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

by Annie Adams

  Ergh. "Um—thanks for that, but some things actually came up on the drive to the refuge…but, it's fine. We're fine. We're going out tonight and I'll talk to him then."

  K.C. looked up at the ceiling, "If you say so."

  "What?"

  "You sound like you're trying to convince someone of something, kiddo. I don't need convincing that you two are hunky-dory. So, who were you really trying to convince just now?" She looked over the top of her red, cat-eye glasses at me.

  I shook my head. "You've got it all wrong. We're…we've got a lot of work to get to today. We should get started."

  "Uh-huh."

  Thankfully the phone interrupted.

  K.C. gathered order slips for the day's deliveries while I took a new order over the phone.

  "Sally VanBuren wants a fall arrangement like the one on the cover of Best Homes Magazine." I looked up the cover on the computer and found a picture of an arrangement composed of cattails and various natural grasses and reeds.

  "You know where we could find a lot of those grasses?" K.C. said.

  "Don't say it."

  "Why not?"

  "Why would you want to go down to the place where Fred and the others were attacked? And besides, it's still a crime scene."

  "We don't have to go onto the tower. I just want to go down there and see what it was like for poor Fred. And I can check in at the visitor center and make sure they've got everything ready to go for the ceremony while you take some cuttings."

  "I don't know, K.C. Can't we get in trouble for cutting plants out of a preserve? Isn't it protected land or something?"

  "We'll just get them from the ditch banks on Clint Wheeler's property, right next to the refuge."

  "Won't we get in trouble for cutting things from his property?"

  "I'm sure we won't, but if you want to be Miss Goody Two Shoes, you can go knock on the barn door and ask his permission. He won't care."

  "I'll think about it. The arrangement is going in a terra cotta planter on her porch, so it’ll be big. We’ll need lots of different kinds of stuff to fill it. I guess we could plan to go take some cuttings sometime soon."

  I prepared arrangements for delivery while K.C. began cleaning out the walk-in cooler. She wore a bright yellow apron with a black smiley face logo on the front, and she whistled as she brought all the buckets out of the cooler. When I finished with the arrangements, I helped her with the cooler job, which required cleaning from ceiling to floor and in every nook and cranny with a mixture of bleach and water.

  K.C. left me to finish the ceiling, since I could reach it more easily, and she went into the back room to tackle the tower of dirty buckets. The bleach fumes were almost overwhelming, so I had to leave the door hanging wide open for enough air circulation. As K.C. passed, she bumped the door enough to latch it.

  There’s no way she would have known about my little phobia about being trapped inside the cooler. I tried to remain calm. I knew full-well that the release latch was put inside the door for a reason. This is knowledge I didn’t have when my cousin Tyson locked me inside of the same cooler when we were six years old.

  I didn't want to look like a wimp by busting out of the cooler like a caged beast breaking free from captivity, so I calmly walked over to the door and gently pushed the plunger.

  And nothing happened.

  I pushed again, more forcefully, and nothing gave. I pounded on the door and K.C. opened it right away.

  "We have to get that fixed. Now."

  "Are you okay, Boss? You look a little pale."

  "I have a thing about getting stuck in the cooler. Until we get it fixed, we can't close the door while someone is in there. Ever."

  "Okey-dokey. Would you like me to take over for you? You seem pretty spooked."

  "No, I'm fine. Sorry to get all dramatic. I'll finish up in here if you'll finish the buckets, and then we need to put together the roses for Kyle Mangum's wife."

  We continued with our respective jobs, and I made sure to keep the cooler door wide open.

  Hands above my head, I wiped the ceiling with a rag drenched in bleach water, dodging the droplets that flicked off with every swipe. I worked my way backwards so I could finish at the doorway. A big droplet splashed on my cheek and into my eye and stung like crazy. The bleach smell was smeared all over my face and I started to gag. I headed toward the door, using memory and groping to find my way toward the restroom. As I stepped out, I smelled something new and familiar. I forced my eyes open. “Geez!”

  My nose rested about three inches away from the heavily penciled arch of Jacqueline DeMechante’s right eyebrow.

  “Jacqueline, you startled me. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.” Just how long had she been standing in the doorway staring at me with those freakish shark eyes?

  “Apology accepted,” she said. “I’m here for my appointment and since no one greeted me at the counter, I thought I would just come and find you.”

  “Everything all right in here?” K.C. called out before she came in from the back room.

  “We’re just fine. I must not have heard the doorbell,” I said, more for Jacqueline’s benefit than K.C.’s. “Jacqueline, this is K.C., our delivery driver.” I turned to K.C. “We’re doing the wedding flowers for Jacqueline’s daughter, Jenny, and her fiancé, Brock.”

  “Oh, yes…about Brock, he and Jenny won’t be able to join us for today’s appointment.” She closed her heavily shaded eyelids. “They’re otherwise engaged.”

  I looked at K.C. whose mouth hung open, mirroring my stunned expression.

  “Have they found—Brock, then?” K.C. asked.

  “No, he hasn’t returned yet. He’s a very…unreliable young man. I suppose he’ll turn up soon. But that isn’t my concern. I need to nail down these wedding plans.”

  “Excuse me, Jacqueline, if I’m not understanding correctly, but wasn’t Brock kidnapped? We can reschedule the flowers for whenever the wedding happens. Whenever he’s safely home,” I said.

  “My daughter’s wedding will happen in twenty six days, and that’s what I’m here about today. Shall we get started?” She turned and walked toward the consultation table at the front of the room.

  K.C. swirled her index finger next to her temple and mouthed the word “cuckoo,” then returned to the back work room.

  Jacqueline and I went over the wedding contract one more time, and just as we had on her three previous visits, we ended up visiting the ribbon racks in the middle of the shop. The racks were similar to bookshelves filling one wall, except instead of flat wooden shelves, there were quarter inch dowels holding up rows and rows of colorful ribbon. The ribbon bolts ranged in size from fifteen to a hundred yards and the styles varied from sheer to double faced satin to lace and picot trimmed from the eighties when Aunt Rosie ran the shop. There were rolls of jute twine, grosgrain, and even two inch wide ric-rac.

  K.C. rejoined us as we perused the blue-green family of ribbon. Jacqueline reached to unravel yet another roll, of which she had no intention of using in the wedding, and her large gold bracelet snagged on one of the strands she had left unfurled.

  "That's quite a piece of hardware you've got there," K.C. said. "What is that on your bracelet—a beetle?"

  Jacqueline's eyes closed and she straightened her shoulders, seemingly gathering herself against the indignation she suffered as a result of K.C.'s remark.

  She turned, slowly, toward K.C., eyes still dramatically closed. "This—" she placed the bracelet on her heart, her arms crossed in an “X” on her chest like a mummy, and flashed her eyes open, "is a gold enshrined scarab. Earthly representation of Khepri, The Morning Sun."

  "Oh, and here I thought it was just a beetle on a bangle," K.C. said, ironing her lips into a tight line.

  "Um…did you get that beautiful bracelet in your travels to Egypt?" I asked. No need to start a fight over a beetle bracelet.

  "Yes," Jacqueline said, then closed her eyes again while a smile spread across her face. "I
only wish I could return.” The smile disappeared. “But, there’s a wedding to get out of the way before that will happen."

  I turned to K.C. "Ms. DeMechante is an Egypt enthusiast. Isn't that right, Jacqueline?"

  She sighed heavily. "Yes, speaking of which, I've got work to do. I'll take the dark Lapis and the Nile, Quincy. That is all."

  "Those are beautiful choices, Jacqueline. You'll let us know if there are any changes in the plan…I'm sure."

  "Hmm? Oh, back to work, yes—Lapis and Nile, those are my color choices."

  I looked sideways at K.C. and shrugged. "O—kay, we'll talk to you soon then, Jacqueline."

  "Mmm-hmm. Adieu, ladies."

  K.C. and I exchanged confused glances as Jacqueline left the store. "What in thee hell is wrong with that woman?" K.C. said.

  "I don't know. She must be in shock. She's been stressed out with the wedding and Brock's kidnapping has probably pushed her over the edge. I'll call my wholesalers today and tell them what's happened. I think there's just enough time that we can cancel the flower order. Surely a kidnapping will be enough to sway them my way, even though I’m officially past the cancellation deadline."

  She wrinkled up her nose and waived her hand in front of her face. "Phew. I hope so. That would be a big bag to be left holding. Sheesh, she left the gift in our air that won’t quit giving. That perfume is awful." We both worked on re-rolling the chaos of all the ribbons Jacqueline had left in her wake. "So what's with the colors she's talking about? It seems I've heard them mentioned a thousand times already. Did she change them?"

  "Oh no, it's been dark Lapis and Nile from the start. And she has made it clear I am not to confuse those colors with teal of any kind."

  "So what color is dark Lapis?"

  "Teal."

  "How about Nile?"

  I looked at her pointedly.

  "Don't tell me," she said.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  "Teal?"

  I touched my index finger to my nose.

  K.C. shook her head and chuckled. "That woman is one piece of work. She wears a dead dung beetle on her wrist, for crying out loud."

  "So that's what a scarab is? How did you know that?"

  "I've studied a few things in my day. I may not be an Egyptologist, but I know a thing or two about a ball of dung being pushed around by a bug. I've studied lots of bugs, actually. I just don't dip them in gold and wear them as jewelry."

  "You're fascinating, K.C. You know that?"

  She pushed at her page-boy blond haircut. "I do try."

  We finished cleaning and K.C. carried the dozen yellow rose arrangement to the delivery staging area near the back door.

  "So what's the deal with this delivery for the Mangums?" K.C. said.

  "I did the wedding flowers for Kyle and his wife. He came in later and ordered a monthly delivery of a dozen yellow roses on the date of their anniversary," I said.

  "Oh, so you've seen the wife then?"

  I paused to think. "You know—that's interesting. I haven't ever seen her."

  "But you said you did their wedding flowers."

  "I did, but Kyle came in one day and said it was a second wedding for both of them, so they were just having a small ceremony. She couldn't come to the shop for some reason, so he just ordered a bouquet of yellow roses for her and a boutonnière for himself. He said those were her favorite."

  "Huh," she said.

  "Why do you ask?"

  "I'm just being nosy, I guess. I've only delivered there twice, but I’ve never really seen her.”

  “Do you just leave the flowers on the door step?”

  K.C. picked up the delivery slips and the van keys. “No, she comes to the door…let me hold that thought, I left the delivery log in the van.” She went out the back door and then returned a few moments later. “Boy, it’s still so hot out there. I’d better get the AC running before I take these flowers outside.”

  “So you were telling me about Mrs. Mangum…” I said.

  “Oh, yes. Both times I’ve delivered to her, she barely opens the door just wide enough to fit the arrangement through.” She held up one of the delivery bouquets in front of her face and peeked around the side of it. “Like this. And then, I don’t know what kind of work she does, but both times, she was wearing latex gloves and goggles and a bandana over her hair. I couldn’t get a good look at her.”

  The phone rang and interrupted our conversation.

  "Rosie's Posies, how can I help you?" I answered.

  "Where is our blushing bride?" said a familiar voice.

  "Danny, how are you?"

  "The question is how are you? And how is our officer of the law?"

  “Oh, he’s fine.”

  “Well, I know how he looks, sweetie. I’m just wondering how y’all are doing?”

  "Ha ha, let me get K.C. for you."

  I overheard K.C. going over Fred's story with Danny and her protestations about postponing the wedding.

  After she returned from the delivery, I convinced K.C. to leave early and go visit Fred. When she finally admitted how anxious she was to see him, it reminded me about my plans with Alex for that evening. The last time we spoke, he was dropping me home after the awful experience at the bird refuge. Before that, we were on our way to—well who knows?

  Something fluttered up in my stomach, but it became more of a banging around that came up into my chest. I wouldn't describe it as butterflies—it was more like wacked out birds. The Inland False Booby, perhaps?

  Instead of figuring out what was bothering me, I opted for distraction. I fired up the Internet and looked at ribbon catalogs until it was time to leave.

  ***

  Alex was supposed to pick me up and we were going to go for a hike. The leaves on the trees were just hinting at changing colors in the foothills of the mountains. It would become chilly as soon as the sun went down, which would cause the need for cuddling—something I wouldn't be hesitant to do.

  Since I’d had advanced notice of his arrival this time, I made preparations for his visit, including getting my mind right and deciding what I was going to tell him when we had our talk.

  When I heard the knock on the back door, the nervous stomach was back, but there was some excitement mixed in there too.

  Alex stood on the back steps, his smile gleaming as the lines around his eyes gathered in their charming way. He held a gift bag up as he came in.

  "What's this?"

  "A peace offering."

  "Why would you need one of those?" I asked.

  "I was thinking about how hard I've made it for you to trust me—"

  "No. It's me that has the problem. I don't trust people in general. But, I can't make excuses based on the past any more. The past is gone. You're here now and I should trust you. I do—trust you."

  "No. You shouldn't.”

  A feeling of panic rushed to my stomach. “Why?”

  “No—I mean, you should, but—okay, I’ve made it hard lately. I didn't tell you about Sam. I've thought about what you said, and you were right. I should have told you about our—well, that time.” He ran his hand through his hair.

  I gently tugged on his arm and motioned to the kitchen chair.

  “The truth is, I hadn’t totally forgotten about it, but I wished that I could. It was a mistake for both of us. She was involved with someone at the time and I had absolutely no interest in her.”

  I sat, assuming he would too, but he stayed standing. “I've given you all kinds of reasons not to trust me. And you still do. That's why I l…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Sorry, I’m not supposed to be on call, but—hang on just a sec.” While he checked his texts, I ran all kinds of scenarios through my mind.

  He’d started to say an “L” word. And what if it was THE “L” word I was worried about? It was way too soon in our relationship to be saying those kinds of words, especially that particular word. All this business with Samantha had thrown him off. He wasn’t thin
king straight. And now, here he was, standing in my kitchen, not wanting to sit down, probably with a rehearsed speech about “L” words like love and life that were way too serious for either of us to deal with right now.

  Yeah, that Samantha had really screwed things up.

  The possibility of our future might have crossed my mind a time or two, but only for a moment until I pushed the thought out as fast as it came in. I couldn’t even commit to getting bangs cut in my hair. How could I commit to marriage and kids and a mini-van? And what would I do with Zombie Sue? She didn’t have enough seats for kids, and I couldn’t just get another van. I couldn’t betray her that way. Suddenly it was a hundred degrees in my kitchen. I took off my jacket and fanned my face with a folded up placemat.

  “Quincy?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  I got up to get a glass of water. “I can’t get a new van.” I chugged down the water like it was a beer at a frat party.

  “O—kay. Is something wrong with your van?”

  I sucked in a breath. “Did I say that out loud?”

  He gave a short laugh. “Yeah, is everything all right?”

  “I—never mind.” I shook my head. “What were you going to say—before your phone…?”

  “Sorry about the interruption. It turned out to be nothing. So, where was I?”

  “You were saying you l…” Excruciating.

  “Oh yeah,” his cheeks reddened and he cleared his throat, “I know it’s hard for you to trust people, and I didn’t realize how the whole thing with Sam would make you feel until after it was too late. So I’m sorry for that. I—like um—being with you, Quincy."

  Relief. We were in just the right place in the relationship.

  "Anyway, I saw this at that new mall in Salt Lake and thought you might like it." He held up the gift bag.

  "Yay, presents! Thank you."

  I reached inside and pulled out a black t-shirt. Interesting choice, I thought to myself, until I unfolded something glorious. A character from the original best TV show in the world appeared before me. The sparkling eyes and gleaming white teeth of Dirk Benedict—Starbuck—twinkled back at me.