A Sprig of Blossomed Thorn (25 page)

I said goodbye, then found a bench beneath an arched arbor of climbing roses, shaded from the westering sun by a dense-leaved tree, and urged Rosa to sit down. I sat beside her and kept watch over the dumpster.

“I want to go to a Rose Guild meeting,” Rosa announced suddenly.

“Why?”

“I want to ask them why they hated Nana!”

“They didn't, dear. Maybe one or two didn't get along with her—”

“Then those one or two should answer! They must have been the ones who cut down the rose!”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because who else would want to? The ones who didn't want it there in the first place, because Nana wasn't Anglo!”

I closed my eyes briefly. I had thought of another reason for cutting the rose, but I didn't want to discuss it with Rosa at the moment.

The sound of a motorcycle engine made me look up. Tony was circling the garden, looking for a place to park his bike. I stood and watched until he found a space, then turned to Rosa.

“Do you mind waiting here for a few minutes? Then I'll take you home.”

Rosa nodded assent, so I left her beneath the arbor and hurried across the garden to meet Tony. The sun was hot and I was glad I was wearing a hat, even if it was a dark, solar-collecting navy.

Tony had changed out of his suit and was back in his usual t-shirt and jeans. He gave me a quick down-and-up glance as he joined me.

“Still in your funereal splendor?”

“I've been visiting with the Garcias. That's not why I called you.”

He nodded. “So where's this source?”

“This way.” I led him to the dumpster, briefly explaining how Maria's pet rosebush had been cut as described by the neighbor.

“Little act of hate, eh?” he said. “Well, it's vandalism, maybe, but I'm not even sure that would stick.”

“I think it may be more than that. I know Maria was pruning that bush a little over a week ago. Rosa said she'd poked herself on a rose. It was probably this rose. What if the botulism was on the thorns?”

Tony frowned at me. “How could it be on the thorns?”

“I'm not sure. Only if someone put it there, I think.”

He stared at me, looking unhappy. Turning to the dumpster, he flipped back the lid and made a face. “Phew.”

“The rosebush is wrapped in a blue tarp.”

“Yeah, I see it. Think I'll wait for the techs. You couldn't have thought of this before the bush landed in the dumpster, could you?”

I gave a helpless shrug. “I was about to give up on the whole thing, but then Rosa mentioned that the wound that became infected was a rose prick. Maria had complained to her that it wasn't healing.”

Tony's face hardened as he gazed at me. He muttered a curse under his breath, then pulled out his phone.

I glanced over toward Rosa. She was still sitting beneath the arbor, looking dejected. I waited while Tony harried his evidence techs along, then when he disconnected and started dialing another number, I interrupted.

“Excuse me, but if you don't mind I think I'll take Rosa home.” I gestured toward where she was sitting.

“I'm going to need to talk to her, confirm the thing about the rose prick.”

“Does it have to be now? She's a little worn down by the funeral and all, I think.”

He followed my gaze, looking at Rosa. “No, it doesn't have to be now.”

“Thanks. I'll be back in just a few minutes.”

“You don't have to come back. All they're going to do is fish that stuff out of there and take it straight over to the lab.”

“Well, all right. Be sure to tell them to be careful not to be scratched by those thorns.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He glanced at the dumpster. “Or rather, too much shit down in there. Even if there isn't any botulism on those branches, I wouldn't want to pick up a scratch.”

I smiled. “Thank you for coming so quickly, and for not dismissing me out of hand.”

“I know better than that.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Why, Detective Aragón! I believe that was a compliment!”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Don't let it go to your head.”

“No danger of that,” I said wryly. I started to turn away, then felt the prick of conscience. I faced him again, my heart beating rather fast.

“Tony—I'm going to a lecture on Wednesday night with some friends. Would you like to join us?”

“A lecture?” he said, looking incredulous.

“Yes. Microbiology.”

“That sounds ... really boring.”

“It's the Santa Fe Institute. Their speakers make even the most boring subjects interesting.”

His eyes narrowed. “And if I suffer through this lecture, what do I get?”

“Dinner afterwards. We usually wind up at Pranzo or India Palace.”

“Uh-huh. Who're the friends?”

“My best friend Gina—you've met her—and her current boyfriend.”

“So you're talking double date.”

“Well, yes.”

I stood waiting, feeling nervous all out of proportion to the situation. I was an adult, after all, not the anxious teenager I seemed to be channeling.

Tony gazed at me for a long moment. “Yeah, okay. Do I have to dress up?”

“A little nicer than jeans would be good.”

“It's a sacrifice, but you're worth it.”

I gave a cough of laughter, this time disproportionally pleased. “The lecture's at seven. Come to my house at six-fifteen and we'll all go over in Gina's car.”

“Okay.”

I stood gazing at him foolishly, reluctant to leave. “Um, you'll call when you hear from the lab?”

“Yeah, but it could be a while. They're probably closed for the day.”

“I don't suppose there's any way to expedite things?”

“That's what I was about to do,” he said, gesturing with his phone.

I nodded. “I'll leave you to it, then.”

He smiled briefly, though his face had gone back to cop mode. I took a couple of steps backward, then tore my gaze away and turned. Heading toward where I'd left Rosa, I saw that she was no longer alone.

A woman was standing by the bench where Rosa sat. She was facing away from me so I couldn't tell who it was, but she was wearing a floppy hat.

 

 

25

I
quickened my steps, wishing I could run without looking ridiculous. My narrow-skirted dress prevented that, so I settled for a businesslike scurry that quickly brought me to the arbor.

The woman in the hat turned as I came near, and I saw that it was Joan Timothy. She had changed into casual clothes that went along fine with her hat of loose-woven straw. The face she turned to me was aghast.

“Ellen! Is it true that Maria's rosebush has been cut down?”

“Yes, I'm afraid it is.”

“I can't believe it! Who would do such a thing?”

“Who indeed?”

A wary look came into her eye. She turned back to Rosa. “I'm so sorry! What a terrible thing to discover, today of all days.”

“Yes,” I said. “So I think we'd better go.”

I gently took Rosa's arm and coaxed her to get up. She clung to me a little, and I could see that she'd been crying again.

“Please excuse us,” I said to Joan. “Perhaps I could call you a little later? We need to talk.”

The wary look grew into a worried frown. “All right.”

“Thanks.”

I gave her a polite smile and led Rosa away, back through the garden to my car. Fortunately I had parked far enough from the spot where Maria's rosebush had been planted that we didn't have to pass it again.

I glanced back toward the dumpster before getting into the car. Tony was pacing beside it, phone to his ear. I saw Joan standing over by the chopped rosebush, gazing down at what was left. For a nervous instant I wondered if Rosa had told her about the neighbor seeing it cut down, and that it was in the dumpster. Joan didn't look that way, though, and as I watched her a police SUV pulled up and double-parked at the curb by the dumpster.

Seeing that Tony had backup, I got in my car and drove Rosa home, restoring her to the tender care of her large family. I was tempted to return to the park, but from what Tony had said it was likely they'd already be gone. Even if they weren't, I'd only be in the way, so I drove home, went upstairs, and kicked off my navy pumps, grateful to get out of the funeral togs at last.

I put my hat in its box and hopped into the shower. Half an hour later I was much more comfortable in a caftan top and shorts. With a glass of ice water in hand, I crossed the hall to my office, dug Joan's card out of my desk, and dialed her number.

“Joan, hi, it's Ellen Rosings. Sorry I couldn't stay to talk in the park.”

“Oh, no, I quite understand. Poor child, she'd had a long day.”

“Yes.” I paused to choose my next words with care. “Joan, you told me that Lucy Kingston is a follower. Who did she follow the most?”

A long silence followed. I turned on my computer while I waited.

At last Joan gave a sigh. “Cora.”

“Cora Young?”

“Yes. I suppose you think it was she who cut down the rosebush.”

“I do.”

I had only wanted Joan to confirm what I already suspected. I brought up the Rose Guild's website on my computer. Clicking on the “Board of Directors” link, I saw photos of Joan, Cora, and Lucy, along with a number of others, but no picture of Maria.

“Joan, who does your website?”

“Cora's daughter, Lisa.”

“So that's why Cora's already listed as Vice President.”

“It says that? She won't be confirmed until Thursday. Of course, there's no question about it, but still....”

“Cora hated Maria, didn't she?”

“Oh, dear. I don't like talking about this.”

“Sorry, but I need to know.”

She sighed. “Cora felt threatened by Maria. They never got along well, but at first Maria was philosophical about it. I think she knew, coming into the Guild as she did—well, I think she felt a little out of place.”

“No thanks to Cora and Lucy.”

“Yes. Though in recent years Maria took a more active role in the Guild. I think she just needed an outlet after she retired—you know, running a restaurant, one must be used to telling others what to do.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Oh, of course you do. Well, anyway, Maria started to putting her name in for the Board. She was elected, and promptly ran for office. She became Vice President for the first time ... I think it was six years ago.”

“And Cora was bent out of shape?”

“She was furious, that first year! I spent a lot of time talking her down. She convinced herself that Maria was out to get her personally.”

I thought that was possible, though from what I'd learned of Maria she'd probably go about it indirectly. She was the sort who let her actions speak for themselves.

“Then when Maria had that fall, poor dear, and was in the hospital for months, Cora stepped in as Vice President pro tem. She seemed eager to make up for the past—she worked very hard. She took on all publicity matters. That's why we have such a good website.”

A good website with no mention of Maria, except as a donor. I wondered if she'd ever been listed on it as an officer at all.

“What happened when Maria came back?”

“Well, there was a little unpleasantness. Cora didn't say anything to Maria directly, but there were little things. Comments about Maria's being too frail to handle the office. I think Cora must have complained privately to Lucy, and Lucy had no compunction about being offensive to Maria's face.”

“Do you think Lucy could have cut down the rosebush?”

“I really don't think so. She's mostly all talk.”

I nodded. I was fairly certain now that Cora had cut down the bush. Less certain why. Had she merely killed a rose, or had she also killed Maria?

“Thank you, Joan. This helps me understand a lot.”