Death among the Roses: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 1)

by Anna Drake

  At seven that evening, Ginger and I stood before the rose bed, rain pouring down on our heads and shoulders. My shoes were wet. My hair dripping. And when I cast a glance at Ginger, she looked as miserable as I felt.

  “Geesh,” Ginger said. “Since this outing was your idea, the least you could have done was bring along an umbrella for us.”

  My spine stiffened. “Me? What are you, helpless?”

  “Oh, sure. Push the problem back on my shoulders.”

  Personally, I’d have appreciated having anything at all on my shoulders, especially if it kept the rain off. “Maybe I should start keeping an umbrella in my car,” I mumbled sourly.

  “There’s a thought. Too bad it didn’t occur to you about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Back then,” I said, taking care to keep my voice level, “I didn’t know it was supposed to rain tonight.”

  Ginger shrugged. “Anyway, we’re here now. Maybe we should just see what can be seen or do you want to come back later? Like after the rain stops.”

  “I most emphatically do not want to return to this spot again.”

  And in unspoken unison, we inched closer to the rose bed. Ginger readied herself to take another step. Reaching out a hand, I restrained her. “Don’t trample the crime scene tape, okay?”

  “Geesh, what do you take me for? An idiot. Everybody knows the police frown on anyone violating their sacred ground. Trust me. I do not want to be hauled in to the police station a second time.”

  “Sorry, I was out of line.”

  “Thank you for giving me some credit, anyway.”

  “You’re welcome.” I wiped rain from my face. “So what do you think. See anything in there that tells you who killed Gary?”

  “All I see are puddles of water. You got something else in mind?”

  “How about stretching yourself to see beyond the puddles?”

  “Okay. Here’s what’s there, then. Rose bushes with a few dripping leaves, plus some rosebuds smothered with rainwater.”

  “How about things hanging on the thorns? Maybe a thread or a hair?”

  “Like maybe we’d have to climb beyond the police tape to see anything that small. Besides, what would a thread or hair tell us? Without access to a crime lab, there’s no way for us to have things like that analyzed.”

  I sighed. “If you didn’t want to search for anything, why did you come along?”

  “If I’d known it was going to rain, I wouldn’t have.”

  I decided to shift the subject. “Look around, anyway. What question about Gary’s death most haunts you by what you see here?”

  Ginger lifted her wet hair off her neck. “I guess that would be why anyone would kill someone out in the open like this?”

  “Yes, yes,” I said. “That’s it exactly.”

  Ginger continued on. “I mean, they risked being seen in the middle of a murder by anyone pulling into the parking lot or stepping out of the church. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.”

  “Precisely.”

  “So?”

  “So how about Gary was killed elsewhere and his body dumped in among the roses after the fact?”

  “How would that work?”

  I turned to face by companion, a smile of victory on my face. “We know that after receiving the call, Gary came running out of the church. Let’s say the killer was waiting for him in a car. Gary hops in. The killer drives off with him to a place where poor Gary is strangled out of sight of anyone. Then the murderer drives back here and dumps the body among the roses? I know there’s still a risk of being spotted, but it takes less time to spill a body from a car than to strangle a person. Besides, maybe the killer angled the car, so no one would see Gary being dumped out the door.”

  “I suppose that could work. But there’s absolutely no proof to support your theory.”

  “Then, let’s go look for some. I’ll drive.”

  “You want us to get in your car and out of the rain?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s the best suggestion you’ve had all night.” Ginger turned and took off at a clip I couldn’t match. Upon reaching it, she practically dove inside the car.

  Joining her, I snatched an old blanket from the back seat and offered Ginger one end, while I used the other. Together, we mopped ourselves off as best we could.

  Halfway through drying herself, Ginger lifted the blanket to her nose and sniffed suspiciously. “This thing could do with a washing. Do you know that?”

  I shrugged. “It’s here for when I have to take the dog places.”

  “Somehow, I think I’d already figured that part out.”

  “Would you rather still be dripping with rain?”

  “No,” Ginger answered. “This is good for now.”

  After we finished mopping ourselves off, I returned the blanket to the back seat and made a mental note to run it through the washer when I got home.

  “So what’s next?” Ginger asked.

  “How about we take a drive around the neighborhood? Look for a spot where someone could commit a murder without being seen?”

  “It’s your gas. Let’s go for it.”

  I fired up the car, turned on the heater to chase away the chill from our wet clothes, and backed out of the parking space. Reaching the street, I turned left, driving slowly so as not to miss spotting a convenient hiding place. “How far away from the church do you think the killer would have driven before killing Gary?”

  “Probably not far. The guests were due to start arriving anytime.”

  “Right. Keep an eye peeled for bushes or trees or sheds or something, anything a car could be hidden behind.”

  But after circling four blocks, we’d failed to find anything like a hiding place.

  “What about the alleys?” Ginger asked.

  “Good idea.” I turned down the first one we came across. Easing my vehicle over the bumpy path, we saw sheds and garages and trees, but none were close enough together to give an effective cover. It wasn’t until we were halfway down the fifth alley that Ginger yelled, “Stop.”

  I did as commanded, her voice sufficiently abrupt as to have caused my heart to leap into my mouth. “What?” I asked, panting. “What do you see?”

  “There.” Ginger raised her hand and pointed to my left. I turned and looked and found myself staring at a solid hedge. Twisting back the other way, I noticed the view from the house on the other side was blocked by a large, old carriage house.

  “This spot could work,” I said.

  “Darn skippy,” Ginger answered, “but look how long it took us to find this place. The killer wouldn’t have had this much time to waste.”

  “Maybe the murderer scoped out the hideaway beforehand?”

  “You think so?”

  “The killer knew the time and place for the wedding. It would have been simple work to drive around a day or two earlier to discover this place. Then on the wedding day, he or she could have picked up Gary and come straight here.”

  Ginger shuddered. “That’s darn cold-blooded.”

  “Pretty much, yes. This murder was obviously carefully planned.”

  “Who could have hated Gary that much?”

  “Beats me. That’s what we’re going to have to figure out, if we want to help to the police.”

  “Maybe we’ve tackled too big a gorilla?”

  “Hey,” I said. “This investigation wasn’t my idea.”

  “Too true.”

  “Seen enough?”

  Ginger nodded. I eased the gas pedal toward the floorboard and listened to gravel crunch beneath the tires. We moved on, leaving the alley and its probable murder site behind us. As I drove, I decided it was time for me to ask my all important but touchy question.

  “Ginger.” I cleared my throat.

  “What?”

  “Ah... why did you arrive at the church so late the day of the wedding?”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me. You’ve never filled me in on why you were late. I mean that seems a lit
tle callous on your cousin’s wedding day. Cordelia told me you scared her half to death.”

  “Well, it wasn’t because I murdered Gary,” Ginger snapped.

  “I never said you did.”

  Ginger sighed and said, “You can blame Lucinda Breese. She’s been a client since day one… and always on Saturdays. I tried to cancel her appointment, and she threatened to take her business elsewhere. I wasn’t worried on that score. I’m never short of customers. We keep three chairs filled in my shop at all times, but, well, Lucinda has been so loyal for so long that I just had to work her in... even though it nearly made me late to the wedding.”

  “Hmm, I think you were more considerate than I would have been.”

  “Are you kidding me? You run around anywhere at any time to cover any event within two counties. I’d never let myself get dragged around by my nose as much as you do.”

  “That’s entirely due to the nature of my job,” I said, enunciating carefully so I didn’t let my displeasure show.

  ***

  After my outing with Ginger, I returned home tired, damp, and grumbling to myself about rain in particular and life in general. But the news that Josh had called while I was out, gave me an immediate lift.

  "Hi there," a friendly male voice said when I returned his call. "What have you been up to? I tried to reach you earlier."

  “Yes, so Dad informed me. I was off with a friend running a little errand. Nothing major. So what’s cooking?”

  "I was hoping you’d join me for some after-dinner coffee."

  "I'd love to."

  "I'll pick you up in ten?"

  "Perfect."

  I slipped on dry clothes, tossed on a fresh coat of lipstick, and waved a hairdryer over my locks. But all that was easy compared to the task ahead: getting past the newly installed dragon downstairs.

  "So where are you off to?" Dad asked. Taffy was curled up in his lap. Dad stroked her head while studying me.

  "Out for coffee,” I responded.

  "With whom?"

  "Oh, honestly Dad. You need to take a step back. I'm a grown, intelligent woman. I can take care of myself."

  "You're presuming killers appreciate intelligence. They don't. They think on a whole different level than we do."

  "That might be. But I'm not hanging around the house until someone's caught. I'm just not.”

  A deep, red flush of anger started at Dad’s neck and quickly mounted higher.

  I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek in an attempt to make up for my open rebellion. Then, I made a quick dash for the door.

  While I stood on the curb out front, my promise to invite Ginger along the next time Josh asked me out returned to me. I could have made the call. I had my cell phone in my purse. But somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to carry through on the agreement.

  With a nod to my uneasy conscience, I promised to include her the next time we went out.

  Fortunately just then, I spied Josh's SUV roaring down the block toward me. He pulled up to the curb. I climbed inside.

  "Greetings," he said. "Where to?"

  "I can’t think of much open this time of night except the local burger joint. At least their coffee is good."

  "Okay, which way do I go?"

  I fed him instructions, and we were soon underway.

  “Your father’s articles today were very well done.”

  “Thank you. My dad’s an exceptional writer.”

  “I especially appreciated the piece on Gary’s background. I feel I know him better now.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell him.”

  I glanced out the window and watched the familiar landscape roll by.

  “Remember Ginger?” I asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Gossford took her in for questioning last night.”

  “What happened?”

  “It seems that call Gary got came from Ginger's cell phone.”

  Josh whistled. “That doesn't sound good. Do the police suspect she’s the killer?”

  “I don’t think so. Apparently her cell phone was stolen Friday night. So she couldn’t have made the call.”

  “That’s a help. At least they can track down a cell phone.”

  “Right.” I’d seen that kind of thing done in crime dramas on TV.

  “It’s too bad she didn’t know how to search out the place for herself,” Josh added. “She could have saved herself some grief.”

  “Turn right here on Lark Street,” I said. After Josh rounded the corner, I added, “I thought only police could do that.”

  “Not so. A friend of mine lost his phone. There are directions on the Web to track it down using GPS.”

  “Huh.” I filed the information away. It never hurts to be well informed. And who knows? I’d misplaced my phone a time or two. But if that were possible, I wondered why the cops hadn’t found Ginger’s missing phone yet?”

  Gary pulled into the parking lot at Howies. On entering the restaurant, we found it nearly empty. A cluster of teens sat in one corner downing fries and cola. An elderly woman sat tapping on the keyboard of her laptop near the window. A group of young adults in the middle of the room were trading stories and sharing laughs. The aroma of beef and onions lingered in the air from the dinner hour. The bright overhead lighting emphasized the whiteness of the restaurant walls.

  “You go ahead and grab a table," Josh said. "I'll pick up the coffees.

  I chose a spot a decent distance away from everyone else. And within a very few minutes Josh joined me. He slid two cups onto the table and took a seat opposite me. He fished a couple of packets of sweetener and dry cream from his shirt pocket. He grinned. "I wasn't sure what you took in your coffee."

  I smiled in return. "Black's fine. But thank you for the options."

  "Your welcome." He removed the lid from his cup and blew across the rim.

  “How’s life treating you at the bed and breakfast?” I asked, trying to picture Josh relaxing among all that lace.

  “I sleep just fine once I turn the lights out.”

  I laughed. “It actually does an excellent business.”

  “Just not with many single people, right?”

  “Correct. So other than counting rosebuds what have you been up to today? Has Cloverton offered you any clues to your past?" I took a sip of coffee. Which was rich, and strong, and hot.

  "I began my day at the high school. Studied the yearbooks there. Looked through the pictures of Mom and her sister. Noted what clubs she had been in and such.”

  “You didn’t know all this stuff already?”

  Josh scowled. "Mom never talked much about herself, and she never referred to Cloverton.”

  “My Dad went to school with your mom and Violet. He’d like you to come to dinner. He’s willing to share his stories about the sisters.”

  “Really?”

  “Indeed.”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  "And after you finished up at the high school?" I prompted.

  "I went to the library. Prowled through the local history section. Learned Mom's family arrived here early and stayed late. Nothing earth shattering but it was all interesting to a son who knows almost nothing of his mom’s background. Then, after lunch, I drove out to Cloverton Lake. It's pretty out there."

  “Yes, it is. But it’s not just the lake. The whole of Cloverton is pretty to me.”

  “You’re right. Maybe that’s why this town seems such an odd setting for a murder.”

  I appreciated the compliment on our little village. “I keep wondering who the murderer is, and I’m also half afraid of finding out. Ginger accused me of wanting the killer to be an outsider. Someone I don’t know.”

  “I could understand that.”

  I caught a blur of movement out of the corner of my eye and glanced over to find Alan Larkin approaching our table. I swallowed back a groan. How like him to interrupt us, I thought. He noticed that I’d spotted him and offered me one of his wry grins.

&nb
sp; "Hi there,” he said, when he reached our table. “What are you two up to?" He put down his tray and extended a hand toward Josh. “Alan Larkin,” he said, “and you are?”

  “Josh Devon.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  I was just about to offer up a negative reply when Larkin cut me off with a smile. “Thank you. It’s very kind of you to include me.” He seated himself between us.

  Beneath the table, my foot slammed the floor

  "From a distance," Larkin continued, "you two looked lost in deep conversation. What kind of plots have you been hatching?” He picked up a fry and popped it into his mouth.

  "Ah…” I offered up and then stopped. Somehow I was reluctant to fill him in on what Josh and I were doing here.

  But Josh smiled at Larkin over his coffee. "We’ve been speculating about who killed Gary Pepper.”

  Larkin nodded. “There’s probably plenty of people doing that tonight. Newspaper story just coming out today and all. By the way, that was some piece your daddy put together.”

  “Thank you,” I said, resisting the urge to snarl.

  Larkin shot me a meaningful glance. "And speculating on murders is fine as long as that’s all it is — speculation.”

  I shifted in my seat and told myself Larkin couldn’t possibly know about my activities with Ginger. No way.

  "Murder investigations are best left to the professionals," he said, looking at me with his eyebrows raised.

  My stomach banged into my toes.

  "Ah, Alan is a deputy sheriff," I explained for Josh’s benefit.

  "A deputy sheriff who is someday planning to run for sheriff," Larkin added as he offered up a decidedly political-looking smile.

  My jaw dropped. This was the first I'd heard this idea mentioned. Heaven knew he’d never get my vote. If Larkin won election as sheriff, I’d lose my favorite snitch.

  "So what do you do?" Larkin asked Josh.

  “I’m an accountant with a manufacturing firm.”

  “But you live up around Chicago?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Larkin took a big bite of his hamburger. He chewed, swallowed, and grinned.

  I shook my head and wished someone would save me from this male, chest banging stuff. Apes and their mating calls had never much impressed me. Then I reminded myself that if Larkin wanted to bang his chest over someone, the lady was very unlikely to be me.