African Violet Club Mystery Collection

by Elise M Stone

  Lenny stood and flipped the partially assembled piece its side. “Hand me the other end will you, Lily?”

  Lilliana picked the part up off the floor and held it out for him. Lenny started putting the bolts in the other end. “Anyway, she started telling me how she was lonely here, and then how much she loved flowers—roses in particular—and the next thing I know, I find myself calling the florist and ordering a dozen roses.”

  He paused to fish out another set of pieces from the plastic bag. “I felt totally foolish when they arrived today, so I just let Beverly keep them.”

  Beverly hadn’t said anything about Lenny being around when the flowers were delivered. Had she forgotten? Or had she been sworn to secrecy?

  “The Thinking-of-You card you sent her was very nice, too.”

  He stopped assembling the shelf as his head swung in her direction. “Card? I didn’t send her any card.” Wrinkles creased his forehead and he squinted as his eyes met hers before quickly looking away. He continued to work on the plant stand.

  Was he telling the truth or lying? “Oh. My mistake.”

  Lenny sized up his handiwork, gave the plant stand a little shake to check its stability, then unpacked the fluorescent light bulbs and inserted them in the fixtures. “Where would you like this one?”

  Lilliana pointed to the far wall. “Over there. I thought I’d line them up along that wall. There are two outlets nearby to plug in the lights.”

  Lenny wrestled the plant stand over to the indicated space and plugged it in. Lilliana held her breath as he reached for the switch. He appeared to have done everything right because the bulbs came on. And there was no sparking or any other sign of a misstep. Lilliana relaxed. One down, five to go.

  INTENT on getting dinner early for a change, Lilliana entered the dining room ahead of her usual time. Lenny had gone off to shower and put on clean clothes after assembling all six plant shelves. It had taken Lilliana only thirty minutes or so to move all of her plants—except the special ones that needed extra humidity until she could get them hardened off—from her guest bath to her new plant room. They’d barely taken up the shelves on one unit. Everything looked so empty, and she wondered if she’d overdone it by buying six of the expensive plant stands with the grow lights. Perhaps three might have been enough. But she knew it wouldn’t take long to fill them between rooting leaves from existing plants, buying new ones, and getting cuttings from the other members of the African Violet Club. And the new varieties she’d ordered at the same time as the shelves should be arriving any day now.

  Instead of looking for a table of her friends, she joined the line at the buffet. If she wanted the best choices, she might as well take advantage of her early arrival. She was rewarded with some wonderful stuffed pork chops, lovely green beans that still looked crisp instead of mushy, and a slice of blueberry pie. Once her tray was full, she surveyed the dining room.

  Nancy, Willie, and the Higginses shared a table, along with a woman Lilliana hadn’t met. That left an empty chair and Lilliana headed toward it with her food. “Mind if I sit here?”

  “Of course not,” Nancy said.

  Lilliana maneuvered around the walker and took the seat between Willie and the strange woman. “I’m Lilliana Wentworth,” she said to the woman.

  “Bernadine. Bernadine Meade,” the woman said. White hair in soft waves curled around her face. She sported eyeglasses with large brown, tortoiseshell frames. “You were at that meeting where the woman was killed.”

  Lilliana unwrapped her flatware from the napkin rolled around it. Would she forever be identified with Ruby’s bloody death? “Yes, I was.”

  “Horrible thing. I never expected anything like that when I moved in here.” Bernadine stabbed her meatloaf as if it were responsible for the incident.

  “I don’t think anyone expects murder,” Nancy said as she liberally dosed her pork chop with pepper.

  “Have you heard anything from Chief Cartwright?” Willie asked.

  Lilliana shook her head. “I’m sure it will take time to process the evidence.” A thought came to her. “I’m not so sure he’d tell me anything anyway.”

  “Why not?” Bernadine asked. “It looked like you two were pretty cozy on the day it happened.”

  What was Bernadine insinuating? When had Bernadine seen her and the chief? She didn’t remember questioning this woman after the murder. “What makes you say that?”

  Bernadine pushed some green beans around on her plate. “Well, uh, I kind of peeked inside when Nancy went in.”

  Lilliana remembered Nancy’s comment at breakfast the other day and realized what had happened. “You’re one of the people who didn’t stay around to be questioned, aren’t you?”

  “Can you blame me?” Bernadine stared defiantly at Lilliana. “All that blood and everything. I have no idea how you could stand it, touching a dead woman.”

  “But you came back to see what was going on, didn’t you?”

  “I had a right to be there.” She jabbed another piece of meatloaf and stuck it in her mouth.

  “That was your first African Violet Club meeting, wasn’t it?” Lilliana watched the woman, looking for any signs. Signs of exactly what, she wasn’t sure. But her radar came on any time something happened that was out of the ordinary.

  Bernadine nodded. “Can’t say I’ll come again.”

  “Did you see anyone near Ruby before she was stabbed?” Lilliana asked.

  Bernadine flicked her eyes at Willie. “Just him.”

  That wasn’t very useful. Everyone knew Ruby had come in with Willie. Lilliana carved off a piece of her pork chop. It tasted delicious, still juicy on the inside and nicely seared on the outside. The stuffing was heavy with sage and apples. She’d have to consider coming to dinner earlier on a regular basis.

  “Do you think we should still have the club?” Sarah asked.

  Lilliana jerked her head in Sarah’s direction. She’d almost forgotten she was sitting with them. Lilliana couldn’t imagine not having the club meeting. It was the one activity where she’d managed to fit in, to meet some people. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “Well, with everything that’s happened. I mean, it seems every time we meet, someone gets killed.” Sarah put a hand to her throat.

  Bob, never one to talk much, added, “I don’t think I want Sarah going. It’s too dangerous.”

  Lilliana was about to say, “That’s ridiculous,” when she realized it might not be to some people. The elderly were often fearful of things younger people didn’t mind. She was amused at the idea of herself as one of the young people, but then again, she was a decade younger than the Higginses. Age was all relative. And attitude.

  “I think I’m going to get some of those cookies and go back to my room,” Bernadine said. “I’m not feeling very hungry at the moment.”

  Without waiting for anyone to respond, she rose and left the table. Lilliana followed the woman with her eyes. Was she avoiding any more discussion of Ruby or the African Violet Club? Was she afraid Lilliana might ask her more questions? Should she ask her more questions? She made a mental note to try to find out more about Bernadine Meade, hoping the note wouldn’t be erased by the time she got back to her room.

  The Higginses soon left the table as well, Bob saying something about his program being on. It seemed to Lilliana Bob’s “program” was always on. He was one of those elderly men who spent the better part of his day in front of the television watching old westerns and sports.

  Nancy was babbling on about some new recipe—something with currants and candied pineapple to which she was going to add caraway seeds and bring to bingo this week. Lilliana wasn’t paying much attention. Now that the memorial service was over, and Lenny had put together her shelves, she was worried about how she was going to get the UPS package containing the fairies.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Willie said when Nancy paused in her tale of the recipe.

  “Oh, sorry,” Lilliana said. “I was just wondering
how I could get to the UPS depot. Do you think the van might stop in Bisbee the next time it goes on a grocery trip?”

  “Why do you need to go to the depot?” Nancy asked. “UPS is here almost every day.”

  She realized she’d have to come up with some excuse for the unusual trip. She certainly couldn’t explain her real reason. “I need to send something to my nephew in Minnesota for his birthday. I think the box is too big to go through the mail.”

  “Oh, well then,” Nancy said.

  “Lilliana,” Willie said gently. “The UPS depot isn’t in Bisbee.”

  “It isn’t?” Alarm ran through her system. Surely it couldn’t be all the way in Tucson?

  “No. It’s in Sierra Vista,” Willie said, naming a town farther east and south than Bisbee.

  Almost as bad as Tucson, thought Lilliana. “Oh, dear.”

  “Why don’t you drive there?” Nancy asked.

  “I don’t have a car,” Lilliana responded. “After Charles passed, I didn’t see the need, what with the van and the little stores here for things I might need between shopping trips. I was never that fond of driving anyway.”

  “Do you have a license?” Willie asked.

  Lilliana thought a moment. She was sure she had a license, but was it still valid? Then she remembered. Once you reached your sixty-fifth birthday, you had to renew your license every five years. Since she was seventy-four and her birthday wasn’t for another six months, her license had to be valid. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “Then you can take my car,” Willie said.

  “I didn’t know you had a car.” She couldn’t remember Willie ever mentioning a vehicle.

  “Well, I do. I haven’t driven it in a while because of my hip. That’s one of the things I was looking forward to after my surgery—being able to drive again. I’d like to be able to go back to Tucson every once in a while, get together with my old TPD buddies. The doctor said that would have to wait a few more weeks, but after that...”

  It had been quite a while since Lilliana had driven herself. She wondered if she still could. You’re being silly, she told herself. It’s just like riding a bicycle. It will all come back to you once you get behind the wheel. “Why, thank you, Willie. Would you mind if I took the car Monday morning?”

  “Not at all. I’ll bring the keys and the registration to breakfast tomorrow.”

  SUNDAY passed quietly. After church, Lilliana had tried reading the Inspector Lynley mystery, but her thoughts kept going back to worrying about the fairies. She’d finally gotten up and started some new leaves so she could fill those empty plant shelves. Then she’d brought some of the baby plants from the bathroom to the plant room, split them into separate pots, and put them in those plastic shells from the bakery department at Safeway. The containers acted as mini greenhouses, keeping the humidity high. She’d leave them open for a little while each day, gradually increasing the time so they’d adapt to the drier air in the plant room.

  The hours went by quickly, and by the time she returned to her living room, the sun had set. Not hungry enough to go to the dining room for dinner, she made herself a can of soup and went to bed early, eager for Monday morning.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IT had been bad enough when she saw the tires on the big, black Lincoln Continental were almost flat. Then she thought her whole trip might have to be called off when at first the car wouldn’t start. It had, finally, and she’d managed to move the seat forward so she could reach the pedals more easily. The windows were dirty, and there was only a quarter tank of gas in the car, not nearly enough to get to Sierra Vista and back, especially with the horrible gas mileage a vehicle like this was bound to get. But the coup de gras was when the Lincoln stalled at the stop sign at the end of the driveway. What else could go wrong?

  The weak battery had given up the ghost in the Arizona heat and refused to turn over the engine one more time. Lilliana wiped her brow with the palm of her hand.

  Fortunately there was a service station in Rainbow Ranch, and she remembered its name, so she pulled out her cell phone, looked up the number, and called for help. The man who answered told her he’d be right there, but she’d been waiting a good fifteen minutes in the heat. Just as she was thinking about walking back to her apartment, a tow truck turned into the driveway. A young man—well, young to her, although he was probably in his mid-thirties—hopped out of the truck and strolled over. “Mike” was embroidered over the pocket of his shirt, which made sense, since she’d called Mike’s Garage.

  “Got some trouble, ma’am?” he asked.

  Feeling irritated by the wait in the heat and the change in her plans, Lilliana almost snapped at him. But she got herself under control and, with the theory that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, responded sweetly, “Yes, I do. I hope you can fix whatever’s wrong so I can go on my way.”

  “I’ll try.” Mike gave her a smile before sliding into the front seat. He turned the key and frowned when nothing happened for him, either.

  Lilliana heard the hood pop as Mike pulled the release. He got out of the car and raised the hood, then bent underneath and jiggled a few things before his head emerged again.

  “Ma’am, when was the last time this car was driven?”

  “Why, I don’t know.” She thought back to how long she’d known Willie. Six months at least, and all that time he’d always used his walking stick, until he had the hip replacement, which meant it had been at least that long since he’d driven the car. “Six months, I think.”

  “I’m surprised you got it this far. Looks to me like it needs a good servicing—oil change, fluids checked, air filter, probably a new battery—and those tires certainly need filling.”

  Lilliana worried how much all that would cost. Would Willie pay for it? Or would she need to find the money? It didn’t really matter. If she didn’t get to Sierra Vista soon, the fairies might die. “Can you do it today?”

  Mike looked doubtful. “I can start working on it today, but it all depends on what else I find. I’ll give you a call this afternoon after I take a look at it.”

  “I suppose that will have to do,” Lilliana said. Was nothing going to be easy?

  She gave Mike her cell phone number and watched as he hooked up the Lincoln to his tow truck. He gave her a wave as he drove away.

  Lilliana sighed. She was quite thirsty, and it was a long walk uphill to the retirement home. Cathy’s Café was much closer. She’d just cross the street and get a nice glass of iced tea.

  The cool of the air conditioning felt so much better than the heat outside. In mid-morning, almost all the seats inside Cathy’s Café were empty. Almost. She noticed Chief Cartwright sitting in a booth at the back. She hurried to join him, congratulating herself on her luck. Now she wouldn’t have to make a special trip to the police station to get an update on the investigation.

  “Mind if I join you, Chief?”

  Cartwright looked up from the newspaper he’d been reading—the latest issue of the Rainbow Ranch Gazette—and responded. “Not at all, Mrs. Wentworth.” He folded up the paper, exposing the remains of breakfast on one of the café’s china plates.

  Lilliana slid into the opposite seat. “How are things going?”

  “Well, the Fisters’ dog got loose again, had a delivery truck run the red light this morning, and I wrote a parking ticket.”

  Lilliana made a face. “You know very well what I mean.”

  Cathy appeared at the table, order pad in hand. “What can I get you this morning?”

  “Iced tea, please.”

  “More coffee, Chief?”

  “If you don’t mind, Cathy.”

  Cathy stuck the pad in her apron pocket and gathered up the plate and flatware from in front of Cartwright. They waited in silence until Cathy brought Lilliana’s iced tea and the coffee pot. Once she’d filled Cartwright’s mug, she disappeared through the doors behind the counter, leaving the two of them alone.

  Lilliana turned back to the ch
ief. “Is there any news on the investigation?”

  Cartwright blew on the steaming coffee before taking a sip. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  She waited a few seconds. When it became obvious the chief wasn’t going to say anything else, she asked, “Well? What is it?” The annoyance she was feeling came through clearly in her voice.

  “It’s confidential police information.”

  “Come now. We’ve been partners before. You asked me to sit in on the interviews after the murder. How do you expect me to help you if you’re going to be secretive?”

  The chief pursed his lips and scratched his head.

  The man was so frustrating. They both knew he was going to tell her whatever it was he was holding back. It was silly for him to pretend otherwise. Lilliana frowned at him. That seemed to do the trick.

  “Well, if you promise not to tell anyone. I wouldn’t want this getting out around the town. Or the retirement home.”

  “You know I can keep a secret,” Lilliana said.

  He leaned forward. “The autopsy results on Ruby Robinson came in this morning. Mrs. Robinson died of blood loss due to a stab wound to the thorax that punctured her spleenic artery.”

  “That explains why she lost so much blood. I thought the ice pick must have hit an artery from the way the blood pulsed as it came out.” Not much news there, but something. Had the killer known the location of the artery? Or had they just been lucky?

  Lilliana squeezed a slice of lemon into her tea, then took a sip. Her throat thanked her.

  “That’s not all.” The chief waited, but Lilliana wasn’t going to be goaded into pleading for information again. Finally he added, “She had a drug in her system, not one found in any of her prescriptions.”

  “What’s that?” Lilliana asked. Was it some kind of poison?

  “Most people know it as Xarelto,” Cartwright said. “A blood thinner. You wouldn’t happen to know who in the African Violet Club is taking Xarelto, would you? Because it wasn’t one of Mrs. Robinson’s prescriptions. I checked with Kirstie on that first thing.”