“I’m sure he did.” Mom reached up and smoothed down my hair. “He knows how honest you are.”
I found her words reassuring, but I also knew she would have said them no matter what. Still, I felt my heartbeat ease up from its hammering.
“I hope you’re right. I mean, even if Bethany and I had been arguing over my order—” I broke off as a woman who’d moved over to our section whipped her head around. She caught my eye and quickly turned back to the rack of clothes she’d been looking through. “Which we weren’t,” I said loudly, “but even if we were, a tiny argument is no reason to kill a person. Detective Palmer is smart enough to realize that.”
“Absolutely.” Mom paused. “All the same . . .”
My heartbeat picked up again. “What?”
“Perhaps I should call Harry Wilson. Get his take on the situation.”
I took a step back. “Do you really think I need a lawyer?” The last time Mom had contacted the family lawyer was when Ashlee’s boyfriend had been killed. Obviously if Mom thought I needed legal counsel, she was more concerned about Detective Palmer’s questions than she was letting on.
“No, no, I’m sure you don’t,” she said. “But I’ve known him for years and value his opinion.”
I wanted to believe her but couldn’t quite yet. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re calling him?”
“Of course.” She smoothed down my hair again, a calming gesture from my childhood. “Say, why don’t you and Ashlee come over for dinner tonight? We could have a meal with just us girls before you get married.”
A home-cooked meal from Mom sounded like exactly what I needed. “I’d love to.”
“Perfect. Why don’t you text your sister? You know how I don’t like to bother her at work with phone calls.”
Somehow, Mom was under the mistaken belief that Ashlee only checked her text messages when she was on a scheduled break or at lunch. I knew for a fact that Ashlee grabbed her phone the moment it signaled a text, but I always played along so Mom could keep her faith in Ashlee’s work ethic.
“Sure.” I reached into my back pocket, but my hand came up empty. I patted the denim, even though I knew the gesture was futile. My phone wasn’t there. “Shoot.”
“What’s the matter?” Mom asked.
“I don’t have my phone. Where did I leave it?” I mentally retraced my steps. I hadn’t used it at Get the Scoop, nor could I remember taking it out of my pocket like I usually did whenever I sat down. The last place I remembered having the phone was at Don’t Dilly-Dahlia, when I’d placed it on the counter. “I think it’s at the flower shop. I’ll run over there to get it and text Ashlee. I’ll call you as soon as she gives me an answer.” I gave her a quick hug. “Thanks for all your help.”
I went down the steps and to the curb, careful this time to wait for a break in traffic before I crossed the street. On the other side, I pulled open the flower shop door and stepped inside. Violet was talking to a middle-aged man with short brown hair who had his back to me. I checked the counter next to him, where I remembered setting my phone earlier, but the space was empty.
I felt a flicker of panic. Had someone walked off with it after I’d left?
Getting in line behind the guy, I tried not to tap my foot as I waited for my turn. Instead, I studied his suit jacket. I was no expert, but the material looked expensive and fit the man’s broad shoulders quite well.
“You’re positive your mother never talked about me?” I heard the man ask Violet. His voice sounded strained. His back was ramrod straight.
“I’m sorry, but I already told you no. Mom didn’t usually talk about her customers, but rest assured that I follow the same strict code of business that my mother did. The flowers will be top quality and the prices won’t change.”
“Yes, I’m sure they will be. I thought Bethany might have mentioned me since I’m such a frequent customer.”
“And I’m sure she appreciated your business,” Violet said, handing him two bouquets of one dozen long-stemmed roses intermingled with baby’s breath and wrapped in polka-dotted cellophane. “As do I, Mr., um, Mr. Hawking, is it?”
The man’s shoulders relaxed as he accepted the bouquets. “Call me Carter.”
I blinked. Carter Hawking. This man had the same initials as the ones in Bethany’s extra notebook. Could it be the same man?
Violet thanked him, and he turned to leave. He would have bumped into me if I hadn’t sidestepped out of his path in time.
His eyes grew wide. “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”
“I just walked in,” I said.
“Well, excuse me,” he said, and headed straight for the door.
Violet noticed me and reached under the counter. “I bet you’re looking for this,” she said as she held up my phone.
I let out a puff of air. “Thank goodness. I don’t have the money to buy a replacement.”
“As soon as I noticed you’d left it, I put it under the counter for safekeeping.”
“Thank you.” I jerked my head toward the door. “Who was that?”
Violet looked toward the door, though the man was gone. “A long-time customer, from the sounds of it. He sure was acting strange, though.”
“How so?”
“He kept mentioning that the flowers were for his wife, like I might not believe him, and he must have asked me at least three times if Mom had ever talked about him. Maybe she gave him a discount or extra flowers because he was a repeat customer. But if that were the case, why not just ask?”
“Maybe he was hoping you’d be the one to suggest it.” Violet didn’t seem to know any more about the man, and I wasn’t positive he was the same one whose initials were in Bethany’s book, so I let the topic drop. I held up my phone. “Thanks again for keeping this for me.”
“No problem. Have a good day.” She headed to the back room, and I exited the store.
Up the street, I could see the man with the bouquets a couple of blocks ahead of me. On a whim, I went after him. If I could find out more about this guy, maybe I could figure out what those numbers meant in Bethany’s notebook. If he really was being blackmailed, I’d pass the information along to Detective Palmer and make him forget all about that lady who thought Bethany and I had been arguing. And if I was wrong, well, no harm done.
I strolled down the street, trying to act natural in case he glanced behind him, but he never looked back. He stopped at a silver Mercedes and reached in his pocket. I slowed down and tried to quell my disappointment. If he drove away, I would have no way to follow him. As I got ready to turn around, he opened the back door of the car and laid one of the bouquets on the seat. Rather than getting in the driver’s side as I expected, he returned to the sidewalk and continued walking. I followed.
At the corner, he hung a right, and I quickened my pace. I rounded the corner to find him half a block ahead. He turned up a walkway to what I knew was a small office complex with law and accounting firms. Maybe he worked at one of those businesses, although if that were the case, why park his car so far away?
I waited until he was out of sight and then turned up the same walkway. The complex was comprised of two parallel buildings with a breezeway running in between. Each building had two stories with four businesses on each floor. The doors faced the center aisle, with external staircases on each end. A cement walkway connected the two buildings on the second floor.
I scanned the staircases to see if he’d gone up one of them, but he was nowhere in sight. Anxiety started to work its way through my chest. Which door had he gone in?
The moment I started through the breezeway, I spotted him on the other side of the buildings, at the edge of a small parking lot. I was halfway through the breezeway when he stopped and turned around. I hopped behind a large shrub, hoping I’d disappear in the shadows as I continued to watch him.
He still held the bouquet of roses in one hand. With his other, he pressed a cell phone to his ear.
A moment lat
er, I heard a door open somewhere above me and footsteps clumping down the stairs. An Asian woman a few years younger than me, dressed in a white blouse and a black knee-length skirt, came into view as she pivoted coming off the stairs.
I bent down and pretended to tie my shoe, realizing belatedly that I was wearing slip-ons, but the woman barely glanced my way. She rushed to the back parking lot and into the waiting arms of Mr. Hawking. He pulled her closer to the office building wall, probably to avoid being seen from any upstairs windows. I had to crane my neck to keep them in view as the two engaged in a kiss so passionate that I felt like a pervert for watching them.
Judging by how these two were meeting in a back parking lot, the odd way the man had questioned Violet, and the knowledge that Bethany’s little notebook might be for keeping track of her blackmail victims, I had a sneaking suspicion that this woman was not Mr. Hawking’s wife. But then, who was she?
Chapter 13
Carter and the woman broke apart from their passionate embrace. The woman clutched the flowers to her chest and glanced down at them every few seconds, the smile on her lips evident even from this distance. After another minute of talking and the occasional kiss, she headed back toward the buildings, sniffing the flowers as she went.
No way would my shoe-tying ruse work a second time. I stood up and headed through the breezeway, as if I was finished with an appointment and on my way out. I stopped at the directory attached to the front of the building and scanned the businesses. As I’d suspected, accountants and lawyers occupied most of the offices.
I heard footsteps moving up a set of stairs inside the complex, most likely the woman returning to her office. Then I heard a man’s cough nearby. My blood froze.
Shoot. I should have realized Carter would have to come out this way. What a knucklehead I was. I dropped to my shoe once more, just as he came through the breezeway. I kept my eyes on the ground as he moved past me, shifting a little to angle my back toward him. He probably hadn’t paid enough attention to me in the flower shop to recognize me from behind.
I waited in that position until I could no longer hear his footsteps. Then I stood and headed down the sidewalk back toward Main Street and my car. Carter was only a block ahead of me, but he was walking briskly.
He rounded the corner onto Main and stopped at his Mercedes. I considered my options. I could dawdle long enough for him to drive away before I reached his car, or I could bolt past him so fast he would barely have a chance to look at me. In the end, I decided on a steady pace that exuded confidence, like I had a destination in mind. Even if he did recognize me, he’d have no reason to think I’d been following him. Unless, of course, he realized I was the one who’d pretended to tie her shoes back at the office complex.
I sped up a tad at that thought and held my breath as I approached where his car was parked. Through the windshield, I could see him fastening his seat belt. If he noticed me as I went by, he didn’t react.
When I reached my own car without incident, I let out my breath, hopped in, and backed out of the parking space. As I straightened out my wheels, I glanced up and saw Carter backing out of his space up the street from me. The impulse was too great. I followed him again, keeping my eyes glued to his back bumper, rather than the dashboard clock that would surely tell me I had doubled my lunch hour. Good thing I’d come in early today.
Carter roared through town a consistent ten miles per hour over the speed limit and rolled through every stop sign rather than actually coming to a complete stop. Apparently the man was a little reckless, which matched my idea of how an adulterer behaved. I kept up my speed so I didn’t lose him, though I made sure to stop at every sign and keep two or three cars in between us so he wouldn’t notice me.
After several more blocks, he turned another corner, went down half a block, and pulled into a long driveway marked Private. The driveway ran alongside a single-story stucco house with a flower bed full of sprightly daisies out front.
I slowed down and read the wooden sign that swung from the porch roof. It said, HAWKING, STENTON, AND TRUTNER LAW OFFICES.
I turned at the next corner and worked my way back to Main Street and then the highway, thinking about what I’d discovered.
Carter was a lawyer. His girlfriend worked at a law firm. I pictured some sort of lawyer’s conference they had both attended, where they happened to sit down on adjoining stools at a fashionable hotel bar and started a conversation that was completely innocent at first. Then one drink followed another, and a relationship had been born.
Was this something I had to worry about with Jason? With his dreamy green eyes and adorable dimples, he’d already caught the eye of more than one girl in town.
I dismissed the idea. I had complete trust in Jason’s faithfulness.
Then again, Carter’s wife probably did, too. If Bethany had somehow uncovered Carter’s infidelity, he might be willing to pay to keep the information quiet, which would explain that secret tablet. And if he’d grown tired of Bethany’s demands, he may have killed her rather than risk her exposing his secret.
I realized with a start that I was back at the farm. I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I’d barely paid attention to my driving. I parked in my corner spot and pulled out my phone. Out of curiosity, I opened a search engine in the Web browser and typed in the name of Carter’s law firm.
The first search result appeared to be for his Web site. I clicked the link and almost groaned out loud. Carter’s firm specialized in divorces. Maybe he could represent himself if his wife found out he was cheating and decided to leave him.
I got out of my car and followed the path past the vegetable garden and pool area, and entered through the French doors that opened to the dining room. With lunch long over, the room was bare and quiet. I darted across the hall to the office, threw my purse in the bottom desk drawer, and texted Ashlee about dinner. Once she accepted, I gave Mom a quick call and then dedicated my attention to the marketing project I’d been working on.
When three o’clock arrived, I stood and stretched, trying to relieve the tension in my muscles from working on the computer for so long. I went into the kitchen to see Zennia.
She and Esther sat at the large oak table, looking at a cookbook. I peered over their shoulders at a picture of a dip with crackers around it.
“That looks tasty,” I said. “What is it?”
“Southwestern hummus with baked pita chips, plus I’ll add some sliced cucumbers for dipping, too,” Zennia said.
Hummus was not something I would ever pick on my own as an appetizer, but if anyone could make it taste good, Zennia could.
“Interesting,” I offered. “Have you made this recipe before?”
“All the time,” Zennia said. “It’s my go-to recipe for parties.”
“And we all know someone who has a big party coming up.” Esther looked up at me with a wink.
“I mentioned to Esther that we’d be reviewing the menu this afternoon,” Zennia said, “and she wanted to sit in. I was showing her a few of my choices.”
I bent over and put my arms around both women’s shoulders. I gave them each a squeeze.
“Goodness, what was that all about?” Esther asked, patting my arm.
I felt tears spring up. “I can’t thank you both enough for all that you’re doing. It means the world to me.”
A familiar blush crept up Esther’s neck. “You’ve thanked me plenty already.”
“I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything. Planning a wedding is way outside my comfort zone, but because of you two, I think I might just pull it off.”
“I’m delighted to help,” Zennia said. “A friend’s daughter is interested in attending culinary school next year and can’t wait to assist me with all the prep work. She figures it’ll be a good trial run for when she eventually opens her own catering business.”
“And I love to help with weddings,” Esther said. “Nothing makes me happier than seeing two young people in love and
starting a new life together.”
“Well, please know how much you both mean to me.”
I gave Esther’s shoulder one last squeeze and then sat down at the table. Zennia went down the list of appetizers, which included the stuffed mushrooms and a vegetable platter, along with shrimp cocktails with wild-caught shrimp, seasonal fruit, crispy kale with yogurt dip, citrusy crab salad in cucumber cups, and half a dozen other dishes.
“My gosh, Zennia. How are you ever going to prepare all this food?”
“I can do a lot of the prep work ahead of time, and like I said, I have my friend’s daughter helping me.”
“But it’s so much work,” I said.
“I can always pitch in,” Esther said. “I’ll make sure I have the whole morning free to help Zennia.”
“And I can help, too, when I get the chance,” I said. “At least with the chopping and mixing. Not so much with the actual cooking.”
Zennia shook her head. “Nonsense. I don’t want you lifting a finger in this kitchen on your big day.”
I felt that familiar warmth in my chest. Planning my wedding over the last few months had really reminded me of what wonderful people I had in my life.
Before I could thank Zennia again, Gretchen came through the back door and went straight to the refrigerator. “Afternoon, ladies,” she said over her shoulder. She removed a container of yogurt from the fridge, pulled the lid off, and grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer. She took a seat next to me.
“Dana, I can’t believe I never asked you about your wedding flowers when I heard Bethany had been killed. What’s going to happen now? Can another florist fill your order in time?”
“Her daughter, Violet, is taking over. She assured me there should be no problems.”
Gretchen stirred her yogurt. “I met Violet once. She seemed really nice.”
“Yeah, she is,” I said. “Where did you guys meet?”
“At a class the library taught over the summer. Well, not a class so much as a place for us writers to meet up.” Gretchen blushed. “It’s silly really.”
Marriage Is Pure Murder Page 10