Lilies That Fester
Page 21
“No time. Trust me.”
“Without a doubt, dear.”
I left my purse on the floor so both of my hands were free. I uncapped the flower preservative. The white powder was smaller than grains of sand. If I gauged my action correctly, if Alvin unwittingly cooperated, I could empty the container, and the whirlwind would do the rest. But first I had to find a place to stand where he wouldn’t see me. The element of surprise had to be on my side.
The only source of light was the TORNADO ALLEY sign that came on when movement was detected. With that in mind, I shifted to my far right and pressed my face against the cold stone. Anxiety built in my chest. Where was Alvin? The ball of light had long since dimmed. He should have activated the TORNADO ALLEY sign by now. I tried to still my breathing. What was he waiting for?
A gentle breeze touched my hot cheeks. The air jets kicked in. The sign flashed on. I turned and saw Alvin at the same moment he saw me. He charged. I tossed the powder into the air. Instantly, the grit was sucked up by the wind and flung in all directions.
I quickly covered my face, but still felt the sting. Alvin squealed like a pig, but I didn’t look. I grabbed Effie’s arm.
She reached up and touched my cheek with trembling fingers. “That was damned resourceful, dear. You’re one hell of a florist.”
Effie was taken to a local hospital for a thorough examination and kept for observation to make sure her ordeal hadn’t put her health at risk. She didn’t attend the contest, and I barely made it myself. I’d changed out of my wet clothes, and had received eight stitches to the cut on my arm. The wound ached, but at ten after ten, I took my place before a room filled with eager florists impatient to get the competition under way.
Reggie and the Missouri Highway Patrol had taken Alvin into custody after his eyes had been cleansed. Bailey had stayed behind to take my statement. I’d given him a quick rundown of events, and then had excused myself to conduct the contest.
Bailey stood at the back of the room, his arms folded over his chest, his chin set at an angle that rocked my concentration. I forced my gaze away from him and to the four contestants—Robbee, Miriam, Chloe, and Zach. I smiled with what I hoped might be taken as confidence, though I hadn’t an ounce.
When Effie had walloped Alvin with my purse, the impact of the blow had shattered the compact disc case, scratching a deep groove on the playing surface. That CD had been the contest. I’d worked hard finding songs with flowers in the titles—“Days of Wine and Roses.” “Tiptoe Through the Tulips.” “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Anymore.” “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White.” Each tune had been recorded on the disk, and would’ve given the contestants adequate time to interpret their own rendition into a bouquet.
As the applause died away, I risked another glance at Bailey. In the excitement of giving my statement, I’d told him that the “key” to the contest had been ruined. He’d bitten back the “if you’d mind your own business” lecture, saying that something would come to me. Of all the people in the room, only he understood the task I faced at bluffing my audience into thinking I knew what I was doing.
I made eye contact with Bailey, and an unexpected peace came over me. I relaxed my tense shoulders. “Good morning. My name is Bretta Solomon. Welcome to Branson and to our contest.”
I paused when out of the corner of my eye I saw Bailey reach into his pocket for his phone. He listened briefly. As he returned the shiny gadget to his jacket, he looked straight at me, nodded, and then headed for the door.
My heart skipped a beat. Was he off on another assignment? Didn’t he get a rest before he started a new case? But the real source of my agitation came from the fact that he was leaving.
I searched my brain for a parting remark that only Bailey might understand. When I spoke, I heard the smile in my voice. “The title of the first category in our competition is ‘Butterflies and Flowers—the right combination.’”
The contestants stared as if I’d lost my mind. Bailey stopped and turned in my direction. He touched his lips with his index finger, then pointed that finger at me. “Soon,” he mouthed, then he walked from the room.
I wanted more, but for now, that would have to be enough. I faced the contestants. “To enjoy life you have to live it. Bloom where you’re planted, ladies and gentlemen. Take a lesson from the lovely butterfly. Ride the air currents, and let your imagination soar.”
Also by Janis Harrison
Roots of Murder
Murder Sets Seed
LILIES THAT FESTER. Copyright © 2001 by Janis Harrison. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
eISBN 9781429931601
First eBook Edition : May 2011
1. Solomon, Bretta (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Women detectives—Missouri—Fiction. 3. Women gardeners—Fiction. 4. Gardening—Fiction. 5. Missouri—Fiction. 6. Florists—Fiction I. Title.
PS3558.A67132 L55 2001
813’.54—dc21
2001041897
First Edition: November 2001
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Harrison, Janis (Janis Anne)
Lilies that fester / Janis Harrison.—1st ed.
p. cm.