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

by Annie Adams

  "Didn't Fred say yesterday that he was going to meet someone about—Brock—wasn't it?"

  "Yes, he was going to meet Gordon Hawkes early this morning at the bird refuge to talk about an issue with an employee."

  "Who is Gordon Hawkes?" Alex asked.

  "He's the area manager at the wetlands. Fred is on the board of directors for the refuge and they know each other very well through the bird watchers group."

  "It seems kind of an odd time for a work meeting—early Sunday morning," Alex said.

  "That's what I thought, but he told me it was the only time old what's his name—Brett, Bart, Bobby, could get away from his fiancé."

  "You mean Brock," I said.

  "Yeah, that little cutie patootie who works with Gordon. Besides, they could do some primetime bird watching while they talked."

  "I'd schedule my appointments so that Brock Jensen could show up too," I said, waggling my eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  "Who is Brock Jensen?" Alex said.

  "He's the assistant manager to Gordon Hawkes,” K.C. said. “I don't know why, but Fred said they needed him to be there too. Something about a personnel issue is all he would tell me.

  “Anyway, while we're doing all this yapping we're not finding Fred. What am I going to do?" Her voice caught. I knew there was probably a perfectly normal reason K.C. couldn't locate Fred, but seeing her rattled left me frightened along with her.

  Alex put his arm around K.C.’s shoulders in a sideways hug. "I'm sure there's a logical explanation for him being gone. Don’t worry, we’ll find him."

  "Thank you, sweetie. You're a real gentleman, you know that?" Alex's face reddened just enough to be utterly charming.

  "K.C., why don't you try calling him one more time on all of his phone numbers, even his office. Then, drive over to his house and check again, just in case. Quincy and I will head down to the bird refuge and see if we can talk to anyone down there. Maybe some of his bird watching friends will still be there. He's probably looking through his binoculars, not realizing the time…searching for Boobies.”

  I gave him an exaggerated “Ha-ha,” and made a face.

  "Oh, thank you, Alex,” K.C. said. “If anyone finds him, we'll call each other so we can cancel the search party."

  I changed into some real clothes and quickly tended to my appearance while K.C. called all of Fred's numbers with no luck.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "So who is this Brock guy you two were going on about?" Alex asked as we drove to the bird refuge.

  "My, my, my, Mr. Cooper. I do believe it sounds as if someone is jealous."

  He grinned. "Merely collecting facts to help K.C., that's all.”

  “Brock Jensen is a very handsome and charming young man who is engaged to one of my brides. They met working at the bird refuge, which is kind of cute. He works for the wetlands and she’s a biologist.”

  “That is very cute,” Alex said in an exaggerated tone.

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “Anyway, the two of them came in for a wedding consultation with her mother, and let me tell you…I don't think there's any love lost between Brock and his future mother-in-law."

  "Is he as handsome and charming as say—your boyfriend?"

  "Which one?"

  “Hilarious,” he deadpanned. He reached over and rested his hand on my knee. "I am sorry, you know."

  "About?"

  "About Sam—and last night. I should have told you about her before we went to dinner. I didn't sleep much if that helps."

  "What, did you two stay up reminiscing?”

  “Very funny. As a matter of fact, I told her I had to beg off after dinner. I felt bad at the way you left and I thought I should go home.”

  “How did she take the news?"

  “She was disappointed."

  Poor girl.

  He didn’t have anything more to add to the conversation and I didn’t want to talk about her anymore, so I turned on the radio. His preset landed on a "new country" station. A strong female voice with a fake, overemphasized twang belted out a song about revenge on the woman who stole her man. Talk about art imitating life—or was it the other way around? In either case, it was a nasty reminder of what I was trying to forget.

  Alex bobbed his head to the rock beat that didn’t belong in the country song. I don’t know what annoyed me more—the obnoxious singer or the way Alex was oblivious to the lyrics. I snapped.

  "I give up," I said.

  "What do you mean?" Alex roused out of deep thought. Reminiscing about the night before, perhaps?

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  “Who?”

  “Oh come on!”

  “I told you, I went home after dinner."

  "I'm not talking about last night. I'm talking about ever."

  “We worked together. We were partners, for crying out loud."

  "You guys were too familiar with each other last night. That wasn't coworker physicality."

  "What the…you just made that up. That's not a thing, coworker physicality."

  "So you never ever exceeded the boundaries of a work relationship?"

  "No! Quincy, I told you—oh…”

  “Oh?”

  “I forgot this one time…”

  “You did.” He’d lied to me.

  “I—we did.” His voice was laced with what I thought sounded like regret. But I wasn’t sure exactly where the regret came from, whether it was that he remembered or that he had forgotten.

  “Oops, you forgot? As much as I’d like to be snarky here about how forgettable she must have been, I can’t. I don’t know what to say.”

  “We were drunk. Sloppy, stupid, drunk—at least I was. We were at some convention at a hotel and I had just gone through a bad break up.”

  My face was hot and my throat constricted so that I couldn’t swallow. You are not going to cry! “Wasn’t she your partner?”

  “No! I mean she was at one time, but by then she had long since moved to a different job, in a different city. It was a mistake. It was convenient—and stupid. Thoughtless.”

  “So you were at a convention like the one she's at now. Tell me, did she ask you to go back to the party with her last night?”

  “What does it matter? I didn’t.”

  “So, she asked you.”

  “I guess she did, but I said I was heading home and that was that. Listen, Quincy, I’m sorry. I’d pushed it out of my mind. It was a mistake to sleep with her. I knew her too well to even…think about it. I guess I didn't. Think, that is.”

  “You shouldn’t be apologizing for sleeping with someone before you met me.”

  “Then what are you so upset about?”

  I actually felt my nostrils flare as my teeth ground together.

  “Well, let’s see. Am I more angry that your not-ex-girlfriend was putting on the full court press when I saw the two of you last night and you acted like you barely knew me,” my hands moved around as I spoke, and became more frenzied the more worked up I got. I crossed my arms in front of me to contain them. “Or, am I mad that you went out last night with your not-ex-girlfriend and coworker who you have slept with in the past, but then lied to me about it?"

  "I think you mean whom,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t lie to you about anything. And I’m just trying to lighten things up. It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

  “This is a joke to you?”

  “No, babe, it isn’t. But we didn’t do anything wrong, so I still don’t see what you’re so upset about."

  "You didn’t tell me your old friend was a woman, for starters. Or that she’s a certain… kind of woman.”

  “I didn’t tell you about her because I knew you would get like this. For no reason. And besides, I invited you to come with us, and you said no.”

  “If I’d known who she was, I might have come. I could’ve slapped her paws away the first time she tried to put them on you.”

&n
bsp; “I would have loved to see that,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling up into an obnoxiously handsome grin.

  Ungh. Unbelievable.

  We arrived at the bird refuge then and no more words were exchanged. Fred’s car sat perfectly parked near the front entrance of the visitor center next to another car. Fred wasn’t inside.

  Neither of us spoke as Alex rolled the vehicle to a stop and we exited. The stillness of the refuge hung heavy in the air as soon as I stepped out of the Scout. I closed the door carefully, fearful of breaking the reverent silence. Alex seemed to feel the same stillness and quietly closed his door. He didn’t look at me before taking long strides to Fred’s car. He looked inside the windows, tried the handles, which were locked, and placed his hand on the hood. “Cold,” he said.

  Both of us walked toward the boardwalk that encircled a large portion of the marsh, but we didn't walk in tandem. I found myself a half-stride behind him. It wasn't intentional, but it felt more comfortable there.

  A wooden tower loomed in the distance. The three-story structure formed a look-out for viewers, much like the night watchman towers in prison movies, but it was open at all levels and a winding spiral walkway wrapped all the way around. Waist high panels prevented children or less than cautious adults from falling in to the reed-filled waters. The space above the panels was completely open allowing for bird spotting and breezes crossing the marsh to pass through. The top of the tower provided a completely unobscured view of the Great Salt Lake and its islands to the west, or the Wasatch Mountains to the east.

  After taking only a few steps on to the boardwalk, we emerged into a mythic new world. A world much like in fairy tales, where you felt as much a sense of fear as you did wonder and excitement.

  Either side of the walkway was flanked by reed grass topped with silken pompoms, cattails, thistle, and prehistoric equisetum. A small shred of fabric provided a small reminder of our modern world as it played on the breeze, anchored at one end to the barbs of a thistle.

  The grasses and reeds towered over the two of us, even over Alex at six foot four. The wooden slats we walked on looked to be less than a foot above the water in most places. I wondered how deep the water was, then tried to push away the thoughts of drowning.

  Even though neither of us spoke, we both walked toward the tower. It just seemed the logical thing to do. It also seemed quite logical that Fred probably just got distracted by observing the birds he so loved, and had lost track of time.

  The sun glimmered through Alex's golden hair and intensified the bronze in his skin. I so wanted to stop him and talk through everything that had just happened. We would work through this tough spot, he would have good reasons for deceiving me—which he would share—and we would move forward. I didn't look forward to the difficulty of all of it, but to the outcome—the feeling of balance restored.

  I looked at him without really looking at him during all of this introspection and as if he had read my thoughts, he stopped walking and turned toward me. Just like that, he’d flipped a switch. The "get the job done" cop exterior vanished and his features softened.

  "Quincy," he whispered and took my hands in his. "I hate feeling this way. I am truly sorry. Let's hurry up and find Fred so we can talk about this. Okay?"

  I nodded, then made the mistake of looking into his eyes. I had to let go of one of his hands to wipe the tears that came without warning. He gently moved my hand away then used his thumbs to clear the rest of the tears. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on top of my head. I felt like I could melt into him if only I pressed hard enough. The tears flowed for a few seconds more, but they were tears of relief. I buried them in the fabric of his shirt.

  We continued on to the tower and climbed the stairs encircling the outside of the structure until we reached the first viewing level. No Fred, just the remnants of a few owl pellets on the overhang of the ledge of the first safety fence. I looked up to see where the owls might have perched before leaving their leftovers and spotted something fluttering on the second level ceiling. I looked again. It was only a reflection of the sun, yet something would have to have been on the floor to cast a reflection on the ceiling.

  I nudged Alex to get his attention then pointed at the reflection. He watched it for only a moment then took off at a run up the stairs. I followed and noticed a rust colored smear next to a droplet of the same color on the landing.

  When we got to the next level, we found two men crumpled on the floor, one with blood drying on his head. Alex kneeled over him while I hurried over to the other man. A sick feeling rose to my throat, as I recognized the form on the tower floor. It was Fred. He lay on his side, groaning. His hands were tied behind his back and his ankles were bound with cloth.

  "Fred, are you alright?" What a stupid thing to ask. "Are you hurt?"

  He groaned then said in a hoarse whisper, "K.C."

  He must have had a head injury, he wasn't making sense.

  "Fred, I'm Quincy. K.C. isn't here. Are you hurt?"

  "No, K.C….please call her. She's hopping mad by now."

  He was making perfect sense. Now that Fred was alive, K.C. was going to kill him for not calling her.

  "Let me untie you,” I said. “Are you hurt anywhere?"

  "They hit me hard enough to knock me out, but Gordon needs help."

  I could hear that Alex had already called for medical help. He relayed Fred's condition after he told them about Gordon. I reached over Fred to untie his hands. He held a pair of glasses in his rusty-colored fingers.

  "Fred, are your hands cut?"

  "No, it's Gordon's blood. I got it on me when I rolled over and took his glasses off."

  We kept Fred and Gordon warm as best we could. I took Fred’s key fob and ran to retrieve blankets out of his trunk, being careful not to touch anything but the blankets. When I returned I could see Alex had covered the wound on Gordon’s head with the fabric that had bound his wrists.

  I retreated to the corner when the medical personnel arrived. I heard some of the conversation Fred had with the police before he was taken in the ambulance as a precaution. He told them that he and Gordon had met early that morning at the parking lot of the refuge.

  He said they had arranged to meet Brock Jensen at the tower to discuss some official business for the marsh. A few minutes after they arrived at the tower, Harold Busby showed up and he seemed really upset about something regarding the marsh and the board of directors. Gordon told him he would arrange to meet with him in a few days to talk about whatever it was he was so upset about and then Harold left.

  They had thought Brock wasn’t going to show, but he arrived about twenty minutes late. The men were all on the upper level, leaning on the railing and looking out over the marsh, when someone behind them told them not to move. Fred said he heard a click that sounded like it could have come from a gun. Suddenly, Brock, who was standing between Fred and Gordon, jerked backward, and Fred heard a man tell someone else to tie him and Gordon up. That’s the last thing Fred remembered.

  The walk back to the car along the planked boardwalk was eerie enough after finding Fred and Gordon, but a dense fog rolled in causing mental shivers as well as the real goose bumps on my skin.

  “What happened to Brock?” I asked.

  “We don’t know," Alex said. "Fred doesn’t remember anything after he heard the one male voice telling someone to tie them up. It could have been Brock he was talking to, or another person.”

  “Oh, we have to call K.C.! I’m sure she’s worried sick.”

  I spoke with K.C. on the phone while Alex drove me home. I told her not to come in to work the next day, but she told me I was “speaking nonsense,” and now that she knew Fred was okay, she was okay.

  Once we arrived at my house, Alex walked me to the back door and we agreed to talk later about our other issues that just didn’t seem so pressing any longer. It was a good time for us to take a break anyway—just for the day, of course.

  CHAPTER SIX />
  The crisp coolness of late September mornings hadn’t begun in full force yet, but the swift breezes and occasional flyovers by honking geese promised a change in the weather was just around the corner. I grabbed a jacket before I left for work Monday morning.

  After the trauma of finding Fred, I said a silent prayer of gratitude for my full and happy life. I reflected back to a mere few weeks before, when I could think of nothing but how I was going to keep the doors of my flower shop open. I wouldn’t be rich anytime soon, but I could meet payroll, pay for supplies, and keep the lights on. For now.

  "K.C., I'm always happy to see you, but what in the heck are you doing here?" I said as she came through the front door of the shop.

  "Now that I know where Fred is, and that he's okay, I'm glad to be here. It's a return to normal. And it helps keep my mind off of thinking about how bad it could have been. Besides, I think Fred's getting sick of me doting over him. His daughter is visiting with him now, so he'll be just fine."

  "How is Gordon doing?"

  "He's alright. He's a tough old buzzard. He’s still at the hospital though."

  "Do you think we'll need to make some changes to your wedding plan so that Gordon can attend? It's only a couple of weeks away."

  "No way, no how. We won't need to change a thing. Gordo will pull through and be right there standing up for Fred at the altar. I'm not going to let some dirt-bag, piece of trash disrupt my wedding plans or get away with hurting my future husband or his best man. Things will go just as planned and that's all there is to it."

  She put her cap and purse away in the back room. "What have we got on the docket for today, Boss?"

  "I was supposed to have another wedding appointment with Jenny McQueen and her mother and fiancé. But her fiancé went missing Sunday morning, so now I have no idea how to proceed. They can't very well have the wedding without the groom. Have you heard anything more about Brock?"

  "Not a thing. I was hoping you might have the low-down from Alex."

  "I haven't talked to him since he dropped me home after we found Fred."

  "Oh no! I knew I had interrupted something yesterday morning. I had hoped you two would get back to it once you got home."