“What’s bothering you? More important, do you want to talk about it?”
I settled back against his chest. “Not particularly, but it doesn’t have to be a long conversation. I can sum it up in two words—my father.”
Bailey chuckled. “Two words, but they encompass a passel of emotions.”
“Isn’t that the truth? I’ve forgiven him for running out on me when I was eight years old. I’m trying to accept him as the meddlesome busybody he is. He’s likable. He’s kindhearted. He has good intentions, but they always seem to backfire on me.”
“I sensed a coolness between the two of you at dinner. What’s going on?”
“Without asking me, Dad hired an interior decorator to do the upstairs bedrooms. He and this DuPree woman have been plotting and planning for the last two weeks, but he only deemed it necessary to tell me this morning before I left for work.”
“DuPree? Does she have a business here in River City?”
“Yes. Ms. Abigail DuPree is the owner of Par Excellence Interiors. When Dad told me he’d set up an appointment so I could meet her tomorrow at ten, I decided that forewarned was forearmed. I drove by her store. I planned to go in and scope it out, but I was overwhelmed when I saw the display in her front window.”
Bailey rubbed my shoulder. “That bad, huh?”
I wanted to wail my frustration but settled for a pitiful moan. “It was ghastly. Bolts of zebra-striped material formed the backdrop that showcased some crudely carved furniture. Accents of leopard skin, vases of peacock feathers, and, would you believe, there was a stuffed armadillo perched on a red leather ottoman.”
“It sounds … uh … unique.”
I snorted. “That’s one way of putting it.” I swung my feet over the edge of the hammock and, after a couple of tries, I managed to stand up.
Bailey sighed. “I guess our moment of togetherness has passed.” When I didn’t comment, he got up, too. Once he was at my side, he said, “Don’t take offense at what your father has done. Redecorating seven bedrooms is a big project. In the long run, you might welcome Ms. DuPree’s assistance.”
I didn’t answer because Bailey had stated the obvious. It was a big project, but it was my decision on how the renovated rooms were to be finished. Granted, I had turned the supervision of the remodeling over to my father, but I’d never dreamed he’d take on the decorating, especially without consulting me before he called in what he termed a “professional.”
As a florist, I knew color, contrast, and design. But most of all, I knew that my Greek Revival home did not warrant zebra print or leopard skin accents.
I tried to ignore the voice inside my head that told me I wasn’t being fair to Abigail DuPree. The whole point of a window display was to grab the attention of potential customers. I used that ploy at the flower shop, but I’d learned to soft-pedal the outrageous. Abigail’s mistake had been combining too many flamboyant components in one exhibit. If I’d been doing it, I would have—
I shrugged. Why go there? It was obvious that my approach to design differed from hers. There was no getting around it. I’d been put off by her window display, so I didn’t have confidence in her ability to decorate my beloved home.
The trunk of a gigantic maple tree blocked my view. I moved around it so I could see the house. I sighed with satisfaction. There it stood in all its historic glory—gleaming white paint; tall, stately columns; wide, elegant veranda.
My home. My pride and joy. My sanctuary. Or it had been until my father moved in and took over. I frowned as I pondered those last two words. Maybe I was being too harsh on Dad, too.
“Bailey,” I said softly, “am I wrong to feel betrayed by my father? It’s as if he doesn’t trust me to make the right decisions for my own house.”
“I don’t think he had that in mind. He knows you’re busy. He’s trying to help.”
My shoulders slumped. “I’ve heard that before. Remember when he poked his walking stick at that crack in the plaster and the entire ceiling came down?”
“I remember.”
“And what about the time my car was vandalized? My father arranged for salesmen to bring all those new vehicles out here just so I could choose one.”
Bailey nodded. “I still think you should have picked the Viper. That’s one hell of a car.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you missing my point?”
Before he could answer, DeeDee came out the terrace doors. She had the cordless phone in her hand and a concerned expression on her face. “What’s wrong?” I asked, hurrying to meet her.
She thrust the phone at me. “It’s the sh-sheriff. H-He wants to s-speak to you.”
DeeDee is my twenty-three-year-old housekeeper. When she came into my employment, she was a shy waif of a girl. Because she stutters, her overprotective parents had nearly ruined her prospects for a happy, productive life. Giving her the responsibility of running my household had bolstered her confidence. Now, I’m proud to say, she’s full of vim and vigor and even has the courage to speak her mind, especially where my welfare is concerned.
I took the phone, placing my hand over the mouthpiece. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, but if h-he’s calling you, it can’t be good n-news.” That was true, but I put a positive note in my voice. “Hi, Sid. What can I do for you?” I was prepared for his usual caustic tone, which was always present when he spoke with me.
“Bretta,” he said quietly. “I thought you’d want to know. We just put Toby Sutton in an ambulance. He’s in bad shape. The outcome doesn’t look good.”
Chapter Two
The news about Toby blew me away. My jaws worked, but I couldn’t form any words. I swallowed hard, and finally managed, “He was fine this afternoon. I’m supposed to go by his house tomorrow at one.”
Sid’s voice was gruff. “You can scratch that date off your calendar. The house is a crime scene now.”
I gasped. “Crime scene? Oh no. What happened?” When Sid didn’t answer, I said, “Please, I don’t need the details. Just the general picture, okay?”
“Hornets.”
I waited, but Sid didn’t elaborate. “That’s it?” I said. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
“You figure it out. You’re the supersleuth.”
I cringed, expecting him to slam down the receiver, but Sid didn’t hang up. I was in no mood for his game, but I knew that if I was going to learn anything, I had to do this his way. I mused aloud. “If hornets are involved, and Toby’s on the way to the hospital, I’m assuming he’s been stung. But what’s the connection between the hornets and his house as a crime scene?”
Sid’s sigh whistled in my ear. “They were in his bedroom. We’re dealing with a hornet’s nest that’s more than a foot across. The nest was rigged with a length of string tied to the bedroom doorknob. When Toby opened the door, the nest fell off the wardrobe and broke open.”
“Why did he have the nest tied to the doorknob?”
“He didn’t. A window was jimmied open.”
The implication of that statement hit me almost as hard as the news about Toby’s condition. “Someone deliberately did this to Toby? Why? Who?” I stopped, took a breath, and let it out slowly. “Is Toby conscious?”
“He made the 911 call, and was able to tell the dispatcher what had happened before he collapsed. The dispatcher could hear the little bastards buzzing over the telephone. Toby was unconscious in the kitchen when the EMTs arrived. They couldn’t get into the house until the hornets were gassed. It’s been a bitch. Keep what I’ve told you under your cap, Bretta. That’s it.”
This time I didn’t stall Sid. I’d heard enough for now. I pushed the disconnect button and handed the phone to DeeDee. “Run get my purse,” I said. “I’m going to the hospital. I’ll meet you around in front.”
DeeDee hurried away. Bailey kept pace at my side as I loped along the brick path to my SUV. “Toby doesn’t have any family,” I said. “I have to be there for him. I need to call A
very Wheeler, but I can do that from the hospital.”
“I got the gist of the story from your end of the conversation, but let me get something straight. Sid thinks this hornet’s nest was intentionally placed in Toby’s house?”
I nodded. “He said a window was jimmied open for access into the house. A string was tied from the nest to the doorknob of Toby’s bedroom. When Toby opened the door, the nest fell off the wardrobe and broke open. Sid said the nest is more than a foot across.”
Bailey muttered an obscenity.
DeeDee came down the veranda steps with my purse. The keys jiggled in her hand. She held them out to me, but Bailey intercepted. “I’ll drive,” he said to me. “You’re too upset.”
I didn’t argue. I went around and climbed into the passenger seat. Bailey got behind the wheel, and we took off. We didn’t talk on the way into River City. Toby was in my thoughts, but I couldn’t express my feelings without tearing up. I huddled on my side of the SUV, worrying about Toby’s condition, wondering why anyone would want to harm such a kind, sweet man.
Over and over I asked myself the same question. What was the motivation? Why would anyone put a hornet’s nest in Toby’s bedroom? But I couldn’t get beyond the fact that it had happened. Why? Anger slowly replaced the numbness that had taken over my body since Sid had phoned.
Bailey turned into the hospital parking lot. He had to circle a few times but finally he found a slot. As soon as he’d shut off the engine, I had my door open. Before I could get out, Bailey touched my arm. I stopped and looked at him. The interior lights showed his concern for me.
He nodded as he gazed into my eyes. “I knew it,” he said. “You were too quiet on the ride here. You’re already thinking about suspects, motive, and opportunity.”
I shrugged. “Mostly motive. I hadn’t gotten around to the other two—yet.”
“Just be careful, Bretta. I know you’re upset about Toby, but we don’t know what we’re dealing with, or who. A good investigator doesn’t piss off possible suspects until he’s gathered as much information as he can.”
I stared at him. “What suspects? I’m going into the hospital to be with a good friend.”
Bailey swept a hand toward the lighted parking lot. “Look around us, sweetheart. You’re not Toby’s only friend. I’ve spotted three Hawthorn Street business owners since we arrived. Isn’t that Abner Garrett, of Garrett’s Grocery Store, crossing the lot? Harmon Purvis from Purvis Pharmacy is walking through the hospital’s front door. In front of him was Diana Shott. I’m not saying any of these people are suspects, but I’m sure Toby visited with them, just like he visited with you. They may have information, but it’ll take skill and finesse on your part to retrieve it.”
He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Be cool. Listen to what’s said. Don’t be too quick to voice your theories.”
I nodded solemnly before I got out of the SUV. Bailey’s advice was sound. I hoped I could follow it.
We entered the hospital, stopping at the front desk to ask for Toby. We were told he was still in the emergency room, but the lady directed us to an area at the end of the corridor.
I knew the place all too well. I’d waited there for news of Bailey’s condition when he’d been involved in a car crash. That event had happened several months ago, but I’ll never forget my feelings of desolation when I thought I might lose him. He’d made a miraculous recovery. I prayed that Toby’s fate would be the same.
Bailey opened the door and I stepped into the room. When Bailey had been hurt, I’d waited here alone. Tonight all the chairs were occupied. I took a quick head count. Including myself, there were seven Hawthorn Street shop owners present. Several acknowledged me with a brief nod. Others offered a sad smile.
“Bretta,” said Melba Cameron, coming wearily to her feet. She owned a candle and gift shop called Scent-Sational. A dainty, middle-aged woman, she always smelled of vanilla and cinnamon. “I’m so glad you’re here. I phoned your house and a young woman said you were on your way.”
I looked from one familiar face to another. “How did all of you know to come to the hospital? Who notified you?”
“I started the ball rolling,” said Yvonne Pritchard. She owned The Treasure Trove, an antiques shop that was located a couple of blocks from Toby’s house. Nodding to her brother, Phillip, she explained, “We heard the ambulance race past the store.” She picked up a magazine and fanned her plump face. “When it pulled into Toby’s driveway, you could have knocked me over with a feather.”
It would’ve taken a substantial feather to accomplish that feat. Yvonne weighed close to three hundred pounds. She was a talented seamstress and made all her clothes, favoring smocks and polyester slacks with elastic waists. She’d had knee-replacement surgery on both legs and walked with a cane.
I said to her, “And you called everyone to come to the hospital?”
“I called Melba. We put together a list of Toby’s customers. She took half and I took half. It was quicker that way even though there are only eight of us. We didn’t talk directly with Mr. Barker from Merry’s Delights, but we told his wife, Martha.”
I asked the room in general if there had been any news concerning Toby’s condition.
Melba shook her head. “Not one word. But Avery Wheeler knows we’re here. He said someone would update us as soon as possible.”
It eased my mind that Avery was with Toby. There was nothing to do but wait. Since no extra chairs were available, Bailey and I leaned against the wall near the door. I forced myself to keep my lips shut and listen to the conversation. The topic was speculation on what might have happened to Toby.
Leona Harper of Leona’s Boutique spoke up. “What a sad situation. Toby is such a precious young man. Before Agnes died, I told her Toby needed more in his life than a bunch of busy shop owners. He needed a caretaker, but she wouldn’t even discuss the subject.”
Leona was in her midfifties, with blond hair and big blue eyes. While the rest of us were dressed in jeans and sneakers, she wore a buff-colored suit, plum silk blouse, and heels. She’d told me once that in her line of work, she had to be meticulously groomed at all times. She believed in facials, wrinkle creams, and using layers of cosmetics to achieve that “natural” look.
She shook her head. “I know Toby loves critters, as he calls them, but why would he bring a hornet’s nest into his house?”
I could have set everyone straight, but I bit my lip and kept listening.
Melba said, “Surely Toby would have known better. Besides, where in the world would he have found one?”
Diana Shott, who owned Buck-A-Roo, a discount store, said, “I had a nest under the eave of my house.” With everyone’s attention on her, she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. The swell of her breasts pushed against the thin material of her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but just in case none of us had noticed, she drew all eyes to her cleavage by toying with a delicate gold necklace.
Harmon Purvis, the pharmacist, seemed unaffected by her display. He smirked. “What you had was a paper-wasp’s nest. They’re cousins to the hornet, but not nearly as aggressive.” Lean and fit, Harmon stood over six feet tall and looked like Mel Gibson fifteen years in the future. “I’ve seen some large hornets’ nests hanging from tree limbs in the timber. They’re shaped like inverted teardrops and would measure about eighteen inches in length. They look like they’re wrapped in gray tissue paper. At the base is a funnel-like opening where the hornets can come and go.”
I wanted to know why Harmon was so knowledgeable about hornets, but before I could ask, Melba beat me to it. “You’re a regular walking encyclopedia of information, Harmon. How come?”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen some severe cases of hornet stings. I know the damage a swarm can do when they feel threatened.” He lowered his voice. “Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you all need to be prepared. Toby was on medication for his heart. This trauma to his body is extremely critical. We’re dealing with a life
-or-death situation.”
I hadn’t known about Toby’s heart problem and, apparently, neither had any of the others. Conversation ceased. The room grew quiet except for Yvonne, who sniffled into a handkerchief.
My throat was tight with unshed tears. Bailey took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. After a few minutes, Diana said, “I was too busy to visit with Toby today when he came by, but I got the impression he was upset about something.” She crossed her long legs and asked, “Do any of you know what was wrong?”
Yvonne sighed. “That’s partly my fault and mostly Phillip’s.” She gave him a hard look.
Phillip was a tall, handsome man in his sixties. He had a broad face, dark eyes, and a ready smile. Tonight his lips were twisted into a grimace. “I said I was sorry, Yvonne. I don’t know what more I can do.”
Yvonne spoke to the rest of us. “Toby came by our house early this morning. If he knocked at the door, we didn’t hear him. Phillip was in the shower, and I was getting dressed. When Toby didn’t rouse anyone, he went down to Phillip’s workshop, which Phillip usually keeps locked. I was in the kitchen cooking breakfast when I noticed that the barn door was open. I told Phillip, but by the time he got dressed and went to investigate, Toby had touched a chest of drawers Phillip had just stained and varnished.”
Phillip took up the story. “He didn’t just touch it, Yvonne. He left handprints all over it. Said it felt funny. Of course it did. It was still tacky. I’ll have to wait for it to dry, then sand off the ruined finish and start over.”
Yvonne stared at her brother. “But you could have been kinder. You yelled at him.”
Phillip ducked his head. “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have handled Toby differently, but I lost my temper. I’ll try to make it up to him.”
Abner Garrett, the grocer, turned to me. “Toby was real excited about you coming to his house tomorrow. I asked him why you were coming over, but he wouldn’t say.” His tone was light, but underlying it was a sharp edge. “What’s that young man been telling you?”
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