Natural Thorn Killer

by Kate Dyer-Seeley

  Sighing Nora flicked the coffee bean at the window. She pointed to the espresso bar. “Let me make you a drink.”

  I was about to protest that it was too late in the day for more caffeine, but Nora walked behind the stainless steel espresso machine and brought out a bottle of white wine and two tumbler glasses.

  She tucked them under her arm and nodded at one of the bistro tables. Its chairs had been stacked upside down on the tabletop, I assumed so that the floor could be scrubbed. “Can you take those down?” Nora asked.

  I moved the chair and Nora placed the wine on the center of the table. “Sit,” she commanded. I sat as she filled the tumblers with wine. Handing me a glass, she sighed. “Elin has never mentioned Eric?”

  “No.” I shook my head, and set my glass on the table. I wasn’t in the mood for wine. I wanted to know what Elin hadn’t been telling me.

  “Maybe you should talk to her about this,” Nora said, taking a long, slow drink of the buttery yellow wine.

  “You can’t leave me hanging.” My foot bounced on the floor.

  She drummed her black fingernails on the bistro table. “You’re probably right. You know having you home has been the best thing for Elin. You have no idea how good your timing was.”

  I wanted to remind her that I had nothing to do with timing my return. She could thank Chad and his wandering eye for that.

  “It would be good for her to talk to you about this. I can’t believe she’s held on for so long. She needs to let go.”

  Thoughts assaulted my brain. What had Elin held on to for so long? And why hadn’t she said anything to me?

  “Your aunt and Eric were engaged many, many years ago.”

  “I never knew that she was engaged.”

  Nora nodded. “She was. She and Eric were deeply in love. They planned to get married, and then move to London. He had been offered a job with one of England’s premier publishing houses. And Elin was up for an adventure. This was before she bought Blomma. Having lived her early years in Sweden, the idea of returning to Europe was fine with her.”

  “Then what happened? They broke up?” I asked.

  “Not exactly.” Nora took a swig of wine like she was downing a shot of whiskey. “They were set to sail off into the sunset. In fact Elin had her bags packed, her passport and work visa ready to go, and then a week later your parents were killed.”

  “Oh.” Her words felt like a punch in the stomach.

  She squeezed my hand with her black, Halloween-inspired nails. “It’s not your fault, honey. I’m sure that’s why she’s never said anything.”

  I thought about the picture I’d found on Elin’s dresser. She looked blissful and carefree in the photo. That changed because of me. My stomach swirled. I felt sick.

  “I don’t understand. Why did they have to break up though?” I asked Nora, trying to hold back salty tears.

  “Because of you. Your aunt didn’t hesitate for a moment when she was named your guardian. She already adored you, and as I’m sure you’ve heard she and your mother were more than sisters. They were best friends. It never crossed her mind to give you up.”

  “But Eric?” I already knew what Nora was going to say.

  She tapped her wineglass. “Eric wasn’t ready. It wasn’t just you. I think that you were his out, but it had to be more than that. Elin and I have talked about it over the years. He wanted her to come to London, but you had just lost both of your parents. She had lost her sister, best friend, and brother-in-law. She refused to uproot you like that, to tear you away from Portland, school, your friends. She thought that would have been the worst thing for you, and I know that she was right.”

  My throat closed as salty tears clouded my vision. Elin had given up her life—her love—for me?

  “Don’t take it to heart, Britta.” Nora placed her hand on mine. “She loves you more than anything else in the world. She doesn’t blame you.”

  “But . . .” I couldn’t formulate a sentence. My nose dripped and tears streamed down my cheeks.

  Nora jumped up and returned with a stack of napkins. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this can’t be easy to hear, but I promise you that Elin would have never done it differently. She loved every minute of raising you and watching you grow. You are her pride and joy. You have to know that. Hasn’t everyone in the village said the same thing?”

  I dabbed my eyes and blew my nose. “Yes, but to give everything up.”

  “She didn’t. She’s never seen it that way. She’s always said that losing her sister was the most bittersweet experience. It left a gaping hole in her heart, but gave her you.”

  This made me sob even more. I couldn’t stop the tears from falling or my shoulders from heaving over. I had been young when my parents died and while I had always missed not knowing them, Elin had given me a full life. But at what price? She had lost her sister and given up love for me. The weight of her sacrifice made my heart feel heavy.

  Nora looked worried. “Britta, you can’t blame yourself. Elin made a choice. She knew what she was doing, and like I said, we’ve both wondered if Eric wanted out. I don’t know. I do think they were in love. I don’t doubt that he loved her, but he made a choice too. He put his career first.”

  “And that was it?” I asked, wadding the napkin into a ball and reaching for another. “Did they ever talk again?”

  “Well, yeah.” Nora sighed, took a drink, and refilled her glass. “That’s why it’s complicated with Mark. You see, Mark and Eric are cousins.”

  “Really?” The photo flashed in my mind again. That’s why the man in the picture had seemed vaguely familiar. He and Mark were cousins. I couldn’t believe it.

  She nodded. “They grew up more like brothers here in Portland. Mark is twelve years younger, and Eric was like an older brother to him.”

  “That’s a small world.”

  “Not really. Elin had graduated from the Floral Institute when she and Eric got engaged. She was planning to open a small boutique in London. When things changed after your parents died Mark was the one who recommended Blomma’s space.” She paused and took a long sip of her wine. “He was just starting out at the Riverplace Inn and the lease for Blomma was open. He called Elin and helped her get her first loan.”

  “Wow, that was kind of him.” I swallowed back another round of tears.

  “A lot of this I’ve learned from Mark. It wasn’t all him. He was acting on Eric’s behalf, but Eric made him swear never to tell Elin. He was worried that if Elin knew that it was him, she would turn down the help. That’s another reason I think he really did—does—love her.”

  “Does?”

  “They didn’t keep in touch. It was too painful for your aunt, but Mark kept Eric up to date on how things were going at Blomma and for Elin. Neither of them married. Eric built his career in London, climbing up the publishing ranks until he was named editor in chief of the house three years ago. Last summer he came to Portland for a book convention. Mark told me that he was going to be in town, but asked me not to say anything to Elin. I couldn’t keep that promise. She’s my oldest friend.” Nora threw her head back. “I think I made a mistake by telling her, Britta. Mark was probably right. He thought it would be better to keep them apart after all of these years, but I thought it was better to let her decide.”

  My mouth felt like cotton. “And, what did she decide?”

  “She was stoic about it at first. She claimed that those memories were long in the past, but I know her better than that. She met him for a drink. He apologized. He explained why he had opted to go to London without her. He told her that he had never stopped loving her and that there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think about her.”

  “Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe everything Nora was telling me. And yet I thought back to my conversations with Elin for the past year and how I had been worried about her. I felt like she had been holding something back, and now I knew what it was.

  “He asked her to come back to London w
ith him. I think it stirred everything up for her again. It was like no time had gone by and she was back in her twenties having to make huge choices. She told me that she’ll never leave Portland. I do think that she’s happy here, but ever since seeing Eric again she’s been different. Distant. Quieter. I don’t know exactly how to explain it, but I can tell that he reopened an old wound.”

  “You’re right. I’ve felt it too. I thought it was me—you know, from being gone—that maybe it was her getting older or too many gloomy Portland days. This makes so much more sense.”

  “Seeing him again after all those years really set her back. She hasn’t been the same since. I feel terrible, I should have listened to Mark and never said anything about Eric being in town.”

  It was my turn to console her now. “You couldn’t have known, and I think it would have been much worse to keep that from her. You did the right thing.”

  She ran her fingers through her spiky hair. “I hope so.”

  “I still don’t entirely understand why you kept your relationship with Mark a secret from her. Because of Eric?”

  “Exactly. Mark and I started out having a fun fling. It’s turned a bit more serious, but I don’t know that it will last. I’m flighty and he’s stuffy. They say that opposites attract. That could be true in the bedroom, but time will tell if this turns into anything more.” She winked. “I was planning to tell Elin but after her disastrous reconnection with Eric it felt like I would be rubbing it in her face, especially since Eric and Mark are cousins.”

  “Right.” I nodded, trying to absorb everything. Where did this leave us with Frank’s murder?

  Nora stood and gathered the tumblers and bottle of wine. “I just saw the time, I’ve got to get a move on. I’m meeting Mark for dinner.”

  I followed her to the espresso bar. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

  “Shoot, honey.”

  “You don’t think there’s any way that Mark could be involved in Frank’s murder, do you?”

  She rinsed the glasses in the sink. “Mark? Never! He wouldn’t swat at a fly. Why do you ask?” She looked genuinely surprised that I would suggest such a thing.

  “No reason.” I decided I had enough information to process for tonight. Frank’s murder could wait. I needed to figure out how to get Elin to open up, and assure her that she had a solid shoulder to cry on.

  Chapter Thirty

  After I left Demitasse I needed a few minutes of fresh air to clear my head. Fortunately Elin’s class still had at least a half hour to go. I continued along the cobblestone path and past the Riverplace Inn. Once I turned onto the riverfront path I was greeted by the Willamette’s swollen muddy waters. Between the melting snowpack in the Cascade Mountains and the rash of spring storms that Portland had experienced, the river was running at record levels. It had flooded the far end of the pathway, so my only option was to walk west.

  With the churning river to my right I headed toward the city, past runners out for early evening jogs and tourists who had come to get a firsthand look at the post-storm damage. Pink and white cherry blossoms looked like snow on the pathway. I had to maneuver around some broken limbs and intermittent puddles where the river had splashed through the embankment. A couple walking five dogs tried to control a wad of tangled leashes as they passed me. The woman hollered an apology when a fluffy husky stopped to lick my pant leg. I bent down to pet him and was greeted with a wet sloppy kiss on the lips.

  “I’m so sorry!” The woman tried to pull him away from me.

  “Don’t give it a thought, he probably smells Sticks. I love dogs,” I told her and patted the husky on the top of his head before continuing on.

  “Of course you love dogs,” a deep and familiar voice sounded behind me and made me stop in midstride.

  I turned to see Pete. He was wearing a charcoal overcoat and holding a bag from Torch.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” The sound of geese fleeing from a toddler chasing them made me turn toward the river. The fading sunlight hit the swollen water giving it a rakish glow.

  He motioned to the stream of people running and strolling around us. “Last time I checked this was a public path.”

  “I didn’t mean that.” I buttoned my coat. The air held a chill.

  “What, are you worried that I’m tailing you?” He winked, which made my heart rate quicken.

  “Are you?”

  “I don’t typically make a habit of following attractive women who love dogs.”

  Had he just called me attractive? I swallowed and tried to smile naturally, but had a feeling my face was probably betraying my feelings. “I was just at Demitasse with Nora’s dog Sticks. He’s adorable. Almost like a mini version of her, and she wasn’t exaggerating about the coffee thing. The dog loves java.”

  Two women walked by us holding paper cups from Nora’s shop. Pete laughed. “Sticks and everyone else in Portland.” He studied me for a moment. “Nice coat, you look good in red.”

  My heart flopped. “Thanks.” I changed the subject and pointed to the matte black shopping bag with a white silhouette of a candle and the word TORCH spelled out in flames. “Were you in the market for candles?”

  “Something like that.” He glanced at the bag. “Mind if I walk with you for a stretch?”

  “Not at all.” If I was being honest with myself that wasn’t entirely true. Being around Pete had me feeling completely confused. We had quickly developed an easy rapport. Was it too soon? I didn’t trust myself yet, and I didn’t want to rush into anything. Yet, Pete made me feel so comfortable it was hard to resist his company.

  He fell into step with me. I willed my heartrate to steady itself. “To be honest, I’m in the market for information, and I’ve found sometimes the best way to get a business owner talking is to do some shopping.”

  “Did you mean to rhythm just now?” I teased.

  “Was that a rhythm? I didn’t notice.” His eyes stayed focused ahead, but I could tell from his tone that he was kidding.

  “Did you find what you were looking for at Torch?” I was acutely aware of the proximity of our bodies as we walked toward the Hawthorne Bridge.

  “I found a nice set of votive candles.”

  He didn’t strike me as a candle kind of guy.

  As if reading my mind he continued. “They’ll make a nice present for my favorite lady.”

  Favorite lady? Had I misinterpreted our flirtation? Did Pete have a girlfriend? My heart sunk and my cheeks flamed. It was silly. I was still married, had yet to receive Chad’s copies of our divorce papers, but hearing that Pete had a woman in his life was a disappointment. My attraction to him was probably nothing more than a welcome distraction from my impending divorce and Frank’s murder, but learning that he was taken was depressing.

  Pete was oblivious to my reaction as he continued. “I did learn a few interesting pieces of information from Jon while I was picking out candles though.”

  “Really?” Was he going to share the information with me?

  “You’ve met Lawren, right?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  He kicked a two-foot branch from the path and watched it tumble down the grassy bank. “I’d be curious to hear your impression of her.”

  “She seems pretty timid to me. Not that I can imagine working for someone with Frank’s demanding personality, but from the brief interaction I saw between them it looked like Frank ordered her around and she jumped at his every command.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Pete moved to the side to make room for a young mom pushing a baby jogger to pass us. “Anything else?”

  I thought about her weird search for her wallet. “There is her missing wallet. She burst into Blomma the morning I found Frank and claimed that she had forgotten her wallet, yet she kept looking for it on the wall of wine.”

  Pete nodded slightly. “Yes. That is odd.”

  “What did Jon say? I didn’t know that he and Lawren were even acquainted.”

  “Neither did I. That’s why
perusing Torch for candles for my mom turned out to be highly beneficial. Not only do I have a Mother’s Day present weeks early but I learned that Lawren had been begging everyone in the village—including Jon—for a job.”

  His mom was his favorite lady? I almost slipped on a pile of wet leaves. Pete caught me with his free arm. “You okay?”

  His touch made the tiny hairs on my arms stand at attention and sent warmth spreading through my body. “I’m great,” I said trying to sound neutral. The news that his mom was the recipient of his candle purchase made me feel light on my feet. “Lawren asked Jon for a job?”

  “Yep. What about you? Did she approach you or your aunt about a position at Blomma?”

  “Not that I know of.” I shook my head. “I can ask Elin, but as far as I know Lawren never mentioned anything about a job. Was this before or after Frank was killed?”

  “That’s one of the things that I’m trying to figure out. According to Jon, Lawren asked him weeks ago.”

  “Can you blame her? I wouldn’t have lasted five minutes working for Frank.”

  “Jon agreed. He made some pretty major accusations that I’m going to have to follow up on.”

  “Like what?”

  “That, I’m afraid, is confidential.” We had made it to the base of the Hawthorne Bridge. Cars and bikes zoomed above us on the truss bridge. The Hawthorne was the busiest bicycle bridge in the city. Close to ten thousand bikes passed over it daily. Farther down the path tourists were waiting to board the Portland Spirit, a riverboat that took passengers on dinner cruises along the Willamette. Across the river a submarine sat permanently tied to the dock. It was part of OMSI—Oregon Museum of Science and Industry. Visitors could board and tour the retired military vessel.

  Pete looked at his watch and then pointed up the street. “I have to leave you here. Thanks for the walk and talk, Britta.”

  I needed to get back to Blomma too. The workshop should be wrapping up soon, and I wanted to be there to take photos of the students’ succulents and help Elin clean up. As much as I had enjoyed spending a few minutes with Pete I felt more confused than ever. Had Lawren gotten fed up with Frank’s treatment of her and gone in search of a job? Could she have snapped? Pete had mentioned that he thought the crime scene was that of an act of passion not something premeditated. But did Lawren even have the physical strength to kill him?