Nipped in the Bud (17 page)

“Great, they fired me.” I let my arms and my dreams fall and trudged toward my bedroom, intent on sinking into my comfy bed and forgetting about my problems with a Nancy Drew book. I had no choice. I had to escape into a book to forget about this situation. I couldn’t constantly live with the rollercoaster emotions of the last two days.

I had enough of that life when I turned ten and my dad died unexpectedly. After an unsettling year of ups and downs, I sat myself down and resolved to keep things under control from that day forward. For the most part, I had.

The craziest thing I’d done since then was to open The Garden Gate. Look where that had gotten me—out on a ledge, ready to plunge into the abyss. No way I’d listen to Adam and let someone else be in charge of this investigation. Controlling my life kept me safe. Let me sleep at night. If that meant Adam moved on after this was all over, so be it. I would, as usual, be in charge of my life, and everything would be fine.

“This is Tim
Needlemeyer
, host of Success Serendipity Style, inviting you to attend Pickle Fest right here in Serendipity this weekend. You won’t want to miss the exciting events we have planned, starting on Friday at eight with our kickoff, an accordion concert by our own Serendipity Squeezers. Be sure to
squeeeze
this event into your schedule. Get it, squeeze? Ah, c’mon, it was funny. Okay, well, be sure to bring the kids on Saturday as we have found a wonderful replacement for Greg. Briny, the world’s one and only pickle mascot, will be there to join in all the fun and games.”

“Now we return to the locally acclaimed show,
Through the Garden Gate
with host Paige Turner.”

Today was a new day, and I’d adopted a new attitude. I pummeled myself with positive thinking as I dressed this morning and all the way to the radio show, which had for once gone smoothly. No thanks to Lisa, I might add. She was distracted and living in another world.

“We’re back in five.” Her gloomy tone droned through my headset. “Only enough time left for this caller. Make it short.”

What was going on with her? She sat back and picked at her fingernails, the same distressed expression on her face that she’d worn the entire morning. She didn’t appear to be tired, so what was fueling this attitude?

In a break, I’d tried to get her to spill the details of what was bothering her. Instead, she snapped at me, went into her booth, and shut the door with a leave-me-alone thump. Her girls were gaga over Briny, and one would think Tim’s announcement that Briny would definitely appear at Pickle Fest would brighten her day. Instead, without bothering to look at me, she signaled the caller was on the line.

Fine.
Maybe the caller would be more enthusiastic. “Go ahead, you’re on the air.”

“Is this that
Through the Garden Gate
show?” The deep and angry male voice boomed into my headset.

“Yes it is, caller, and you’re talking live with Paige Turner, the host.”

“Well, Miss Paige Turner, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

What now? I held my hands palms up and quickly cut my eyes toward Lisa, hoping she might hold up the board explaining the caller. She looked so distracted it was amazing the caller even got on the air.

I had to make do without her. “Caller, would you please identify yourself?”

“This is Earl. My wife, I think she goes by the crazy name of Weed Whacker, said you wanted to talk to me.”

He was alive.
“Oh yes, great, thank you for calling, Earl.”

“I don’t know what you could want with me. I hate gardening.”

“I just wanted to find out if everything is okay at your house. You know, between the two of you.”

A long moment of silence filled the line. “What’s it to you?”

Excuse me for wanting to make sure you’re aliv
e. “I don’t mean to pry, Earl. I like to take a personal interest in my callers, that’s all.”

“Guess I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, but I’m
gettin
’ sick and tired of my wife yammering on about how wonderful you are. Don’t know what you’ve done to her. Since she discovered your show, all she wants to do is dig in the dirt.”

His praise, though roundabout, brought out a big ole smile on my face. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“Hah! Shows what you know. If you were in a sinking boat with me and her, she’d probably save you first.”

Sounded like I had my first groupie in Weed Whacker.
I cut my eyes to Lisa, who was sticking her finger in her mouth and fake gagging. She reminded me of the herbicide threat.

I turned back to the
mic
. “Thank you for the compliments, Earl. By the way, I was wondering if there were any signs of excess herbicide being sprayed around your
place?
”

“Herbicide?
Nah, my wife said she was
gonna
start trying that organic way of gardening she heard about on one of your shows. Only thing I smell around here is the new cologne she gave me. If I didn’t love the woman so much I wouldn’t spray it on every morning when she asks me to. It smells as bad as some of those garden chemicals she used to use.”

Cologne
that smells like herbicide?
Was Weed Whacker really poisoning him?

Lisa knocked on the glass and gave me a double slash across the throat, which meant wrap things up and do so in less than fifteen seconds.

“That’s all the time we have for today, folks. Earl, please stay on the line, and for the rest of our listeners, keep your radio on for the Farm to Market Report and
Success Serendipity Style
. Until tomorrow, this is Paige Turner, signing off.”

I flipped on the Farm to Market Report and picked up the phone. “Thanks for waiting, Earl. I’m curious about the brand of your new cologne.”

“Don’t know.
Doesn’t have a label.
The wife
musta
gotten it at one o’ them outlet stores she’s always
goin
’ to. They don’t label everything.” A short beep traveled over the line. “That’s my call waiting. I
gotta
go.”

“Wait, Earl,” I said.

Silence.

“Earl, are you still there?”

More silence.

Oh, well. I didn’t really think Weed Whacker was poisoning him. I hung up the phone and went straight to Lisa’s booth to see if I could uncover the reason behind her mood. “What’s up with you? You’ve been distracted all morning. And don’t say
nothing
, ’cause I know you’re worried about something.”

Lisa looked up, her eyes vacant. “Have you ever bought anything from the boutique section of
Uma’s
shop?”

All this
funk was over clothes? And
Uma’s
clothes no less? This was Lisa, the prim and proper mother, asking about purchasing provocative clothes and thinking I might have already done so. She was so far off base. I rarely bought anything feminine, let alone something from flashy
Uma
.

I opened my mouth to offer a smart reply, but Lisa’s vulnerable expression stopped me cold. She was serious about this. Why, I didn’t know, but I had to tread lightly. “
Uma’s
things aren’t really my style. Why do you ask?”

She looked at her nails and picked the pinkie with only a spot of pink polish left on it.
“No reason, really.
I just wondered what you thought of her stuff.”

“C’mon, Lisa, you’d never ask something like that without a reason.”

“Well, I did, okay?” She jumped to her feet and grabbed her handbag. “No need to grill me about it.”

Fearing she might gore me like a bull, I stepped out of her way. “Okay, okay. I just thought with the way you’ve been acting today, there was something you wanted to talk about.”

“Well, there isn’t.” She headed for the door.

If I couldn’t find out what was ailing her, maybe I could distract her. I followed her into the hall and changed the subject. “Wasn’t that weird what Earl was saying about Weed Whacker saving me over him? He seems awful paranoid.”

Lisa shrugged. “Either that or she has a weird stalker kind of thing for you. You know, like big-time celebrities sometimes get.”

My eyes flashed open. “Seriously, you think it’s that bad?”

She laughed for the first time that morning. “She does call into the show all the time. Then there was that direct call yesterday.”

I grabbed Lisa’s arm and turned her to face me. “Do you really think she’s a stalker?”

Lisa shook her head. “Nah, it’s probably nothing to worry about.” Her words said no, but her eyes said maybe.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“As sure as I can be.”
She turned and headed for the exit.

I traipsed behind with an unease settling over me. A stalker was all I needed right now. What if Weed Whacker did something dumb and jeopardized my show?
A show that was already on thin ice with Roger.
Wait, Roger. I should check in with him.

I jerked my thumb toward the open doorway on my right. “I’m
gonna
stop at Roger’s office to see if he listened to the show. I want to make sure he heard there wasn’t even a hint of the word murder this morning.”

Once again, in whatever world Lisa had been living in since she’d arrived, she waved a hand. “Fine, I’ll see you later.”

I paused outside Roger’s door and waited until Lisa stepped outside, letting the sun drift into the hallway as she exited. Maybe the sun’s bright rays would wash out her mood. I wished I could figure her out, but whatever was going on with her would remain as elusive as Bud’s killer for now.

I peeked into Roger’s office. Drat. It was empty. I wanted to talk with him, but I really needed to get to the shop to create dazzling containers to sell at the Pickle Fest on Friday. That is, if the shipment that went AWOL yesterday arrived. Even with Hazel’s help, that project would take the remainder of the day.

Resolved to put the mystery behind for now and head to the shop, I jumped in my truck. Outside the drugstore, I spotted Charlie entering the building, and my resolve vanished as quickly as it had arrived. I glanced at my watch. Ten fifty-five. I could make a quick detour to see Charlie. Even if Kurt was on time, he had to unload the containers.

I swung into an angled parking space in front of the drugstore and jumped from my truck with renewed vigor. This interrogation would end with important information revealed. It just had to. Inside, I found Charlie rounding the pharmacy counter, ready to disappear into the back room.

“Charlie, hey, Charlie,” I called and rushed forward. “You got a minute?”

He turned and gave me an impatient stare.
“A minute.
That’s all I’ve got. What do you need?”

I decided to be as blunt as he usually was and hope for the best. “Remember in the park on Monday when you threatened to reveal Bud’s secret? What kind of secret did Bud have?”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “That’s personal information.”

Blunt did not work.
Time for the sneaky underhanded approach.
“Okay,” I said and nodded as if I planned to follow his wishes. “I understand you might want to keep that quiet out of respect for Bud, but you were so mad at him. Were you ever able to talk to him again?”

“If you’re hinting that I found
Picklemann
in the park later and killed him, you’re sadly mistaken.” His eyes bored into me.

I wanted to squirm but forced my shoulders back. “So you didn’t get to resolve your problem, then? That’s too bad. Maybe if you tell me what you were so angry about I could help.”

“Young lady, didn’t anyone teach you any manners?”

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“This is none of your business.”

I held up my hands. “Okay, okay, don’t get so mad. I’m just trying to help. I suppose you have been able to talk with Rachel since then. I mean the two of you were going at it that day, too. Was it about the same thing?”

He answered me with crossed arms and a glare.

“No, huh?
That’s too bad.
Must be hard carrying that secret around.
Stressful, if you ask me. Especially when you’re already upset over that
Leever
company
putting pressure on you to sell your land.”

“We’re done here.” The muscles in his jaw worked overtime as he took a step away.

“But Charlie, I’m only trying to help find out who killed Bud.”

Charlie spun around, his rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the floor. “I don’t think you honestly care about who killed
Picklemann
. You just want to clear your name. I’ve already told Chief Lawson everything I think he needs to know. If he decides it’s relevant, he’ll deal with it.”

So much for trying to be Mister Nice Guy,
er
, Girl.
I crossed my arms. “You’re just like the rest of the people around here. You think I killed him, don’t you?”