Nightshade on Elm Street: A Flower Shop Mystery (15 page)

Before Marco could reply, Halston said, “Never mind. I’m sure it doesn’t matter.”

It seemed as though he’d guessed the answer and didn’t want to know more, no doubt trying to protect Orabell. But I could tell by Marco’s intent expression that he wasn’t about to drop that line of questioning.

“What if I told you it was your wife?” Marco asked.

“I’m afraid Orabell has always had a jealous streak.” Halston shook his head sadly. “Please believe me when I say I’ve never given her any reason for it, yet she persists in her belief that I’m on the hunt. You’d think by
her age she’d have outgrown such nonsense, but there it is. She can’t seem to shake her insecurity, even though I try continuously to reassure her.”

“Tell me about the situation with your wife’s watch,” Marco said.

“The Piaget that Orabell claims Lily stole?” Halston sat forward and said discreetly, “Let me assure you that I don’t believe Lily would have taken Orabell’s timepiece. She’s one hundred percent professional.”

“Then why would Orabell make that claim?” I asked.

Halston sighed. “I wish I could give you a definitive answer.”

“Why can’t you?” Marco asked.

Halston pondered for a long moment, as though torn between telling the truth and protecting his wife. “Because I’m a loyal husband. All I can say is that Orabell has her own reasons for believing as she does.”

“And you don’t know what those reasons are?” I asked.

“I haven’t asked and don’t intend to bring up the subject.”

“What do you think happened to the Piaget?” Marco asked.

“Misplaced, most likely. It’s happened before is all I’ll say.”

“With her timepieces?” I asked.

“She takes them off before she goes outside to sun, swim, or work on her plant collection and then forgets where she puts them. As I said, it’s happened before.”

“Has she then recovered them?” Marco asked.

“Sadly, no.”

“Do you use a cleaning service?” I asked.

“We do, and that’s Orabell’s department. Currently, she’s trying out several new services to find one she likes.” As though picking up on my thoughts, Halston
added, “I agree that thievery among cleaning staff is a problem, but once again I must tell you that she’s misplaced timepieces before. So”—he rubbed his palms together, as though eager to move on—“shall we get back to the main concern? Melissa?”

For some reason my inner antennae were waving. Something Halston said wasn’t sitting well with me. Was it that the watches should have turned up when the house was cleaned? Was it his eagerness to get off the subject of the missing Piaget? I made a note to mention it to Marco.

“Where do you think Melissa is?” Marco asked.

“Tahiti, I hope,” Halston said. “Living it up. Life is too short to waste mourning a failed relationship.”

Hearing a door open, I turned to see Orabell and Jillian come inside. Orabell carried her martini glass in one hand while clinging to Jillian’s arm with the other.

“Ah! Here come my rescuers,” Halston said, donning his party-animal persona. “Mummy, did you bring my ’tini by any chance?”

“It was all I could do to carry mine, Halston,” she said crossly. “You’ll have to get it yourself. I’m leading a tour at the moment.”

“Would you mind if I repaired to the bar?” Halston asked Marco. “I’m really quite dry.”

“Not at all,” Marco said, rising. “Thank you for your time.”

“
Halston
,” Orabell snapped, as her husband strode out the door, “don’t leave it open!” She sighed loudly. “And there he goes without remembering to shut it. What an old fool.”

An old fool who loved her more than she deserved.

“Orabell is going to show me the house,” Jillian announced.

“You come, too, Debby,” Orabell said to me, nearly
tripping on the edge of the sisal rug as they passed by. “The more the merri—”

At a sudden shout of “Where’s Lily?” I turned to see Jake standing in the open doorway, looking at us as though he wanted to throw a hard punch.

Jillian gasped, and I glanced around to see her staring down at her sandals, which were now wet with the remains of Orabell’s martini.

J
ake was red in the face as he glared at us. “Where is my wife!” he demanded, clenching his fists. “She said she’d be here.”

“Take it easy, man,” Marco said in a calm voice, easing in front of me. “Your wife’s not inside the house, but we’ll be glad to help you look for her.”

Clearly undisturbed by Jake’s wild-eyed glare, Orabell said with a scowl, “Oh, for pity’s sake, look what you did to Jillian’s sandals. One would think wild dogs were after you the way you barged in here, Jake. Next time use a civil tone. Jillian, darling, I’m so sorry! Take one of the guest towels in the powder room to dry your feet.”

“These are brand-new,” Jillian whimpered, near to tears.

“Come along, darling,” Orabell said to her. “We’ll make it all better. Jake, sit down over there at the table and behave yourself. Lily’s bound to show up eventually.” Weaving slightly, she deposited her martini glass on the kitchen counter and walked with Jillian up the hallway.

Like a scolded child, Jake pulled out a chair and slumped down in it. He was wearing white athletic shoes
and socks, navy biking shorts, and a navy and white tank top that was damp from sweat, as though he’d rushed right over as soon as his class had finished.

Taking pity on him, I said, “Lily told me earlier today that she was going back to the bistro. Did you check there?”

“She said to meet her here, dammit!” He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like
the witch
, although I had a feeling he wasn’t being quite so generous.

“We finished her interview,” Marco said. “Maybe she felt there was no reason to stay if she had something to do at her restaurant.”

“No reason to stay?” Jake asked sarcastically. “Why? Did Pryce leave?”

Yikes. Sounded like Jake had heard those rumors after all. “Pryce is on the patio,” I said, walking over to the windows to check. But Pryce was nowhere to be seen, so I returned to the table and sat down without commenting on it. “I’m sure Lily will be back soon. You and she are still staying at the Osborne cottage, right?”

Jake dropped his head back and covered his eyes with his palms. “Yeah, we’re still there.”

I could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t happy about it. I raised my eyebrows at Marco. His reply was to tilt his head a fraction, as though to say,
Leave it alone.

“Would you like to get something to drink before we start your interview?” Marco asked.

Jake sat upright, placing his hands on the edge of the table. “No, let’s just do this. What do you need to know?”

“To start with, when was the last time you saw Melissa?” Marco asked.

“Sunday morning.”

“What was she doing?” Marco asked.

“Having breakfast.”

“With you?”

Jake’s knee was bouncing a mile a minute. “I’d already eaten.”

“But she was with you at your table, correct?” Marco asked.

“Uh, yeah. Correct.”

“Were you alone otherwise?” Marco asked.

“Well, Melissa was there.”

Definitely not the sharpest knife in the block.

“What was her mood?”

“Pissed.”

“Why?”

Jake threw himself against the back of the chair. “Are you kidding me? ’Cause that jackass pulled the plug on their wedding, that’s why.”

Wow. Quite a violent reaction to a simple question.

“Is this the same jackass who invited you to stay at his cottage while your house is being redone?” I asked, not that I felt the need to defend Pryce, but Jake’s lack of gratitude annoyed me.

Jake scoffed, as though he couldn’t believe what I’d said. “Inviting guests to stay at his cottage doesn’t stop Pryce from being a jackass.”

He had a point.

“Besides,” Jake said, his lip curling in distaste, “Pryce invited Lily. I just get to tag along with her.”

“Did Melissa talk to you Sunday morning about her broken engagement?” Marco asked.

“You mean like when we were all together or what?”

“When she had breakfast at your table,” Marco said.

“Yeah, she talked about it.”

“What did she talk about?” I asked.

“She was mostly complaining about having to return her wedding dress and send out notices to cancel
the wedding.” He shrugged. “You know, that kind of stuff.”

Yep. Knew all too well about that kind of
stuff
.

“Did Melissa mention anything about taking a trip?” Marco asked.

“I don’t remember her saying anything about a trip, but I kind of tuned her out after a while. You know how women get. Blah, blah, blah, until you want to stick your fingers in your ears.”

Or in Jake’s case, an electrical outlet would work.

“Where do you think Melissa is?” Marco asked.

“Man, I don’t have a clue. Not a single clue. I wish I did know, ’cause I don’t want nothing bad happening to her.” Jake rubbed his knees with his palms, as though nervous. “I mean, it’s bad enough what that jackass did to break her heart. When someone makes a promise, he should keep it, you know what I’m saying? A promise is a promise. A vow is a vow. It shouldn’t be tossed away because of someone else coming into the picture.”

“Do you think Pryce broke the engagement because of someone else?” Marco asked.

“I don’t know,” Jake said, “but I sure would like to find out.”

“Why?” Marco asked.

“You know”—he rubbed his knees harder—“because I feel sorry for Melissa.”

I had a hunch Jake felt sorrier for himself than for Melissa. There was no doubt in my mind that Jake suspected Lily was the
someone else
in the picture. What had really caught my attention, though, was how Jake claimed not to know where Melissa was. I kept remembering Grace’s Shakespearean quote about someone protesting too much.

“Maybe Lily can tell you more,” Jake said, “if you can find her. Are we done yet?”

I could tell by the watchful expression on Marco’s face that Jake’s behavior was raising red flags. “You don’t think we’ll find Lily at Beached?”

“Does it matter what I think?”

“The way you said it made me wonder,” Marco said.

“Sure. You’ll find her there. Whatever. Look, man, I thought you wanted to know about Melissa, not my marriage. So here’s what I know about Melissa. Pryce pulled the plug, and now she’s gone. End of story. See you around.”

Jake got up and strode toward the French door, shutting it with a bang.

“I guess we’re done.” I tucked the pen and notebook in my purse and put the strap over my shoulder to stand up. “He was so on edge, he made
me
jittery.”

Marco had a pensive look on his face as he walked over to the window to watch Jake. “He acted like he was in a big rush to get somewhere, and yet now he’s camped out on the deck with a beer.”

“Maybe his rush was getting out of answering any more questions. I’m surprised he didn’t head to the restaurant to find Lily. For her sake, I hope she doesn’t show up here with Pryce, because Jake clearly has a major jealousy issue with him.”

“Everyone in this group has issues,” Marco said, putting an arm around me. “I don’t understand what holds them together. They don’t seem to like or trust each other.”

“From what Jillian told me, investment money holds them together. Did you catch how vociferously he claimed not to know where Melissa is?”

“I caught it. I didn’t feel the time was right to pursue it, but it did make me wonder.”

“I’ll put an asterisk beside it in my notes.”

Marco pulled me close. “What do you say we head home? It’s been a long day.”

“Not too long, I hope, because there’s the little matter of a foot massage you owe me.”

When we stepped onto the deck a few minutes later, Claymore and Halston were engaged in a lively dialogue.

“Come join us, you two,” Halston called. “We were just discussing the play
The Iceman Cometh
.”

Jake caught sight of us and immediately moved to the wooden railing to stare down at the shoreline. I glanced at Marco and saw him taking it in.

“We just stopped to say good-bye,” Marco said.

“Surely you’re not leaving without trying a cocotini,” Halston said. “You can’t still be on the clock.”

“Oh, Halston, let these poor people leave,” Orabell said, as she and Jillian stepped outside to join us. “They have more exciting things to do than to keep us company.”

“Not Abby,” Jillian said, carrying her sandals. “She is absolutimently boring.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Fish eyes, Jillian.”

“Stop that,” she said, making fists, as though willing away the nausea.

“Fish
eggs
, do you mean?” Halston asked. “I’ve got an unopened jar of caviar in the fridge. Let me get them for you. They’re outstanding on pita chips.”

Jillian pivoted and ran inside, one hand over her mouth. Everyone watched her leave; then Halston said with a sigh, “Forgot the gal doesn’t like caviar.”

“Be more considerate next time, Halston,” Orabell said crossly.

“Poor Jillian,” Claymore said with a sigh. “She never has taken a liking to caviar.”