Murder Borrowed, Murder Blue

by Stephanie Blackmoore

The reining doyenne of Port Quincy set down the rose she’d been admiring and offered me a chilling smile.

  “Mallory. We meet again. I was just letting Clarissa know that it would be advantageous if she remembered the Valentine’s Day party for the Daughters of the American Revolution. She is contracted to create quite a few arrangements for us, and she can no longer be of service to you.”

  “You snake!” I advanced toward Helene, then thought better of it. I stood rooted to the floor, quaking with anger. I didn’t need a charge of assault on my plate.

  “You would have done well not to cross me regarding the Winter Ball, Mallory, after all I did to put you on the map.”

  “I don’t need you to put me on the map! I’m hosting a celebrity wedding, haven’t you heard?” A fleeting thought zinged through my brain. I thought of Helene’s face, contorted with anger, when she’d soon realize Keith and Becca had absconded right from under her surgically enhanced nose. I felt my mouth twitch up in an inadvertent smile.

  “You dare to mock me?” My smile must have set Helene off. “I helped you renovate your B and B in record time, and you go behind my back?” She drew herself up to her full height, balancing on her kitten heels. “You can’t even keep people from expiring at your events.”

  “How dare you speak of Ginger that way.” Dakota took a step forward, no longer acting.

  “She got what she deserved.” Helene clapped a hand over her mouth, even she realizing she’d gone too far. With that, she swept out of the store, and I swore I caught a whiff of brimstone.

  “That horrible, horrible woman.” Tears coursed down Dakota’s face.

  Chapter Nine

  Helene’s grim threats haunted my thoughts as I drove Dakota back to Thistle Park. I had no idea what we were going to do for her flowers in such a short amount of time.

  “Don’t worry about the flowers. I’d rather catch my best friend’s murderer than have a single petal at this cursed wedding.” She promptly burst into tears, and I left her at the B and B, nursing a hot cup of tea. I checked on Xavier before I left, and his muffled reply told me he was napping. I headed out to Iris and Ellie’s greenhouse to brainstorm solutions for wedding flowers now that our florist connection was blacklisted by dear old Helene, suspect numero uno for Ginger’s murder.

  “We’ll just have to plant more bleeding hearts,” Ellie suggested. She held her hand out over the sea of distinctive flowers. We were loading up the plants onto a truck to transport them to Thistle Park. Iris, Ellie, and I were joined by Owen, and we performed the backbreaking work for an hour, the delicate blooms stacked in crates and ready for transport.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said this was hard work.” I wiped the back of my hand across my face, realizing too late I’d probably smeared some dirt.

  “It’s my favorite kind of work to do,” Ellie admitted. She stopped to take a sip of water. “Don’t get me wrong, I love being a drama teacher. And becoming headmistress was a dream come true.” A dark cloud marred her angular looks. “Not that I ever wanted to become headmistress if it meant Ginger getting killed. But this is what I would do if I had the choice. Just work in the nursery with my mother.”

  I took a swig of water and set the bottle down. “No offense, but if you want to work in the nursery, then why are you still teaching drama?”

  I thought back to my career as an attorney and how I had enjoyed some aspects of it, but ultimately was more fulfilled running my own business at the B and B and planning weddings. I couldn’t fault Ellie for not striking out and following her dreams, though. My current gig had been helped along by my surprise inheritance of Thistle Park from Keith’s grandmother, Sylvia.

  Ellie flushed and glanced around the nursery before answering. We were alone at the moment; Owen and Iris were shoring things up in the truck.

  “It’s kind of embarrassing that a woman in her early thirties is so beholden to her mother.” She let out a gust of air. “I guess I just followed the path my mom laid out for me, but I wasn’t too successful at it.”

  I slung an arm around Ellie’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You’re plenty successful. You’re a wonderful teacher, your students adore you, and now you’re headmistress. Are you still down about not getting the role on Silverlake High all those years ago?”

  Before we could answer, Owen came back with some empty crates. “Thanks again, Mallory, for planning the benefit for Helping Hands.” He stood next to Ellie, offering her a gentle smile. Ellie nervously brushed her hair from her forehead.

  “And I haven’t had a chance to formally congratulate you on becoming headmistress.”

  This time, Ellie blushed for real, a scarlet bloom dotting her cheekbones. “Thanks Owen.” She stopped playing with her hair and put her hand down, brushing Owen’s in the process. She nearly jumped a mile.

  Whoa there.

  There seemed to be some serious tension in the air. I wondered if Ellie and Owen had ever been a couple, and where Dakota fit into the equation. Ellie seemed nervous enough around Owen, and Dakota seemed rather smitten with him too. But she was about to marry Beau, his almost-kiss with Rachel notwithstanding. And Owen had admitted he had dinner weekly with Ginger. Was it just because they’d been such good friends, or something more? I couldn’t discount Owen as Ginger’s lover. It made sense. Maybe Ginger hadn’t told Ellie the identity of the man she was seeing and hadn’t told Dakota at all because she’d known they both had a thing for Owen.

  “We keep changing the plans for your black-tie event,” I admitted. I filled Owen in on our new plans to use the fake yellow-themed wedding for his gala, as well as Helene’s success in getting me blacklisted with one of the town’s florists. “But your event is several months away, so I suggest we just work with my usual florist, Lucy at the Bloomery.”

  Owen shook his head. “Ginger tried not to let Helene bother her, but that woman was obsessed with making her life impossible. It’s like Helene had a personal vendetta against Ginger. It went beyond their differences at school.”

  Ellie nodded and dug her hands into her pockets. “Ginger and Helene had a long-standing feud, ever since Ginger became headmistress a year ago. Helene thought she could walk all over her because Ginger was the youngest person ever to hold the position. They fought about modernizing technology at the school, over merging with the boys’ academy, and fundraising. Helene was used to running the board and influencing the members to do her bidding. Ginger put a stop to that, and people actually had a voice.” Ellie gave a rueful laugh. “Ginger didn’t even want to have the damn Winter Ball. If Helene hadn’t strong-armed you into throwing it for free, Mallory, the tradition would have been scrapped.”

  Interesting.

  “Tell me about the vote Helene was talking about before the ball started. She threatened Ginger about the board convening about something.”

  Ellie grew serious. “The board votes on serious matters that affect the whole school, like the proposed merger with the boys’ school. There’s an old-guard faction, led by Helene, and a newer faction that usually voted in line with Ginger. It’s kind of like congress. If there was a tie, and there usually was, Ginger as headmistress got to break the tie. Kind of like the vice president and the U.S. Senate. Helene couldn’t take it anymore, and was rallying alumni against Ginger behind her back.” She paused, her face more thoughtful. “Helene won one important battle. That old coot amassed enough support against Ginger to renovate the ballroom that led to the discovery of the time capsule. Ginger didn’t want to, but Helene pushed it through.”

  “So now you’re the tiebreaker.”

  Ellie nodded, then shivered. “I don’t want to contemplate whether Ginger was killed because she voted a certain way to break ties from board members.”

  Owen’s eyes went wide, and he took Ellie’s hands in his. “Be careful, Ellie. I wouldn’t mess with Helene Pierce. Or some of the parents at that school of yours, either.”

  He blinked when he realized what he’d done
and dropped Ellie’s hands as if he’d been holding live coals. “I’ve got to go. I have a meeting with a group of volunteers in an hour.”

  He offered Ellie a sheepish smile and ducked out of the nursery, leaving her to stare after him.

  “Why do you think Ginger hid the identity of her boyfriend?” I thought of the weekly flower delivery Ginger received from the Petal Shop and the lengths the giver had gone to conceal his identity.

  Ellie sat down on a worktable, swinging her long legs in thought. “Ginger was a private person in general. I’ve been wracking my brain to try to figure out who it could be. Believe me, Chief Truman has asked me enough times.”

  “Could it have been a student from the boys’ school?”

  Ellie cocked her head. “It’s possible, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  “Could it be Owen?”

  Ellie sat up and swung off the table in a flash. “No!” She realized her overreaction too late and toned down her outburst. “Ginger and Owen were just friends.” Her voice went flat. “I’m sure of it.”

  * * *

  Iris, Ellie, and I performed another hour of grueling work unloading the bleeding hearts to be planted in a few days. I took a shower and noticed I had the slight rash Iris had warned us we could get from handling the blooms.

  I brought Xavier some rooibos tea, which he gratefully accepted. He appeared to be on the mend, and I was cheered that he probably didn’t have the flu. I was just about to settle into making plans for Becca’s lightning-quick nuptials to my ex Keith when the doorbell rang.

  “You can use your office again.” Truman stood before me with a smile. “I bet you’ll be glad to get back to normal.”

  I shook my head and motioned him in.

  “I’m not sure if I can use that desk, let alone the room, ever again.”

  “Make that two of us.” Rachel sauntered over, and the three of us stared at the office and the yellow crime tape cordoning off the door.

  “I’ll do the honors.” Truman turned the handle and gave the door a gentle push. The crime scene techs had returned the room to its normal state. There wasn’t a single trace of fingerprint powder, broken glass, or even a whiff of the chemical smell. Still, I didn’t want to enter the room. It was too soon after Ginger had perished at my desk, and I could picture the scene all too vividly.

  “Let’s go somewhere else.” Rachel gulped, and Truman and I followed her to the parlor.

  “Do you have any leads on Ginger?”

  Truman sighed and ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “No one seems to know a single thing about Ginger’s mystery man. Now I’m not saying that’s who I think did it, but it’s an important piece of the puzzle.”

  “Can you get DNA from the wineglass at her house?”

  Truman chuckled. “DNA evidence takes months to process in the real world. This isn’t some TV show. We ran the glasses, but we won’t know for a while and I doubt it’ll hit someone in the system.”

  “Ginger got a weekly flower delivery, probably from the secret guy in question,” I rushed on, hoping Truman wouldn’t be annoyed.

  “Dammit, why don’t people tell me these things?” He thumped the table in front of him, the glass candy dish jumping. “How did you find this out?”

  I filled him in on my and Dakota’s unsuccessful meeting with Clarissa at the Petal Shop. Truman shook his head ruefully. “You’d think with a murder that people would want to share any pertinent detail. I can understand though why she might not have thought it had any bearing.”

  “I still think it’s Helene,” Rachel mused, unwrapping a strawberry candy from the now-settled cut-glass dish and popping it in her mouth.

  “She’s the most obvious candidate. She actually did threaten Ginger mere hours before we discovered her in my office.”

  “I know all this.” Truman selected a mandarin-orange candy for himself and viciously bit into it, cracking it in two. Ginger’s case must have really been getting to him.

  “I have another hunch,” I said with a small voice, selecting a butter-rum candy for myself. Rachel wasn’t going to be happy. “Owen had dinner with Ginger weekly. He admitted it himself. He didn’t say they were an item, but he seems to know so much about her.”

  Rachel cocked her hip and sent me a death glare. “Are you saying you think Owen Holloway, Port Quincy’s most eligible bachelor, is a suspect in the murder of Ginger Crevecoeur?”

  “I’m not saying anything,” I stammered. I felt my face heating under the glare of Rachel’s penetrating and miffed gaze. “But I think you should be careful.”

  “And why is that?” Truman crunched his candy and went digging for another in the fancy glass dish.

  “Because she has a date with him tomorrow night.”

  “You just don’t want me to get back in the saddle again!” Rachel flung a candy back into the dish in apparent disgust and crossed her arms.

  “I want you to be happy, but with someone nice who isn’t involved in a murder investigation!”

  Rachel shook her head, her tresses flying. “Owen isn’t involved, Mallory. He just happened to be best friends with Ginger.” She frowned. “I think.”

  Truman unwrapped a licorice candy. “I’ll look into Owen, and I want you two to be careful. No deputizing yourselves as amateur detectives, like you usually do, either.”

  We’d had our fair share of weird events and crimes taking place at Thistle Park, and I’d prided myself in helping Truman out a time or two.

  “We promise,” Rachel and I said in unison as we walked Truman to the door.

  Rachel rolled her eyes at me after Truman was safely down the walk. “I don’t appreciate you trying to find some reason for me not to be happy again.” She shrugged. “Not that it even matters—we won’t be in Port Quincy for long.”

  “You mean you won’t be in Port Quincy for long.” I couldn’t resist. I was still smarting from finding my sister’s pro and con list about doing the destination wedding show with or without me.

  “What do you mean?” Rachel took a step back, but I saw worry hiding in her green eyes.

  “Rach, I found your list. I know you’re considering doing the show without me.”

  My sister suddenly became very interested in examining a cuticle. When she looked up, her green eyes were wide and a little chagrined.

  “So it’s true, you’d really leave here? After you wanted to launch this wedding-planning business with me?”

  We both jumped as the front door swung open, an exuberant Summer and Adrienne piling in.

  “We’re back!”

  “Saved by the bell,” I told my sister.

  * * *

  Summer went off to play with Pixie again. She wanted to be a veterinarian when she grew up, and she loved all animals. At home she had a cat, Jeeves, who was Whiskey’s kitten and brother to Soda. But I knew she was lobbying Garrett for a dog as well. Adrienne and I headed off to the kitchen, where Xavier was bent over, his head stuck in the refrigerator.

  “Who moved my smoothie ingredients?” He rifled through the drawers, getting more and more agitated. His usual patchouli and Zen affect had dissipated in a cloud of annoyance. Adrienne moved to help him. But Roxanne was quicker on the draw and reached him first.

  “I moved them to the crisper,” she soothed, gently placing her hands on Xavier’s back to get him to move from the refrigerator. I thought Adrienne’s eyes were going to bug out of her head. “Here, allow me.”

  Roxanne was wearing another teenybopper getup, this time some painted-on jean leggings and a midriff-baring pink sweatshirt. She must work out like crazy, as her body was taut and gravity defying for her fifty-some odd years. She sashayed through the kitchen and amassed a pile of leafy greens on the counter, rifling through my cabinets until she found a cutting board. “I’ll do it,” she simpered and threw a glance at Adrienne. “I remember how you like them, Xavier.”

  “That’s okay,” Adrienne said quickly. She moved to take over the smoothie-making duti
es. “Xavier isn’t feeling well, and I know just how to make his drinks the right way.”

  “I can handle it.” Roxanne dismissed Adrienne with a flick of her wrist and a jangle of her bangle bracelets. She set to making a green concoction. Xavier looked so ill he probably didn’t care who made the drink for him. Adrienne stalked from the kitchen in disgust, and for once my heart went out to her. I followed her to the dining room, where she paced around the table.

  “The nerve of that woman!” She picked up a glass animal from the credenza and palmed it. “She thinks she can hover over Xavier because they once dated, oh, a bajillion years ago.”

  I gently removed the pink elephant from her hands lest she break it and motioned for her to sit down.

  “I guess they broke up when all that stuff went down with the death of Caitlin Quinn.”

  Adrienne blinked, probably wondering where I’d gotten that information. “They wouldn’t have lasted anyway. They have nothing in common.” She sniffed and stared at her naked left hand. “If I’m so good at planning weddings, why am I not engaged?” Twin tracks of tears traced down her beautiful face and I found myself consoling Adrienne. I wished I could tell her about the ring Xavier was planning on giving her, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

  “I’m sure it’ll happen very, very soon,” I counseled, secretly elated. If Adrienne was expecting an engagement from Xavier imminently, then the box I had seen on the table at Pellegrino’s with Garrett truly had been nothing. I even began to doubt that I’d seen anything at all. Perhaps it had just been a trick of the light.

  Adrienne must have felt better, because she turned back into planner mode. “How was your flower meeting? Is everything full steam ahead for Dakota?” Her tears dried at an alarmingly fast rate, and she was all perfectionist business again.

  “Er, about that. The flowers are a no-go, but—”

  “Oh, Mallory.” Adrienne stood, a condescending smirk marring her face. “You needed to have a backup! The first rule of wedding planning is to have ready and willing vendors at your disposal.” She sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “I’m personally worried about you and whether you can handle this wedding. You look so tired. This all should have been done ages ago. It really shouldn’t be this hard.”