Whispers of Danger and Love

by Janis Lane

  “Wow. This could run into a large challenge, not to mention I could use the funds. What do you think, Gany? Should I thank Mom and Dad for the vote of confidence? It was certainly a nice surprise to learn they think I could accomplish a project this size. I’m talking to a bird again. Grandmother would laugh, wouldn’t she?” Cheryl filled the parrot’s food dish with seeds and a chopped-up apple. The parrot murmured approval while tilting its head to one side and eyeing the tastiest morsels before settling down to eat.

  If she could work it, she could start this job just as the Toledo one was ending—or meld the two together, phasing one out as the other started up. It might work. She’d need to check out the budget before her head started designing gardens to hide a golf course, even a limited one.

  With her imagination firmly in her notebook designing sand traps, Cheryl absently picked up her phone without checking caller ID. And groaned.

  “Gordon. Don’t you ever work?” She tapped her pen rapidly on the desk. When would he ever give up and leave her in peace?

  “No, no, and no.” . . . She tried to keep her voice quiet to disguise her rising fury. “Those days are absolutely over. I am working, a fact you failed to respect when we were engaged . . . I certainly will not accompany you on a business trip.” She gazed out the window cursing the day she ever met this man.

  “I don’t much care what you think, Gordon. Our engagement ended almost a year ago, but you seem to be in some sort of time warp. Listen to me carefully.” How could she get it across to him? What word selection could she choose that would finally penetrate his closed-off mind?

  “I do not want you to call this number again unless you are ordering plants for your garden. And even then, I will refer you to someone else. Our relationship is over and at this point, I’m questioning whether I want to be your friend. Let it go, Gordon. Do yourself a favor and let it go.” She listened to his pseudo-calm protestations for a second—she knew he was fuming—but he prided himself on keeping his cool. It was all part and partial of his control issues. He just could not believe a mere woman would dump his bullying behind. Well, she had had it and it was time she got tough enough to convince him.

  “Good-bye, Gordon.” She hung up the phone in his mid-sentence and slumped across the desk. Immediately the phone rang again and she glared at it before finally picking it up.

  “I told you not to call this number again! If you keep this up I’ll . . .”

  Jane was sputtering on the other end of the line.

  “Oh, I thought you were that maddening ex-fiancé of mine,” Cheryl interrupted her. “He keeps on acting as if I hadn’t broken the engagement months ago.” . . . She closed her bankbook.

  “I know! It’s exactly why I did break off the relationship. He just sees people as something he controls. He manipulates to get what he wants and doesn’t consider the other person’s feelings at all. Probably thinks I’m one of his employees who must do what he says without question.” . . . She glanced at the clock. Her free rain day was rapidly coming to a close and she hadn’t gotten half the work done she had intended.

  “Pizza? Sure, but could you bring it over here? I still have work to do and if I leave . . . right. Around an hour from now? Pepperoni and mushrooms, oh, and green peppers and olives, sausages if you like them. Thanks, friend. You’ve cheered me up. See you in a little bit.”

  Cheryl hung up and turned to the parrot. “You about ready to retire, Gany? It’s been a busy day in spite of the weather, hasn’t it?” Cheryl knew she sounded just like her nana, talking to a bird as if she could understand. She pulled the cover over the cage and turned out the lights.

  “Just time for a few words on my column. What shall I write about this week?” She sat down at the kitchen table and opened her laptop.

  “Shopping for your Plants”

  by Cheryl

  There are many places to obtain plants for your garden. Local nurseries are probably the number one choice. You can inspect the merchandise on the spot. The nurseryman can answer any questions you have about the plant, including the particular zone it thrives in best. Know your local agricultural zone. A plant can be gorgeous during the summer, but unless it is winter hardy to your area, you are not likely to see it another year. Think Florida and then Maine. The plantings would need different requirements: Florida flora must withstand the heat, whereas Maine plants should stand up to harsh winters. Most local nurserymen are ethical and will notify you of the plant’s hardiness. This is not always true about the plant sections of the box stores.

  For one thing, the clerks might not know. They are taught to water the plants and to service the checkout counter. Plant people they may not be. The lower price could be tempting, but what you gain in bargain hunting may be lost when your plant fails to thrive.

  Form a relationship with the person you buy your plants from the same as you would in any other professional relationship, with the exception of those people who absolutely insist on nursing a sick plant back to health or playing hospice to the ones who die. Another word of caution, examine the plant carefully before you purchase. Look for diseased leaves and pest that may be lurking. One ill plant could infect your entire garden.

  Farmers’ markets and neighbors are two good sources for plants. Farmers who bring their merchandize to market are local citizens. They know the zone and the conditions of the area. Neighbors who garden need a place to unload excess perennials which have been split. Lucky you if you have a neighbor like that.

  A knock on the door made her pause but she didn’t turn around. She needed to finish the column.

  “Come on in, Jane.” She kept working and jumped when a kiss and scratchy beard landed on her bare neck. David. She looked up and held his gaze. She could see immediately that he was tired, wet, and upset. He slide into the chair beside hers and put his head on the table.

  “I need you, Cheryl. Please?”

  She closed her laptop and rose to stand behind him. “Who helped you when you were away?” she asked as she kneaded his shoulders and massaged his neck. He groaned in ecstasy as she dug into the tense muscles.

  “No one ever could help me like you do, little Cher. You have the magic fingers of a saint. Ahhh, just a little to the right.”

  “What’s got you upset? I can see you are in a twist about something. Come on, out with it.” She tugged his ear gently and ran her fingers through his thick hair.

  “Can’t tell you. Some things are best left unsaid, but I can attest to the fact that there is no limit to what man can do to man. Some sort of quote there, I think, but it’s true. And disgusting. It gave me a major headache. You know how I feel when it concerns young people.”

  He straightened up and shrugged his massive shoulders back and forth. Then he reached for her hand. “You are the sweetest, Cher. It feels so much better. Did I hear you say Jane was coming over?”

  “Yep, and I hope she’ll have enough food for you too. How about I make a salad to round it out? Why don’t you go into the bathroom and towel off until the pizza gets here? She might have wings too.”

  He nodded but leaned over to kiss her on top her head while holding her to him briefly. Cheryl leaned her head against his chest and made no protest. He was harmless when his stress headache was acting up. Tension could and often did trigger it. He’d suffered with them since puberty.

  As he left the room, Jane entered the back door laden with food. She did indeed have Buffalo wings as well as a large pizza. David must have sniffed it out. She dropped it all on the table and collapsed into a kitchen chair.

  “Whew. That rain is fierce. Could hardly see to drive that last mile. Do we need to build an ark? What’re you making? I thought I’d covered all the bases. Oh.”

  Jane stared, and her mouth dropped open as David, partially wrapped in a blanket, came bare-chested into the room.

 
“Oh my,” she said. “You’re here. Hello, David. How are you?” She started to babble staring at the tangle of black hair on his chest which arrowed down in an intriguing v and disappeared into a pair of well-fitted jeans.

  Cheryl turned away. She couldn’t blame Jane. David was a spectacular sight. Cheryl had to busy herself to maintain her own calm balance at the sight of the partially naked detective.

  “Can I dry your shirt, David?” she asked without turning around. She waited until he handed it to her then hurried to the back utility room. She leaned over the washing machine and took a deep breath.

  Opening the dryer, she thrust his shirt inside, acutely aware of the familiar scent of David.

  Concentrate on the pizza, she chided her rampant libido, hoping it would subside. Her vulnerabilities to this man were getting out of control. Why didn’t an immune set up the more she saw of him instead of a reaction the other way? A chemical bonding must have happened when she was otherwise occupied. Now she couldn’t shake it loose. Had she really tried? Really? She shook herself and reentered the room. Thank goodness the fragrance of a well-made pizza filled the kitchen, blocking out any other tempting aromas.

  Chapter 9

  With Jane riding shotgun, Cheryl turned into the gated subdivision and started calling out street names. An invading army would never find their way around this place, Cheryl thought. Perhaps this was in the planner’s mind when he laid out the initial design.

  The homes were widely spaced with trees shading acres of well-kept lawn with foundation plantings, but with her expert eye, Cheryl could see few perennial gardens. Did her clients know their plans would stand their grounds out in a neighborhood that kept actual gardening to a minimum? Not my problem, but I will warn them in advance of any actual work.

  The house was large, about ten years old and to her critical eye, boring. And expensive. This couple was on the way up the corporate ladder. Not much to change. The acreage in back seemed to consist of scrub brush, first forestation, and native trees. The front was a sculptured lawn probably maintained by a service. Although the recent rain was helping, it was obvious the lawn suffered from heat, lack of water, and too many close mows. The service liked its money. A sprinkling system would have been an asset.

  She wished the rain had actually stopped. The sun tried, but according to the weather report, bands of rain showers would continue to sweep the area at least through today. Jane and she were suitably decked out to walk the grounds, rain or shine, but it was always more pleasant to explore in dry weather. A phone call had alerted Betts, and she met them at the door.

  “What can I get you? Tea? Coffee?” Her smile was almost blinding, but now Cheryl understood it was her way of chasing nerves.

  She kept shaking her head no. “We just need access to your back acreage. I wouldn’t want the neighbors to call the police if they saw us. How about I stop back by here before we leave? By the way, this is my friend, Jane Stewart. She works with me.”

  The two exchanged pleasantries and Cheryl headed for the back door. She wanted to get back to the Toledo job if the rain stopped long enough for the equipment to get in. This shouldn’t take very long.

  Cheryl was pleased her initial assessment was correct. This land was practically a blank canvas in spite of the beauty of the wild flowers that grew there. Most of the growth could be scraped out without any trouble. Shifting her eyes toward what she thought might be the very back of the lot, she could see the neighbor directly behind had a line of evergreens no doubt marking the property line. One good-sized oak tree beckoned her forward. They would make sure to save it. It was a sin to destroy a valuable hardwood tree that took so many years to grow.

  Jane wandered off calling out that she had spotted wild black berries. Cheryl neared the oak and stared up into the branches admiring the strong, healthy specimen. The ground underneath and around the tree was barren, naked hard-packed earth, either from lack of water or from frequent picnic visitors in the past.

  The wind puffed moisture-laden air toward her and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. She walked around the tree expecting to find an animal carcass, but it was a person instead, sitting upright leaning his head against the oak tree.

  Dead. Very dead. Bugs were crawling out of places Cheryl didn’t want to contemplate. With a great deal of effort, she suppressed a scream. Hands shaking, she reached into her pocket for her cell and dialed 911. After she completed the call, she called out to her friend.

  “Jane, can you come over here for a second?” She’d send Jane to inform Betts that the police would soon be arriving.

  “Why are the police coming?” Jane asked. “What did we do wrong this time?”

  Cheryl explained but recommended to Jane not to look around the tree.

  “It’s not a pretty sight. You’d be better off not knowing.” Nausea rose up, and Cheryl felt slightly dizzy. The dank odor tickled her nose and she swallowed rapidly trying to control her senses. “I wish I hadn’t seen the poor man myself.”

  “Okay. I’ll take your word for it. I’ll wait for you at the Malone’s house, all right?” She trudged through the brush, glancing back at Cheryl a time or two, her face a study in confusion with a smear of berry juice on her lips.

  Cheryl shifted slightly to glance behind and spotted a shoe entangled in a short patch of wild St. John’s wort. She wasn’t certain it belonged to the dead man. She hadn’t noticed if he had on both his shoes. Then belatedly she remembered she shouldn’t be contaminating a crime scene and moved back to the safe side of the oak. In the distance, she heard the whine of police sirens. She breathed a sigh of relief. This was not a problem for her to solve.

  When David arrived, she was standing alone out in the street. He jumped out of his car and gathered her firmly to him. For once, she relaxed and let herself be completely engulfed by those protective arms. They had been there for her when she was a frightened young girl and there for her now. Safe.

  She needed to feel safe. The familiar smell of David surrounded her, and she snuggled her head on his chest, oblivious to the poke of a gun holster into her shoulder. He murmured soft words and squeezed her, comforting her as if she were still that ten-year-old who fell out of the apple tree.

  “You okay, Cher? You’ll be just fine in a little bit. It’s upsetting to see violence like that. I know, honey. I know.” He cuddled her for a moment, leaning against her car.

  Finally, she lifted her head. “I found one of your men, David. Did they tell you?”

  He tucked her head back down on his chest.

  “Yeah, baby. They told me. That’s how I knew where you were. What were you and Jane doing out there in the first place? How do you know these people?” He released her and they walked a little way toward his car.

  “Potential clients. Only met them yesterday. My parents recommended them. They know them from the Country Club.” She shuddered, still trying to erase the visual of the dead man behind an oak tree.

  David had shifted into full detective mode and gave her a glance that expressed doubt. He wasn’t rolling his eyes yet, she thought. Cheryl knew he had always considered the country club crowd snobs, although he respected her parents.

  “What were you doing way back there? Weren’t the gardens closer to the house?” Still holding her hand firmly, he scanned the area.

  Cheryl gulped and swallowed a hysterical giggle. She held tight to David’s hand, still needing the comfort of him near her.

  “They want me to build them a golf practice area in their backyard.” She looked up at him and wondered why she spent so much time pushing him away. His solid chest and shoulders were almost like a barrier between her and a world gone weird.

  “They want you to put a putting green in their backyard?” David shook his head. “Are they nuts? This is a restricted neighborhood.”

  “Yes. I was just mak
ing a preliminary inspection of the grounds. I haven’t actually accepted the job.” She stepped away enough to see David’s face. “Who is that man? And who do you think shot him?”

  “Well, you might have guessed he was a friend of Toledo’s. Yes, he’s one of the men in the photos we gave you, not from around here, but he was expected to show up in the area. Just not dead. This complicates the case.”

  They stood silent for a minute, still holding hands, until Jane appeared leaving by the front door of the Malone’s house and started down the drive toward them. Cheryl let go of David’s hand. He tilted her chin up, inspecting her eyes and face critically.

  “You gonna be all right? You want me to drive you home?”

  With all my heart! “No, Jane and I have other things we need to be doing this morning. Do you think you can come over tonight and tell me more about all this?”

  He nodded but Cheryl could see he was distracted. He reached for his cell in the holder at his belt. Still murmuring into the phone, he pulled her to him from the nape of her neck. He planted a quick but firm kiss on her lips and strolled toward the black-and-white parked up the street. As he left, he was still concentrating on the phone conversation.

  Jane gave a huge sigh as she climbed into Cheryl’s car. “I swear. Life with you is never dull. All the adventures we’ve had never included a dead body before. Who do you think that man was? Some burglar? What was he doing way back there?” She buckled her seat belt as Cheryl pulled swiftly out into traffic.

  “I dunno to all your questions. Can we just concentrate on getting the heck out of here right now? David promised to come over tonight and give me more information. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out. I knew the minute I saw that couple there would be trouble. Some sort of premonition, don’t really know why. They seem nice enough, and it wasn’t their fault some man decided to die right there underneath their tree.” Cheryl couldn’t stop herself from shuddering. She wondered how long it would be before she stopped seeing that blank stare. “I hope I don’t dream about it.”