanor skulking past the kitchen with foam Nerf guns. They were going to sneak attack my father in his office and my mother and Nana D from behind the couch. I was definitely on board for that type of distraction.

  Chapter 16

  Nana D agreed to watch Emma on Saturday while I organized a schedule around the various conversations I needed to hold. Gabriel agreed to meet after his lunch with Millard to discuss the upcoming flower exhibition. Since Maggie and her parents were visiting Helena at the prison in the afternoon, there'd be time in the morning to see me. Detective Gilkrist led me to a second-floor waiting room in the Wharton County administrative building which housed the county's entire court system and main prison. Petty criminals were kept overnight at the local jail in the nearby sheriff's office until they were seen by the judge for a decision on bail. If it was granted, the arrestee could leave the building until their hearing or trial began. If they were denied bail, they were moved to the main prison. Since Helena was being held on a murder charge until she could see Judge Grey on Monday, they'd transferred her to the main prison immediately.

  Security buzzed me into the visiting area after I was allowed to speak with Helena. The space was painted an off-white color and had little room to move around. Detective Gilkrist told us he'd return in twenty minutes and that a guard was posted outside the door. Helena sat on the other side of a glass wall preventing us from any physical contact, and we spoke via two phones that connected underneath the thick barrier. She was in a dingy, light gray jumpsuit and wore no makeup but looked better than I'd expected.

  “At least I'm not wearing those stripes yet,” Helena teased after we'd sat down and picked up each phone receiver.

  “You survived your first night. Only two more to go before Finnigan gets you out hopefully,” I said. Helena told me he'd explain everything he'd learned about the case against her later that afternoon. They would prepare on Sunday and present the best possible scenario of why she should be released on her own reconnaissance at Monday's hearing with the judge.

  “Finnigan doesn't think they'll deny bail. I'm not a flight risk. Their case isn't completely solid.”

  “I'm sure he's got your best interests in mind. There are a few questions I need answers on, if you expect me to help.” I offered my best pseudo big brother worried look and hoped the glass window between us didn't distort my intentions.

  “Ask away. I've got plenty of time apparently.” She tapped her fingers on the counter in front of the glass. Helena handled her stint in prison better than I would if the roles had been reversed.

  “I need to get hold of Cheney without his parents around. I think he's hiding something. If you won't tell me anything else, I'll have to ask him directly.”

  “I didn't hear any question there,” Helena said, shrugging her shoulders and looking at me with a coy expression. “Should I assume you want me to tell you how to find him?”

  “That would make my job a lot easier,” I noted.

  “Cheney didn't do anything. I trust him, but I wouldn't have blamed him if he did. His parents aren't very honest people. He found something out that upset him when he spoke with George. I don't know all the details. You'd have to ask him.”

  “Go on. I'm glad to see you're opening up and trying to protect yourself. What if the Stoddards are involved in George Braun's death?”

  “Doubtful,” she said scratching her nail on the counter. “I don't know them all that well, but they don't seem like killers to me.”

  “Someone murdered the man.” I knew in my heart Ursula hadn't murdered the guy. Looking back, the shock on her face was one-hundred-percent authentic when she realized he was her brother. I wasn't certain at first, and the stain on her shawl had confused me, but she would've told me the truth if she'd done something stupid and accepted the consequences of her actions. “How can it hurt if I talk to Cheney? I won't tell him you sent me. I'll feel him out to see if he's comfortable talking about whatever he'd learned.” I waited a minute before Helena finally responded with something helpful.

  “You might find him at happy hour at Kirklands, a pub in Woodland.” Helena indicated they had two-dollar beers starting at four o'clock every day. It was remote enough that I could also suggest the location to Gabriel for our catch up.

  “What else do you want to know?” she asked. “I appreciate everything you're doing. I don't mean to be rude, but this place is boring. I want to get out as quickly as possible.”

  “Working on it. Are you sure there's nothing else you recall about George Braun that might lead me to another suspect? How about the name Hans Mück?”

  “Don't recognize it. I told you he met with some woman about the flower show. Maybe it was his girlfriend or wife. He had one but rarely talked about her.” Helena leaned forward on the counter and rested her head against the glass.

  The guard banged on the door to startle Helena before poking his head in the room. “Don't forget I'm watching through this window.” She turned halfway around making a quick gesture in his direction.

  Since Helena's back was to me, I couldn't see what it was, but I had a feeling it was highly inappropriate. “Young, old? What'd she look like?”

  “I only saw her for a second. She could've been anywhere from early twenties to late forties, maybe even fifty. She had a kerchief around her head, so I couldn't see her hair or any facial features.”

  It might've been Anita Singh. I also hadn't seen a picture of Sierra Stoddard. “Have you met Cheney's sister?”

  “Nah, she just got back last week from Switzerland. She finished her first year at law school in London, then went skiing before coming back to the States for the summer. Cheney was gonna introduce me to her this weekend.”

  “Could the woman you saw with George have been Sierra?” I asked. Had they met in Switzerland at some point?

  “I guess it's possible. I don't know the exact date Sierra arrived in Braxton, but I think it was before I saw this woman talking to George. Cheney would know for sure.” Helena cradled the phone against her neck and fluffed up her hair. “I need shampoo. Maggie better bring the good stuff. I think they gave me generic body and hair soap to use this morning. How uncivilized!”

  “Yo
u look fine. Focus on listening to Finnigan this afternoon. Do whatever he tells you, he's the best.” I had no other questions for Helena, so we said our goodbyes. The guard escorted Helena back to her cell. Detective Gilkrist was tied up, but the sheriff wanted me to stop by if I had time.

  On the walk next door, I considered everything Helena had revealed. If Sierra was in Europe at the same time as George, Sierra could've been the one helping him get revenge on Ursula. Maybe she had something to do with his death? I texted my brother to meet me at Kirklands in Woodland at two thirty. It'd allow us enough time to chat before Cheney showed up for his afternoon buzz.

  I let the receptionist at the front desk know April Montague asked for me. I was brought to her office right away. “Little Ayrwick, I appreciate you stopping by. How'd your conversation go with Helena? Is she sticking with the same story?”

  “Helena is one tough cookie. She gave me a few ideas to follow up on, but nothing concrete. I'll let you know if anything comes to fruition,” I said.

  April's office was as understated as it'd been earlier in the week, except she now had a picture on her desk with a man she'd had her arms wrapped around. I knew she wasn't married but didn't know anything else about her. Where had she moved here from? Did she have a special someone in her life?

  In the brief silence, April caught me staring at the photo. “Darren was my fiancé. We'd been engaged for two months until someone gunned him down in a drive-by shooting six years ago.”

  That's what she meant the other day by knowing what it was like to lose someone. “I'm so sorry, April. I had no idea.”

  “I rarely talk about it. It wasn't a good period for me. The jerk who killed him had been released on bail after stealing a dozen cars and shooting a parking lot attendant back in Buffalo. I'd been the arresting officer. I could never prove it, but I think Darren was killed as a revenge message to me.”