African Violet Club Mystery Collection

by Elise M Stone

  “Yes, I have.” Ted was smiling. “I needed to let Esmeralda know that you might reach the cave in your exploring. Most of the time the fairies put a light glamour over the entrance so it isn’t discovered by accident, but you’re so persistent and discerning, I thought you might be able to see through the glamour.”

  “‘They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die. I’ll wink and couch; no man their works must eye,’” Lilliana quoted from The Merry Wives of Windsor. Realizing what the quote meant, she said with alarm, “I hope we won’t die.”

  Ted chuckled. “If it were death to speak to fairies, I’d be long gone.”

  Lilliana relaxed at the reassurance. Then she realized what Ted had said. “Fairies? Are there more than one?”

  “Yes, there are.” Esmeralda smiled at her. “We thought it would be best if you met me first. If anything untoward happened, the rest of my court would still be safe.”

  “I would never hurt you,” Lilliana said.

  “That’s clear now.” The queen of the fairies raised her voice and called out. “Come out, Goodly People, and meet our guest.”

  From behind the stalagmite where the queen sat, a fairy, this one arrayed in yellow, appeared and moved to the queen’s right. After her came another, a little man, dressed in green tights, who stood on the queen’s left. Another lady, dressed in cerulean blue, appeared and joined the fairy in yellow. Eventually there were a dozen fairies, six standing on either side of the queen, a cacophony of color amid the black and shades of gray of the cave.

  “How delightful!” Lilliana exclaimed. “I am so happy to meet you all.”

  The fairy court bowed to her in response.

  “But why are they living in a cave?” she asked Ted. “And how is it that no one but you has seen them?”

  “That’s not quite true,” Esmeralda said. “I believe you’ve seen Buidheag-an-t-Samhraidh, Buttercup you would call her.” She indicated the yellow fairy, who curtseyed and lowered her head.

  “So I wasn’t imagining things,” Lilliana said.

  Esmeralda smiled. “No, you weren’t. I had to warn Buidheag to be more careful when she goes outside.”

  Ted sighed. “It’s hard for them to find a place of safety in our modern age. In the old country—England, Scotland, and Ireland—they lived in the forests and sometimes beneath hills. I’m not sure how this band came to be in Arizona—even Esmeralda doesn’t know—but we have few forests, and the hills aren’t the soft loam of the British Isles. So when they found this cave with the stream nearby, it looked the most like home they’d seen in the New World.”

  Lilliana felt sad for the fairies and turned a commiserating gaze on Esmeralda.

  “Don’t feel sad for us,” Esmeralda said as if reading her mind. “This place is very beautiful. And we do get to go outside you know. We even visit some of you while you’re asleep.”

  “What...“ Lilliana began to say. She couldn’t believe the fairies dared to approach humans, even sleeping ones.

  Ted had a smile on his face. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed little gifts left for you?”

  She thought of her lost button and the wafers Willie found that suppressed his appetite. “Why, I suppose I have.”

  “The fairies like doing that. They also have a mischievous streak, so you might want to be careful with some of their gifts. One time they left me a pretty flower. I lifted it to my nose to smell it and couldn’t stop sneezing for hours.”

  The tinkle of fairy laughter filled the cave. Lilliana was glad they were too small to deliver items of real damage—say, a rat trap in place of her alarm clock.

  “Hallllloooooo.” The cry echoed down the cavern.

  “It sounds like the chief is getting tired of being alone,” Ted said. “We’d better get back to him before he tries to follow us here.”

  “You’re right,” Lilliana said. “It’s been wonderful meeting you, Your Majesty.”

  “And I, you,” Esmeralda said. “Please come back and visit.”

  “Oh, I will,” Lilliana said. “I’d love to come back with Ted to visit you.”

  “Good-bye, Esmeralda,” Ted said.

  The fairy queen gazed at him adoringly. “Good-bye, dear friend.”

  “About time you got back,” the chief groused. “What took you so long?”

  “We found some interesting formations to look at,” Lilliana said. “We lost track of the time.”

  “Well, it’s getting cold in here,” the chief said. “I’m ready to get back to the sunlight.”

  “I think we all are,” Ted agreed.

  The three of them made their way back to the cave exit without any further incidents. The chief navigated the narrow, wet trail easily this time. Despite all the beauty Lilliana had seen inside, she was relieved to emerge into daylight at the end of their trek.

  Cartwright sighed audibly as he stood up and attempted to brush the dirt and mud from his uniform. He made a face. “Guess I’m going to have to get this dry cleaned again.”

  “But wasn’t it worth it?” Lilliana asked.

  “I guess,” the chief said begrudgingly.

  “Why don’t we sit here for a minute?” Ted said. “I brought some sandwiches along. I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too.” The chief looked much more cheerful at the prospect of food.

  The three of them were already so dirty, no one objected to sitting on the ground by the bank of the stream. Ted pulled thick sandwiches from his pack and handed one to each of them.

  Much to her surprise, Lilliana was ravenous. She’d eaten half her sandwich before she paused and took note of her surroundings. Now that they had seen what Ted had been keeping secret, she understood his motivation to kill Bette. Kind of. She doubted she’d do the same, but was glad she hadn’t been forced to make the choice.

  “I suppose you’ll still have to arrest Ted,” she said regretfully. She didn’t want Ted to go to jail, perhaps face the death penalty, but murder couldn’t go unpunished.

  “That’s right,” Chief Cartwright said. “It appears I was wrong about you, Mrs. Wentworth.”

  She waved her hand, brushing away his concern. “Understandable under the circumstances. But next time, you might want to wait for all the evidence before you arrest someone.”

  The chief nodded.

  Ted was quiet. He hadn’t eaten much of his sandwich. From what Lilliana had seen before, this wasn’t like him. He raised a hand to his chest.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. Just a little heartburn is all.” He smiled wanly. “I should have brought some Rolaids with me.”

  Unlike Ted, the chief had finished all of his sandwich and was licking his fingers. While they’d eaten, the sun had slipped lower in the sky. Twilight was approaching. “Should we start back?” Lilliana asked.

  “Yep,” the chief said. “I’ve still got a lot of paperwork to do. And it looks like I’ll be driving into Bisbee after all, only not with you, Mrs. Wentworth.”

  The three of them rose and headed down the path leading back to town. Ted walked slower than he had all day. Although they’d certainly had their share of exercise exploring the cave, Lilliana had never seen him slow down before. His lips were tight, and every once in a while, he grimaced. She was worried about him.

  The sky was getting darker. The three of them reached Main Street just about the time of the evening rush hour. For a change, there were actually cars speeding down the road, commuters from Benson and Bisbee on their way home. Headlights appeared from the south, approached, then passed on up to the north and east residential areas. Lilliana paused at the edge of the road in an abundance of caution, waiting for the lights that had just appeared to pass. Cartwright waited beside her.

  For some reason, Ted didn’t wait. He dashed across Main Street as if there was some kind of emergency, a sprint when he’d been walking so slowly all the way back. When he reached the other side, he stopped and clutched
at his chest.

  Lilliana darted out ahead of an approaching car and raced toward him. Horns blared and tires squealed as cars swerved to avoid hitting her, but she didn’t care. Fear for Ted overrode any thought of safety. Before Lilliana could reach him, Ted collapsed to the ground.

  Running the last few feet, she arrived at Ted’s prostrate form. She crouched beside him, begged him to speak to her, tears cascading down her face. In seconds Cartwright caught up and knelt next to her. He took Ted’s pulse, then shook his head.

  “No!” Lilliana wailed. Moments ago, she’d been dismayed at the thought of Ted going to jail. She would have gladly traded jail for this horrible alternative. The warm, gentle man she’d only begun to know was dead.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Wentworth. It must have been a heart attack. Man of his age, and what he did, it’s not unusual.” He pulled out his phone and called for an ambulance. In less than fifteen minutes the volunteer crew of EMTs arrived at the scene, but there was nothing they could do except transport the body.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  OUT on her patio, Lilliana worked on repotting several of her African violets. Repotting them, watering them, grooming them, and generally caring for her plants eased her pain. In part she was proving to herself that she could keep things she held dear alive. A tear traced down her cheek.

  Chief Cartwright had decided that, with her as witness to Ted’s statement, he could close the case of Bette Tesselink’s murder. They agreed not to specify what the secret was she threatened to reveal. With the evidence Lilliana had gathered about her other blackmail victims, disclosing the secret hadn’t seemed necessary. Or wise.

  Lilliana had walked by Bette’s casita one day, found Miguel carrying out half-used cleaning supplies and toilet paper rolls and assorted linens, and dumping them in a cart to throw away. Susan had done the same thing most people did when they abandoned a rental property. She took away the things she thought of value, left behind those she didn’t care to keep.

  Recognizing the table cloths, Lilliana dug in among them as soon as Miguel turned his back. She found the japanned box, the one with the keyhole to match the size of the little key. She couldn’t wait to get the box back to her apartment and open it.

  Inside she found a small notebook. Each page had a name at the top, with a list of dates and dollar amounts beneath it. So many people had been Bette’s victims.

  Lilliana waited to make sure Cartwright closed the murder case, then tore out each page and put it through her shredder. She kept the box.

  She thought the chief would keep the secret of the cave, but she’d keep her ears open for any murmurs about it in town. And hoped no one would find out about the fairies.

  She put down the newest True Blue cultivar she’d started from a leaf of the original plant and hoped it would bloom true. You couldn’t always count on that. So many people had come to her wanting a True Blue African violet, whether because it was so pretty or because of the connection to Bette she didn’t know. She was sure she could sell as many as she could raise at the fall sale.

  She picked up the next pot and put a wet strand of yarn through the hole in the bottom of it before spooning in a layer of perlite. She added some loose, moist soil, then poked a small hole. Lilliana picked up the next leaf she’d gathered from the mature hybrid and sliced off the stem at an angle before putting it in the hole. After shaking the pot gently to settle the soil, she tamped it down oh-so-lightly to make sure the leaf would stay in place. One more done.

  She’d lost so many in her life over the past couple of years. Although she’d known Ted was ninety, he never acted like it. The man was so vigorous, always moving, stocking the grocery, walking between his home and the store.

  The ME confirmed that he’d had a heart attack. She’d seen no hint of a heart condition until their trip to the cave. Ted had been surprisingly healthy despite his age, but apparently not all his arteries shared that good health.

  She wondered what might have happened between them if Ted hadn’t died. There was no way to tell, of course, but she’d felt a connection from the first time they’d met. When he shared the secret only known to himself, she felt that connection deepen. Now she’d never know what might have been.

  She wondered who—if anyone—would take over Pulaski’s Gourmet Grocery. If it didn’t reopen, she would have to order her Earl Grey tea online—maybe from Amazon. There was irony in that thought. A very traditional, almost old-fashioned tea from the largest Internet retailer. And wherever would she get those chocolates Ted stocked near the cash register?

  She put the last pot down and rubbed her hands together to scrub off most of the dirt. There. Six more plants to sell. She picked up two of them to carry down to her guest bathroom to nurture.

  There wasn’t much room left in the bathroom. She’d started so many plants in the last week, tiny pots covered almost all the horizontal surfaces. She barely squeezed the two she was holding onto the shelf over the toilet tank.

  As she exited the bathroom, her eyes paused on the door across the hall. Crossing to it, she paused and placed her palm on the door, feeling for the presence she’d tried to preserve. She took a deep breath and opened it.

  The room was exactly the same as the day Charles died. The big hospital bed near the window so he could look outside. The get well cards on the dresser. Lilliana hadn’t been able to bring herself to even pack up Charles’s clothes. All of them hung in the closet.

  She’d been waiting to see if Charles was still here.

  She thought of how Frank had turned his bedroom into a plant room. This room was about the same size, and the window let in lots of light. She’d be able to have an indoor potting table. And grow lots more plants.

  She stood quiet, listening, breathing. Charles wasn’t here. He was with Ted and all the others who had passed on before. Had been for almost a year. Hopefully, they’d all be waiting for her when she joined them in heaven.

  Meanwhile, she had African violets to grow.

  Blood Red Murder

  Elise M. Stone

  CHAPTER ONE

  LILLIANA Wentworth steadied the cardboard flat filled with plants as she stepped into the lobby of the Rainbow Ranch Retirement Community. She’d brought six of her latest cultivar, one which she’d grown from leaves clipped from one of Frank’s hybrids that bloomed in an unusually bright red, with plans to give one to each of the members of the African Violet Club.

  She wondered if anyone new would show up. One of the reasons she’d agreed to organize the show and sale they’d held last month was the hope they’d attract more members. Frank’s flyers on the dining room tables hadn’t helped. Signs posted near the mailboxes hadn’t either. It seemed as if the elderly residents were too set in their ways to try something new.

  At least the African Violet Club membership was larger than that of the softball team she’d attempted to start. So far the team had a roster of one—Lilliana herself. After a single game, everyone else had dropped out, complaining of aching knees and backs and arms.

  She turned into the library and, surprised, skidded to a halt, grasping the flat so as not to drop it, shifting the box back and forth to offset inertia as several of the plants threatened to topple over. It looked as if the entire population of Rainbow Ranch had turned out for the meeting. In addition to the regulars, a slew of people she didn’t recognize filled most of the available space. If this kept up, they’d have to find a bigger room.

  “Lilliana!’ Frank Bellandini called out from the far end of the conference table at the center of the library. Several faces swiveled in her direction to see who had just entered. One odd-looking gentleman held his phone up and snapped her picture. Spots swam before her eyes after the flash. She shot him a nasty look. He shot her an insincere smile.

  Frank tapped the table to the left of where he sat, indicating he’d saved her a place next to him. A good thing, since while the table could seat twelve, there were a lot more than that already present. She edged her way
through the milling crowd until she reached the head of the table and gratefully set down the flat. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Frank straightened his glasses, which had a habit of tilting off to one side and ran a hand through the few remaining hairs on his head. “It looks like we drummed up some interest with the show. It just took a little longer than we thought it would.”

  “Or they’re all a bunch of ghouls.” Lilliana thought that more likely. After she’d solved the murder of Bette Tesselink, people had treated her like a celebrity instead of a retired librarian, deferring to her when choosing tables in the dining room and asking her all sorts of silly questions. She pursed her lips.

  “Whatever the reason, I’m glad they came.” Frank lifted a satchel onto the table and started taking his tools out, laying them out in an orderly row on a couple of layers of newspaper. “I rehearsed my talk on Tools of the Trade for an hour last night. Hate to see all that rehearsal go to waste.”

  Frank was the most expert grower in the club. While she had only started to grow African violets seriously since moving to Rainbow Ranch, and was new to creating hybrids of her own, Frank had been growing for years and won several major competitions.

  Lilliana surveyed the display. A couple of small brushes for removing soil from the leaves, an XActo knife for making cuttings, a magnifying glass to look for pests, a nut pick, and an ice pick with a well-worn wooden handle came out of the satchel, followed by spoons in various sizes and a small trowel. He laid several small plastic bags with various substances in them in a neat row above the tools.

  “Good morning!” The deep voice of Willie O’Mara boomed from behind her. She turned to greet her friend.

  Willie, a large black man, hunched over a walker that looked as if it were straining under the weight. An attractive black woman with snow-white hair stood beside him, dwarfed in comparison. Like most women their age, she had wrinkles around her eyes and her eyelids were a bit puffy. She wore a pale yellow dress and a tentative smile.