by ACF Bookens
“It is nice to be thought of, of course.” The flatness of her voice made me think it was anything but nice. “Mostly, I miss her, you know?”
“I can imagine.” I stepped around her gently and let her follow me into the store. “Did you need something from me?”
She looked puzzled.
“You were in the shop. I didn’t know if you were buying books or needed me in particular.” I was pretty eager to get away from this thief, but I figured this might be my only chance to get some information.
“Oh, right. Right. Yes, I came to let you know that the memorial service will be on Saturday. We’re doing it at ten a.m. at the Baptist church up the road.”
“Thank you for letting me know. Is it for family only or might a few of us who knew Wilma also come?”
“Please come. Wilma would have loved to have you there.”
I kept my face blank, but the idea of Wilma Painter wanting anyone in her vicinity was laughable. I wondered if Renee really believed that or if she was just putting up a front to act the grieving sister.
“I’ll be there, then. Thank you for letting me know.”
Renee nodded once and then turned and walked back out the door.
There was no way I could get all this into a text, so I checked in with Marcus and then headed out to meet Tuck, who had suggested tacos at Lu’s truck since it was nearly lunch time. I never passed up a chance to have one of Lu’s tacos.
When I arrived, Lu had propped open the back door of the truck, and Tuck was sitting there with a plate on his lap and one beside him. “Two carnitas, right?” he said as he lifted the plate from the metal step.
“You know me too well, Lu,” I said into the truck’s interior. All I heard was a laugh in return.
“You will not believe what we found out,” I said before promptly taking a huge bite of taco. The sheriff waited patiently while I chewed and I got more and more embarrassed at my own rudeness. Then I filled him in on what Ariel and I found out about Cynthia and Renee Forsham. Then I told him about Renee’s visit to the lawyer and the memorial service.
He quietly ate his tacos and listened, but he didn’t look surprised at all.
“You knew all this?”
“I suspected. Not the part about Renee. That’s new. But Cynthia, I thought it was probably her.”
“Yeah, Ariel, too. Poor thing. They are friends.” I shook my head.
“Always hard when people disappoint you.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin from his knee. “Still, better to know now before you find yourself in the midst of something you don’t want to be a part of.”
“True. Still, why do you think Cynthia did it?”
“Greed probably. That’s usually the reason for theft,” Tuck said matter-of-factly.
“And Renee? The same reason?”
“Probably. I’ll have to check with that lawyer about the estate. That should be easy, a routine part of the investigation.”
I took another bite of my taco and leaned back against the frame of the food truck’s door. “Surely Renee wouldn’t have stolen if she’d thought she was going to come into sizable money when her sister died.”
“Well, she didn’t know her sister would die anytime soon.” Tuck raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t sound like she came into sizable money, though.”
“Yeah, she was clearly displeased.” I took another bite of taco and watched people walk by on the street for a while. “Any closer to arresting anyone?”
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug and a grin.
I groaned and smiled. “Thanks for the tacos, you information miser.” I shoved the last half of my second one in my mouth as I stood up.
Tuck laughed. “Thanks for the info, Harvey.” He stepped up into the truck and kissed Lu on the cheek before climbing down and joining me as we walked back toward Main Street, Mayhem tugging me all the way.
“You’ll keep me posted?” I asked hopefully.
“Anything you need to know, my dear, you’ll know,” the sheriff said with a laugh as he headed toward the station.
* * *
One of the things that I liked best about Marcus was that he was always paying attention but didn’t feel the need to know everything, unlike me. When I came back in the shop, he waved from where he was helping a customer in the history section, but after he rang up the customer’s copy of Master of the Mountain, he just asked how I was. No prying. No nudging for more information when clearly there was some to give.
I wished I could be more like him. For a minute. Then I started to ponder how I could figure out what Renee Forsham’s involvement was in all this.
I didn’t get far, though, because we had a very full day of flower deliveries to contend with, and it was all hands on deck for attaching notes. Mom and Dad, Henri and Bear, Ariel, Daniel, Cate and Lucas, Mart, Elle, Rocky, and even Woody with his sausage-size fingers spread out over the café while Marcus staffed the store. I stood at the café counter and directed flower and note dispersal, tucking my own flowers from Max under the counter so that I could avoid the inevitable teasing. The man was ridiculous, and I didn’t feel like dealing with him or my friends and their snide commentary.
Our chatter was minimal since we were already behind schedule on getting these out the door. We simply hadn’t anticipated how many flowers would get ordered on this last day, and we were rushing to get everything delivered on time.
The practice we’d come to was to group flowers in a single bucket if they were going to a similar location – this end of Main Street versus that end, the school, the hospital, etc. Today, I noticed that a lot of flowers were accumulating in one bucket, and Elle quickly got a second for that location. As we attached notes, those buckets became full and Elle brought over a third. Curious as always, I stopped my work and took a look at the scrap of paper with the label – North Main Street. So here, near the store.
I then looked at the list of notes I had to attach and saw that most of mine were going to Cynthia at the bank. Sheriff Mason might believe in coincidences, but this seemed too much. The same was true for most of the flowers – some four dozen – in the buckets Elle had put aside. When we were done addressing, I counted. Cynthia had five dozen flowers coming to her.
We hadn’t recorded names of the people sending the flowers or notes, but from the tenor of the messages, it was clear this person was quite the admirer. “I can’t wait to see you tonight.” “Remember that afternoon in the park? Your lips.” We had required that all messages be PG-rated, or I had a feeling this flower giver might have been more amorous in their affections.
I decided to deliver Cynthia’s flowers myself, play off my visit to Ariel a bit. I didn’t think anyone could have known what we were doing, but then, I was not always the best actress, as we’d discovered.
I couldn’t manage any more deliveries with sixty flowers in my arms, so Daniel came along with the rest of the stems for this part of town. We walked quickly to the bank, and as I came through the door with the massive armload of flowers, the employees gasped with delight. The mood cooled considerably, though, as I walked to Cynthia’s window and handed her all the flowers.
Her eyes got wide, and she said, “All of these are for me?”
I nodded. “You seem to have quite the admirer.” I winked and smiled, even though I was not feeling very charitable toward her at this moment. You cross my friends, you cross me, and Cynthia had definitely crossed Cate.
She read a few of the notes, and the blush ran up her cheeks.
“Sounds like the good officer has come around?”
Her eyes flew to my face, and she looked shocked. “Why would you say that?”
Now, it was my turn to be puzzled. “Because just a few days ago you were quite upset about—” I stopped talking because Cynthia looked like she was going to pass out. I took a hold of her arm, straining to reach over the high counter between us. “Are you okay?”
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe she would do this.” Cynthia shoo
k her head. “I can’t believe it.”
I resisted asking more questions and, instead, gestured to Daniel for help. He had been waiting by the door but must have been watching because he was already on his way with the bank manager.
“Cynthia here has had a shock,” I said to the manager. “Would it be alright if we took her outside for some fresh air?”
The young woman nodded, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, and as we helped Cynthia to the front door, I saw another teller gather her flowers and head toward the back of the bank. I hoped she was going to put them in water.
Outside, we steered Cynthia to a bench and suggested she put her head between her knees, which she did without a word.
A few minutes later, the color came back to her face, and she sat up with a deep sigh. “Thank you. I was just so shocked.” She winced out a smile. “Just so many flowers.”
I patted her back. “Of course, you know who they were from?” I tried to sound playful.
Some of the color left her face again. “From Chad, of course.”
I pursed my lips. “Oh, I thought you said ‘she’ in there.”
Cynthia gave a rough laugh. “You must have misheard me. They have to be from Chad. Who else could they be from?”
That was exactly the question I was asking, but I decided now was not the time to push the point. “You okay?”
“I am. Thanks.” She stood up and squared her shoulders. “Thanks for bringing the flowers.” She turned and went back inside.
Daniel picked up his bucket, and I untied Taco and Mayhem from the tree outside, and we continued up the street to deliver our remaining few flowers.
Before we stepped into the yarn shop at the end of the block, Daniel gave me a sideways grin and said, “She, huh?”
“Indeed.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “And this mystery is totally mine to solve.”
10
As soon as we got back to the shop, I pulled out the list of flower purchases that Mom had collected from the various merchants the previous day. Right there, clear as anything, was the purchase of five dozen stems for three hundred dollars. Paid for in cash at Chez Cuisine.
Daniel read over my shoulder and started to snicker as soon as he saw that the flowers had been bought at Max’s restaurant. “Someone is going to be so excited to see you, Ms. Mystery Solver.”
“You could at least feign jealousy,” I said with a pout.
Daniel forced his grin into a scowl. “Do I have reason to be jealous?”
I smacked him on the arm and told him we were eating out that night. “If I have to bear up under that man’s affection, you’re going with me.”
“Oh, I think I have plans—”
“Daniel Galena, you are coming to dinner with me tonight or else.”
That brought out a big smile on his face, and he bent to kiss my cheek. “I’ll be here at seven, and I’m leaving Taco to watch after my interests.”
I smiled and looked over at the two dogs sound asleep next to the register. “You probably need a better partner for that work. I don’t think that guy is watching anything.”
* * *
As the afternoon passed, I helped a few customers and drank a couple of cups of decaf, even though I really wanted the fully leaded stuff. I felt like I might need it to get through dinner.
About four, Mom and Dad came back in, and I could tell they were bursting with news. They were practically bouncing as they approached the register.
“Don’t tell me. You got another dog?” I said with a wink at Sidecar.
“Even better,” Mom said at the same moment that Dad said, “Don’t give your mother any ideas.”
Mom glared at him and then turned back to me. “Do you want to know or do you just want to keep making wisecracks?”
“Well, if you’re going to get mean about it—”
“Ariel’s apartment is ready. We can sign the lease, and she can move in tomorrow, if she wants to.”
I did a little awkward happy dance behind the register. “That is great news. I’m texting her right now.”
Mom grinned. “Copy me in. I want to see what she says.”
“Ariel, you up for a move tomorrow?”
Her almost instantaneous reply, “Will I sound rude if I say, YAAAASSSS!”
I sent her a bunch of smiling emojis and told her we’d get her moved tomorrow afternoon. I hoped our friends would be willing to help.
She replied with, “And then we’ll have a pizza party at my new place.”
“Great plan.”
Mom chimed in then. “I’m bringing salad.” Mom still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of tone in texts yet.
“Salad is great. Mama B,” Ariel responded, and I thought my mother might just melt into a puddle of delight right there. Mama B.
I sent my standard three heart reply and put my phone down. “Mom, in addition to salad, can you arrange for the pizzas and maybe see if you can round up folks to help with the move? I have dinner plans tonight that I can’t miss—“
“Consider it done. Your dad and I have already located some used furniture for her – a couch, a couple of chairs, a bed frame, and I expect everyone else will have things to contribute,” Mom said without letting me finish. “You worry about figuring out the story of the flowers. I’ll furnish the apartment and throw a housewarming party.”
“How did you know about . . . never mind. Just remember, this is a small apartment, and a casual party. No ice sculptures.”
Mom snapped her fingers. “Darn, I was hoping for an ice swan.” She winked as she headed out the door with my dad close behind her. He gave me a wave as the bell over the door dinged.
I hadn’t been sure I was going to like having my parents live this close, but it was turning out to be a very comforting, not to mention helpful situation. I think they were liking it, too. I had gotten my thrill of helpfulness straight from my mom, so she was in her element at the moment.
Marcus’s shift ended at four, but he always stayed over for a bit, mostly in the café. I smiled to myself when I saw him leaning on the counter talking to Rocky. They looked so comfortable with each other, and it made my ever-romantic heart happy.
As he left, he said, “Have fun at dinner,” and I swear he made kissing sounds as the door closed behind him. Clearly, everyone thought Max’s crush was quite the joke. I didn’t take it seriously, but it sure was embarrassing, not to mention just the slightest bit discomforting. I mean, he knew Daniel and I were together, but that didn’t slow him down at all. Dinner was going to be all kinds of awkward.
* * *
Still, when Daniel showed up at seven with a collared shirt and smelling of his unique blend of aftershave and motor oil, I couldn’t help but be a little excited about our date, even if it involved endless flirtation from a man I had no interest in and endless teasing about said flirtation from the man I loved.
I closed up the shop and found myself grateful that I’d at least taken the time to put some pomade in my hair that morning so that my curls looked intentional instead of their usual blender-inspired style. We walked the half-block to the restaurant, and I made a point of enjoying those few moments in the mild air of spring.
The evening was so lovely that we hoped to dine at the outdoor tables and keep Mayhem and Taco with us, and, fortunately, there was one table for two left on the sidewalk when we arrived. I needed to talk with Max, but I was optimistic that this seating arrangement would postpone my interaction with him until just before we left.
My optimism was not warranted, and I made a note to give the hostess who must have tipped Max off the evil eye next time I saw her. I expected she’d been instructed to tell him any time I came by, but she could have at least let me get one glass of wine down before letting him know. Instead, he came bustling out with a bottle of red wine, already opened, and proceeded to tell us – well, me, really – all about its vintage before pouring a taste into my glass.
I stared at him and then at the wine and then back at him
. “I don’t drink red wine. Sulfites. They give me migraines.”
The look on his face was one of horror, and at first, I thought it was because he realized his faux pas in assuming, well, assuming about a billion things about me and Daniel. But when he scoffed and said, “Nonsense. You have just not had the right red wine. The stuff in the boxes does not even count as wine,” I realized that my mistake was thinking that Max could ever admit he was imperfect.
“I assure you, Max. I have had very good red wine in my day, and I simply can’t drink it. The pain is not worth it, even for the best of the best.”
“I love red wine, though, if you want to leave the bottle,” Daniel said, trying to salvage the bottle of wine, if not the moment.
Max acted as if he had not even heard Daniel speak and stormed off, bottle in hand, shouting to the hostess about finding a bottle of chardonnay for our table. I love chardonnay, so I didn’t protest.
Our dinner was delicious as it always was at Chez Cuisine. I had the mushroom risotto for about the fifteenth time, and Daniel got fish. We chatted about work and about the flower sale. Daniel assured me that he’d take the next afternoon off to help Ariel move, and I told him about Mom’s plan for a housewarming party.
“Do I need to rent a tux?” he asked with a smirk.
“I’ll check.” I said just as Max returned, this time with a single plate holding what looked to be a tower of chocolate.
“You will not have red wine, so you cannot enjoy the full depth of flavor in the chocolate here, but still, you deserve something delicious and decadent.” He set the plate before me and stood waiting by the table.
I looked from him to the cake and then over to Daniel before grabbing a spoonful of the chocolate and passing the cake to Daniel so he could get his share. I loved this man for many reasons, but his quick wit was one of the main ones. “Max, it is incredibly kind of you to get us this romantic dessert to share. Thank you.”
I felt fairly certain Max’s blood pressure had just skyrocketed, but I needed him not to have a heart attack right there. So I put on my most sweet voice and said, “Really, Max. Thank you. I appreciate the cake. It’s delicious.”