Daisies for Innocence (19 page)

He shrugged. “No reason to get my own car. I might be leaving in another month, and then what would I do with a car?”

Lead settled into my stomach.

He turned to face me. “You know I’m here because I’m waiting for a grant to come through for my work, right?”

I nodded. Thea had warned me. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go.”

I
KNEW
it was a long shot, hoping for useful information about Josie from the fashion model we were going to see. Other than Missy’s accusation that Josie had stolen her jewelry—something I didn’t believe for a minute—no one Josie had cleaned for had provided any real helpful information. I crossed my fingers that Detective Garcia would do what she could in an official capacity, but my Chatty Cathy attempts to elicit information sure hadn’t garnered much.

Still, I was happy to take a drive on a sunny afternoon, and I’d always been curious about what the Tillman-Thelane gardens looked like. So I sat back and tried to enjoy myself in spite of my worries. Ritter didn’t know where the estate was, so I directed him to the west side of town and into the only neighborhood Poppyville could call fancy. The other houses were nothing compared to
our destination, though—a rambling seven-acre spread behind a high stone wall that I’d never been on the other side of. At least not since the couple had moved to town and built their big house. When I was a child, that area had been an open space popular with birders and butterfly hunters.

Ritter guided the truck around curves with smooth ease, blue eyes narrowed against the wind coming in the window and sun-streaked hair blowing around his face. He didn’t seem to mind, indeed had a small smile for the entire trip. With all the air rushing though the cab, we didn’t talk much.

He was right; by the time we arrived, my hair was completely dry. I checked in the mirror, and was not impressed with my tangled tresses, but at least they were clean.

Ritter pushed a button and looked into the camera set outside the wall. Moments later, the big iron gate was rolling to the side, and we drove through. I unfastened my seat belt and sat forward, taking in every detail as we wound up the narrow drive to the ginormous house on the hill. Maples lined the road on both sides, reaching up behind precise boxwood hedges.

“Those need a lot of water,” I said. “In fact, all this greenery does.”

“They can afford it.”

“Yeah—but can the rest of us?” I asked.

“Good point.”

The drought that affected much of the state hadn’t hit Poppyville as hard. My garden was close to Raven Creek, and the underground springs that supplied the town were
still in good shape. We knew we were lucky. Beyond lucky, actually. So many people were suffering from a lack of water.

And places like this weren’t helping any.

We reached the front of the house, which looked like something out of
Downton Abbey
. Not as large, of course, but ornate and very, very formal. I expected a butler to come out, or better yet a footman, but instead, Sophia Thelane herself came running out of the house as Ritter parked the car.

“Oh, you’re here!” she said unnecessarily. “Thea called and said she was sending you two.” She did a double-take when she saw Ritter. “Well, hello. I’m Sophia.”

“Ritter Nelson,” he said, sticking his hand out. “I’ve got some pictures for you to look at, and I’d like to see where you want the wall built. This is Elliana Allbright. She’s assisting me today.”

“Hi, Ella.” Her eyes flicked to me for a split second before returning to Ritter. “Come on back, and I’ll show you what I have in mind.”

I tried not to feel slighted—or like an ugly duckling. Sophia was indeed beautiful, but without artifice. She wore not a single bit of makeup, her expensively streaked hair was arranged in a messy pile on her head, and she had on a light off-the-shoulder sweater and cutoff jeans with holes in them. Yet everything about her exuded a sort of natural sex appeal. It was as if something that ran through her veins made her move like a cat and throw sparks when she laughed. She wasn’t
trying
, though.

Wow. What I wouldn’t give for a little of that.

She led us around the outside of the house to another
gate, which she opened to the pool area. I’d been noting the landscape and admiring Thea’s work. At the same time, it was unsettling.

For one thing, there were a
lot
of chemicals in use on this piece of land. Pesticides and herbicides and artificial fertilizers. I could smell their subtle sickening sweetness. And the plants were, for want of a better way of putting it, overtended. There were no spent blooms. Not even fading ones. No weeds. Nothing too large or too small for its delineated space. The roses were beautiful, but climbed their trellis in exacting rows.
Rows.
Someone took care of this garden full time. They took such good care of it they cramped its style.

It felt as if the garden was full of beautiful birds that had had their wings clipped to keep them tame. I thought of the pieces of driftwood, the rocks, and other natural items Josie had collected on the shelves of her apartment, and wondered how she’d felt on this fancy estate.

We reached the pool, and I adjusted my assumption about a gardener. There were actually three men working along the edges, not just one. Sophia approached and gave a few instructions. One of the men asked a question, and she shrugged and laughed. She wasn’t the one who was the control freak. Maybe it was her husband.

“Come over here,” she called to Ritter. I followed along like a puppy.

We wended our way over the stamped concrete, past an elaborate fountain—more water waste—and around to an adorable grotto set into a tall hedge. The inside was hidden from the pool and most of the surrounding area. It felt private and wilder than anything I’d seen since
coming inside the gate, with ivy winding up the bay laurels and a lopsided table and mismatched chairs teetering on the mossy stones.

“I love this,” I exclaimed.

Sophia laughed. “Isn’t it wonderful? My husband loathes it, of course. He likes things just so. I don’t care, though. Rance is hardly here, anyway. He’s been working in Scotland for the last four months. Anyway, this little space is mine, all mine, and it’s where I want Thea to build my mosaic wall.”

“Here?” I asked, pointing to the open spot beside the hedge.

“Exactly. And I want it to curve around here.” She walked along the line she had in mind.

“Got it,” Ritter said. “Let me show you some pictures.”

They sat at the rickety table and bent their heads over Ritter’s phone. He began flipping through the pictures he’d taken of my mosaic wall, and Sophia oohed and aahed at each one.

Feeling a little awkward just standing there, I went out to the pool to take a look around. Slowly, I strolled the perimeter, smiling at the gardeners, and trying not to breathe the strong scent of chlorine that had joined the other chemical smells.

As I rounded the far end, I saw Ritter and Sophia in the grotto. They weren’t looking at his phone anymore. Sophia leaned in close and whispered something in his ear. He stepped back, looking startled. With a little shake of his head, he said something to the model. They rose and came out to meet me.

“Ella, Ritter tells me these pictures are of a wall in your garden.”

I nodded, feeling more awkward than ever.

“Elliana,” Ritter corrected.

“Right,” she said. “And your garden is open to the public? He says it’s really something.”

“It’s behind Scents and Nonsense, the shop at the end of Corona Street. It’s open whenever the shop is open,” I said, trying to smile. “I’m sure Josie Overland told you about it. She worked there. Here, too, from what I understand.”

Sophia closed her eyes and shook her head. “Josie. That poor girl. I cannot believe what happened.” She sounded sincere. “But I’m afraid she didn’t talk to me about your adorable gardens and store. She only came in when my regular housekeeper was off, but only for the last six months or so.” Her hand went to her throat. “Have they caught whoever did it yet?”

“I’m afraid not,” I said.

Ritter promised to pass on the notes he’d taken to Thea, who would contact Sophia soon. The model walked us back to the truck and, watching her move, I wondered about her effect on Ritter. He couldn’t possibly be immune to her charms.

I pushed the thought out of my head and got in the truck. Sophia’s good-bye dripped with disappointment, and as she turned away from Ritter, her fingertips trailed slowly down his arm.

Just like Cynthia’s had, in the Roux Grill.
Was that a thing? Maybe I’d have to try it sometime.

Nah.

He watched her walk away with a bemused expression, then raised his eyebrows. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

I nodded. “I’ll say.”

He got in the truck. “Did you enjoy the show?” Sarcasm laced the words.

My eyebrow rose. “What show?”

The truck started with a rumble that quieted to a purr. “The famous fashion model licking my ear.”

“I . . . she
licked
it?”

He laughed, reddening. “She sure did.” He put the truck into gear. We drove back along the winding driveway. “She suggested that I might want to come visit her, um, grotto, at a later date, too.”

“She’s married!”

“Hmm. I don’t think that really matters to Sophia. At least not when her husband is gone, and, as you heard, he’s been away for a long time. If you think I’d be the first affair she’s had, you’d be one hundred percent wrong, Elliana. I bet your friend Josie knew that, too. However, I doubt it got her killed, because I bet everyone who works there knows. As you can see, Sophia isn’t all that subtle with her advances.”

I stared at him. “When are you going back?”

His response was a surprised look. “I’m not!”

“Good Lord. You’re going to pass that up?”

“Why . . . you actually . . . Listen here—just because she doesn’t care that she’s married doesn’t mean I don’t care. And besides, I’m interested in someone else.”

“Oh,” I said quietly. It had to be Cynthia.

Ritter eyes narrowed, and he spared a glance away
from the road. “Thea said you called last night, trying to get ahold of me.”

I nodded.

“Because . . . ?”

I was saved from having to respond by the approach of another car.

A police car, actually, with the Poppyville town logo on the side. Detective Max Lang was driving, and Detective Garcia sat beside him.

Though the two vehicles could have scooted by each other, Lang swerved to block the drive. He threw his car into park and got out, glowering at us both.

“What in blazes are you doing here, Allbright?”

Garcia exited from the other side of the car.

“She’s helping me out with a job for my sister,” Ritter said.

“Who the heck is your sister?”

“This is Ritter Nelson,” I said, getting out of the truck. “Thea Nelson’s brother. Don’t you recognize her truck?”

“Who told you to exit your vehicle?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Max!” I said. “What is your problem?”

He glared at me, then barked at Ritter. “License and registration, mister.”

Looking an apology at Ritter, I sidled around to where Garcia stood by one of the über tidy boxwoods.

“You learn anything from Ms. Thelane?” she asked in a low voice.

A little surprised, I said, “Nothing that seems
helpful. She’s probably had a few affairs with her husband gone, but it doesn’t seem to be that much of a secret.”

“Don’t bother with the ice-skater,” Garcia muttered. “I checked her alibi. Her sister was visiting. They went to Fresno that night.”

“Jeez. Doesn’t anyone stick around Poppyville anymore? Does Lang know?”

“He does now. Not that he ever suspected her, you know.”

“Right. He only suspects me.”

“I have a call in to the Silver Wells police about Bob Farsen.” She spoke quickly, seeing that her partner was almost finished harassing Ritter. “They haven’t gotten back to me yet.”

“Thanks,” I murmured and moved away from her.

“You’d better not be interfering with official police business, Ellie,” Lang warned as we all got back in our vehicles.

I schooled my expression to hide my anger until after Ritter and I were out on the road back to downtown Poppyville. Then I banged my fist on the dashboard.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “Let the wind blow all thoughts of that jerk right out of your mind.”

It was good advice. By the time we got back to Scents & Nonsense, Lang felt like a distant memory.

•   •   •

B
EFORE
Maggie left for the evening, I asked her if she’d heard anything about Sophia Thelane having an affair.

“Oh, Lordy, yes. You didn’t know?”

“Had no idea. Of course, people don’t talk here like they do in the Roux Grill—especially after a few drinks.”

“Well, she goes through men like water. But that actor husband of hers isn’t any better, from what I hear.”

“Did Josie tell you about them?” I asked. “She covered for their housekeeper on her day off.”

“No.” Maggie went into the office and retrieved her purse. When she came back out, she said, “See, Josie didn’t talk about the people she cleaned for. Once said, ‘What happens in a client’s home, stays in a client’s home.’ Said ‘Housefairies don’t tattle.’”

I gave a little laugh. “I like that she called herself a housefairy.”

Maggie took off, and I checked the day’s receipts. They were decent, which I found encouraging. Maybe business was getting back to normal, even if nothing else was.