Nightshade on Elm Street: A Flower Shop Mystery (10 page)

A
s both men seemed to be waiting for me to enlighten them on the interruption, I said, “That was Jillian. She and Claymore are here.”

Pryce glanced at his watch. “Good. I’d like to get these interviews done and the search started as soon as possible.”

“I understand,” Marco said. “Let’s go back to when Melissa arrived on Friday evening. Where were you and she sitting?”

“Over there.” Pryce pointed to a group of chairs and a wicker love seat at the other end of the verandah.

“Where do the Burches live?” Marco asked.

Again Pryce pointed to the opposite end of the verandah. “The next cottage over. You can just make it out through the pine trees.”

“If the Burches were standing outside their house having an argument, would you be able to hear them?” Marco asked.

“No. There’s too much woodland between our cottages. Why do you ask?”

“Orabell claims to have overheard your argument with Melissa,” I said.

“Impossible,” Pryce said. “I’ve been vacationing at this cottage for most of my life and have never heard voices from their side. She must have heard gulls calling. Their cries can sound quite human at times.”

At that moment, a woman, or possibly a gull, warbled from the house next door, “Hello-o-o, hello-o-o!”

Turning, I caught a flash of magenta, as though someone was waving a flag. “Like that gull?” I asked.

Pryce cupped his forehead with his palm. “That would be Orabell.”

I hid my smile.

“Come one, come all!” the gull-woman said. “It’s time for after-dinner cocktails.”

“We’ll be over shortly, Orabell!” Jillian called back cheerily, as she and Claymore came up the path toward the verandah.

Always the fashion plate, Jillian had on a V-neck mint green ankle-length sundress, a large-beaded necklace in mint green, bright peach, and silver, a stack of silver bangles on each wrist, and silver flip-flops with a kitten heel. She far outshone her husband, who had on a golf shirt and shorts in shades of cream and beige that blended with his sandy hair and fair skin. Had he been climbing a sand dune, he would’ve been impossible to spot.

“No, we won’t be right over,” I said to my cousin as she came toward us. “We haven’t finished with Pryce’s interview yet, and we still have all the others to do.”

Claymore turned toward Pryce and said in a low voice, “I thought you told me your interview would take only five minutes.”

“We got a late start,” Pryce murmured back.

I glanced at Marco, and he pressed my knee to let me know he’d caught the lie.

“Hold it,” I said to Jillian, who had just pulled out a
chair at the end of the table nearest to me. “You can’t stay.”

Jillian huffed, her cheery mood turning sour. “I hope you’re not planning to keep us here all evening. The Burches have cocktails waiting.”

“Calm down,” I said. “You can’t drink anyway.”

I saw her eyes widen to the size of satellite dishes and immediately realized my gaffe. My
enormous
gaffe. Marco, too, was staring, as were the Osborne brothers, who were obviously baffled by my comment.

“What I mean is that you
shouldn’t
have a drink,” I said, “because…well,
you
know how mixed drinks have always affected your sleep…when you have them after seven thirty in the evening…as I recall.”

It was lame but the best I could manage on short notice. I lowered my gaze and picked at the place mat, as Jillian was giving me the death stare.

“Abby’s right, dearest,” Claymore said. “You know how restless you get at night after an evening cocktail.”

“That happens to me, too,” Pryce said, as though it were a revelation. “I believe I read somewhere that it has to do with the body’s circadian rhythm.”

“I must have read that very same article,” Claymore exclaimed.

Both men nodded, as though that was the most logical explanation for Jillian’s alleged reaction, when, in fact, I’d always witnessed just the opposite. But as long as they bought it, what did I care?

Claymore took his wife’s arm. “Let’s go to the kitchen and have some tea while we’re waiting. I believe there’s even coconut fudge ice cream in the freezer with your name on it.”

That not only didn’t appease Jillian; it made her ill. Turning a sickly ashen color, she put her hand over her mouth, pushed him aside, and dashed for the front door.

“I forgot,” Claymore said, his cheeks coloring, “she doesn’t like coconut.”

“It makes me queasy, too,” Pryce said. “Perhaps you should toss it out.”

As Claymore followed Jillian inside, Marco said to me, “Did you have any questions for Pryce?”

“Yes, a few.”

Pryce checked the time, but I pretended not to notice. “How would you describe Melissa’s relationship with Lily?”

“Amicable.”

I jotted it down. “How was Melissa’s relationship with Orabell?”

“Amicable, as she was with everyone who was here.”

“How is the relationship between Melissa and your parents?”

I saw Pryce’s spine stiffen. “You can’t possibly think they would have anything to do with her disappearance.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” I told him. “We’re gathering information, remember?”

Somewhat mollified, Pryce replied, “My parents have a good relationship with Melissa.”

“Even after the redecorating job Melissa did in the living room?” I asked.

Pryce placed his palms on the table and rose. “We’re finished.”

No, no, no! Not until I said so. Pryce Osborne II wasn’t about to call the shots on my investigation. “Just a minute, Pryce.”

He sat back down and waited, but wouldn’t look at me.

“Where are your parents? I’m amazed that they’re not here.”

“They’re traveling,” Pryce said, his lips barely moving, as though he hated telling me anything about the elder Osbornes. “I haven’t mentioned Melissa’s disappearance
to them because I know they’ll interrupt their trip to come back.” He started to rise, then paused. “Are we done now?”

“One more thing. We need contact information for Melissa’s brother.”

“I was on my way to get that, Abigail.”

“Okay, then you can go.”

Marco got up and reached across to shake Pryce’s hand. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

Pryce returned the shake, gave me a cool nod, then went inside.

“Were you trying to make him angry?” Marco asked quietly.

“No, I just didn’t want him deciding when the interview was over.”

Marco gave me a look that said he wasn’t buying it.

“Seriously, Marco, that’s all it was.”

“Even the dig about Melissa’s decorating skills?”

“It wasn’t a dig. I was trying to get him to be truthful.”

He studied me for a moment, which made me squirm, but at least he didn’t belabor the subject. “Okay, let’s get our interviews wrapped up. Do you want to talk to Jillian in the kitchen and send Claymore out here?”

“On my way,” I said, pushing back my chair. I gave him a quick hug. “I couldn’t resist that.”

Marco put his hands on either side of my face and kissed me for a long moment. “Neither could I. Now you’d better go before I get serious.”

Serious worked for me. My blood was coursing from that hot kiss. But we had a job to do, so I gave him a sheet of paper from the notebook for his notes, as well as a longing glance, and went inside.

Claymore was pouring tea into a gold-rimmed ivory china cup, while my cousin sat at the kitchen table with her chin in her hands, looking pale and unhappy. I pulled out a
chair across from her and readied my pen. “Okay, you’re next. Claymore, Marco is waiting on the por—verandah.”

“Would you care for tea before I go?” Claymore asked me.

“No, thanks.”

“Is there anything else I can get you before I leave, my darling?” Claymore asked Jillian.

“Just go away, Claymore.”

Like a scolded puppy, he put his head down and quietly left the room.

“That was cruel,” I said. “He was only trying to make you feel better.”

Jillian sighed miserably. “I know. It’s just that lately I can’t stand his hovering. It makes me want to scream. Then I suddenly start to cry. For no reason. What’s up with that?”

“Hormones,” I said. “They’ll even out by your second trimester.”

She cast me a baleful glance. “How did you get to be such an expert?”

“Remember when Nikki’s sister Diana was expecting? I think we were in our senior year of high school. Nikki was so excited about being an aunt that she updated me on her sister’s condition ad nauseam.”

Jillian sighed again. “That’s the worst part.”

“What is?”

“The nauseum.”

“No, Jill, it’s not naus—”

“And by the way, thanks for almost letting the cat out of the bag.”

“I’m really sorry about that. It just slipped out.”

“Let’s talk in the living room. On second thought, I need fresh air, so let’s take a walk on the beach. I can’t stand to go in the living room. Talk about adding nauseam.”

“What happened to the living room?” I asked, following her through the house. “It used to be so charming.”

“Melissa happened.” Jillian opened a sliding glass door and led me onto the wide cedar deck, where I saw four sets of teak tables and chairs shaded by large, tan umbrellas, a wicker settee, and a pair of chaise longues.

We headed down a set of concrete stairs that led from the deck to their in-ground pool. From there, we left the pool area through a gate at the back and walked out onto a wide swath of beach. Far ahead, I saw a dinghy and a motorboat docked at their private pier, the scene of Pryce’s proposal to me. Farther out, a pair of sailboats raced each other, and gulls soared overhead. We both paused to take off our sandals.

“I understand Melissa happened,” I said, trying to match Jillian’s long-legged stride, “but how did her work ever pass inspection?”

“PJ and Evelyn gave Melissa free rein.
Big
mistake.”

It took me a moment to remember who PJ was, but then it clicked. Pryce’s father was Pryce Osborne, Jr., or PJ, as his own father had dubbed him, and Pryce’s mother was Evelyn. Pryce, born after his grandfather had died, had apparently not needed a nickname, which was probably for the best. I couldn’t think of a short moniker that fit him, or at least one that would be usable in polite company. “Why did they give her free rein?”

“It gets complicated, but basically it was because Pryce was going to marry her. They were trying to help him by promoting Melissa as this hot new designer. So to prove how talented she was, they told her to redo the foyer and living room and then they’d have a huge open house to show it off. And in their defense, they had talked with her beforehand and assumed she knew their tastes, especially since she’d been in both their cottage and their house.”

“Shame on the Osbornes for assuming,” I said.

“Shame on Melissa for believing she’s an interior decorator,” Jillian countered.

“Shame on the Osbornes for not checking her references.”

“All I can say is, thank goodness they didn’t have her go any further. Can you imagine the damage she could have done to the rest of the house?”

“What were PJ’s and Evelyn’s reactions after they saw the living room?” I said, starting to feel the heat of the sun on my freckled face.

Jillian stopped to pick up a white shell. “I wasn’t there, but Claymore told me his mother nearly fainted. She said she’d been humiliated in front of their entire social set. PJ had to take her upstairs to lie down.”

This was getting interesting. “Didn’t they preview the room before inviting people over?”

“They’d planned the open house weeks beforehand. Then an opportunity to go to Australia came up, so they turned everything over to Melissa and Pryce. They didn’t return until the evening before the party, and didn’t come out to the cottage until the day
of
the party.”

“Where was Pryce while Melissa was doing the redecorating?”

“Not here obviously. But that isn’t all the Osbornes are upset about.” Jillian threw the shell far out into the water. “Based on Evelyn’s recommendation, a lot of people on Haven Lake hired Melissa to do cottage makeovers, including Halston and Orabell. Since they live next door, Melissa decided to do theirs and the Osbornes’ at the same time.”

“I’m guessing their redo didn’t go well either.”

“Orabell insisted on staying at the cottage to oversee the work, so it’s probably okay, but why do you think I want to go over there for cocktails?”

“Because you’re nosy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Not when I’d inherited the nosy gene, too.

“Melissa was also hired to redo a cottage a few houses down from the Burches’, way down that way,” she said, pointing, “but the owners were so appalled by the design she presented them that they fired her on the spot and then complained loud and long to everyone at the country club.

“You can imagine Evelyn’s embarrassment,” Jillian continued. “There she was touting Pryce’s new fiancée’s amazing talent, and it turned into a fiasco, which, as we know now, turned into Melissa’s broken engagement. Thank God I didn’t disappoint them. And by the way, you know you’re making a huge mistake not to let me choose your shower outfit, don’t you?”