by Roberts, Ann
She flipped open the cardboard slats and her life careened down a steep ravine from which it would take years to chart a course of escape. Too numb to confront her mother, she’d picked up the box and walked out the door, relying on fate and the “kindness of strangers,” a line she adored from her favorite play, A Streetcar Named Desire. Conveniently her mother had thought to add a paperback version to the box. She was seventeen. She was on her own.
She tapped her feet again, unwilling to start the engine and draw attention to her vehicle. She didn’t want to be noticed, and she’d almost been discovered by Ari a few hours ago as she’d tried to leave a present for Jane on her pillow. She knew Jane kept her spare key under her front flowerpot, and she was terribly tempted to jump from her car, grab the key and run into the house, but she didn’t dare. It was nearly three o’ clock in the morning, and Jane was back in her own bed, sound asleep—once again leaving a lover without saying good-bye. She’d have to save her present for another day. She lifted the flower from the nearby seat and twirled the orchid gently between her fingertips, watching the petals blur into a wheel of white.
Chapter Fourteen
Monday, October 16th
8:45 AM
Metal doors slammed shut, and women hurriedly stuffed their belongings into their tote bags and rushed out of the YMCA locker room. Ari and Jane leisurely chatted while they changed, enjoying one of the benefits of self-employment. While other women scurried to beat the clock and answer to their bosses, they only answered to themselves. They also lived with an unpredictable housing market that could prevent them from seeing a paycheck for several months and health insurance premiums that were unbelievable.
“So what happened last night?” Ari asked.
Jane shrugged and rolled her stocking up her calf. “Nothing too incredible. Once Isabel finally got there, we ate and went back to her place.”
“Did you stay there the whole night?”
Jane grinned. “Well, most of it. I left around one.”
Ari watched Jane, noting her carefree attitude, which was surprising considering her previous anxiety over Isabel’s proposition.
“Izzie’s okay. She’s just lonely.”
“How did she react when you left?”
Jane looked at her and frowned. “I didn’t tell her. I just slipped out while she was sleeping.”
Ari chose not to voice her disapproval, but she remembered the crooked patio latch and the sound she’d heard, and she suddenly felt uneasy. Jane had said that nothing was out of place, and she didn’t find another orchid, but Ari wondered if she’d interrupted the stalker when she stopped by.
“Jane, how late was Isabel?”
“Really late. Nearly an hour. She was courteous enough to call right after you cut me off, but she didn’t get to the restaurant until nearly eight.”
Ari thought about the time frame. If Isabel was the one at Jane’s condo, it would have taken her roughly twenty-five minutes to cross from Tempe where Jane lived to Central Phoenix and arrive at Vincent’s. “How did she act when she got there? Did she say why she was late?”
Jane cocked her head to one side. “You know, she was really out of breath. I thought she had been rushing. She just kept talking about this inconsiderate client who wouldn’t leave the shop.”
“Her shop’s open on Sunday?”
She shook her head, unable to answer. “I talked with Biz early this morning, and she’s checking out some other florists today.”
“Because they weren’t open on Sunday. I think Isabel lied to you, Jane.”
They grabbed their gym bags and headed for the parking lot. “I’ve got a huge day,” Jane said. “I’m meeting a new client for breakfast, Aspen for lunch and the manager of Hideaway after dinner. She and I are finalizing your birthday plans. Ciao!”
She kissed her on the cheek and sashayed off toward her Porsche, while every man and a few women ogled her as she passed. Ari realized that Jane was magnetic and totally oblivious to the effect. What she had not told Jane was that her anxiety was growing. After the incident at the condo, she was beginning to agree with Biz that the orchid-sender was a true stalker, someone who may wish to harm Jane for a past snub.
She dropped her gear into the hatch of the SUV and pulled out her PDA. A few taps on the screen revealed a low-key day with much paperwork and little interaction with clients, except for an introductory meeting late in the afternoon. While the slow market afforded her more time to work on Jane’s problem, she wished she had more clients. Fortunately, she was a saver, and she had quite a nest egg to get her through the rough economic times. She checked her cell phone, and a flashing envelope signaled a voice mail from Biz Stone. Would she be available to check out the florists with her? She couldn’t understand why Biz would need her help, but she calculated the paperwork would only take an hour before her meeting.
Biz answered on the second ring. “Stone,” she said simply.
“Hi, Biz. It’s Ari. I’m available to go with you, but I’m curious as to why you’ve asked me.”
Biz cleared her throat. “Hold on one sec,” she said. Ari heard muffled voices and the slamming of the door. “Sorry about that. I just think it would be helpful to have someone tag along who knows Jane really well and might notice if there’s a connection. Those flowers have to be coming from someplace, but if the stalker is growing them or ordering them online, then this is all a waste of time.”
“Why not ask Jane to join you?”
“Because I’d rather ask you.”
She was momentarily speechless as Biz’s blatant flirtation echoed in her ears.
A slight chuckle followed. “Look, if I ask Jane, it will turn into an all-day thing. I don’t have time to do the latté circuit, you know?”
She laughed. Biz was a professional, and Jane certainly wasn’t when it came to any activity outside of real estate. “Okay. Where shall we meet?”
“At your office? I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
She agreed and drove to work, thinking she could at least put her desk in order before she left. A call to Molly went straight to voice mail, and she gave up hope of ever having a lunch date with her until her big case was closed. She would not see her again until tomorrow night, as they tried to follow an agreed-upon schedule during the week. They had decided to be together on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with the understanding that the weekends were always spent in either Ari’s condo or Molly’s apartment. It was an arrangement that provided the distance Molly still needed, but the consistent structure conveyed a quiet commitment to monogamy that they both wanted.
By the time Biz appeared in her doorway, she was answering the last of her e-mail. “Hey,” Biz said with a smile.
Her stomach flip-flopped at the sight of Biz, dressed in a Green Day T-shirt and tight black jeans.
Biz looked around the office. “Nice digs. Are you ready?”
She nodded and followed Biz out to the Mustang. For a forty-year-old car, the inside was pristine, and the leather smelled sweet. “This is amazing. It’s a Shelby, right?”
Biz raised an eyebrow, evidently impressed. “Very good. It’s a nineteen-sixty-seven Shelby GT three-fifty.”
“Do you show it?” Ari asked, thinking that it was the most luxurious car she’d ever seen.
Biz smirked. “Nah. I don’t have time. I just fixed her up for me.”
She started the engine and they zipped out of the parking lot. The two shops were located at opposite ends of the metropolitan area, and they decided to go west to Surprise, a booming suburb in the far corner of the valley, before cutting back across the east to Mesa.
“So how long have you been a private detective?” Ari asked as they cruised down Northern Avenue.
Biz glanced at her and took a drag off her cigarette. She quickly blew the smoke through the open window and returned the cigarette outside as well. “Three years,” she said.
Ari waited for her to expand on the answer, and when she did not, Ari returned her gaze t
o the dashboard. Clearly Biz relied on few words, and years of real estate had taught her that some clients did not enjoy small talk. She had learned that at times it was wiser to honor the silence rather than fill it up with endless chatter.
Several minutes later, just as she had decided what she would make for dinner the following night when she saw Molly, Biz pointed to the side of the road. “Have you ever been there?”
She squinted toward a tiny black building that sat on the side of Grand Avenue. A neon tube light announced that it was Trixie’s Dive, and she realized it was the oldest gay bar in Phoenix. “No, I’ve just heard of it.”
“Great place,” Biz said. “I’ve spent more than a few evenings shooting pool and making friends.”
“So that makes you a regular?”
“Sort of. Your girlfriend spent quite a bit of time there, too.” Biz let the remark sit between them, not bothering to explain.
“I’m sure she did.” She knew Molly was not proud of her past, which included a string of one-night stands and lost weekends. They rarely talked about her great familiarity with the lesbian bar scene. It was a topic they avoided, just like her drinking. She wished that Molly could give up alcohol as easily as women.
“Hey, sorry. That was a cheap shot.”
“I take it you don’t like Molly.”
“No, she’s cool.”
Ari decided not to pursue the subject, and they said little else until they pulled into a small parking lot next to a Victorian house, which had been zoned for a business. It was blue with white trim. A low roof, wide eaves and ornamental brackets added to its unique character. A hanging wooden sign painted with a giant marigold and Cavanaugh Flowers swung slightly in the light fall breeze. Flowers grew everywhere around the porch, and Ari could see a greenhouse in the back.
When they entered, a bell tinkled above the door. A short, stout woman overdue for retirement stood behind the counter, bundling roses and wrapping them in cellophane. “May I help you?”
The woman’s broad smile conveyed true warmth, and Ari suddenly doubted this sweet little shop had anything to do with Jane’s orchid dilemma.
Biz nodded and set her hands on the edge of the counter. “Are you Mrs. Cavanaugh?”
“That’s me.” The woman grinned.
Biz returned the smile. “Well, I hope you can help me. I’m looking for someone who grows rare orchids. Do you?”
Mrs. Cavanaugh nodded proudly. “We do. We have an incredible greenhouse in the back. Are you looking for a specific kind?”
Biz pulled out a picture of the elephant orchid and the woman recognized it immediately. “Yup, we’ve got it. It’s very rare, but I’m proud to say we’ve been successful.”
“Have you sold any lately?”
She frowned and shook her head. “No, there’s not much call for these flowers for sale. They’re mainly show flowers, and that’s what we do with them.”
“So no one has come in asking to buy them?”
“No. We haven’t sold a single one in a long time.”
Biz looked around and glanced at Ari. “I see. What about phone calls? Has anyone made inquiries?”
Mrs. Cavanaugh thought for a moment and shook her head again. “Nope, not that I can recollect.”
Biz sighed and stuck her hands in her back pockets, as if realizing the shop was a dead end. “I don’t suppose you know anyone named Jane Frank?”
“Only Jane I know is my Aunt Jane, and she’s been dead for twenty years. Say, what’s with all the questions? Normally people just come in here to buy flowers, but I don’t think that’s your intention, is it, young lady?”
Biz smiled crookedly. “No, ma’am. I’m actually looking for a long-lost friend who grew orchids here in Phoenix.”
Mrs. Cavanaugh studied Biz, apparently assessing where the truth began and ended in the story. “Lots of people grow orchids.”
“But not this kind,” Biz said. “And that’s my only connection to this woman named Jane. I don’t have a lot else to go on.”
Mrs. Cavanaugh eyed her shrewdly. “I wish I could help you, young lady, but I don’t know a Jane, and we haven’t had any inquiries about our flowers.”
“Is this your family business?” Ari thought to ask. “I think I’ve noticed it here for a long time.”
“Twenty years,” Mrs. Cavanaugh said. “It belongs to Mitch and me. Anything else I can help you with? Maybe interest you in some daisies?”
Ari and Biz shook their heads and waved good-bye.
Mrs. Cavanaugh watched them go, a slight smile on her face. She had learned long ago how to protect her customers and her employees. She only looked simple-minded. She had no idea what those women were after, but she always knew it was best to keep her cards close to her chest.
“Who was that?” a voice said from the back.
She turned toward the voice. She so enjoyed it when her “adopted” niece came by. “Hi. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I just got here. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
She snorted. “You’re not interrupting. Hell, you would have done better to talk to them. After all, you’re the one who grows the orchids.”
The younger woman nodded in agreement. “So, what did you tell them?”
Mrs. Cavanaugh laughed. “Absolutely nothing, honey.”
By the time Biz and Ari battled the Monday afternoon traffic back into Central Phoenix, it was lunchtime. Before she could protest, Biz steered the Shelby into the parking lot of Oaxaca, gaining the approving stares of many patrons as they pulled into a parking spot. Ari had been here a few times with Molly, and a twinge of guilt gnawed at her, but she didn’t suggest they go elsewhere. They found a booth in the back and a waiter quickly took their order. When the menus disappeared, Biz turned to Ari.
“You know, my mother always told me it was rude to stare,” Ari said.
Biz’s lips cracked a smile, but her gaze didn’t waver. “I’m not staring. I’m studying you.”
“Why?”
“Because it feels natural.”
The comment surprised Ari and she looked away, shaking her head. “How old are you again?”
Biz didn’t answer her question but chose to stretch her arms across the back of the booth. The gesture suggested extraordinary familiarity, and while her arm wasn’t draped over Ari’s shoulder, her hand was close enough to imply intimacy. “What other pieces of advice does your mother give you?”
Ari’s gaze fell to the table. “None anymore. My mother died four years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Biz said softly, taking her hand. “I can relate. My mother’s not dead, but she might as well be. She threw me out years ago.”
Ari offered a sympathetic smile. “That happened to me, too. My father.”
Biz’s eyes widened. “Jack Adams tossed out his own daughter? Wow.” She took a deep breath and gave her hand a squeeze. “I guess we have a lot in common.”
“It seems so.” Ari abruptly pulled her hand away from Biz’s grasp.
“Sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
“Cops come here. Cops look out for each other. I don’t need one of them calling Molly and reporting that I was cheating.”
“But we’re just having lunch. Aren’t we?”
Ari nodded. “Yes.” She took a drink of water and guided the conversation into more mundane topics like Biz’s car and her penchant for wearing rock band T-shirts, which apparently were all purchased at concerts or on eBay.
“So how many concerts have you been to?”
Biz did a mental calculation and shrugged. “It’s hard to keep track. Probably three hundred. I really like the concert atmosphere. Do you go?”
“Not too often. I work a lot of nights, but I’ll go if it’s someone I really want to see.”
The waiter brought their taco salads and they abandoned the conversation for food. Ari felt Biz’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look up. It was both awkward and easy being with Biz, and she couldn’t understand how such c
onflicting emotions would overtake her—at lunch.
Once they finished, she said, “So what do you make of this orchid business?”
“I’m really not sure. I followed Isabel and Jane last night, but there was nothing unusual, except for Jane’s ability to bed a woman in less than two hours, if you count time for a meal. That’s really quite a talent.”
Ari laughed. “Jane does get to the point. An expensive dinner is foreplay to her, and she’s ready to go home by the time the check comes. I’m positive her stalker is someone she knows.”
Biz raised her eyebrow. “Stalker? So you’ve changed your mind about this person? Do you think Jane is in danger?”
She shrugged. “I really don’t know. If you’d asked me before last night, I would have said no, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Well, the good news is that the person’s behavior is still rather benign. There haven’t been any threatening notes or phone calls.”
Her mind reached back to Jane’s conversations with Izzie. “I think there was a hangup, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jane told me that the night before last Isabel called her six times to plan their date, but the sixth time was a hangup. What if that was a different person?”
Biz drummed her fingers on the table and stared out into the restaurant. “Jane did tell me that she’s had several hangups in the last few weeks. She didn’t think anything of it, because she gets so many phone calls in a day, that there’s usually at least one.”
Anxiety crept into her stomach and formed a knot. She was suddenly glad that Biz was working for Jane. When she looked up again, Biz was staring at her.
“A kid gave it to me,” Biz said.
“What?”
“You asked me yesterday how I got my name. It was a kid who first called me Biz. My nickname is the reason I went into investigation.”