The woman waved shiny red fingernails. "You'd have to be married to understand."
Uma straightened up and turned off the water. She wrapped a towel around her customer's hair, flashing a pair of purple talons of remarkable length. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience there."
"Me? Heavens no. Nate would never cheat on me. I have him right where I want him. Of course, most men don't fool around until they have children and the wife lets herself slide. That'll never happen to us."
"The Buzzys didn't have kids."
"No, but they had tried to for a few years. Infertility can be tough on a couple."
"I suppose," Uma said, but sounded like she didn't buy it.
"I'll tell you one thing. It's not uncommon for the wronged wife to kill the man. I hope the police are checking into her." Her tone was flat, disinterested, as if murder was commonplace.
"You don't actually think Karen killed her husband, do you?" Uma's tone skated higher with each word.
Half of me wanted to pat her on the back for sticking up for Karen, but the other half had moved Karen to my official suspect list.
"Wouldn't be the first time the wife was guilty." The woman sat up. A confident expression on her face, she fluttered long lashes at me.
Lashes I had never seen before. She said her hubby was Nate. Nate, Nathan. Dare I hope she was the wife of one Nathan Jacobs? Not only would I have hit pay dirt, but this would be the icing on the cake.
Hoping to find out, I rushed forward. "Hi, Uma. I'm here to check on your plant."
Uma spun around and gave me a practiced once-over. She favored flashy outfits clinging to her lush figure hence my naming her the Betty Boop show rose. I sported traditional styles with no clinging but a whole lot of dirt from my job. Her eyes often crinkled in distain when they finished the head to toe sweep. Today was no different.
"Paige," she said as one might to a servant. "I don't know what's wrong with the plant but it has icky splotches on it. I can't have a client catch some vile disease from one of your plants."
I could have told her it was highly unlikely for a person to catch some disease from a houseplant, unless you were growing something like poison ivy, which come to think of it, Uma might do, but I opted to keep things simple. I turned my attention to the turbaned woman. "I don't think we've met. I'm Paige Turner."
With the corner of the towel, she dabbed at a drop of water near her ear sporting a large diamond solitaire. "Olivia Jacobs."
Yes! I forced myself not to show my excitement and offered my hand for a shake. She waved her fingers in the air, a monumental feat considering the size of the gem overtaking her ring finger. "Still wet."
"Gotcha," I said in a knowing tone as if I were familiar with manicure protocol.
Her eyes scrunched, and she tapped her pointy chin with the index nail. "Your name is familiar to me, but you don't look like anyone I might associate with."
I was too enthralled watching her finger, hoping little red marks would transfer from the polish onto her chin to come up with a proper response.
"Paige has a radio show," Uma offered. "About gardening. Can't imagine you'd ever listen to that, Olivia."
"No, can't say I would." She sat up straight. "Wait, that crazy woman who found Gary called your show." She moved back as if my association with Daisy meant I might be nuts too.
"That's me all right." I couldn't resist having a little fun and took a step closer. "Did you know Gary?"
She clutched the arms of the chair. "Socially. He and my husband Nathan were friends at one time."
Maybe she'd tell me where the two of them hung out. "Nathan Jacobs, right?" I waited for her to nod then asked, "What kinds of things did they like to do together?"
Her perfectly plucked and penciled eyebrows arched. "Really, I'm not sure how this is any of your business."
Uma snorted. "Rumor has it Paige is looking into Gary's murder for his wife."
My turn to step back. I forgot how fast news traveled in this town. I was once again grateful Adam lived in McMinnville so he didn’t hear the gossip.
Olivia looked down her nose, a nose too perfect to be natural, at me. "You can't think my husband had something to do with Gary's untimely demise."
She had me there. "Not really, but if I found out where they liked to hang out, it might help."
"Even if I wanted to help, I'm not the sort of wife who clings to her husband and follows his every move."
"But he was at home with you yesterday morning until he left for work, right?"
She straightened her shoulder under the multi-patterned cape and tightened her lips. "I don't like this line of questioning."
"Sorry, but he said you'd confirm his alibi."
"Really, why would he need an alibi? My husband is not a killer." She rubbed her wrist through a long-sleeved knit top, and her eyes filled with unease. I thought she was about to say something, but then she let go of her wrist and glanced at her diamond-encrusted watch. "Let's finish up, Uma. I have a tennis date in thirty minutes."
"The plant's over there," Uma said and helped Olivia get up as if she were a fragile flower not a robust tennis player. Uma slid her hand to Olivia's elbow and directed her to an antique barber chair at the other end of the salon.
Olivia slowly lowered her body to the seat and peered at me as if taunting me to press her on the alibi. Uma gave me a piercing glare and stepped in my line of sight with a haughty shake of her head. Uma could be difficult to deal with, but she seemed different today. More snotty, acting as if I were her personal Cinderella.
Even though my alarm bells were clanging over Olivia's evasiveness, it was time to back off questioning her. I made a mental note to come back later when Olivia was gone and I could grill Uma.
I went to the waiting area, pulled a chair close and studied the Dieffenbachia. She was sick all right. Dieffenbachias were susceptible to spider mites, and the easiest way to detect them was to shake an infected leaf on white paper sending the tiny little things into a jig.
"I'll need a piece of white paper," I yelled to Uma.
She turned and crinkled her nose. "Seriously? Why?"
"Trust me." I grinned. "You don't want to know."
"Fine." She poked a finger at the cash stand. "Behind the register. Under the printer."
I retrieved the paper and performed my inspection. As I suspected, specs like pepper scattered across the sheet, but these were nothing to sneeze at.
The plant was thick with mites. How did mites migrate to the Dieffenbachia? They didn't come from my shop and this was a lone plant. Others couldn't contaminate it. I pushed my fingers into the soil and hit hard plastic. I scooped the soil aside and found a nursery grade plastic pot.
"Hey, Uma," I called out. "What happened to the plant I sold you?"
Hair dryer in hand, she whipped around. "It's right there."
Sending dirt flying like a dog digging a hole, I unearthed the container. "Odd, how this one is in a SuperMart container."
She sighed and flipped the switch on the hairdryer. "I'm sorry, Olivia. This will just take a minute." She set down the dryer then clip-clopped on three-inch mules across the room. "Okay, fine. The other one died. I couldn't tell you I killed another plant. You get so self-righteous over these stupid things so I got one at SuperMart."
Me, self-righteous over killing plants? Probably. "Dare I ask how the other one died?"
"It just did, okay? So can you drop it?" She pursed her lips and gave me a nasty stare. "Are you going to fix this one, or what?"
I wanted to tell her to take the buggy greenery back to SuperMart, but I held my tongue. "Sometimes spider mites are hard to control. I'll have to go to the shop and get some things."
"Then go."
I held up a dirt-crusted finger. "Not so fast. If I save this baby, you have to promise to let me take care of it from now on. I'll do everything, including watering. You won't have to lift a finger. In fact, I forbid you to touch it." Ooh, I was going all Adam-ant on he
r. Did I have the same rebellious look on my face when Adam demanded I cease and desist with the desire to investigate?
She let her gaze linger on me for an uncomfortably long time then clamped her hands on rounded hips. "Fine. Just do it." She spun, her hair flipping into her face, and tapped across the tiled floor to Olivia.
I sat back in wonderment over her treatment of me and her inability to care for one plant. I might have balked at Adam's command, but at least I wanted to investigate. Uma no more wanted to care for this plant than she wanted to let her hair grow out in its natural color. Seriously, she was as bad as the guys at the police station. Failing to water on a regular basis. Leaving the poor defenseless plants to wilt in thirst.
Hold up. The police station. That was it. A solution to my lack of information.
Due to neglect, I was already stopping at the station once a week to care for their plants. If I transferred spider mites to Mitch's plants, I had a ready-made excuse to visit more often. Who knows what conversations I might overhear. Or I could simply tell Mitch his plants were infected and not harm the darlings. Nah, he'd see right through me and want proof before letting me spend an extended amount of time at the station.
I shot out of the chair with such speed that Uma and Olivia both stared at me.
"I'll go get those supplies now," I said in response to their questioning looks and sidestepped to the door.
Outside, I sucked in a deep cleansing breath to control my enthusiasm. Wouldn't do to arrive at the station shooting daggers of excitement from my eyes. I concentrated on slowing my breathing as I felt rejuvenated to my toes. Finally, I had a viable plan to help Karen. A mighty good one, if you asked me.
Feeling like a private detective, I rushed toward my shop, greeting fellow Serendipityites with a hearty hello as I passed. Certain this was not how a PI would bug his subjects under surveillance, I laughed freely. I couldn't believe I was going to do this. Never in a zillion years would I want to harm a plant, but if one of them had to get a little boo-boo to learn what Mitch knew about Gary's death, so be it.
Chapter Twelve
Nor did I want to harm Daisy, so I clenched my fingers into fists and attended to my work. Fearing spider mites had bummed a ride on my clothes, I'd changed into one of the clean work uniforms I kept in the bathroom and quarantined my clothes in a plastic bag until I could wash them. I'd hurried around The Garden Gate gathering my supplies with thoughts of my plan like sugarplums dancing through my head.
Daisy tromped behind like a puppy. She whined and begged me to help clear her name. Huge bags under and radiating lines of red in her eyes from crying sent me closer to agreeing. No, I couldn't. If Adam heard that not only was I working for Karen, but I'd taken on Daisy too, it would end our relationship. I couldn't give in.
"Please stop, Daisy." Canvas bag of supplies slung over my shoulder, I paused at the checkout counter. "You heard Adam. I can't help. If you were me and Earl asked you not to get involved, you'd back off too."
Her generous lower lip protruded. "I know, but Paige, I'm so scared. I didn't kill him. Why won't they believe me?"
I patted her thin arm. "I totally know how you feel. I was in the same position not so long ago. But it worked out and so will this. I'm sure of it." I left off the fact that I'd never lied to the police like she had.
"You can't be sure." Her full lower lip, still poking out, trembled.
I sighed and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "Tell you what. If you can get Adam to agree to let me help, I'm all yours."
"After this morning, that'll never happen." She spun free of my hand and took off down the aisle.
"After this morning?" I called out as she trounced away. What was she talking about? Did this have something to do with the morning meeting with Mitch as Adam had so cryptically mentioned on the phone?
"I pity the fool," Mr. T squawked with his back to us.
Wondering if he meant me, I shook my head and watched until Daisy reached the back of the store. She had no intention of explaining, and I wouldn't chase after her. When Daisy clammed up like this, her mouth clamped down tighter than an oyster protecting a valuable pearl. I would have to find another source for this information. Like Mitch, maybe.
Still shaking my head, I exited out the front and set out for the Crazy Curl to harvest a plethora of bugs. If I couldn't get the 411 from Mitch, Adam was sure to tell me at dinner if anything significant happened in their meeting.
Through the large window, I spotted Uma standing alone behind the front counter. Her finger moved down a list perched on the glass top while she gnawed on her lower lip as if it were a sweet treat. What was with all this lip action? Was Uma hiding something, too?
I pushed open the door, setting the small bells above my head tinkling like crazy. At least I thought it was the bells overhead and not alarm bells in my brain warning me to stop before I did something stupid.
Uma looked up. "Oh, Paige. I didn't think you'd really come back."
"Really, why not?" I set my bag on a chair next to the Dieffenbachia.
She lowered her gaze to the paperwork where her finger remained fixed. "I was kinda mean to you."
Laughing, I pulled out my Felco pruners to clip dead leaves off the ailing plant. "Kinda?"
She rushed around the counter and dragged a chair next to me. She leaned so close I could see a mass of freckles not so effectively hidden with a heavy layer of makeup. "It's that Olivia Jacobs. She's so polished and sophisticated. She's always wearing designer outfits that cost a bundle. Perfect little suits. She makes me feel like a frump."
I paused, pruners poised to snip, to study her face. This dejected, insecure attitude was not like Uma at all. Olivia must have done a number on her. I smiled in an effort to cheer her up. "No one would ever call you a frump, Uma." Brazen, voluptuous, or vacuum packed in your clothes, but not a frump.
"Thanks, but no offense, Paige. You really don't know a whole lot about fashion so I can't take your word for it."
"Ouch." I feigned a knife to the chest.
She swatted her hand at me. "Oh, you. You know what I mean." She slid forward on the chair and peered at me with narrowing eyes. "I'm really am sorry for being such a jerk. Even if Olivia makes me feel bad, no need to take it out on you. I want to make it up to you."
"Speaking of Olivia, didn't you think it was kind of odd she wouldn't say if her husband was with her when Gary was killed?"
"Odd, not really? She does as she pleases. It must not have pleased her to answer you. That's how she keeps people under her thumb. Makes you beg for every little thing. That's why I was so mean. I really am sorry, you know? I'd never treat you like that on purpose." She grabbed my free hand and turned it so my fingertips were facing her. "How about I make up for this morning with a free manicure? These nails are disgusting."
Hmm, what was the saying, 'with one hand she giveth the other taketh away.' Is there one that says with one sentence she complementeth and with another one she stabbeth in the back?
I snatched my hand back and curled my fingers to hide the ratty nails. "No thanks on the manicure. I'd just ruin it before the day was over. You could tell me what you've heard about Gary Buzzy's death, and I'd say we were even." To hide my enthusiasm, I started clipping off yellowed leaves. It would be better for the Dieffenbachia if I could subject it to a rushing stream of water before treatment. I turned to ask Uma, but kept quiet, as I knew the self-styled beauty queen would never let me use her hair-washing sink.
"That all you want? To hear what I heard? You sure?" She issued a toothy smile, revealing crimson lipstick on one of her incisors.
I stuffed a buggy leaf into a plastic bag. "Positive."
"Shoot, don't hardly seem fair, but here goes. Right before I opened this morning, I found out Gary was having an affair."
This wasn't news. Mitch already asked Karen about the affair, and Uma freely talked to Olivia about it. I needed to find out where this accusation was coming from. I kept my head down and to my task. "Who
told you?"
"Can't reveal my source. He'd lose his job."
I twisted the bag closed and stuffed it into my tote then flipped my mental rolodex of Uma's contacts through my mind. Who would lose their job from telling Uma about this? And who could have the information in the first place?
Only one place it could come from. The police department and her friend, Officer Eddie Olsen. I peered at Uma, my eagerness hopefully at bay. "Eddie's identity is safe with me."
Her mouth popped open then snapped shut. "Don't go jumping to conclusions, Paige. You don't have proof it was Eddie." Her words said I was wrong but her tone asked how did you guess?
I smiled over my victory. "Don't worry. I won't get Eddie in trouble. So what else do you know?"
"The woman's name is Jackie Morris." Uma looked around as if she expected someone to be eavesdropping. "That's all I'm saying." She mimed locking her mouth and tossing the key over her shoulder.
Fortunately, I owned the universal key for opening Uma's locked jaw. "Earlier you mentioned emails? Were there emails from Jackie Morris on Gary's computer?"
"I told you that's all I'm saying." Classic Uma. She couldn't quit until she finished the tale, but she had to be prompted as if it eased her conscience for gossiping. She was going to make me fish for the information.
Fine, I'd play. I tossed out the bait. "I suppose Eddie couldn't trust you with the real details."
"Hah. Fat lot you know."
A little more line from the reel. "Oh, really. He told you more?"
"Of course he did."
Hook set, I jerked on the line and turned away as if no longer interested. "Sure, Uma. Whatever you say."
"I'll prove it." Eureka, I caught my first fish. "He said Gary was meeting this Jackie woman every week for the last two months. They met at the Courtyard in Beaverton."
"Interesting." I sprayed the plant with a final blast of chemicals. Normally, I wouldn't use chemicals first thing, but Uma wouldn't want these bugs hanging around long. I was sure she'd pitch the plant if they did.
Read Between the Tines Page 10