Nightshade on Elm Street: A Flower Shop Mystery (12 page)

“Sure you can,” I said, following. “You said you wanted to see their cottage. Come on.” I started up the hallway to gather our men.

“Can’t.”

“Yes, you can, Jillian,” I said, turning to motion her on. “Think positive.”

“Thank you very much. Now I’m
positive
I have to puke.”

I stepped back as she made a dash for the bathroom up the hallway.

“I’ll wait on the verandah,” I called, then headed toward the front door to see how the boys were doing.

But Marco and Claymore were nowhere to be found. Instead, I found Pryce and a slender, dark-haired woman sitting side by side on the wicker settee. By the looks of it, they were having quite a cozy conversation.

Probably not Melissa, then.

I
cleared my throat as I opened the screen door and stepped outside, startling Pryce and the woman. Instantly, he took his arm out from behind her and got to his feet. The woman ignored me by pulling out her smart phone and tapping something onto the screen.

“Finished with Jillian’s interview?” Pryce asked, pretending to smile. Or maybe it was a genuine smile. With Pryce, one could never tell. What I could tell was that he seemed to have lost his urgency to find Melissa.

“Yep. Are you finished with yours?” With a tilt of my head, I glanced in the woman’s direction, letting Pryce know (a) I was waiting for an introduction, and (b) I had seen how intimate they’d been.

Blushing deep red, he said, “Lily Caldwell, owner of Beached Bar and Bistro.”

Lily looked up from her tapping in annoyance. “What?”

“Lily, this is Abigail Knight. She’s working with the investigator I hired.”

“Just call me Abby,” I said.

Lily tossed back her long hair, setting her silver chandelier earrings to dancing. She was wearing a long, strapless white sundress that showed off her light tan, flawless
skin, and curvaceous figure. Her white gladiator sandals displayed glossy apricot toenails.

After a quick once-over, she pursed her full lips. “You’re the florist?”

“Yes. I own Bloomers Flower Shop.” I reached out to take her limply offered hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure,” she said in a flat voice, letting me know it was anything but. I was surprised she didn’t throw in a yawn. The stack of silver bracelets on her wrist jangled as she withdrew her hand and draped her long bare arm over the back of the settee.

“I was explaining to Lily,” Pryce said, “that Jake had set up appointments for you and Marco to meet them at the bistro at ten tonight, but Lily never got the message. Turns out it wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

“I don’t know what Jake was thinking,” Lily said. “We’re busy from eight o’clock until midnight all summer long. I rarely get home before one in the morning.”

“She made an exception for us this weekend,” Pryce added, as though he had to explain.

“No problem,” I said. “We can interview them now.”

“Jake isn’t here,” Lily said, brushing a fly off her arm. “He’s at the gym, and I have to get back to the bistro to check on things.”

I waited for her to offer more, but she didn’t. “When will he be done at the gym?”

Lily started to turn her wrist, as though she was going to check her watch, then caught herself and gave me a shrug instead. I noticed a white area on her arm where a watch had obviously been.

“Would you mind contacting him to find out?” I asked.

Without replying, she picked up her phone.

“You can catch them here tomorrow morning, if you’d like,” Pryce said quietly.

The screen door squeaked open, and Jillian emerged
from the house looking flushed, hot, and cranky. “Where’s Claymore?”

“He and Marco took a walk on the beach,” Pryce said. “They’ll meet us at the Burches’ later.”

Lily put her phone down beside her. “I texted Jake.”

By the way she’d said it, she considered her job done.

“Hello, Jillian,” Lily said in that same bored tone.

Jillian gave her a half smile, then put her hands on her hips and looked at Pryce. “So are we going next door or what?”

“Excellent idea,” Pryce said with his fake smile, clearly trying to humor her. “Let’s join the neighbors for cocktails.”

Jillian threw me a look that dared me to make a comment and then started down the wooden steps by herself. Pryce held out his arm for Lily, but she didn’t take it.

“You know how I feel, Pryce,” she said. “I refuse to step inside that woman’s cottage until she apologizes to me. If anyone wants to interview me, it’ll have to be done here and now because I’m leaving in five minutes.”

Anyone
being me, obviously.

Pryce glanced from Lily to me with an expression that said,
What do I do?
It was one of those rare occasions when he seemed unsure of himself.

I pulled a wicker chair up to the settee and took out my pen and notebook. “Let’s get started, then. Pryce, will you tell Marco where I am?”

Looking relieved, he gave a nod and trotted off after Jillian.

“What does Orabell have to apologize for?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t heard about the watch.

“Stupidity,” Lily said drily, “to the point of my wanting to drown her.”

Good thing for Lily that Orabell wasn’t the one missing. “Would you elaborate?”

“No.”

“Because…?”

“Because it’s none of your business.”

I was not enjoying Lily’s attitude. “Okay. Well, I’m guessing that Orabell did or said something to offend you, but if you don’t want to tell me about it, the others will fill me in.”

Lily folded her long arms under her bosom, letting me know with a sharp sigh that she was extremely put out. “
Orajel
accused me of taking her watch. Satisfied?”

“You mean Orabell,” I said, pausing my writing.

“Or-a-jel,” Lily said slowly. “It’s a teething gel for babies. Works by numbing the gums.”

Orajel. Great one. I’d laugh if I liked Lily more. “Why does Orabell think you stole her watch?”

“Seriously? Is this necessary?”

“We’re gathering as much information about the weekend as possible, because we never know what tiny bit of knowledge will help us locate Melissa.”

“I guarantee you that Orajel’s inane accusation has nothing to do with Melissa, but, fine. Whatever. After I catered a party for the Burches, Orajel claimed her watch was stolen. Did she come right out and ask if I’d taken it? No. She just hinted at it. Repeatedly. In front of everyone. To make me feel even worse, she criticized every dish I prepared for last Saturday’s dinner. And I’m not kidding. Every. Dish.”

“Did you confront her about her accusation?”

“Absolutely. By the end of the evening, I’d had it with her. I said, ‘Prove it, Orabell. Prove I stole your watch.’”

“What was her response?”

“She said she intended to do just that. So I left. Walked out of the house, got into my car, and drove back to my restaurant.”

“Did she say why she suspected you?”

Lily twisted a long strand of hair into a tight, angry coil. “No. Someone else told me why.”

“Who?”

“Halston. He felt bad about the way Orajel was behaving and said she was being a pain in the butt to both of us because she has some crazy notion that we’re having an affair. As if I could ever find that crashing bore appealing. I mean, please. Halston is handsome, no doubt about it, but he’s my stockbroker. Orajel knows I have to meet with him.”

I glanced at her bare wrist a second time. “So Orabell made the accusation about her watch and the digs about your food out of jealousy?”

“I told you she was stupid.”

“Did Halston do anything about Orabell’s behavior?”

“Nothing.” Lily let her hair untwist. “No surprise there. He’s very protective of her and does whatever he can to please her, even though there’s no earthly way to do that. I’d feel sorry for him if I respected him more, but how do you respect someone who lets himself be walked on? Throwing all those parties is expensive. Remodeling their cottage every few years is expensive. Providing her with designer clothes every season is expensive. But Halston does it without a complaint. I suppose it’s better than incurring the wrath of
Orajel
.”

I was getting really tired of that name. “How do you get along with Melissa?”

“Why is that important?”

“I’ve heard that there’s some rivalry between the two of you over Pryce.”

Lily laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Jillian
does
remember I’m married, doesn’t she?”

“I didn’t say it was my cousin who told me that.”

“You didn’t have to. I know Jillian. She’s a gossip.”

No argument there.

“You two don’t look anything alike, by the way,” Lily added.

“I know. I’m the short, freckled one.”

“I was going to say the smart one.”

I scribbled on the notepad:
I might have to change my opinion of Lily.

“So there’s never been a rivalry between you and Melissa?”

“I was jealous of Melissa at first, but I was able to let it go.”

“Do you still have romantic feelings for Pryce?”

“I’ve known Pryce since my college days. We’ve been friends forever.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I fail to see what your question has to do with Melissa’s disappearance.”

“Same response as before.”

“So if I say yes, are you going to insinuate that I stuffed Melissa in a meat locker so I could have Pryce to myself?”

“I wasn’t going to insinuate that…but now that you mentioned it, did you?”

That got the first genuine laugh from Lily that I’d seen. “There are certain people I wish I could do that to, but Melissa’s not one of them.”

“So you didn’t have any hurt feelings when Pryce asked Melissa to marry him?”

Lily drummed her fingers on the arm of the settee. “Of course I did. But I don’t hold that against Melissa. I got over it, just like I did when Pryce got engaged to you.”

Zing.
“Where do you think Melissa is?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Are you concerned?”

“I’d like to know what happened to her, but concerned? No. Melissa’s been hurt. She’s probably licking her wounds someplace where they sell umbrella drinks on the sand.”

I heard footfalls on the ground and turned to see Marco come striding toward the verandah, looking hunkarifically hot.

Hunkarifically?
Where had that come from? Was Jillian’s word mania boring its way into my brain?

Lily took notice of him, too, flipping her long hair to one side, tilting her head, and giving him a catlike glance as he strode up to us. “You must be Marco.” She held out her hand.

Bo-hunk took it, his mouth curling at the corners ever so slightly. “You must be Lily.”

She batted her eyelashes. “You must be right.”

I cleared my throat, in case I had suddenly become invisible, causing Lily to slide her hand from Marco’s in a slow, sensual move. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see her rub her head against his ankles and purr.

I was back to disliking her.

“I have to get to the bistro,” she said, bending down for her white patent clutch purse, giving Marco a partial view of her assets. She rose from the wicker settee, the soft material of her sundress gliding down her long tanned legs.

“Thanks for your time,” I called, as she sashayed down the wooden steps.

“Give Orajel my regrets,” she tossed back. With a laugh, she headed toward the garage.

“If she uses that name one more time,” I said, “I’m going to choke her.”

“Interesting woman,” Marco said, watching her. “How did the interview go?”

“Hey,” I said, raising my hand. “I’m over here.”

Before I could blink, he had pulled me into his arms. Gazing down into my eyes, he said in a sexy rumble, “
Now
you’re over
here
.” And then he kissed me.

A breathless minute later, I said, “Did I inspire that move or was it part of your Ranger training?”

“Both,” he murmured, his lips against my neck. “Want to see another?”

At that moment, Claymore came pounding up the steps, breathing hard and looking worried. “Do you know where Jillian’s purse is?”

“I think it’s in the kitchen,” I said, straightening my clothing. “Why? What happened?”

“She needs her mints.” He flung open the screen door so hard, it banged against the siding.

“A breath mint emergency?” I sat down and gave Marco a come-hither glance, patting the cushion beside me. “I’ll tell you about my interview with Lily if you tell me about your interview with Claymore.”

“As fascinating as that sounds, let’s compare notes later so we can interview the Burches while Orabell is still sober.”

“Is she well on her way to sloshdom?”

“About halfway there. You realize you just made up a word, don’t you?”

“Did I?”

“Sloshdom.”

“Post-traumatic Jillian disorder.”

“Sure.” He took my hand and led me through the elm trees.

As we approached the Burches’ two-story brown cedar home, Claymore overtook us, dashing up a stone path that ran up to their front porch and along one side of the cottage to the back.