Nightshade on Elm Street: A Flower Shop Mystery (14 page)

“You haven’t figured
that
out either?” Orabell clucked her tongue at me, then turned to wave at her guests through the glass. “Hello-o-o, darlings!”

“Abby, she’s too far gone,” Marco whispered. “Let’s talk to her tomorrow.”

“But being drunk might be a good way to get Orabell to say things she might not say otherwise,” I replied, very sotto voce.

“Darlings,” Orabell said, turning toward us, “I should really be outside with my guests. Are we nearly finished?”

“Just about,” I said. “But first, would you explain what you sensed about Halston on Saturday evening that made you believe he had something to do with Melissa’s disappearance?”

“It’s quite simple, really. After being seated next to Melissa at the dining room table, Halston was unhappy and out of sorts for the rest of the night. He couldn’t even sleep. I had to lend him one of my sleeping pills. What else am I to attribute it to but that she spurned him?”

“Indigestion?” Marco said.

“Halston has a cast-iron stomach,” Orabell countered.

“Are you sure there wasn’t anything else going on during dinner or afterward that could account for his mood?” I asked.

“Nothing—
hic
—well, I shouldn’t say that.” She paused to hiccup again. “Halston knew I was upset about my piano…I mean Piaget. He heard me doing everything possible to elicit a confession from Lily, yet he refused to lift a finger to help me.” Orabell tried to hit her fist against the table, but missed.

“By Piaget, are you referring to your missing watch?” Marco asked.

“We never refer to it as a
watch
, darling. It’s a Piaget Altiplano, the world’s thinnest automatic timepiece, in white gold. And I didn’t
lose
it. As I just said, that spiteful Lily pilfered it. But would Halston address the issue? Absolutely not. He was so aggrieved over Melissa, he dumped the matter in my lap.”

“Are you certain Lily took your wa—timepiece?” I asked, remembering the pale mark on Lily’s wrist.

“The Piaget was in my jewelry closet before the party she catered and gone afterward. What else am I to think?”

“Is the closet easily accessible?” Marco asked.

“You’ve never seen my closets, have you? That’s an experience not to be missed.” Orabell rose unsteadily, finished her martini, set the glass down, and started toward the open stairway that was visible from the entire main floor. “Come with me, darlings, and I’ll show you.”

We followed her upstairs to a roomy walk-in closet that had white folding doors across the entire back wall. She opened a pair of louvered doors, and I stifled a gasp. In front of me were dozens of white, bald, faceless manikin heads, each in its own cubicle, each with its own display of a necklace and earrings. The entire closet was backlit, giving the heads an otherworldly glow.

“Don’t be alarmed, Annie,” Orabell said with a hiccup. “All that’s in this one is costume jewelry.” She pointed to another pair of doors at the far end of the wall. “
That’s
where I keep my valuable jewels. Do you want to see, darling?”

“We’re more interested in seeing where you keep your timepieces,” Marco said.

She motioned for him to step aside. “This,” she said, folding back another closet door, “is where I keep my timepieces.”

White models’ hands, at least two dozen of them, each in a cubicle, fingers pointing upward, displayed watches on slender white wrists. Orabell bent down and nearly plunged headfirst into a cubicle, catching herself at the last minute before she plucked one of the hands from its shelf. “You see? Bare where my lovely Piaget should be! Oh, the audacity of that Lily!”

“Why aren’t these closets locked?” Marco asked.

“We have an alarm system that’s turned on every night,” Orabell said as she chose a photo from the cubicle. “And frankly, darling, there’s never been a reason to have to lock up my jewelry.” She held out the photo. “This is my lovely, lost Piaget.”

Marco took it, so I leaned over to study it. The photo was a close-up of Orabell’s wrist sporting the gold Piaget. It was elegant and thin, with a circle of pavé diamonds around the mother-of-pearl face. I couldn’t have even guessed its worth.

“I keep photos of all my valuable jewelry for insurance purposes,” she told us.

“Shouldn’t you keep them in a safe?” Marco asked.

“That’s where they all normally reside. I’ve needed this one.”

“Do you have cleaning people?” I asked.

“During the summer, yes, but I monitor them religiously.”

“Isn’t it possible that one of your guests took the Piaget?” Marco asked.

She laughed. “My word, no! Our friends, as well as Halston’s clients, are very wealthy people, darling, the one exception being Lily. Everyone else has their own valuable timepieces.”

“How often do you check this closet?” Marco asked, examining the bare hand.

“When I need to match my timepiece to my outfit.”

“Would that be daily?” Marco asked, as Orabell replaced the hand on its shelf.

“It depends on my mood. Today, for instance, I’m wearing red, so I chose this Movado.” She held out her skinny arm, showing us a shiny red leather watch with a black face.

“So you didn’t notice the watch missing until the morning after the party that Lily catered?” I asked.

“
Timepiece
, darling, and yes, the morning after the party, when I decided to wear platinum accessories. I can’t begin to describe the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.” She belched and immediately apologized.

“Is it possible someone on Lily’s staff came upstairs and slipped in here?” Marco asked.

“No, darling, I would have noticed, trust me. You surely saw that the staircase is easily visible. I’m telling you, it has to be Lily, because she was the only one allowed up here to use the guest powder room, which is right across the hall from this closet. The others on her staff had to use the servants’ washroom off the kitchen.”

“Why did you make an exception for Lily?” Marco asked.

“I wasn’t the one who did,” Orabell said, shrugging in exaggerated dismay. “Lily is Halston’s client. He’s the one who allowed it. I’ve never trusted the woman.”

“Did you see Lily come up here?” I asked.

“Yes,” Orabell said. “Clever, wicked Lily.”

“Did you follow her upstairs?” I asked.

“I put Halston on it, as I was overseeing food placement at that time.”

“Did you ask Lily whether she took your Piaget?” Marco asked.

“That would’ve been too rude, my dear. I did ask—politely—to see her wrist, but she refused to show me. Now tell me.” Orabell waved her hand in the air and
nearly toppled backward. “What more proof does one need?”

Her credibility as a witness evaporated completely at her last statement.

“How many parties has Lily catered for you?” Marco asked.

“Oh, dozens. At least eight this summer alone.”

“Have you ever found anything missing before?” Marco asked.

“No, but the economy wasn’t this bad, was it?” Orabell put her hand alongside her mouth, as though there were someone else in the room, and whispered loudly, “The word around the lake is that Lily’s bistro isn’t faring well. She probably sold my Piaget to keep her place running.”

“I’ve heard Beached is crammed every night,” I said.

“That doesn’t mean people are spending a lot of money there,” Orabell said.

“If I may ask,” Marco said, “what is the average tab for one of your parties?”

Orabell took a moment to think. “Between six and eight thousand dollars.”

And she’d thrown
eight
parties this past summer? I did a fast calculation and came up with an expense of between forty-eight and sixty-four thousand dollars. “Why would Lily jeopardize such a lucrative relationship?”

“People like her have no scruples, darling. They’re opportunists. Lily saw her opportunity and seized it. Next thing you know, she’ll have her claws into my husband, too. Not that she hasn’t tried already. Lily is always after handsome, wealthy men. If she can’t have Pryce, she’ll take whomever fits the bill.”

“So your theory is that Lily stole the Piaget because her bistro has fallen on hard times?” Marco asked.

“It’s not just a theory, darling. There’s simply no other explanation.”

“If she took your timepiece for the money,” Marco said patiently, “wouldn’t she have sold it right away to pay her bills?”

“What are you getting at?” Orabell asked.

“She wouldn’t have had the timepiece on her wrist if she’d sold it,” I explained.

Orabell’s eyebrows drew together as she pondered his question. “Then why wouldn’t she show me her wrist?”

“Maybe you offended her by asking,” Marco said. “Why would she wear it to your house and run the risk of you seeing it?”

I remembered Lily’s bare wrist again and wished I’d mentioned it to Marco. Lily had obviously worn a watch enough to get tan lines around it, so why hadn’t she worn one today? Was it possible Lily did take it?

“Lily stole it, I tell you. She stole my Piaget, and—
hic
—she has to pay for it.”

As Orabell started for the door, I whispered to Marco, “You’re right. Orabell is sloshed. Let’s move on.” He gave me a nod.

“One more question, Orabell,” he said. “How did you know who you heard arguing on the verandah Friday evening?”

“By simple powers of deduction, darling. I saw Melissa’s car in the driveway and—
hic
—I know her voice.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Marco said, offering her his arm. “May I escort you back to the kitchen?”

Orabell smiled. “Why, aren’t you the perfect gentle—
hic
—man?”

Yep. That was my Marco. A gentle hic-man.

As we entered the kitchen, my cell phone beeped. I pulled it out of my purse and read the screen. It was a text message from Jillian that read:
I know what U did to me. Lame! :-<

What I did to her? I turned to glance out the window and saw her make a face at me, her eyeballs bulging. Oh, right! The fish eyes.

Her head bent as she worked her phone. A few seconds letter, another text came in:
I M getting a tour. U R not invited.
It was followed by the symbol of a person sticking out her tongue.
:-p

I was about to send a text back that said,
Too late!
when Halston came striding through the open French doors.

“My turn to play,” he announced, giving me a wink, as Marco shut the door behind him. “May I sit across from you, my dear?”

“Please,” I said.

He took my hand and bowed over it, an aging but still dashing Sir Galahad. Then he pulled out a chair, and dropped into it. Waving a hand in Marco’s direction, he said, “Fire when ready, General. And please speak up so I can hear you.”

Marco sat down and folded his hands on the table. “I’ll try to keep this brief so you can rejoin your guests.”

“Correct you are,” he said. “Wouldn’t do to ignore my guests. Mummy would have kittens.” He guffawed so loudly, those kittens would have scattered like leaves.

“Halston, are you sticking by your allegation that Pryce is responsible for Melissa’s disappearance?” Marco asked.

“Can’t say that I ever believed it in the first place.” Halston stretched out his legs and leaned back in his chair, his arms folded comfortably across his chest. “Had to go along with the missus to keep peace in the family, if you know what I mean.”

“Then your wife still believes it?” Marco asked.

“Couldn’t tell you what her latest allegations are,” Halston said. “They change hourly, depending on her mood.”

“Do you have any insights into what may have happened to Melissa?” Marco asked.

“Insights, is it?” Halston gazed up at the ceiling, rubbing his jaw. “I’d venture to say that if anyone would have insights, it would be Lily.”

“Why Lily?” Marco asked.

“Wanted Pryce for herself, you know. Took his engagement to the girl hard. Barrels of resentment there. Married that wastrel Jake on the rebound and has regretted it ever since.”

“In what respect did Lily take Pryce’s engagement hard?” Marco asked.

“Not sure I understand what you’re getting at,” Halston said.

I tried to rephrase it for him by cutting to the chase. “Have you ever witnessed Lily taking out her resentment on Melissa?”

“Can’t say that I have, but it’s not like I look for that sort of activity.” Halston glanced around. “Thought I brought my ’tini in with me. What a bother. Must have left it outside.”

“We’ll be done here in just a few minutes,” Marco said.

“Best make it a few seconds,” Halston said with his barking laugh. “My brain is starting to clear.”

“How do you know Lily took the engagement hard?” Marco asked.

“That would be Orabell’s department. I’m just repeating what she told me.”

“Are you saying you have no firsthand knowledge that would make you suspect that Lily had a hand in Melissa’s disappearance?” Marco asked.

Halston slapped his palm on the table. “You are one hundred percent correct, my good man.”

“What kind of relationship do you have with Melissa?” Marco asked.

“Friendly. She’s one of my clients. Reminds me of the daughter I wish I’d had.”

“Do you have any children?” I asked.

“Sadly, no. Orabell never wanted any. Said they’d ruin her girlish figure and put a crimp in her lifestyle.”

Lucky children. “Pardon me for asking, but why do you call her Mummy?”

“Started out as a joke,” he said to me in a wistful voice. “She used to get a weekly spa treatment that had her wrapped up from head to toe. I called it her
Mummy time
, and it stuck. She’d tell you differently, tell you it’s because I require mothering, but now you know the real story.” Halston glanced at Marco and pretended to come to attention. “Sorry, General. Didn’t mean to digress. Full speed ahead, then.”

For a man pretending to be buzzed, Halston’s clear, concise answers didn’t support it.

“Have you ever had a relationship with Melissa outside of work or your social get-togethers?” Marco asked.

Halston gave him a puzzled look. “What other kind would there be? Surely you aren’t suggesting romantic leanings.”

When Marco didn’t reply immediately, he sat upright, clearly indignant. “That’s absurd. Who told you that?”