Natural Thorn Killer

by Kate Dyer-Seeley

  “I’m in.”

  He laughed. “I keep changing the conversation, don’t I? What about Little Miss Mouse can I help you with?”

  “Honestly I’m not sure. Pete—Detective Fletcher.”

  Jon clapped his hands. “Nice try.” He winked. “Yes, what about Pete?”

  I was sure a blush must be creeping up my cheeks, and Jon confirmed it. “No need to blush, dear. I’ve seen the way that the detective ogles you. I’m confident the feeling is quite mutual.”

  Part of me wanted to do a little dance. Jon noticed it too. Maybe my flirtation with Pete wasn’t all in my head. “Anyway, Pete mentioned that Lawren had asked you for a job,” I continued.

  “That’s right.”

  “He said something offhand about an accusation.”

  Jon glanced toward the front of the shop, as if to make sure that we were alone. “That’s right.” He leaned across the register. “I tease about her being mousy, but I feel sorry for the poor girl. So much so that I’ve been trying to decide if I should add a few evening or weekend hours for her.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, not only did Frank fire her, but he tried to hit on her.”

  “He did?” Frank had been obnoxious, but I found it slightly surprising that he would have made a pass on someone so young.

  “Apparently he lunged at her. She told me that she had considered going to the police but she didn’t have any proof. It would be his word against hers, and who would believe her over the all-powerful Frank?”

  “Did you believe her?”

  Jon paused for a second. “I can’t imagine why she would make something like that up.”

  He had a point there.

  “So do you know if this happened before or after he fired her?”

  “I’m not sure. She was sketchy on the details. I think it was upsetting her to talk about it, but come to think of it I remember her saying something about quitting. I wonder if she meant that or if she just got her words jumbled up.”

  Had she let something slip? If Frank had tried to hit on her that could be a motive for murder, but it seemed like a big leap especially given Lawren’s small stature and low confidence. I couldn’t picture her stabbing Frank, and yet it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility either.

  “The poor thing claimed that Frank was trying to ruin her reputation. Apparently he had started a smear campaign. He told her that he was going to go door to door and let every business owner in the village know that he had fired her. He swore she would never work in the village or Portland again.”

  Suddenly Lawren was looking more and more like a potential killer. Hitting on her and trying to make sure he put her permanently out of work. Both of those sounded like viable motives to me.

  “Does that brain of yours ever turn off?” Jon asked, peering at me from beneath his wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Not really. I wish it did.”

  “Don’t say that.” He patted my hand. “A woman of beauty and intellect is a wonderful gift.”

  “Thanks.” A bell jingled on Torch’s front door. “I should get going, and it looks like you have a customer,” I said to Jon. “You told all of this to Pete, right?”

  “Right.” He escorted me to the door and greeted the customer with a welcome hug.

  I crossed the street back to Blomma. Had I finally learned once and for all who had killed Frank Jaffe? Lawren had a solid motive, she easily could have ducked back into the shop, and if she had caught Frank off guard she most likely could have stabbed him with one sharp jab. Plus she had been acting so skittish searching for a lost wallet on a wall of wine. I didn’t know what she was really looking for, but it had to be a clue. She must have left something behind when she killed Frank. I had to find it and get it to Pete ASAP.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  In between tying bouquets and taking customer orders I searched every square inch of the wine wall without success. If Lawren had stashed something among the bottles of wine she had hidden it well. I removed bottle after bottle on the off chance that she had tucked a note or something else incriminating under one of the bottles.

  “What are you doing?” A woman’s voice sounded behind me as I stacked a bottle of Beaujolais on the wine bar. I turned to see Serene entering through the garage doors. She sounded almost angry as she approached me rolling her wine cart. I wondered if she was upset that I was messing with her display.

  “Just a little cleaning. Tonight’s the big launch party so I want to make sure that everything is sparkling.” That was a small lie. I did want Blomma to shine tonight, but Serene’s wine practically gleamed.

  “Dust?” Serene’s immovable brows almost arched. “Are any of my bottles of wine dusty? I can’t believe that. I’m meticulous about cleaning every time I restock. If you’re not satisfied with my work, please let me know. Elin has given me free rein with Blomma’s wine, but if you have feedback or suggestions on my display, I’m all ears.”

  She was irritated. “No, no. Like I said it was slow and I needed a project. Honestly I haven’t even needed to use this.” I held up a clean dust rag.

  “Have you put everything back in the same place?” Serene’s tone was short and crisp. “I have everything arranged in a specific order based on variety, blend, and vineyard.” She untied her trench coat and began checking each bottle.

  I felt bad. Serene was obviously not pleased that I had tampered with her product. “Yes. I’ve taken one bottle out at a time and put it back in the exact same spot.”

  She paced in front of the wall as if making sure that I wasn’t lying. “Good. Hours of work went into putting this together.”

  “I’m sorry—I was really trying to help.”

  “Sure.” She smiled through her clenched jaw.

  “I’ll let you take it from here,” I said nodding at the bottle of Beaujolais.

  “Thanks.” She picked up the bottle and cradled it like a baby before returning it to its spot on the wall.

  I could tell that I had offended her. She took her wine seriously. While I sketched out some rough ideas for a new spring window display I watched Serene check off her inventory sheet and twist bottles so that their labels were perfectly centered. I wondered if she was slightly obsessive-compulsive. That would make even more sense as to why she was irritated with me fiddling with her display.

  When she finished she clicked across the cement floor and handed me an invoice. “I’m done. Tell Elin that I’ll be back for the party by six thirty at the latest.”

  “Is there anything I can help do to prep?” I asked, filing the invoice.

  “No, I have everything under control.” She gave me a firm look and yanked her cart out the garage doors.

  Wow, she was really upset with me. I was going to have to make amends. The last thing I wanted was to have our wine steward stalking around every time she saw me. I returned to my sketches and mapped out a spring in bloom design to show Elin. In my vision I thought we could create a window display from the ground up so to speak, with a layer of organic dirt and bark, sprouting up to seedlings, and then stretching into gorgeous, lush blooms to the top of the window. I hoped that Elin would like the concept, as I was eager for a fresh project and excited to try something new.

  With that complete it was time to focus on decorating for our botanical couture bash. The students who had participated in the preview workshop would be showing off their one-of-a-kind wearable floral art.

  Wearable floral art was a new trend that many people in the industry credited Elin with starting. Whether used as an accent on a runway show or as party favors for guests, floral jewelry was all the rage these days. However, crafting a structure that allowed movement and stability was a challenge. Part of tonight’s launch would include Elin teaching a mini-workshop on the mechanics of building signature couture flowers as well as sourcing the right materials for each student’s piece. She was a genius when it came to layering botanical fabrics so that they could move and flow without falling apart.
Her avant-garde headpieces had been worn on catwalks and featured in fashion magazines around the world.

  Flowers had a long-standing history with fashion. In the 1600s French women wore tulips like precious gems. Delicate lacy flowers were woven into fabrics of both men and women’s attire in the middle ages. Flowers brought a certain light and romance to clothing and were often more expensive than actual jewels. Elin was reviving the trend and the fashion industry had embraced her vision.

  Media and press had been invited to the soirée. Thus far every reporter had RSVP’d with a yes. It was going to be a packed house. I wondered if we would have had the same turnout if Frank hadn’t been killed. How many members of the media saw tonight’s event as an opportunity to rehash his brutal murder? I hoped that it wouldn’t take away from the stunning party we had planned.

  Elin was still working on putting the finishing touches on her masterpiece—the full-length floral gown that was sure to be the star of the show. I took on the task of decorating the front of the shop. First I rearranged the furniture and placed the fragrant sherbet bouquets throughout the room. Then I strung fresh snaking hop vines and rosebuds into the garlands Elin and I had made earlier in the week. Stringing these from the ceiling, I tied them so they crisscrossed the space and hung low enough for our guests to appreciate their beauty, but not so low that anyone would bump their head.

  Next I positioned black iron candelabras that we had borrowed from Jon and pale pink and peach taper candles on the bar, the workstation, and coffee table. I wrapped twinkle lights between the bottles of wine and weaved them through the buckets of fresh-cut flowers. Blomma had never looked lovelier. There wasn’t much more I could do for the moment. The caterer would arrive later, as would our models and string quartet. Right before the guests arrived we would roll out our floral carpet.

  Elin came in from the cottage just before four. She held a canvas bag in one hand and rubbed her eyes with the other. “I’m calling it quits. I can’t see straight. Cross your fingers and toes that the gown holds up.”

  “I’m sure it will. Don’t worry.” I unplugged the lights and flipped the sign on the door to closed.

  “Everything looks wonderful, Britta. You’ve outdone yourself.”

  I waved her off. “It’s nothing. I can’t wait to see the cottage and gown.”

  Elin held up her index finger. Her eyes looked weary, but I could tell she was excited too. “Not until tonight. I want it to be a surprise.”

  “Are you ready to take off?” We had opted to close early to give ourselves time to run home and change.

  Elin nodded. “I’ll meet you outside.”

  “Okay.” I went ahead of her. To my surprise Tomo was crossing the street. “Hey, what are you doing here?” I called.

  He nodded to Torch. “I’m on follow-up duty for Detective Fletcher. I hear there’s a big bash at Blomma tonight. Everyone in the village is buzzing about it.”

  I bit my thumbnail. “I know, I hope everything goes smoothly.”

  “I’m sure it will.” He gave me a reassuring nod.

  “Are you going to come by?”

  “Am I on the invite list? From what I’ve heard, it’s the most exclusive ticket in town tonight.”

  “Yeah, right.” I winked. “You should come. I meant to invite Pete too.”

  “We’ll be there, don’t worry.” He continued on to Torch.

  Elin and I packed the Jeep with supplies. The caterer, Nora, and Serene would all be back a little before six to set up. That gave us two hours to shower and change. Typically Elin teaches workshops in her jeans and cable-knit sweaters, but tonight was a special occasion. It was the official launch of the cottage. We had hired local high school students as models who would display our haute couture flowers while circulating through the cottage and flower shop with trays of flower-themed appetizers and drinks.

  I dug through my closet to see what I had to wear. Like Elin’s, most of my wardrobe was geared toward function and comfort. However I did have a few dresses that had rarely been worn. In fact each of them looked brand new as I laid them on the bed and tried to decide which one would be the most flattering.

  After trying each of them on, I opted for a red knee-length cocktail dress with simple black beading around the waist and a flare skirt. I paired it with open-toed black heels and a black cashmere scarf. I pinned my hair behind my ears with antique silver clips and highlighted my cheekbones with blush. Then I applied a shimmery silver eyeshadow and red lipstick. Stepping back to observe myself in the long mirror, I was pleased with my reflection. The dress accentuated my waist, and its flirty skirt made me feel like I was ready for a party. However I couldn’t help but hear Kirk’s teasing in my ear. I could already picture him calling me Snow. Gross.

  I met Elin in the kitchen for a quick snack of crackers, cheese, and fruit. Who knew if we would have a chance to eat anything later? I almost didn’t recognize her when she came down the stairs wearing an ankle-length green organza skirt, ballet flats, and a flowing ivory tank and matching sweater.

  “You look amazing,” I said.

  She studied me. “And you are a vision. The red is so striking with your skin.”

  “You’re biased.”

  “Maybe.” She kissed the top of my head. “But I have to say we look ready for a ball, don’t we?”

  “Is this a ball? I thought it was a flower show.” I crunched a cracker.

  “It’s the closest I’ll ever get to a ball.”

  I laughed and spread goat cheese and chives on another cracker. “Me too. Are you ready for tonight? This is a long time coming. I’m so proud of you, and so glad I’m here to be a part of it.”

  Elin helped herself to a slice of pear and hunk of Brie. “Britta, I would be lost without you. I’m the lucky one to have you here.”

  “Well if nothing else at least we both love what we’ve accomplished, right?” I joked.

  “That reminds me, I have something special for you.” She stood up and went into the living room. Then she returned with a Blomma box. “Here, open it.”

  “You didn’t need to get me anything,” I said.

  “I know, but I wanted to make something for you, and it appears that I planned it as if I knew what you were going to wear.”

  I opened the box to find the most dainty flower headband I had ever seen. Elin had weaved variegated holly leaves with rosebuds and just a touch of Queen Anne’s lace to give the headband texture and a pop of white. “This is beautiful. It’s too pretty to wear,” I replied as I gently removed the headband from the box.

  “No, it’s meant to be worn. That’s the whole purpose of tonight’s show.” She held out her arm to display a bracelet and matching ring that she had made out of pastel succulents. They reminded me of something a garden fairy would wear. “We have to showcase our art tonight.”

  “I’ve never worn something as magnificent as this,” I said placing the rose headband on my head.

  She clasped her hands together. “Oh, Britta. It’s wonderful. Exactly as I imagined. You look like a princess. Go see in the mirror.” She pointed to the half bathroom in the hallway off the kitchen.

  I followed her advice and went to see her creation. She was right. I looked as if I was wearing a bed of delicate roses on my head. The brilliant red roses and Queen Anne’s Lace contrasted against my dark hair. I wondered how Elin had managed to design something that fit my head perfectly. Had she snuck in and measured my skull at night? The headband was snug without feeling too tight or restricting. I didn’t need the clips to hold my hair back, so I removed them and left them in the bathroom

  Elin’s eyes looked dewy when I returned with the headpiece in position. “You really are a vision, Britta. You’re going to be the star of the show.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I protested. “But speaking of the show, we should probably get back shouldn’t we?”

  Glancing at the clock above the stove, Elin polished off a piece of cheese. “Yes, we should.”r />
  We walked arm in arm to the Jeep, feeling like queens and ready to welcome the world into Blomma’s cottage. I just hoped that everything would flow seamlessly tonight. Frank’s murder was old news and now it was time to start fresh.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  When the party started Blomma had been transformed into something out of the pages of a fairy tale. It was impossible not to feel like a character from one of the Brothers Grimm stories as I practically floated from guest to guest. Every light and candle in the shop and cottage had been illuminated, casting a warm glow throughout the space. A plush red carpet greeted everyone as they entered the shop through the garage doors. It ran through the front and extended into the cottage, as if marking a path. We had scattered white rose petals on the carpet, giving it a dramatic flair, and wrapped posts with more of the garland to create a visually stunning entrance.

  Serene stood guard at the wine bar, pouring glasses of wine in gold-rimmed goblets. Nora had set up a coffee tasting station in the front seating area where she treated guests to tastes of a special cherry blossom blend she had created just for the launch party. A string quartet wearing top hats and boutonnieres made of roses played on the sidewalk out front.

  Models wearing ornate dresses and headpieces constructed entirely out of flowers and greenery worked the room with trays of appetizers—all shaped like flowers. There were daisy puffed pastries with cream cheese and a raspberry center, watermelon and white cheddar cheese tulips, sunflower truffles, salami roses, and miniature terra cotta pots filled with dip and spouting with vegetables.

  I couldn’t keep a happy grin from spreading across my face as I circulated around the room and chatted with clients and the press. Elin showcased her techniques in the cottage, creating individual rings for everyone who came in.

  “This is quite a success,” Nora whispered as I walked past the coffee station. “You and your aunt sure know how to throw a party. The only thing I would change is that I would lose the stuffy quartet for an electric guitar.” She winked. Elin had made her a custom piece of floral fashion, too. Nora wore a floral choker with spiky tendrils and Black Magic hollyhocks. It matched her jet-black leather dress and studded black boots.