African Violet Club Mystery Collection

by Elise M Stone

  Nancy glanced at Lilliana before speaking. “Well, I’m sure everyone saw what I did. We were all watching Frank as he repotted that horrible plant Sarah brought. When Ruby cried out, then everyone looked at Ruby.”

  “And what did you see?”

  “Blood. And the ice pick.” Nancy pursed her lips again.

  The chief wrote on his pad. Lilliana wondered why, since everyone had seen the blood and the ice pick. She wondered how many times he was going to write down those words today. Fortunately, he asked another question. “Who was standing near Mrs. Robinson?”

  “Why, I’m not sure I know. There was Willie, of course, only he wasn’t standing. He was sitting in a chair, because of his hip, you know. Lenny was standing next to me. I think Sarah was standing on the other side of Frank, not too far from Ruby. Then some other people I didn’t know. We hadn’t gotten to the part where the new people tell us who they are and why they came to the meeting.”

  “Did you see any of them do anything suspicious?” Cartwright asked after noting what Nancy had said.

  “Well, no. I told you. I was watching Frank so I wouldn’t miss anything. I had no interest in looking at Ruby.” Nancy wrinkled her nose.

  “Why did you pull the ice pick out?” Cartwright’s voice was accusing as he asked the question.

  “It didn’t belong there. It had to hurt, and I thought I should take it out and maybe Ruby would feel better.” Nancy looked confused for a minute. “But she didn’t. All that blood started coming out, and I knew it was a mistake right away, but I couldn’t very well stick it back in her, could I?”

  Lilliana’s stomach churned, and a bubble of acid rose in her throat. The thought of Nancy putting the ice pick back in Ruby’s side was too horrible to contemplate.

  Nancy’s eyes glistened with tears, and the muscles of her face quivered as she tried to hold them back. Nancy often got confused, said odd things, funny things that made Lilliana laugh, but she couldn’t imagine her doing anything vicious. Certainly not anything as vicious as stabbing a person. Besides, how could she have a motive? Lilliana stepped in. “Chief Cartwright, I don’t think we need to ask Mrs. Gardner any more questions. She didn’t even know the victim.”

  “That’s not true,” Nancy said.

  Lilliana jerked her eyes back to Nancy.

  “We all knew her. Willie brought her to dinner a few days ago and introduced her. You weren’t there.” The last sentence sounded like an accusation.

  Lilliana tried to remember when she hadn’t gone to dinner this past week. Then it dawned on her. It must have been Tuesday. Lilliana had gotten so involved in reading one of Elizabeth George’s mysteries, she’d forgotten about eating. She loved the Inspector Lynley novels. Some time around midnight, she’d finished the book and realized she was hungry. She’d obviously missed dinner in the dining room, so she’d made a can of soup in her apartment.

  “Ah ha!” Cartwright looked like he’d found the combination to a safe filled with bearer bonds. “Who else was at that dinner?”

  Nancy twisted the ring on her right hand while she thought about the question. “Well, let me see. Willie and Ruby—and I think Mary was there, too. Maybe Lenny.” She looked puzzled, almost tortured. “It’s hard to remember. Mostly I eat with the same people every night. Sometimes Lilliana comes. Sometimes it’s just me and the Higginses. I don’t think they were there the night Willie brought Ruby. But they might have been.”

  “Which night was that?” Lilliana asked. She wanted to make sure it matched up with her recollection.

  “I’m pretty sure it was Tuesday,” Nancy said. “I remember because that’s the day I made my special applesauce recipe. When Ruby said she had trouble with constipation, I told her I’d bring some to her apartment. ‘An apple a day keeps the doctor away.’” She recited the old adage in a sing-song voice and smiled, proud of herself.

  “And did you?” the chief asked.

  Lilliana didn’t see what Nancy’s applesauce had to do with anything. Other than the chance that anyone who ate it might have regretted doing so.

  “Of course I did,” Nancy asserted. “I always bring people things I make. Like the cupcakes I brought to the meeting. I’ve been experimenting with the applesauce recipe lately. I added persimmons and celery salt in addition to the raisins I usually put in.”

  Lilliana’s mouth puckered at the mention of persimmons. The first time she’d had one, she hadn’t realized it had to be very ripe and soft so it didn’t taste bitter. She wondered if Nancy had used ripe ones, or if they’d still been firm. Knowing Nancy, ripeness wasn’t guaranteed.

  “I brought her a nice, big jar and told her she should have a cup of applesauce with every meal. I never have problems with constipation.”

  The chief looked uncomfortable with all this talk of bodily functions. It was one of the most popular topics of conversation at the retirement home, probably because lots of bodies had ceased to function in a dependable manner. The residents were always exchanging supposed cures and recommendations for fixing their ills. Most of them didn’t work. The only real cure was to be younger, and that wasn’t going to happen.

  “So you were friends,” the chief said.

  “I wouldn’t exactly say friends...” Nancy frowned, then smiled and added, “Lilliana is my friend. Maybe Ruby would have been a friend, but I’ll never know that now.”

  “Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Chief Cartwright asked.

  “About what?”

  Lilliana tried very hard to keep from laughing, but her lips kept twitching at the corners. “About the murder—or Ruby, Nancy.”

  “Oh. I don’t know anything else. I mean, I know lots of things. Just not about Ruby.” Nancy smiled widely, pleased to have found an appropriate answer.

  “I think she can go now, can’t she, Chief?” Lilliana said.

  “I suppose so.” He shrugged and sighed, conceding further questioning of Nancy Gardner would probably be pointless. “Please don’t discuss what you’ve told us with anyone else.”

  Ha! thought Lilliana. As if the murder wouldn’t be the topic of conversation in the retirement home for days, if not weeks.

  Nancy rose to her feet, looked first at the chief, then uncertainly at Lilliana, who nodded encouragement. Nancy left the room, shaking her head.

  “At this rate, we’ll still be questioning people in the middle of next week,” Chief Cartwright said. “I hope our next witness isn’t as confused as Mrs. Gardner.”

  Lilliana wondered if the chief had noticed Nancy’s story didn’t exactly match Willie’s version of the scene in the dining room. Willie told them he’d run into Ruby. According to Nancy, he’d brought her with him. A minor detail, but whose version was correct? She tended to think Nancy was confused, but she’d given them more details than Willie had.

  “Why don’t we bring in Sarah Higgins next?” Lilliana said. “She might be approaching ninety, but her mind is still sharp.”

  “I hope so.” Chief Cartwright rose from his seat, left the room for a few minutes, and returned with Sarah.

  Sarah was petite, with her white hair in a curly bouffant style that she had done at the hair salon in town twice a week. Secretly, Lilliana suspected it was as much to get away from her husband, Bob, as to have her hair styled. Sarah wore a purple muumuu that hung loosely on her tiny frame. The frown she wore eased when she spotted Lilliana.

  “Are you okay, Sarah?” Lilliana asked.

  “I’m not sure anyone’s okay after what happened to Ruby,” Sarah said. She sat in the chair opposite Lilliana and leaned closer. “What was Willie doing anyway, bringing her to our meeting? He doesn’t raise African violets.”

  “Mrs. Higgins,” Cartwright said. “I have some questions to ask you.”

  Sarah sat up, wrinkled her nose, and looked at him as if he smelled like skunk. “Go ahead, then.”

  Cartwright asked her the same questions he’d asked Nancy, with even more disappointing results. The first time Sarah
had seen Ruby was when she came to the meeting. She hadn’t seen who stabbed her with the ice pick. Nor had she made her any applesauce or cupcakes.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Higgins. Please tell Mr. Ellison to send the next person in,” Cartwright said.

  The sun was setting by the time Lilliana and Chief Cartwright had gone through all the people who had attended the African Violet Club meeting. Their stories were very similar. No one knew her at all well, they were watching Frank repot the plant and hadn’t seen anything, and wasn’t it awful what happened to her.

  “That’s the last of them,” Russ Ellison said from the doorway after Lenny left the room. “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Ellison,” Cartwright said.

  “Is it okay if I have Shirley clean out Mrs. Robinson’s apartment?” Ellison asked. “I’d like to be able to show it over the weekend.”

  “Her apartment?”

  How could the chief even hesitate over the answer to that question? There might be all kinds of clues in Ruby’s apartment that would be destroyed with cleaning. “I think we need to look for evidence there before Shirley cleans it out,” Lilliana said.

  “Oh, right.” The chief was tired. Usually the most strenuous activity of his day was handing out parking tickets. He wasn’t used to homicide investigations.

  Lilliana had an awful thought. “Did you seal off Ruby Robinson’s apartment with crime scene tape while I was changing?”

  Dismay suffused Cartwright’s face. “No. No, I didn’t.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RUSSELL Ellison fumbled with the key while Lilliana and the chief waited for him to unlock Ruby’s apartment. The fact that it was locked seemed to indicate that no one had entered it, but that wasn’t a foolproof assumption. Shirley, the housekeeper, had a set of keys so she could get into every apartment and clean it even if the occupant wasn’t home, or if they were unable to get up to answer the door themselves, or too confused to respond to her knock. Ellison, of course, had a master key. Were there any others?

  “Mr. Ellison,” Lilliana said to get his attention.

  The owner of the retirement home had finally gotten his key to turn in the lock. He pushed the door open before responding to Lilliana. “Yes, Mrs. Wentworth?”

  “How many people have keys to get into this apartment?”

  He looked surprised. “Why, I do and Shirley. Kirstie can take my key any time it’s necessary. And Mrs. Robinson’s daughter took a key, I believe.”

  “She had a daughter?” Willie hadn’t mentioned that. Of course, there hadn’t exactly been time for much conversation.

  Ellison nodded. “She came with Mrs. Robinson when she signed the papers. I think she also came to visit the day after she moved in.”

  Cartwright took out his pen and notebook again. “What is the daughter’s name?”

  Ellison scratched his head. “Coretta something. A Hispanic name. I’m sure she’s listed as next-of-kin on Mrs. Robinson’s application.”

  “I’ll need a copy of that,” the chief said.

  “I’ll have Beverly make one for you before you leave.”

  Impatient with all this chit-chat, Lilliana pushed past the men and went inside.

  “Wait just a minute, Mrs. Wentworth,” the chief said. “We don’t want to contaminate any evidence.”

  “I know better than to touch anything,” Lilliana replied. But it reminded her of something. “Don’t you have any of those latex gloves we can put on so we don’t leave fingerprints?”

  Chagrined, Cartwright shook his head. “I didn’t think to bring any in. I’ll have to go back to my vehicle to get a pair.”

  “Two pair,” Lilliana said. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of having been inside Ruby’s apartment before.”

  “Two pair,” Cartwright agreed and turned to go.

  Ellison spoke up. “I can get some from Kirstie. It will be faster than going back to your SUV.” He took out his cell phone and punched a series of numbers on the screen. When Kirstie answered, he told her what they needed. “She’ll be right up.”

  Lilliana looked around the section of the apartment she could see from the doorway while they waited. Ruby Robinson was apparently fond of red. The drainboard and canisters in the kitchenette to her right were red. An apple cookie jar sat on the counter. And, in the part of the living room visible ahead of her, a large red armchair with a gold pattern took up most of the far corner. Everything looked clean, but of course that was to be expected since Ruby had just moved in. And Shirley made sure every resident’s home stayed spick and span. Lilliana tapped her foot, eager to go inside and see what she could find.

  At last Kirstie arrived carrying a box of latex gloves. Mediums. Lilliana took a pair and slid them on her hands. Cartwright struggled a little to get a pair over his, but succeeded without tearing them. Ellison, while not a terribly large man, did have large hands. He’d managed to get the tips of the fingers of his left hand inside a glove, but pulling it up any further was impossible.

  “You’re going to have to stay outside,” Cartwright said.

  “I’ll wait for you in my office. Just lock up when you’re done.” He handed the key over to Cartwright with a glum look, then headed for the elevator.

  Lilliana charged inside, eager to see if there were any clues.

  “Lilliana,” Cartwright barked. He rarely called her by her first name, and it reminded her of when her mother used to use her full name to indicate her displeasure. Lilliana halted. The chief scowled. “Please do not disturb anything until I’ve had a chance to properly search the premises,” he ordered.

  Cops always talked in stuffy code words. Who called them “premises” anymore? “What are you going to search for?” she asked.

  Cartwright frowned and looked around him. “Something incriminating. A threatening letter. Ummm...”

  Just as she thought. The police chief had no idea what he was looking for. Of course, neither did she. Without knowing the victim, it was hard to say what might have triggered someone to kill her. But Lilliana didn’t want to antagonize the police chief. “I suppose it would be all right if I just looked around? I promise I won’t open any drawers or cabinets or disturb anything.”

  “I suppose that would be okay.” He didn’t look too sure about that.

  “Why don’t you look in her closet and bedroom.” Lilliana pointed down the very short hall to her left. She’d recognized the layout as one of the small one-bedroom units at Rainbow Ranch. “I’ll just take a look around the kitchen and living room.”

  The chief nodded and turned left. He didn’t have to take much more than a single step to reach the hall closet door, which he opened. Lilliana caught a glance of a closet stuffed with clothes and shoes. Apparently Ruby liked apparel. Another thing Lilliana wasn’t too concerned with. Of course, she liked a neat appearance, would never wear something worn or torn, but she also didn’t see the point in having more clothes than she could go through in a month. She’d rather spend that money on African violets.

  Leaving the chief to explore the bedroom, Lilliana turned right into the tiny kitchen. Since she’d promised not to open cabinets or drawers, it wouldn’t take her very long to see what was in it. She flipped on the light. The apartments were old-style, built on either side of a hall that ran the length of the building, which meant there were only windows on one wall. The kitchen, being closest to the center of the building, had hardly any natural light.

  In addition to the dish drainer and canisters she’d noticed before, a small lazy Susan took up a good part of the countertop. Lilliana decided to take a closer look. The largest item was a 320-count bottle of Aleve. Lilliana was a major user of Aleve herself. She wondered if Ruby, too, suffered from arthritis, or whether it was something else—like headaches. With that size bottle, it must be a chronic condition requiring daily doses. Lilliana herself tried not to take more than one pill a day, not even one if possible, but on days she played softball, her knees required some relie
f. There were also supplements on the lazy Susan: calcium, a multi-vitamin, cranberry, and valerian. Only two prescriptions for medications Lilliana didn’t recognize. She’d have to ask Kirstie what they were for.

  Not finding anything of interest, she turned around to leave the room, hoping the living room would be more fruitful. On the short wall facing the refrigerator hung a calendar, one of those sent out by insurance agents and banks at the end of the year. Several days had notations on them. Ruby had marked the times the retirement community held bingo and canasta, as well as the yoga classes and Zumba sessions. And, of course, the gospel music hour that Willie had talked about. It appeared as if Ruby had been prepared to jump into the social life at Rainbow Ranch with a vengeance.

  Lilliana was about to turn away when she noticed something else. The calendar entries started two weeks ago, not this week, when Willie had said Ruby moved into the retirement home. That meant there might have been more people who knew her than they’d originally thought. She’d have to point out the calendar to the Chief.

  The red theme was carried out in the living room with a sofa that matched the armchair Lilliana had seen from the entrance. Over the sofa was a painting of a bullfighter—more red—with a gold frame. Lilliana wondered if the painting had been chosen for the subject or the color.

  At either end of the sofa stood an end table made of a light wood; a lamp stood on each one. Fortunately, Ruby had not chosen lamps with red shades, just a more unusual ivory, and so avoided having the room look totally as if it belonged in a bordello.

  Each table displayed an assortment of photographs in matching frames, and Lilliana was immediately drawn to these. People who knew the murder victim were the most likely suspects. After all, a stranger would have little reason to kill her.

  Prominently displayed was a picture of Ruby standing beside a younger woman with a café-au-lait complexion; the daughter, Lilliana supposed. It must have been a happy occasion, since both were smiling, and the smiles weren’t the forced ones people often wore when the photographer said “Cheese!” She doubted the daughter would be smiling once she was informed of her mother’s death. Empathy brought a gray mood to Lilliana’s soul. Losing a loved one made you so lonely.