“That’s just your imagination in overdrive, Lexie. We must have at least a few hours’ worth of oxygen in here before it begins to get difficult to breathe. Try to relax. Take deep breaths and exhale slowly. In the meantime, I’ll continue to punch in random four-digit codes. Who knows? I might get lucky and pick the code that unlocks the door.”
“Good idea. I’ll concentrate on calming my nerves.” As Sheila suggested, I inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Besides, Stone will probably know exactly where to find us, so don’t panic at this point.” Sheila’s voice was as calm as a windless day on the coast. But she should have known me well enough by then to realize telling me to stop panicking was as preposterous as insisting I cease blinking until we’d been rescued. It was not only improbable, it was impossible.
“I disagree. I think panicking is warranted because I don’t believe Stone understood where we were headed when I talked to him on the phone earlier. I agree we can’t just sit in here and hope God whispers our location into someone’s ear, but there’s got to be another solution besides contacting Stone. Keep trying to crack the code while I think of a plan.”
“No, Lexie!” Sheila was adamant. It was one of the few times I could ever recall her raising her voice at me. “You need to call Stone and own up to what’s happened so he can make sure we get out of here before it’s too late. We are in a life-or-death situation, you know.”
“I know, but if we do that, we’ll never hear the end of it. Getting Stone to agree to let me look into this situation took an act of God. Or damned near, anyway.”
“You would prefer to die?” The sarcasm in Sheila’s tone cut to the quick.
“Of course not. Don’t be so dramatic. We’ll think of something.”
“I already have. Call Detective Johnston. I realize you aren’t crazy about having to explain how we got trapped in a floral shop cooler. I get it. But getting locked in here only goes to prove we had a valid reason for wanting to speak with Lily. It’s not our fault we stopped by just to have a word with her and rather than being forced to come clean with us, she locked us in here. I don’t think Stone and Randy can hold that against us. If anything, it shows evidence of guilt on Lily’s part, and confirms our suspicions,” Sheila said. Hers was the voice of reason and calmness in the chilly room. “If we call Wyatt, he’ll have someone here to rescue us long before we run out of oxygen, I’m almost certain.”
“Almost certain? Would you mind repeating that last remark with a little more confidence?” I tried to chuckle as I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, but couldn’t quite muster up any counterfeit amusement. “But you are absolutely right. With the idea of being locked in a small, airless compartment overwhelming me, I hadn’t been able to look at the situation clearly. We should be commended for our actions, not chastised. In essence, Lily’s actions validate our reason for coming here to confront her in the first place. Finding the three stolen boutonnieres in this cooler are further proof of her wrongdoing.”
“Exactly. So call the detective, and then Stone, so he and Randy won’t worry about where we are.”
“Uh-oh. I was afraid of that,” I mumbled. I shook my phone as if I thought maybe a loose wire was keeping it from turning on.
That aforementioned “calmness” my friend had exhibited suddenly vanished like the West African Black Rhino. In a nearly hysterical voice, she asked, “Huh? Whaddya mean ‘uh-oh’? You were afraid of what? What’s wrong? Can’t get a signal? Did you choose the cheapest phone service available again? Please tell me you forgot Wyatt’s number, because we can find it via an online directory.”
“I wish I could tell you that, but I know Wyatt’s number like the back of my hand. You surely don’t think this is the first time I’ve needed rescuing, do you? The problem is my phone’s gone dead. I was so exhausted last night, I forgot to put it on the charger before I turned in for the night. No big deal, though. Just use your phone. Wyatt’s number is (816) 555-0206.”
“I can’t use my phone. I stuck it in your glove compartment before we came into the shop.”
“You what?” The panic and claustrophobia I’d been able to bring under control resurfaced like a blue whale coming up for air. “Good Lord, Sheila. Why do you keep putting your damned phone in my glove compartment? What good is it going to do you in there? Why even own one if you never have it on you in case of an emergency?”
“I was afraid I’d set it down and forget it, like I’d thought I’d done the first time we came here. You know how I am about losing things.”
“Yes, I do. I’m the exact same way. That’s why I wear a fanny pack and have been trying to talk you into doing the same for years. I left one too many purses in one too many restaurants before I finally got wise and switched over to a fanny pack. They might have gone out of style about the same time bell-bottom jeans did, but it stays attached to me at all times. So why didn’t you just put your phone in your back pocket?”
Sheila turned around to show me that her skinny jeans were pocket free and looked as if they’d been painted on with a sprayer. Sheila was nothing if not current with ever-changing fashions. I wondered how much extra she’d had to pay for all of the strategically placed rips and tears in her trendy new denims. I also wondered if she regretted her choice of pants. I’m sure the nippiness of the floral cooler was seeping in through every nook and cranny it could find. I’d already tucked my slacks into my socks to keep the chill from sneaking up my pant legs.
“Your purse, then?” I asked. I was starting to panic about our dismal situation. “You couldn’t have just put your phone in your purse? From now on, you are forbidden to put your phone in my glove compartment. If we live through this, that is.”
“Hey! Chill out. How was I supposed to know we’d get locked in a cooler? Besides, I didn’t have any room in my purse to put a phone. I have the new larger-screen model, you know.”
I glanced at her purse, which she’d be lucky to be able to squeeze in one of an airplane’s overhead compartments. I didn’t mean to be snippy. It was just my nerves talking when I asked, “Do you have to check that purse every time you fly?”
Sheila merely shook her head and stuck her tongue out at me. She knew how moody I could get when I was scared spit-less because she’d witnessed the phenomenon on numerous occasions during the course of our friendship. “Just relax, my friend. Surely someone will realize we’re missing and summon help. I’ll try more codes on the security box.”
“Fine.” I saw no point in arguing, despite the fact I felt her efforts were futile. It could take hours to punch in the correct code from the over ten thousand possible combinations, and neither of us had told anyone where we were going. I’d tried to tell Stone, but he’d been so distracted, he’d probably already forgotten I’d even called. He likely thought Sheila and I were power-shopping at Wal-Mart. The only person in the world who knew of our precarious location was likely the woman who’d made certain we were locked into the nearly freezing cooler, in the first place. A lot of good that was going to do us.
Sitting across from Sheila with my back against a shelf, I listened to my stomach growl. I tried to take my mind off our impending demise by thinking about the items I’d have to put on the new to-do list for a re-do wedding ceremony. Unfortunately, it was a good idea that didn’t work worth a tinker’s dam.
On the bright side, I soon figured out why Sheila’s phone wouldn’t fit in her purse. The girl carried enough emergency food in her oversized bag to sustain an entire Girl Scout troop lost in a large Tibetan cave for at least a month.
With nothing else to do while we waited, we munched on beef jerky, peanuts, chocolate-covered raisins, peanut butter and cheese crackers, Pringles, and even pastrami sandwiches. Who carries emergency pastrami sandwiches in her purse? Besides Sheila, of course. But on that evening, I was thankful she did. The comfort food was most welcome, even though the salty snacks made my throat dry.
“It’s been three hours, Sheila. I’m s
ure I’ve gained at least five pounds since we walked into this cooler. I’m certain to die of dehydration if I don’t succumb to hypothermia first. Did you happen to read the thermometer outside the door on our way in? It read thirty-five degrees. My teeth are chattering and my lips feel like they could freeze shut. We’ll be lucky if we don’t end up with frostbite.”
“I wish I’d left some hand warmers in my purse,” Sheila muttered under her breath. “I shouldn’t have replaced them all with that big box of Milk Duds.”
“You routinely carry hand warmers in late August?” I realized then Sheila would be the perfect contestant on The Price is Right. No matter what the game show’s host asked for, she’d be almost certain to have it in her purse.
“Don’t be snippy. I’m sorry I can’t do anything about the fact it’s frigging freezing in here, but…”
Just then, when I was certain Sheila’s bag could not contain another single item, she reached into it and withdrew a flask. She handed it to me, and chuckled at my questioning look. “Here’s some Jose Cuervo to ease your thirst and warm up your insides.”
“Tequila? Are you nuts? Alcohol is a diuretic. The last thing I need is to be found dead in a floral cooler with an alcohol level over the legal driving limit. Did you know that alcohol may make you feel warmer because it widens blood vessels under the skin, but in actuality it lowers your core temperature, which makes hypothermia set in quicker?” Sometimes when Wendy blabbers on about how one of her victims died, I accidentally learn a few interesting facts whether I want to or not.
“To each her own,” Sheila said. She then uncapped the flask and took a long swallow. How it didn’t burn like liquid fire all the way down to her toes, I don’t know. I was just relieved when she reached into her bag one more time and withdrew a bottle of water, which she handed to me. “Bottoms up.”
“Oh, Thank God. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to open my mouth to talk before long.”
“Yeah, that would have been awful,” Sheila replied dryly. Her anxiety about our dire situation had turned her into a cranky-pants.
“There’s no reason to be sarcastic. I want out of here just as badly as you do.”
“Sorry. I’m just a teeny bit uptight.” Sheila gave me an apologetic smile, and added, “Drink your water sparingly. It’s the only bottle I had and we might be in here for a long while yet.”
Her comment reminded me of something. “When Wendy, Lariat and I were here several weeks ago, I could’ve sworn Lily told Raven to get me a bottle of water out of the cooler. I don’t see any bottles in here now.”
“Maybe their supply ran out, or they have a separate drink cooler.”
“Thanks for pointing out the obvious.” I hadn’t meant to be surly, but the thought of impending death had a tendency to make me a ‘teeny bit uptight’ too. “I’m wondering how much oxygen we have left.”
“Me too. The carbon dioxide level has to be fairly elevated by now too. I know I’m starting to feel sleepy. How about you?”
I nodded, and we grew silent for a while, both of us lost in thought about the predicament we’d found ourselves in. I began thinking about Sheila’s earlier remark regarding Lily hiding the three boutonnieres. I reached over to where Sheila had set them down and picked up the plastic box. Gazing at them, I realized Sheila’s memory had been spot on. I held them up for Sheila to study. “What do you see here?”
“As I told you earlier, I see no baby’s breath. What I do see are white orchids, the palm of Christ blossoms, and lilies-of-the-valley being used as filler. Why?” Sheila asked.
“That’s what I thought. Wendy specifically requested that baby’s breath be used as the filler, which is quite common in boutonnieres, bouquets, and other flower arrangements. But, as you pointed out, this is not baby’s breath, but lily-of-the-valley.”
“Okay,” Sheila said, drawing the two-syllables out like the word was seventeen letters long. “So maybe Lily ran out of baby’s breath and substituted lily-of-the-valley. So what? These boutonnieres are just as lovely, either way. I doubt Wendy even noticed the difference.”
“That’s not my point. Don’t you remember? Raven included lily-of-the-valley in her list of poisonous flowers yesterday, along with the castor bean plant and several others.”
“Oh, good grief. That’s right. And when we Googled the flower last night, it said that the entire lily-of-the-valley plant can be deadly and contains lethal traces of convallatoxin, which intensifies the heart’s contractions.”
“Yes. It also said it can cause the heart to slow down, potentially leading to coma and/or death. Doesn’t that sound exactly like what happened to―?”
”―to Bubba!” We finished the sentence in unison. We looked at each other in shock.
“It’s beginning to look as if Lily used as many toxic flowers as they could in the boutonnieres,” I said. “Although I’m pretty sure the bouquets had baby’s breath in them.”
“They did.” Sheila studied me for a few moments as if concerned about my mental state. But then, I was too. “Don’t you remember that we confirmed that before we left the inn? That’s why I noticed they used a different filler for the groomsmen’s boutonnieres.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s right. Sorry, my mind feels a little foggy all of a sudden.”
“Yeah, mine too.” As she replied, I noticed Sheila’s worried expression had changed to one of fear. I reached over and patted her leg.
“Don’t worry. We’ll make it out of here somehow. Don’t lose faith.” To take her mind off our dire situation, I reverted back to the topic of the toxic flowers. “The boutonniere was pinned to the groomsmen’s lapels, practically right below their noses. What if Bubba accidentally inhaled too deeply and some of the toxin from both poisonous flowers got into his lungs?”
Before responding in a whisper, Sheila’s eyes darted from side to side, as if she were afraid the flowers in the room would launch the rumor mill into motion before her speculation could be investigated. “You know, it’s possible Lily made the substitution for nefarious reasons, rather than simply because she’d run out of baby’s breath. However, that scenario seems far-fetched now that I’ve said it out loud.”
“I don’t know why you’re whispering, but you’re exactly right. There’s another aspect of this to consider as well. When Wendy, Lariat, and I ordered flowers for the wedding, Lily ordered Raven to get back to work filling orders. What are the chances it was Raven who substituted the lily-of-the-valley for the baby’s breath? Could she have sprinkled a ground-up castor bean on Bubba’s boutonniere, as well? Raven knew both flowers to be poisonous, and she had a possible motive to kill the person who we now suspect broke her heart. I’m positive it was Raven who pinned the boutonnieres on the groomsmen prior to the ceremony. It sounds to me like it could have been a crime of passion, so to speak.”
“You’re right. In which case,” Sheila deduced, “it’s conceivable that Lily Franks had no idea about the substitution. Truthfully, either one of them could be responsible for Bubba’s illness.”
“Yes, but if Lily didn’t know about it, why would she lock us in this cooler? Could she somehow be in cahoots with Raven?” I asked, thinking out loud. “And if so, why?”
“I don’t know. I can’t imagine she’d put her own neck on the line for an employee who had only been working for her a couple of weeks. This whole thing makes no sense,” Sheila said. “I think once we get out of here, we need to go directly to the police station, despite what they think about you and your propensity for getting involved in police cases.”
“Yeah. As much as I hate to admit it, that’s exactly what we need to do. In the meantime, we should write our suspicions down on a piece of paper, which I’ll hide in my shoe, or something. You know, just in case, we don’t…”
“Make it out of here alive?” It was a question requiring no response, and when I failed to make one, Sheila added, “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“You must have a pen in that big bag of tricks,
don’t you?”
“Um, no. I think I took it out to make room for more Slim Jims.”
“Swell.” I didn’t have a pen either. I’d only put what I considered to be the bare necessities in my fanny pack before I’d left the house, which, unfortunately, had not included a writing instrument. The entire contents of my fanny pack included a tube of lip gloss, a tin box of breath mints, my driver’s license and a few credit cards, thirty-seven dollars in cash, and a cell phone that was as useless to me at that moment as a pet rock.
I removed the half-eaten Slim Jim I had just stuck in my mouth and glared at it as if it were the enemy. I then threw it and my empty water bottle across the tiny metal compartment in frustration. Sheila looked at me as if I’d pitched a live hand grenade into the corner of the room. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, but I drained the entire bottle without thinking. Now it’s gone right through me and I have to pee. I’m also beginning to feel really drowsy. I think I’ll take a nap.”
“I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open, too. But I think we should try to stay awake. Why don’t you pee in that empty bucket on the bottom shelf? I’ll probably have to do the same before long.”
“All right. But I think I’ll wait until I can’t hold it any longer. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a roll of toilet paper in that humongous purse of―”
“Oh, my!” Sheila suddenly exclaimed in alarm. The terror in her voice unnerved me. She jumped to her feet. “Do you feel like I do? Like you’re on the verge of losing consciousness?”
It quickly became clear we were in an even more perilous situation than we’d realized. Not only were we subject to a limited amount of remaining oxygen, the near-freezing temperature in the cooler, and a gradual increase of the CO2 level, we now seemed to have another problem we hadn’t considered.
“Kind of. Have you noticed an odd odor?” I asked.
“Yeah, now that you mention it. I smell something with a bitter aroma to it.”
Marriage and Mayhem (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 7) Page 21