Nightshade on Elm Street: A Flower Shop Mystery (20 page)

I
glanced at Marco in surprise.
Melissa is alive!

“Where on earth have you been?” Jillian demanded, standing with her hands on her hips, giving the prodigal ex-fiancée a once-over. She took in Melissa’s choice of clothing and gave a shudder.

“I had to get away for a while,” Melissa said, as if pulling a disappearing act was no big deal. She caught sight of the activity on the beach and walked toward the railing for a better look. “What’s going on down there?”

“A woman drowned this morning,” Halston said, his teeth clenched even tighter than usual. “We thought it was you, didn’t we, Mummy?”

Orabell stood up, swaying slightly, and pointed a shaky finger at Melissa. “Yes, we thought it was
you
.” She muttered something afterward that sounded like “You ingrate” as she tottered toward the bar.

“Why did you scare us like that?” Jillian demanded.

“Scare
you
?” Melissa said with a sarcastic laugh. “As if you cared enough about anyone but yourself to be scared, Jillian.” Holding out her arms, Melissa said, “Take a look, everyone. As you can see, it’s not me down there, although I imagine a couple of you were wishing otherwise.”

I checked Halston’s and Orabell’s faces to see their reactions, but neither impressed me as feeling ashamed or guilty. Jillian just looked hurt. Melissa strutted over to the portable bar and scanned the liquor bottles on the shelves below. She didn’t even seem curious about who the victim might be. Then again, she was probably feeling like a victim herself. I’d been in her shoes and remembered exactly what she was going through—an emotional roller coaster, up one moment and down the next. It hadn’t been easy to get my life back on track, and I knew the same would hold true for Melissa.

Still, my inner antennae quivered a warning that something other than a broken engagement was on Melissa’s mind. I glanced at Marco and found him observing Melissa, too, as though he shared my thoughts.

“Why didn’t you let one of us know where you were, gal?” Halston said loudly. “Had us all concerned.”

“Didn’t give us a thought, I’m sure,” Orabell added, sniffing contemptuously. “Doesn’t care a whit about our distress.”

Jillian started to chime in, but before she could speak, Melissa swung on Orabell, her fingers curling into fists. “I’m
sorry
if I caused you
distress
, Orabell, but I had a lot on my mind, so forgive me for being so inconsiderate of your feelings.” Then she burst into tears and turned away, covering her face with her hands.

Orabell fluttered a hand at her husband. “Don’t sit there like a lump, Halston. Pour the girl a martini. That’ll fix her right up.” With a huff, she returned to the bench and smoothed the dress around her legs.

“How about a margarita instead, gal?” Halston asked. “’Fraid my cocotinis are running low and Pryce’s martini fixins ain’t what they should be. There’s a bottle of fine rum here if you prefer a stronger drink. That’ll put some starch in your shorts.”

“It’s not rum that starches the shorts, Halston,” Orabell said snidely. “It’s whiskey.”

“Doesn’t matter which it is,” Halston said, giving her a glare so subtle I would have missed it if I’d blinked. He handed a full glass of rum to Melissa. “Here, gal. You’ll feel better afterward. Take my word on it.”

Melissa took it with an uncalled-for flirtatious smile. “Thank you, Hals. I’ll need this before I face Pryce again.”

Jillian looked stunned, and Halston quietly withdrew, while Orabell went on the attack, asking accusingly, “Why do you have to face him? Your engagement is over.”

Melissa turned on her, giving her a fierce glare. “So just like that”—she snapped her fingers—“it’s over, Orabell? What do you know about what I’m going through? Have you ever been stomped on by your husband? Because that’s what Pryce did to me. He stomped on my heart.”

I glared at Orabell, too, for her insensitive comments. Oh, man, did I know what being stomped on felt like. Despite my initial wariness, I empathized with Melissa.

“Then why’d you come back?” Orabell fired back. “What’s the purpose in belaboring the point? You think we’re going to convince Pryce to take you back when it’d be best for everyone involved if you moved on—as far away as possible?”

Jillian let out a small gasp of surprise, while everyone else waited for Melissa’s reaction.

“You don’t know anything about what’s best for Pryce and me!” she cried, then took a drink and looked around. “Where’s Pryce? We need to talk.”

“He’s in the cottage,” I told her. “I’m surprised you didn’t see him when you came through.”

“And who are you?” Melissa asked.

I walked toward her and held out my hand, which she didn’t shake. “I’m Abby Knight and this is my fiancé, Marco Salvare. You probably don’t remember, but we met once at the country club.”

She looked me over, and suddenly her eyes narrowed into icy slits. “You’re Abigail?”

“Yes, but I prefer Abby. I own Bloomers Flower Shop, on the square.”

“I knew I’d seen you somewhere before. You were engaged to Pryce before I was.”

“That’s right.”

Rather than realizing we had something in common, Melissa reacted as though I were a threat. She swept her bangs out of her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Pryce hired us,” Marco said evenly, drawing her eye.

“And you are?” Melissa asked, ignoring my earlier introduction, her tone softening as she absorbed Marco’s attractiveness.

“Marco Salvare. I’m a private investigator.”

Melissa’s eyes narrowed. “What are you investigating?”

“Your whereabouts,” Marco replied.

At once, Melissa seemed to relax. With a fey smile, she said, “So Pryce actually hired an investigator to find me.”

By her expression, I could tell this was good news. Melissa walked over to the railing on the other side of the bar and turned her back on the beach. A flicker of a smile played across her face as she sipped her rum. “What do you know, Orabell? Maybe Pryce cares after all.” She made a sweeping gesture with her drink. “My apologies for the worry, everyone. That was not my intention.”

Clearly her intention had been to make
Pryce
worry, and now that Melissa knew she’d succeeded, she seemed almost jubilant about it.

“Mystery’s solved,” Marco said quietly to me. “Pryce can take it from here. Let’s get you back to the flower shop.”

Leave before Pryce returns to find Melissa resurrected?
I wasn’t about to miss that. “Why don’t we wait until Pryce comes outside? You know. Just to be sure everything’s wrapped up.”

Marco wasn’t buying it. He leaned closer to say, “What is it that Grace always says about curiosity killing the cat?”

“Just another five minutes,” I said. “Pryce has to come out soon.”

“Unless he’s stamping the grapes to make the wine,” Marco grumbled, ready to be on his way.

“I could use more coffee,” I said to the group. “Anyone else want a cup?”

“I’ll have tea,” Jillian said. “One for Claymore, too. He should be here any minute now.”

“Here’s a better idea,” Halston said cheerfully. “Why don’t we all repair to my deck for some of my new Bon-tinis? I have a pitcher chilling in the Frigidaire.”

Didn’t these people believe in coffee in the morning?

“What’s a Bon-tini?” Jillian asked.

Halston rubbed his hands together. “Got the recipe from the owner of Belle Femme restaurant back in New Chapel. Interesting combination of flavors. Svedka Citron, Chambord, Triple Sec, Rose’s lime, and a splash of cranberry juice. Doesn’t it sound enticing?”

Jillian’s response was to cover her mouth and head for the sliding glass door.

“Ah,” Halston said. “Should have known beforehand that the gal doesn’t have a taste for martinis, right, Mummy?”

“Gal should speak up about what makes her sick,” Orabell said grumpily, rising. “We’re not mind readers.”

“Where you heading, Mummy?” Halston called, as Orabell navigated the steps.

“Where d’ya think?” she called back. “To get your silly pitcher of martinis.”

“A Bon-tini sounds delightful, Hals,” Melissa said, laying her hand on his arm in a way that seemed too familiar. It made me wonder if their relationship did go deeper than broker-client, as Orabell had claimed.

“Who do you think fell into the lake?” Melissa asked Halston. “Pryce’s mother, I hope?”

As they continued conversing quietly, I tugged Marco’s arm, leading him along the railing until we were closer to the house. “That was cold,” I said softly.

A voice near my ear made me jump.
“Exactement,”
Jillian said, her face still looking wan. “I remember very clearly that you were furious with Pryce for dumping you, but you never wished his mother any harm. But that’s because you’re a good person, and Melissa isn’t.” She shrugged.
“Chacun à son goût.”
For my benefit, she added in a whisper, “That means to each his own taste.”

“Seriously, Jillian?” I asked. “French now? And how did you get out here so quickly? I thought you were sick.”

“False alarm,” she said with a happy sigh. “But I still want that tea.”

Marco began to massage my neck, no doubt to remind me to relax my shoulders—or that he was ready to stop me if I tried to grab her by the throat.

“Remind me to tell you later about the new”—she whispered in my ear—“name I came up with, inspired by the British royal family.”

“Just tell me now and get it over with,” I said quietly.

“Not in front of”—she whispered in my ear—“Marco.”

“Whatever.”

Another whisper. “It’s Beatrice. Beatrice Osborne.”

“Initials, Jillian. B.O.”

My pale-faced cousin repeated the initials, then sank onto a chaise longue with a pout. “I’ll never come up with the right name.”

“A name, you say?” Halston asked, turning. “A name for what?”

Jillian’s response was to turn to me for help, so I blurted the first thought that came into my mind. “A horse.”

Jillian nodded at Halston. “A horse.”

Halston pondered it, sipping from his glass. “Pegasus would be a fine name, wouldn’t it?”

Jillian sat upright, her eyes brightening. “Pegasus…Peggy!”

I shook my head and she flopped back down again, laying her arm over her eyes.

“Come on, Jillian,” Melissa said, her lips quivering as she tried not to smile. “Pegasus would be a great name for your
horse
.”

I eyed Melissa skeptically. Had she guessed about Jillian’s pregnancy?

“A fine name,” Halston continued. “I won money on a horse by that name. Long time ago of course. Filly’s probably dead by now, but I’ll never forget it. Pegasus. Yes, ma’am. A fine name.”

“Weren’t you going to see about more coffee?” Marco said to me.

“And my tea,” Jillian found the strength to mutter.

“Hey!” someone called. “I didn’t know we were getting together today.”

I turned toward the glass door and saw Jake step out. He had on a pair of torn denim shorts with a white T-shirt and thick-soled canvas flip-flops, and his hair was sticking up as though he’d just tumbled out of bed.

“Did you guys know there’s a roadblock down the street?” he asked, looking puzzled.

Catching sight of Melissa, Jake stopped dead in his tracks. “Hey, Melissa! You’re…here!”

He seemed more shocked by Melissa being on Pryce’s deck than by her return from the dead. A quick look passed between the two of them as Jake added, “You’re okay!”

She held up her glass and said with a smile, “I’m okay now.”

“Awesome,” Jake said with what seemed to be forced cheerfulness, almost as though he was playing a role. I made a mental note to mention it to Marco.

Jake strode over to give Melissa a high five, then turned to gaze at us. “Where’s Pryce?”

“Pryce is inside,” Melissa said. “I haven’t seen him yet.”

“In case you’re wondering, Claymore is on his way,” Jillian said. “He had to go to the market to buy more organic eggs.”

“Where’s Lily?” Halston asked loudly, cupping one ear. “Didn’t she come with you?”

Jake gazed around at us, as though he’d missed her the first time, then said with a careless shrug, “I figured she’d be here with you guys.”

His behavior was a marked contrast to the way he’d burst into the Burches’ house the evening before. This time he didn’t seem at all upset by her absence.

“She must be at Beached,” Jillian said, “where she always is.”

“Where else would she be?” Orabell asked, climbing the steps with a green insulated pitcher in her hands. “Here’s your martini mix, Halston.”

“Why, thank you, Mummy,” he said, and rose to take it from her. “Think I’ll put it in Pryce’s fridge for now.”

“Not before you pour me one,” Orabell said, holding out her glass.

I rolled my eyes at Marco. The thought of a martini that early in the day was nauseating.

Jillian held her hand over her cell phone and whispered loudly, “Lily’s not at Beached. I’ve got one of her kitchen staff on the phone. She says Lily hasn’t been in yet this morning.”

“She might have gone to the hair salon,” Jake said. “I think I remember her mentioning an appointment.” Finally catching sight of all the flashing lights on the shore, he strode to the railing. “What happened down there?”

“A woman’s body washed up on the shore this morning,” Jillian said, putting away her phone.

“Wow. No kidding. I keep hearing how dangerous those riptides have been this summer.”

Marco’s gaze followed Jake as he left the railing and went up to Halston, who was standing beside Melissa. “What’cha drinking, Hals?” Jake asked, putting an arm around the older man’s shoulders and giving them a squeeze.

“Not tea, that’s for sure,” Jillian said, throwing me an accusing glance.

“A Bloody Mary,” Halston said lightly, though his jaws seemed more tightly clenched than usual. He inched away from Melissa and said with false cheer, “Orabell brought over a fresh pitcher of Bon-tinis, if you’re of a mind to try one.”

“Not for me, dude.” Keeping one eye on Halston, Jake moved back and flexed his biceps. “Don’t wanna drug my system or dull my mind.”

“Too bad, Jake,” Melissa said, holding up her nearly empty glass. “Alcohol works wonders on a broken heart.” She nodded to us, then to Jake. “Cheers.” Then
she downed the remainder of her rum and set the glass on the bar with a bang.