The Final Arrangement

by Annie Adams

  I turned back and said, “I’ll have to call LaDonna before I come next time. I’m sorry to have interrupted. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay, yes goodbye.” He walked toward me wearing a patronizing half smile and shaking his head. He held his arms out to the sides, shepherding me toward the door.

  I watched him over my shoulder as I moved. Before he reached me to shoo me out, I spun around abruptly to face him. “Irwin, I just had one question; maybe you could answer.”

  “Oh, okay, what is it?” He took another glance back into the office then dropped his arms to his sides.

  “Well the other day I was talking to JoAnne from JoAnne’s Flower Box and…”

  “Awful woman,” he mumbled.

  “Yes well,” I continued, “she was talking to me about a business opportunity, and I wanted to get your advice about it.”

  “Oh?” His bushy eyebrows rose. I had piqued his interest.

  “It’s about farming a certain type of plant. It’s a type of foliage that I’ve used in the shop before, but apparently it can be used as an alternate type of fuel. It’s called switch grass.”

  I watched Irwin carefully for his response. It didn’t take long for his nostrils to flare, his eyes to grow large, and his face and neck to turn as crimson as a red anemone.

  “He told her, too! That son-of-a-gun told me it was exclusive. Only a select group was to be involved.” Spittle collected in the corners of his mouth as he growled out his words. “How many others has he told? He gouged every one of us, making us think we were the only ones. I paid for the whole operation. He didn’t tell me about other investors.” He pointed a thick finger into his chest every time he mentioned himself.”

  Irwin looked down at his hands, “He sure got what was coming to him. Too bad I couldn’t do it earlier.” He still looked at his hands, which he balled into trembling fists.

  A sickening swell of anxiety expanded from my stomach up my esophagus. I gulped down what I could and forced myself to speak. His demeanor told me I shouldn’t ask what he should have done earlier.

  “Irwin, are you all right?” It was the only thing I could think to say. He was shaking all over and any part of his skin that wasn’t covered with clothing was red and sweaty.

  “I…Quincy, you have to go. I’m sorry, LaDonna’s not here you’ll have to call her.” He turned around and walked back to the office. He was surprisingly quick. His old man limp from my previous visit was not apparent.

  “Okay, bye,” I said to the space he used to occupy. I sprinted to my van. I didn’t know exactly what had just happened but it scared me to death. He had to have been talking about Derrick. I didn’t know if part of the rage was because it was JoAnne that I lied about talking to, or just that Derrick swindled him out of a lot of money. No matter why, he said he should have done it sooner. Whatever “it” was.

  ###

  K.C. arrived the next morning bright and early. I found her sitting in her car in the parking lot when I arrived at five minutes to nine.

  “Good morning, K.C.”

  “Mornin,’ Kid. Not much of an early riser huh?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Tell ya what. After I’ve worked here for a little while, if you see fit, you can give me a key and I’ll come in and clean up to get things started in the mornings. But only after I’ve earned your trust.” She winked at me and we made our way into the shop.

  I showed K.C. around, acquainted her with the cash register, basic phone skills, the cooler, delivery slips and procedures, and the fine art of bucket washing.

  Allie arrived soon after and she and K.C. exchanged pleasantries. I showed K.C. how we make arrangements and in what order things should be done.

  “Are you ready to go on your first delivery?” I asked.

  “Ready and reporting for duty, Boss.” She clicked her heels and saluted.

  We got into the van with K.C. in the driver’s seat. She carefully buckled up, adjusted the rearview and side mirror on her side and asked me to adjust the side mirror on the passenger side to her liking. The trustworthy van started right up and K.C. slowly edged us out of the parking lot.

  We drove to Flannery’s restaurant on the east side of town. I had a regular arrangement—pardon the pun—with the restaurant. My shop would put flowers on their front counter once a week, in exchange for referrals for weddings and special events, and the occasional free meal. Flannery’s was a lavish and high-end eatery. They specialized in seafood flown in every morning from the West Coast to ensure freshness. They bragged an extensive wine list, which took five years of applications before the Alcoholic Beverage Commission of the State of Utah approved a license. The commission consisted of a majority of Mormons, with a teetotaler Catholic thrown in just for show.

  Anyone who was anyone ate at Flannery’s. It was the one place in the city where I could use high style design techniques with products such as antheriums, Vanda orchids and twenty-dollar-a-stem peonies to my heart's content.

  The manager, Mickey Tanner, was at the counter. I usually made sure my driver got there before the lunchtime rush. It was great to take the delivery myself because I could catch up with all of the news I’d missed in the past month. Mickey was full of stories. Restaurants, salons and flower shops form the trifecta of sources for gossip in small towns.

  “Hey, Mickey I’d like you to meet K.C. She’s our new delivery driver.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you.” He shook her hand. “Gorgeous as usual, Quincy. And you too, K.C. The flowers aren’t bad either.” He laughed like he always did when he made that joke. Mickey is as gay as the day is long, and the joke was predictable, but flattering.

  “Quincy,” he lowered his voice and tipped his head indicating that K.C. and I should gather in closer, “did you hear about that awful Derrick from Artful Blooms?”

  Had I heard? He had no idea how intimately I knew the situation, but I wasn’t going to talk about my arrest in front of K.C.

  “I heard.”

  “Who are you talking about, and what happened to him?” K.C. whispered.

  I let Mickey tell the story. He didn’t leave out any feelings he may have felt toward Derrick. I’m sure Derrick had found a way to wrong Mickey in some way, just like everyone else he came in contact with.

  At the end of the recap, K.C. stood straight up and looked at me for a moment. There was a long pause, and I thought we had definitely offended her. Suddenly, she let loose with a gasping, chortling explosion of the heartiest laugh I had ever heard. She was slapping her knee and wiping away tears.

  “In a casket…with flowers!” she shouted amidst her guffaws. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

  I felt a new appreciation for my driver. She really understood things the way that she should.

  Mickey said, “Unfortunately he deserved to die in an unpleasant manner. He was a nasty little man. Well, not so little after the steroids,” he crossed the back of his hand in front of his face and placed it next to his mouth, as if he were sharing a secret. “I have it on good authority from Thomas that he’s been juicing up for quite a while now.” Thomas was Mickey’s life partner. “They go to the same gym. Or at least they did,” he said out of the corner of his mouth then winked at K.C. She giggled.

  “Does this man have any family?” K.C. asked.

  “He did,” I said “but they’ve moved out of state and disowned him as far as I know.”

  “Was he married?” she asked.

  Mickey spoke up. “No he wasn’t married, but he had a nice young beau on his arm for a few months. They used to come here together. They would get liquored up to the point we’d have to call a cab. But his friend always paid the bill, no problem. Derrick used to blab when he got tipsy, and talk about how the younger man fell into a bunch of money.”

  “His poor friend!” K.C. said with concern. “I bet he must be beside himself.”

  “Oh I don’t think so. I got the strong impression that they broke up. Rumor w
as, it was a bad one. At least it must have been for the friend. Derrick was in here not a full week after the last time I saw him with the boy toy, with Camille LeFay. They had their hands all over each other.”

  “Who is Camille LeFay?” K.C.'s eyes were wide open and she hung on every word.

  “Well I wouldn’t want to call anybody names. Let’s seeeee, how can I describe her?” He stroked his chin and looked upward, appearing to be thinking very hard. “The only words that come to mind are gold digger. She’s a pro…so to speak.” He mock coughed for emphasis after the innuendo. “She appears to be quite talented too. She’s been Landon Powell’s girlfriend, or escort or whatever she is, for at least a couple of years.”

  “The Landon Powell?” I asked.

  “The one and only,” he said. “About a month ago she was here every night of the week with either Gibbons or Powell.”

  “Who is Landon Powell?” K.C. asked, sounding confused.

  “Landon Powell is a state senator. He grew up here and his family owns a lot of land. He’s also a real estate developer, and what his family didn’t originally own of this town, he has acquired through many years of dealings. He is very powerful and very well connected.”

  Landon Powell had tried to strong-arm my maternal grandfather into selling his farmland, which would have given him enough area to get the city council to rezone it so he could build a shopping mega-destination. My grandfather wouldn’t sell and the deal fell through. Powell had resented my mom’s family ever since.

  “So let me get this straight,” K.C. said. “This man Derrick, whom I gather neither of you liked very much, ends up face planting it in the final flower bed. Before this happens he’s cavorting about town, first with a boy toy, and then with the mistress of some hoity-toity, too-big-for-his-britches politician. Have I got it right so far?” Mickey and I nodded. “Well all I can say is that this Derrick character must have had a pretty massive set of cojones.”

  “Except that the steroids must have shrunk them down to the size of pecans.” I quipped.

  “I have just one more question,” K.C. said. Was Derrick gay or not?”

  “Derrick was about as gay as my little sister with eight kids and one on the way,” Mickey said. “Honey, he tasted the wine but he wasn’t a connoisseur. Trust me, I know, I own the vineyard.”

  Mickey smiled wickedly when he saw K.C. blush and put her hand up to her mouth.

  “Mickey, as always you have been an informative and entertaining host. Now we need to be getting on our way. Thank you,” I said.

  “Anytime love. The flowers are magnificent by the way.”

  ###

  Once back at the shop Allie handed me the phone whispering, “It’s for you.”

  “This is Quincy,” I answered.

  “Hello, Quincy,” a soft, familiar voice responded. “This is LaDonna. I’ve called to offer an apology. I’m terribly embarrassed, but I heard about your recent visit and my husband’s awful behavior.”

  “Well, thank you LaDonna but you don’t owe me any apologies. I’m sure Irwin was just having a bad day.” Of course I was thinking to myself that Irwin, not his wife, owed the apology I but I wouldn’t say that to the poor woman.

  “Bad day or not, Quincy he shouldn’t have treated you like that. He’s a mean old grouch and I’m just about tired of having to apologize to our friends about the way he treats them. He just gets upset so fast.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

  “LaDonna, I’m kind of worried about you.”

  “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just a silly old woman. I cry when I see greeting card commercials on TV. Don’t worry about me.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. While I’ve got you on the phone, when can we meet so I can finish setting up your office?”

  We decided on a time later that evening. I hoped Irwin wouldn’t be there at the same time. His quickness to anger was looking like a bigger character flaw than at first glance. He had been so angry at just the mention of Derrick. Could he possibly have been angry enough to kill him?

  After I ended the call with LaDonna, I turned my attention to managing my shop. We had the big gala coming up at the convention center, and we didn’t need any last minute surprises.

  When the fresh product arrived in a few days, the shop would process, hydrate and compose beautiful designs with the flowers. We would become rich and famous from all the buzz generated by new customers who saw what we created for the gala and wanted the same thing for themselves. Or at least, that was the plan. Not too much to expect, right?

  K.C. was a huge help inventorying all the hardgoods for the big show, and she learned a lot of new terminology as she tried to locate all of the products on our master list for the event. She turned out the lights as I locked up for the night, and as she chirped out “see you tomorrow, Boss,” I thanked my lucky stars to have found such a gem at the hair salon, of all places. She had been truly reliable, and I had the gut feeling I could trust her from the start. Unfortunately I’d had the same feeling about Alex, and I was oh so wrong about him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The owner of Artful Blooms was not Derrick Gibbons, according to LaDonna Shaw.

  When I arrived at the Shaw’s flower shop after work, I was greeted by a very penitent Irwin. He apologized for getting so upset and taking his anger with Derrick out on me. As I worked on finishing all of the connections between their computer, their credit card terminal, point-of-sale system and their printer, they conversed and talked with me about their lives before being florists.

  “Mother and I used to cover a lot of territory in some of our old jobs,” Irwin said.

  “We never went on any fancy vacations when the kids were young, but we got to see a lot of country on pick-up and delivery trips.”

  “What did you deliver?” I asked.

  LaDonna interjected, “It sounds so crude to say it that way. We lived out in the rural areas in Southern Idaho, and in Arizona at one time. We would help the mortuaries transport the deceased.”

  “You transported dead bodies?”

  “It was a great service,” Irwin said. “In those rural areas, there might not be a mortuary around for hundreds of miles. So we started out working as transport for the mortuaries.”

  “How did you manage to heft the bodies?” I asked in amazement. “I mean, you both seem very strong, but a dead body is really heavy.” They both looked at me with surprise. “Or so I’ve heard.”

  “We had a specially outfitted vehicle with a hoist hooked to a winch, and we had the gurney and other equipment. Plus, the mortuary taught us how,” Irwin said.

  “He even got his own mortician’s license, didn’t you dear?” LaDonna smiled with pride at her husband.

  Irwin blushed and looked away. “Hey, Quincy,” he said, “there’s a plate of chocolate chip cookies over there. Why don’t you bring them over and we’ll eat a few?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Don’t you dare, Quincy,” LaDonna said sternly. “Irwin Shaw, you know you can’t eat those cookies with you sugar diabetes. They can’t regulate your insulin shots as it is.”

  “Oh, spoil sport.” Irwin frowned like a grouchy little kid.

  I tried to cut the tension in the air by talking. “Do you still do that kind of work?”

  “Oh, heavens no,” Irwin said. “That was years ago. We wouldn’t be able to do that kind of work now.”

  I had all but finished figuring out login methods and easily remembered passwords for the Shaws. I just needed to compile a list of things to teach them and they could handle the system on their own. It was getting late though; both of them had heavy eyelids and they yawned as if in competition with one another.

  “I think I should be on my way soon. I’ll come back one more time to train you both how to use this whole thing, and then you should be in business. How does that sound?”

  “Quincy, we can’t thank you enough.” Irwin said. “And I’m so sorry again about the other day.
It’s just that Derrick Gibbons caused a lot of heartache for our family. He’s one person that just got the better of me, and I have a hard time forgiving. Please excuse me.”

  Irwin cleared his throat, as he was obviously emotional. At that moment a question popped into my mind, and I thought to myself that any normal person would see that now was not the time to ask that certain question. But I was not a normal person. I was a person of interest in a murder investigation, and I was a person who needed more sales, so I decided to ask.

  “Irwin, I know this is probably not the right time to ask…there probably is no right time, but do you know who owns Artful Blooms?”

  “Well it’s not Derrick!” LaDonna burst out.

  “Mother, calm down. Derrick always acted like it was him that owned it, but when our son bought this store from him, we did some looking and found out Derrick wasn’t the owner of that other place.”

  “You mean Artful Blooms?” I asked.

  “Yes. I started talking to Derrick about what I thought was kind of fishy business, and then he distracted me with all of the talk about an investment opportunity. At first he was looking for investors to share equally in the profits of a switch grass farm. What with all of the green this and green that, recycling and bio-fuel I was hearing about in the news, I thought it wouldn’t be a bad investment. Except that it was with him. One night, he came to me while my son was away. He told me Bobby owed him a lot of money for this shop, and that he would tell everyone we knew about Bobby’s…condition.”

  “His condition?”

  “Oh," he swiped at his face and looked at the floor, "his messin' around with those…friends.”

  “Oh, right,” I said, wanting him to keep talking. LaDonna’s face twisted up and I knew she didn’t agree with Irwin’s attitude about their son.

  “Well I didn’t want him spreading the word around about Bobby, and I didn’t want him to tell Mother about it. She was already worried enough about our son and his health. So I made a deal with Gibbons. I agreed to be the primary investor in the new farm, if he would agree to sign a paper saying that Bobby wasn’t responsible for the debt from this flower shop." Irwin held his hands out, palms up, and the more he talked, the lower his arms dropped, as if he were physically trying to hold up the weight of his responsibilities.