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

by Annie Adams

  “Do you even love Brock?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  I crossed my legs and leaned back to appear casual and non-threatening. “I’m not judging you about anything, but I just wonder why you got engaged if you were involved with Bruce?”

  She cleared her throat a couple of times and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I thought getting married would fix everything. I would get out from under my mom’s thumb. It seemed like a good idea, and Brock was so happy but…” she stared ahead for a long moment, “…once we started making the wedding plans and my mom just took over, I knew I was stuck. Even with Brock, she was still controlling my life. I kinda…freaked out. By the time we got to you for flowers I couldn’t handle it anymore.”

  I’d seen that happen more than once during wedding season. Everything is unicorns and rainbows when a couple gets engaged. But when the actual wedding planning starts, families and money and payments all bring reality into sharp focus for the young couple. The reality stage is when many engagements are broken off. And with a control freak like Jacqueline in the mix, I could see why Jenny had snapped. Well…almost.

  “Jenny, you need to make things right. If you still love Brock, you need to go to the police and tell them what happened.”

  “I can’t. I don’t want Bruce to get in trouble.”

  “But you said you love Brock,” I said.

  “I do,” was her tearful reply.

  “Then get out of here. Go. Forget about me. Call the police and tell them about Brock. You can help them find him. Please.”

  She stared at me for a couple of beats then stood up. She started to walk away, stopped and turned back. Her mouth moved as if to speak, but she didn’t. She walked away.

  It had actually worked. All those summer afternoons watching soap operas instead of playing outside had finally paid off. I’d reenacted a scene from my favorite soap, “Restless Lives,” and I’d done it perfectly! I’d played the part of Loretta, who was talking to her best friend Cinnamon, who had just found out her first boyfriend Rick hadn’t really died in the whaling accident off the coast of Florida, but she was already engaged to Phillip, who was away on a gold mining expedition in Venezuela. Cinnamon was also pregnant with Julio’s baby, but that would have to wait for another episode. With my acting skills, Jenny never stood a chance.

  I hurried over toward the closet, hit my shin on the corner of another bench and then found the door. I pulled on the handle, but the door wouldn’t open.

  “Hello! Who’s there?” Mom’s panicked voice cried out.

  “There’s something wrong,” I said. “It won’t open.”

  “You have to have the key, dummy.” I jumped at Jenny’s voice, which came from directly behind me.

  “Um, did you call the cops?” I said hopefully.

  “Move!”

  I moved to the side and Jenny shined a flashlight on the doorknob. I thought about running then, but she had my mother. Jenny unlocked the door. “Oh, Quincy, you did it.” The flashlight illuminated the relieved look on my mother’s face.

  “Mom it’s not—”

  “Oh shut up,” Jenny said. “I’m sure she knows the difference between a petite size two holding a gun and her Amazon daughter.” She told Mom to walk out, then handed her a flashlight and ordered us to walk single file toward the parking lot.

  “What about Brock?” I said.

  She laughed dismissively. “Quincy, you are so naïve.”

  “What are you going to do to us?” Mom said, her voice full of fear.

  “Quiet, helmet hair.”

  Mom had asked a good question. I didn’t believe Jenny knew what she was going to do with us. I got the impression she was making things up as she went and had been the whole time. My guess was that she’d had a complete mental breakdown. And the longer we spent with her, the longer she had to imagine things to do to us. I needed to think of something to get us out of the situation.

  “You must think I’m pretty dumb, huh?” I said over my shoulder. Jenny didn’t reply. I chuckled, “I mean, I really thought you were going to leave and call the police. How stupid was that?”

  I heard a quiet laugh. “You are pretty stupid,” Jenny said.

  “Hey…” Mom said. I shushed her, even though it was touching to have her come to my defense.

  “You do really love Brock, don’t you? Life’s not all about the money. You need family and relationships too,” I said.

  “Shut up, Quincy.”

  “Yes, shut up, Quincy. She’s holding the gun,” my mother quietly sing-songed from in front of me.

  “It’s just…I don’t think it’s too late. You could talk to the police and tell them how Bruce used you to help his company cover up the pollution. They could find Brock and you guys could get married and move away.

  No response. If Jenny got us to the parking lot, I was afraid we would end up in the trunk of her car. Then she would take us to some remote part of the marsh and dump our bodies. K.C. and Danny were probably already sleeping with the fishes…well maybe not fish, but brine shrimp and whatever else lives in the marsh water. After working in the marsh as long as she had, Jenny likely knew places to dump bodies where they would never be found.

  I thought about Alex and my dad and sisters as we marched on. What would happen if Jenny killed us? What about the shop and Aunt Rosie? I couldn’t let Jenny hurt us. Especially not my mom. Maybe I could lunge at Jenny and my mom could run away. Problem was, she probably wouldn’t run away. She would stay and try to help me. Then we would both be toast. I had to think of something better.

  As we walked, I occasionally heard the splashing of water and the sound of a ducks squawking. The breeze started up and at that time of the evening with the sun blocked out by plants, it was cold. We came to the Stonehenge of signs and I recognized a new, very familiar scent on the breeze. It was too dark to confirm anything by sight, but I knew who was wearing it. Not only was it familiar, it gave me the inspiration I had been searching for.

  “Jenny, I need to tie my shoe,” I said. “Please.”

  She sighed, “Hurry.”

  I bent down on one knee so that I was level with my mother’s leg. I patted her on the foot and she pointed the flashlight at my shoe. I took hold of the flashlight and stood up, then spun around, shining the light into Jenny’s eyes. She did exactly what I had hoped and instinctively put her hands up to block the light. I smacked her gun-arm on the wrist with the flashlight as hard as I could. I heard the gun clank on the boardwalk.

  “Now, Danny!” I yelled.

  A primal scream ripped through the air, the pitch high—even for Danny. I directed the beam at the scrum at our feet and pulled my mom out of the way. We backed away from the pile created by K.C. on top of Jenny with Danny barely grasping one of Jenny’s feet. Jenny easily kicked out of Danny’s grasp, but K.C. held on. They rolled around on the boardwalk. K.C. must’ve outweighed Jenny by…well…a lot.

  Even with the flashlight it was difficult to see everything that was happening. There were lots of grunts and slapping noises, and then I heard K.C. shriek, “Not the face!” and there was a loud splash. I shined the light at K.C., who kneeled at the edge of the boardwalk. The flashlight beam illuminated a soaked Jenny, chest deep in marsh water.

  K.C. panted, as if trying to catch her breath. “She had to go for the face. Three days before my wedding—and she goes for my face. Bad idea little sister. Bad idea.”

  Danny retrieved his phone from his MAV and called the sheriff while my mother held the gun pointed at Jenny and K.C. held the flashlight. I was more than slightly disturbed by the adamant way Mom volunteered to hold the gun. Danny took over flashlight duty so K.C. could call Fred, and I called Dad because Mom wouldn’t loosen her grip on the gun until the sheriff’s deputies arrived.

  K.C. explained to the officers that Jenny had ambushed her and Danny inside the visitor center and made Danny tie up K.C. at gun point, and then Jenny had tied up Danny. Danny eventually wr
iggled free and untied K.C.

  “She ain’t no boy scout,” Danny added. “Those were terrible knots.”

  Jenny had stolen Brock’s keys to all the buildings on the marsh. That’s why the building had been locked up when my mother and I arrived.

  My father and Fred were waiting for us in the parking lot once the sheriff’s deputies escorted us out. Mom rushed into Dad’s open arms and he wrapped her up in a bear hug. Memories of happy times together as a family filled my thoughts, and tears were rolling down my cheeks when Dad looked up and beckoned me over with an outstretched arm.

  Once we were cleared to leave, Mom rode in the truck with Dad, leaving me to drive home alone. As I passed Clint Wheeler’s farm, lights from the sheriff’s vehicles bounced off of the barn walls and lit up the usually black western sky.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The next day at Rosie’s Posies was spent directing traffic and revisiting the events of the previous night. It would have been nice to stay home in bed after the traumatic evening, but it was time to make the centerpieces for K.C.’s wedding and prepare for the other decorations we would produce over the next two days.

  I’d recruited as much help as I could. Allie and a couple of her fellow interior design students with some floral experience helped, along with Daphne, K.C., Danny and some of his staff members, and my mother.

  “You know, it’s really too bad Rosie isn’t here to help,” Mom said. “Where is she these days?”

  “I think she’s in Turkey, or Greece about now. Hard to say,” I said. “She would have loved to do a wedding this big. I’ll write to her and give her all the details when it’s done. She doesn’t do email, so I’ll have to write it all out and mail it to the cruise company.”

  “You can do that?” Allie said.

  “Those were the instructions she left. I guess they collect it for the passengers and forward it on.”

  “Make sure you tell her all about how you figured out Fred’s case too,” K.C. said. “She’ll be proud of ya kid, just like all of us, right, Annette?”

  “Absolutely,” Mom said.

  “It wasn’t just me that figured it out, it was all of you.”

  Mad banjo music blasted through the air. “Oh, there goes my cell,” Mom said. “It’s your father.”

  I went back to work on our assembly line. The first person in the line put wet floral foam in the container and secured it with waterproof tape. The next person added an armature of curly willow in either horizontal or vertical orientation, and then passed it to the person who inserted green seeded eucalyptus and smilex vines. Then, two different designers worked at adding burgundy dahlias, orange safflower, brown sunflowers, burnt orange and milk chocolate brown roses, carnations, Flame mini calla lilies and celosia. Once all the flowers were arranged, brown hypericum or orange bittersweet was placed as a finishing touch.

  Mom came over to the design table. “Your father will be here at noon with lunch for everyone. He just confirmed that he’s on time. I told him to bring utensils and plates and napkins. You don’t have those here do you? You really should keep those kinds of things on hand.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said. We had plenty of those things on hand, but it was kind of comforting to have the old mom back, instead of the pistol-packin’ mama from the night before.

  “Quincy, tell us how you managed to escape yesterday. K.C. says you wrestled the gun away and knocked the lady out,” Allie said.

  “K.C. was being modest. I didn’t really do anything. It was K.C. who tossed her into the water.”

  I’d been in and out of the design room when K.C. described the events of the previous night. She’d added her own “interpretations” to the story.

  “I’m confused about something,” Allie said. “Mom said you went to tie your shoe and that all of a sudden Danny and K.C. were there, like maybe you had a premonition.”

  “Yes, dear. How did you know they were there?” Mom asked.

  “I smelled Danny’s cologne, so I knew he must be nearby. I just figured I would do what I could to distract Jenny, and then hoped Danny would jump in.” I shrugged. “It all kinda just worked out.”

  My cell rang and I went to a quieter section of the store to answer. The caller ID said Hillside Police and little sparks of excitement filled my chest until I remembered Alex didn’t work for Hillside PD. Alex’s phone had rung straight to voicemail both times I’d tried to call him about what had happened with Jenny.

  After the call I returned to the workroom. “Who was that, honey?” Mom asked. Normally, I might have been ever so slightly annoyed at my mom’s nosiness, but I wanted to share this news with everyone.

  “That was Hillside police. It turns out we never saw Kyle Mangum’s wife for a good reason. She’s been dead for almost a year. And she wasn’t really his wife.”

  K.C. placed her hands on her hips. “That can’t be.” She held her hand out as if giving an invisible bouquet to an invisible woman. “I handed flowers to her myself more than once.”

  I lifted a pointer finger. “The woman you were delivering flowers to at the house…”

  “Yes,” K.C. said expectantly.

  “…wasn’t a woman. It was Kyle.”

  “Well, slap me silly and call me Sally,” K.C. said.

  Allie cut her eyes to me, and mouthed “What?”

  I laughed and gave a little shrug. “Kyle was pretending to be Lori when he came to the door. I guess Kyle and Lori met here, but she was from the Seattle area. Lori got sick, quit her job here and went back to Seattle. Apparently she never mentioned Kyle to her family, which only consisted of a distant cousin or two. They didn’t know about him until Hillside police tried to contact Lori about the bounced check. Unfortunately, Lori passed away from her illness.”

  K.C. looked at me with teary eyes. “That poor girl. Dying with no family to speak of. How in the world did Kyle have her checkbook?” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the edge of her apron.

  “He had more than her checkbook,” I said. “Kyle somehow doctored all the paperwork that declared them married, and got his name on all her accounts. Then, he ordered flowers from me, wrote checks from their bank accounts, etcetera, to keep up the illusion that she lived here with him.”

  “So that bedroom we saw…?” K.C. said.

  “Was a shrine, I guess.”

  “Wow. All those clown dolls were his?”

  “I don’t know. He’s a doll maker and does gigs as a party clown. She was a doll hobbyist. That’s how they met. At some kind of clown conference.” I felt a sudden chill and rubbed my arms up and down. “Whether it was his or her collection doesn’t matter. They were creepy no matter who they belonged to.”

  “It’s whom, dear,” Mom said.

  I looked at our mother and mouthed the word “whom” with emphasis on the “m.”

  Mom tried to suppress her laugh and waived me off.

  “Why did the police call you about it?” Allie asked.

  “He wrote a check to us on her account and apparently forged her signature. When it bounced, we went to his place to talk to him about it and found a whole lot of other things…”

  “Including my new cat,” K.C. said.

  “Him too,” I said. “Or her. Everything at that house was odd or suspicious, so we called the police.”

  “Do you think there was ever any real love there, or was he just in it for the money?” Mom said.

  “That shrine might have been weird as all get-out,” K.C. said. “But it was definitely the work of someone who was in love.”

  “I guess it depends upon your definition of love,” I said.

  “Speaking of that,” Allie said, in a sing-song voice, “what’s up with you and Alex?”

  I cleared my throat, “Um, what do you mean?”

  Oh, where to begin?

  “Where is he for starters? I thought he was going to be one of the groomsmen in your wedding, K.C.,” Allie said.

  “He had to go home to—” I started
to say.

  The front door bell chimed and I looked up to see my dad, arms laden with bags of food. They were plain, white plastic grocery bags, so right away I knew they were from Skinny’s. Oh sweet scones, I’ve missed you so.

  I rushed to the front of the store to help with the bags. “That was perfect timing.”

  “Well, thank you. Your old dad does something right every now and again.” He winked and smiled.

  We cleared off the design table and gathered stools from the backroom and the basement to sit on. There was a calm quiet for a few minutes as hungry people devoured lunch. K.C. interrupted the silence. “You know, we never did find out how Harold Busby was killed. Jenny says she or Bruce didn’t do it. If you can believe her.”

  “What about Jacqueline?” Allie said.

  “Jenny told us her mother isn’t involved in any of it. Jenny used her mother’s love of Egyptian culture and history as a cover. She ordered the Egyptian Phragmites herself. Who better than a biologist who specializes in marsh habitat to order a plant like that? She worked as a researcher, so no one would raise an eyebrow at her bringing in a normally illegal plant species.”

  “I’m afraid I know the answer to who killed old Busbeak,” Dad said. Mom shot him a glance and he held up his hands. “I mean poor old Harold.” Dad looked at Mom apologetically. “According to Clint Wheeler, he and Harold got into a fist fight over some accusations that Harold was throwing at Clint about polluting the marsh and bribing a federal employee.

  “He said Harold just wouldn’t quit, and one day he came to the farm and Clint told him to leave, but Harold came at him. Clint says he was defending himself when he punched Harold in the face. It was enough to knock him back, but Clint said Harold never passed out. He just stormed off on his own in the direction of the visitor center. Apparently Harold passed out later and fell into the water. That’s why Quincy found him—”

  “Angus,” Mom mercifully interrupted before we relived my discovery. “When did you speak with Clint Wheeler?”

  “I didn’t. Last night when I drove to see you, I passed Clint’s farm and saw all the sheriff’s trucks with their lights on. While I waited for you all to come out, I talked to one of the deputies I know…”