The Body in the Backyard

by Hollis Shiloh

  They talked for several minutes about this and that, the best sorts of herbs to grow, and Mary had some excellent advice that seemed simple enough that he could actually follow it. He ate a big piece of cake and was quite enjoying himself by the time he finally steered the conversation around gently to Clarence.

  "By the way, we were looking into Clarence's personal life, and there didn't seem to be much about it on the internet. Although apparently he has a dog he's very fond of." He watched Mary closely for her reaction. "Do you know if it was ever on his show? Or anything else about his personal life? Maybe he talked about it on the air sometimes?"

  Mary drooped a little, shaking her head. "I just can't feel the same way about his show now, can you?" She sighed. "I suppose there will be reruns, but his murder—and how cruel he was when he was here—I don't think I'll be able to enjoy them at all now."

  "I understand."

  "You said 'we.'" She gave him a close look. "Does that mean Gregory is helping you investigate after all?"

  "So far, he's agreed." He hoped he didn't look guilty, or like a man with a crush. Which he definitely wasn't.

  "That's lovely." Her smile seemed more genuine now. "I'm glad to see the two of you getting along. It's not nice to be enemies with one's neighbor."

  "I'm getting used to him." A smile flitted across his face. "And really, there are much worse things in life than growing food instead of grass."

  "Oh, yes. When I was a little girl, my mother had a huge vegetable garden and put up all her own vegetables. She also made jam and chutneys. We almost never had to buy things from the grocery store. I remember that everything tasted wonderful in those days—my mother's touch, you know. I wished I could be half so industrious in the kitchen. But—well, my Edward." She sighed. "He didn't want a wife of his grubbing in the dirt, or canning in the kitchen, as if we were too poor to buy proper food from the store." She looked wistful. "And then, after he was gone, I'm afraid I really wasn't myself for a few years." She looked into the distance, thoughtful and sad. "At any rate, by the time I could have taken up gardening as much as I wanted, I was too old and too ashamed to even think of digging up much of the backyard. What would the neighbors say? And I don't have the strength I did once. No, I've stuck to my herbs, and a few flowers." She sighed. "He wasn't wrong about me, you know."

  "Who?"

  She looked down at the teacup in her hands, fiddling with it, looking ashamed. "That man from the television. Clarence. He saw me the day before the competition, tending my herbs. He said some things about me, and, well, I just can't help but think he was right. He was terribly unkind. But...well...I always have been afraid to try for what I really wanted." She looked up, tears swimming in her eyes. "Do you think it's too late? I've gotten so very old."

  "Oh, Mary." He couldn't help it; she needed a hug, and he needed to give her one. He embraced her gently, and she hugged him back. "You shouldn't listen to that man, not now, not ever. And you're most definitely not too old. You've lived a good life, even if—if you didn't meet his standards. And, you know, it's not too late to have a big garden if you want. I'm sure Gregory would help you dig up a bed for it." He hesitated at the thought of getting dirt under his nails or on his clothes. "I would too," he added bravely. It would be a sacrifice, but, well, this was Mary.

  "You're very kind." She smiled in a watery way. "I didn't mean just the garden, though. It's—"

  She broke off as heavy steps headed with confident purpose up to the door. "Hello Mary!" called Fiona in her big, gruff voice. She sounded very happy. She walked in, carrying a handful of zucchini blossoms. "I remembered you saying you liked to fry these, and you couldn't get them in the store."

  She stopped at the sight of Abe, and Mary's tears. Her scowl was immediate. "What's going on?"

  Mary moved forward, an abrupt little excited movement, as if she couldn't help her eagerness. Her face was shining now, despite the tears. "Oh, Fiona, Abe has just said the most encouraging things! He's offered to help me make a big garden, and he doesn't think I'm too old at all!"

  "Of course you're not." Fiona's face grew soft and kind. She barely spared Abe a glance now. She was looking at the woman she loved.

  Abe had the good sense to let himself out.

  He hadn't needed to pry about what Clarence had said to Mary. She'd come right out and told him he'd hurt her. She'd almost certainly told Fiona the moment they were alone in the kitchen that day. And with Fiona as besotted as she currently was... He shuddered. It looked as though she was back on the suspect list, as little as he liked it.

  It didn't make sense for Clarence to go with her, but if she'd said that she'd missed the judging and wanted his personal critique or input on her gardening space, if he could spare just a few moments, he would have fallen for that, if she was convincing. Abe didn't know how good of an actor Fiona was. He certainly found her too intimidating to get into her car on a dark night if she had cause to be angry with him. But Clarence hadn't known, had he? He hadn't known Fiona would always be Mary's knight in shining knitting, if she could.

  Still, Mary wouldn't thank Fiona for killing a man for her.

  Abe couldn't see Fiona as being crazy enough to kill over insulting words to Mary, even pretty bad ones. But it came to him with a sinking feeling that he was going to have to check. He was going to have to investigate—investigate Fiona!

  Ugh. If only he had someone on the inside at the police force who could tell him who had been interviewed and who was on the suspect list. That was always how it went in mystery shows. You had sources. He had no sources, and he wanted to stay as far away from the police as possible, just in case he let slip a suspicion about one of his neighbors.

  And, really, Fiona was far from the only suspect. Love might be a strong motivation, but if one of the neighbors had killed Clarence, there was madness involved, and that didn't rule anyone out. Any sort of motive might be enough if one was just slightly insane, and deadly.

  He still needed to find out more about Clarence's personal life. It really was more likely he'd angered someone enough to kill him for a real reason, and they'd taken an opportune moment to do so. Besides, why shouldn't he get into a car with someone he knew and likely trusted? If he'd had the sense to know how much people disliked him and might want him dead, he'd probably have stopped being so hateful long ago. No, Clarence hadn't seemed like the sort to take any threat seriously. He'd have kept poking and prodding at people around him, the ones he didn't like and wanted to hurt, and never see it as putting himself in danger.

  I've got to go to the city and find out about him, even if Gregory won't come with me. Although I hope he will. He would feel so dreadfully vulnerable to go without some sort of backup, even if it was all in his head. Just having someone there with him would make him feel safer and less lonely.

  He tried to convince himself that it was a matter of actual safety, that there might be something dangerous about this investigating, or that it could be practical for some reason, but it wasn't true. He just didn't want to face his old hometown alone.

  He knocked at Gregory's door, and a voice called from out back, "Come round! I'm planting!"

  Abe stepped carefully. He was still wearing good clothing.

  "How'd it go?" Gregory didn't pause in his digging. He was wearing clothing that had seen better days, and now was seeing muddy days, his sleeves were rolled up, and he was gleaming with sweat. He was handsome, even like this.

  Abe studied him for a moment, trying to be practical about it. Why should a muddy man be this handsome? It should be far more appealing to see someone who didn't get muddy. But there was something so terribly masculine about a man who wanted to, and could, do all of his own backyard work, who was both practical and strong and knew what he was doing.

  "Mary didn't know anything about his personal life, but she did speak to him the day before the competition. She was gardening, and he said some things that really hurt her. Also, she wants to make a huge garden, and I told her we'
d help."

  "You did?" Gregory looked up, his eyes shining.

  "Yes, well, I was hoping you'd do most of the digging, to be honest," said Abe, regretfully truthful.

  "Of course." Gregory's gaze still shone, and he suddenly seemed to see far too much of Abe for his liking. It was a bit breathtaking. "What brought this on, though?"

  "Oh, she was talking about how her mother had a huge garden, and she'd always wanted one, but her husband wouldn't let her, and now it was too late, and she was too old. Anyone would have volunteered. I really do hope you'll do most of the digging."

  "You're a very kind person, Abe Arnett," said Gregory, his eyes warm. "It will be an excellent project when I'm getting too frustrated with this." He spread a hand around, indicating his projects and his half-dug-up yard.

  "I really would like to go into town and find out more about Clarence. I want to stop suspecting my neighbors of murder. Won't you come along?" Abe implored.

  Gregory seemed surprised by the question, but he didn't hesitate. "Of course. If you really think I'll be any help. I need to pick up a few things, and it will save gas to go together."

  "Oh, thank you." Abe was relieved. "Let's make a day of it. I'll buy you lunch, if you like."

  "It's a date." Gregory's eyes held a teasing light, but Abe blushed anyway.

  "Oh, dear. I'm not—I wasn't—" He twisted his hands together. What must Gregory think of him? "I mean, it's all very well, of course. I am gay, you know, but I—I wasn't trying to—to force you into something, or trick you. Oh, dear. You mustn't think of me like that," he implored.

  Gregory sobered quickly as the words poured forth. "No, no. I don't. I like spending time with you."

  Abe nodded, feeling humiliatingly close to tears. He did have a crush—there was no use denying it, to himself, at least—but it was so terribly painful to be under someone's microscope this way, for them to see him far too clearly.

  Gregory looked rather alarmed. "Look, don't worry. I'm sorry if I've teased you too much. Go on and get ready. I'll take a quick shower and join you out front. Oh, and take those baby beet leaves with you, would you? Put them in your fridge till you can make something with them. I don't want to forget and leave them out in the sun."

  Calmed down by these simple instructions and the gentle tone in which they were issued, Abe nodded and did as he was asked. Then he changed his clothes twice before settling on an outfit that he felt would do, one of his suits but without a tie, and his best walking shoes.

  He combed his hair neatly, then changed the part to the other side, then changed it back again. He studied his face nervously in the mirror. Had he shaved closely enough? No obvious wrinkles? He looked as good as he could, he supposed, considering his age, and the thinness of his face, and those big worried eyes that stared back at him.

  He really had been a catch in his day. It was hard to imagine it now, hard to imagine what anyone would see in a fussy little gay man who was now so frightfully old. He felt a bit as Mary must have, and didn't want to cry about it. He put on the best expression he could and went out to meet Gregory.

  Gregory had changed into clean blue jeans and a flannel shirt. He looked farm-fresh and terribly manly. Abe sighed inwardly. It was no good noticing—he knew that. But he wasn't blind. Gregory had broad, strong shoulders, and he'd earned his muscles honestly, with hard work.

  He turned and smiled at Abe. "Ready to go?"

  Abe nodded.

  "Good. Let's take your car. Don't worry, I can contribute gas money."

  "No, that's not necessary."

  "I didn't realize it was a sensitive subject, you know. I like getting your goat, but not if it's going to hurt."

  He uttered this apology so calmly, so bravely, that for a moment, Abe's mouth went dry. How could he possibly say such things so honestly?

  "No, I'm all right," said Abe. "You don't need to be sorry."

  "Well, I am, anyway. And I won't bring it up again and keep reminding you. I'm an idiot sometimes." He smiled at Abe. "Come on. Let's make a day trip of it! Though I should warn you, I need to stop at the hardware store."

  "Oh, dear," said Abe, thinking there wasn't a place he'd feel less welcome. And dressed in a suit, as well.

  Gregory laughed. "It's not that bad. I'll look after you," he added, not pretending to misunderstand the source of Abe's unease. "Besides, this is a pretty progressive area. If anything, people will just think we're a couple working on a home project together. Quite ordinary."

  "A couple?" Abe blinked hard, trying to cover his shock.

  "Is that so bad?" Gregory watched him from the corner of his eye.

  "Er, no. Not for me. But won't you be embarrassed?"

  "Not at all," said Gregory smoothly. "Oh, we forgot water. You should always bring water on trips so you don't end up buying those plastic abominations and destroying the earth."

  "Uh, okay," said Abe. He was still discombobulated about the 'couple' remarks. Did Gregory really take things so calmly? Or was he trying to hint that he...

  No, Abe mustn't get ahead of himself, or start making things up. It was ridiculous of him. And at his age, too!

  "Just a sec. I'll get some." Gregory launched himself from the car and back towards his house. He returned shortly with two glass bottles filled with water. Ice clinked inside. "There. Don't worry, I sterilize everything! You can have the one with the red lid. Think you can remember that?" He sounded a bit breathless as he put his seatbelt on. Perhaps he'd hurried more than he should have.

  "Of course," said Abe, and put the car in gear. He had a feeling today was going to be full of surprises.

  Chapter five

  "Drive past the hotel before you head into town," instructed Gregory.

  "Good idea." Abe changed course. "We can see what it looks like from outside."

  "And if there are any cameras visible. That would discourage someone, wouldn't it?"

  "If there were cameras, surely they'd have caught the killer by now. I mean, it would be a big clue—whoever he drove off with would have to be investigated."

  He thought grimly of Fiona. Surely it was someone else, though. Surely. He didn't want to have to suspect the town's one other queer person. It wasn't as though they were planning to form an LGBT club—he was pretty sure Fiona wasn't out, and didn't plan to come out, and since he wasn't dating right now, there were still people (even ones who should know better) who seemed to assume he was straight. He rarely bothered to correct the assumption. But he had come out to Gregory, confirming what the man already suspected, and that had gone just fine. (Perhaps the visit to the hardware store would, as well.)

  "Pull over," said Gregory. "Someone's putting a bunch of grass clippings out for the garbage! Grass clippings! I can use those."

  Abe groaned. "Don't say 'stop' that way. I thought something was wrong!"

  "It is. Grass clippings are going to waste. Let me go back and get them."

  "You're so bossy. Can't we pick them up on the way back?"

  "No, they might be gone by then. What a waste!"

  "They'll rot in my car and be gross by the time we get back."

  "Then, take me back with them now, and I'll leave them at my place, okay?"

  Grumbling, Abe did as he was told. It was really rather a lot of work to have an environmentalist gardening nut as a passenger. Gregory seemed quite happy with his grass clippings, however. He was careful with the bags, placing them in the back of the car on top of the picnic quilt Abe always left there, just in case. The car smelled of newly mowed lawns as he drove back, and Gregory hummed under his breath.

  Abe dutifully drove back to Gregory's place.

  "Be one sec," Gregory said, and hopped athletically from the car. After depositing his treasured greenery, he shook out the picnic blanket. "There, now, none the worse for wear!" He gave Abe a triumphant grin.

  Really, there were much worse things to get excited about than grass clippings. Abe drove them to the hotel.

  It was depressing-loo
king, with a driveway that needed repaving. They debated, then decided not to bother the clerk, who, if he was the same one as before, would not have anything to tell them that he hadn't told the police, and would likely be irritated at best, and would report their nosing around to the police at worst. If it wasn't the same clerk, he wouldn't be likely to know anything at all. They did examine the building for visible cameras from the car and saw none. That meant they were either well-hidden or entirely lacking.

  Seeing the place, Abe didn't think for one second they'd invested in some sort of high-tech hidden security system.

  "It's an awfully small place for a man like Clarence to stay. I'd have thought he'd want only the best. I'd actually think he'd just stay in town, at his place, and drive in for the day. It's not that far." Abe was thinking aloud as they drove off, and Gregory nodded.

  "Doesn't seem to fit his personality, that's for sure. Do you think he'd already given up his own home because he was getting ready to move? Maybe he was staying with someone, or at a hotel in town, and it seemed just as easy to get a room closer to us."

  "And maybe he found it online and it looked better than it was."

  "Anything's possible. It may be nothing. But didn't he live in the area? Shouldn't he know what's what?"

  "You would think so." Abe hummed, then pursed his lips. "You don't suppose he knew someone here, knew them well enough to want to be close, so he could, I don't know, catch up?"

  "Or taunt one of his old enemies, more like." Gregory snorted. "That makes as much sense as anything."

  "Hannibal said he agreed to come to be the judge as soon as he heard where it was, and before that, he'd already started turning us down. That must mean something. Maybe he had a vendetta, and that was why he was so nasty." Abe warmed to his theme, feeling as if a light bulb had gone off over his head. "Maybe he was so particularly cruel because he wanted to critique one garden in particular, and that was the only way to hide it. But you know he had the knack for hurting people—and we were all strangers. He seemed to know just what to say to hurt the most. That would be magnified so much if he actually knew someone and wanted to lord it over them how far he'd gone in life while they hadn't gone far at all. Gardening is certainly a symbol of that, considering he had an actual gardening show that had just made it to the big time, and whoever he was here to taunt would've still been in the same old situation, puttering in their backyard garden. Oh, that would hurt a lot—even if what he said didn't seem like a big deal at the time to anyone else."