Death and Daisies

by Amanda Flower

  Just when I thought she was going to ask me what was really going on, she asked, “How was the garden after the storm?”

  I gave a sigh of relief. Talking about my magical garden was far more comfortable than talking about Minister MacCullen. “All is well.”

  “And Ian?” she asked.

  “He was okay too.”

  Presha was the only person with whom I’d shared suspicions of the fox’s true identity. As a Hindu, she found the concept of my godfather returning in the form of a fox less alarming than others might have. Heck, I still found it alarming.

  She smiled. “You saw him again.”

  I nodded. “This morning. I wonder if he will always be there when I go to the garden. Part of me is afraid that one day I’ll go back and he will be gone.”

  She wheeled her cart to the long table I had set in front of the wall opposite the refrigerated case and started to move the white bakery boxes to the table. “Ian will stay as long as he feels you need him. When he feels all is well, he will move on.”

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I wanted all to be well, but I liked seeing the fox every day when I visited the garden. At the same time, I didn’t like the fact that he was still around because that meant that things were not well. The question remained, would things get worse before they got better?

  Presha arranged the pastries and cookies she’d provided from her tea shop for the opening on the table. When I offered my help, she shooed me away, and I floated back to fussing over my display window and prayed that villagers would show up for the party. There would be nothing worse than if no one showed up at all.

  Just before the party began, my sister reappeared, coming into the showroom through the back door.

  “Isla, where have you been?” I asked.

  She blinked at me. “I went for a walk.”

  Presha made last touches to the table and glanced over her shoulder at us. I smiled at her, and she turned back around.

  I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

  “You had everything under control. There really wasn’t anything for me to do.” She shrugged. “Sorry. Next time I’ll say something.”

  “Where did you go?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice that her cheeks were pinker than normal. It was the way they got when she was keeping something to herself or when she was outright lying. Why would my sister be lying to me about going for a walk?

  “I went to the harbor.” She stiffened. “I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.” She folded her arms. “I know I’m your little sister, but you act like I’m always up to something. Is that really fair?”

  I pressed my lips together in a straight line. “I—I didn’t know that you felt that way.”

  She wouldn’t make eye contact with me. “Well, I do. Not all of us can have our lives all put together like you do. You need to let me be me. I already have one mother, I don’t need a second one.”

  “I wouldn’t say I have my life all put together. I’m starting over here.”

  She shook her head. “But you have a plan of how to start over, and sometimes I feel like you’re frustrated with me because I don’t always have a plan.”

  “I didn’t know that you felt that way,” I repeated quietly.

  She looked at me with her big blue eyes again. “I have always felt that way, Fi. You would know that if you took the time to pay attention.”

  I winced. Her words stung. I thought I had been paying attention to Isla. I certainly had paid more attention to her than our parents had over the years.

  Our parents were wrapped up in each other to the point that they often excluded their children. And if it wasn’t each other, it was the farm that came in second place. The farm that had been in my mother’s family for generations, and she was determined to keep it viable. Both Isla and I had been a great disappointment to her when neither of us showed any interest in continuing in that tradition.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’m just a ball of nerves over the opening. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

  She frowned. “You worry too much, Fi. You’re over thirty now; you should really try to calm down. You need to worry about you blood pressure at your age.”

  “Fiona,” Presha said in her soothing voice. “The village is here.”

  I turned away from my sister and back in the direction of the front of the shop. My heart swelled as I saw two dozen villagers come through the front door. Many of them carried cards and gifts. It was far more than I had ever expected. Minister MacCullen might not want me in Bellewick, but the rest of the village was welcoming me with open arms. Their warm smiles and cheerful congratulations warmed my heart.

  I knew the opening would be a success. Isla had been right. I had been worried for no reason. It wasn’t until later that I realized I had all the reason in the world to worry.

  Chapter Five

  The visitors milled around the shop, smelled the flowers, and munched on the scones, cookies, and cupcakes that Presha had been so kind to provide. To drink, I had lemonade, Presha’s chai, and coffee. I even made a few small bouquet sales. I hoped this would be just the beginning of my sales in the village. It was far too early to tell, and I tried to follow my sister’s advice and put those worries out of my head.

  “Everything looks so beautiful. You should be so proud,” a round and red-cheeked woman said to me.

  I thanked her.

  She held out her hand. “My name is Mary Macintosh. My daughter is getting married in the fall, and as you can imagine, we are in the midst of the planning, which can be quite a challenge because she and her fiancé live in London. However, they are getting married here in Bellewick. I was wondering what you charge to do flowers for such an event?”

  My pulse quickened. This was what I had hoped would come out of the party. One big event could be just the thing to put me on the map. I tried to sound eager about the job, but I didn’t want to come off as desperate. “My prices vary, of course, on the number of flowers and varieties that you would like. I would be happy to meet with you and your daughter to have a flower consultation, free of charge.”

  She clapped her hands. “Would you? That would be just delightful. I’ll call my daughter tonight and ask her when would be a good time for her to come up. There is so much to do for the wedding; she will be back and forth between here and London quite a bit this summer.”

  I handed her one of my cards. “Just give me a call when you’re ready.”

  Mary smiled. “I most certainly will.”

  “I was wondering the same thing for the price of arrangements,” a voice said behind me. “Your work is so lovely.”

  I turned to find a slender woman with silky brown hair that fell in perfect waves around her oval face. She wore a pink blouse and tweed pencil skirt. She completed the outfit with nude pumps and silver beaded necklace. On her right arm was a gorgeous bright-pink Valentino purse. In her left hand she held a basket that was full to bursting with tea, honey, spun wool, and handmade cards.

  “I’m Emer Boyd. I’m the official chairwoman of the village’s welcome committee. We are so happy to have you in our little village. This flower shop has stood empty for far too long. We are delighted that someone with so much experience has come here to revive and start a new business. This is for you.” She held out the basket. “It’s just a little welcome basket from the community. Everything in there is made by local shopkeepers.”

  “Thank you so much. That’s very kind of you.”

  “It’s my pleasure. The village is so pleased you’re here. My husband and I were very happy to hear that the flower shop was reopening as well. There were many times that Douglas wished there was a place nearby to purchase flowers for the school, and it’s too much of a hassle to drive all the way to Aberdeen City to purchase the flowers. Your being here will be a great help!”

  For the first time, I noticed a man standing behind her about an arm’s length away. He was
bald, at least five inches taller than Emer, and outweighed her by thirty pounds. Even so, he was the more diminutive of the couple. Dark circles hovered under his gray eyes. He stood back and let his wife do all the talking.

  She beamed at her husband. “Douglas is the head teacher at the school. The children and parents absolutely love him.” She squeezed his arm.

  Douglas’s face turned beet red. “Emer, please.”

  I couldn’t imagine him overseeing an entire school. Perhaps he was one of those people who was just better with children than adults.

  I held out my hand to him. “It’s nice to meet you. I would be able to provide any flowers you need for the school.”

  He shook my hand, quick and firm, much firmer than I would have expected from this man who seemed to almost cower. “School is out now for summer term, but we do need flowers often, usually for special programs and at the end of school for award ceremonies and the like. My wife is right that I will be grateful to have a flower shop right here in the village. Although you will work with the school secretary much more than with me personally.”

  “That would be fine,” I said. “I’m happy to help in any capacity that I can.”

  He nodded and looked away. Oddly, I felt like I had just been dismissed from school. Perhaps I had misjudged him at first and he was the perfect head teacher for the village.

  “I was also interested in flowers for St. Thomas’s as well,” Emer said, pulling my attention back to her.

  “The parish church?” I did my best not to wince thinking of my last visit there. To arrange the flowers every week for the local church would be stable work for my business. There was just one problem. St. Thomas’s was Minister MacCullen’s church. “I’m not sure that the minister would want me to do the flowers for St. Thomas’s …” I trailed off.

  She shook her head. “You must be thinking of the incident outside our church last Sunday.”

  “When the minister didn’t let me inside the building?” I asked. “That does come to mind.”

  “I was there and saw the entire ugly scene,” she went on to say. “On behalf of the church, I am so sorry that happened. The minister should never have spoken to you that way. I was hoping that by hiring you to provide the chancel flowers, we could make up for it.”

  “I don’t know why he would want me to handle the flowers if he doesn’t even want me inside the building.” I smiled. “It’s very kind of you to make this offer, but I certainly wouldn’t want to put the minister in an uncomfortable position when he feels so strongly about me.”

  She winced. “Please know that the church doesn’t always agree with the minister’s stance on certain things. The church elders reprimanded him for turning you away. They sent him a letter asking him to apologize to you just two days ago.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Now the reason that the minister had stomped into my shop the night before made a little more sense. He was clearly furious over the church elders’ rebuke. He had most certainly not done what they had asked. I bit my tongue from saying that. I didn’t want to have anything to do with their inner-church dispute.

  Even so, I couldn’t turn down this chance to expand my business. “I would be honored if the church would consider me to provide their flowers every week, but I really need the minister’s approval to do it.”

  She beamed. “Good. I’ll speak to Minister MacCullen and the church elders about it at first opportunity. I don’t see it being a problem. The minister typically leaves such minor decisions about the budget to me, especially right now. Furthermore, I am certain that he will agree it is the best way to make amends with you. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he hasn’t already put the incident out of his head. Now he’s all caught up in the chapel restoration project. I’m sure you have heard of it.”

  “I’ve seen the flyers,” I said.

  She nodded. “The church is trying to raise money to save what is left of the original chapel that was built in the twelfth century. St. Thomas Church, as it stands today, is much younger. It was built in the seventeenth century.” She said this like the seventeenth century was last week. If anything was over one hundred years old back in Nashville, they turned it into a museum and built a fence around it. In Scotland, “old” had quite a different definition than I was accustomed to.

  “The chapel is crumbling as we speak,” Emer went on. “A historian is here this summer to do an assessment. Based on his recommendation, we will be able to determine how much money it will take to save what is left of the structure. Even without knowing the costs, the minister has been aggressively raising funds for the restoration.” She smiled. “So, he is far too preoccupied with that to worry about where the church finds its flowers for Sunday morning services.”

  Clearly Emer didn’t know how the minister felt about Duncreigan or me. Either that or she was a much stronger woman than I would have guessed.

  She patted my arm. “It was lovely to meet you. I will be in touch soon.”

  I nodded and was about to thank her, but my words got caught in my throat when the door opened again.

  Chief Inspector Neil Craig stood in the doorway of the Climbing Rose. The six-five, broad-shouldered chief inspector filled the entire doorway, blocking out the sun for a moment. My heart flipped in my chest. Craig scanned the room like he always did when he entered a new place. I thought that behavior had something to do with being a cop. Absently, I told Emer I would be happy to talk to her about the church flowers anytime and then excused myself before walking over to Craig.

  He looked down at me. I was tall for a woman, but I wasn’t tall by the police inspector’s standards. It still felt odd to have to crank my neck back in order to look him in the eye.

  I blinked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

  He grinned. “Well, hello to you too, Fiona.”

  My face felt hot. “I’m so sorry that came out wrong. I’m just surprised to see you here is all.”

  “I thought the entire village was invited to your grand opening.” He smiled, and his straight white teeth appeared from behind his dark auburn beard.

  “Well, yes, but …” I searched for the right words. “I—I didn’t know you liked flowers.”

  “Can’t a man like flowers?” he said in mock defense.

  I could see that this line of questioning was going nowhere fast. “Of course, but I just didn’t expect to see you here. It’s just I know that you’re busy, and …” I trailed off. “It’s a surprise.”

  “It’s a nice surprise, I hope.” Before I could respond, he went on and said, “It may astound you, but I do in fact like flowers. However, I like flower shopkeepers more.”

  I swallowed. I might have been slow on the uptake when it came to men. The fact that my fiancé had been able to carry on an affair while we were planning our wedding without me knowing was proof of that. But even I knew that Craig was a little bit interested in me when he made a comment like that.

  I blinked at him a couple of times. Eloquent to the very end, I said, “Oh.”

  Craig laughed. “Go entertain your guests. I don’t need you to babysit me. The place looks brilliant; you have done a great job.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured. “Take a look around. Even the back room is open to view. I wanted everyone who came to the party today to get a real sense of my business.”

  He nodded. “You’ve done a wonderful job. You should be proud of yourself. I know that I’m very proud of you.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing and turned to greet another shopper.

  By five, the party was beginning to wind down. Most of the villagers were still there, but they were murmuring about needing to go home and put dinner on the table, check on the children, and, for those with farms, complete evening chores.

  I said good-bye to people as they left and foisted baked goods on them as they went. As I expected, Presha had provided way more cookies and pastries than anyone could eat.

  I was handing anot
her villager my business card when Craig walked out of the workroom holding the note from the minister in his hand. He looked at me, his dark eyes wrinkled with concern.

  My heart went into my throat. I was about to ask what he thought he was doing reading a personal note addressed to me when the front door slammed opened. It hit the wall with such force that the windows rattled, and one of the vases would have fallen off its stand and crashed to the floor if Presha hadn’t caught it in time.

  Volunteer village police chief Kipling stood in the doorway, panting. He wore his usual uniform, a navy-blue outfit covered with shiny pins and metals, which likely meant nothing at all.

  Craig stepped forward. “Kipling,” he said, a little sharper than normal. “What’s wrong?”

  Kipling’s eyes were wide as he searched all the dumbstruck faces in the room.

  Craig was not struck dumb. “Get ahold of yourself. What happened?”

  Kipling held his right fist up in the air and cried, “Murder! Murder!” And then he fainted.

  Chapter Six

  The chief inspector knelt by the fallen Kipling and checked the prostrate man’s pulse.

  I fell to my knees next to Craig. “Is he dead?”

  Craig glanced at me. “No. He fainted. He’s been known to do that time and again when he becomes overly excited.”

  “He’s like one of those fainting goats,” one of the bystanders in the shop said. “The ones that can drop to the ground at the slightest provocation.”

  “Not nearly as cute when it happens to Kipling as when it happens to a goat.”

  “Agreed,” the first bystander said.

  “He’s going to be really embarrassed when he wakes up.”

  Several people inside the flower shop snickered at that.

  “As long as he’s not dead,” I whispered to Craig. “And what did he mean when he yelled ‘Murder’?”

  “I plan to ask him just as soon as he comes to. You can count on that.” Craig raised his voice, “Can someone hand me a glass a water for Kipling?”