by Abby Reede
She knew she was innocent, but she also had been around the block enough times to realize that sometimes innocent people got railroaded. The papers and cable TV talking heads were full of such things these days, where overzealous or lazy or shoddy cops took short cuts to get a case closed to improve their statistics. Certainly something as serious as murder, and a murder in Fern Grove which had not seen a murder in Tracy’s lifetime, could qualify as such. But Copeland did not strike her as the type to do anything halfway or slipshod.
He had, for whatever reasons, decided to focus in on her as his number one suspect at the moment, but even as unsettling and nerve-racking as it was, Tracy knew it would pass once Copeland had dug deeper into the investigation. Even if her shoes matched the purported prints up at Lawson Cliff, it did not prove anything—she hoped.
The only unknown at this point was what Copeland had uncovered about her that made him think she had been responsible. Just because she and Becky White had been at odds? Like Tiffany had alluded to, if that was the case, then Copeland had a long line of potential suspects. However, for now, the whole experience was leaving Tracy challenged to remain in her normal mindset of being cheerful, outgoing, and always seeing the bright side of life.
Rose was equally concerned when Tracy gave her a quick call to fill her in on what was happening, but like her niece, she hoped this would pass soon. Once the truth came out.
“You think maybe that Emily Maher is behind this, Tracy?” Rose asked.
“It’s possible.” Tracy replied, as she reminded her aunt of the scene in front of Pastor Butler. “She was pretty upset at the notion of us taking away any business from Blooming Bouquets and the church.”
“Well…I know this is easy for me to say, but try and take it in stride and call me if you need anything. Don’t worry about the shop so much until this is all cleared up. Tiffany and I can take care of it.”
“OK, Aunt Rose…thanks. I think I will try and catch up on some of the sleep I missed out on during our mad dash to get ready to open up.”
Tracy hung up not feeling much better. She knew Rose meant well, but she was not sure the seriousness of her situation had sunk in. Sydney hopped up into her lap and soon Tracy felt her anxiety and concern over the investigation begin to relent. This little cat was amazing. Just as when she had come home shell-shocked when laid off from CMB, Sydney was again right there to comfort her. She gathered his purring form to her chest and wandered, mostly on auto-pilot, to the bedroom to see if she could fulfill her promise to Rose.
The next morning, Tracy felt better, but her night had been fairly unrestful. Despite knowing she was innocent, she just could not get her brain to let go of the interrogation with Copeland. He had made it clear to her not to leave Fern Grove while the investigation was ongoing, but Tracy needed to talk to someone with an unbiased, subjective outlook on this: her friend and former colleague at CMB, Isabelle Rogers. Isabelle had been part of those purged along with Tracy at CMB, even though she had been one of its top legal advisors. They had commiserated and supported one another all during the fallout. She needed her thoughts and opinion to balance against the highly biased support she had gotten from Rose.
After some catching up and general chit-chat with Isabelle, Tracy launched into the real reason she had called.
“They think you what?” she exclaimed on the other end of her phone.
Tracy just smiled.
“No evidence, no witness…just some circumstantial footprints and the fact that you did not like this witch? Did you mention to this Copeland that most of Fern Grove felt the same about her?”
“I did. Something tells me there is someone or maybe a few someones in town that have directed him my way. Becky did have her supporters—not many but the ones she had were loyal.
“You want to get out of Fern Grove for a bit? Maybe come up here and just forget about all this for a while?”
“Izzy, I’d love to, but Copeland was pretty adamant that I not leave Fern Grove for the time being.”
“OK…but if you need anything, Tracy, you call me. Criminal law is not my forte, but if this thing snowballs on you, I’ve got connections. Do not let this junior G-man walk all over you.”
“Sure. And thanks, Izzy…”
Tracy felt better knowing she had a legal beagle to ring up just in case, though she seriously doubted it would be necessary. She looked at Sydney still lounging in bed and was sorely tempted, but what she really needed was some fresh air to clear her head and a nice stroll around town seemed like the ticket. A few minutes into her walk, Tracy was feeling the effects of a poor night’s sleep and detoured to a coffee shop to get an infusion of caffeine. Grind It Out was her favorite, but taking recent history into account, she opted for the chain, Larimer’s, instead. Along the way she found herself in front of First Baptist Church and spied a lovely garden that she did not remember. But seeing as how her church-going days had come to an end long ago, the new plot very well could have been there for some time.
The unique and attractive display was quite eye-catching and Tracy could not help herself and wandered into the small courtyard to take a closer look. This new partnership with Rose had changed how she looked at flowers these days, and she was always on the outlook for new ideas and designs. She flinched suddenly as a familiar voice came up behind her.
“So, this is what it takes to get you to come to the parish?” said the calm and welcoming voice of Pastor Butler.
“Oh, Pastor…” Tracy replied, “you startled me.”
He walked over to her and together they just surveyed the details of the colorful plants.
“Very impressive, Pastor.”
“Thanks, but actually the design is from Rose. She and Frank put it together for us just before he took ill. They laid out the basic design and we just fill in where needed these days.”
Tracy was initially surprised, but as she looked closer, she could see her aunt’s hand all over the garden. Pastor Butler touched her gently on the shoulder.
“I heard about you getting hauled into the police station and getting the third degree over the Becky White incident.”
Tracy sighed with resignation, forgetting for the moment that she was no longer in Portland.
“You heard already?”
“In small towns, news travels fast, Tracy…especially bad news or something especially gossip-worthy.”
He guided her to a bench in the garden and they sat while Tracy gave him a quick overview of how Copeland seemed to be zeroing in on her as the sole suspect. He let her talk and just listened as she lamented how she felt he had jumped to some hasty conclusions based on pretty flimsy evidence.
Being in the clergy, Butler was also a very good psychologist when necessary and knew when to talk and when to just listen. He saw the look of uncertainty in her eyes and even as little as he knew Tracy, he knew this was out of character for her.
“Copeland is just doing his job, Tracy. I know it seems a bit harsh and maybe even unfounded, but I know Warren Copeland. Tough, but fair at his job, so I hear. He’s just being thorough and covering all aspects of the investigation, I think. He’s a pillar of the community here in the county. He even volunteers quite a bit here at the parish. That large circle of rose bushes you see in the center there?”
Butler pointed out the expansive grouping of yellow and red and peach roses.
“He put those in himself just this past spring.”
Tracy nodded and then looked directly at Pastor Butler.
“Mind if I ask you a question, Pastor?”
“It depends on how picky you are about the answer.”
Tracy laughed with him remembering that it was his sense of humor that attracted many parishioners.
“I know I did not kill her. And I would hazard a guess that you do not think I did either. If it is not too personal, who do you think did?”
Butler grinned and laughed.
“I am sure this thought has not escaped you, Tracy, but based on Be
cky’s…shall we say…difficult personality…I would say that is hard to narrow down. It could be virtually anyone, you know?”
Just then, John White passed them by as he walked down the street which ran along the edge of the church. He waved and said hello and they returned the greeting, but he did not break his stride and moved on. Butler straightened up in his seat and looked at Tracy.
“Like him for example…”
8
T racy let a few days go by and then she could no longer stand just sitting around her apartment any longer wringing her hands and waiting to see if Copeland came calling again. Nothing more had come from the detective or his staff regarding her as a person of interest in the Becky White homicide. She got Sydney settled for the day and hiked over to In Season to see what was going on in her absence. On her way over, she mulled over the comment Pastor Butler had made about John White, but to her that seemed as ridiculous as considering that she had killed Becky. Sure, the police normally looked at the spouse right off the bat in instances like this, but John White? She just could not get her mind wrapped around that possibility knowing what she did about the man.
As she approached the front door, Tracy stood back, holding it open as a very well-dressed couple came out and they exchanged pleasantries. As she came into the shop there were only a few scattered customers mingling around, a far cry from the crowd that been there for the grand re-opening, and Tracy could not help but notice the downcast expression on her aunt’s face. Wondering if it had anything more to do with the couple that had just left, Tracy pulled her aunt into the back to talk.
“Is everything OK, Aunt Rose…you look down?”
“Not really, Tracy. That couple that just left? That has been going on ever since…well…you know…”
“What has been going on?” Tracy probed.
“People come in but it appears that until your name is cleared over this Becky White mess, they are skittish and hesitant about patronizing In Season. That couple, for example, would have been a big account for us as they are planning this huge wedding in a few months.”
“You can’t let these flimsy accusations aimed at me torpedo In Season, Aunt Rose. Just when we were about to put the shop back on the map!”
Rose shrugged dejectedly.
“What can we do? I cannot make people look beyond that and just force them to buy from us?”
“Where are they headed, then?”
“Where else,” Rose sighed, “…Blooming Bouquets…”
Tracy turned away and headed back out to the street and across town to Becky’s shop. As she eased inside, she was taken aback that everything looked like business as usual in their competitor’s place. She had not given it much thought, but somehow had assumed that it would be shuttered for a bit until John decided what to do and the homicide investigation had concluded. But to her shock and amazement the shop was buzzing with activity and to her further astonishment she looked over to see Emily Maher draped in a Blooming Bouquets apron attending to customers.
“Could I have a quick word, Emily?” Tracy asked quietly.
Emily looked up from her work and gave Tracy an evil stare letting her know she was not welcome.
“Sorry, Tracy,” she replied with a haughty air, “you’ll have to wait until we are a little less busy. As you can see, dear, I am swamped at the moment.”
Tracy did a slow burn, sure now that Emily had been behind putting Copeland onto her. She spotted the couple that had just left In Season and wandered over to them.
“Excuse me…Miss…Sir?”
They turned slowly and smiled weakly.
“Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could ask why you are not considering In Season to handle your nuptials? I’m Tracy Adams and my aunt and I run the store.”
The man’s smile faded away and his fiancée took up the lead.
“Just shopping around, you know…”
But Tracy did not relent and just stood still waiting to see if there was more.
“Wondering if there was something wrong at In Season or if you were looking for something we did not have, if so, we certainly could order it in for you.”
“It’s not that, Miss Adams…” the woman replied as her fiancée looked on, “in fact we loved the carnation centerpiece you have over there. And just between you and me…”
She leaned in to whisper so that she would not be overheard by Emily.
“Everything there is so much better than at this shop. More innovative, fresher-looking, greater variety…”
Tracy furrowed her brow.
“Then why are you here?”
Before the woman could respond, Tracy picked up the advancing march of Emily Maher out of the corner of her eye, making a beeline for them.
“Excuse me, Tracy,” she snapped rudely, “I really do not appreciate you barging in here and trying to poach our customers! Unless you have business here—real business—please leave!”
The “real business” comment was enough to push Tracy over the edge, but before she could reply, most likely in a fashion that she had admonished her aunt for when Becky had come calling a few days ago, the woman she had been talking to stepped in to prevent her from making a serious faux pas.
“Excuse me, ma’am…” the woman asked as she looked with severe annoyance at Emily, “but are you the owner here?”
Tracy suppressed a grin as she knew Emily had as much of an ego as Becky had once possessed. Number one, she did not like to be challenged, especially in public, and number two, she really, really hated being called “ma’am. The look of acrimony and indignation on Emily’s face was worth a million dollars to Tracy.
“Why?”
“Just curious. If not, I would like to complain to your boss as to why you are being so impertinent and rude to her. And if you are the owner, to let you know you just lost our business for a huge wedding ceremony we are planning. Plus, just who are you to interrupt a private conversation anyway?”
Emily’s mouth dropped open, but only momentarily as her pride kicked in and she fought back.
“As a matter of fact, I am in charge here until Blooming Bouquets is under new management. Someone had to step in and take the reins after this woman…”
She tilted her head in Tracy’s direction.
“Was responsible for the founder’s demise!”
“I see…” the woman replied. “I guess that seals it for us. Jared and I can certainly go somewhere else, then. This is not the type of place we would like to patronize.”
And with that, the couple turned and made their exit as Tracy smiled, knowing it was likely they would make their way back over to In Season. As the couple left, Tracy looked over to see the unmistakable figure of Detective Copeland coming in. He tipped his hat to the young couple as he held the door for them and proceeded to approach Tracy and Emily.
“I was surely not expecting to see you here today, Miss Adams,” he said.
“Just leaving, detective…”
He nodded as he looked to Emily.
“Wondering if I might have a quick word with you, Miss Maher?”
Certainly, detective…maybe we should speak in private?”
Emily flashed her patented condescending and arrogant glare in Tracy’s direction as she replied to Copeland.
“That will not be necessary…” he replied curtly.
“Morgan…” Emily called out, “can you take over for me for a few minutes? I need to talk with Detective Copeland. Probably about the security of Blooming Bouquets, I am sure, following the recent attack on Becky.”
Her sneer stayed firmly plastered on her face toward Tracy before she directed her attention back to Copeland.
“No, Miss Maher…I am not here to discuss your current security issues. Perhaps you should consult a private security firm if you have concerns in that regard. I am actually here as part of the investigation into the death of Becky White.”
Tracy did not think it was humanly possible, but this pronouncement
elicited an even darker and angrier look on Emily’s face. She was sure, as the old saying went, that “if looks could kill, she would now be dead.”
“How convenient, Detective Copeland,” Emily replied, “seeing as how the person responsible for Becky’s murder is right here with us. Everyone in Fern Grove knows it was her. It will save you the trip of having to hunt her down to make the arrest!”
9