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

by Annie Adams

  “So, that check you gave me,” John continued.

  I nodded, “Mh hmm?”

  “Turns out it comes from the bank account of a deceased person.”

  “What?” I said, suddenly able to speak.

  “Can you tell me the name of the person who gave you the check, again?”

  “Why, it was Lori Mangum,” K.C. said.

  “What is your name ma’am?” he asked my cellmate.

  “I’m Karma Clackerton, Quincy’s delivery driver. Mrs. Mangum handed me the check at the door.”

  I nodded in affirmation.

  “What is Lori Mangum’s address? Is it the same as the one on the check?”

  “I think so,” I said. I described how to get to the Mangum’s house, and John said he would let me know what he found out. As he walked away, he expelled the laughter he’d been holding in.

  “Oh—my—hell!”

  I looked up and saw Danny walking toward us.

  “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, sweetie-pie,” K.C. said.

  He shook his index finger at her. “Ethel, you two have lots a ‘splainin’ to do.” He set down two canvas bags with his shop logo printed on the sides, then stood with hands on hips, mouth taut.

  “Can you take us home?” I said, the weariness seeping through my voice.

  “What happened?” he asked. “Kathy Green called me to come and get you but didn’t give me any details. She just told me to come and to bring something to cover you with. I brought these aprons from the shop. It was all I could think of in a pinch.”

  “They’re just perfect,” K.C. said.

  He approached as the door of the cell was unlocked and we stepped out.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “We had a little—mishap,” I said.

  He stepped too close then recoiled. A sort of high-pitched squeal came out of his mouth. “What kind of mishap, what do you—oh blessed saints! What is in your hair?” He sucked in an audible wheeze. “That smell, what is that smell?”

  “I’ll explain later, but my paper towel dress is unraveling,” I said.

  K.C. and I walked out of the public restroom wearing our aprons. There are only so many ways you can adjust a loop and two ribbon ties to try and maximize coverage.

  Danny clutched his chest. “Sweet Georgia Brown, what are you wearing?”

  I looked at him knowingly, agreeing with his assessment of K.C.’s giant black and in-your-face-red brassiere.

  “Quincy, hon, we have got to go shopping. Those panties are only appropriate for my sweet grandmother, who is long dead. I mean, really. What is your boy Alex going to do when he sees those—those things—you call undergarments? And that bra.” He put his palms on either side of his face. “You may as well cinch an old dishtowel around your breasts for as much support as you’re getting from that abomination. Tsk, tsk, tsk, disgraceful.”

  “Can we just go home, please?” I said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Roxie. Just giving you a little tough love. Um, one more thing, ladies. Could I just ask that you not let those lovely locks touch the inside of my SUV? I just had the car detailed. Thanks-sa-much.”

  ***

  Danny dropped me at home and I asked him to pull as far into the driveway as possible. I just might be hidden from my neighbors’ view if I ran to the back door.

  My cell phone had been in my pants pocket, which had been thrown into K.C.’s trunk. Once I got my clothes back, I found that just as I had feared, there were plenty of missed calls on my phone display.

  Alex Cell. The call I missed at the farm. I’d come back and listen to this one first.

  Mom Home. This came in about the same time we were driving back from the farm. I’d skip this one.

  Mom Home. This probably came while we were driving to the police station. Skip.

  Mom Home. This was only thirty seconds after the last one. Skip.

  Mom Cell. This happened while I spoke with Officer Davies. Delete without listening.

  Mom Cell. This happened only ten seconds after the last call. Delete for sure.

  Shop Phone. Mom had taken matters into her hands and driven to my shop. Good. Now Allie and Daphne had heard the MLM’s version of events. I’d have to listen in the highly unlikely possibility it wasn’t Mom who called from the shop.

  Alex Cell. What was this? It had probably happened while I was changing my clothes at the station. Move this one to the front of the line. I put the phone to my ear and before I could listen, I became nauseated at my own stench.

  The verdict on whether Alex missed me or wanted to end it completely would have to wait. I was just glad he hadn’t been around to find out about the whole almost-naked-convertible-driving-spree-thing.

  I showered, shampooed, and rinsed three times. After that, I scrubbed every inch of the claw-foot tub, then filled it with steaming water and herbal bath oil that was supposed to calm frazzled nerves. My nerves definitely qualified for frazzled.

  Once settled in the tub, I took a few cleansing breaths and grabbed the phone. Another missed call from Alex.

  The herbs and the hot water had already kicked in, but despite my uber relaxed state, I was giddy with the anticipation of hearing his voice. I played back his second message.

  “Quincy…call me back.” No pet name, no pleasantries? Still, the deep smooth tones of his voice did not disappoint. After the embarrassing and scary afternoon I’d just had, at least I could find some comfort with Alex, even though we hadn’t been on the best terms when he left.

  I called back, barely able to contain myself. I was afraid I’d break into happy tears or laughter as soon as he said hello.

  “Hi!” I said.

  “What the hell is going on over there?”

  “Are you referring to the shop?” I said, then made a weak laugh.

  “I’ve been trying to take off your clothes for a month with no luck, but the entire Hillside PD gets to see you naked without even buying you a drink first?”

  The tears came, but they weren’t happy tears.

  “It was all out of my control. First the crazy clowns and the Shim cat, and then the farm and the manure bath and K.C.’s Spanx. And it all smells like Jacqueline’s perfume.”

  “Babe, slow down. You’re taking a manure bath?”

  “No, I’m taking a regular bath now. I had to wash the manure out first.”

  “So—you’re in the tub—now?” His voice had a new ring to it.

  “Too bad you’re in California.”

  “Yeah…too bad.” There was a long pause. “Do I want to know what really happened today?”

  “Well…”

  “Were you naked?”

  “No…” I paused to think of the best way to describe the unfortunate state of my undress at the station, “…not completely.”

  Heavy sigh from the phone.

  “We were covered in manure and K.C. wouldn’t let us sit in her new car. It was either comply or walk home. No one would have seen us if K.C. hadn’t been speeding.”

  “Should I be worried about you?” he said.

  “No.” Yes…maybe? “It was a total accident at the farm. We just went to talk to the farmer—and—walked under a front loader dropping a load of manure.”

  “Sounds like a load of manure,” he said.

  “I still had my underwear on. And Danny says it wasn’t anything special to see, anyway.”

  An unhappy groan came through the receiver loud and clear. “How’s the cut on your leg?”

  “It’s fine. Really. It looked a lot worse than it was.”

  “Are you still mad at me for giving it to you?”

  “I’m not mad at you for that. It wasn’t your fault. It happened on the way in.”

  Another heavy sigh. “Then why were you so mad at me? I would have stayed there with you.”

  The thought of him being there with me at that moment was enough to cause an engine overheat. But I had to focus. “How’s your relative?”

  “Nice subject
change, Miss McKay. It’s great news, though. Kev’s checked into a really good treatment facility and I think he’ll get better there.”

  “Wait. Are we…talking about the same…relative?”

  “He’s the reason I came out here. We had an intervention. I tried to tell you about it that day at the marsh, but you walked away and then you fell and I cut your leg pulling you out.”

  Oh.

  “You didn’t cut my leg. And what’s an intervention? And who are we talking about?”

  “My cousin, Kevin. He has a drug problem. An intervention is where people who care about a person with an addiction problem meet with that person through the help of a facilitator. It’s kind of an orchestrated confrontation.” His voice took on a somber tone. “Kev and I grew up together. We were practically brothers. Everyone thought we were twins. We were really close until...well anyway, I wanted to be here for him.”

  We would have to delve into that specific “until” another time. “I’m so sorry about your cousin. I hope he recovers. I had no idea you were talking about an adult relative. When you said it involved Samantha and that it was private, I guess I got…jealous.” I was starting to prune up in the tub and the tears that welled up once again didn’t help any. “I miss you so much.” I began to sob. “I don’t know what you’re going to do about your little boy, but I hope there’s some way we can still be together.”

  Hysterical laughter exploded out of the receiving end of the phone. “What—are you—talking about?”

  “Your little boy. Samantha showed me and K.C. his picture.”

  “Phew. You had me sweating there for a second. I thought I was learning about another offspring.”

  “Another?”

  “Quincy?”

  “What?”

  “I like you.”

  I thought about that for a moment. Did he mean like, or like? And did it really matter, since he had another kid he hadn’t told me about?

  “You know why I like you?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Because you’re gullible. It’s sweet.”

  “But Samantha…”

  “She likes pushing your buttons. Sam and Kevin are a couple. Kevin is Matthew’s father.”

  “Matthew is…”

  “Yeah.”

  “But he looks just like you.”

  “I know. So does his dad.”

  “Alex?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “I like you too.”

  Alex said he could hear my teeth chattering through the phone, so we decided it was time to wrap it up.

  “Come back soon, okay?” I said.

  “On one condition.” His voice had taken on a seductive tone. “Will you show me what Hillside PD got to see when I get home?”

  “Oh, I don’t know if Danny will allow that. It depends on his schedule.”

  “Huh?”

  “Goodbye, Alex.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  K.C.’s wedding was a mere three days away. Now that Alex and I were straightened out, I could completely focus on the event…just as soon as I dealt with my mother’s wrath about the joyride and the jail visit.

  I’d decided the night before not to delete my mother’s messages. It was better to face her battery of complaints in a recording before I actually spoke to her. Plus, I was still on a high from my talk with Alex. I knew her mafia informants could have told her any version of the story, so I geared up to get an earful.

  Yes, her daughter was in a car with the top down and only wearing her underwear in said car as it drove through town, far exceeding the posted speed limit. And yes, her daughter was taken to the police department in said underwear, but left with the additional coverage of two small aprons, having given K.C. the extra one to accommodate her larger girth. The MLM comrades couldn’t make this stuff up any worse than it already was.

  Turns out my mother hadn’t heard about any of the wild nature ride. She’d called to see if I wanted to come with her to look for a dress for her new wedding ceremony. She’d already gone to my shop to pick up Allie, and called from there for one last try at an invitation.

  So, my mother and the rest of my family didn’t know about our ride for some strange reason. I wasn’t about to let them learn about it if I could help it.

  I met early that morning with Danny, K.C., and Fred to go over the action plan for the day of the event. We hadn’t heard anything new about the Sherriff’s investigation of Fred. We didn’t know if that was good or bad, but Fred told us as far as he was concerned, no news was good news. We were to carry on as if none of that “pish-posh” had ever happened.

  We planned a final walk-through for that afternoon. Danny, K.C., and I would go to the marsh and do a quick run-through of our delivery plan. Parking would be an issue with all of the guests arriving on the wedding day. We needed to make sure the crew was in and out without issue and without any guests seeing any of the behind the scenes dirty work.

  I pulled K.C. and Danny aside when Fred left for work and reminded them of how we didn’t want to share our little run-in with the law with my family, or with anyone else, for that matter.

  I looked at K.C. “I know you’ve probably already told Fred about everything, but,” I pointed at Danny and K.C. and myself in a circular motion, “we don’t need to share any of yesterday’s unpleasantness with anyone, right?”

  “I wouldn’t share that story for any reason,” Danny said. “I get nauseous just thinking about what I saw. And smelled. Qu’elle horreur.”

  I made a face at him and turned to K.C.

  “Oh, I didn’t tell Fred anything,” she said. “Danny here dropped me at my place so I could clean up before he took me to get my car. Then I drove over to Fred’s. I don’t want him to worry about one more thing. He’s keeping a brave face about everything and I’m concerned that our little problem at the farm would just throw him right over the edge.”

  ***

  The third day before a wedding can be kind of strange. Depending upon the scope of the event, it can be a super busy day or it can be a limbo day. All of our containers, ribbon, linens, and supplies were cleaned, polished, and accounted for. All of our fresh flowers and branches were in-store, having been processed by removing leaves that would fall below the waterline in the buckets and trimming the bottoms of the stems with sharp clippers and knives. Now all the flowers sat comfy in the cooler, at a perfect forty-one degrees Fahrenheit. In the countdown to event day, the centerpieces and other decorations were scheduled for production on day two. The more delicate personal flowers, like the bride’s bouquet, would wait until day one, as late as possible.

  My whole family was pitching in to help with K.C.’s wedding. My dad would be taking care of transporting the rented tables and chairs for the ceremony. He would also use his old pickup truck to move the beautiful arbor Danny and I had designed and put together using white quaking aspen poles. K.C. and Fred would stand with the officiant under the arbor, which would be adorned with birch and willow branches, ribbon, and flowers in the range of autumn colors.

  My mother stopped by the shop to see where she could help, and since most things were on schedule for the wedding and Daphne and K.C. had daily deliveries taken care of, I asked her if she could help me pick up lunch for everyone.

  The consensus had been Skinny’s, but I made the excuse that K.C.’s favorite was a nice Bulgy Burger, ranch style. No need for me or K.C. to share the shame of our Skinny’s probation. It would be tantamount to wearing a red “A” on our shirts.

  I drove over to Bulgy Burger with my mother. This time, I pulled into the parking lot, deciding to order and pick up the food inside the restaurant. In another attempt at changing my routine, I was going to order chicken strips for myself, with barbeque, no—make that sweet and sour sauce—and onion rings with ketchup, not fry sauce. Why was this change-up so important? In the larger scheme of life, it wasn’t. It simply gave me great satisfaction to prove Burger Guy wrong.

  Mom took a cal
l on her cell phone from one of her friends. My heart jumped up in my chest—worried she was about to receive the news about our wild ride. I paused long enough to hear Mom’s replies but they didn’t seem to bear any anger toward me. Later, I learned it was an intelligence report about someone being seen at the grocery store with curlers in her hair at five that morning. Imagine!

  She waved me out of the car, indicating with exaggerated mouthing that she would stay inside.

  I stepped out of Zombie Sue and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. My nerves tingled. I looked over my shoulder to the left, and saw no one. Nobody to my right either—but it felt like I was being watched.

  I entered and walked up to the bright red counter at Bulgy Burger to place my order. The same kid from the drive-through was at the cash register this time. I looked him in the eye and before he could say anything, I said, “I’ll have chicken strips—”

  “With sweet and sour,” he said.

  I suppressed a scowl. “I need a side of onion rings—”

  “Ketchup?” He had a you-know-what-eating grin on his face, so I called an audible.

  “No, fry sauce.” I gave him my “so there,” face.

  “Sorry, we’re out.”

  “Do you have ketchup?”

  “Yes, I told—”

  “Do you have mayonnaise?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Well then, you have fry sauce.”

  “You’re missing the secret ingredient,” he said, the same certain grin back on his face.

  “What’s that?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”

  I didn’t suppress the scowl this time. I placed the rest of the order for everyone else. When the food was ready, I took the bag and left, pretending not to notice the strange looks from the other customers as I grumbled to myself on the way out. They just didn’t understand. I was trying to make some changes in my life. I refused to be known as just the Bulgy-Burger-with-Fries-Girl.

  When I got back in the van, Mom was still on her call, and then my cell phone rang. It was Jacqueline DeMechante’s number. I took in a sharp breath and felt my guts drop to the bottom of the seat.

  I didn’t want to panic and let her know I was scared of her. This woman was bat-crazy and I didn’t want to antagonize her any further, so I thought it best I answer the phone. I also couldn’t do anything to make my mother suspicious. She would start digging, and when she got that information shovel into the ground, all secrets came to the surface.