Piper and Will stared as Marguerite charged toward the greenhouse, her employee following a safe eight or ten feet behind.
After a moment, Will asked, “Think you’ll call?”
Piper stared at the doorway Marguerite had just stormed through. “Maybe I’ll just e-mail. Or text.”
Will nodded.
“Good choice,” he said.
15
Piper and Will had returned to the parking lot and were heading toward his van when Piper caught sight of a familiar figure walking toward them.
“Hello there!” Emma Leahy called out, looking for once appropriately dressed in her usual grass-stained clothing. “What brings you two here? Planning to grow something more than Christmas trees, Will?”
“Not for now,” Will said.
Piper hesitated about what to share until she remembered how helpful Emma had been when dill farmer Gerald Standley had been under suspicion of murder. Where, though, would Emma’s loyalties fall in this case? With Sugar Heywood and her son, Zach, whom she might know only in passing, or with the owner of a business that occupied an important chunk of Emma’s life? There was one way to find out.
“We’re here because of Zach Heywood. Did you know he’s become a suspect in Dirk Unger’s murder?”
“No! Why on earth?”
Piper ran through Sheriff Carlyle’s reasons for focusing on Zach. “Those of us who know him can’t believe Zach is guilty, but it’s looking bad for him. We need to discover who’s really responsible for the murder and soon. Sugar is frantic.”
“I’m sure! But, but . . . you’re looking here?”
Piper explained why Marguerite Lloyd could have a motive. “During the brief time we spent with her today, her bitterness toward Unger was clear. You know her better. Would you say she’s capable of acting on it?”
“Oh! My.” Emma stared for a while, considering the question. Piper understood the delay. Who, after all, easily moves a person they’ve known for years from their comfortable Master Gardener slot to that of possible murderer? She watched as Emma’s expression slowly changed from stunned to analytical.
“Marguerite does have an awful temper,” she said, to which both Will and Piper easily agreed. “And it doesn’t cool down in any kind of hurry, from what I’ve seen. I’ve known her to banish a customer for life when one of his kids accidentally tipped over the water garden display. It did make a terrible mess, but still . . .”
“That’s the kind of aggravation that good businesspeople learn to deal with,” Will said. “And in a way that doesn’t lose them customers.”
Emma nodded. “Marguerite probably hurt herself more that day than the accident had cost her. She’s had other, bigger losses lately, too, ones that were out of her control. Storm damage, for one. See those broken panes on her greenhouse? That’s one of the more visible signs, and something I would think she’d have fixed right away if she could afford it. But with the recent slump in the economy, her kind of business suffers. Gardens are considered by some to be a luxury,” Emma said with a look that signaled that definitely wasn’t the case with her. “If money gets tight, flowers get dropped from many a budget.”
“Which is probably why she was so upset with Dirk Unger when he derailed her landscaping prospect with the Fortneys,” Piper said, glancing at Will. “It could have been desperately important to her, financially.”
“I could see her becoming mad enough over that to consider murder,” Emma said. “Maybe,” she qualified.
“Being a plant person, she’d know about bloodroot,” Piper pointed out.
Emma agreed. “But with Marguerite’s temper, I guess I’d expect her to do something like whack Unger over the head with a shovel right away, not wait for an opportune time to poison him.”
“She might have a temper,” Will said. “But she’s not stupid. She wouldn’t want to end up weeding prison gardens for the rest of her life because of a man like Unger.”
Both Emma and Piper nodded thoughtfully at that, Piper picturing Marguerite Lloyd carefully harvesting bloodroot from the woods and chopping it up to blend unnoticeably into a salad. Would that have given her satisfaction enough to rein in a preference for immediate action? At this point, Piper didn’t know.
Piper thanked Emma for her helpful input, and she and Will took off. During the drive back to the Christmas tree farm, they tossed around the pros and cons of Marguerite being a serious suspect, ending up with agreeing to keep her, for the time being, as a “maybe” until more information turned up.
“Thanks for coming with me,” Piper said as she switched to her own car at Will’s. “I hope you don’t feel it was a big waste of time for you.”
Will leaned into her open driver’s-side window to give her a lingering kiss. “Actually, I was considering stirring up a few innocent people as suspects, just so we could do this more often.”
Piper grinned. “I’m sure we can come up with better reasons to get together than that.” When Will looked inclined to lean down again, she quickly turned her ignition. “After business hours,” she said, laughing, and put her car into gear. She waved at Will’s disappearing reflection in her rearview mirror as she drove down his driveway.
Back at her shop, Piper found Gil Williams talking with Amy. He brightened at the sight of her but still looked serious.
“I was just telling Amy what I learned from one of my customers,” the bookseller said.
“I have a feeling it’s not good,” Piper said, slipping off the light jacket she’d worn to Marguerite Lloyd’s place.
“Well, it definitely won’t help Zach with the situation he’s in.” Gil sighed and ran a hand through his white hair, mussing it more than it had been to start. “Zach, it seems, has a history of violence.”
“Uh-oh.”
“An altercation took place this past winter at his college. I don’t know the details—my customer’s daughter is at the same school, which is how he learned about it—but it’s likely on the boy’s record.”
“Maybe it wasn’t his fault,” Amy said. “Maybe he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and got pulled into the middle of something.”
“And maybe we should ask Zach about it,” Piper said. “Whatever happened, though, I agree, Gil. If it’s on his record it’ll be one more strike against Zach for the sheriff.”
“Oh, shoot!” Amy said. “I’d say I’d talk to Daddy about it, but I can’t, really. I mean, I can try, but I won’t get anywhere.”
“Let’s find out exactly what happened first,” Piper said. “I’ll get in touch with Zach.”
“Good,” Gil said. “Sorry to be the bearer of such news but I thought you should know. I’d better get back to my shop.”
He took off and Piper placed a call to Zach Heywood’s cell phone. It went to voice mail so she left a brief message asking him to call back. Customers walked in as she disconnected so she put concerns about Zach on hold as she returned to her world of pickling and preserving, a place that was much more predictable and to which she could more usually count on having all the answers.
. . .
By closing time, Piper still hadn’t heard back from Zach, so she called Sugar to see if he was at home. He wasn’t, and Piper asked Sugar to tell him to get in touch without explaining why. She wanted to hear Zach’s explanation of the “altercation” directly from him, not from Sugar—assuming she knew about it. If she didn’t, Piper would insist to Zach that he tell his mother immediately, before she heard about it from someone else—like the sheriff.
Piper was on the verge of locking up when she saw Scott’s Volvo pull up to the curb. What now? She watched closely as he climbed out but spotted no suspicious-looking package. Perhaps he had something to share about Zach’s case.
“Hi,” Scott said as he walked in. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.” He looked tired, minus his jacket and tie and
with the sleeves of his rumpled white shirt rolled up untidily.
“One more minute and I wouldn’t have been. Hard day?”
Scott shook his head. “Just filled with tedious, time-consuming details. Part of the job description. Lunch, unfortunately, got lost in the muddle, so I’m starved. I was heading for a quick dinner when I saw your store lights still on. You know how I hate dining alone. Can I talk you into joining me?”
Piper was on the verge of declining. She had no plans and Will had already told her he would be busy with work that evening, but— Her phone rang. She quickly checked the display. It was Zach.
“Zach!” she said, excited to finally hear from him. “We need to talk. Where are you now?”
“I just left the library.”
Piper thought fast. Scott should hear what Zach had to say, too. “Head over to Niki’s,” she said, referring to a small restaurant within walking distance of the library. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes with Scott Littleton.”
Scott’s eyebrows shot up and he suddenly looked a lot less tired.
Zach agreed and Piper disconnected, then turned Scott toward the door. “Give me a minute to close up,” she said. “I’ll explain all on the way over.”
. . .
Niki’s was a small, family-run restaurant that offered great Mediterranean-style food in a casual setting. It was usually crowded and noisy, which was perfect, Piper felt, since Zach needed to be able to talk freely without fear of being overheard. A few bites of good food couldn’t hurt, either, as far as loosening him up. When Scott pulled into a spot across the street from Niki’s, they saw Zach waiting near the door, hands in pockets and shifting his weight uneasily.
Scott sighed. “Why do clients think it’s okay to keep things from their lawyers?”
“Wait till you hear the whole story,” Piper said, opening her door.
“Right. That’s what Ted Bundy said.”
Piper rolled her eyes and climbed out.
A young hostess met them near the door and Scott requested the empty table at the back. When their waitress appeared with water, they ordered quickly, Zach hesitating until Scott said, “My treat.” Piper waited until the sandwich and wrap platters arrived, then asked Zach to explain what had happened at college to put a black mark on his record.
“But,” Scott cautioned, “realize what you say right now won’t be considered confidential, okay?”
“Okay. But the whole thing was one stupid mistake,” he said, before biting a significant chunk out of his gyro.
“Just start at the beginning,” Scott said when Zach reached for his Coke and took a gulp. Zach nodded.
“We were at a basketball game, in the stands. My buddy Tom and me. The game was winding down and it was pretty clear we were going to lose, so people were talking to each other instead of watching. These jerks in back of us had been making a lot of noise the whole time, trying to top each other with lame jokes and trash talk. For some reason they started going on about a girl I know from chem class. Missy. She’s my lab partner, a great girl, and she didn’t deserve any of what they were saying. After putting up with it for a while, I turned around and asked them to cut it out.”
“How did they react?” Piper asked.
“Like the goofballs they were. Plus I think they’d been drinking. I should have known and saved my breath ’cause they thought it was hilarious to ramp it up even more. And louder.”
Piper could see the anger in Zach’s eyes as the scene ran through his head.
“At that point I should have just got out of there. Tom wanted to split. I don’t know what I thought I was going to accomplish by getting into an argument. Missy wasn’t a girlfriend, you know? But she was a girl I thought needed standing up for. I mean, what if all that got back to her? How would she feel?”
“So how did the fight start?” Scott asked.
Zach shook his head helplessly. “I don’t even know. Somebody’s soda got knocked over somebody else’s pants. I swear it wasn’t me that did it. Plenty of yells and pushes. Punches thrown and pretty soon it’s one big brawl. Security runs over and before I know it Tom and me are under arrest.”
“What about the others?” Scott asked.
“A couple of them were grabbed, too. The rest scattered. I felt really bad about Tom. None of it was his fault.”
“Any injuries?”
“Cuts and bruises. Somebody twisted an ankle.”
Scott nodded. “So you were arrested. What was the charge?”
“Assault. Second degree. It was all wrong but there was nothing I could do about it. I just wanted it over with, so I pleaded guilty. Got a sentence they called probation before judgment. That meant I could go right back to school.”
Scott nodded. “PBJ is not classified as a conviction, so you got off lightly, but it does go on your record.
Zach looked from Scott to Piper and back. “I thought that was the end of it. I never told my mom. How did you find out?”
“You’re not the only person from Cloverdale who goes to that school,” Piper said. “It might not have ever been mentioned but people are more aware of you now. You should tell your mother, or someone else will.”
Zach winced but nodded. “I wish I’d never come home for spring break.”
Piper wished he’d never gone to that basketball game, either, but such thoughts were just wasted energy. Though Zach’s explanation, that he’d been standing up for a friend, was better than if he’d been out for some sort of revenge, the fact remained that he had an arrest for violence resulting in bodily harm on his record. She didn’t know precisely how that was going to affect his situation, but it couldn’t be good.
They finished up at Niki’s and Scott told Zach to show up at his office with Sugar on Monday. He promised to do so and hitched up his backpack to walk glumly off. Piper was stepping into Scott’s Volvo when her cell phone signaled a text message. It was from Will. She waited until Scott closed her door to read it.
“Work done. Bushed. Just saying hi + thinking of U. What R U up to?”
Scott got in on his side and she slipped the phone into her pocket. She buckled up and listened as Scott talked about Zach’s statement, even discussed it with him at some length as he drove back to her place. Had Zach told the whole truth of the matter? They could only hope so.
But a large part of her mind lingered on Will’s question and how she would answer it. He’d been great about the papier-mâché cat, saying all he cared about was that Piper was with him then. Now she was with Scott, had just shared a dinner with him. It was, of course, to talk to Zach. But here she sat with her ex-fiancé as Will waited to hear what she was up to. What could she say that wouldn’t sound like excusing and overexplaining? How understanding could she expect the man to be?
16
Piper checked herself in her bedroom mirror. She’d ruffled through her closet for half the morning, trying to decide what was appropriate to wear to Lydia Porter’s tea. Who goes to afternoon teas, anymore? If it weren’t for her efforts to clear Zach Heywood, Piper wouldn’t. It was too nice a Sunday afternoon.
She didn’t doubt Lydia would get a good turnout. Curiosity to see the inside of the Porters’ redecorated mansion would draw many. A few, like Mrs. Tilley, might be impressed enough with Lydia to feel honored at the invitation. The rest, like Aunt Judy, would attend out of courtesy. Piper was showing up to learn what she could about Dirk Unger, though she expected to expend a pound of effort for any ounce of reward.
She adjusted the lacy shrug she’d slipped over a sleeveless, full-skirted cotton dress. Would that do for blending in properly while trying to dig up dirt—metaphorically speaking? Piper sighed and grabbed her purse to make her high-heeled-careful way down the stairs, hoping the food would at least be good. That brought thoughts of Sugar Heywood, who should have catered the event, causing Piper to double her determinat
ion to make the most of the afternoon.
Piper thought about Will during her drive to the tea. She’d tried to reach him the night before after Scott dropped her off. But apparently Will’s claim of being bushed was accurate, as her call had gone to voice mail. She intended to try again after the tea, when she might have more to talk about besides what she’d been up to the previous evening.
Piper turned onto the Porters’ street and saw she wasn’t the first to arrive. Cars lined both sides of the wide, tree-lined avenue and women in their spring finery ambled in pairs or groups toward the mansion. Piper parked and joined the parade, admiring the Victorian-era house up ahead. A Queen Anne style, she guessed, with multiple turrets and dormers jutting from the upper floors. The wraparound veranda made Piper salivate, picturing herself sipping lemonade in one of its green-painted rocking chairs on a warm summer evening—preferably minus the current owners. Wide stairs led up to that veranda, and she climbed them to reach the double front doors, trimmed with beautiful stained glass.
A young woman dressed in a black uniform and white frilled apron and cap, looking as though she’d stepped straight out of a 1940s film, invited guests into the grand foyer. Piper entered and joined many others in gaping about shamelessly. The foyer’s gleaming oak paneling, graceful staircase, and muraled ceiling offered much to swoon over, though a second uniformed maid did her best to move everyone along to the huge dining room at the left of the foyer, relieving guests of the few wraps that had been worn on that mild day.
Lydia Porter stood just inside the opened pocket doors of the dining room, draped in flowing lavender silk and pearls, her silver hair coiffed and sprayed into immobility. Mallory occupied the space beside her, and she towered several inches over her petite mother despite low-heeled shoes but possessed little of her mother’s bearing and poise. Her expensive-looking cotton dress could have been draped on a headless mannequin for all the presence she projected. She was, however, dutifully greeting each guest passed on to her by Lydia, in between coughs and sniffs.
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