Deadly Arrangements (Book Two in the Cozy Flower Shop Mystery Series) (The Flower Shop Mystery Series)

by Annie Adams

  He didn't respond. He seemed distracted by the effects of a certain blue dress. Or was it the places on her where the dress didn’t cover?

  "Did he have that sexy goatee when you knew him?" K.C. asked and then winked at Alex.

  Samantha reached across the table and put her hand on Alex's forearm as she spoke. "No, he didn't, but I think it's a great addition to perfection. You had much shorter hair then too. I think I like it shorter."

  I thought I might puke. Alex made a show of waving away her compliments, yet I noticed he didn't move his arm too quickly until he glanced over at me.

  "Oh, Quincy, before I forget, your mom called me looking for you,” Alex said. “I told her I would pass the message along." Cue the record-scratching sound. As if this restaurant situation wasn't humiliating enough, my mother had ensured that I could now die from embarrassment.

  "That's so sweet," Samantha said as she placed a hand over one of her ample bosoms—making sure to keep Alex’s attention and his eyes on the merchandise. "A mother that checks up on her daughter like that. I can't imagine my own mother ever calling my guy friend to get a hold of me."

  Guy friend?

  "I guess I left my phone on my kitchen counter. I'm sure there must be some emergency, she wouldn’t call for no reason.” Anyone who knew my mother would know I was lying. “She probably just assumed since Alex just got back into town, and came looking for me at the dress shop earlier today, that he would be spending the evening with me."

  Point for Quincy.

  K.C. put her hand in the middle of the table. "Uh—how long will you be visiting, Sam?" K.C.’s attempts to steer the mood or the conversation were futile.

  "A few days. The conference only goes through tomorrow afternoon, but I think I'll stick around and see the sights." She looked at Alex and winked.

  “Oww,” K.C. said. I hadn’t realized the vice-like grip I’d had on her forearm.

  "This has been so great,” I lied, “but I’m feeling kind of ill. It was a pleasure meeting you, Sam. Goodbye, Alex." And I meant goodbye.

  “Quincy…” Alex said.

  “No, no, don’t get up. We’ve got to get out of here—to plan a wedding—right K.C.?”

  My eyes were welling up and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop the flow of tears once they started, and I couldn’t let the she-wolf have the satisfaction of seeing them. I calmly walked to the lobby. Once out of Samantha’s sight, I rushed outside as fast as I could, hoping K.C. would come along too.

  The ride home was long and quiet. K.C. had none of the usual words of wisdom to impart.

  "Well, didn't you say he invited you to go with them for dinner?" she finally said.

  "Yes, but people never mean it when they make those kinds of invitations. He was just being polite. I mean, did you see the way she was dressed? Tell me she was dressed for just meeting with an old work buddy. Please. Makes me wonder what kind of work they were doing."

  "Are you absolutely sure he didn't mention she was a female co-worker?"

  "He told me his old friend Sam was in town and that they had worked together in California."

  "So, in actuality, he never told you his co-worker was a man. You jumped to that conclusion."

  "Well yes, but obviously it was more than a co-worker type of relationship. You saw the way she pawed at him…and the way that he…let her." My throat seemed to be closing off. It physically hurt to swallow and my chest ached.

  "Now hold on just a minute. Alex seemed pretty shell-shocked at that table. Maybe he was just frozen like a poor little rabbit cornered by a bobcat. Maybe he just didn't think. They don't think about things. Men, that is. Well, at least they don't think with their noggins most of the time. They think with their little…"

  "So not helping, K.C."

  "Right. You can't let this eat you up inside. You've got to talk to Alex and get his side of the story. It's only fair."

  K.C. dropped me off at home and I got ready for bed. I found my cell phone where I had left it. The light blinked indicating I had voicemail.

  He better have left me a message. But I was so mad at him, I didn’t know if I wanted to listen right away. I scrolled through and saw that my mother had called several times. I thought I should listen to at least one of her messages now that she’d made me look like a junior high girl at the high school senior’s party, whose mommy shows up with her forgotten retainer.

  "Quincy, please call me. It's an emergency." Oh no. Even with all the guilt-laying and exaggerating tactics my mother used in her usual messages, this sounded like a real emergency. My heart raced and I couldn't get the messages to play fast enough. Another message said, "Quincy, I wish you would answer your phone. It's an emergency. It's your father." Oh no, oh no. Once again, tears welled up in the corners of my eyes. "He…" she sighed and paused for a painfully long time. "He called me, Quincy. He says he wants to come home."

  Oh boy.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  My father had gone on tour with his bluegrass band, "The Salt Flat Lickers," at the same time I had moved away from home. Either the tour never ended or my father just never came back from the last gig. I didn't have a lot of contact with my family then because of the serious issues I had with my wife-beating husband.

  After I returned to Hillside, I only brought up the subject of my father once. My mom refused to talk about it, so I never brought it up again. I realized I had been awfully self-centered since I had come back, worrying about the flower shop and my lack of a personal life. Given my mother's tendencies to—what would one call it, annoy?—it had been easy to avoid trying to talk about my dad and how hurt my mother must have been.

  And how about my father? I had lost contact with him completely. My marriage had been only one of the many subjects he and my mother had disagreed upon. And after learning the hard way, I understood why my father had been completely against my marriage.

  Even though it was late, I called my mom. After several rings her message picked up. Maybe there wasn't such an emergency after all. Maybe she’d gone to bed, although knowing what a worrier she was, I didn't think she would be getting much sleep.

  ***

  I awoke to the sound of the phone ringing and contemplated not answering. Angry thoughts of Alex and Samantha and the awful scene at the restaurant had kept me up most of the night. But I answered in case it was my mother.

  "Hello," my voice creaked out.

  "Good morning, beautiful."

  "Alex?"

  "Should I know about any other guys who call you that?"

  "I don't know. Are there any other previous co-workers I should know about?"

  "My, my, my, are you jealous, Ms. McKay?"

  "Who, me? What would I have to be jealous about?"

  "How about I come in and talk to you about it?”

  "Where are you?"

  "I'm in your driveway. I have breakfast."

  Bribery, I thought. But it was food bribery. At least I could let him in for that. I ran into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. "Oh!" My hair was sticking out at odd angles, and a pimple had appeared next to my nose. No time to fix it now. Nor the makeup smeared around my eyes. I pulled up my striped tube socks and made sure my Star Wars t-shirt wasn't tucked into the back of my cutoff sweatpants.

  Alex looked his usual sexy self in worn-out jeans and a t-shirt that fit just right over lots of hard-earned muscles. He still had the goatee and it looked fantastic. And really, what wouldn’t look great on him? But Samantha had overtly talked about how much she loved it the night before. So it had to go.

  “Are you feeling any better this morning?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You left because you weren’t feeling well, remember?”

  “Oh. That's right. I was feeling pretty sickened last night.”

  He pulled a frilly pink calico apron out of the drawer next to the sink and put it on, then placed a pan on the stove. He came over and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him. “Don’t
be mad at me, Q. What exactly did I do wrong, anyway?”

  “Well, first, I feel like I’m supposed to be turned on by my Aunt Rosie right now, since you are wearing her apron. Which is so wrong. And second, I will be mad at you as long as you have that incredibly hot-looking thing on your face.”

  “C’mon, if it’s so hot, why should I get rid of it?”

  “Because your old girlfriend thinks it’s a ‘Great addition to perfection,’” I made air quotes and spoke in a mockery of Samantha’s voice.

  “She’s not my girlfriend, Quincy.”

  “No. She’s not. And apparently no one else is either. Sam had never heard of me before I got to the table.”

  “Yes she had. She was just kidding around—I had been talking about you all night.”

  Yeah, she’s a real jokester, that one.

  “I told you, we used to be co-workers. She’s in town for a conference. That’s all.” He kissed my forehead then went back to the stove to start some bacon. I supposed he was right. If she was just a co-worker, why would he have any reason to tell me her gender? We were both adults. Maybe it was a coincidence she looked like me?

  And probably she dressed like a slut all of the time.

  “Okay, so she’s just a former co-worker, but she sure is a hands-on kind of gal.”

  “Who could keep their hands off of this?” he asked as he fluffed the shoulder ruffles on the apron.

  “I could, unless that apron didn’t have a t-shirt under it.” Did I say that out loud? I was still supposed to be mad at him, wasn’t I?

  He put a pitcher of juice on the table and pulled me into him again. “As long as you’re wearing those socks at the same time.” His hand slid slowly, all the way down from my waist to the back of my knee, then he bent my leg and pulled it up to rest on his hip.

  This was not how I pictured our first—encounter. Me with raccoon eyes and him wearing my aunt’s apron. I couldn’t do it. Not like this. I at least needed to comb my hair, and maybe change out of my cut-off sweatpants.

  “The bacon!” I shouted. Smoke was pouring off the pan. Alex jumped over to deal with it. Ahh, sweet bacon to the rescue—both tasty and heroic at the same time. “I’ll be right back.”

  This was my chance to run to the bathroom and tidy up. The phone rang just as I passed it in the kitchen. The caller ID said it was my sister, Allie, and I thought she might have news about our mother.

  “Have you heard from Mom yet this morning?” she said.

  “Um, no I meant to call her but I…” but I was prepping to get it on with my boyfriend and hadn’t had time to call her yet.

  “I talked to her on the phone yesterday, but I haven’t heard back from her today, which is weird. So, I don't know if I should be worried or not. This is my weekend to stay over with Mimi, so I haven’t been home.” Mimi was an elderly neighbor who needed someone to stay with her at nights. Allie and my mother rotated weekends staying at Mimi’s house. “Anyway, I’m substitute teaching in Sunday school today and I’ve got to run, so I wondered if you could call and check up on her.”

  This was unusual behavior for our everything-just-so mother. “Okay, I’ll call her right now.” Best to get the call out of the way so I wouldn't be interrupted by Allie, my mom, or guilt for letting down all of the above, later on.

  I looked down at my outfit and back at Alex. If I didn’t change out of my sweatshorts, I could still brush my hair and wipe the makeup from under my eyes while I talked to my mom on the phone. I would just have to cut the conversation short.

  “Is everything okay?” Alex asked.

  “Oh, it’s great, I—just need to make a quick call to my mom. Allie and I are kind of worried about her. I’ll just be a second.”

  “I’ll be right here,” he said.

  I dialed the phone and ran to the bathroom. I grabbed a bottle of Visine and dabbed some on my zit. I’d heard somewhere that it shrinks them down. After several phone rings I assumed mom just wasn’t picking up. I would leave a message telling her I’d come and see her later.

  “Hello.” A sleepy male voiced answered.

  “Dad?”

  “Quincy girl, is that you?”

  “Yeah, what are you—you’re back.”

  “Got in late last night. Oh boy, I can’t wait to see you and your sisters.”

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s sleeping in. We were up pretty late. She’s still got it, your mother.”

  “Dad! Are you—did you two—blegh, never mind. I don’t want to hear." An involuntary shudder passed through my body. Apparently I was right about my mom not getting any sleep the night before, but not for the reason I thought.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You’ve been gone all this time and now it’s back to ‘nothing wrong, business as usual?’”

  “Listen, honey, your mom and I have had our differences, but deep down we still love each other. We’ve been talking on the phone for a couple of months now and we missed each other—a lot.” Oh, geez, did he mean....?

  A mental picture popped into my brain and it was not good. Thinking of your parents having sex is like imagining yourself wading in a swimming pool full of squid parts. It’s like when you keep your eyes open in the gory scenes of a horror movie. No amount of mental scrubbing will remove those disturbing pictures from your mind.

  “Dad, I’ve got to go. Tell Mom I’ll call her later.”

  “Bye, favorite girl.” He called each of us that when the others weren't listening.

  I hung up the phone and shivered with the willies. I went back to the kitchen without washing my face or brushing my hair. I looked up to see Alex, sitting at the table, grinning and wearing Aunt Rosie’s apron…and nothing else.

  ***

  My teeth found my bottom lip while I beheld the sight in front of me. I took a step toward him. My pulse pounded throughout my body and I had to remind myself to breathe.

  Bam! Bam, bam, bam, bam, sounded on the back kitchen door. I tasted blood from where my teeth had pierced my bottom lip.

  “Boss! Are you there?” K.C. bellowed from the back stairwell.

  I heard a groan of frustration coming from the direction of the pink apron.

  I held up my hands in defeat. “What should I do?” I whispered.

  “Ignore it. She’ll come back later,” he whispered back.

  “Boss, it’s an emergency. I can’t find Fred anywhere.”

  Anyone in the world would have understood Alex’s sigh about our unfulfilled moment without need of translation. “Give me a second to get dressed.” He picked up his bundle of previously discarded clothes and carried them in front of his…midsection. I caught a peek of gorgeous gluteals adorned only with ribbon tails that dangled oh so tantalizingly betwixt tight mounds of perfection as they left the room.

  I staggered at the sight and leaned on the doorknob for a moment to regain my bearings.

  Bam, bam, bam, awoke me from my daydream.

  "Just a second K.C.," I called through the door. "I was just getting dressed."

  I paused a beat longer and then opened the door.

  "This is what took you so long?"

  I glanced down at Han Solo and sighed. "You said there was an emergency?"

  K.C. pushed past me and walked into the kitchen. "I haven't heard from Fred since we left him last night."

  Alex finished pulling his t-shirt down over his bare chest as he entered the room.

  "Oh, Alex! I noticed your truck outside but I—were you two…?" She tugged at her own shirt tails, subconsciously mirroring Alex. She turned to look at me and grimaced. "Was I interrupting—something?"

  "No!" We both said in unison, with far too much volume.

  "You weren't interrupting anything." The frustration practically oozed out of his pores. "What's wrong K.C.?" His tone had softened.

  "I can't get a hold of Fred. The last time we talked was yesterday after the Booby lecture."

  Alex's eyebrow shot up and his mouth curled
into a smirk. I could see the wheels in his mind turning. "I'm sorry the…did you say…what kind of lecture did you two go to?"

  "It's a bird," I said.

  He tried to look at me through glazed-over eyes.

  "The Booby—it's a bird."

  "Oh." His face relaxed. Given our recent interruption, I was sorry to ruin his fun. I could only imagine what images were conjured when he thought it was a booby lecture of another kind.

  "Sorry, K.C., we interrupted you."

  "Oh, yes…well, before Quincy and I left for Salt Lake, I told him I would call when I got home. Of course I did just that, but he never answered. I tried all night and figured he must have zonked out or something. We were supposed to meet for our regular breakfast and bed, but he never came over and he's still not answering his phone."

  Alex looked at me with a puzzled expression. "I'm confused. You were supposed to meet Fred at a bed and breakfast?"

  I mouthed the word "no" and waived at Alex out of K.C.'s line of vision. But I was too late. I braced myself for the forthcoming explanation and all the unsolicited details. I wondered with a great deal of sympathy, which of those details she would share with Alex.

  "No, we spend Sunday mornings together; just like you two lovebirds were, until I barged in. Sorry about that." The embarrassment made it difficult to meet Alex's gaze, but once I did he winked at me and I noticed the crinkles around his eyes had returned. "But Fred is missing and we need to find him. Can you two help me?"

  "Are you sure he isn't just sleeping in?" Alex asked.

  "I'm sure. He would never miss our Sunday School sessions."

  Alex's face reddened. "I'm sure you're right about that." A vicious frog seemed to have taken residence in his throat. "Ahem, mhh—have you been to his house?"

  She had been to his house and his car wasn't there. It was too early to get the police involved yet, as Fred hadn't been missing long. It just didn't seem quite right for Fred to disappear without word. He and K.C. had spent every possible moment together since the night of the gala when they met.