The Final Arrangement

by Annie Adams

  K.C. flipped the towel over her shoulder. “He would have crowed like the cock in a hen house to someone.” I waited for her to put her hands on her hips again and crow. She refrained.

  “Right. But we also know from what Mickey at the restaurant told us, that Derrick was dating Camille LeFay at one point, who was a mistress to Landon Powell. Why would Derrick, who had previously been dating the Shaw’s son, suddenly want to date the mistress of a very powerful man who must have a huge ego, and huge connections?”

  “We’re back to blackmail aren’t we?”

  “Yes, I think we are,” I said. “Derrick knew Powell’s wife was sleeping with Doug. He knew how much this would embarrass the mortuary, who probably wanted to keep good relations going with the guy who could make influential real estate deals including the space for a new cemetery. He got a new flower shop with guaranteed customer business in trade for him not going to Landon Powell with his findings.”

  “Boss, you’re one smart cookie.”

  “I don’t know how smart. I can’t figure out why Derrick would risk the sweet little business arrangement of his by dating Landon Powell’s mistress. You’d think he’d want to lay low and make some money.”

  “Unless he was completely crazy,” K.C. said. “Or…unless there was a bigger whale to fry.”

  “Yeah. I think I know who that whale is—I just need to figure out for sure why Derrick and Doug would risk messing with him.”

  The bells sounded on the front door. A seventy-ish year old woman came in. "Hi, how can I help you?" I asked her as I approached from behind the counter.

  "I'm just looking!" She shouted at me.

  "Okay, well feel free to let me know if you have any questions." I said politely then retreated to the design room.

  "I don't know; I don't see anything I like." She waited until I had reached the back counter to start talking.

  I rolled my eyes, then painted a smile on my face and turned to go back to her.

  "Can I help you to find something, or would you like to look at some pictures?"

  "Well I don't know how else I'm supposed to order anything."

  Great. I took a deep breath and walked over to the table with the big selection books from the wire-service companies with photographs of flower arrangements in them.

  "What's the occasion?" I asked in a sweet as molasses voice.

  "I need a funeral arrangement for my neighbor. We took up a collection from forty people in the ward and we want it to be nice."

  "Okay, let's look at some of these pictures and see if there is something you like."

  I opened the book and we looked at the pictures. All the photographs of arrangements had price stickers below them.

  "How big is this one here?" The woman asked.

  "It's approximately 24 inches high and 18 inches wide." I explained, even though the dimensions were printed next to the picture.

  "Is that a nice one? I don't want to send something small, I want it to look, well, you know."

  What she meant to say is that she wanted it to look big. She wanted it to look bigger and fuller than everyone else’s, but she didn't want to pay more than everyone else.

  "How much will twenty-five dollars get us?" she asked.

  I showed her a very small planter that cost twenty-five dollars.

  "Is that all?" she said incredulously. "How about this one, I like this, how much would it be?" she asked, pointing to a large picture in the book.

  "That floral spray would be two hundred dollars." I told her nicely, even though she was pointing right at the price with her index finger. I could tell by her grimace she thought the price was too high.

  "How about this," I said, "since you took a collection, tell me how much you have and I'll make something that looks similar for whatever amount you collected. It might be smaller in size, but we'll use the same colors and shapes of flowers."

  "I've collected thirty-five dollars." Interesting, she collected from forty people and only came up with thirty-five dollars.

  "Okay then, we'll make a spray for thirty-five dollars. What day will you need it for?"

  "Well the viewing is on Sunday, the funeral is on Monday. Will you get it there on Sunday?"

  "Yes we can get it there on Sunday for the viewing."

  "Now I don't want you making this ahead and delivering it on Saturday, I want the flowers to be fresh." Of course, none of the wholesalers are open Saturday, so no matter which day the flowers were actually put into a container, they would be the same age, and would have been sitting in the cooler for the same amount of time as the flowers I didn't use. But it would be a waste of time for me to try and explain.

  "I would be happy to deliver these flowers on Sunday afternoon for you," I said sweetly.

  "Oh, I forgot. How does that work?"

  "How does what work?" I plastered the most patient look on my face that I could come up with.

  "I'm sure you don't work on Sunday, so how will you get the flowers there?"

  "I'll have to come in and make them and then deliver them on Sunday," I said.

  "Oh, no. I'll not have flowers from the ward being made on the Sabbath," she shut her eyes and set her lower jaw.

  "Well ma'am, if I don't make them on Sunday, I'll need to make them on Saturday, which you asked me not to do."

  "Oh. I suppose if you make them up on Saturday, late on Saturday evening, but then you'll be working on Sunday by driving. And I simply won't pay for something that will break the Sabbath day, I won't."

  "How about this? I won't charge you for delivery, and I'll make the flowers on Saturday. When I come down to the shop on Sunday to pick up my newspaper, I'll just run in and grab the flowers and take them to the mortuary on my way home."

  "I suppose that would work. But if anyone were to ask, you wouldn't tell them you delivered them on Sunday?"

  "My lips are sealed."

  "All right then."

  We finally finished the transaction and I pulled the money from her cheapskate grip of steel and put it into the cash register. I watched the customer walk all the way out to her car before I turned to K.C.

  "Can you believe that?"

  "Oh I can believe it. I went to high school with that shrew."

  "Why didn't you come out and talk to her? You could have rescued me."

  "Heck, as soon as I saw her get out of her car, I hid. That old hypocrite. I could hear her telling you not to break the Sabbath on her account. That woman nearly runs me over every Sunday after church when she drives down to the grocery store to buy things for Sunday dinner."

  "Speaking of hypocrites," I said, "I keep thinking about Landon Powell."

  "What about him?" K.C. asked.

  “We know he’s got a girlfriend on the side.”

  “He’s a politician, what do you expect?”

  “He’s also one of the higher ups in the church.”

  “Nothing new about that either, Boss. People can behave badly, make mistakes…sin, even, at every level of the human hierarchy.”

  “There’s something missing. What’s the connection between Powell and Derrick?”

  “Oh Boss, don’t make me be vulgar. The connection is the woman between them. Well I don’t literally mean between them. I couldn’t assume that they were into that kind of kinky stuff. Anyway what I’m trying to say is they both dated the same girl.”

  “Yeah, what does Camille LeFay have to do with all this? And why would Derrick risk everything and switch from a boyfriend to a girlfriend under such suspicious timing?”

  My cell phone interrupted our musings. I answered and couldn't hear anyone on the other end.

  "Hello? Helloow!" I said impatiently.

  A whisper voice replied, "Quincy, can you hear me?"

  "Allie? Where are you?"

  She whispered again, "I'm at Brad's condo."

  "Allie, why are you whispering?" I was afraid to ask, because I knew the answer.

  "You were right, Quincy," her voice sounded on the
verge of crying, but there was too much fear present for her to give in, "he hasn't changed."

  "Is he there in the house?"

  "No he said he was leaving for 15 minutes. He has my car keys. He doesn't know I have this phone. I haven't used it since we've been back together. I hid it just in case."

  Deep in her heart she’d known he wouldn't change.

  "I'm coming to get you. Try to go to a safe place and barricade yourself in."

  "He said he was going down to the store for a minute. But he said not to try anything stupid like leaving because he would catch me."

  "I'll be right there."

  I turned to K.C., "It's Allie. Her boyfriend has beaten her up again. You stay here while I go and get her."

  "Hold on, Boss. I'm not sitting here while you go running head on like a bull with a bee-sting at a wife-beater. I'm coming with you. I know a thing or two about his type. My husband never laid a hand on me, but his brother used to go after his own wife, until we showed up one day and surprised him. After that my husband made sure I knew how to take care of myself." She hurried over and grabbed her purse. "I'll drive, you just give me directions and get yourself ready."

  "Okay," I said with uncertainty.

  We hustled out and I locked the door behind us.

  ###

  When we got into K.C.'s car she opened the glove box and reached in. Her hand came out with a little canister. "Here, take this and use it when the time comes." I took it from her and read while she started the car and tore out of the parking lot.

  It was a can of pepper spray. I had the feeling things were going to get ugly.

  "How will I know when the time has come?" I held the can carefully, afraid it would spray me.

  "Oh, you'll know. Trust me, and yourself."

  K.C. and I arrived at the gate in front of the "community" of condominiums where Brad lived. We had to stop at the guard shack and tell him why we were there. I hadn't thought about this before we left my store.

  "Afternoon, how can I help you ladies?" said the guard.

  My heart jumped into my throat, I'm not a good liar and all I could think to say was, We’re here to rescue my sister from the jerk that lives here. But that probably wouldn't get us through the gates. We could ram through I supposed.

  K.C. piped up without missing a beat. "We're here to visit my granddaughter Allie McKay. She's staying here with her boyfriend..."

  "Brad" I whispered.

  "Brad. You'll have to excuse me, I'm used to her calling him Sweetie all of the time. I guess you don't have a Sweetie that lives here do you?" She smiled coyly at the guard.

  He blushed and chuckled. "Not that I know of, but I know who you're talking about. I don't call him Sweetie though."

  K.C. and I laughed along with him.

  "Go on ahead. Have a nice day ladies." With that he waved and we waved and the automated gate slowly started to swing open.

  We pulled up to the condo and as I went to open the door, K.C. grabbed my arm.

  "Wait!"

  "C'mon, K.C. we've got to go while Brad is gone."

  "Just hold your horses. I need you to reach into the back and grab the Enforcer for me. It hurts my bursitis to reach over the seat like that."

  "The what?"

  "Just reach down on the floor there behind the seat."

  I thought it was a strange time to go searching around in the car, but I reached down and lifted up a Louisville Slugger.

  "The Enforcer?" I asked.

  "Do you think I would go on those out of town field trips on the bus without protection? This has been my constant companion for years."

  "I am not rushing into that house toting a baseball bat. I just want to get my sister and get out of here."

  "Suit yourself, Boss. But I'm bringing my old pal."

  "Fine."

  We went up to the door and knocked. No one answered for what felt like forever. Just as I started to think about what to do next, the bolt on the door opened and Allie peeked out.

  "C'mon, Allie lets go," I said.

  She stood there not saying anything, her eyes were huge and she stared at me strangely.

  "Allie! Come on."

  The door swung open. Brad stood behind Allie. He must have left her car somewhere else, because it wasn’t in the driveway or anywhere near the house when we pulled up.

  "Quincy, this is a surprise visit. We weren't expecting you," Brad said.

  "I'm sorry we didn't call ahead,” I said. “K.C. and I just wanted to take Allie out shopping with us on the spur of the moment."

  "Gosh, well we're busy, so it'll have to be some other time."

  "We can't..." I wanted to say something to stall but couldn't think of anything.

  "We can't wait to see your place," K.C. blurted out. "Allie has told us all about it."

  "She has?" He wasn't buying.

  K.C. pushed past me and I could see she had stuffed the bat into the back of her pants, down one leg. The little handle peeked up above the waistband of her comfort stretch jeans.

  "Oh yes! Once I saw you drive up with that fancy car of yours to drop Allie off at work, I thought to myself, this man has got some taste. I bet that car was expensive." K.C. knew exactly where this man’s motivation came from.

  "Yeah, it was very expensive," Brad said, as if he had been complimented.

  "You know, my grandson has one just like it, and it was ex...pen...sive! It cost a pretty penny."

  He closed his eyes and a crooked smirk checked one side of his face. "I don't think so, I had it specially made. Nobody has one just like it."

  "Oh, really?" K.C. sounded like a doting grandmother, enchanted by his every word. "Is this it in this picture here?" She reached for a framed photo from the sideboard table just inside the door. She had worked her way inside the house without Brad realizing what she was doing.

  "Don't touch that!" Brad yelled, then left the doorway and rushed over to the table. "I mean, yeah that's me with the car." Brad let go of Allie to make sure K.C. didn't touch his prized possession.

  Before I knew what was happening, K.C. slid the bat out of her pants. Bursitis my ass.

  "Run Allie!" K.C. yelled.

  Brad wheeled around and looked up just in time to see Allie's back as she ran out the door. He lunged toward us and I felt the swish of air as the bat swung past my ear and landed in the middle of Brad's left rib cage. I thought I heard a crackling noise. K.C. had swung that bat like it was full-count in the bottom of the ninth. Brad collapsed to the floor.

  K.C. ran out the door and I followed. The bat hung from K.C.'s right hand and as I leapt down the first step, the bat and my back leg crossed paths. I fell sideways off the stairs, about four feet to the ground. K.C. kept running.

  My back hit the flowerbed, knocking all of the air out of me. I tried to get up but I couldn't breathe. I gulped and wheezed, willing myself not to panic while it felt as if I might die of asphyxiation. I could see Brad above me looking out the door. His eyes flashed with rage as he watched K.C. and Allie get away. Then he looked down and saw me.

  He came down the stairs, crouched next to me and spoke very calmly. I expected him to drag me by the hair up the stairs, but then I was reminded by memories from the past about what would happen next. He needed to keep up appearances in the neighborhood. The pain wouldn’t happen until we were inside. I was furious and petrified at the same time. I had to think of a way out of the situation, but my brain was frozen along with the rest of my body.

  “You stupid bitch. You don’t know what a huge mistake you’ve made,” he hissed, quietly, through gritted teeth. “You’re going to get up, and we’re going to walk into the house just as nice as can be. Don’t even think about making a sound. Do you understand?”

  I nodded then slowly got up, barely having found enough air to breathe again. I felt the pain of the impact setting into all of my joints as we walked up the stairs. Brad pretended to assist me by holding my forearm and resting a stabilizing hand on my shoulder. In
reality he was squeezing hard enough that his fingers seemed to be digging into my bones.

  “You think its okay to make me look bad?” he yelled once we were inside with the door closed. He shoved me toward the coffee table. I hit my shins on the edge and fell forward onto the couch.

  “You don’t need any help looking bad, you’ve got that covered on your own,” I said.

  “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me,” I said.

  "You just don't get it. I gave you plenty of warnings to stay out of our business, but you didn't pay attention."

  "You mean the fires."

  He said nothing, but the self-satisfied grin on his face told me I was right. My previous experience had taught me that when in this situation, the best thing to do did not involve adding fuel to the fire. I ignored experience. Bad idea.

  I stood up gingerly and tried to make my way to the door.

  “Sit down! Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m leaving. I don’t want to be here and you can’t keep me here.”

  “Oh yeah? You know, you’re just as stupid as that sister of yours. You’re not going anywhere.” He slid in front of me and blocked the front door with his body.

  “Get out of my way Brad.” I tried to push him out of the way and unintentionally pushed on his torso, probably where the bat had hit. I don’t remember what happened after that.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I could hear my name echoing in the distance. Everything was warm and dark around me. I heard the same lyrics to a song repeating over and over but I couldn’t tell just what the words were.

  “Quincy! Wake up. Can you hear me?”

  I opened my eyes and the brightness made them water and slam shut. They weren’t open very long, but long enough to make the insides of my skull whirl around like I was on a ride at the amusement park.

  “Quincy, c’mon, wake up.” I recognized the voice. It was a voice that made me want to open my eyes again even though I knew it would hurt.

  I barely opened them in a squint and in the center of the gauzy edges I saw a beautifully shaped pair of lips saying my name, and then a strong cleft chin under those lips. So I opened my eyes a little more and saw two warm brown eyes looking at me.