A Deadly Bouquet
Page 23
“From an acorn a mighty oak tree can grow,” he said. “That’s the way I feel about investigations. A tiny clue can bring a criminal to justice. The smallest slipup and BAM!” He slapped the paper with the palm of his hand, making his audience jump.
My father smiled. “When a culprit is apprehended he has that reaction—total surprise that his scheme has been exposed. My daughter, Bretta Solomon, has experience rousting worms out of the woodwork, but she’s often busy with her flower-shop business. I, on the other hand, am footloose and fancy-free. I have cards with me. Take one and if I can be of service, please give me a call.”
My accomplishments as an amateur detective had been played up in our local newspaper, which I’d learned my father had subscribed to during the years he was away. Dad had come back to River City with the idea of us partnering a detective agency. I’d quickly put the kibosh to that idea—or so I’d thought.
Amazed, I watched interested people pick up the cards and tuck them into pockets or wallets. While the others moved on, one woman lingered. I gave her a hard study. It took ten seconds before I recognized Allison Thorpe. She owned a flower shop and was my biggest competitor. But this was a new-and-improved Allison. Her tanned legs were displayed in a pair of white shorts. Her blue T-shirt was neatly tucked under the waistband. Her eyebrows, which were usually as bushy as a squirrel’s tail, had been plucked and shaped into gentle arches.
My father offered Allison his arm and the two of them strolled off, gazing into each other’s eyes. Not once had he looked in my direction. “There must be something in the air,” I muttered. I stepped to the end of the buffet line and filled my plate. Searching for a place to sit, I saw the size of the crowd had dwindled from when Dad and I’d first arrived. I made myself comfortable at a table with some out-of-town visitors.
Natalie was everywhere, making everyone feel welcome. On one of her trips past me, she stopped and gave me a brief hug. “Emily said she told you about Dan’s mother.”
“Are you flying to Oregon?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to call the airlines about a flight.” She gave me a tired smile. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll talk to you tomorrow and tell you my plans.” She hurried off.
The shadows lengthened. Plates were discarded and a sudden quiet fell over the gathering. It had been a nice afternoon, a pleasant change of pace from my structured life. I get so wrapped up in my flower-shop business that I sometimes forget how to relax. I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the sky, waiting for the first burst of pyrotechnics.
It wasn’t long until the air was bombarded with sparkling stars, flashes of bright light and loud explosions. Comets streaked across the night sky and detonated into shapes that resembled large allium blossoms. The crowd was appreciative with frequent and enthusiastic applause. When the display came to a loud, riotous conclusion, yard lights were switched on and people headed for their vehicles.
I was ready to leave, too, but I hadn’t seen my father. To make myself useful, I folded some chairs and carried them to a storage shed. I was on my way back for another load when Allison Thorpe burst out of the garden entrance. My father tottered after her. Allison rushed for the lodge, but my father came to a standstill, frantically searching the yard. I waved. When he caught sight of me, he limped forward.
I braced myself. His face was pale, his gait unsteady. I figured we were in for a trip to the Emergency Room because he’d eaten something that hadn’t agreed with him.
Before I could speak, he grabbed my arm and gasped. “There’s a body in the garden, blood everywhere. There’s a killer on the loose.”
ALSO BY JANIS HARRISON
Lilies That Fester
Murder Sets Seed
Roots of Murder
AVAILABLE FROM ST. MARTIN’S/MINOTAUR PAPERBACKS
PRAISE FOR JANIS HARRISON’S GARDENING MYSTERIES
Lilies That Fester
“Everything is a mystery in this interesting whodunit.”
—Associated Press
“The fourth Solomon mystery and it is the best by far … The climax is shocking … in her cerebral puzzler that is nothing short of genius.”
—Harriet Klausner
“Harrison displays a talent for capturing the workings of a small community, from the funeral industry to the police department.”
—January Magazine
Murder Sets Seed
“Harrison pulls everything together for a satisfying finale, besides sowing seeds for another sequel.”
—Publishers Weekly
“This entertaining tempest in a small-town teapot should be a hit.”
—Library Journal
Roots of Murder
“Janis Harrison’s Roots of Murder has a wonderful sense of place, culture, and horticulture, and is a very good mystery besides.”
—Jill Churchill, author of The Merchant of Menace
“A nicely composed debut … with a fine lead character … Harrison’s friendly voice doesn’t falter … [and] she handles Bretta’s matter-of-fact, pervasive sorrow with a generally sure hand.”
—Booklist
“This is a first mystery with a number of things going for it … A feisty single female [and] the floral background is interesting, and so is the Midwestern setting.”
—Contra Costa Times
A DEADLY BOUQUET
Copyright © 2002 by Janis Harrison.
Excerpt from Reap a Wicked Harvest copyright © 2003 by Janis Harrison.
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ISBN: 0-312-98700-5
St. Martin’s Press hardcover edition / December 2002
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / February 2004
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN 9781466885189
First eBook edition: October 2014