Daisies for Innocence (5 page)

Garcia broke in. “I like that place. Best steak tips I’ve ever eaten. It’s your ex-husband’s restaurant now, right? You mentioned that Ms. Overland worked for him, too?”

“She sure did,” Lang answered for me. Something about the way he said it told me that he knew Harris had been dating “the victim.”

Garcia spared him a quick look, but her face remained impassive. “It must have been an amicable divorce.”

Lang snorted.

I chose to ignore that. “Josie works . . . worked Mondays and Tuesdays at Scents and Nonsense, as well as the occasional hour here and there when I needed extra help. She’d tended bar at the Roux Grill for a couple of years. She was good at it, too—cheerful, efficient, handled the occasional obnoxious customer with a deft hand. She also cleaned houses, and sometimes she’d sell one of her photographs. You know how hard it is to make a living in Poppyville year round.” Without warning, I felt tears threaten.

No. No crying. Not now.

I straightened my shoulders again. “How can I help you find who did that to her?”

Max Lang gave me a wry look. “I think we can handle it. Besides, you’re a suspect.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “A . . . ? But why would I . . . ?”

He smiled at me. It wasn’t a very nice smile. “She was killed on your property, and you don’t seem to have a very good explanation for that.”

“But she was on the boardwalk,” I said. “Which is technically part of my property, but still a public area.”

“Then why was her foot caught in your gate?” he asked with slightly raised eyebrows. I bit my lip.

Garcia looked up from her notebook. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm Ms. Overland?”

“I . . . I can’t think of anyone,” I stammered. “I didn’t really know her all that well, though.”

Lang’s gaze sharpened.

“We didn’t socialize,” I clarified.

“All right, then. We’ll be in touch if we have more questions,” Garcia said.

Lang started to say something, but when his partner touched his arm he stopped, looked down at her, and nodded. “Right. We’ll be in touch,” he repeated.

They turned to go. The muscles in my neck began to unclench, but then Detective Lang stopped. “Oh, and Ellie? Don’t leave Poppyville for the next few days.”

“Why would I leave?” I infused the words with all the innocence I felt and then some.

“Just don’t, okay?”

“Okay.” I hated how timid I sounded.

He strode away. Detective Garcia reached into the pocket of her blazer and retrieved a business card. She handed it to me. “Call me if you think of anything else.”

Glancing down at the number, I wondered—if Lang was the bad cop, was Garcia the good one? I was disconcerted to realize I couldn’t tell. Usually, I was pretty good at reading people.

I nodded. “I will.”

She leaned toward me and said in a low voice, “Well, I think they’re cute.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Your pajamas.” A smile flitted across her face, and she turned to follow Lang.

I
T
took hours for everyone to finish up. When they finally left, yellow police tape looped around a section of the boardwalk in front of the store. I had no idea what they were trying to preserve, since so many people had been all over the area. Back in the Enchanted Garden, the air smelled like lavender because someone had trampled the plant into the earth. Here and there, stems of cone flowers and Oriental poppies angled toward the ground, the victims of brusque professionals at work. Someone had stepped right in the middle of the sea glass pathway I’d just built and had knocked over an arrangement of miniature wicker chairs and tiny toadstools.

At least I’d had a chance to shower and dress in shorts and a T-shirt. Dash had stayed out of the way as I’d commanded, but the low whine in the back of his throat didn’t stop until I’d put him inside the house. I’d kept the shop
closed, ignoring the looky-loos peering in the front windows. I thought about lost business for a split second before reminding myself to keep some darn perspective. A bit less revenue was nothing compared to murder.

I’d tried to call Astrid, but she was working a full shift at the veterinarian’s office. Surgeries were often scheduled on Tuesdays, so no matter how upset—and curious—she was, she might not be able to get back to me for a while. Then I’d spent an hour tidying the damage to the garden, which served as a kind of therapy. Now the afternoon loomed ahead of me. However, there were still all those errands I’d neglected the previous afternoon. I went into the office to get my keys, wallet, and the bank bag, then retrieved Dash from the house and took him out to the Wrangler.

As I sat in the drive-through at the bank, I pondered the questions the detectives had asked me.
Who could have wanted to hurt Josie?
She was sweet and had seemed open and happy. Could she have stumbled into something illegal without realizing it? Was there another side to Josie I didn’t know about? And did Max Lang really think I was a murder suspect? My stomach twisted as I remembered the look on his face when he’d said it.

I told myself to calm down. The police hadn’t even had a chance to investigate. Maybe Lang was just goading me. Had to be, because the very idea of me as a murderer was ridiculous.

The plastic tube containing my deposit receipt popped into view, and the bank teller wished me a nice day over the speaker. Reaching through my window to retrieve it,
I shook my head at myself. And the warning not to leave town? That was probably just a routine thing they told everyone who found a body.

Right?

Dash happily munched on one of his favorite cookies fresh out of the bag after we left Doggone Gourmet, and I headed over to Terra Green Nursery.

Guiding the Wrangler around to the back, I parked next to the piles of bagged compost. I had a compost bin, of course, but the current batch was still percolating into rich, dark nourishment. I was considering my options when a door slammed behind me, and I turned to see Thea standing by her mint green step-side pickup. As I watched, she reached into the back of the pickup and lifted out a plastic pot containing a sad-looking hydrangea.

“Hey, Ellie!” she called. “What can I do you for?”

“Just need a bag of mushroom compost for the new herb bed,” I said.

“Good choice. And I have something else for you.” She hoisted the pot in her hand.

“That poor plant?” I asked as she approached.

She looked down at the withering leaves. “If you save it, you can have it—and heaven knows you can save pretty much anything. This little guy needs a good dose of water and a bit of acid-based fertilizer to bring it around.”

“Coffee grounds,” I said. “My grandmother always told me to use them if you wanted your hydrangeas to have blue blooms.”

“She was right.” She squinted skyward, her irises
reflecting the color above. “Of course it’s the aluminum in the soil that makes them blue, but acid helps the plant to absorb it.” She looked back down at me. “I think I like the blue flowers better than pink. You?”

“I guess I do, now that you mention it.”

“Ellie? You sound kind of funny.” She ducked her head closer, probing me with her gaze. “Are you okay?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What to say? Was there a protocol for informing someone that you found one of your employees, who also happened to be your ex’s girlfriend, murdered on your doorstep?

Probably not something Miss Manners covered.

Her expression sharpened. “What happened?”

I opened my mouth to respond, words of explanation ready if not exactly organized. But to my horror, all that came out was a soft whimper.

“Holy cow, Ellie!” She bent and put the hydrangea down on the ground so she could give me a hug.

Well, that sent me right over the edge. A sob erupted from my throat, and tears squeezed out of my eyes.

Thea patted me on the back. “There, there.”

“Now what’s all this?” came a deep voice from behind me.

Startled out of crying, I whirled around to find a man standing there.

I recognized him instantly. He’d aged a bit since I’d seen him last—what? Twelve years ago? But if anything, he’d gotten better looking. The light blue chambray shirt couldn’t hide the wide shoulders or the way his torso tapered down to his hips. He wore jeans and scuffed
brown work boots. Sun-kissed strands streaked his chestnut hair, and lashes a model would kill for framed eyes the same clear blue as his sister’s.

Ritter Nelson. Three years older than me, which in high school had been kind of a big deal. It sure hadn’t stopped me from crushing on my friend Thea’s big brother, though.

All this registered in the split second it took my face to turn bright red. I reached up and wiped my eyes, stammering out, “Ritter . . . hi . . . I . . . I . . .” I took a deep breath and sniffed. “Hi.”

“Well, hi, yourself, Elliana.” He stepped around me to stand by Thea, who absently patted him on the arm the same way she’d patted my back. “It’s nice to see you again. But tears? That’s no good.”

“Nice to see you again, too,” I said, an octave too high. Mortified, I stared at him, afraid to say another word.

“Ellie!” Thea said. “Are you going to tell us what’s the matter? Or—” She looked at her brother then back at me. “Is it, you know,
girl
stuff?”

By then I was pretty sure every drop of blood in my body had migrated to my overheated, tearstained face. I shook my head vigorously. “No. No, not at all. Of course not.”

Get a grip, Ellie!

“It’s Josie,” I blurted.

Took a deep breath and tried again. “She’s been murdered. I found her this morning.”

Their lips parted in surprise.
“Murdered?”
Thea repeated in a quiet, stunned tone.

I nodded. “Stabbed.”

“You’re
kidding
. That’s just
awful
. When did it happen? Who did it? Why didn’t you call me?” She sounded truly outraged.

“It just happened this morning. Or at least that’s when I found her,” I said.

“Who’s Josie?” Ritter asked.

“Of course,” I said. “You wouldn’t know.”

“She’s a bartender at the Roux Grill,” Thea said. “And she works part-time for Ellie at Scents and Nonsense.”

“Scents and—” he said.

His sister cut him off. “Never mind that right now.” Then to me. “You found her? Good Lord. No wonder you’re upset, darlin’.”

Ritter moved away from his sister and reached in through the window of the Wrangler to stroke Dash’s ears with his fingertips. My corgi nosed his hand, begging for more.

I took a deep breath. “I’m okay. Sorry about the—” I waved my hand as if trying to dispel what happened. “You, know. Crying.”

“Jeez, Elliana. I’d cry, too,” Ritter said.

I highly doubted that, but it made me feel kind of fuzzy that he’d said it.

“So tell us what happened,” Thea urged, leading me over to a bench snugged into the shade of the barn-red retail shop. Ritter ambled over to lean against the wall.

I filled them both in on the details, leaving out the bit where I was wearing my little-girl pajamas the whole time and that Lang had said I was a suspect.

“Good Lord,” Thea said again when I was done. Then,
“I wonder who could have done such a thing here in Poppyville?”

I looked down at the ground, still highly aware of Ritter standing so close. “I know. We have such a tame little town.”

Ritter said, “There’s no such thing, I’ve found. Spent the last six months working out of three different hardly there towns in the wilds of Alaska, and by the time I left every one of them, it was clear each had something going on under the surface.”

“Oh, hush, you,” Thea said. “This isn’t some rough-and-ready place full of mountain men and wolves. It’s the same Poppyville we moved to in elementary school.”

A phone trilled on the other side of the wall. Thea started to get up.

Ritter waved her back. “I’ll get it. Might as well start in right away.” As he walked toward the open Dutch door, he called over his shoulder. “See you later, Elliana.”

As soon as he’d gone, I leaned over and hissed, “When did he get back into town?”

She looked surprised. “Yesterday. You know his team has been studying environmental threats to the Alaskan tundra? Well, he’s between grants right now and came back to hang out with his little sis—and put his degree to work in a real business for a while.” Botany ran in the Nelson family.

“Why didn’t you tell us that at the Greenstockings meeting?”

“Because I didn’t think it was a big . . . oh. Wait.” She grinned. “I forgot you have a thing for Ritter.”

“I do not!” Never mind the way my stomach had done
a somersault when I’d turned around to find him standing
right there
.

Her grin got bigger. “Uh-huh. So you want me to set you guys up?”

“Of course not!”

Maybe.
The thought made my toes tingle at the same time it sent fear arrowing through my solar plexus.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and saw Astrid had called twice, but I’d managed to miss her both times. Now she’d resorted to a text.

The police came to Dr. Ericsson’s office—Josie was murdered!? Oh, honey—please call me. Am worried about you.

I grimaced. “I think I’d better get going. Astrid happened into the whole scene this morning, but the police made her leave. Now she’s off work.”

Thea stood. “Let me get you that hydrangea. If you don’t mind?”

“No, I’m happy to do what I can,” I said.

She retrieved it, and I loaded it into the back of the Wrangler.

“You take care of yourself, Ellie,” she said and I climbed into the passenger seat. “And call if you need to talk.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Behind her, I saw Ritter emerge from the gift store. He sketched a vague wave in my direction before turning away and heading for the greenhouse.

Thea glanced over her shoulder, and I forced myself
to look away from his retreating figure—and those well-fitting jeans.

Her lips twitched, and she said, “He’s probably not going to be in town all that long, you know. The new grant money should come through in a few weeks.”

I smiled and waved my hand, all devil-may-care. “It’s nice that you get to see him for that long, then. I’d better take off.” I started the vehicle and put it in gear.

As I turned out of Terra Green, I saw Thea in my rearview mirror, standing with her hands on her hips and watching me go. That was when I realized that I’d completely forgotten to buy the compost I’d come for in the first place.

•   •   •

I
PULLED
over and called Astrid, and we agreed to meet at Scents & Nonsense. On the way back, I mulled over running into Ritter again after so many years. It was crazy how seeing him had made me feel. After all, I’d been sixteen when he’d left for college, though he’d come back to Poppyville for holidays during the years he’d worked through a four-year botany degree and then moved on to getting his master’s in environmental science. Every time he’d come back to town, he’d piqued my interest, but by then I’d had my own very full life and had left high school infatuations behind.

So what was different now? Why couldn’t I get the image of his sidelong glance or the sound of his voice out of my mind? How had I forgotten that he’d always called me Elliana, instead of Ellie like everyone else?

I remembered how he’d smelled of wool and cedar,
and nearly ran a stop sign. Dash woofed his disapproval as the Wrangler lurched to a standstill.

Stop it. Think about something else.

Which, of course, led me back to my horrible discovery that morning, which, honestly, I’d been trying to avoid thinking about. Accelerating again, I considered why—and how—Josie could have been killed.

She’d worked at the Roux Grill thirty hours or so a week, mostly bartending but also waiting tables or even busing when things got busy. Harris and I had often argued over whether we should hire full-time or part-time staff, but he was unwilling to pay benefits. Hiring part-time help, especially during high tourist season, was a common practice in places like Poppyville, where the cost of goods was high and employee turnover higher. Some restaurants brought in students from other countries to work the busy times in the summer, paying them a pittance for the privilege of spending time in the United States and working their tails off. At least Harris had agreed that we should hire locals.