African Violet Club Mystery Collection

by Elise M Stone

  She carried them into her new plant room two at a time and positioned them on a shelf unit at the opposite end from the one that held her current plants. You always had to isolate new plants at first. Too often they came with passengers that would infect everything if you weren’t careful. Having so much room made the protocol easy to follow.

  When Lilliana was done, she stood back and admired her new plant room. In her mind’s eye she could imagine it filled with blooming plants, a riot of color. She was pleased with her decision to empty it of the sorrows of the past and fill it with new happiness.

  LILLIANA bolted upright in bed, her heart pounding, and gulping for air. What had awoken her? Not a nightmare. She had no recollection of a bad dream, and certainly she would have remembered one that woke her.

  “ARRR-R-R-OO-OO-OO”

  The cry from the hall sounded like the hounds of hell. Lilliana leapt out of her bed, grabbed her robe, and headed for the front door.

  “ARRR-R-R-OO-OO-OO”

  Before she got halfway, she decided she could use some protection. Just in case it was the hounds of hell and she needed to defend herself. She turned and went back to her bedroom and got her softball bat from the closet. Holding it high, she opened the front door a crack and peered into the hallway.

  “ARRR-R-R-OO-OO-OO”

  Gordon Brown stood in the middle of the hall, his head thrown back and yowling like a werewolf. Good thing there wasn’t a full moon tonight or Lilliana would have had to go back for some garlic. Or was that only for vampires?

  He raked his face with his hands and fell to his knees.

  By this time, several other doors had opened. Faces peeked out, looking for the cause of the disturbance.

  “ARRR-R-R-OO-OO-OO”

  “Can’t somebody shut him up?” Wayne Victorsson whined.

  Lilliana found that amusing, since Wayne was almost totally deaf. If he could hear Gordon, his howling must be loud.

  Harlan Taft opened his door wider and stepped into the hall. “Oh, for goodness sake. Somebody help me get him back into his room.”

  Since no one else moved, Lilliana leaned her softball bat against the wall and went over to help Harlan. They each took one side of Gordon and lifted him to his feet. Finally the howling had stopped. Now tears gushed down his face, and his body collapsed like a deflated balloon. Thinking it was going to be almost impossible to move his dead weight, Lilliana asked, “Which is his room?”

  “Right here.” Harlan gestured with his head toward the nearest door.

  Between the two of them, they managed to get Gordon inside and back into bed. He lay there shivering. He couldn’t be cold. This was Arizona, after all, and unless you turned up the air conditioning too high, you were rarely cold.

  “What’s going on with him?” Lilliana asked Harlan.

  “Night terrors,” he said as if that explained everything.

  “What do you mean ‘night terrors’?”

  “Gordon thinks it’s because of the war. He was a Marine in Viet Nam,” Harlan said. “Saw a lot of nasty stuff. Never did get over it. A lot of boys came home with permanent damage. If you notice, most of them don’t like to talk about the war.”

  Lilliana had noticed. It was one of those topics you didn’t bring up. “Does this happen often?”

  Harlan shrugged. “Often enough. He doesn’t sleep so good. I’ve found him sleepwalking several times, wandering around the halls in the middle of the night. This is the first time he’s screamed like that while doing it, though.”

  Lilliana’s estimation of Harlan rose several notches. Anyone willing to help someone in the middle of the night couldn’t be all bad. Even if he was a racist. “Can’t they give him any medication for it?”

  Harlan shrugged again. “Dunno.”

  Lilliana glanced toward the bedroom door. “Do you think he’ll get up again and start that howling?”

  “Probably not. I’ll sit here a while and make sure he goes back to sleep. You might as well go back to your apartment.”

  It didn’t take anything more to convince Lilliana of that. She picked up her bat on her way back, made sure her front door was firmly locked, and went back to bed with the bat cradled in her arms.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MARY struggled up the steps of the van. Miguel kept a watchful eye as he folded up Mary’s walker, which he would place in the front, out of the way. At last Mary made it to the first row of seats so Lilliana, who had been waiting behind her, could climb up. Since Willie’s car wouldn’t be ready until Wednesday, she’d been able to keep her promise to Nancy that she’d go on the casino trip.

  “This is going to be fun.” Nancy said from behind her.

  Lilliana wasn’t sure. She wasn’t particularly fond of gambling, but at least the casino would be a change of scenery. She paused at the top of the steps. Rather than settling into the first row, Mary was rocking her way down the aisle, alternately leaning on the left row of seats, then the right because of her bad hips. Finally she reached the row where Harlan was sitting.

  “Is this seat occupied?” she asked sweetly.

  Harlan pursed his lips. “Suit yourself.”

  Taking that as an invitation, Mary plopped beside him.

  “Huh,” Nancy huffed in Lilliana’s ear. “Look at that hussy. She knew I wanted to sit next to Harlan.”

  Lilliana turned and looked at Nancy. “She did?”

  “Of course she did. I told her so at breakfast this morning.”

  Nancy switched her attention to Lenny, who was sitting across from Mary and Harlan. “Why, hello, Lenny.” Nancy practically sang the words. Then she whispered to Lilliana, “You don’t mind if I sit with Lenny, do you?”

  Well, Lilliana was a bit put out. After Nancy had made such a big deal about her coming, it did seem rather rude for her to be so focused on which man she was going to sit next to. But Lilliana decided to let it pass. “No, of course not.”

  “Oh, good. I’ll finally have a chance with one of the men.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lilliana asked as she slowly made her way down the aisle. “You’ve lived in Rainbow Ranch for how long? A year? Or is it two?”

  “Two. Almost three,” Nancy said affirmatively. “But the past couple of weeks, all the men were paying attention to Ruby.”

  Couple of weeks? How long had Ruby lived at the retirement home? At first Willie had said he ran into her the night before she was murdered. Then it turned out he’d actually met her at the gospel music group. Now Nancy was saying Ruby had lived there a lot longer than that. Was Nancy confused? But the calendar in Ruby’s apartment confirmed Nancy’s version. Had Willie been lying?

  Nancy took the seat beside Lenny while Lilliana slid into the seat behind them and sat near the window. She settled in and gazed around the van. Most of the seats were taken. Apparently the casino trip was very popular. She nodded to Bob and Sarah Higgins when she spied them in the last seat. Pieter Joncker had come along, and she’d seen that new woman—Bernadine—standing toward the end of the line waiting to get on the van. Not feeling like making small talk, Lilliana pulled a book out of her purse and opened it to the spot she’d bookmarked.

  But she couldn’t really concentrate on reading. It seemed Ruby had made quite an impression in the short time she’d been at the retirement community. Not only on the men, but also on Nancy. There had definitely been jealousy in Nancy’s voice when she spoke about her. Enough jealousy to justify murder?

  She remembered the famous lines from Othello:

  O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;

  It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock

  The meat it feeds on.

  Nancy had talked about making Willie some of her applesauce to dissolve his medication in, as well as giving some to Ruby for constipation. Had she accidentally mixed up the two portions? Or maybe it wasn’t accidental. She hated to think Nancy did it on purpose. Nancy wasn’t malicious, at least, not in Lilliana’s experience. But there certainly wer
e times when it was clear her elevator didn’t go to the top floor. Lilliana was going to have to consider Nancy as a suspect, even if they were friends.

  Her ploy with the book didn’t work. The new woman—Bernadine—sat down beside her as she asked, “Mind if I sit with you?”

  Not wanting to be rude, Lilliana smiled and said, “Not at all.” Inside she felt like squirming. But she should make the best of things. Who knew? Bernadine looked in reasonably good health. Maybe she’d be a candidate for the softball team. “You’re Bernadine, right?”

  Bernadine nodded, a big smile on her face. “Bernadine Meade from Appleton, Wisconsin.”

  “Lilliana Wentworth, now from Rainbow Ranch, Arizona.”

  “But where are you from originally?” Bernadine asked. “Almost no one in Arizona was born here.”

  “Boston, Massachusetts.”

  “How exciting!”

  Her enthusiastic remark and big smile surprised Lilliana. Laugh lines framed Bernadine’s eyes. Her short, wavy white hair curled around two small ears that would have been hardly noticeable if she hadn’t been wearing pearl earrings. The earrings drew Lilliana’s gaze upwards, making Bernadine’s smile seem wider than it was. She was dressed in a red-white-and-blue striped top and navy blue culottes.

  Lilliana couldn’t help but smile back.

  “You were the one who tried to save that woman who got stabbed.”

  Not again. Had the woman forgotten they’d already established that at dinner the other night? Lilliana sucked in a breath, stopped herself from breathing it out so it wouldn’t turn into a full-blown sigh. Of course that’s why Bernadine had chosen to sit beside her. But maybe she could use the opportunity to find out if Bernadine might be a suspect. “Yes, I was. I wasn’t very successful.”

  “But you were so brave, running up to her and not being afraid of all that blood.”

  “It wasn’t really a matter of bravery. To be brave, you first have to be afraid. I don’t remember being at all afraid at the time. I just knew I had to do something to try to stop the bleeding.”

  “Well, I was in the medical field myself,” Bernadine confided in a lowered voice. “But I don’t think I would have been able to do it.”

  “What exactly did you do before you retired?” Lilliana found it strange that a retired nurse or physician’s assistant wouldn’t have come forward at the time. If she remembered correctly, Bernadine had been one of those who had fled the room.

  “Oh.” Bernadine gave a nervous little laugh. “I wasn’t a doctor or anything. I was a medical transcriptionist.” Then, as if defending her description of herself, “But, let me tell you, behind all those fancy words, there was plenty of ugly stuff. I tried not to think about what they meant.”

  Now Lilliana did sigh. When she’d heard Bernadine’s original job description, she had hoped she’d finally found someone with a professional background to become friends with. Not that she was complaining about Nancy or Mary or Lenny or Frank, but it would have been nice to have someone who read more than the latest James Patterson book or those steamy romances Mary liked.

  “What did you do?” Bernadine asked, bringing Lilliana back from her musing.

  “I was a reference librarian at the Boston Public Library,” Lilliana said with a hint of pride in her voice. “Then Charles got a position as a full professor at the University of Arizona, and I worked at the Pima County Public Library.”

  Bernadine looked impressed. “My, you must be very smart.”

  Lilliana smiled. “Just smart enough to know where to find the answers.”

  Bernadine turned thoughtful. “You know, I like to read. Mostly murder mysteries. Is there a book club at Rainbow Ranch?”

  Maybe she and Bernadine had more in common than she’d originally thought. Lilliana shook her head. “No, there isn’t.” Then she got an idea. “Why don’t you start one?”

  “Me?” Bernadine’s eyes widened. “I’m not that smart. I wouldn’t know how to do that.”

  “It isn’t hard,” Lilliana said. “Pick out a book, then reserve the library room for a meeting. You can post notices on the bulletin boards near the elevator and in the dining room. I’m sure lots of people would be interested in a book club. I’d join.” Her voice caught. Why had she added those last two words? She had plenty to do, what with the African Violet Club, and trying to organize the softball team, and now the fairies. Not to mention solving the murders that seemed to be popping up on a regular basis in Rainbow Ranch.

  “Would you?” Bernadine looked happy and expectant. “I used to belong to a book club back in Appleton. Do you like mysteries? Maybe we could make it a mystery book club.”

  Lilliana did like mysteries—otherwise she wouldn’t be trying to solve one herself—but it might be a mistake to limit the book selections. “I love mysteries, but there are others who prefer other kinds of books.” She once again thought of Mary.

  Bernadine frowned. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t like historical fiction much. Except for ‘Gone With the Wind,’ of course.”

  “How many historical fiction novels have you read?” Lilliana asked.

  “Just ‘Gone With the Wind.’ But those other Civil War books sound so boring.”

  Lilliana wondered which Civil War books she was referring to. It probably didn’t matter. The way Bernadine said it, she’d probably consider all Civil War books boring. “There are other wars, you know.”

  Bernadine wrinkled her nose.

  “What about those set in the old West?” Lilliana suggested. “Or there are books about ancient Egypt and the Middle Ages...” From the look on Bernadine’s face, it was obvious she wasn’t open to any kind of historical fiction. “Have you read any science fiction?”

  “That’s worse than historical fiction,” Bernadine said. “All those spaceships and dragons and time travel. It makes my head spin, especially when they go into all the things that make spaceships work.”

  “Maybe some of the classics then. Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, Leo Tolstoy.” Lilliana got very enthusiastic as she recited the classic authors. She would love to read “A Tale of Two Cities” or “Anna Karenina” again.

  Bernadine shook her head.

  Well, Lilliana thought she might have just the thing for Bernadine, then. She hadn’t been a librarian for over thirty years without having a variety of books in various genres to suggest to her patrons. “I know just the thing. Women’s fiction.”

  “What’s that?” Bernadine asked.

  “Women’s fiction is about women’s everyday lives and the trials and triumphs they experience. It’s about relationships. Have you heard of Jodi Picoult?”

  Bernadine nodded vigorously. “My sister loved her books.”

  Relieved, Lilliana continued. “Good. Jodi Picoult writes women’s fiction. Another wonderful women’s fiction author is Liane Moriarity.”

  “Maybe we could read Jodi Picoult.” Bernadine still didn’t sound too sure.

  Lilliana hurried to confirm the choice. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

  Bernadine smiled. “I’ll find out when we can use the library as soon as we get back to Rainbow Ranch.”

  Lilliana smiled back, trying not to object to the “we” in that sentence.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  LILLIANA stared out the window. The conversation with Bernadine had been exhausting. She hoped the woman, who had shut her eyes immediately after her pronouncement about the book club, would sleep for the rest of the trip. The desert scenery scrolled by the window, empty and dry and beautiful. I-10 ribboned across the Sonoran Desert on its way between the coasts, and Lilliana imagined the ends of it floating down in Florida and Los Angeles, and herself, if only she could, skimming along the ribbon’s length like a child on a water slide. She wondered if Greyhound traveled from one end to the other. It would be like a trip on the Orient Express.

  She’d always dreamed of long trips. There was that railroad trip through the Canadian Rockies she and Charles had always imag
ined they’d take. Or a cruise around the world after they retired. With no timetables or deadlines, they could travel at their leisure. She tried to keep the tears from welling up as she thought of her husband. He’d been so healthy. They’d done so many activities together: bowling, tennis, even softball. They’d joined a team at a local pub, not that either of them were big drinkers, but the softball teams all seemed to be organized around a bar. They’d ordered a beer or two, got acquainted with the regulars, then became part of a team once they found a group of people they liked.

  It was coming back home from one of those games when he’d had his stroke. It wasn’t one of those little ones, either, TIAs they called them. No. It had been massive, robbing him of his strength and his ability to speak. The doctors had told her she should put him in a nursing home, but she couldn’t stand the thought of that. When Lilliana was a child, an aunt of hers had gone to a nursing home after a stroke. Her mother had insisted she come along to visit. What she most remembered from those visits was the smell. The whole place smelled of urine. Her Aunt Elizabeth sitting in a chair with a blank look on her face, not recognizing her or her mother at all. Every once in a while, she’d reconnect with reality, ask Lilliana how she was doing in school, making it all the more painful when she dissolved into tears or got that blank look again, seeing who-knows-what in the remnants of her mind.

  She couldn’t let Charles go to one of those places. Even though there was little left of his mind, and less of his mobility, she preferred to care for him herself. She’d fed him soft food with a spoon, soup and cereal and strained vegetables, because he had trouble swallowing, too. She changed the adult diapers and cleaned him up when he soiled himself. She didn’t mind. They might not be able to make love any more, but in her heart, caring for him was as romantic as a candlelit dinner with wine and roses.

  Lilliana shook her head, trying to clear it of the sad memories. Just in time, too, since the van was pulling into the parking lot of the Desert Diamond Casino. It wouldn’t do for everyone to see her crying over a husband who passed away over a year ago.