Trouble In Bloom

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Trouble In Bloom Page 15

by Heather Webber


  "She needs the help. Such a big house for one person."

  Mrs. Greeble's husband had passed away last spring, and she hadn't resigned herself to moving to a smaller place. The upkeep of her home was beginning to take a toll, both physically and financially. I hoped Riley kept that in mind when he charged her.

  The picketers about-faced. I motioned to them. "Have they been out there all day?"

  "Since eight."

  "You've been here since eight?"

  She waved a dishrag at me. "There was a lot of cleaning to do."

  "Yeah, yeah. I need a housekeeper."

  She smiled. We launched into a conversation about Maria enjoying her newlywedded life and about Gracie who needed medication. Then my mother needed to know every detail of Genevieve's death and what was going to happen with the show.

  By the time I was done explaining, I longed for a cream puff.

  "Kevin called," my mother said.

  There went my appetite.

  "Did he say why?"

  "No, though I suspect it has something to do with the murder."

  I suspected too. Note to self: Avoid Kevin at all costs.

  "Anyone else call?" I asked. I'd noticed the light on my phone wasn't blinking. No messages.

  "Like?"

  "I don't know." I swung my foot back and forth.

  "What are you not telling your mama?"

  "Did you know I need a housekeeper?"

  She grinned. "It's a good thing I love you, Nina Colette."

  "Right back at ya."

  Reaching across the counter, she handed me a cream puff. I'd like to say I took my time and enjoyed every morsel.

  I fairly inhaled it.

  "I'll need two of these for Buzz and Winky." I grabbed two more off the plate, set them on a napkin.

  "Who?"

  "The picketers."

  "Ah. Honey and bees?" she asked.

  She was referring to that old adage about attracting bees by using honey.

  "Exactly."

  Four webbed aluminum chairs sat vacant on my front lawn. Not a hard hat to be seen.

  Which was probably a good thing since I hadn't thought to bring cream puffs for the construction workers.

  Buzz and Winky circled the small island in my front yard like guppies that'd lost their school.

  When they spotted me they swam a little slower—and came to a complete stop when they saw the cream puffs in my hand. "What happened to the guys?" I asked, motioning to the chairs.

  "Clear out everyday at exactly four o'clock." Winky eyed the cream puff, practically drooling.

  Buzz shifted from foot to foot. His worn-out Nikes skimmed across the ground as if doing a jig. Faded jeans hugged his ample waist, and a mustard yellow hoodie emblazoned with ST. BLAISE ELEMENTARY clung to his fullfigured frame.

  Since it was getting late and I needed to get to the studio, I decided to get to the point.

  The point being my informal interrogation.

  Using the cream puffs as an incentive.

  Who, after all, could pass up a cream puff?

  The great cream puff mission was all about information gathering. If my hunch was correct, someone had paid Winky and Buzz to picket my house. Their placards never mentioned any kind of organization, and I suspected there wasn't one. Well, one they belonged to.

  This picketing was a PR stunt pure and simple. All I had to do was prove it. And find out who hired them.

  Piece of . . . cream puff.

  "Can I ask you two some questions?"

  Buzz's Nikes skimmed faster. Put on some Celtic music and he could be the next big River Dancer. "Sure. I guess."

  Winky never took his eyes off the cream puffs as he nodded.

  "What organization do you work for?"

  "Moral TV," Winky said at the same time Buzz said, "TV Morality."

  They looked at each other, then at me. Color slowly crept into Buzz's cheeks.

  "Moral TV," Buzz said.

  "So, if I go inside, log onto the computer, and do a search for a group called Moral TV, will I find it?"

  "Morality TV," Buzz quickly put in. "My bad."

  My eyebrows arched. They were my built-in BS meters, and these two were seriously BSing me.

  Someone had definitely paid them to picket. These guys had been on the news every night this week, garnering Hitched or Ditched a lot of PR.

  "Have either of you met Thad Cochran?"

  Buzz's feet stilled. Winky's nose twitched. Neither said anything.

  "Willie Sala?"

  Again, nothing.

  "Sherry Cochran?"

  "Never heard of 'em," Winky said.

  Buzz wouldn't look me in the eye. "You?" I asked, pointblank.

  "Me?"

  "Do you know them?"

  His left foot tapped. "Not personally."

  "You sure?"

  "Very."

  My eyebrows jumped into my hairline. I didn't believe him for a second. But I also didn't know how to prove he was lying.

  "Listen," I told them. "Do you know I have a gaping hole in my living room ceiling?"

  They shook their heads.

  "Do you know how hard it is to get construction workers here? On time? Willing to do the work?"

  "No ma'am," Winky mumbled.

  Ma'am. Hmmph. That made me angrier.

  "Well, let me tell you what I do know. I know someone's paid you to stand out here. I know that my ex-husband is a cop. And I know that if you're here tomorrow on my front lawn, I will make a few phone calls and have you removed. You two are standing in the way of my house being put back together again, and I've had just about enough of it. So I don't know how much your boss is paying you, but is it worth getting hauled into jail? Do we understand each other?" I wasn't sure they could be arrested, but it sounded good.

  Both nodded in unison.

  "Good." I smiled and held up the napkin. "Cream puff?"

  They each took one, dropped their pickets and ran.

  I watched them jump into their car, a newer model Hyundai. And as Buzz drove off, I couldn't help but think I could get used to the new me.

  Sixteen

  "He'll be here, sugar."

  Perry sounded so sure. I wasn't. I had yet to hear from Bobby. It was as if he'd dropped off the face of the earth. Gone. Poof.

  I looked at my watch. Or rather, where my watch should be. I'd misplaced it somewhere and hadn't been able to find it. My mind hadn't quite accepted the fact that it wasn't on my wrist.

  Perry held up his arm. "It's six-thirty."

  "Thank you."

  "How about tomorrow?" he asked.

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Shopping. I can't believe you're wearing linen at this time of year."

  I smoothed my wrinkled pants. "Is there a time of year for linen?"

  He shook his head. "We have a lot of work to do with you if you don't know the answer to that question."

  Best to get started right away. I pulled out my date book. "Tomorrow afternoon is good."

  He pulled out his PDA. "Twelve?"

  I penciled it in. "Meet you at the mall?"

  "In front of Macy's. And bring your credit card."

  Thankfully, I was in a position where money wasn't an issue. I wasn't rich by any means, but my job provided well for me. Still, I had a few palpitations about spending large amounts of money on clothes. It was just something I'd never done.

  The old me would have stressed over it. The new me still stressed over it, but pushed it to the back of my mind so I didn't think about it too much.

  Louisa bustled around the set. The water bed had been made with red satin sheets and a red velvet bedspread.

  Classy.

  Jessica perched on the end of the bed, dressed in a tiny nightie sure to get men's blood pressures—and ratings— soaring.

  Willie stood in the corner, talking to one of the executives. Technicians checked wires, cables, cameras and lights. Taping was set to begin in twenty minutes.

  Still no
sign of Bobby.

  Don't care, don't care, I chanted to myself.

  My phone rang, and I immediately flipped it open.

  So much for not caring.

  Only it wasn't Bobby. It was Kit. Something tightened in my chest when I remembered those tears in his eyes. I found a quiet corner to talk in peace.

  "Hey," I said. "You okay?"

  "Fine."

  All right. I wouldn't push the issue—even though I wanted to.

  "What's up?"

  "We've got a problem."

  "With the mini?"

  "The mini's done, looks great, Pippi loved it."

  I watched Louisa run back and forth across the set. She seemed to do more work than anyone else. "Then what's the problem?"

  "Do you remember Minnie?"

  "Oh no! She's not dead, is she?"

  "No," he said in a way that made me sound crazy.

  I'd been hanging around Nels and Roxie too long. I looked around for them. They must have gone home for the day—or were still in the editing room.

  "She wheeled herself into the common room before the makeover was over."

  "So, no surprise."

  "Not for her."

  "What am I hearing in your voice?"

  "Nina, Minnie's ring is gone. Big diamond. And Pippi thinks one of us took it. She's going to be in the office at eight tomorrow morning to speak with you."

  Yes, my employees all had rap sheets, but I trusted them. Every single one.

  Except . . .

  I hardly knew the new guy. Jeff Dannon. And hadn't he been arrested for theft?

  Great.

  "Had Jeff been around Minnie at all?"

  "Wheeled her downstairs after she came in and found us."

  His voice dropped off at the end of that sentence, his tone saying much more than his words.

  "Did Pippi call the police?"

  "No. Said she wanted to speak with you."

  I wondered why. If a big expensive ring went missing, I'd want the police involved. But maybe she didn't want the PR, unlike some other people around here.

  "Kit?"

  "Yo."

  "Are you okay?"

  There was a long pause. "Dandy."

  I sighed. "You know, I'm here if you need anything. Just gotta ask."

  "Yeah."

  I hoped he took me up on the offer, but doubted he would. He was the proud sort.

  "Okay. Give me a call if anything else comes up."

  "Will do."

  I hung up just as Carson Keyes strutted into the room, a cameraman trailing him. I watched as he shook hands with Willie and the network guy.

  Louisa bustled by. I grabbed her. "Do you know why Carson's here? I thought Willie banned all media."

  "Changed his mind. Thought having someone behind the scenes would take the pressure off."

  She hurried away.

  From my spot in the corner, I could watch Willie unfettered. His comb-over had been plastered into submission. His dark eyes glistened and his teeth gleamed like those in a Crest ad. He looked like a salesman on the verge of landing the big one, and his hook was firmly lodged in the executive's lip.

  Perry cozied up. "Just heard a rumor that ABC is interested in the show. Willie's got himself a bidding war."

  Money. Had Genevieve's death been all about money?

  Jessica lounged on the water bed. I couldn't forget she had a lot to gain from Genevieve's death too. Not only sweet revenge for being fired in the first place, but namely her job back, and a chance to get her name and face in a national market.

  And Thad? He had the same motivation. I looked around for him. He wasn't here.

  Mario stood at the buffet table with Louisa, chatting it up. I couldn't help myself. I said to Perry, "If Mario was an egg, would he be over-easy, scrambled, poached, or hard-boiled?"

  Laughter bubbled out of him. "Oh, scrambled, definitely. Bobby?"

  "Hard-boiled." I winked.

  His laughter carried across the room, catching Mario's at

  tention. He wandered over. "What's so funny?" he asked.

  "Eggs," Perry and I said at the same time, then laughed.

  One of Mario's eyebrows dipped. "I've got news for you," he said to me.

  "Me?"

  "You."

  "About?"

  "Bobby."

  "Oh?"

  I tried not to sound overeager but couldn't quite pull it off.

  "He was a no-show today because he was looking for someone to take care of his grandfather tomorrow while he flies back to Florida to deal with his job."

  So he hadn't left yet. That was good to know.

  "What about his job?" Perry asked.

  "I don't know," Mario said, then went on, "he's fl ying out first thing in the morning, though."

  "How do you know all this?"

  "Louisa."

  "How does she know all this?"

  "Bobby."

  Perry scowled on my behalf. "What's he doing talking to her?"

  "Well, originally for the show, to tell her he'd be gone tomorrow," Mario said. Then he leaned in and whispered, "But word is she's volunteered to watch over his grandfather while he's gone."

  "Her?" I gasped, not sure whether I was relieved he hadn't asked me to help or hurt.

  After all, Mac was a handful, but then again, Louisa was a complete stranger.

  "Why would she do that?"

  Mario arched his left eyebrow.

  "Oh," Perry said. He turned a sorrowful look in my direction. "Ohhhh."

  "It's okay. No big deal."

  Both looked at me like they'd sealed my fate as "ditched" and were going to send me a sympathy bouquet pronto.

  I couldn't very well tell them Bobby and I weren't really together and that we were on the show under false pretenses, now could I?

  Actually, why couldn't I? Obviously Bobby and I weren't needed by Josh anymore. From the way Jessica lay sprawled on the water bed, there would be no lawsuit.

  The only thing keeping me here was the contract I'd signed.

  The sooner this farce was over, the better.

  Hmmph. Asking Louisa to help him out.

  What was that all about?

  Out of the corner of my eye I watched Louisa dash across the set, all bouncy and trouncy, her curls flying out behind her.

  Willie motioned her over, leaned in and whispered in his usual loud manner. They were about twenty feet away, however, and all I could make out was the name Thad.

  Who wasn't to be seen. Was he off pouting somewhere, or had he quit the show in a tantrum?

  Perry drew in a breath. "Well lookee-loo."

  I turned. And lookee-looed.

  "Hi," I said to Bobby as he kissed my cheek.

  Mario and Perry gave him the evil eye. They did it quite well. My mother would be quite impressed with their efforts.

  "Got a sec?" he asked me.

  The old me wanted to shout, "Yes!" The new me, however, weakly said, "I think we're about to start."

  "Just one, eensy second, Nina."

  Don't give in, don't give in, the new me chanted.

  I looked into his eyes and said, "Maybe later."

  "Nina . . . "

  My eyebrows snapped together. "Louisa? You asked Louisa?"

  I'd surprised myself with my little outburst. Usually I hated confrontation, and now twice today I'd willingly thrown myself into it.

  "Is that what you're mad about?"

  "How about that I hear you're going back to Florida from Roxie, of all people. You won't answer my calls. Then I learn you're letting a complete stranger help you with Mac. What would I be mad about?"

 

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