Evil In Carnations (14 page)

Crap.
That hadn’t turned out the way I’d hoped. I took a sip of coffee and continued. “ ‘Number two, Jonas’s last partner, Duke Kessler, of Kessler Realty.’ ”

I glanced up at Marco. “The Duke of New Chapel? Marco, do you remember those crazy television ads he did where he wore a long purple velvet robe and gold crown, and sat on a throne? Duke Kessler was quite a showman. But didn’t he leave town?”

“Not according to Dave. After Kessler and Jonas split their partnership, Kessler closed his realty office and opened up a fitness club called Put Up Your Dukes Boxing Gym.”

“From real estate to a fitness club? That’s quite a career switch.”

“Especially considering that Kessler had built up a little fiefdom in the real estate world. Dave said the business community was shocked when he suddenly called it quits. I don’t know how Jonas fits into that picture, but since Kessler’s switch came after their split, it’s worth investigating.”

From out in the shop I heard Jillian give a yelp, then cry, “I hate this cash register!”

I continued down the list. “ ‘Number three, former girlfriends. ’ That reminds me—Lottie mentioned that one of the employees at Tom’s Green Thumb Nursery and Greenhouse was engaged to Jonas. Damn. I can’t remember her name. It’ll come to me, though. . . .

“ ‘Number four,’ ” I continued, “ ‘the construction crew’?”

“The crew Jonas hired to build homes in Chat-too whatever Carnations,” Marco said.

“It’s pronounced
shattose ahn carnah-syion,
” Jillian said from the other side of the doorway. “I took French in college.” The phone rang just then, sending her clicking away on her spike-heeled boots.

Marco lowered his voice to say, “I’m not pronouncing it that way.”

I patted his hand. “You don’t have to. So what’s your reason for interviewing the construction crew?”

“Developers often have reputations for getting in financial binds and not paying their workers. You know, disgruntled employee kills boss?”

From the other room I heard, “Jillian Knight Osborne, personal shopp—I mean, Bloomers. Talk to me.”

I glanced at Marco. “How about disgruntled boss chokes employee?”

“Fire her.”

“If only that were an option. But going back to the construction crew, there must be dozens of them working on houses out there. It’ll take time to interview them.” I was still angling for that internship.

“But only one crew was working for Jonas,” Marco explained.

“Still, I’ll bet there’s a dozen guys you’ll have to talk to.”

“If it comes to that, I may have to get the okay from Dave to hire additional investigators.”

“Nikki can’t afford that, Marco.”

“She can’t afford not to, Sunshine.”

“But
you
can afford a free intern.” I gave him a big smile.

“I think you have enough to handle here.” He nodded toward the doorway, where Jillian was probably lurking.

Damn it, I
had
to find a way to help somehow. “ ‘Number five, Jonas’s family members.’ ”

“Cross that one off. Jonas doesn’t have any family in New Chapel. He has only one sister, and she just arrived from Phoenix, Arizona, this morning to take care of funeral matters. Jonas’s father also lives in Phoenix, but he’s in a nursing home and is too sick to travel.”

I borrowed Marco’s pen and drew a line through five. “Number six, the women on Jonas’s list at the speed-dating event.” I pushed the notebook toward Marco. “Put down Carmen Gold, the Cloud Nine event organizer. I saw her give Jonas some surprisingly angry glances during the evening. Later, after we learned his Ferrari had been pushed into a cement post by a hit-and-run driver, she seemed very satisfied about it.”

“Carmen Gold,” Marco said, writing down her name. “Do you know anything about her?”

“I think someone at the event mentioned that Carmen is from Chicago. She’s probably in her late thirties, very stylish, with a real passion for anything silver—clothes, jewelry, even a platinum dye on her hair.”

“Okay, anyone else from that event? Women Jonas made passes at? Guys he ticked off?”

“Not that I saw. There was this odd woman who wanted to know if I’d had the pleasure of meeting Jonas. I thought she was being sarcastic; then she pointed to Jonas talking to Nikki and wanted to know who Nikki was, almost as though she was jealous of Nikki. After I told her, she walked out of the room. Come to think of it, Jonas’s car was hit shortly after.”

Marco wrote it down. “I’ll have to see what I can find out about the hit-and-run investigation. Was this woman still around when the Ferrari was hit?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t looking for her.”

“Did you get her name?”

“I’m trying to remember. . . . Her family owns a dry-cleaning business. Frey’s. That’s it. Iris Frey, because I remember thinking that she looked nothing like her floral counterpart.”

Marco added her name. “Anyone else I should write down?”

“Is there a way to find out the name of the anonymous tipster? I’d sure like to know who alerted the cops that Nikki went out with Jonas. It sounds to me like a spiteful act.”

“That’s why I put ex-girlfriends on the list. Could be a vengeful ex who’s been tailing Jonas or having him tailed. I’ve worked on a few cases like that.”

“How would the ex know Nikki’s name to call in a tip?”

“Follow Jonas, get addresses of people he visits, do a Web search. That’s how I’d find out.”

“Or perhaps the tipster recognized Nikki from the speed-dating event, or even the hospital, for that matter. Did Dave have any more information on the knife used in the murder?”

Marco checked his notes. “From the stab wounds, they know the blade is at least two inches wide and four inches long, very sharp, which means it was either brand-new or someone had recently sharpened it. The cops are dredging the stream by the model home.”

He stuck the notebook back inside his coat pocket and got up. “I’m heading to Nikki’s ex-boyfriend’s neighborhood now to see if I can find any alibi witnesses there; then I’ll pay a visit to Duke Kessler at his gym.” Marco feigned a punch at an imaginary opponent. “I’m a little rusty. It’s been a long time since I’ve boxed. Maybe he’ll have some tips for me.”

“You were a boxer?”

“In the army.” One corner of his mouth curved up as he pulled me against him. “Want me to show you some of my moves?”

“If they’re anything like the moves you showed me in Key West, Salvare, I’m in for quite a workout.”

“I think I’ve created a monster,” he murmured, then dipped his head for a steamy kiss.

From the other room I heard Grace say, “What are you listening to, Jillian?”

At once, quiet footsteps moved away from the doorway.

“Thanks for the java,” Marco said, cutting our kiss short. “I’ll call you later.”

I walked him to the front door, then stood at the bay window to watch him stride down the block. If only I had time to help him.

“You two sure have become disturvable,” Jillian remarked from behind the counter.

“What does that mean?” I asked, in no mood for Jillian’s nonsense.

“Ooey-gooey. You know, like,
ew,
with goo attached.”

“Why do you make up words? It’s really annoying. And we’re not ooey-gooey.”

“I don’t make them up. It’s a fusion process. ‘Disturbingly lovable’ sounds so”—she waved her hand in the air—“dullerless. But
disturvable
has panache.”

“Marco and I are close, Jill; that’s all.”

“Just close? With that kind of kiss? Right. When’s the wedding?”

“We just got back together, for God’s sake. As you well know, I’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than a year, so I’m not about to rush this one.”

Jillian made a sad face. “You’re right, poor thing. You weren’t exactly the most popular girl in high school, were you?”

I gave my cousin a scowl. “I had dates.”

“With gerds,” she said, snickering.

“Gerds?”

“You know, geeky nerds.”

“I just hadn’t blossomed yet. I was very popular in college. In fact, I was, well, wild.”

She howled with laughter. “Yeah, right. Wild Abby.”

“Don’t you dare call me Wabby.” Tired of her snickers, I marched toward the curtain.

“Hold it,” she said. “I just remembered something. I called you Saturday to see if you wanted to go to a trunk show, but Nikki said you were busy and would get back to me—which you didn’t. You weren’t home on Sunday either. Did you sneak off somewhere with Marco?”

I froze. What excuse could I give her?

“And what’s up with Nikki? My mom said she was questioned for hours before the cops let her go, and just now I heard you talking about a tipster and fingerprints and—Ouch! Abby, this stupid cash register closed on my fingernail again. Why do you keep this thing anyway? Computers work so much better. Wait! Where are you going? Come back! I could really use some fresh coffee. And when is lunch?”

Oh, how I wished I were going with Marco.

 

When it came time to make deliveries later that afternoon, I tried once again to recruit Jillian, but she adamantly refused to step foot in the van. “You make the deliveries,” she said. “I’ll work on orders, and Grace can wait on customers.”

“You can’t work on orders. You’re not a trained florist. All you did was copy a flower arrangement from a painting.”

“I
imagined
them,” she corrected.

I snatched a slip of paper from the spindle. “See this? A customer wants a funeral arrangement. Do you have any idea how to make a funeral arrangement?”

“Well, duh. I’ve been to funerals.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes, as though meditating. Then she opened them and said, “Okay. All set.”

“Forget it.”

“Come on, Abs. I promise I’ll do a great job for you.
And
it’ll ease your workload so you can spend more time with Marco. Pretty please?”

I studied her skeptically. If she really could make floral arrangements by imagining them, it certainly would ease my load. On the other hand, what if my cousin had a natural talent for flower arranging that surpassed anything I could do?

What was I thinking? Jillian had a career she loved—shopping with other people’s money. Why would she give it up? Plus, she had the attention span of a gnat. Even if she could make arrangements by imagining them, after doing a few she’d be bored out of her mind.

“Just let me show you what I can do,” Jillian coaxed. “Test me.”

A test?
Hmm.
Maybe she’d hit on the right solution. I sorted through the orders and found three fairly simple arrangements for her to try. If she screwed them up, it wouldn’t take me long to redo them, and the waste would be minimal.

“Okay, Jill, you work on these three orders, under Grace’s supervision, and I’ll make the deliveries. Is that okay with you, Grace?”

Grace, being a good sport, put on a brave smile and gave a nod, so I handed Jillian the first order. “A mixed funeral arrangement using lilies, mums, and roses. Can you imagine it?”

Jillian closed her eyes for a moment, then said, “Got it. Okay, first step, pull the flowers. Or wait. Maybe I should pick out a container first. No, flowers.”

I left her meditating on it.

 

After making my first delivery to an elderly woman who insisted on making me a cup of cocoa and showing me her collection of muffin recipes, I called Nikki to see how she was doing.

“I’m okay, I guess,” she said in a listless voice.

“Was Dave angry with you?”

“Yes,” she said, sighing. “He told me I should have been up-front at the beginning, when he could have taken steps to ameliorate the damage, because now”—her voice began to sound tight—“it looks like I’m going to be charged with murder.” Nikki started to cry. “Abby, what am I going to do?”

“Don’t give up hope, Nikki. Dave said he would have Marco look for someone in Scott’s neighborhood who might have seen you parked near Scott’s house.”

“The way my luck is going, I don’t hold out much hope for that.”

“Give Marco a chance to do his job, Nikki. As some famous person said, you have to keep your face aimed toward the sunshine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have to stay positive.”

She blew her nose. “Easy for you to say. You aren’t the one being accused of murder.”

“Not this time, anyway. Remember what happened when one of my law school professors was found dead right after I delivered a flower arrangement to the law school?”

When Nikki merely sighed, I said, “Are you going into work today?”

“I called in sick. I’m still in bed. I don’t have the energy to get up.”

“You need to get moving, Nik. Go take a shower and grab a bite to eat; then go to the mall. Look for a new pair of shoes.”

“What good are shoes going to do me in prison? I’ll be wearing green booties.” She started to weep again.

“Nikki, stop that. You’re not going to prison.”

“I’m tired, Abby. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

After I hung up, I sat in the minivan trying to think of something that would cheer her up. Obviously being cleared by the cops would do it. What else? When Nikki was blue, she usually shopped for new shoes, but since she had nixed that idea, what did that leave? A new guy?

Wait a minute. Why not? What was to stop Nikki from going out on a date? She hadn’t been charged with anything . . . yet. But then I was back to the problem of finding her a nice guy.

Hold it right there
, my conscience ordered.
You’ve got way too much on your plate to worry about finding her a guy. Besides, that’s how you got Nikki into this mess, remember? If she wants to find a guy, let her go out and look.

It wasn’t easy ignoring the voice of one’s conscience, but for the well-being of my best friend, I had to. What a shame I hadn’t gotten Aidan’s last name. He’d seemed perfect for Nikki.