Death and Daisies

by Amanda Flower

  “Why do you think every time I see you something must be wrong?” I asked.

  “Your reputation precedes you,” he said with a teasing voice.

  “Well, it just so happens that today you’re right, and Seth has something to tell you.”

  The chief inspector turned to Seth and waited.

  As Seth began to tell the chief inspector about Remy and Douglas Boyd, the shop phone rang.

  I hurried over to it. “The Climbing Rose Flower Shop, the finest flowers in Aberdeenshire. How may I help you?” I smiled. It was the first time I had been able to try out the greeting, and I hoped it didn’t sound over the top.

  “Hello, may I speak to Fiona Knox?” a woman’s voice came over the line.

  “This is she,” I said, hoping I came across as bright and cheerful.

  “This is Mary Macintosh. I was at your shop opening.”

  “I remember,” I said eagerly.

  Isla sidled over to me while keeping an eye on Seth and the chief inspector at the same time.

  I mouthed an answer to her unspoken question, “It’s the mother of the bride.”

  Her eyes went wide.

  “When we met, I briefly told you about my daughter’s upcoming wedding. I know this would be a quick turnaround, but my daughter will be up from London this coming weekend. I would love to show her your shop and discuss the possibility of you doing the flowers for her fall wedding. The flowers and arrangements in your shop were unlike any I have ever seen before. You have such a wonderful eye for color and attention to detail. I know that my daughter would be wild about your designs. Is that something you would be interested in doing?”

  “I would be happy to do it,” I said, trying not to show how eager I was. In my head, I was jumping up and down.

  “I’m so happy to hear that. What about Saturday at eleven? Does that give you enough time to get everything together?”

  “Saturday at eleven will be perfect. I will have a flower presentation for you and your daughter then. Does she have any favorite flowers?”

  “Not particularly, but the colors for her wedding are purple and gold.”

  “That gives me a start. I can work from there. Thank you so much for calling.” I gave Isla the thumbs-up sign.

  “No, thank you. I know your flowers will be the perfect touch to my daughter’s wedding.” We said good-bye and I hung up.

  Isla bounced over to me. “What happened?”

  “I think we might have just booked a wedding.”

  Isla squealed and threw her arms around me.

  I hugged her back but said, “We can’t celebrate just yet. We have to wow the bride and the mother of the bride with our presentation on Saturday.”

  “That doesn’t give us much time.” She dropped her arms to her sides.

  “I know. So we have to start working now.”

  Tears gathered in my sister’s eyes.

  “Isla, what’s wrong?”

  “I was just thinking, the best part of that was you said we.” She sniffled. “Like you and me, like we are a team.”

  I hugged her. “You’re my sister. Of course we’re a team.”

  She brushed a tear from her cheek. “I’m glad.”

  “Now, let’s get to work. We have a lot to do for this wedding presentation.”

  Craig snapped the small notebook where he had been recording Seth’s story closed. “What’s all the squealing over here about?”

  “Fi got a wedding gig,” Isla said.

  I shook my head. “I got a wedding trial, a chance to pitch my work to a bride.”

  “Don’t be modest. As soon as the bride sees what you can do with flowers, she is going to book you,” Isla said.

  “I think you will get it,” Craig said.

  I looked up at him for a moment too long. “Thank you.” I turned away.

  “Yes, well,” Craig said. “I’m going to have a chat with Douglas Boyd and see if he will corroborate what Seth said. If he does, it is very unlikely Remy will be getting out of jail anytime soon.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  His brows went up. “Yes.”

  “Why have you told me so much about the investigation? Like at the docks, you told me about the marks on the back of the minister’s neck, and you thought it was murder.”

  He sighed. “I’d hoped that by telling you little bits of the investigation, you would realize how dangerous it was and you would stay out of it. Clearly, that was a miscalculation.”

  I considered this. It had been a miscalculation on the chief inspector’s part. If anything, what he’d told me had made me more determined to find out what had happened to the minister.

  “Will you be staying here today?” Craig asked.

  I looked up at him again. “What do you mean? I’m trying to run a business. Of course I will be here.”

  “Good, because even though we caught Remy, a murderer is still on the loose. Remy might have killed the minister, but until we are certain, I want you stay put.”

  I thought of the note that had been left on my to-do list the day before. I almost told him about it, but then changed my mind. If I told him, he would put me under house arrest for sure. “I’ll be here,” I repeated.

  He lowered his voice. “Good. Because I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially before I can take you out on a proper date.”

  I glanced at my sister and Seth, who were standing with their heads together across the room. “Chief Inspector Craig, are you asking me out?”

  “If I were, would you go?” he asked.

  “Probably.”

  He smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes, so yes, I would like to go on a real date with you. No murder talk, just you and me.”

  “I’d like that too,” I whispered.

  He glanced at my sister and Seth, who were still in their own little world; then he leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Good.” With that, he went out the door, leaving me standing in the middle of the Climbing Rose in a daze.

  Seth left shortly after Craig, saying that he was going to look for a job. I was happy to hear that. Maybe being in a relationship with my sister was just the motivation he needed to get his act together.

  An hour later, Isla and I were at the front counter sketching out a plan for the wedding when Kipling strode into the shop. I had many flowers on the counter and was trying to see what worked best for the purple-and-gold theme.

  I wiped my hands on a cloth to remove the pollen left by the flowers. “Hello, Kipling, what can I help you with?”

  He puffed out his chest. “Nothing. I’m here to stand guard.”

  Isla blinked at him. “He’s kidding, right?”

  “He better be kidding,” I said.

  Kipling shook his head stubbornly. “Chief Inspector Craig said that I was to keep my eye on you until the murderer is apprehended.”

  I groaned. And here I had trusted that Craig believed me that I would stay in the flower shop all day. “If Craig thinks I’m in so much danger, why didn’t he pick me up and put me under house arrest?” I couldn’t keep the irritation from my voice.

  Kipling rubbed his chin. “I believe he gave that some serious thought but concluded that you wouldn’t be open to that idea.”

  “He concluded right.” I ushered Kipling toward the door. “I also don’t need someone to stand guard over me. The Climbing Rose is in the middle of the village right next to the pub. There is no way the killer will try to confront me where there is so much potential for witnesses.”

  “The chief inspector thought it would be best if I kept an eye on you to make sure you are safe.”

  I groaned again. I was about to open my mouth to argue with him some more when Isla said, “Just let him stay, Fi. It’s not a huge deal, right? Kipling won’t bother us while we work. We can just pretend he’s not here.”

  Kipling scowled at that last part.

  She clasped her hands in front of her heart. “Besides, it’s such a romantic gesture. The chi
ef inspector wants to protect you. It’s hard to find a chivalrous man like that in this day and age. I found one myself in Seth, of course.” She sighed dreamily.

  I grumbled something under my breath, but in the end, I agreed with her. I had too much work to do and no time to argue. I wanted my flower presentation for the Macintosh wedding to be absolutely flawless. I knew that if I bombed the flowers for this wedding, I might as well pack up my shop and return to Nashville with my tail between my legs.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  True to his word, Kipling stood guard over Isla and me all day. Honestly, it wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t talked most of that time as well. The one thing I would have said about Kipling was that the volunteer police officer could talk. He wasn’t as easy to ignore as Isla had thought he would be.

  Kipling stood at the front window. “Looks like it’s going to rain. It won’t be as bad as the storm the night the minister died, but I would say at least four inches of rain.”

  I had to admit that in the last half hour, the sky had clouded over, but it looked nothing like it had the night of the storm. There was no wind to speak of, and that had kicked up the night of the murder.

  Isla eyed him. “Are you a Scottish weatherman or something?”

  He stood a bit straighter. “Nay, but I have lived in Bellewick my entire life, and just like my grandfather and father before me, I learned to read the weather.”

  I had only a half hour left before I closed the shop. After that I planned to go with Isla—and probably Kipling—to the Twisted Fox for dinner and call Craig to see when I would be released from my guard detail.

  The phone rang for a second time that day.

  I repeated my greeting—I was getting quite good at it.

  “Hello, is this Fiona Knox?” a heavy Scottish voice said over the line.

  “This is Fiona. How can I help you?”

  “This is Malcolm from the church.”

  “Hi, Malcolm,” I said, surprised. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No, no,” he said. “I will correct that. Nothing is more wrong than what happened to our poor minister. That’s why I’m calling. We hope to have the funeral in two days’ time, which is not enough notice for a normal flower supplier. Would your shop be able to take care of the flowers? We’ll pay you, of course, and be ever so grateful if you would help us, since we are in a pinch.”

  “I thought Emer would be making the funeral arrangements.”

  He snorted. “She would like to think so, yes, but I am the one who worked with the minister day in and day out these last twenty years. I should be the one to plan the funeral.” He sighed. “She won’t let me take it all on, of course, but she said I could be in charge of the building and grounds. The cheek of her! I am always in charge of the building and grounds. In any case, that includes the flowers for the service. Can you help us out? We would be in your debt.”

  Two potential accounts in one day. Perhaps my business would survive in Scotland after all.

  “I’d be happy to. I was just about to close up shop,” I said. Just like when I’d spoken with Mary Macintosh, I tried to measure my eagerness at the prospect of more work. “But I could come now if that works for you?”

  “That’s good of ye,” he said, and ended the call.

  “What’s up?” Isla asked.

  “That was the church sexton. He wants me to meet him at the church to discuss providing flowers for Minister MacCullen’s funeral. If it goes well, it has the potential to lead to other arrangements for the church. Maybe even the weekly chancel flowers.”

  “Whoa,” Isla said, giving me a high five. “Fi, that could be a huge account. I bet there are a bunch of special events and weddings in that big beautiful church. It could lead to more business.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.” I grabbed my jacket from the workroom. “Can you lock up and go straight to the Twisted Fox? I’m a little worried about leaving you here alone. I guess the chief inspector’s paranoia has rubbed off on me.”

  “Let’s close now, and you can walk me to the pub, but I don’t like the idea of you walking to the church alone either. The chief inspector has me spooked too.”

  “Not to worry,” Kipling said. “I’m going with Fiona to the church.”

  I held up my hand. “Kipling. Really. There is no need for you to do that. That wasn’t part of your assignment. You were supposed to watch over the store, nowhere else.”

  He shook his head. “If something happens to you, the chief inspector will have my head on a platter.”

  “He does have a point, Fi,” my sister said. “And besides, I would feel a lot better if I knew he was with you. Otherwise I don’t want you to go.”

  I folded my arms. “Okay, fine.” I pointed at Kipling. “But I don’t want to hear a peep out of you when we’re talking about the flowers.”

  “What would I have to say about flowers?” he asked. “I don’t know a rose from a daisy.”

  We followed Isla’s plan, locked up the shop, and walked her to the pub, and then Kipling and I made our way to the church.

  On the way, Kipling talked constantly. This didn’t bode well for him not talking during the flower consultation.

  We didn’t even make it off Prince Street before it started to sprinkle.

  “I told you it was going to rain,” Kipling said in the middle of his diatribe.

  I grunted in return.

  By the time we reached the front door of the church, it had begun raining in earnest. I put my hand on the door handle, ready to pull it open and take cover inside, but nothing happened. I yanked on the door again. Again, nothing. It was locked.

  Kipling held his hand over his forehead to block rain from running into his eyes. “I thought Malcolm said to meet you here.”

  “He said the church. I just assumed he wanted to meet inside. I don’t have the church number to call him.” I banged on the door again, but there was a hollow thud, thud, thud and then nothing.

  The sky got darker by the second. There wasn’t any overhang to take cover under. “There is another door to the church around back by the community garden. If he’s not there, we can head back to the pub. I’m sure Malcolm would understand because of the rain.”

  Kipling shrugged.

  I led him around the side to the community garden. Rainwater gushed through the gutters of the old shed into the two remaining barrels.

  Beyond that, I could see the field of daisies bent over against the force of the driving rain.

  I walked through the vegetable garden to the back of the church. Kipling was right behind me. He wasn’t talking now. I supposed he had given up since I wouldn’t be able to hear him over the rain pounding onto the roof of the church anyway.

  I tried the back door handle. It was locked, just like the front door had been. I raised my hand to knock on the door.

  There was a loud bang as I knocked on the door again. The sound was much different from the hollow thud I’d heard before. I turned behind me to see if Kipling had also heard it, and found him crumpled at my feet holding his shoulder. Blood oozed out from between his fingers.

  “I’ve been shot,” he said.

  I stared at him, and blood seeped through his uniform. “You’re bleeding!”

  He groaned. “You have to get out of here.”

  “I’m not leaving you here,” I yelled against the rain.

  “You have to. The chief inspector said I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

  Another shot rang out. I ducked down over his body, and the stone on the corner of the church splintered and showered us with tiny shards of granite. I didn’t know how I could get out of the situation. Kipling was a small man, but I couldn’t carry him. I pulled out my phone and called the police.

  As quickly as I could, I explained what was happening and where we were. The police would be there soon.

  There was another shot. I couldn’t tell where they were coming from. I pulled Kipling around the side of the building.
It was no use moving him any farther. He was dead weight.

  “Run, Fiona. Please just run for help. You have to get out of here.”

  “Help is coming!” I promised. I stared to run through the cemetery toward the front of the church, but I saw a form moving through the graveyard in the rain, which was now coming down in sheets. I couldn’t make out who it was before another bullet pinged off the closest headstone.

  I spun around and ran in the opposite direction toward the chapel ruins. I ran through the daisies, crushing them in my haste. The rain became heavier when I reached the edge of the ruins. I heard another shot, which spurred my forward. I knocked into the one remaining upright wall of the chapel ruin. Pain shot through my whole body as the stone dug into my ribs. I couldn’t stop to collect myself. I ran on, and again I tripped over the edge of the pit and fell face first into the mud.

  The rain pelted my back, and I was wet and cold. It was dark, somewhere between night and day. I lay on my stomach in the mud. Painfully, I reached my hand over my head, and my knuckles scraped against rough stone.

  “There you are. Have you decided to choose your own grave? That was thoughtful of you.” The voice came from above me, but I could not distinguish if it was male or female. I wanted desperately to turn onto my back so I could see who was speaking. I tried to roll over, and pain shot through my right side. I wondered how I had gotten that injury.

  The vision! I was living the vision I’d had in the garden. And in that vision, I had been about to die.

  “I would prefer if you not move. It will make this much easier for both of us,” the voice said.

  I felt the sharp pressure of a knee in my back. Fear coursed through my body. I knew I had good reason to be afraid. A very good reason.

  Hands, strong hands, were around my throat. They were squeezing tighter and tighter. I gasped for air.

  “This won’t take long. Try to relax.” Again, the voice’s gender was unclear. I could barely hear it over the pounding rain.

  Two hands were squeezing tighter and tighter. It was just like my vision. I didn’t want to live out my vision.

  “I thought the note I left for you in your shop would scare you away, so it would not come to this,” the voice said. “You should have heeded my warning.”