Nightshade on Elm Street: A Flower Shop Mystery (34 page)

“
H
alston
gave you his wife’s Piaget?”

“He needed to pay me for my decorating services.”

“Do you expect the detectives to believe that Halston allowed his
wife
, as well as everyone else who was here last weekend, to believe that Lily took the watch, when actually he gave it to you as payment for decorating his house, when you didn’t even get the chance to decorate it?”

“I did decorate! I redid all three bedrooms and baths, which no one ever mentions. Orabell wouldn’t let me touch her family room, that’s all. Ask Halston if you don’t believe me. I couldn’t say anything because he begged me to be quiet about it.”

“Why?”

“Halston has been doing everything possible to pay off Orabell’s bills, while she spends like nobody’s business. The poor guy pawned his expensive watches, cuff links, and even his wedding band to keep them out of debt. He’s already taken out a second mortgage on his properties, sold his BMW, and bought a used SUV. All
they have left of any value is Orabell’s jewelry, and now he’s having to sneak that out, too.”

My second theory was starting to wobble. “Why should I believe you?”

“Go check their property records at the courthouse. You have connections on the police force, right? Have your sergeant buddy sneak a look at Halston’s bank records. Then you’ll see that I’m telling the truth.”

The wobble was getting bigger.

“Look, Abby, I know you don’t think much of me, but Halston has been a very good financial adviser. He knows how I’ve struggled to build up my business, and I’d hate to see him suffer just because he paid my bill with a watch, so please don’t say anything about Orabell’s Piaget, because I promise you, if Orabell finds out what Halston has been doing, she’ll make life even more miserable for him than she has already—if that’s possible.”

“Halston told you about his financial problems?”

“It sure wouldn’t have been Orabell. She wouldn’t tell me what day it is, and that’s not because of my decorating. Oh, yes, I know what’s being said about my talent. The truth is that Orabell doesn’t like me because she thinks I want her husband. She watches me like a hawk to make sure I don’t flirt with Halston.

“Frankly,” Melissa continued, “I’m worried about Halston. With all that debt hanging over his head, I don’t know what he’ll do to extricate himself, short of taking away Orabell’s credit cards and selling off the rest of her jewelry. He puts on a good front, but I know how worried he is. I’m just hoping he doesn’t do something stupid.”

“Like?”

“Like maybe kill himself for the insurance money.”

“Halston is a stockbroker, Melissa. He would know there’s no payout for suicide.”

“Well, then I hope they have friends who will take them in, because he’s just about out of options.”

Or—maybe not.

A new theory was forming.

“I’m going next door for a drink,” Melissa said.

“Okay, but before you go, I have to warn you that I will be telling Pryce what I saw here tonight.”

She paused at the sliding glass door, then slowly smiled. “No, you won’t. You were going to marry him for the same reason I am, and you don’t want me to tell him that.”

“What are you talking about?”

She folded her arms across her shirt. “I’m talking about you marrying him for his money.”

“That’s wrong! I thought I loved Pryce.”

“Right.” She gave me a wink, as though we shared a secret, then slipped through the sliding glass door and shut it behind her.

I turned away from the door. Melissa was so wrong. I remembered how the girls in my law classes were always talking about what a catch Pryce would make for some lucky woman, what a life of ease she’d have. Living in the lap of luxury, someone had called it. A fairy tale come true. A trophy wife, another had said. But that wasn’t me then. I’d never wanted to be a trophy.

A snippet of conversation came back to me:
Were you in love with Pryce back then?
Marco had asked.

No.

That was a quick response.

I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.
It took me a few months, but I realized finally that I was in love with the idea of marriage to Pryce.

The sound of a door slamming jolted me back to the present. Pryce was home, and I was in his house. Did I
really want to have to tell him about Melissa and Jake, or the note on my windshield? Did I really want to be alone with him?

No to all of the above. I closed the sliding glass door behind me, then hurried down the stairs to the pool area and took off across the sand to get to the Burches’.

“Well, look who finally showed up,” Jillian said, as I climbed the steps. “Where’s Marco?”

“He should be here anytime now,” I said.

My cousin and Claymore, Melissa, Jake, and Orabell were gathered on the deck. Claymore had a chair next to Jillian; Melissa and Jake sat on opposite sides of the deck, facing each other, while Orabell stood near the door.

Jillian patted the empty spot on the padded bench where she sat. “I saved you a seat.”

“Have some appetizers,” Orabell called, a martini glass in one hand. Clearly forgetting we’d parted on less-than-friendly terms, she gestured toward the table, where she’d set out nuts, chips, crackers, and wedges of cheese. “They’re just begging to be eaten.”

“Halston isn’t here yet?” I asked, dropping my purse beside the bench.

“We’re still waiting,” Jake said, taking a pull of his beer. He looked across the deck at Melissa and gave her a smile. Despite what she’d said about not loving him, I could see by the slight softening of her expression that she had a thing for Jake.

“Have you seen Pryce?” Melissa asked me, that sly smile still tugging at the corners of her mouth. “He texted that he’d be here shortly.”

“No, I haven’t seen Pryce, Melissa.”

Putting on an expression of concern, she rose. “That’s odd. He sent the message a while ago and said he’d be right here. I hope he’s all right. Maybe I should check on him…unless you want to, Abby.”

I gave her the barest hint of a scowl. “No, that’s okay. You go.”

“Claymore can go,” Jillian offered.

“I’m already up,” Melissa said, as she hurried away. “Be back in a while.”

“I’m hungry, Claymore,” Jillian said with a pout. “Would you be a darling and bring me some nibblies?”

Claymore jumped up from his chair and scurried to do her bidding.

“Anyone in the mood for one of Halston’s stupid cocotinis?” Orabell asked, weaving slightly as she stood. “He left a pitcher in the fridge. We might as well use it up. You’ll have one, won’t you, Annie?”

“I’ll stick with ginger ale,” Jillian said.

Claymore presented her with a plate filled with goodies. “Here you are, my love. Eat up.”

Jillian took one bite of cheese, chewed for a few moments; then her eyes widened. Jumping up from the bench, spilling the plate in the process, she covered her mouth and dashed inside the Burches’ cottage.

“Well,” Orabell said with a shrug, “that’s what happens when you’re expecting.”

Wait a minute! Orabell knew about Jillian?

“Yeah, I remember one of my girlfriends puking when she got knocked up,” Jake said, then burped.

Jake knew, too?

“My poor Jillian,” Claymore said, picking up the remains of her food. “She just can’t seem to get it through her gorgeous head that her morning sickness can last all day.”

“Is everyone in on the secret?” I asked.

“That Jillian’s preggers?” Orabell asked. “Well, of course we are.”

I was stunned. “How did you find out? She made me swear not to tell.”

“She did that with everyone,” Claymore said with a sigh. “My therapist said hormones were to blame. But please don’t let on that you know. Dr. Eggers said it’s better for her right now if she thinks she’s in control.” He got up and started toward the door. “I’d better say good night now and take my beloved home to rest.”

“And I’ll go get those martinis I promised,” Orabell said, making her way carefully across the deck.

“I’m sticking with beer, Orabell,” Jake said. “So what are you doing here, Abby?”

“Actually,” I said, “I’m working on my theory about who killed Lily.”

Jake’s arm froze, the bottle halfway to his mouth, while Orabell paused at the door to glance back at me. “You still want that ’tini, then?” she asked.

“Abby’s not working yet, so bring her one,” Jake said, then lifted the bottle toward me, as though toasting me. “We all need some downtime, right?”

“I’ll bring one for Mark, too,” Orabell said, then stepped inside and shut the door.

It was just Jake and me on the deck now, the perfect time to do a little questioning. “So,” I said to Jake, “remind me again of where you were the night Lily drowned.”

Jake’s smile dissolved, and in an annoyed voice, he said, “What happened to your downtime?”

“I’m always working. So where were you?”

“I was asleep at Pryce’s cottage.”

“What if I told you that I know where you really were?”

“So go ahead. Tell me. Make my day.”

“You were at the Sandman Motel.”

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye as he took another sip of beer. “With a friend,” I added.

Now I had his full attention. Jake put down his beer. “What if I told you that you were out of your freaking mind?”

I said quietly, “What if I told you Melissa said she was with you at the motel?”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about, lady. I was sitting right here on the deck having a drink with Halston, and then I went back to Pryce’s for the night. Ask Halston if you don’t believe me.”

“I would if I knew where he was, but he’s conveniently missing.”

“Don’t look at me,” Jake said, hoisting the bottle once again. “Ask his wife where he went.”

“Orabell doesn’t know either. She was out looking for him when I got here, which was during your little tryst with Melissa at Pryce’s cottage.”

“That’s it. I’m outta here.” He set his bottle down hard on the table beside his chair and stalked off the deck and down the steps, disappearing among the elms.

At that moment, Orabell came outside with a pitcher and three martini glasses on a tray.

“Where did Jake go?” She hiccuped loudly.

She was obviously on her way to sloshdom,
and thank you, Jillian, for putting that word into my vocabulary
. “Jake’s a little annoyed with me,” I said. “I was questioning him about Tuesday night and he didn’t seem to like it.”

“That’s Jake. Selfish, childish—
hic
—and immature. So what can you do? Shoot him? Anyway, I’m glad you decided to join us, Annie.” She made her way over to the portable bar and placed the tray on the counter. “I’ve got a drink here for Mark when he comes. You did say he was coming soon, right?”

“Right. Anytime now.” I didn’t even bother to correct her about the name. She wouldn’t remember it anyway.

She filled one of the glasses and carried it over to me. “For the life of me, I can’t imagine where Halston is.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the ice-cold drink. “Did you check the pier to see if your boat’s there?”

“That’s the first place I looked, because Halston’s silly fishing hat is gone.” She took the other glass, then lowered herself into a chair. “I don’t know what to make of his disappearance. I’m not sure whether to be angry or worried.”

I took a drink and tasted chocolate along with another flavor. Was it coconut? Whatever it was, I was thirsty enough to keep sipping.

“I guess I shouldn’t be too concerned,” Orabell said, adjusting her long skirt to cover her calves. “Halston’s always going over to clients’ houses in the evenings. Problem I have with that is, he’s a good-looking man, and there are a lot of money-hungry women out there who’d love to get their hands on him.” She took a swallow of martini. “And that includes Melissa. You saw how she flirted with Hals the other evening. She’s a gold digger, just like that Lily was.”

Except that Halston didn’t have any money, and Melissa knew it.

“Who do you think killed Lily?” Orabell asked.

Her question surprised me. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

“It’s not Halston, I hope.”

“I really can’t talk about it.”

Orabell studied me for a while, her eyes narrowed, as though she was working through a puzzle. Then she slapped her knee. “I know who you’re thinking. I heard you questioning him while I was inside. You’re a smart woman, Abby. That’s who I picked, too.”

She finally got my name right!

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, “guilty as sin. Doesn’t wait a week for his wife to be declared dead before he’s going after another woman. Shameful situation, just shameful. Doesn’t seem to care a fig what it looks like to others.

“Of course, the same could be said about Lily. She was as shameful as he is, married to one man, shacking
up with another, and trying to get her hooks in Halston. I know why she stole my Piaget. It’s because I raked her over the coals for flirting with my husband. Oh, yes, I caught her in the kitchen with Halston, the hussy. She didn’t like what I had to say, I can tell you that. And then my beautiful timepiece disappeared. Her revenge for being thwarted.

“So I told Lily, ‘Two can play at that game,’ and then I did all I could to embarrass her in front of the others. Did she give me back the Piaget? Not on your life. She already had Halston on her side, so she didn’t need to. Oh, he wouldn’t admit it, but did I have a bone to pick with him the next day. ‘Want to play the old fool?’ I asked him. ‘Tell Lily you’re leaving me for her and watch how fast she runs.’ Ha! Would he do it? No, the coward.”

Orabell rose and reached for the pitcher. “You’re in need of more cocotini. Have to say, Halston may have his faults, but he knows how to make a fine martini.”

While she refilled my glass, I turned to look out at the water to see if I could spot a motorboat, but because of the thick cloud cover, all I could see was inky blackness. My vision blurred slightly, so I shook my head to clear it and felt dizzy. I turned back toward Orabell and saw her start toward the house, weaving a little more than before.

“I need some crackers,” she said, her words slurring. “My stomach’s empty. Want some, too, Ag…gie? Boy, oh, boy, Halston made these ’tinis s-s-strong.”