Daisies For Innocence

by Bailey Cattrell

  “No kidding,” Astrid agreed. “At least it sounds like Detective Garcia is on your side.”

  “Well, she’s on the side of the truth, and that’s good enough for me. She didn’t seem too upset that I’d done some investigating on my own, either.”

  “Can you imagine working with Max Lang day in and day out?” Astrid asked.

  “Ugh.”

  “So what’s next, Nancy Drew?”

  I stuck my tongue out at her. “Now that I know who Josie’s other two clients were, I’m going to try to talk with them. With my luck, they were both out of town, too.” I rolled my eyes, then smiled. “At the Greenstockings meeting, Thea said she was going to meet with Sophia Thelane about doing more landscape work on their place, and I’m going to see if she’ll let me tag along. I have no idea how to get to Missy Renault, though.”

  “She has quite the reputation as a diva,” Astrid said. “Probably wouldn’t talk to you if you just showed up on her doorstep. And you sure won’t run into her at the Roux. She’s famous for being a staunch vegetarian.”

  “Good, because the last thing I want to do is hang out at the Roux Grill waiting for her to show up.” I sighed. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “You always do.”

  A blue jay landed on the edge of the birdbath, hopping in enough to get his feet wet. Below, the mnemosyne looked almost garish. Astrid hadn’t commented on it, which kind of surprised me. She wasn’t a huge gardener, but she was extremely observant. I thought for a split second about mentioning it, but couldn’t bring myself to. That flower, that plant was mine.

  At least until I learned more about it.

  Our impromptu breakfast finished, Astrid left for a round of dog walking and cat feeding. I readied the register and flipped the sign in the front window of Scents & Nonsense to OPEN. A few people were wandering the boardwalk, but it was early, and the weekend crowds hadn’t started to filter into town yet.

  I reached for the phone and called Thea. Her cell rang three times before it was answered.

  “Elliana! Did you know Thea has a picture of you that shows up when you call?” The voice was deep and instantly recognizable. The sound of it made me shiver. “You’re sitting next to a pile of compost.”

  Wonderful.

  “Hi, Ritter. Where’s your sister?”

  “Out talking with a delivery driver. She left her phone on the desk, and when I saw it was you, I grabbed it.”

  I said, “Listen, could you take a message for Thea?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “She mentioned that Sophia Thelane wanted to talk to her about a landscaping project. Would you tell her I’d like to go with her when she meets with Sophia?”

  “Fan girl, huh.”

  I snorted. “Not exactly. Josie Overland helped the maid at Sophia and Rance’s house. I just want to get a feel for how they got along with her.”

  “Elliana Allbright, intrepid detective.”

  “Hush, you.”

  He laughed. “Okay. I’ll pass on the info to her.”

  A customer came in then, and I got off the phone to help her. A tall woman, with angled features and a stooped gait, she waved me off. After browsing for a long time, she finally selected a neck pillow filled with flax seeds and cloves. I rang her up and got back to work on inventory.

  Traffic increased. I was wonderfully busy for an hour; then business slowed. I was pouring myself another cup of coffee when the door chimed again. I turned to find Ritter coming into the shop. Today he wore a T-shirt that left nothing to the imagination, and what I was starting to think of as his trademark jeans. As I watched he brushed his hair straight back from his forehead with one hand, but it bounded back around his handsome face as if it had a life of its own.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself,” I said, managing not to fan myself. “What’s up?”

  “You know the landscaping Sophia Thelane wanted to talk to my sister about?” He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Well, I’m a fair hand at such things, and Thea’s swamped at the nursery, so she asked me to meet with Sophia to find out a little more about what she has in mind. This afternoon.” He grinned. “You still want to come with?”

  I smiled demurely. “If that works for you.”

  He laughed. “Apparently she wants a retaining wall built by her swimming pool. I want to check out the one I saw out in your garden before I go up to her place this afternoon.”

  “The one with the mosaic?” I turned and pointed out the window to where Nabby sprawled on top of the wall. The butterflies had dispersed, but Dash was still tucked into the shade at the base, now seriously snoozing.

  He came to stand by me, his gaze following my finger. “That’s the one.”

  “Thea built that. It took her three days.”

  Ritter must have heard the skepticism in my voice, because he sounded a little defensive when he said, “Today, I’m just going to show Sophia a few pictures. That’s why I’m here, to take some pics. Thea will create the actual wall.”

  He stepped to the open door and went outside, then turned. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  I gulped. “Of course not.” I glanced out front, but no one seemed on the verge of coming into Scents & Nonsense, so I joined Ritter in the garden. “Take as many pictures as you want.”

  Taking his phone out, he did just that, varying the angles and level of detail with each one. Then he stepped back and stood next to me. He leaned toward me and asked, “When do you want to go?”

  I could feel his breath on my cheek. Unaccountably, he smelled of ocean and petrichor, that unique scent that fills the air when it rains after a long dry spell.

  He spoke again. “There is something about you, Elliana. I don’t know what it is.”

  A gust of air blew a swirl of petals off the Don Juan rose. They skittered around the stones at our feet, diving and dipping, then settled to the side of the path as the wind died down.

  Ritter watched them, then looked back at me with a surprised expression.

  A sign? Or the wind? I couldn’t help but grin. “How about two thirty, then?”

  • • •

  THE woman who wanted scented favors for her wedding reception had decided on the chocolate lotion bars. I was happy to oblige—working with the fragrant cocoa butter was a joy. Since Josie’s death, I’d fallen behind on so many things, but a glance at my watch told me I’d have plenty of time to make the bars before Ritter came back to pick me up.

  Moving to my production counter, I hauled out a single-burner hot plate from beneath it. I plugged it in but didn’t turn it on yet. Out came a battered, stainless steel pot, big stirring spoon, and a scale I’d originally bought for the restaurant but ended up confiscating for myself. In the office, which also served as a storeroom, I grabbed a chunk of beeswax, the container of raw cocoa butter, a gallon jug of olive oil, and some light almond oil that had been infused with Tahitian vanilla pods.

  Back at the counter, I measured and weighed out the first three items in a 1:1:1 ratio and added them to the pot. Once the mixture was warming on the hot plate, I opened the drawer under the counter where I kept all my soap molds, and selected two dozen aspen leaves, sunflowers, and seashells. Laying them on the counter, I stirred the melting oils and wax, inhaling the chocolate scent until my mouth watered.

  Luckily, I had Astrid’s cookies to take care of that.

  A family came in, and the father and two teenage girls were soon gathered on the other side of the counter. I explained what I was doing.

  “The cocoa butter is already a solid, but the olive oil is emollient, and soaks deeper into your skin. It’s too liquid at room temperature for a solid lotion, though, so the beeswax serves to firm it up. Also, beeswax is terrific for your skin.”

  Hearing me, the mother joined them. “Do you have any of those for sale?”
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br />   I pointed out the shelf where they were arranged, and she left to take a look. From the corner of my eye, I saw her examine the different “flavors”: vanilla, cherry, orange, and cinnamon—all scents that melded well with chocolate. I’d chosen the vanilla for the wedding favors because it was both calming and romantic—perfect for the occasion, I thought.

  Another customer came in from the boardwalk, and then two women. By the time I added the vanilla-scented oil to the mixture, I had quite the audience.

  With great care, I ladled the warm mixture into the molds, ending up with six dozen lotion bars.

  “And that’s it,” I said. “When they’ve cooled, I’ll unmold them and package them in boxes like you see over there.” Only I’d add pretty ribbons and a custom label to this batch.

  Everyone dispersed, but remained in the store or wandered out to the Enchanted Garden, munching on cookies and drinking tea or lemonade. By the time Maggie showed up a few minutes after one, I’d made several sales and was feeling quite pleased with myself.

  “Wow, Ellie! It smells amazing in here.” She headed to the office to stow her purse. Today she wore white slacks and a pink blouse with a silk scarf. It was nice to see her in something besides the Roux Grill uniform. “You should open the front door so people can smell it from the street. Like with the bakery, you know?”

  Pointing my finger at her, I said, “You are a genius.”

  She laughed and went to prop the door open. Sure enough, within a few minutes an older couple had wandered in off the street. Maggie invited them to have some cookies and look around, and once again I felt lucky that she’d wanted to work at Scents & Nonsense.

  Leaving her to watch things out front, I quickly made up the wedding-centric labels with the names of the bride and groom and the date of the ceremony using the graphics program I used for all my labels. Then I printed them out and set Maggie to affixing them to the boxes that the lotion bars would nestle into.

  “When you’re done with that, tuck some of this excelsior into each of the boxes for the bars to sit on.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  My cell rang. I ducked behind the counter to retrieve it and saw it was Astrid.

  “I’ve solved your problem!” she exclaimed by way of greeting.

  I went into the office and closed the door partway to get a little privacy. “You know who killed Josie?”

  “No, not that problem. The one about how to talk to prissy Missy the ice-skater.”

  Leaning against the filing cabinet, I said, “Do tell.”

  “I’m sitting here at my desk, calling clients to remind them of their pet’s appointments tomorrow, when I see her go into the gym across the street.”

  “And . . .”

  “And she’s dressed to work out! She’s going to be there a while, Ellie. You need to get over there and take advantage of that.”

  I hated the gym. The very idea of sweating without actually accomplishing anything was almost offensive to me. I would rather work in the garden all day long than hit the treadmill for half an hour. However, Astrid had a point. This might be my only chance. I looked at my watch. It was one fifteen. I had until two thirty before Ritter picked me up.

  “I’m not a member of the gym,” I said.

  She laughed. “Just go in and ask for a tour. They do that all the time. They’ll let you try out the equipment, hang around for a while. Start up a conversation or two with someone else who’s working out there—like a certain former Olympian. . . .”

  “I guess I could do that,” I said.

  “You might get a sales pitch, of course.”

  “Believe me—I can resist any pitch that tries to get me to go to that place over and over again. Ugh.”

  “It’s good for you,” Astrid said.

  “Gotta go,” I said. “Thanks for the heads-up.” I hung up and went back out to where Maggie was working. “I’m going to have to leave you in charge again this afternoon. I’m going over to the gym right now, but I’ll be back—before leaving again.”

  “No problem. I don’t know how you managed with help only two days a week, though.”

  I shook my head. “I’m starting to wonder that myself.”

  Of course, I hadn’t been investigating a murder then, either.

  “Well, I’m willing to work as much as you want me to. It’s a joy spending time here.”

  CHAPTER 19

  IN my loft bedroom, I shuffled through drawers searching for something that looked like workout gear. There: yoga pants and a T-shirt. It would have to do. And honestly, I’d been known to actually use the yoga pants for their intended purpose. I changed and went out to Corona Street through the garden gate.

  Boomtown Gym, or, since there was only one fitness center in Poppyville, simply “the gym,” was on Cooperhawk Way, a block off the main drag. It was a small classy place housed in a brick building that had originally been a feed store. Located on the corner, it was directly across from Dr. Ericcson’s vet office. Sure enough, I saw Astrid sitting at her desk. When she saw me through the window, she waved.

  My phone buzzed in my purse, which I’d brought along, since yoga pants don’t have decent pockets. I pulled it out and saw Astrid had texted.

  If you join, I’ll come work out with you!!

  I turned and gave her a sarcastic smile from across the street, turned toward the door of the gym, and went inside for the first time in my life.

  The air vibrated with a driving dance beat. To the left, a bank of cardiac machines marched down the wall: ellipticals, stationary bikes, treadmills, and stair climbers. About half of them were in use. Straight ahead, two rows of weight machines filled the space to the back wall and locker rooms. To the right, three other rooms opened off the main area. One had ropes and straps and other devices of torture hanging from above. The second contained tiny tables and lots of toys—day care for busy moms.

  In the third area a class was in session. A group of women—not a single man from what I could tell—bounced and stepped and swayed and stomped to the beat of the music, waving their arms in synchronicity and having a great time. With a sense of dread, I craned my neck to see if Missy Renault was one of the masochists taking part. If she was, I was out of luck.

  I hated classes like that. I hated anything that took a lot of coordination, especially if it was in front of other people. Harris had assured me throughout our marriage that I had two left feet. I couldn’t argue with him. I’d even messed up the first dance at our wedding.

  “Can I help you?”

  I turned to see an extremely buff guy with a shaved head and eyebrow ring. I recognized him as a clerk at the hardware store. Lots of moonlighting in Poppyville, I thought. He’d come into the Roux Grill with his wife on occasion.

  “I don’t think you’re a member here, are you?” He had kind eyes.

  “No. I was hoping maybe you could show me around.” I took a breath. “Maybe let me try some of the equipment?”

  “You’re Ellie, aren’t you? I remember you from the restaurant.”

  “That’s me. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”

  “Mark Kittery. And I’ll be more than happy to show you around. Here we have the TRX suspension training room. You use your own body weight to work out with these straps, and . . .”

  My attention wandered, as did my eyes, searching for Missy Renault. Finally, I saw her toward the back of the room, running on a treadmill. And on the other side of a stair stepper, Inga Fowler spun away on a stationary bike. They were chatting to each other over the empty stair stepper like old buddies.

  Which, perhaps, they were. I hoped so, because Inga might be my way into a conversation with Missy.

  Mark showed me the class schedule, invited me to check out the women’s locker room on my own, and led me to the day care room I’d already noticed. Inside, I found Inga’s two
children putting together an oversize puzzle. I waved to them, and they waved back. The teenager who was watching them looked up and waved at me, too.

  Friendly place.

  “Are you familiar with pin-loaded weight machines?” my guide asked.

  My blank look must have been answer enough, because he beckoned me over to a contraption that consisted of a series of pulleys and weights. I could tell right away it was going to kick my behind.

  “Come sit here,” Mark said.

  “Oh, I think I’ve seen enough,” I said. “Maybe I could just look around a little more on my own?”

  “It’s no trouble,” he assured me. “Grab this bar.”

  Suppressing a sigh, I did as I was told, watching Missy and Inga out of the corner of my eye.

  “Pull it down,” Mark said.

  I pulled.

  “Wow! You’re strong for such a little thing. Here.” He added more weight.

  I pulled the bar down again. Inga had slowed and was punching buttons on the console of the exercise bike.

  “Jeez. That’s amazing!” he said, moving the bolt down in the pile of weights on the machine. “Try this.”

  I stood up. “Do you mind if I go talk to my friend over there? Maybe she can tell me how she likes it here.”

  He looked disappointed, then saw I was pointing toward Missy and brightened. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll get a good review from her.”

  Thanking him, I made my way through the machines toward the two women. Then I realized my new friend had decided to come with me.

  Dang it. How am I going to get him to leave me alone?

  Someone came in and stood by the front counter. Mark saw them, and with a moue of apology said, “Sorry, Ellie. I’m on the desk right now. I’ll check in with you when I can.”

  “Okeydoke,” I said, trying to keep the relief out of my voice. “Hi, Inga!” I interrupted their conversation.

  Missy scowled, but Inga looked over at me. I saw that she had thirty minutes left on her virtual ride. She looked exhausted and too thin in her racer-back tank. I wondered what she’d eaten that day.