A Taste of Trickery (Japanese Tea Garden Mysteries Book 3)

by Blythe Baker

  “Something happened a couple nights ago and I haven’t told anyone about it.”

  He scooted closer, until his knee was nearly touching mine.

  In almost one long breath I told him about the first note I had received and the meeting at the bell tower at the Mission.

  “I didn’t see a face. When they ran from the tower and escaped into the trees I was too busy dangling from that rope to get any kind of physical impression of them. But, judging by their strength, I think it was a man.”

  He stared at me for several seconds.

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  My cheeks reddened. “Because you would have told me how stupid it was of me to actually go there alone, that I could have been killed, and that I needed to just stay out of all this business and let the police handle it.”

  “Yeah, Maddie, I’d have said something like that.” His face was shadowed with concern. “Look, I know you don’t think anyone cares about what is happening here but they do. I do.”

  “Michael, everyone in this town thinks the guys at the stone quarry can do no wrong just because they’ve lived here for so long. That Zane Jones guy is as good a suspect as any. But for some reason I get the feeling that everyone thinks it must be me who’s the problem.”

  “Maddie, these things move slowly. And what would have happened to this place or the garden or Mamma Jackie if you weren’t able to pull yourself out of danger the other night?”

  It was a hard pill to swallow. But I hadn’t thought about Mamma Jackie at all when I went to meet that mysterious informant. I didn’t think about the garden either. Although I’d never even whisper the words out loud, the only time I thought of Michael was when I thought about how much of his job I was doing. He was right. I didn’t think of anyone.

  Maybe it was time I started confiding in Michael a little more.

  “Well, I got another note,” I said. “A different meeting spot.” I grabbed my purse and pulled the letter from it. I handed it to Michael and watched his eyes as he read it.

  “What do you think? Want to come shopping with me tomorrow?” I asked.

  “When did you get this?”

  “Just now. It was mixed in with this morning’s mail.” I pointed toward the front door.

  “So, while we were all outside trying to find the branch that nearly injured one of your patrons, this letter shows up. Kind of coincidental, don’t you think?”

  “You think the person sending the notes is the person trying to close my business? You think they went back and took the branch, hoping we wouldn’t find that tree again? If I couldn’t find the tree, no one would ever know the branch was cut. I could just be sued for having an unsafe place. Doors closed. End of story.”

  “But we did find the tree. The boy was smart enough to take note of the natural landmarks around. Lucky for us.”

  Michael’s knee was touching mine as he leaned on his elbows and looked down at the floor in thought.

  “Is that a yes? You’ll come shopping with me tomorrow?” I nudged him.

  “Absolutely. But I’ll meet you there.” He looked at his watch and then stood up. “Look. I’ve got to get back to the station. I have the feeling your house might be being watched. I’ll call you later to discuss the plans. This time you’ll be better prepared.”

  “Okay. Until then, what should I do?”

  “Just go about your business, Maddie. Enjoy the rest of the day and if you are being watched pretend nothing has changed or is bothering you in the least. It’s another day of visitors and souvenir shoppers. Life is good.”

  “I think I can do that.”

  “Okay, I’ve got to get back to work.” He leaned forward and kissed me firmly on the lips.

  I was mildly surprised but before I could think of anything to say, Michael was already heading to the front door.

  “I’ll call you,” he said before opening the door.

  “I’ll be ready,” I replied and waved.

  As soon as the door was shut and I was alone, I slumped back in my chair and sighed.

  So, I was really going through with this meeting tomorrow. At least Michael would be with me. Maybe it would be a better experience than what had happened at the bell tower.

  True to his word, Michael called me later that evening, while I was sitting on the front porch. He couldn’t know it, but I was keeping an eye on the movement in Alice Merrick’s house down the street. A few lights went on and off. But no doors opened. No cars came or went. Tomorrow was garbage day and the trashcans weren’t out yet.

  “Okay,” I answered Michael. “I can do that. Okay. Well, I’ll see you then.”

  The plan was set. I’d be going to the cocina al aire libre by myself. I wasn’t scared. There would be a lot of people and the sun would be directly overhead.

  “Maybe this person is really trying to help,” I muttered to myself, after hanging up with Michael. “Maybe I was followed to the Mission and this informant left before I even got there.”

  I tried to convince myself that the informant was trying to help. To think that they wanted me hurt or even dead was too much to digest. Who would do that? Who would tell a person they wanted to help when they really wanted to kill them?

  “A murderer. That’s who.”

  I went to bed with that thought on my mind. I slept but my dreams were far from restful.

  17

  “Hunting for a new husband?” Mamma Jackie asked as soon as I walked downstairs. The way her eyes drifted up and down my outfit and how she raised her chin in order to frown made me realize she was in a rare good mood.

  “What, I can’t look nice to go out in the world?” I was wearing an orange skirt and a white blouse with strappy high-heeled sandals that maybe weren’t the most practical things for a day of walking.

  “If you want to look desperate, by all means.” She pointed toward the kitchen. “Coffee’s on. If I’d waited for you it would have been five in the evening before a pot was put on.”

  “Did you eat anything?” I asked.

  “Why do you care?”

  “I’ll scramble you some eggs. Or I can make you a peppers and eggs sandwich before I go. I’m going to have one,” I offered.

  “No, I don’t like how you cook eggs.”

  “Fine.”

  “You’d probably just try and poison me,” she continued. “Uncooked eggs cause salmonella.”

  “Why do you insist on thinking I’d go through some elaborate scheme like food poisoning to kill you? If I shoved you off the veranda you’d die just as easily.”

  “That’s funny to you?”

  “I take murder very seriously.”

  “I don’t know what Drake ever saw in you.”

  “Well, you’ve got me there. I couldn’t tell you.”

  I topped off her coffee and poured myself a cup. Within a few minutes I had prepared an egg sandwich on toast that I set on the TV tray next to my ex-mother-in-law’s chair on the veranda. No matter what she’d said, I knew she was hungry.

  It was a matter of minutes before the plate was completely empty and Mamma Jackie was wiping her mouth contentedly with a paper napkin, while she read her book.

  I’d actually made a sandwich for myself too but realized I was too nervous to eat. My stomach was doing flips. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Michael had gone over the instructions on the phone with me, but now I was running them through my mind on an endless loop for fear I might forget some crucial step.

  “I need to do some shopping at the cocina al aire libre,” I told Mamma Jackie. “If you go out, can you lock the house up?”

  “Sure, leave me alone. If I slip and fall I’ll just lie on the floor until you get back.”

  “Well, make sure you lock all the doors before you fall. Thanks, Mamma Jackie.”

  Our conversation was interrupted by an unexpected screech from the bird cage just inside the open doorway.

  “Rawk! Shut-up, Lazy!”

  “Quite, Moonshine,” I cooed as if
I were talking to a baby.

  The bird squawked again and flapped his wings.

  The cocina al aire libre, The Outdoor Kitchen, was a popular marketplace that sold a little bit of everything. Of course, a person could find over a hundred different kinds of hot peppers, beans, and tortillas but they could also find leather cowboy boots, Day of the Dead candles, snakeskin purses, and turquoise jewelry. Vendors sold anything from candy to dresses to sombreros to flowers. The storefronts were wide open almost all the time and featured beautiful dessert artwork, traditional cowboy images, and of course great homage was paid to wolves and horses.

  When I first came to Little River I had been told to check this place out. Expecting a tourist trap of recycled Texas stereotypes I was surprised to see the place was as unique as Little River itself. Sure, some tourists came by but the prices were evidence that these people were making an honest living.

  I made a small list of a few things I was going to look for while I was here. And as Michael had suggested over the phone, I was getting to the market two hours early.

  Locating the flower stand that I was supposed to meet my mystery informant at was pretty easy so I got myself familiar with everything and everyone around the area. There were a couple orange EXIT signs to the left. A long aisle lined with other shops was to the right. Surveillance cameras were randomly placed on the ceilings of some shops. If I had to make a quick getaway, I was fairly confident I could get out of harm’s way.

  Even at this early hour, the place was busy. People strolled up and down the rows of produce. Like busy ants, they went in and out of the shops, carrying bags or pouches with their treasures in them.

  It was easy to forget the real reason I was at the market. Strolling around alone with my thoughts was soothing, even though there were lots of people around. It was meditative, a pleasant distraction from severed hands and mysterious messages and mission bell towers.

  I had a few dollars trying to burn a hole through my pocket. Several displays of lovely scarves were screaming to catch my attention. I wanted one of those extra wide dusters with the fringe ends in a bright color like red or purple. It took no time to find a quaint little shop close to the flowers that had exactly what I was looking for. They also had a wide variety of animal printed scarves that I was sure one specific crabby old lady I knew would like. Whether or not she’d appreciate it I wasn’t sure. But the iridescent snakeskin patterned scarf was too tacky for me to walk past.

  After I purchased the gift for Mamma Jackie, I looked at my watch. It was time for me to meet my informant. Slowly, I began to stroll toward the florist’s huge display in the middle of the market.

  The smell of all the different blooms was invigorating. I looked at the varieties and was seriously shocked that so many flowers were beautiful but unfamiliar to me. I was slowly expanding my knowledge of plants by tending the tea garden but it was obvious there was an entire horticultural world I knew nothing about.

  As much as I wanted to write down the names and ask the owner questions about his inventory, I had to focus. I had no idea where Michael was hiding among the crowd. Nor did I dare look for him. It had to appear as if I’d come alone, because I had no idea if I’d been followed. For all I knew, there could have been several people following me, watching from the moment I got into my car back at the house.

  These thoughts were starting to freak me out. My heart began to beat faster as I looked again at my watch. 11:57 a.m.

  Movement out of the corner of my eye pulled my head to the right. It was just a plump middle-aged woman picking herself a couple of exotic orange roses.

  To my left, I saw a group of seniors making their way down the aisle. There were quite a few retirement homes in and around Little River. This was probably one of those outings where they took everyone on a bus to visit the cocina al aire libre for a change of pace. There were quite a few elderly people walking with canes or rolling along on motorized scooters. Some looked like they were having a better time than others but wasn’t that always how field trips went?

  Not wanting to get in their way, I inched back against one of the display racks of flowers, hoping I was leaving enough room for the mob to pass by. But before I could look behind me to make sure no one was there, I felt a hard crack against the back of my head. My first thought was that a bucket of flowers had fallen loose and struck me. But then I felt two hands push me into the slow-moving crowd of seniors.

  I tumbled roughly, taking a couple elderly passersby down with me.

  The entire area turned into a circus.

  I felt the weight of more than one person crash on top of me before they rolled off onto the sidewalk. My neck was stretched forward. My elbow hit the cement right on the funny bone sending waves of pain up through my arm. A cane or walking stick came down square on my ankle, the same ankle that had only lately recovered from my recent fall from the garden tree.

  “Oh, my hip!” one old woman yelled as she lay prostrate next to me.

  “Where are my glasses?” an older man cried out.

  “I can’t get up!” another man shouted.

  There were half a dozen cries of “What happened?” There were other shouts of “She fell into us!”

  Everyone was pointing and staring at me. I hadn’t gotten up because my vision had blurred and there was ringing in my ears.

  Someone was shouting for an ambulance to be called.

  I raised my hand to the back of my head. It was wet. Great. It wasn’t bad enough that I was in a sea of injured people who would probably blame me for their injuries but someone had spilled water on me too. Then I looked at my hand. It wasn’t water; it was blood. I was bleeding from where I’d been struck.

  Now my vision really blurred and I felt woozy. My stomach flipped as I tried to focus. The noise of people shouting and groaning made me feel like I was in the middle of a war zone. I was sure this devastation stretched on and on, consuming half the shopping center and at least ninety-five percent of the old folks who had been enjoying themselves just minutes before.

  “Move aside, please!” I recognized one voice cutting through the noise. “Maddie! Maddie, are you all right?”

  Before I could say anything, the entire scene went black.

  18

  My eyes popped open to a blinding florescent light. For a moment, I thought I’d died. But I was being jostled around too much. Plus, I could hear voices talking about blood pressure and stitches and concussions.

  “Maddie? Can you hear me?” It was a woman’s voice. “Just nod your head if you can.”

  I did as I was told and pried my eyes open further. I hadn’t died. There were lights, tubes, stacks of bandages and rubber gloves, needles, and a small garbage disposal with the Haz-mat symbol on it. I was in the back of an ambulance.

  “That’s good, honey,” the woman continued. “Now can you tell me your full name?”

  “Maddie Morgan,” I murmured.

  “Great, Maddie. Now, do you know who this is with you, holding your hand?” the EMT asked.

  Whether it was stress, relief, or fear, I wasn’t sure. But my eyes filled with tears.

  “It’s Michael.”

  I felt him squeeze my hand and I squeezed back hard. This was humiliating. I had gotten all dressed up. I was going to meet a person who said they had information for me. I’d been tricked before and still hadn’t learned my lesson.

  The EMT kept moving, checking my pulse, taking my temperature, applying pressure to my head and flashing a penlight in my eyes.

  I hated how weak and helpless I felt.

  The EMT said, “You’re doing great, Maddie. But you’ve got a cut on the back of your head and will probably need stitches. I just want you to relax. We’ll be at the hospital in no time.”

  Her no-nonsense tone was comforting. I did as she asked but squeezed Michael’s hand as if I were drowning and it was my life preserver.

  “Did you see him?” I squinted as I whispered.

  Michael’s face was calm o
n the surface. But I could see the worry in the red rims around his eyes and the way he clenched his jaw.

  “Don’t talk now. Let’s just get you fixed up.” He smoothed my hair back with his other hand.

  “You didn’t. He got away, didn’t he?”

  “My guys are still looking around and checking surveillance tapes. Please, Maddie. Try and relax. There’s no use worrying about it now. We just need to get you back on your feet.”

  “He tricked me again, Michael. How could I be so stupid?”

  “You aren’t stupid for believing someone wanted to help you. In fact, you’re quite amazing to still have so much faith in people. After some of the things you’ve been through, I’d say you’re a real inspiration.”

  “My head hurts.”

  “Close your eyes. But don’t let go of my hand, okay?”

  “I won’t,” I answered.

  I continued to hold on tightly to Michael as the ambulance took what felt like a four-hour drive through all of Little River. In reality, we were probably at the hospital within ten minutes.

  Once there, I was pushed through some doors and then through more doors, before being wheeled into an empty stall at the very furthest end of the emergency room. Half a dozen people zipped back and forth around me, talking over me as if I wasn’t supposed to be involved in the conversation. I was cool with that. I didn’t even want to talk about what had happened. I wanted my “take a painkiller and call me in the morning” instructions and a cab waiting outside to drive me home.

  Michael wasn’t allowed back with me yet. But I knew that he’d be flashing that badge in a couple faces in order to gain access to me once the doctors and nurses were satisfied I wasn’t going to die.

  “I’m not going to die, right?”

  Those words just burst right out of my mouth.

  “No, Miss Morgan. Not at all. But you do have a nasty bump on your head that’s going to require about three stitches.”

  The doctor was a young black guy who looked like a fashion model in a dark blue button down shirt that was tight across his broad chest. The white lab coat and stethoscope around his neck made him look much more doctor-ly.