Green Living Can Be Deadly (A Blossom Valley Mystery)

by McLaughlin, Staci

  I waited, but Drew’s gaze focused on a stain on the carpet and stayed there.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  Drew’s head snapped up. “What?” She took a swig from the bottle. “Oh, right, I went through the shredder clippings. Wendy bought these cheap-ass shredders for everyone. She thought ’cause it was crosscut that you couldn’t read anything once you shredded it, but you can. It’s just in shorter strips. The strips clump together sometimes, so it’s easy to figure out which strips go together.”

  I made a mental note to replace the shredder at the farm. “And you found proof that Wendy was stealing?”

  “I wasn’t sure what I’d found, but I told Marvin about it. I would have found it sooner, only it was the wrong shredder.”

  Before I could ask what that meant, someone knocked on the door. I’d been so intent on what Drew was saying that I literally jumped, all my nerves springing to life. I stayed silent, willing Drew to do the same. Maybe a magazine salesman was at the door, one who would give up and go away, so we could get back to who had killed Wendy.

  The knock came again, and Drew used the seat of the chair to rise, almost pulling the chair down on top of her instead.

  “Wonder who that could be,” she said as she reeled to the door.

  She turned the knob. Whoever was on the other side shoved it open, whacking into Drew and sending her back to the carpet on her rump.

  “Jesus, Drew,” Kurt said as he appeared in the doorway. He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. “Why aren’t you answering your cell? I got worried.”

  I felt sweat break out all over my body. If Kurt had scratched up my car over me asking a few simple questions, what would he do when he found out his girlfriend had been blabbing to me?

  31

  Kurt hadn’t noticed me yet. I rose from my spot on the sofa, readying myself in case he reacted badly to my presence. “Drew and I were talking,” I said, sounding a lot braver than I felt.

  He jerked his head around and glared. “What are you doing here?” He gripped Drew’s shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Drinking away my pain,” she said.

  Oh, boy.

  “Drew told me she’s the one who blew the whistle on Wendy’s embezzlement,” I blurted out. “After you convinced her to spy on your sister, that is.”

  Kurt let go of Drew and moved toward me. I wondered if I’d overstepped my bounds. With a drunken girlfriend as the only witness in this tiny place, who knew what he might do to me?

  “I was sure Wendy was conning people,” he growled at me. “She always had something going. I wanted to ruin her, like she ruined me. She took away my whole life.”

  “Do you blame her for your wife leaving?” I asked, mentally cursing my inability to keep quiet.

  Kurt squeezed his hands into fists. “My wife always had expensive tastes, and that requires money. If I’d gotten my fair share of the inheritance, I’d still be married.” Drew let out a little whimper, and Kurt patted her arm. “Hey, I’m glad we met, honey. Don’t get upset.” He faced me again. “Once Drew told Marvin what she’d found, I could watch Wendy’s life fall apart. No way could she talk her way out of this one.”

  “So, you’re saying you didn’t need to kill her, since you were going to mess up her life instead?”

  “You got it. I planned to sit back and enjoy the show. That’s it. I’m not a violent guy.”

  I put my hands on my hips, completely forgetting to keep my defenses up. “Then how do you explain my car hood?”

  Confusion crossed Kurt’s face, and I felt an inkling of doubt. “I don’t know anything about your hood.”

  “Are you saying that you didn’t scratch ‘back off’ in the paint?”

  Drew leaned against Kurt, and he used one hand to prop her up. “If I wanted you to back off, I’d tell you to your face. In fact, I have, more than once, but you don’t seem to be getting the message.”

  If Kurt hadn’t done it, who else would have scratched my car? I looked at Drew. “Was it you?”

  “Nope.” She waggled a finger at me. “Somebody doesn’t like you.” She slapped a hand to her mouth and gagged a couple of times. Then she threw up all over the carpet.

  That was my signal to leave. I moved to the door as the first acidic smells of the mess on the floor assaulted my nose. Kurt made a disgusted noise and disappeared into the kitchen, returning almost immediately with a roll of paper towels. Drew stared at her shoes, mesmerized by the goo that ran down the sides.

  “I can show myself out.” I slipped out the door, keys already in hand, the faint stink of vomit still clinging to my nostrils. As I headed to my car, I almost bumped into Helen as she came up the walk.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Dropping off your snickerdoodles?” she asked.

  For a second, I had no idea what she was talking about. Then I remembered my ridiculous excuse for needing Drew’s address. “All taken care of,” I said vaguely. “What brings you here?”

  Helen held up an envelope. “Drew’s two-week severance. With me leaving, and the company in limbo, I have no idea when, or even if, she could return to work. I don’t want to string her along. I had business in town today, so I thought I’d deliver the check in person.”

  I studied Helen with her business suit and professional haircut. “You sure got hired at that new place fast. Any chance you were already looking?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m a well-respected member of the green community. I’m often approached with job offers from other companies.”

  I wasn’t buying it. “But Wendy just died. Either the place where you’re going has a very streamlined hiring process, or else you accepted the offer before Wendy’s death.”

  Helen clutched the envelope tighter, leaving creases in the paper. “Perhaps.”

  “But Invisible Prints was your life. I can’t imagine that you’d accept another job, unless you felt Wendy’s company was failing.” Then I had another thought. “Did you know about the missing money before Wendy was killed?”

  Helen tossed her head. “Wouldn’t I have said something if I’d known?”

  Not exactly a denial. “I don’t know, would you?”

  Helen checked her watch. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I don’t have time for this.”

  I crossed my arms. “Tell me the truth, and I’ll stop pestering you.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it would be to stay in this industry if word got out that Wendy stole all that money? No way would people believe that I wasn’t involved.”

  “What about all that respect you were just talking about?”

  Helen shook her head. “That’s no good against the rumormongers. They would have dragged me down, right along with Wendy. As soon as I realized what she’d done, I started looking for another job. Once I landed something, then I would have gone to the police, but Wendy was killed before that happened.” She moved forward and I stepped aside. “Happy now?” she asked.

  “Very. Thanks.”

  She huffed past me, and I turned toward my car, thinking about the information I’d just gathered. I’d confirmed why Drew was working at Invisible Prints and who had told Marvin about the missing money. And Helen had admitted she knew about the money before Wendy was killed, but she had decided to pursue a new job before reporting it. But what, if anything, did all of that have to do with Wendy’s murder?

  The next morning, I parked my Honda in a vacant spot at the farm and walked along the path past the vegetable garden. As I neared the corner of the cabins, I saw Lily over by the spa entrance.

  “Lily!” I called.

  She looked back, a frown on her face. “Why are you here?” she demanded as I caught up to her.

  Yikes, how offended should I be? “Well, I do work here.”

  “Sorry, that sounded terrible.”

  She put a hand to her temple, as she had during our previous conversation, and I had to wonder if I was the cause of her headaches.r />
  “If I’m ever going to soothe my spirit, I need to surround myself with positive things.”

  Am I negative? I’d always thought of myself as rather upbeat. “Something still bothering you? I didn’t expect to see you back so soon after you rushed off yesterday.”

  “Gretchen was able to squeeze me in for an early-morning appointment. I’ve cleared my mental tensions, and now I must rid myself of the physical constraints.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  Lily reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. “It must be divine intervention that I ran into you. I was planning to give this to Gretchen, but if I’m going to atone for my deeds, I need to face them head-on.” She shoved the envelope into my hand. “Now, excuse me. Gretchen’s waiting.”

  Wondering exactly what wrong she was righting, I opened the envelope. Inside was a stack of twenties, several hundred dollars’ worth, judging by the thickness.

  Why on earth is Lily giving me this? What is she paying for? Realization dawned.

  “Hey,” I called before she could disappear into the tent, “you’re the one who scratched my hood. Why?”

  She stopped in midstride and faced me. She looked like she was ready to protest her innocence, but then her shoulders sagged. “I’m so embarrassed. I’ve been working on my anger issues with my therapist, but sometimes I can’t control myself.”

  I didn’t hide my irritation. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. But you were asking all those questions like I was a suspect. Me! I’m a nurse. I help people, and you went and accused me of something as horrible as killing a person.” She was starting to talk faster, her words flying. “All you were doing was stirring up trouble, and I wanted you to stop.”

  “That was a reason to vandalize my car?” A flash of inspiration struck. “Did you break all the windows at Invisible Prints, too?”

  She flushed. “I didn’t mean to. I went there that night to talk to someone and see where all that money went, but no one was there.” She looked off toward the hills, but I was pretty sure she was really looking toward her memories of that night. “I stood outside, staring at the building that represented all these lies, and I was filled with such rage.” She searched my face.

  I couldn’t condone her actions, but I could definitely understand her fury at being duped. “You lost a lot of money,” I said.

  “It’s not so much about losing the money, but that it wasn’t used to do anything good. No one planted trees. No one supported the wind farms. While I was busy flying all over the country, my money did nothing.” The flush reached the tips of her ears. “I only meant to break one window. I picked up a rock and threw it at the closest one. The sound of the breaking glass, the sense of power, it was so cathartic. I couldn’t stop myself. I scooped up anything I could find and broke them all.” Her face was colored a full-fledged fire engine red now. “I’ve been ashamed ever since, which is why I gave you that envelope a moment ago and sent Invisible Prints money to cover the damages.” Lily laughed. “Funny, isn’t it? As much money as I’ve already given them, I shouldn’t have felt obligated, but I still did. And I got my first night’s sleep last night.”

  “Now that I know who marked up my car, maybe I can sleep, too.”

  She had the good grace to drop her gaze. “I should really get that massage,” she mumbled. With a sweep of her long brown hair, she turned and disappeared inside the tent.

  I carefully tucked the envelope into my pocket and resumed my course toward the house, with my thoughts on Lily. She might have moved on, now that she’d paid for her actions, but I hadn’t. If she was so angry that she couldn’t stop herself from breaking those giant windows and scratching my car, then surely that same anger could have propelled her to kill Wendy. It only took a second to slit someone’s throat. Lily could have acted before she even knew what she was doing.

  Of course that didn’t explain Preston’s murder. Maybe he knew something, and Lily had killed him to protect herself, even if she’d claimed she’d never heard of him. What could he have known? And how could I find out?

  32

  I sidestepped a line of ducks headed for the pond out front, wondering about the motive for Preston’s murder. Maybe the killer, either Lily or someone else, only assumed Preston knew something he shouldn’t. That would make identifying the culprit almost impossible, but I felt confident that whoever killed Wendy was responsible for Preston’s death as well.

  Shoving these thoughts from my mind, I stopped at the office to stick the envelope full of money into my purse, type up the morning’s blog, and post an update on Facebook. I then placed a call to Detective Palmer to let him know about Lily’s anger management issues. He didn’t answer, so I left a detailed message. He might need that information for the murder investigation. After I ended the call, I went to the lobby to see if Gordon had gotten feedback on the festival yet.

  He was typing on the computer, referring to his clipboard from time to time. His dark suit and striped tie added a touch of formality to the casual lobby. He held up one finger to indicate he’d be done in a moment. I straightened the brochures on the coffee table, plucked dead leaves off the ficus, and watched out the window as the ducks slid into the pond.

  When Gordon cleared his throat, I swung around to face him and asked, “Have any vendors returned their comment cards for the festival?”

  He reached under the counter and pulled out a stack of papers. “Most have, and the majority was positive. They liked the selection of vendors, the advertising, and the location.”

  “What about the negative comments?”

  He shuffled through the stack. “They had the opposite opinion. Complained there wasn’t enough advertising, the location was limited, and some of the vendors shouldn’t have been included. One guy said he was disgusted to see a man peddling dog poop.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, Helen, a woman from Invisible Prints, said the same thing. We might need to deny that guy access next year.”

  “Speaking of next year, let’s plan to hold the festival again. If we make the event big enough, even more people from out of town will visit, and they’ll need a place to stay.”

  “Great. I’ll work with the committee to come up with some new ideas for expansion.”

  Gordon straightened his tie. “I’m sure you will.”

  I stared. That was at least two votes of confidence this week. I could really get used to this new Gordon.

  He resumed his work, and I saw him frowning at whatever he was reading on his clipboard. “‘Gooey duck,’” he muttered under his breath. “What on earth is ‘gooey duck’?”

  “It’s a clam,” I volunteered. “Zennia made a clam dish for the guests a few days ago.”

  He jabbed the page with his index finger. “It cost how much?” he bellowed.

  Uh-oh. “Zennia mentioned the gooey duck is expensive, but she really wants to draw more foodies to the spa, so she’s offering unusual dishes.”

  Gordon violently twisted the ring on his pinkie. “I can’t take it anymore.”

  Time for some damage control. “Have I mentioned how nice it’s been to work with you lately? You’ve been so open-minded and pleasant.”

  He threw the clipboard on the floor, and I took a step back.

  “Look where it’s gotten me,” he snapped. “Zennia’s buying overpriced seafood. Esther’s passing out free chocolate bars to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who shows up, and you . . .” He pointed his finger at me, and I gulped. “You ate my turkey!”

  I pointed right back at him. “Not all of it. And I offered to buy you a new package.”

  Gordon threw a pen on the floor. It landed near the clipboard. He paced behind the counter. “I knew that instructor at the management seminar was full of it. He said I should be more trusting of my employees. He said that if I’d back off, you guys would excel at your positions. But have you? No!”

  I started to defend myself, but he wasn�
��t done. “You didn’t even ask me about those stupid oinking pens you handed out at the festival. I’m surprised we’re not bankrupt the way everyone around here spends money.”

  Gordon paused for breath, but I knew his ranting could last all day. Suppressing a smile at his antics, I hurried down the hall before he threw the computer monitor.

  Esther and Zennia sat at the kitchen table, hunched over an open cookbook. They looked up as I entered.

  “The jig’s up,” I said. “Gordon’s back to his old management style. You know, the one where he yells at everyone.”

  “Oh, dear,” Esther said.

  “And here I was starting to like the new Gordon,” Zennia said. “His aura was such a healthy color.”

  “Well, his aura is a solid black now. Just so you know, that gooey duck helped send him over the edge.”

  Zennia closed the cookbook and slid it on the shelf with the others. “Better make myself scarce for a while. Think I’ll run into town for supplies.” She grabbed her sweater and disappeared out the back door.

  Esther rose and tugged down her denim shirt. “I suppose I should talk to Gordon. See if I can soothe his ruffled feathers.” She walked toward the lobby.

  Alone in the kitchen, I listened to the ticking of the rooster clock. My stomach growled. Driving home for lunch was a waste of gas, and stopping for fast food was a waste of money, especially since I needed to pay rent now. Instead, I rummaged around the pantry until I came up with a can of line-caught tuna and a box of whole wheat crackers. I added green onions and a small dab of Zennia’s homemade tofu mayonnaise to the tuna before smearing it on a cracker. Not the most delicious lunch, but it’d get me through the day.

  After I’d eaten, I cleaned up the kitchen and headed out back to see if Gretchen needed any help. The temperature had dropped in the last hour. Dark clouds hovered on the horizon. A blue jay squawked in the redwood tree.