A Dawn of Death

by Gin Jones

  Annie Quattrone was across the street, next to the Dear Crossing sign, dressed for office work in black pants and a turquoise knit shirt instead of her gardening clothes. She gestured for Helen to come over and join her.

  Helen checked for traffic and saw her car coming toward her. She waved at Jack and then pointed at Annie to let him know where she was going. He waved back and continued down the street, presumably to return to wherever he'd been parked before.

  She gave one last irritable glance at the Dear Crossing sign before stepping out into the street. She was particularly glad she didn't have her cane with her. She might look older than her actual age of forty-six, but at least she wasn't too close a match to the decrepit creatures on the sign.

  "Have you had lunch yet?" Annie said as soon as Helen reached the other side of the street. "I was on my way to the dining hall when I saw you, and I'd really like to talk to you about the garden's future."

  Helen had some questions of her own, and Annie might well have the answers. "I'd love to have lunch with you."

  Annie pointed out the various features of the Wharton Meadows campus as they walked. The residential buildings were unremarkable—three-story brick buildings with white trim and nothing to differentiate them other than the numbers on the front doors—but the landscaping was both artistically designed and meticulously maintained. Each of the residences had a wave of daffodils near the foundation, while the administrative building had an impressive display of tulips in a circular bed at the base of a massive flagpole.

  They passed the administrative building where Annie said both she and her husband had their offices and continued all the way to the very center of the campus. From the outside, the dining hall was just another bland brick building somewhat hidden by the surrounding apartments since it was only one-and-a-half stories high. Inside, though, it looked like an upscale restaurant that had fallen on some hard times and was showing its age. Oversized windows let in natural sunshine, and the high ceilings made the place feel more spacious than it was. White tablecloths and small vases of flowers added a bit of luxury. On the other hand, there were too many tables for the space, and the gray tweed carpeting could no longer camouflage all the stains that had accumulated over time. A buffet line was discretely hidden in the corner, and three young women in white blouses and black pants waited at the end to help anyone who couldn't carry her own tray.

  It was apparently late for the lunch crowd, nearing 1:30, so only half a dozen tables were occupied. Nevertheless, there was plenty of food in the buffet, and it looked both healthy and tasty. Annie recommended the tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich combination. "The soup is made from scratch here on site, so there's less sodium and more flavor from herbs. We get the bread from a local bakery."

  "Sounds good." Helen ladled some soup into a bowl while the cook behind the counter made her sandwich. When it was ready, she continued down the line to check out the desserts. They were offered in tiny portions, but they appeared to make up for the size with the richness of their ingredients. Helen added a plate of three bite-sized fruit tarts to her tray before heading to the beverage setup. While she poured herself a cup of hot water for tea, one of the young women carried Helen's tray over to a table deep in a corner of the room, between the front and side walls, one of the rare places where the carpet still looked new. A few weeks ago, Helen would have been limping and attracting all sorts of unwanted assistance in the trip across the room, and it was nice not to have to deal with that today.

  Annie was already at the table, seated with her back to one of the walls and her napkin tucked in her lap. "Go ahead and eat while everything's still hot. We can talk afterwards."

  Helen took the other seat that faced out into the room and settled in to eat in comfortable silence. Once she'd had a chance to try everything except the tarts, she said, "This food is great. I don't suppose they do takeout."

  Annie smiled. "They do, but just for the residents."

  "Too bad," Helen said. "A friend of mine would have loved this soup. We have lunch together frequently, and I'm not much of a cook. He's not ready for the old-age home yet though."

  "I wish people wouldn't think of this place like that," Annie said earnestly. "It's really more like a residential college for people who are mature enough to appreciate all the amenities that kids take for granted back when they're in school. There are great housing, dining, and medical resources here, of course, but we also provide a wide variety of recreational and educational activities. You should take the tour sometime."

  Helen stifled the urge to shrink back in horror. If her nieces ever found out about the tour, they'd take it as evidence that she was ready to move into the facility. "If everything else is like the dining hall, it must be amazing."

  "It is." Annie set down her spoon and pushed the empty soup bowl to one side so she could lean forward. "But that isn't why I wanted to talk to you. It's about the garden. I've got an idea for how we can end the squabbling over the title to the land."

  "Have you told Dale?"

  Annie shook her head and then glanced furtively at the entrance to the dining hall as if she expected Dale to make a surprise appearance. "I was hoping you could help with that. Dale might listen to you. She said you were a force to be reckoned with during your days in the Governor's Mansion. She respects you."

  "I'm sure she respects you too," Helen said. "I've heard that you're the one who actually keeps the garden club going while Dale is mostly just a figurehead."

  "I do what I can, but Dale doesn't know how much more I could do if she'd just let me. She pigeonholes me in a limited role and takes me for granted." Annie shrugged. "Everyone does. It's okay most of the time. I like working behind the scenes, and I don't care who gets the credit."

  Helen understood that feeling. She'd never been fond of the fortunately infrequent political events where she'd been the center of attention as the state's first lady. She'd always been happier supporting Frank from the shadows and leaving him to do all the public appearances and schmoozing. Still, it had been nice when Frank acknowledged how much help she was, and he'd always been good at doing that, keeping her from feeling resentful. She had to wonder if Dale was as generous with expressing her gratitude.

  Annie continued. "Sometimes it would be better if I could get people to notice me, but I know that won't happen, so I find ways around it. Like enlisting people who will be listened to. Dale would pay more attention to anything you propose than to anything I say."

  "What's your idea?"

  "Move the garden," Annie said promptly. "Find another parcel of land, buy it outright, and let the town sell the old property. Then everyone's happy."

  That seemed too easy and too obvious. "Hasn't anyone suggested that to Dale already?"

  "I don't think anyone dared," Annie said, glancing at the entrance again. "Dale has an almost pathological attachment to the current location. I thought she might take it better if I could identify a new location that's better somehow than the current land. Bigger perhaps or less likely to flood during the growing season. That sort of thing."

  "Did you find a place?"

  "Actually, I did." Annie swapped her empty sandwich plate for her own dessert plate, which contained three oatmeal cookies the same tiny size as Helen's tarts. "The thing is, it belongs to Toth Construction. Sheryl bought it for a song years ago, knowing it wasn't buildable but counting on future technology to change that. See, there's a high water table which prevents the land from passing a perc test for a septic system using traditional technology. Sheryl had been keeping an eye out for new options, but so far she hadn't found one. An above-ground septic system would take up too much of the land to allow the development to turn a profit, and it would be even more expensive to connect to the closest sewer connection. Which isn't a problem for gardening, just for residential construction. I'd been talking to Sheryl about selling it to the garden club for what she paid for it, possibly even setting up a charitable trust so she could write it off
as a charitable contribution."

  "Was Sheryl considering the idea?"

  "She was." Annie broke one of the tiny cookies in half. "At least she had been, and then something changed. I talked to her the day before she died, and she was angry about something. Wouldn't say what. Just that negotiations for the alternative garden location were over. Claimed she was going to show Dale who had the real power in this town."

  Was that what Sheryl had been doing when she parked the bulldozer on the garden land? And if she'd been that intent on making a statement, wouldn't she have wanted to have an audience for it? No one held a rally or protest without publicizing it. Wouldn't Sheryl have made sure that at least Dale was there to see the bulldozer arrive? If so, Dale didn't seem like the type to ignore a challenge. She would have gone to the garden to confront her nemesis.

  Things were definitely not looking good for the garden's future in its current location. If Detective Peterson found out that Dale and Sheryl had argued on Friday, he was definitely going to do more than go through the motions of treating the case as a homicide. Then Helen's new hobby would be cut as short as the pea seedling the cutworm had gotten to.

  Once Peterson got to thinking the death wasn't accidental, there were more suspects besides Dale. In fact, Annie had just admitted to having a motive in the case. With Sheryl dead, whoever took over her construction company might be willing to sell the unbuildable land to the garden club.

  "Tell me more about the new location," Helen said. "Was it really that much better than the current location?"

  "Definitely." Annie ticked off each item as she spoke. "It's been maintained as a hay field, so there aren't any of those annoying stumps to get in our way. Most of the lot gets full sun, but there are some slightly shady areas for heat-sensitive crops. And it's about twice as big."

  "I would think the size alone would be enough to convince most people."

  "It should," Annie said. "Especially among the gardeners who'd like to plant some perennials. We'd have enough room in the back to plant a small orchard with dwarf fruit trees and grapes and berries. Plus a spot to grow perennial herbs and things like garlic that need to overwinter."

  That certainly sounded good to Helen. She hadn't planned to grow her own fruits, but she had been thinking about growing a tea tree or two. "What about tea?"

  Annie blinked. "Tea? I've never heard of anyone growing tea around here. Camellia plants can grow here, but you'd need to bring them indoors during the winter. I think they grow to be at least four feet high and the same size wide. At that point, it might be difficult to transport them between your house and the garden."

  "I like a challenge."

  CHAPTER TEN

  The only challenge facing Helen during the remainder of her lunch was resisting the urge to go back to the dessert table for more of the fruit tarts. Like everything else in the dining hall, they'd exceeded expectations. Just not by enough to tempt Helen into moving to Wharton Meadows. She liked her cottage and her independence—and Tate's near-but-not-too-near presence in the garage—too much to give them up without a struggle.

  Annie left to return to her office, and Helen went to look for Jack. While she'd been having lunch, he'd somehow managed to get a parking spot a little to the right of the Averys' driveway.

  The crosswalk was to Helen's left, and she was tempted to jaywalk over to her car so as to avoid the cringe-worthy sign at the crosswalk. She wasn't as foolhardy as some people thought, though, and there really was a considerable amount of traffic for a residential area.

  Helen sighed and headed over to the crosswalk. After waiting for three cars and a truck to pass, she stepped out into the street. She was nearing the center line when Jack started shouting. At the same time, she heard an engine approaching from her left. She looked in that direction to see a bright red vehicle bearing down on her. She yelped involuntarily and raced forward as quickly as her out-of-shape leg muscles would allow. She felt the rush of air as the SUV brushed past her, the driver's side mirror coming within a hair's breadth of hitting her.

  There was a screech of belated brakes, but all she could think about was staying on her feet long enough to reach the other side of the road. She might have collapsed from the shock after just a couple of steps if Jack hadn't reached her just in time to offer her a bit of support, proving once again that he had some sort of weird chauffeur's ability to anticipate when he was needed.

  Helen leaned against the Subaru Forester, hoping it wouldn't be long before her shaking subsided enough that she could climb into the passenger seat.

  A car door slammed nearby, and a moment later, RJ was hovering over her, swearing under his breath. "Are you all right? I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. I didn't see you. I should have been paying closer attention, but Dad was trying to disconnect his seatbelt, and I swear I only took my eyes off the road for a second. I could have killed you. I'm so sorry."

  "I'm fine."

  "Are you sure?" he said. "I've seen situations in combat where the adrenaline kept a person from realizing he was hurt. Even if there's no physical injury, shock can kill. Perhaps I should take you to the hospital to be checked out."

  "No, really, I'm fine. Just a little shaky, and I'll be seeing my visiting nurse in an hour or so anyway. If I'm not better by then, she'll know what to do." Helen heard another car door open and glanced at the red SUV parked in the middle of the road two or three car lengths beyond the crosswalk. "You're needed for other things. It looks like your father succeeded in getting out of the seatbelt, after all."

  "Oh—" RJ swallowed another curse. "I'd duct tape his seat belt shut, but then I'd probably be charged with senior abuse. Sorry. I've got to go. As soon as he's settled, I can still take you to the hospital if you want though. I've made the trip often enough with Dad."

  "I'm fine. Really." This time, it was the truth. Almost. She would be fine once she got home and had a nice relaxing cup of tea. Maybe sit and read some more of the magazines Dale had given her. They really were giving her a whole new perspective on gardening.

  After RJ left, Helen's legs were still wobbling. This one time, she decided, it wouldn't kill her to let Jack give her a hand into the passenger's seat. Just so long as he didn't make a habit of it.

  * * *

  Tate's car wasn't parked outside the garage when Helen got home, even though it was too early for him to have left for the day. He must not have returned to the workshop after he dealt with whatever had caused him to cancel their lunch. Probably something to do with his extended family. She'd learned recently that he was almost as protective of his relatives as Helen's nieces were of her, although he usually waited until he was asked for help instead of foisting it upon anyone.

  She'd hoped to ask him what he thought about the fact that Sheryl was apparently quite skilled with heavy construction equipment and how that affected the odds of her death being an accident, but it could wait until tomorrow. For now, she needed to hurry up and get rid of the remaining symptoms of shock from the near miss in the crosswalk. Her hands were still shaking slightly, and she needed to get them under control before Rebecca Grainger, her visiting nurse, arrived any minute now.

  Helen had only managed to settle into her recliner with Vicky curled up on her lap and glance at a few pages of an issue of GreenPrints before she heard the crunch of tires on her gravel driveway. Vicky raised her head and sniffed the air before jumping down and sauntering off to the bedroom. She usually liked company, especially when it meant being the center of attention and admiration, but she tended to disappear whenever the nurse visited. It almost seemed as if she were snubbing the woman for having questioned Helen's decision to adopt Vicky who was known for her antisocial behavior. The cat had mellowed under Helen's care, and Rebecca had eventually conceded that there were significant health benefits to pet ownership. Vicky, however, wasn't ready to forgive and forget.

  Helen, on the other hand, rather liked Rebecca and admired her dedication to her work. The short, redheaded woman
was still in her midtwenties, but the deep worry lines in her round face made her look older than her patient.

  Helen had a feeling that her current blood pressure and pulse readings were going to add another line to the nurse's face. She let the nurse in and returned to her recliner.

  "Before we do the usual," Helen said, hoping to delay the testing long enough to finish calming down, "I've got some questions for you."

  Rebecca frowned. "What's wrong? Have your symptoms reappeared?"

  "Nothing like that." On second thought, talking about her remission was as good a distraction as anything else might be. "I'm just wondering how long I can expect to be feeling as good as I do now."

  Rebecca sat on a stool with her back to the kitchen island and facing her patient. "It's too variable to predict. Some people go into remission for decades, some only for months or weeks. You still need to take your meds and continue with a healthy lifestyle."

  "I know. I know," Helen said. "Eat right, get plenty of rest and as much exercise as I can tolerate."

  "And avoid stressful situations." Rebecca nodded at the front door where Helen's cane used to hang. "Where's your cane?"

  "I put it away." Helen hated the way it made people view her differently, as someone who was weak and easy to dismiss. "I don't need it anymore."

  "Just don't get rid of it completely," Rebecca said. "You never know when you might experience another flare. Patients often learn to recognize the warning signs of a relapse, but from what I've read in your records, you haven't been through many cycles of ups and downs yet, so you might not realize what your body is trying to tell you."

  "I'm not going to relapse," Helen said. "At least, I'm doing everything possible to prevent it. I've even joined the community garden so I can grow my own organic vegetables. It's good exercise, and it will help me eat better."