Roses and Daisies and Death Oh My!

by Petersen, Penny Clover

  “We’ll think of something. Let’s go to Mary’s first. Book Renew looks busy right now. We’ll have to hurry. It’s almost noon.”

  Mary was in the back of her shop packing a vase for the UPS pick up at noon. “Hi, ladies. Not working today?”

  “We still open at noon on Wednesdays. Daisy and I refuse to be total slaves to our store,” replied Rose.

  “It must be nice having that luxury. How is Marc? Have you heard anything?”

  “We saw him on Monday and Mother is there again today. Nothing new. He’s still in a coma and the doctors aren’t much help. They really can’t predict when he will come out of it.”

  Mary said, “I wonder if he’ll be able to remember what happened to him when he wakes up.”

  “So do I. And I’m just hoping he wakes soon,” said Daisy.

  “However, we came by on happier business,” Rose said as she handed Mary the invitation. “We’re having a cocktail party for the neighborhood Friday night. I know it’s last minute, but I hope you can make it. After closing, around eight.”

  “Great! Something to look forward to. I really love Christmas, but the days can get so hectic that I don’t take time to enjoy myself. Can I bring anything?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think so. Mother is cooking.”

  “I hope I have half her energy when I’m her age!” said Mary.

  “Me, too. Rose and I can barely keep up with her now. By the by, she told me that she ran into Mr. Tucker last night when she was walking Malcolm. I think you know him. He lives in the little bungalow in back of us.”

  “Oh, yes, I know Ron. Nice guy.”

  “Well, he told Mother that he thought he heard prowlers over here on this side of the street. Was everything okay this morning when you got here?”

  Mary continued her packing making quite a production of wrapping and rewrapping the vase in bubble wrap. She didn’t look up as she said, “Yes, just like I left it. There was nothing out of place.” She smiled. “Ron’s getting up there. He probably just heard raccoons or maybe deer. They wander in sometimes.”

  Daisy had an idea. “But Mother happened to look out the window after she walked Malcolm and thought she saw a light in Hazel’s attic.”

  The vase slipped out of Mary’s hand and landed in the box of peanuts. “Oh crackers,” she muttered as she picked up the vase and placed in the sipping box. “Really? That’s odd. Why would Hazel be there that late? I think your mother must have seen headlights reflecting in the window or something, don’t you?”

  She finished taping the box and said, “Well, it’s nice you dropped by, but I’ve got a ton of stuff to get done. I’m excited about the party. Let me know if I can do anything to help.” Clearly having been dismissed, Daisy and Rose said goodbye and left.

  “I knew you’d think of some way to bring up last night’s little commotion. Good going!”

  “Thanks. Mary knows something. Don’t you think so? She wouldn’t even look at us,” said Daisy excitedly.

  “Maybe, but maybe she’s just really busy. And tired.”

  “Too busy to take an interest in prowlers near her shop? Oh, come on. With all the trouble there’s been, you’d think she’d be concerned about it.”

  “True,” said Rose. “Before we go to Hazel’s, I want to walk up the alley to where you and Malcolm got beaned.”

  “Okay. Why?”

  “I have this feeling that’s just itching something in the back of my mind and I can’t scratch it. It started when we came back from Hazel’s through here last night.”

  They stopped at the end of the alley and looked around. “Okay, we found you and Malcolm right here. Something feels out of sync.”

  “Everything looks the same to me,” said Daisy. “But, I didn’t notice much except Malcolm lying there. And then, of course, I only saw stars.”

  “I just keep feeling like I saw or heard something that wasn’t right. Rats, I cannot put my finger on it.”

  “Don’t try. You know how it works. The more you think, the less likely it will come to you. Let’s go to Hazel’s and then we have to make tracks. It’s ten of twelve,” urged Daisy.

  “Hello. Anybody home? Hazel?” called Daisy as they entered The Book Renew and found it empty.

  “Just a minute.” They heard water running. A moment later Hazel walked in from the back of the shop. “Sorry. I had to wash my hands. The books are so musty and sometimes I have to shake hands with customers.”

  She looked around the shop and down at herself smoothing her clothes. “Please excuse the mess. It’s been busy this morning.”

  The mess was three books sitting on the counter. And as usual Hazel was immaculate in cream wool slacks, deep blue cashmere sweater and pearls.

  “I’m glad you stopped by. I was going to come see you to ask about Marc. Any sign of him waking up? I wonder if he’ll be able to remember anything if he does.”

  “When he does! No. The doctors still can’t say anything with certainty. But he’s healing well from the stab wound. So I guess we wait. Mother’s keeping him company today,” said Daisy. “By the way, were you here late last night?”

  “Last night. No. Why?”

  “Mr. Tucker called the police to report prowlers. He thought he heard someone behind your shop. Or maybe in Mary’s yard. We know because my rat bastard ex-husband came by last night to check it out. In his capacity as policeman, of course, not rat bastard.

  “And then Mother thought she saw a light in your attic. It could have been headlights reflecting off the glass or something, I guess. Nothing weird this morning was there? Roscoe still in good health?” She looked around the shop and asked, “Where is he, anyway?”

  “He’s hiding. He’s taken to doing that a lot. Everything looked fine when I came in. I haven’t been upstairs though. Do you think I should check?”

  “It couldn’t hurt. Want us to come with you?”

  “No. I’ll just be a minute.”

  Daisy and Rose found Roscoe while Hazel was in the attic. He was hiding in the little stockroom under the desk. “Come on, boy. Malcolm’s not here. You can come out,” soothed Rose as she coaxed him out. She was holding him when Hazel came back down. He jumped from her arms and ran back into the stockroom.

  “Everything looks all right up there. I’m sure your mother was mistaken.”

  “Well, that’s all right, then. We can’t be too careful these days, can we?” said Rose. “Boy, poor little Roscoe seems spooked. He must really have been upset by the break-in.”

  “Yes, he was. Ever since, he hides most of the time. But cats are okay that way, aren’t they? They don’t mind being left alone. Not like dogs. Dogs always seem to be underfoot. Well, I’d better get back to work. Would you let me know if there’s a change in Marc’s condition?”

  “Of course, we will. Gosh, I almost forgot why we came.” Rose handed Hazel the invitation. “We’re having a little cocktail party Friday evening for the neighborhood. To kind of lighten the atmosphere.”

  “What a good idea. I’d love to come. What can I do to help? I’m closed this Friday, so I’m available for whatever.”

  Daisy laughed and said, “Thanks, but Rose and I can handle it. Luckily, Mother is doing most of the cooking.”

  Rose said, “So enjoy your day off. Are you going Christmas shopping?”

  “Sort of. There are just a couple of things I need to get done before next week.”

  Rose looked at her watch. “Sorry Hazel, we’re late. See you Friday.”

  Daisy and Rose walked into the bright noon sun and hurried across the street. “Come on, we’ll just be able to get the place open on time,” said Rose. “I must say that you’re getting very good at this sleuthing stuff. Asking about prowlers and not even a blush of shame. What a hoot! But, I believed her. I don’t think Hazel was in her attic last night.”

  “I don’t, either. I’m afraid that you and I weren’t the only idiots freezing various extremities off last night.”

  Rose sa
id, “Who’d have guessed Old Towne was such a hub of nocturnal activity. What next, Miss Marple? A stake out?”

  “Next? We get busy and earn our keep, then plan a party. And keep an eye on Hazel’s shop. And Mary Newhart. Something is going on with her!”

  Rose added, “Thinking about it, we might want to keep an eye on Ron Tucker, too. He seems like a nice, old man, but he’s always out at night. He could be a rabid nutcase in the disguise of mild-mannered, dog-walking old man. You never know.”

  “Nope, you never do, do you?”

  Rose spent all the spare moments she had Thursday morning on the computer in the shop’s office. “I know we have a thousand and one things to worry about, but I’m fascinated with this Audrey Milstead person. I mean, who would have the nerve to stalk a man like Marcus Worthington?”

  “A crazy nut woman. But enjoy, I’ll call you if we get really busy.”

  By lunchtime Rose had found three articles about Audrey Milstead in the Baltimore Sun archives. “Daisy, come see what I’ve found. She was a truly sad creature.

  “Listen. In October 1998 she’s in the gossip column. ’Mr. Marcus Worthington has been granted a restraining order against Audrey Milstead, a volunteer at the Maryland Historical Society. Apparently Ms. Milstead finds the philanthropist playboy irresistible and has been dogging him since they met in September at a fund raiser.’”

  “That is sad. I have never understood the whole stalking thing.”

  “It gets worse. This one is a regular news story from December ’98. ‘Audrey Milstead, a volunteer historian, was arrested today on the estate of philanthropist Marcus Worthington. Ms. Milstead is alleged to have attacked Mr. Worthington with a knife as he was entering his historic residence on Brightside Road in Baltimore. She was subdued by grounds staff and Mr. Worthington escaped injury. Mr. Worthington had no comment at the time. But in a statement through his lawyer said that he regrets that Ms. Milstead chose to ignore the restraining order in this violent manner and he hopes that she will now get the help she quite clearly needs.’

  “There’s one last article a week later. Just a line saying that in a plea bargain with the state’s attorney’s office, Audrey Milstead pleaded guilty to stalking and was committed to the Sheppard Pratt Psychiatric Institute.

  “I couldn’t find any more stories. I wonder what happened to her.”

  Daisy said, “I would guess she got the help she needed. Sheppard Pratt is supposed to be very good.”

  “You know, I think I’ll ask Tom Willis if he can find out what happened to her.”

  “I’d say let it drop, but who am I to talk! I’ll be as nosy as you like after Friday night. Now, if you and I can sit down for a minute and make out a list for the party, I thought I would go over to the hospital for a bit and then pick up the liquor and whatever else we need.”

  “Oh, okay. Let’s see. Wassail punch, Bloody Marys, lots of wine, something non-alcoholic, say apple cider, and, something special, maybe Pomegranate Poinsettias. All very seasonal. Yes?

  “Then hit Trader Joe’s for various cheeses and we’ll put pears, apples, and walnuts on the cheese plates. Mother is doing hot hors d’euvres and dessert. We probably need some walnut and cranberry breads which you and I can do tonight. They don’t take much time. And we’ll order some cookies from Walt.

  “We’ve got all of the glasses from Mother’s fiftieth birthday stored in the attic. I’ll get them out and washed while you’re running errands.

  “Add paper plates and napkins to the list. Not environmentally sound, I know, but we’ll recycle. Anything else?”

  Daisy had been busily writing these things down and listing ingredients. “I don’t think so. Wow, you’re good! Flowers? We have poinsettias in the shop, but I’ll get cut flowers for the buffet table. That should do it.

  “I’m off to the hospital and probably won’t be back until closing. Call me if you think of anything else.” She grabbed her coat and purse and started out the door.

  “I will. And say hi to Marc for me.”

  The afternoon moved along quickly. Customers were steady, but not overwhelming and with Tonya’s’ help Rose managed to find time to set up the buffet in the sunroom.

  She and Tonya had just finished closing up when Tom Willis came by to take Tonya home.

  “Just the man I wanted to see,” said Rose. “How is the investigation coming?”

  “I really don’t know much. The state guys don’t like to share. As I hear it Marc Proctor was their prime suspect. And his being attacked kind of screwed that up. I don’t think they’ve come up with much else.”

  “I was afraid of that. I have a question for you. I recently heard about a woman named Audrey Milstead who was committed to Sheppard Pratt about ten years ago after stalking and attacking Marcus Worthington. I can’t find any more information about her through regular search engines. Is there any way you could look her up?”

  “Where exactly did you hear this name?”

  Rose laughed, “Where? You sound just like a policeman! It was on a note that I found in a book I bought from Hazel. It was part of Worthington’s personal library that Hazel bought at his estate auction.

  “There were a couple of little notes and things in the books. Used as bookmarks, I guess. You know how people do. Anyway, I guess I’m just terminally inquisitive, and now I’m kind of fascinated with this woman.”

  Tom was looking slightly puzzled by the long explanation. “Well, I guess I can run her name tomorrow when I get in. I can’t do anything very extensive, but I can probably find out if she’s still institutionalized. I’ll call you when I have something.”

  “You’re a gem! Thanks.”

  He was just leaving when Daisy walked in looking tired and lugging a case of wine. Tom quickly took it from her and carried it into the sunroom.

  “Come on, Rose. There’s more in the car,” said Daisy. They started for the door, but Tom said, “I’ll get them.”

  On his second trip he asked, “Does everything go down here?”

  Rose said, “No, just the booze. But leave it. We’ll get the rest. Thanks, Tom. See you later.”

  “My God, Daisy, did you get enough liquor?” asked Rose as she eyed three cases sitting on the floor.

  “Liquor never goes bad and I didn’t want to run out. I might need it all myself.”

  Rose looked at her and asked, “Has something happened? Is Marc worse?”

  Daisy sighed and sat down. “No, not worse. At least I don’t think so. But certainly not better. He’s still deep in a coma and they haven’t seen any signs of his coming out of it.

  “So now they want to move him to a nursing home. Of course, the nurse is telling me all this thinking that I’m related. She wants us to meet with the social worker as soon as possible. She said that we may have to go to court and apply for guardianship!”

  “‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave.’ Something Mother has yet to figure out. Relax, we’ll think of something. Look, why don’t you take the groceries upstairs and make us a little pre-prandial cocktail. I’ll close up here and run over to the Tavern and get some sandwiches. We’ll take the night off. We’ll bake and watch Christmas movies and try to get some Christmas spirit.”

  Daisy nodded and headed to the car. “Sounds good. I can use some Christmas spirits.”

  Three hours later Daisy and Rose were sitting on the couch in pajamas sipping Cosmos with Malcolm snoring gently between them. The aroma of baking walnut bread wafted in from the kitchen. They were both relaxed for the first time in days.

  They had already watched A Christmas Carol while they were making the breads. One of the old versions with the goofy looking Tiny Tim and the fat Bob Cratchit.

  Now they were watching Miracle on 34th Street. Daisy kept holding up her Cosmopolitan glass and repeating ‘We’d loooove to have Santa come and stay with us. It will be simply chaaaarming,’ a la Mrs. Shellhammer.

  “She sounds just like Mother at her loopy best!”

  “She does,
doesn’t she? Ooh, good part coming up.” Rose smiled as Kris Kringle got really annoyed and rapped nasty, old Mr. Sawyer on the head with his cane. Rose sat up with a jerk and pushed the pause button.

  “What? What? What?” asked Daisy.

  “That’s what’s been nagging me! You were hit with a fence post.”

  “Yes I was. I could have told you that.”

  “Yes, but who else knew that? We didn’t even know until later when Bill brought the thing by. But I remember hearing someone mentioning it. I can’t remember when or who. I think maybe Mary, someone like that. Maybe not. I don’t know.”

  “It’ll come to you, but really I guess anyone might have found out about the fence post.”

  “I don’t know. Bill certainly wouldn’t tell anybody specific facts of the case and I haven’t mentioned it. Have you?”

  “I don’t think so.” Daisy closed her eyes and tried to think. Then stopped and said, “Hold it! We’re taking the night off, remember? We’ll figure it out in the morning.” She picked up the remote and pressed PLAY.

  When the movie finished they got up and started carrying things to the kitchen. Rose glanced out the window and gasped. “Daisy, someone’s at it again.”

  Daisy looked across the street and saw lights in the attic window of The Book Renew. “I don’t care. I’m too tired to care. And it’s probably Hazel, anyway.”

  “Or maybe it’s Marley’s ghost,” said Rose and lifted her glass in salute.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A call from the hospital woke them Friday morning. The doctor had asked the night nurse to call to say that Mr. Proctor was showing signs of surfacing from the coma.

  “We were happy to see that during the night he opened his eyes and mumbled a few words before he drifted back into a deep sleep again. This is very encouraging. We thought you should know.”

  “Thanks so much. You’ve made our day!” Daisy replied.

  She relayed the message to Rose who said, “See, I told you it would work out. Marc’s going to wake up and we won’t have to worry about a nursing home. I’ll give Mother a call and let her know. She’s going over to read to him this afternoon.”