The Azalea Assault

by Alyse Carlson

  “So moved,” Neil Patrick said.

  Several “ayes” were announced, and then Samantha said, “Opposed?”

  Silence followed, though Cam wasn’t sure Joseph had voted. Still, no one opposed, and Joseph could be disengaged that way.

  “Good. I’ll go talk to Ian now.” Cam smiled, gathering the portfolio and leaving the board to the rest of their meeting.

  All three of the magazine photography staff members were in the front room of the servant’s house, the two men picking at what looked like the remains of a catering tray.

  “Look, I met your friend,” Ian sneered at her suggestion. He began pacing and wouldn’t meet Cam’s gaze. “She seems flaky at best. No offense.” His tone was even more hostile than his words.

  Cam breathed out slowly. Obviously anyone would take offense, and this Ian character was an idiot. “I’m not asking you to take it on faith. I’m asking you to look at the portfolio. Where is the harm in that?”

  He walked off as though he had a thousand better things to do, but silent Tom, who’d been watching, sat and gestured for Cam to lay the portfolio on the coffee table in front of him. She obliged and then started to follow Ian, but she’d only gotten a few steps when it occurred to her she just needed to appeal to the other Garden Delights decision maker. Jane Duffy would have at least as much say as Ian Ellsworth.

  “Tom, do you know where Ms. Duffy is staying?”

  “The Hotel Roanoke. Probably easier to call her cell, though. Ian has the number.”

  Ian was the last person Cam wanted to ask for anything at the moment, especially as her goal was to undermine him. She took out her cell phone and was about to search for the number for the Hotel Roanoke when she thought of somebody else who might have Jane Duffy’s cell phone number. She pressed her speed dial and stepped out front for some privacy.

  “Daddy?”

  “Well, hello, sunshine! Are you all right?”

  “I take it the police have talked to you?”

  “They have. What a hassle!”

  Cam thought he sounded as secretly excited as Petunia. She wondered if there’d been some mutant morbidity gene that had skipped her, but she managed not to ask, because she needed a real answer, not a joking one.

  “Listen, Daddy, it’s awful, but it’s also awful because the magazine might leave if there’s no photographer, and the photo editor won’t even look at Annie’s portfolio.”

  “What? That’s outrageous! She’s a talented girl!” Cam smiled at what a fan her father was of Annie.

  “Exactly, but the other person with a say is Jane Duffy. You didn’t happen to get her phone number last night, did you?”

  “Of course I did, but I can do you one better. I’m picking her up for supper in half an hour. Why don’t you meet us at Arzu for a glass of wine and show her Annie’s work? Then she and I can eat supper.”

  “That’s perfect! Thank you, Daddy!” Arzu was a nicer restaurant with Mediterranean food, one of her father’s favorites. She thought this was a sign he thought highly of Ms. Duffy.

  Cam went back inside to collect the portfolio.

  “This is great work,” Tom told her as she zipped the case.

  “Beautiful,” Hannah concurred.

  “Any idea what Ian’s issue is with Annie?” Cam asked.

  Tom looked away, so Hannah braved it. “He said something about a psycho ex-girlfriend. I think she reminds him of someone. But then when he talked to her, Annie called his bluff on a few things, which he also doesn’t like.”

  “Ian said it was a good thing they’d gotten Jean-Jacques to be the photographer, because a dump like this couldn’t possibly have any talent of its own,” Tom admitted. “Then Annie rattled off a dozen or so names—a few I knew. I didn’t know they were from here. It just set Ian off. He likes to be the expert. It almost seemed like they knew each other.”

  “Well, I doubt that. Anyway, Jane’s going to look at the portfolio tonight. Does she trump Ian?”

  “She will when we point out he never even looked at the work,” Tom said. Hannah edged closer to Tom, putting a hand on his shoulder. Cam wondered if this was a romantic getaway for the pair. They seemed to want to stay.

  Hannah wouldn’t meet Cam’s eyes now, but Tom looked sincere.

  “Okay, so the trial is with Ms. Duffy. I’ll call you, or ask her to, when she says yea or nay, so you know what’s coming,” Cam said.

  She took their numbers and then went to tell the board the decision was in Jane Duffy’s hands and she would see the portfolio that night. Cam was hopeful. “Is anyone headed back to town in the next half hour?” She preferred not to wait for Petunia. She hated having things unsettled.

  “I can give you a ride,” Samantha offered. “I have an appointment in a little bit and it’s on my way.”

  Things seemed to be lining up perfectly, except for the new mystery about the tension between Annie and Ian, but surely that wasn’t too big a deal.

  Samantha’s Jaguar had the softest leather seats Cam had ever sat in.

  “Thank you so much. I really need to buy that car I have my eye on, but I’m still a few thousand dollars away from the down payment.”

  “Oh, honey, it’s no trouble. Far better to hold off and find what you want than to settle.” Cam thought the statement wasn’t about cars.

  After an awkward silence, Cam asked the question that had been nagging at her all day. “Where were you this morning, Ms. Hollister?”

  “Sleeping like the dead!” Samantha gasped, realizing what she’d said. Tears sprang to her eyes, and her knuckles went white on the steering wheel as she clutched it, but she didn’t comment for what seemed a long time. “You know I haven’t slept that hard since after my last husband died, and that was with the help of sleeping pills.”

  “But you didn’t take any last night?”

  “No. After the party I thought I might need one. You know it didn’t go well.” She looked at Cam earnestly and kept driving. “Joseph stayed for a nightcap. He does that now and again. We debated old movies and the true meaning of chivalry. He loves old fantasy books and movies full of knights and dragons and princesses—he joked about a duel with… but… never mind. Seems so awful, now. It calmed me, though. Joseph has some very old-fashioned ideas about honor, you know, but to me he’s like an old shoe—not all that attractive, but worn to a perfect fit. Neil stopped by, too, after Evangeline went to bed, just, well… you know… to see how I was—we’ve been friends a long time. He stayed for a drink and then left. Then, when I was alone again, I had a cup of tea and was out soon after.”

  “So you slept what? Ten hours?”

  “Almost eleven. I know it’s shocking, but Francine was here from six o’clock this morning and knows the truth of it.”

  “She’s your housekeeper?”

  “Cook, mostly. Though she does some other things. She says she tried to wake me at eight and I just mumbled to her through the door. I didn’t get up until after eleven.”

  “Samantha.” The woman’s first name felt strange on Cam’s lips, and caused Samantha to turn toward Cam, even though she was driving. “There isn’t anybody who’d want you to sleep that hard, is there?”

  Samantha paused, staring, but finally realized what Cam meant. “Do I think someone drugged me? Heavens, no! Who would? Not Joseph. Certainly not Neil. Nobody else was…”

  Cam wondered what idea had interrupted Samantha’s thoughts. Samantha seemed to have missed Cam’s reasoning, but that was just as well. “You didn’t happen to save that cup of tea, did you?”

  One eyebrow went down in thought. “It may still be in my room. Normally I leave it in the kitchen sink, but I fell asleep too quickly.”

  “I don’t want to alarm you, but it sounds like someone might have wanted you asleep all night, and… well… if you can prove someone slipped you sleeping pills, then if anyone thinks you’re a suspect that would help prove you couldn’t have done it.”

  “Oh! Do they think I did it? I wo
uldn’t!”

  “I don’t think so, no. But not coming to La Fontaine or answering your phone this morning is suspicious, where… your teacup would cancel that out. See what I mean?” She hoped she was reassuring, even if, had she been the investigator, Samantha would be near the top of her list. She thought an angry lover was as likely a suspect as a jealous spouse, but she knew Samantha didn’t know she’d overheard the fight. Besides, as part of RGS, Cam preferred to keep Samantha out of the limelight unless there was real evidence.

  “What should I do?”

  “Call Jake Moreno. You got his card, right? And tell him what you think might have happened. Don’t touch the cup again. Let him get it, and tell him what I suggested and why.”

  “Oh, Cam, you’re wonderful. Thank you!” Samantha then slyly changed subjects. Cam thought she’d had enough of the dark topic. “So how did you meet Rob?”

  Cam grinned. “At a Young Media Professionals meeting in Chicago. He worked for the Sun but was stuck in Classifieds. It’s hard to move up in big markets when there is so much competition.”

  Samantha smiled happily. “So you brought him back here with you?”

  “All I had to do was dangle that Roanoke sports reporter position in front of him.” Cam grinned at the memory. Rob had accused her of outplaying him, which had always pleased her, given how important games were to him, but the move had been good for both of them—personally and professionally.

  When Samantha dropped her off at home, Cam wondered again if it was possible Samantha actually had killed Jean-Jacques Georges, but the idea felt so foreign that she pushed the thought aside. She put on a skirt more appropriate to evening, slightly shiny, fitted, and black, and walked the dozen blocks to the Historic Market District and Arzu Restaurant. The bulky portfolio and heels made going a little slow. Her dad and Ms. Duffy were already seated at a cozy table when she arrived, and her dad ordered her a glass of merlot. Cam sat and flipped through the portfolio for Ms. Duffy.

  Jane was suitably impressed with Annie’s work and promised to call her colleagues. Once Cam pressed, Jane left the table and called the magazine staff immediately, though Cam thought her own unspoken threat to stay until it was done had a large part to do with her urgency. Ms. Duffy was looking forward to a little alone time with Mr. Harris, something that seemed even dearer now that she’d seen, from the photos, how deeply he could love.

  As Cam stood to leave, she looked at Jane Duffy curiously.

  “You know… last night, when Jean-Jacques was speaking French, you frowned like you heard something odd. I don’t speak French. What did he say?”

  “It was just… well, a beginner’s mistake, but he’s about as French as I am. He meant to say ‘once upon a time,’ but what he said was, ‘It was a cold.’ The words sound similar, but only a person relatively new to French would do that.”

  “So he was… pretending to be French.” Cam was thinking of Giselle and wondering if there was a connection. Mr. Patrick said Giselle’s accent and name had been Evangeline’s idea, and Jean-Jacques and Evangeline appeared to have been friends. She nodded and waved good-bye. There was no need to trouble her dad and Jane Duffy further, and she was pleased to have the photographer task handled.

  Cam went outside and called Rob, hoping to spend the evening with him. She had a lot she needed to sort through, and talking it out helped.

  “Jake and I were just ordering a pitcher of beer,” Rob responded.

  “Where are you?”

  “Martin’s.” Martin’s was a sports bar on First, only a few blocks from where she was.

  “I’m at Arzu. I stopped to show Jane Duffy something. Would you mind if I joined you?”

  “Not at all. It’s perfect, actually,” Rob said.

  “See you in ten or fifteen minutes.”

  It was just starting to get dark, but it was a lovely night and downtown was alive with activity. She hoped she’d spot Rob’s Jeep so she could put the portfolio in it, but thinking about that reminded her she really needed to inform Annie she’d just found her a job. She pressed the speed dial for Annie’s number on her cell phone.

  “Hey, Cam,” she answered.

  “Do I have a special ring tone or something?”

  “Of course you do! You’re my best friend!”

  “What is it?”

  “That was it. ‘You’re My Best Friend.’ Queen.”

  Cam laughed. “How long have you been waiting for that exact joke?”

  “Month or so.”

  Cam snorted. “So what are you doing?”

  “I’m naked!”

  “I think you missed that—I said ‘What are you doing?’ not ‘What are you wearing?’ With you, naked could mean just about anything.”

  “It’s true, but sadly, it just means I’m getting in the shower. On my thirtieth batch of cupcakes today, I ended up in a wrestling match with a package of Dutch cocoa, and I think I have chocolate up my nose.”

  “Tasty. You need a beer to balance that? After you’ve showered, that is?”

  “Duh!”

  Cam passed on details of where they’d be, deciding it was better to spring the photography job on her in person… and with witnesses. When she hung up, she made her way west on Kirk, then wove her way to Martin’s Downtown Bar on First Street. There she found Rob and Jake in a surprisingly quiet corner, looking at a legal pad, in spite of wearing muddy sliders and cleats. They’d clearly come straight from practice.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  Instead of simply scooting over, Rob stood, allowing Cam to slide between him and Jake. Men could be ridiculous, Cam thought.

  “Not at all. Griggs is thrilled with the story I filed today, so Jake was just walking me through the standard investigation process.”

  “Cool.” She was interested in that herself, but her own professional interests took precedent. “You didn’t, erm… How did the Garden Society come out in your piece?”

  “Not mentioned. Jake says we keep specifics out of the paper for a while in case it’s important to the investigation.”

  Cam let out a deep breath and relaxed back against the booth. Rob slid back in after her.

  “Thank you for that.” She smiled at Jake, thinking maybe he was slanting his information to the rookie reporter to make his own job easier, but it also helped her. “Annie’s meeting us in a little while.” She smiled smugly. She could see Jake was pleased as punch. “So any new info?”

  Suddenly Rob looked away, which wasn’t like him, but Jake seemed unaware anything was amiss.

  “The offended-boyfriends-and-husbands angle may be panning out; it’s thrown up a lead or two.”

  Cam nodded, still not understanding Rob’s response.

  “Er… Cam?” he finally said, looking around the bar nervously.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you know Nick was an ex-con?”

  “Nick?”

  “Nick.”

  “I’m sure he’s been arrested. He was wild when he was younger… punk rock or something…”

  “He did five years in Brunswick.”

  Cam’s jaw dropped. Brunswick was a state prison near Lawrenceville. It was a far cry from a night in a city jail, which was what she’d been imagining.

  “Seems he’s our likeliest suspect,” Jake said calmly, possibly not knowing how close Cam was to her brother-in-law. He took a sip of his draft and sat back. Rob had taken out a pen and was studiously coloring on his coaster to avoid her gaze.

  “Look, I know Nick.” She turned from one to the other, feeling closed in. “He’s a pussycat.”

  “Cam, it doesn’t look good,” Rob said gently.

  “Maybe not at first glance, but there’s a lot more to look at.”

  “Of course there is. Nobody is stopping there. He’s just the current favorite.” Jake sounded uncomfortable, finally, which cheered Cam up, but only slightly.

  Cam promised herself if he stayed a favorite, she’d find the killer herself. She would rather a Garden So
ciety member did it than Nick! She couldn’t take the idea of Petunia’s Prince Charming turning into a toad without a proper look for the real culprit. She stared into her glass, tired of both Rob and Jake at the moment. She wished Annie would hurry.

  CHAPTER 5

  “So… I thought you’d be drowning your sorrows or something.” Annie appeared to float up to their table in waves, her long, iridescent skirt balanced by her casual tank top.

  “We are.” Annie’s smart-aleck ways aside, Cam was very glad to see her.

  “With beer you can see through? How humiliating.” She gave an exaggerated shiver.

  Annie waved over a waitress and before anyone could protest, ordered a pitcher of Snapping Turtle, a local India Pale Ale. Cam was glad Jake seemed amused. She and Rob had an unspoken rule about calories, but she knew not everybody lived by it. Jake stood and allowed Annie to slide into the booth next to Cam, then slid in behind her. Cam was more entertained than anything else, so she decided to turn to more pressing matters than Annie’s beer critique.

  “Annie, I have a proposition.”

  “And I keep telling you—of course, as long as the ratio is at least balanced.”

  Cam rolled her eyes. It was a joke about threesomes and Rob not being man enough for both of them—in reality it was just Annie trying to get a reaction from Cam, which she didn’t, because Cam already knew the joke. Rob wasn’t aware of it, and Cam preferred to keep it that way, but he looked at Cam questioningly. She shrugged, feigning cluelessness, then turned back to Annie.

  “I have a job to offer you.”

  “Cupcakes with little flowers for a fund-raiser?” Annie teased.

  “Photos for a national magazine.”

  Annie was intentionally obtuse. “You’re offering me magazine pictures?”

  “I’m offering you national recognition for taking magazine pictures.”

  “Okay, remember the eyebrow promise? All bets are off. Why would I want all that commercial noise?”

  “Because one-point-three million people would see the gorgeous photographs you took.”

  “One point… Holy cow! Do that many people care about gardening? Why do that many people care about gardening?”