African Violet Club Mystery Collection

by Elise M Stone

  “I’ll stay,” Christopher said. “For moral support, if nothing else.”

  Lilliana breathed easier when he said that. No matter how independent she was, it was still nice to have someone around in times of stress. “Thank you.”

  She hurried back to where the chief was asking Nancy still more questions. Cartwright loomed over the seated woman from his standing position, and Nancy cowered in response. Lilliana decided to remain standing, which nearly eliminated Cartwright’s height advantage over her.

  She noticed Sam Horn hovering in the background, absorbing every word of both the questions and the answers. Buckley, still on the wrong side of the crime scene tape, fumed.

  “Let’s start from the beginning.” Chief Cartwright looked exasperated, probably not without reason. Nancy was a nice enough woman, but she had a tendency to ramble and change topics and not be very clear on what she meant. “Tell me what you were doing when you found Ms. Fordyce.”

  Nancy looked at her, as if she might hold the answer to the policeman’s question. Lilliana decided to help. “You were probably coming back here to use the restroom. Isn’t that right, Nancy?”

  Nancy nodded her head. “The fireworks lasted so long—not that they weren’t very pretty—but I didn’t expect to have to wait this late before I could tinkle. So, as soon as they were over, I ran back here.”

  “Was Ms. Fordyce also coming to use the restroom?” the chief asked.

  Nancy looked confused. “I guess so. I mean, she was already here. There.” Nancy pointed at the body. “Dead, I think.”

  “She was dead when you got here?” Lilliana asked, wanting to make it clear that Nancy wasn’t the killer.

  Another nod from Nancy.

  “What did you do next?” Cartwright asked. “Did you check for a pulse? Breathing? Touch the body in any way?”

  “Oh, no,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “I couldn’t possibly touch a dead person. I leaned over and picked up the gun.”

  “What?” The word came out as a shout.

  Lilliana cringed.

  “I picked up the gun.” Again Nancy looked at Lilliana for reassurance.

  Noticing the glance, Cartwright questioned Lilliana. “Did you see her do that?”

  “Well, no.” Lilliana sighed. She supposed she should tell the whole truth, no matter how bad it looked for poor Nancy. “By the time I got here, Mrs. Gardner was already holding the pistol.”

  “So you’d already shot her.” Cartwright said the words quickly. Lilliana thought he was trying to catch Nancy off guard, get her to admit she’d done the killing before she had a chance to think about her response. It almost worked.

  Nancy’s head moved up, the beginning of a nod, then stopped. “No. I didn’t shoot her. Tell him, Lilliana. Tell him I didn’t shoot her.”

  Unfortunately, she could neither confirm nor deny Nancy’s statement. “I don’t believe Mrs. Gardner shot her.” Her statement sounded cautious enough to her. She hadn’t lied, but she wondered if the chief would catch the subtle difference she’d made by the way she’d phrased that sentence.

  “But you don’t know for sure.”

  He had. Chief Cartwright might be young and lacking in experience, but he wasn’t stupid.

  “No. But anyone could have followed Ms. Fordyce back here and shot her during the show. There was so much noise from the fireworks, I don’t think anyone would have noticed the sound of a gun going off.”

  “When did you last see her?” Cartwright asked.

  “Let me think.” She knew when she had first seen the cowgirl, but stopped to see if she could recall seeing her any time after that. “It was early afternoon, I think. She was being interviewed on television.”

  “She was?” Sam asked.

  That was a mistake on his part, because it drew the chief’s attention to him. “What are you still doing in here? This is a crime scene. You should be outside the tape.”

  Sam shrugged. “You never told me to go.”

  “Well, I’m telling you now.”

  The newspaperman headed for the side where Buckley stood with his cameraman, most likely assuming the chief would be persuaded into talking to Buckley before he left. As they waited for Sam to move out of earshot, a crime scene unit van trundled across the uneven field and pulled up next to the generator. The driver aimed its headlights toward where they stood.

  “Wait right here,” the chief told Nancy. He strode over to where two technicians were taking equipment out of a compartment on the side of the truck and spoke to them for a minute before heading back.

  Halfway on the return journey, DeeDee hurried up to him and handed him his notebook and pen. “I got all the names I could, Chief, but I’m afraid a lot of the crowd left before I started.”

  “I expected that,” the chief said with a sigh. “Thanks, DeeDee.”

  “Is it okay for me to leave now? Paul took the kids home already. I’d like to tuck them into bed.”

  “I suppose. We’re going to have a busy day tomorrow. Think you can get in early?”

  “Sure thing, Chief. And thanks.”

  As DeeDee walked away, Lilliana took the opportunity to speak up. “It is late, Chief Cartwright. I think I can speak for Nancy as well as myself when I say we’re very tired. You’re going to have your hands full with the crime scene people for a while. I’m sure Nancy would be willing to come to Town Hall tomorrow and answer any more questions you might have.”

  Cartwright looked as if he might object, but then reconsidered. “I suppose that would be okay. The two of you can go.”

  “Come along, Nancy,” Lilliana said. “You can walk back to the retirement home with Christopher and me.”

  Speaking of Christopher, where had he disappeared to? After offering his moral support, she hadn’t seen him anywhere nearby.

  Nancy looked dismayed as she followed her friend toward the crime scene tape boundary. “I’m too tired to walk now, Lilliana. Do you think someone could give me a ride?”

  Sam magically appeared just outside the crime scene tape in front of them. “I can do it.”

  “Oh, would you?” Nancy asked.

  Lilliana was less sanguine. “Will you promise not to pester her with questions?”

  “I have more heart than that, Mrs. Wentworth,” Sam said in a wounded tone of voice.

  She felt ashamed. Of course he did. Sam was local people, not anything like Biff Buckley. “My apologies, Sam. Thank you.”

  They ducked under the tape as Sam lifted it to shoulder height for them. There was still no sign of Christopher.

  “Can I give you a ride back, too?” Sam asked.

  Christopher’s baritone boomed as he emerged out of the darkness. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Sam looked him up and down. “And who might you be?”

  “Christopher MacAlistair. I recently moved into the Rainbow Ranch Retirement Community.”

  “You know this gentleman?” Sam asked Lilliana.

  “We’ve become acquainted.”

  “Be careful,” Sam said sotto voce, then turned to Nancy. “Let’s go, Mrs. Gardner. My vehicle is parked in front of the school.”

  “Are you sure you want to walk back?” Christopher asked as Sam and Nancy headed off.

  “I’m sure. I think I need the walk to clear my head.”

  Unfortunately, Lilliana’s head refused to empty itself of the image of Fox’s body with Nancy standing over it. She kept reliving the scene and thinking about the implications of another murder in the formerly peaceful village of Rainbow Ranch.

  They walked in silence until they reached Main Street. Christopher looked both ways, then took Lilliana’s hand before stepping into the street. She had the urge to protest the intimacy, but his touch brought comfort—and a distraction—to her troubled mind.

  When they reached the other side, Christopher asked, “Does the officer really think that foolish old woman shot the cowgirl?”

  For a moment, Lilliana was jolted by the idea of Na
ncy being called an old woman. She was several years older than Nancy. If Christopher thought Nancy was old, then what was she? Then she remembered that, although in her mind she was still young, her body told a different story. They were all old. Even Christopher. “I hope not. What would Nancy’s motive be?”

  “I hope you’re not expecting me to help you with that.”

  Lilliana regarded his face, wondering what he could possibly mean by that remark, only to see his smile and a twinkle in his eye. He was joking. “Only if you know something I don’t,” she responded in kind.

  “Maybe she tried to give her a sweater, and Miss Fordyce wouldn’t take it.”

  “Did Nancy...?”

  “Aye,” Christopher said. “She told me she was knitting one of those monstrosities for me.”

  “You didn’t...?” Lilliana didn’t know how to ask him. Nancy meant well. She couldn’t help it if she couldn’t cook and her taste in knitting projects was, to say the least, bizarre.

  He shook his head. “No, I didn’t tell her I wouldn’t wear it. Perhaps you could suggest she give the sweater to someone else.”

  “I’m not sure who I would recommend,” Lilliana said as they passed the gazebo.

  “Do you want to go inside?” Christopher slowed his steps. “Or should we sit out here for a while longer?” He gestured toward the gazebo.

  Lilliana was torn. Although she was tired from being outside for most of the day and the excitement of the evening’s events, she wasn’t quite ready to leave Christopher’s company. “Well, perhaps for a few minutes.”

  “Good.” Christopher led the way up the three steps and sat on the bench inside. She followed, being careful to leave a couple of inches between them when she joined him on the bench.

  “Is it always this hot at night?” he asked.

  “In July it is. Not in October.”

  “It’s a long way until October. I don’t know if I’ll even be here then.”

  “But you just got here,” Lilliana protested.

  “I told you I’m restless. I might decide to move on. Or I might decide to stay. It all depends on what happens.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to pursue what would have to happen for him to stay. “I’ve become accustomed to Rainbow Ranch. I’ve made friends, and the town is just big enough to be interesting and small enough so you get to know people. It’s comfortable, especially for a woman alone.”

  “Do you plan on always being alone?” he asked.

  Her heart beat a bit faster. “It’s not always what one intends,” Lilliana said. “Sometimes things happen that you hadn’t planned.”

  “I find it appealing to have someone to share my life with.” His voice was softer as he took her hand in his. “I like to travel, but doing it alone isn’t always fun. It would be nice to have someone with whom to discuss what you’ve seen over dinner, see things through their eyes instead of your own.”

  “I haven’t left Arizona in a very long time.” Lilliana felt wistful. It would be nice to get out and see more of the world. She’d always wanted to travel. Maybe she’d become too comfortable.

  “You might want to think about it.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand, a gesture that felt more intimate than it actually was.

  She looked up to find him gazing at her with affection. She couldn’t help but gaze back. He leaned toward her, and she so wanted to respond by leaning toward him in return. But she barely knew him. What was she getting herself into? She pulled her hand from his and got to her feet. “I think it’s time to go inside. I’m really quite tired.”

  His face held a question, and she quickly turned away before her own expression could give him an answer, even though she wasn’t sure what that answer would be. He slowly rose beside her. “Let’s go in, then.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE next morning, Lilliana decided she would skip breakfast in the dining room and have tea on her patio. She wasn’t avoiding Christopher, she told herself. It was just because she’d eaten so much at the Fourth of July celebration yesterday, she really wasn’t hungry.

  She knew she was lying.

  As she drank her cup of Earl Grey, she went over what she was going to do today. It was almost time for the monthly meeting of the African Violet Club. It didn’t appear as if enough residents were interested to grow the membership much, and she thought they might need to encourage some town people to join. Perhaps she’d take a walk and visit the office of the Rainbow Ranch Gazette. Find out how much it would cost to take out a small ad. And perhaps ask Sam if he’d learned anything more about the murder last night after she’d left.

  On the way, she might stop by Cameron’s Flowers and Gifts and see if any of her African violets had sold.

  After lunch, she should try starting more of her Royal Purple African violets. She might as well be optimistic about demand and ramp up her supply. While she was at it, perhaps she should start some of her True Blue hybrid as well. That one had been popular at the show and sale they’d held a few months back.

  And, if she didn’t see Nancy at lunch, she really should seek her out at dinner. Find out if she’d spoken any further to Chief Cartwright. Remind her to ask for a lawyer if he started accusing her of the murder.

  She remembered it was Wednesday and wondered what movie the retirement home was showing tonight. Popcorn and a movie sounded like fun. A musical would be fun, something like Meet Me in Saint Louis or Brigadoon or...

  Why had she thought of Brigadoon? Could it have anything to do with Christopher? Or was it just a coincidence? What if he showed up at the movie tonight? What would she do?

  She shook her head. Enough! She was acting like a fool. Better to do something productive and get her mind off the handsome Scotsman.

  A short time later, Lilliana strolled down the driveway of the Rainbow Ranch Retirement Community, enjoying the fact that it was downhill on this warm morning. Of course, that meant it would be uphill on the return trip. It would also be warmer. Hopefully, she’d accomplish her errands before the heat became unbearable.

  She was tempted to stop and talk to Jaclyn on her way to the flower shop, but she had errands to accomplish and reluctantly passed the grocery by.

  Cameron’s was busy for a Wednesday morning. Perhaps some of the people who had seen the display yesterday at the Fourth of July celebration had decided to come back and make a purchase. Much to her dismay, a young woman stood at the counter, an assortment of the fairy garden components in front of her. Penny Cameron was cheerfully ringing up the items and placing them in a large plastic bag.

  At least she had been able to warn Esmeralda. Hopefully the fairies would stay away from the new temptation.

  A couple browsed in the aisle of houseplants, while an older woman scrutinized the display of knickknacks. Lilliana had seen her African violet still in the shop window, but that was to be expected. She assumed that plant would be the last to be sold, since its purpose was to attract buyers into the store. But disappointment flooded over her when she saw that all of her plants were still there. Not a one had been sold.

  She turned to leave the store and almost ran into Penny. “Good morning.”

  “I saw you counting the plants,” Penny said. “Perhaps when more of the buds bloom, customers will be more interested.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You know, they might sell better if each were in a pretty ceramic pot instead of the plain plastic ones. I could sell you some at a discount, and you could repot them.”

  Lilliana looked where Penny pointed. A nearby fixture held an assortment of pots in different sizes, from small enough to hold seedlings to large enough for a ficus or rubber plant. She particularly looked at the card which had the prices for each size on it. Even at a discount, buying four or five pots—not to mention more for the additional plants she hoped to sell—would be too expensive. The idea had been to earn money, not to spend it.

  She shook her head. “Not at this time. Perhaps in a couple of weeks, if you sell som
e of my African violets.”

  “It’s up to you,” Penny said. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” She eyed the woman near the knickknacks, and Lilliana could tell she was anxious about losing a sale.

  “Not today. I’ll stop by next week.”

  “Have a nice day,” Penny called out as she headed toward the other customer.

  Lilliana continued on Main Street, walking slower than she had before she’d entered the flower shop, and not just because of the heat. She had hoped at least one plant would be sold, dreamed of two or even three. She turned onto Canyon Road and, with the turning, her spirits lifted a bit. After all, her violets had been in the shop only a few days. Perhaps the newspaper ad she was going to place would not only bring the African Violet Club some new members, it might encourage some of Rainbow Ranch to inquire about the plants themselves at the flower shop.

  Just before she reached the Presbyterian church, a small side street called Camino de la Montaña headed north. On the northwest corner sat Sam Horn’s house, with Rainbow Ranch Gazette spelled out on the front window. Sam had turned his living room into the newspaper office after his wife passed away, and shut down the office which used to occupy the building that was now Cameron’s Flowers and Gifts. Lilliana didn’t bother to knock before she opened the door and entered.

  Sam, ever old-fashioned, wore a white dress shirt with his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He sat at an antique roll-top desk making notes on a yellow legal pad.

  Lilliana crossed to the wooden counter opposite the door. “Good morning, Sam,” she said.

  Sam rose from his desk at the sound of her voice. “Good morning, Mrs. Wentworth. What can I do for you this fine day?”

  “I’d like to place an ad in the paper.”

  He stepped over to the counter and reached underneath. “Will that be a display ad or a classified?” he asked as he shoved the paper form toward her.