How Does Your Garden Grow

by April Hill

  "And the women, Adam? "Beth groaned. "Did he tell you about any of the women?"

  Adam nodded his head sadly. "Yeah. He calls them his 'ladies.' He's apparently working his way through the alphabet, one flower at a time. He meets some of them in cemeteries. Pretends to be a widower and trolls for them, like he's fishing. He finds them at church, on the Internet. Wherever. He doesn't like hookers, but when his inventory started running short, he wasn't above…" He stopped, suddenly. "It's been going on for years, Beth."

  "So, he…" She paused for a moment, "he keeps them as…as souvenirs?"

  "No, your basement is more like a long-term storage solution for what he doesn't want—the bodies. Like nuclear waste. The inconvenient byproducts of his trophy-gathering."

  Beth closed her eyes. "And the trophies?"

  "Not mounted on the wall, but in those big concrete pots of his. I counted fourteen in the front yard, alone."

  "I resent that, Mr. McCann!" Kruger bellowed, appearing suddenly out of the tunnel. He was carrying a brown paper grocery sack and a coil of laundry line. "The word trophy implies a predatory motive, and I am a collector, not a predator. I have never molested one of my ladies, nor abused them in any way. My garden has in it a variety of herbs to ensure a quiet and painless demise. The necessary—shall we say, alterations—are completed when the lady has already slipped peacefully into the arms of Thanatos. Thanatos, for your information, Mr. McCann, was the Greek god of gentle and peaceful death."

  Adam yawned. "Thanks, professor. Just what I needed. Another boring, pedantic lecture from a psychopathic butcher."

  Kruger smiled. "You're trying to annoy me, Lieutenant McCann, hoping I'll get angry and become careless. The only times I ever lowered my standards by including a prostitute in my collection was when she had a particularly attractive name. Daffodil was one of the more delightful names. I certainly wasn't going to lose the opportunity to add a 'Daffodil' to my collection. Isn't it odd that a woman with such a lovely, fragile name would choose such a squalid profession? Let's see, now. I have an Amaryllis, and a Blossom. The name 'Blossom' was a bit generic for my taste, but she was the only 'B' I could find at the time. I've searched for years for a Begonia. There's a Camille somewhere about the house, and a Daisy, so I already had one 'D'. But I simply couldn't turn down a Daffodil, now, could I? No 'E's as yet, but I'm always on the lookout. Fern was quite easy, and you've even met Goldie, Mr. McCann—that day in my garden."

  Beth and Adam could only stare as Kruger continued, seemingly unaware of them, now.

  "Fred Lawrence's wife is a Ginger, of course, but that would seem a bit tacky and ungrateful, I think. I have a Holly, of course. For a few years, Hollies were a dime-a-dozen, and there's an adorable young Heather I have my eye on. A Jasmine, and a Lily, and just recently, I was able to acquire a Marigold. Rose was the easiest, as you can imagine. I had an excellent selection of Roses from which to choose. I found my Susan while on a vacation in the South, and like her namesake, she had the loveliest black eyes. Tulip was the most recent addition. As you can see, there are quite a few holes—if you'll pardon the pun—in my list, but I do have my eye on a Zinnia, when the time comes. I often remember Robert Herrick's lovely poem that goes, 'And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow will be dying.'

  "Well now," he said finally, "now that you know my story, I'm afraid it's time to get on with the unpleasant business of seeing that neither of you shares it with anyone else."

  "My lips are sealed," Adam said cheerfully, then turned to Beth. "What about you, babe?"

  Beth nodded. "Ditto. I simply detest gossip. It's a filthy habit."

  "Ah, yes, a sense of humor can be a great help in times of stress," Kruger said. "But as it happens, I have with me an even better remedy for avoiding stress—or pain." He pulled a lidded glass jar from the paper bag and set it on the ground at his feet. "I abhor violence, you know. It sickens me. Which is why I must ask both of you to drink this before I proceed to the next step."

  "No, thank you," Beth said. "I'm not really thirsty, and I've been trying to cut down on whatever that is. I've read that too many lethal chemicals can lead to erectile dysfunction. If I catch a bad case and sneeze or something, I might pass it on to someone else." She grinned at Adam. "Even someone I love."

  Adam nodded. "I'm with her. I'll pass on the refreshments."

  Kruger sighed. "I can't force you, of course. Mr. McCann is a good deal younger and stronger than I am, but I advise you both to reconsider. Shortly, this area will be flooded." He pointed down the tunnel. "The long pipe to which you are tied, Mr. McCann, taps into one of the city's water mains. It's six inches in diameter, and though I've forgotten precisely how many gallons of water can pass through it when the main valve is fully opened, I've been assured that it's enough to fill a swimming pool in a very short time.

  "I'm quite handy at most things, but the plumbing you see here required the expertise of a professional—a Mr. Ralph Schutz, who was employed by the City Water Department until he was discharged for some minor theft. When I broached the idea of redirecting a portion of the city's water supply for my personal use, he was amenable to the idea—for a fee, of course. A rather large fee, but in the end, it was well worth it."

  "You were had, Kruger," Adam interjected.

  "Yeah," Beth added. "Your pipes leak."

  Kruger shot them a look of pure malice, and then smiled. "Yes, I have come to realize that Mr.Schutz's work was a bit shoddy. Shortly after the project was finished, and the various valves and devices installed, he moved to Mexico. A few weeks later, poor Mr. Schutz had the misfortune to be drowned in his own bathtub. Poetic justice, wouldn't you agree? I can only hope that the man's dubious skills will prove adequate for today's 'trial run', as it were."

  At this point, Kruger heaved a melodramatic sigh. "I envisioned a trio of beautiful ornamental fountains, you see, to be placed in the exact center of my new, expanded garden. Fountains reminiscent of those lovely Moorish fountains in the flowering pavilions at Granada. Now, of course, none of them will ever be built, thanks to Mr. Schutz's sleazy work and Miss Walker's meddling. Now, do you have any questions?" he asked, smugly. "Before I set the final act in motion?"

  Beth turned to Adam. "Final act, huh? I guess that means we won't be getting married, after all."

  Adam grinned. "Sure we will. Next month. Let's say, the fifteenth. Keep the date open."

  In obvious disgust, Kruger stomped off into the tunnel. A few seconds later, water began to stream down the floor of the tunnel, snaking its way under them.

  "I think we've annoyed him again," Beth said, getting to her feet to avoid the icy water collecting under her rear end. "Are you sure you want to marry me? I'm not the world's best housekeeper."

  "I've noticed."

  "Won't it bother you, having such a messy wife?"

  He grinned. "We'll work on it. Some hands-on encouragement? A firm, helping hand in exactly the right place, at the right time?"

  "At least we know it's not genetic," she said. "You could eat off my mother's floors."

  Adam shook his head. "I've always thought eating off the floor was overrated."

  "You're just trying to make me feel better, aren't you?"

  "Is it working?"

  Beth sighed. "Not yet."

  Apparently having finished what he was doing in the tunnel, Kruger returned. He was still carrying the bag, but now, he was dragging behind him a low sledge with a pair of cinderblocks on it. He set the bag down again and withdrew the jar and the glasses, the black Taser—and finally—a large roll of silvery duct tape.

  "The do-it-yourselfer's friend," he explained, smiling. "Your last wish is about to be granted, Miss Walker. Like Romeo and Juliet, or Beatrice and Abelard—lovers united through all eternity—with duct tape."

  Beth swallowed hard. "Funny, I don't remember a mention of duct tape in Romeo and Juliet."

  When she looked down, the water had crept halfway up Adam's leg.

  Kruger k
nelt down, opened the jar very carefully, and filled a small juice glass with a greenish liquid the approximate color of Beth's decrepit Honda.

  "I'd like to offer the two of you one last chance to drink this," he said, pushing the first glass toward Beth. "It's virtually tasteless and has no ill effects, other than the desired one—a peaceful drifting into unconsciousness. As a man, myself, Lieutenant, I fully understand the masculine impulse to appear stoic, but I should think you would want to do everything in your power to spare Miss Walker the quite-disagreeable alternative, should she decline my offer."

  When neither Beth nor Adam responded, Kruger sighed. "Very well, then, but please understand that I have no further time to waste in trying to persuade you." He stood up and lifted the first of the cinderblocks from the wooden trolley. "Now, Miss Walker, if you'll be kind enough to lie down alongside the Lieutenant."

  Beth gave him the finger.

  "I dislike vulgarity in a woman," Kruger said. "Mother was a vulgar woman, and it often embarrassed me. In many ways, you know, all of what has happened was Mother's fault. She betrayed me. She suspected that I was paying attention to poor, elderly Mrs. Lawrence for insincere reasons and threatened to tell the dear woman bad things about me. Not that she was entirely wrong, of course. The woman did take advantage of my good nature by implying that she had left the house to me in her will, along with a good deal of money. She frequently told me that I would be handsomely rewarded for all my many kindnesses. In reality, the old bitch had no fortune at all and not even a will.

  "So I took Mother with me to Europe, assuming that the house was safely mine."

  "And she died there?" Beth asked.

  When he smiled, Beth felt a sudden chill. "Yes. And those last hours with her were the most enjoyable I ever spent in her company, although I doubt that she would have agreed."

  "I thought she was buried at the cemetery in Millberg."

  "Ah, so you know about that, as well. You should have checked a bit more carefully, Miss Walker. Kruger is quite a common name. But I did meet two of my ladies there. Fern was visiting her deceased husband, and Marigold had come to place flowers on her mother's grave. I found that charmingly prophetic."

  "So, where is your mother buried?" Beth persisted—and instantly regretted it.

  "My, but aren't you the nosy one, Miss Walker? Still, I do enjoy telling the story. It's quite a colorful one. Where is she buried, you ask? How shall I put this? Here and there? Hither and yon?

  Beth gulped.

  "It was partly because of Mother that I was detained so long abroad—while I found an adequate number of…depositories for her. Since she hadn't succumbed in a manner that allowed me to obtain the proper documentation, I was forced to leave her behind. A shame, really. I would have enjoyed having her as part of my collection. Mother's given name was Violet, you know. It's odd, how little the authorities care what you take out of the country. It's what you bring back, or don't bring back that seems to upset them. By fortunate coincidence, I met an older woman by the name of Miss Ivy Cox, who was eager to get to this country by any means necessary, and it was she who accompanied me back to the United States, using Mother's passport. They looked remarkably alike, actually."

  "And afterward, this Miss Cox went back to England?" Beth inquired, hopefully.

  "Oh, she's still with me, Miss Walker. I couldn't have it any other way, now could I? You've probably seen her, Lieutenant. That large brass planter in the entranceway? It's the perfect spot for English ivy, with the morning sun, and all."

  With his story finished, Kruger picked up one of the cinder blocks, again, and a length of rope. As he approached Beth, he withdrew the Taser from its leather holster.

  "If you lie still, Miss Walker, this will only take a moment or two, but if you try to kick me, or anything of that nature…well, I think I've it made it clear how greatly that would displease me."

  He bent down and dragged the cinderblock closer to Beth's feet. Suddenly, Adam rolled hard to his right, directly into Kruger. As his knees buckled under him, Kruger dropped the cinderblock and fell sideways into the rapidly rising water, screaming in pain.

  "Run, Beth!" Adam shouted.

  Beth hesitated. The Taser had bounced out of Kruger's hand when he fell, and now lay in the mud, several feet away. When she moved toward it, though, Kruger's hand shot out, clawing at her ankle.

  "Get the hell out of here! "Adam ordered. "Now!"

  With one helpless glance behind her, Beth stumbled backward into the flooding tunnel, toward her own basement. The distance was longer, but going the other way would have put her back within Kruger's reach. The tunnel was narrow and not quite high enough to stand up. Bent over, with her knees tied together and the cast taking on water, progress was painful and slow, but she could still hear Kruger trashing around in the mud. With any luck, she thought, the sonofabitch has a broken bone or two. At the end of the tunnel, she could just make out the jagged doorway that Adam had torn through the wall and a glimpse into her own dingy basement. If she could just get there...

  Somewhere, water was flowing, and a quick glance at her feet showed that she was walking—or waddling in—at least eight inches of muddy water. Kruger had already opened a valve somewhere. She tried to move faster, fighting the maddeningly strong current that had begun to swirl around her feet. It was dark, but she knew that he couldn't be far behind, his progress also hindered by his injury and the deepening water. The opening to her basement was only a few yards away when she staggered suddenly against the tunnel wall, driven there by a torrent of cold water that seemed to be gushing up from the floor. The water smashed into her lower legs with the force of an open fire hydrant, almost knocking her off her feet. Clawing wildly at the wall for support, her left knee brushed up against something hard—something metal. With her back against the tunnel wall, she scrabbled at the surface with raw, chilled fingers until she located the object, then grabbed onto it as firmly as she could with two sets of fingers that were already numb with cold.

  Too dazed at first to know what she was clinging to, she simply held on, hoping that Kruger was having as much trouble as she was with the sudden rush of icy water. An instant later, it hit her. The object she was clutching was metal, and round, and…the main valve! It had to be! That's what the bastard had been doing when he went back into the tunnel! With her hands trembling and her strength fading rapidly, she tried to turn the wheel with her stiff fingers—and failed. On the second try, the valve seemed to budge, but not enough to help. The rush of water under her feet was just as strong, and getting deeper by the second. Adam was going to drown!

  And then, slowly, inch by painful inch, the wheel began to move, and with every inch it moved, the whirlpool dwindled—or seemed to. Seconds later, though, her arms shaking from the strain and her bound wrists scratched and bleeding, Beth glanced up and saw Kruger appear out of the darkness. He had obviously fallen again, and looked like a drowned rat, limping badly and holding his knee with a bloody hand. Adam had done more damage than she thought. Even through her terror, she nearly smiled at the irony. The battle was finally getting a little less one-sided. She took one deep breath and lunged forward with the last of her ebbing strength, hurling herself toward the open doorway, where the water was just beginning to creep across the threshold into her basement.

  Kruger's bloody hands clamped down on her shoulders.

  He dragged her by one arm into the basement and dropped her on the wet concrete. Beth lay on the filthy floor in the darkness and began to weep with fear and exhaustion, and when Kruger knelt beside her and forced another tablet down her throat, she gagged once, but finally swallowed it, too tired and bruised and cold to put up a serious fight. She was going to die. That much was certain. All that mattered now was that Adam was still in the flooded tunnel, somewhere, and she would die without knowing if she had managed to close the valve in time to help him.

  * * * * *

  When she half-woke again, Kruger had retied her, including her
ankles this time. The last pill hadn't had the effect he had hoped for, though, because she was still alive and at least vaguely aware of her surroundings. She was back in her own damp basement again, and a candle was burning somewhere. It was too dark to see much else, but she could hear him working on something nearby and swearing as he worked. He appeared suddenly, towering over her in the gloom.

  "I'm sure you're very pleased with yourself, Miss Walker. You were able to close the main valve, weren't you?" Without waiting for an answer, he smiled and went on. "I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that I opened it again. All you succeed in doing was slowing things down a bit. By now, the Lieutenant is most likely in over his head, as they say. I could have gone back and hurried the process up, to make his exit somewhat more humane, but after he broke my ankle so painfully, I'm rather enjoying picturing him gasping for breath and straining to keep his head above water as the water rises up, up, and…well, I'm sure you know what I mean."

  Beth closed her eyes and tried not to start crying again—with relief, this time. She hadn't been sure, fumbling in the dark, with her hands tied behind her, but she'd apparently succeeded. Somehow, probably by dumb luck, she'd managed to close the largest valve in the tunnel. What she didn't want to think about was if she'd done it well enough—or in time.

  "I know what you're thinking, Miss Walker, but it's far too soon to begin celebrating," he said, smugly. "I can still hear water flowing into my tunnel from somewhere, and since the other end of the tunnel is far lower than this end, and the steel door safely closed …well, by now, my dear, I think we can safely assume that your handsome Lieutenant is no longer a problem for me." He sighed. "You, on the other hand, have caused me a great deal of trouble."

  Beth had been too frightened by what he had said about Adam to make any reply, but now her temper flared. "I don't care about your fucking problems!" she shrieked. "Whatever happens to us, you're still going to get caught and rot in prison for the rest of your stinking life!"