“Quincy, I’m alright here for the rest of the afternoon if you want to take off. That is after you tell me about your day.”
I recounted the exercises, the drenching, the hit-and-run witnesses and Cindy leaving. I left out the part about Alex leaving. It was too embarrassing to share how gullible I’d been. “Tell you what,” I said, “I’ll take you up on your offer after I finish entering that stack of invoices into the computer.”
I sat at the desk then noticed the little pocket notebook I had used to scribble some notes about Derrick, and a to-do list I had compiled of people I could talk to about Derrick’s business with the mortuary. I had written the name of Irwin Shaw and next to it was a question mark with the word pamphlet written to next to it. Just what was the connection between Derrick and Irwin Shaw and the switch grass pamphlet? It wouldn’t hurt for me to pay the Shaws a visit, since Allie would be covering the shop, and I had promised to help them finish setting up their computer system.
The door chimes sounded and I looked out from behind the desk to see K.C. She sported a warm auburn color, and lots of volume in her curly do. She fluffed her hair as she walked toward the front counter in a Marilyn Monroe fashion.
“What do you think?” she said in a deep voice, reminiscent of a 1940’s movie star.
“It looks great! I love the color on you.”
“Why thank you. Of course the way she styled it is way too big for me. But it’s nice to have it done up fancy once in a while. Now, about that driving job…”
“I was thinking about that, and I decided we should have an interview.” I said with my best attempt at authority.
"An interview! Pshaw. We don't need to waste time with an interview! Besides, we’re doing an interview right now. I'll just tell you all about myself and you can see what you think. I've got thirty years of driving experience, commercially. I drove a school bus. And let me tell you, if I can drive a fourteen-ton bus full of forty screaming kids, without getting in any accidents in those entire 30 years, I think you can find me safe enough to deliver your flower arrangements. I never lost a child either.”
"I don’t know. Do you have any retail experience?"
"No, but I'm responsible, and I'm a good driver, and I'll work for fairly cheap. I expect to be paid, but I don't need a lot. I've got some money saved up for retirement. And I don't have a family at home to worry about. I can come in early and work late. Whatever you need. My kids are all grown, and my husband passed away last year. Basically I need a little bit of money coming in to cover the fun stuff, and I need something to do. C'mon kid. I need a job and you need a driver. Whaddya say?"
I paused for a moment to think about the problems that might arise from hiring an older woman. I’d experienced plenty of problems recently with my younger employees.
“She’s hired!” Allie’s voice sounded from the middle of the design room.
“K.C., let me introduce you to my sister, Allie.”
“Hello, Allie,” K.C. leaned over the counter and waved at Allie through the false window, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Well, Quincy?”
"Okay,” I said, “lets give it a try."
"Yippee!" said K.C.
"Have you ever driven a mini-van before?"
"No, but if you can drive a bus you can drive anything."
"Do you think it will be a problem lifting things? Sometimes these buckets are kind of heavy."
"If I can't do it as is, I'll find a way to make it work. I think you'll be surprised, Miss McKay. This old mule has got a lotta kick left in her."
"I'm sure you do." I said with a laugh. I liked this lady. She appeared to be honest and trustworthy, but mostly, she said whatever was on her mind, and I guessed that she did whatever she pleased. I didn’t know if I felt bullied by her or lucky to have met her. Maybe it was a little of both, but it was a perfectly timed change and it was exactly what I needed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After finishing with K.C., I drove to the Shaw’s flower shop. It was in a quaint, pretty, town, but a business in such a small, out-of-the-way place was unlikely to be providing a full income for the Shaw’s. I hoped they had some money saved to live on.
I walked in the front door to find no one in sight, just as before. I knocked on the front counter. “Hello, LaDonna, are you here?” I called out.
“Hello?” A man answered, with a sharpness to his tone.
“Irwin, is that you? It’s Quincy McKay.”
Irwin came out of the office and peered up to the front of the store. “Oh, Quincy. LaDonna’s not here I’m afraid. She’s gone to the chiropractor.”
“Oh, well I was just going to help finish putting the office together. I suppose I could do it without her.”
“Uh, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. You know Mother will be the one using the computer, and I, well this just isn’t a good time. You’ll have to come back later.”
Irwin glanced at his watch then turned his body to look back into the office. He returned his attention to me and sighed, his mouth wrenched into a crooked line.
“Okay, no problem, I can come back,” I said. I moved toward the front door.
No, no, no
, I didn’t want to come back. I wanted information now. Since I had been connected to the unsolved murder of Derrick Gibbons I needed to gather the information that would clear me of any involvement. I wasn’t sure Irwin would be of any help to me, but that switch grass pamphlet was too much of a coincidence. It could also be a clue. I wasn’t sure about what, but it was something.
I turned back and said, “I’ll have to call LaDonna before I come next time. I’m sorry to have interrupted. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay, yes goodbye.” He walked toward me wearing a patronizing half smile and shaking his head. He held his arms out to the sides, shepherding me toward the door.
I watched him over my shoulder as I moved. Before he reached me to shoo me out, I spun around abruptly to face him. “Irwin, I just had one question; maybe you could answer.”
“Oh, okay, what is it?” He took another glance back into the office then dropped his arms to his sides.
“Well the other day I was talking to JoAnne from JoAnne’s Flower Box and…”
“Awful woman,” he mumbled.
“Yes well,” I continued, “she was talking to me about a business opportunity, and I wanted to get your advice about it.”
“Oh?” His bushy eyebrows rose. I had piqued his interest.
“It’s about farming a certain type of plant. It’s a type of foliage that I’ve used in the shop before, but apparently it can be used as an alternate type of fuel. It’s called switch grass.”
I watched Irwin carefully for his response. It didn’t take long for his nostrils to flare, his eyes to grow large, and his face and neck to turn as crimson as a red anemone.
“He told her, too! That son-of-a-gun told me it was exclusive. Only a select group was to be involved.” Spittle collected in the corners of his mouth as he growled out his words. “How many others has he told? He gouged every one of us, making us think we were the only ones. I paid for the whole operation. He didn’t tell me about other investors.” He pointed a thick finger into his chest every time he mentioned himself.”
Irwin looked down at his hands, “He sure got what was coming to him. Too bad I couldn’t do it earlier.” He still looked at his hands, which he balled into trembling fists.
A sickening swell of anxiety expanded from my stomach up my esophagus. I gulped down what I could and forced myself to speak. His demeanor told me I shouldn’t ask what he should have done earlier.
“Irwin, are you all right?” It was the only thing I could think to say. He was shaking all over and any part of his skin that wasn’t covered with clothing was red and sweaty.
“I…Quincy, you have to go. I’m sorry, LaDonna’s not here you’ll have to call her.” He turned around and walked back to the office. He was surprisingly quick. His old man limp from my previous visit was not apparent.
“Okay, bye,” I said to the space he used to occupy. I sprinted to my van. I didn’t know exactly what had just happened but it scared me to death. He had to have been talking about Derrick. I didn’t know if part of the rage was because it was JoAnne that I lied about talking to, or just that Derrick swindled him out of a lot of money. No matter why, he said he should have done it sooner. Whatever “it” was.
###
K.C. arrived the next morning bright and early. I found her sitting in her car in the parking lot when I arrived at five minutes to nine.
“Good morning, K.C.”
“Mornin,’ Kid. Not much of an early riser huh?”
“Not at all.”
“Tell ya what. After I’ve worked here for a little while, if you see fit, you can give me a key and I’ll come in and clean up to get things started in the mornings. But only after I’ve earned your trust.” She winked at me and we made our way into the shop.
I showed K.C. around, acquainted her with the cash register, basic phone skills, the cooler, delivery slips and procedures, and the fine art of bucket washing.
Allie arrived soon after and she and K.C. exchanged pleasantries. I showed K.C. how we make arrangements and in what order things should be done.
“Are you ready to go on your first delivery?” I asked.
“Ready and reporting for duty, Boss.” She clicked her heels and saluted.
We got into the van with K.C. in the driver’s seat. She carefully buckled up, adjusted the rearview and side mirror on her side and asked me to adjust the side mirror on the passenger side to her liking. The trustworthy van started right up and K.C. slowly edged us out of the parking lot.
We drove to Flannery’s restaurant on the east side of town. I had a regular arrangement—pardon the pun—with the restaurant. My shop would put flowers on their front counter once a week, in exchange for referrals for weddings and special events, and the occasional free meal. Flannery’s was a lavish and high-end eatery. They specialized in seafood flown in every morning from the West Coast to ensure freshness. They bragged an extensive wine list, which took five years of applications before the Alcoholic Beverage Commission of the State of Utah approved a license. The commission consisted of a majority of Mormons, with a teetotaler Catholic thrown in just for show.
Anyone who was anyone ate at Flannery’s. It was the one place in the city where I could use high style design techniques with products such as antheriums, Vanda orchids and twenty-dollar-a-stem peonies to my heart's content.
The manager, Mickey Tanner, was at the counter. I usually made sure my driver got there before the lunchtime rush. It was great to take the delivery myself because I could catch up with all of the news I’d missed in the past month. Mickey was full of stories. Restaurants, salons and flower shops form the trifecta of sources for gossip in small towns.
“Hey, Mickey I’d like you to meet K.C. She’s our new delivery driver.”
“I’m pleased to meet you.” He shook her hand. “Gorgeous as usual, Quincy. And you too, K.C. The flowers aren’t bad either.” He laughed like he always did when he made that joke. Mickey is as gay as the day is long, and the joke was predictable, but flattering.
“Quincy,” he lowered his voice and tipped his head indicating that K.C. and I should gather in closer, “did you hear about that awful Derrick from Artful Blooms?”
Had I heard? He had no idea how intimately I knew the situation, but I wasn’t going to talk about my arrest in front of K.C.
“I heard.”
“Who are you talking about, and what happened to him?” K.C. whispered.
I let Mickey tell the story. He didn’t leave out any feelings he may have felt toward Derrick. I’m sure Derrick had found a way to wrong Mickey in some way, just like everyone else he came in contact with.
At the end of the recap, K.C. stood straight up and looked at me for a moment. There was a long pause, and I thought we had definitely offended her. Suddenly, she let loose with a gasping, chortling explosion of the heartiest laugh I had ever heard. She was slapping her knee and wiping away tears.
“In a casket…with flowers!” she shouted amidst her guffaws. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of.”
I felt a new appreciation for my driver. She really understood things the way that she should.
Mickey said, “Unfortunately he deserved to die in an unpleasant manner. He was a nasty little man. Well, not so little after the
steroids,
” he crossed the back of his hand in front of his face and placed it next to his mouth, as if he were sharing a secret. “I have it on good authority from Thomas that he’s been juicing up for quite a while now.” Thomas was Mickey’s life partner. “They go to the same gym. Or at least they did,” he said out of the corner of his mouth then winked at K.C. She giggled.
“Does this man have any family?” K.C. asked.
“He did,” I said “but they’ve moved out of state and disowned him as far as I know.”
“Was he married?” she asked.
Mickey spoke up. “No he wasn’t married, but he had a nice young beau on his arm for a few months. They used to come here together. They would get liquored up to the point we’d have to call a cab. But his friend always paid the bill, no problem. Derrick used to blab when he got tipsy, and talk about how the younger man fell into a bunch of money.”
“His poor friend!” K.C. said with concern. “I bet he must be beside himself.”
“Oh I don’t think so. I got the strong impression that they broke up. Rumor was, it was a bad one. At least it must have been for the friend. Derrick was in here not a full week after the last time I saw him with the boy toy, with Camille LeFay. They had their hands all over each other.”
“Who is Camille LeFay?” K.C.'s eyes were wide open and she hung on every word.
“Well I wouldn’t want to call anybody names. Let’s seeeee, how can I describe her?” He stroked his chin and looked upward, appearing to be thinking very hard. “The only words that come to mind are gold digger. She’s a pro…so to speak.” He mock coughed for emphasis after the innuendo. “She appears to be quite talented too. She’s been Landon Powell’s girlfriend, or escort or whatever she is, for at least a couple of years.”