Evil In Carnations (8 page)

“What are you implying? That only losers come to speed-dating events?”

“No! It just seems like Jonas should have women falling all over him.”

“Maybe they do fall all over him,” she said as we left the ladies’ room, “but maybe he hasn’t found the right one yet. Personally, I thought he was gentlemanly, good-natured, and most important, very interested in me. In fact, he said I was like a breath of fresh air—”

“—on a spring morning. Don’t flatter yourself. He said that to me, too.”

“There he is,” she whispered excitedly.

“Look, there’s Aidan at the end of the bar,” I said, steering her in the opposite direction. “You really need to give him a chance.”

Nikki resisted, pushing me off to one side to say quietly, “I know why you don’t want me to go out with Jonas, and it’s not because you don’t think he’s right for me. It’s because you don’t think he’s right for you!”

“That makes no sense, Nikki. I’ve got a guy, remember?”

“It makes perfect sense. Answer this for me. Who does Jonas remind you of, and I don’t mean Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt.”

“Leo DiCaprio?”

Nikki scowled at me. “No.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the man in question. Perfectly groomed hair, smoothly shaved face, immaculately dressed down to the shine on his shoes . . .
Dear God.
He was Pryce all over again, my ex-fiancé who had dumped me when I flunked out of law school because his parents didn’t feel I lived up to the Osborne family standards.

I shuddered at the memory. “Okay, yes, I agree that on the surface he reminds me of Pryce, but this goes deeper than that, Nikki. I have a sixth sense about people, and that sense is saying Jonas is an accident waiting to happen. Please, Nikki, stay away from him.”

At that moment, a smooth male voice said, “Hello, again.” I turned to find the giant ego in question standing behind us with a fluted glass in each hand. “I thought you ladies might like a fresh drink. Champagne okay?”

“Thanks,” Nikki gushed, gazing dreamily at him. “That’s so sweet.”

“Happy to oblige.” He gave her a movie-star smile. I half expected to see his teeth twinkle.

Handing me the other glass, Jonas slid neatly between us, singling Nikki out. Finding myself suddenly facing his back, I moved away, debating whether I should butt back in or just trust that Nikki would eventually get sick of his smarmy charm and give him the brush-off.

Suddenly, I spotted Carmen Gold standing at the end of the bar, staring at Jonas with a look of pure contempt. She saw me and left the room.

What was that about?

“My lady Ruby Royale,” Del said, giving me a sweeping bow. “How dost thou fare?”

“Fare thee well,” I sang, and turned squarely into Iris. She was holding a glass of red wine, and as it sloshed onto her jumper she glanced at me, her misshapen mouth agape.

“I’m so
sorry
,” I cried, grabbing a stack of cocktail napkins off the bar and handing them to her. “I didn’t see you there. Oh, look at your jumper. Listen, I’ll pay to have it cleaned.”

“That’s okay,” she said, sopping up the wine. “I own a dry cleaner’s. Usually I’m the one getting people to spill on themselves. It’s a great way to drum up business.” She waited a beat, then went, “Ba-dum-bum. That was supposed to be a joke.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Not as sorry as I am.”

To cover the awkward moment I asked, “So is your dry cleaner’s here in Maraville?”

“New Chapel.”

“No kidding. I’m from New Chapel.”

“I know. I’ve seen your picture in the newspaper. You’re the underground florist.”

I stared at her. “Underground?”

“Under. Ground. You know, like flowers grow in soil? Like you use your flower shop as a cover to solve crimes?”

“Ah. I get it.”

“Tough crowd,” she muttered, pretending to tug on an imaginary necktie.

“What’s the name of your dry cleaner’s?”

“Frey’s. It was my father’s business until he died; then it passed to Mother and me.”

“Did you go to New Chapel High?”

“Private school. My parents wanted to make sure a better class of kids were making fun of me.”

What could I say to that? At least I knew why I hadn’t recognized her.

“It’s okay to laugh,” Iris said. “I’m a stand-up comic.”

“Are you serious?”

“I hope not. A serious comic? Now, there’s an oxymoron for you. I perform at the Three Cs Club—that’s short for Calumet Comedy Club—on Wednesday nights.”

Judging by the jokes I heard, I could understand why they put her on a slow night. I glanced around and saw Delroy waiting for an opportunity to approach me again, so I decided to hang on to Iris a while longer. “First time here?” I asked her.

“And the last, if Miss Silver-and-Gold has her way.”

“Did Carmen say something to you?”

“Are you kidding? Even her mole shudders when I come close. And would someone please buy her a lawn mower for that turf on her chin?” Iris waited for my laugh, then tapped on her thumb and said, “Is my microphone on?”

Not that a mic would help her any. “Have you met anyone interesting tonight?”

She used her glass to point to someone behind me. “Have you met
him
yet?”

She was pointing at Jonas. He was still talking to Nikki, who appeared to be in some kind of hypnotic trance—or maybe she’d fallen asleep with her eyes open. “Oh, yeah, I met him, all right—for nine very long minutes.”

“What about her?” Iris asked, pointing toward Nikki. “Who is she?”

“My roommate, Nikki.”

“Lucky girl.”

“Yeah, right,” I said with a laugh. Then I noticed the envy in Iris’s tiny eyes and realized she was being serious. She studied Nikki for a moment, then, without so much as a good-bye, set her glass on a tray, dropped the wine-soaked napkins beside it, and walked toward the door.

Was it something I said?

“Hey, chili pepper.”

With a silent groan I turned, and there was José, grinning broadly. “Want to go for a ride on my hog?”

Thank goodness I knew that he was referring to his Harley; otherwise I might have had to deck him. “No, thanks. And by the way, I’m not a food.”

I turned to walk away, saw Delroy’s face light up—as if he had a chance!—and hurried in the opposite direction. I spotted Aidan picking out cheese bites from the appetizer table and headed his way, figuring he’d be a safe person to talk to.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash outside the restaurant, as though two cars had collided. Everyone stopped talking, but because the back room was windowless, there was no way to know what had happened. A moment later, the restaurant hostess stuck her head into the room and called, “Anyone here own a red Ferrari?”

“Oh, shit,” Jonas said, and started jogging toward her. When Nikki followed, I put down my glass and dashed after her.

By the time I reached the parking lot, a number of restaurant patrons had already gathered there. I managed to squeeze through the crowd to catch up with Nikki, who was watching in dismay as Jonas circled his new Ferrari, sizing up the damage. The sleek red coupe had been rammed from the rear, crumpling the back end and pushing the front into a cement light pole hard enough to smash the headlights and dent the hood. I glanced around for the vehicle that had hit it, knowing it would be pretty banged-up, too, but I didn’t see a likely candidate.

“Poor Jonas,” Nikki said, watching him struggle to get the door open.

“An accident waiting to happen,” I reminded her. I just hadn’t thought it would be so soon.

“The police should be here in a few minutes,” the restaurant manager called, weaving through the people to reach the scene.

Jonas tugged on the handle, then hit his fist against the roof like a spoiled child on the verge of a temper tantrum. He turned toward the gawkers, “Did anyone see who hit my car?”

No one spoke. As a police car arrived at the scene, I caught sight of Carmen Gold standing on the other side of the crowd, watching Jonas with a look of smug satisfaction. Obviously she was enjoying his suffering. Remembering the glares she’d given him earlier, I wondered what was behind her animosity.

“We might as well get our coats and go home,” Nikki said, shivering in the cold night air.

“You haven’t found a date yet. Don’t you want to go back inside and talk to Aidan?”

Nikki pointed across the parking lot. “
That
Aidan?”

I followed her index finger and saw Aidan getting into a Camry. Great. There went my last hope for finding Nikki a date before I left for Key West.

“I was really hoping you’d find someone tonight, Nik.”

“I know,” she said, not sounding terribly disappointed.

“At least you’ll be able to attend a second event free. That’s Cloud Nine’s policy. But I still feel terrible about leaving you all alone this weekend.”

“You’re going somewhere this weekend?”

Good job, Abby.
Sheepishly, I said, “Marco and I are taking a little trip to Key West.”

“Oh? Did you just plan it?”

“Well, actually, we made plans before you and Scott broke up; otherwise I would have delayed it for a while.”

Nikki looked hurt. “You kept the trip a secret from
me
? I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other.”

“I don’t usually, Nikki, but I asked Marco not to tell anyone, so I felt obligated to stick to the same rule. And it was only to keep my parents and his family from finding out. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

“I’ll survive. And don’t worry about leaving me alone. I’ve got my guys Ben and Jerry to keep me company. Besides, once you and Marco are down in the Keys, you won’t even remember I exist.”

“That’s not true!”

Okay, so once in a while I was wrong.

“
N
ikki was right,” I told Lottie and Grace. “Once we stepped off the plane at the Key West airport, I forgot all about her dating problem. Sunshine, perfect weather, a cozy B and B . . . it was wonderful. Then we came home and all hell broke loose.”

I finished my story with an account of the cops showing up at our door to take Nikki away for questioning, and their later return for her clothing and shoes, and how I felt responsible for her predicament because I’d insisted she go.

“Don’t feel bad, sweetie,” Lottie said. “As you said, if Nikki had taken your advice, she wouldn’t be in this pickle. You didn’t arrange that date with Jonas. She did.”

“If I thought about it,” I said, “I could get really pissed off with Nikki about that.”

“Yet, as you also pointed out, dear,” Grace said, “it’s water under the bridge now, isn’t it? What’s important is that Nikki be cleared right away and brought home. Shall I call Dave’s secretary for a status report?”

We trooped to the workroom and waited while Grace made the call from my desk. After a full minute of saying, “I see,” she hung up and turned to face us. “It appears the police have released Nikki for now.”

“For now? They might have to bring her back?” I asked in alarm.

“All Helen would say is that Nikki is supposed to meet with Dave at his office at eleven thirty this morning.”

Lottie glanced at her wristwatch and gasped. “Lordy, it’s nine o’clock. I’d better run up front and unlock the door.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about Nikki, Grace,” I said. “The police should have released her unconditionally.”

“Don’t be hasty,” Grace said, rising. She cleared her throat. “As Helen Keller, that inspiring woman, once said—”

Lottie stuck her head through the curtain. “Six customers are headed for the parlor.”

Grace gave her a nod and continued, “ ‘Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow.’ And now I must go.”

Hastily, too, I noticed.

I called home to see how Nikki was faring but got our answering machine. After leaving a message for her, I tried her cell phone, only to be sent straight to her voice mail. Why wasn’t she answering? Was she so distraught that she’d shut off her phone?

Trying to keep my mind occupied so my worry motor didn’t kick into overdrive, I sorted the orders on the spindle, then started on one that was to be delivered to the courthouse at noon, a birthday bouquet a group of secretaries had ordered for one of the judges. While I put together an arrangement of callas and roses, I heard the bell over the door chime repeatedly as customers came and went. It was music to my ears.

Then I heard, “Where’s my fave little cuz?” and the music became crashing cymbals as the curtains parted and Jillian glided in.

“Abs!” she cried, as though we hadn’t seen each other in years.

Jillian Knight Osborne was my only female cousin. She was a year younger, pounds lighter, and tons prettier. I used to say that she was much luckier, too, but that was until she married Claymore Osborne, my ex-fiancé’s younger brother, in a ceremony that remained legendary in New Chapel’s history for the murder that took place during it.

Always the fashionista, today my cousin sported a white faux-fur swing coat, black faux-fur earmuffs, red mittens, black boots, and a red leather purse trimmed in black. Before I could duck, she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. Since she was also a head taller, my face got mashed against the front of her coat, which set me off on a sneezing fit.

“
Ew.
You’re sick,” She backed away as though I had cooties.

I brushed fine strands away from my nose and mouth, then picked more out of my lip gloss. “I’m not sick. It’s your fur coat.”

“It’s
faux
fur, Abby. How can you be allergic to faux?” Jillian tossed her mittens onto the worktable, scattering a pile of loose rose petals, then swept off her earmuffs and shook free her long, copper-colored hair, her pride and joy. She pulled out a tall wooden stool and perched on it. “So what’s this I hear about you attending a speed-dating event? Don’t tell me you and Marco are splitsville again.”