Nipped in the Bud (9 page)

“Spousal murder is often committed in a fit of rage over something personal,” Adam said. “Often doesn’t make sense to the outside world.”

“My point exactly.”
I slapped a high five with Adam.

Lisa waved us off. “I don’t think you should waste any time on Rachel unless something else points in her direction.”

Sadly, I kind of agreed with her, but I didn’t want to give in so easily. “I have to start looking somewhere. Unless I find a better suspect, I’ll go after her.”

“I—” Adam quickly glanced at Lisa, who nudged his elbow. “
We
think you should leave the investigation to a professional—hire a private investigator.”

What else had they had time to discuss while I was primping? I sat back and studied their faces. It looked as if they really thought I was in deep water. I wasn’t nearly that desperate. There was no deep water anywhere around me.
A puddle maybe, or a wading pool.
I was still breathing, and the water hadn’t even neared my knees. True, I’d just shed a few tears, but that was a weak moment brought on by Lisa’s overly emotional mothering.

I looked at Lisa then back at Adam with a purposeful stare. He came here to make sure we were on the same page. After the P.I. suggestion, it was obvious that we weren’t even in the same book. “I think we should check around ourselves. I can spend all my free time looking into this.”

“You don’t have any experience,” Lisa whined.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I followed the trail of a pretty killer mint plant until I found the source and eradicated it. How much harder could this be?”

“Paige, we’re serious.” Lisa crossed her arms.

“An investigator would be able to make faster progress,” Adam added.

“They cost money.
Money that I don’t have right now.
So no to the investigator.”

“Told you she’d say no right off the bat.”
Lisa’s tone was an exact imitation of her twins when they lost custody of one of their toys. “How are you
gonna
investigate this when Mitch locks you up?”

“
If
Mitch locks me up, I’ll think about hiring someone.” Wanting to end this discussion, I reached out and tapped her watch.
“Time to go.”
I stood and glared at my defecting friend. “Let’s get the show on the road so I can meet with Mitch.”

Lisa stood, came around the table with a solemn expression, and wrapped her arms around me. “I only want what’s best for you, you know?”

I pushed back and looked into her eyes. “I know, but next time, talk to me about it, not Adam.”

“Okay, but next time, you consider what I say and don’t dismiss it right away.” Lisa headed for the door before I could respond.

I wouldn’t dwell on it. My mind had returned to the upcoming meeting at the city hall.
The very meeting that could determine my future.

“This is Tim
Needlemeyer
, asking all the wonderful citizens of Serendipity to consider filling in for Greg Watson, aka.
Briny, who has suffered a most unfortunate accident resulting in a broken leg.
Briny will be unable to attend Pickle Fest unless we find a substitute, and we only have a few days to fill his pickle shoes. So please, stop by the HR department at Pacific Pickles to apply. We now return to our locally acclaimed show,
Through the Garden Gate
, with Paige Turner.”

Seated in the soft chair with a headset on, I tried to focus on the show that dragged along. The end of my hour loomed large. Depending on the upcoming caller’s chattiness, this might be our last call of the morning. Then the fun would begin.
The really big fun.
My meeting with Mitch.
The sooner I met with him and cleared my name the better my mood would be.

Head down, ear to the phone, Lisa positioned her fingers in our caller-on-the-line signal. She was supposed to find out the reason for the call and give me a heads-up, but once again, I was flying solo.

I put a smile in my voice and punched the blinking button. “This is Paige Turner. Go ahead, caller, you’re on
Through the Garden Gate.
”

“Hi, Paige, I just wanted to give you an update on things.”

Wait, I know that voice.
“Weed Whacker, is that you?”

“Ah, yeah, it’s me.”

I glanced at Lisa. Only the top of her head was visible. I guessed she let Weed Whacker through because she was a frequent flyer on our program.
“Welcome to the show again, Weed Whacker.
For those listeners tuning in for the first time, Weed Whacker is one of our regulars.”

“That’s right, listeners. I wouldn’t miss this show for anything. Paige gives the best advice.” She sounded like a used car salesman. “That’s one of the reasons I’m calling. I wanted to thank you for helping me yesterday. I feel much better.”

“Well, that’s certainly good to hear. Does this mean you worked things out with your husband?”

“Sort of, but we still have a few problems. I could really use your help again.”

I silently groaned. “Okay, Weed Whacker, what
gardening
question can I help you with?”

“I need to buy a shovel and was wondering if you would tell me how to choose one?”

“Oh, good question.” My tone was filled with relief—relief that she had moved back to needing real gardening advice I could easily provide. “When purchasing a shovel, make sure it has a solid blade, a comfortable handle, and a flat edge at the top of the blade for your foot. Most importantly—are you listening Weed Whacker?” I asked to make sure there were no future problems with giving her advice.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Most importantly you need to match the tool to the task you have in mind. A wide variety of shovels are sold today—ones for transplanting,
sawtooth
shovels for heavy or rocky soils, straight blades, curved blades, and on and on. What are you planning to do with the shovel you buy?”

“I have to dig a hole.
A big one.
About three by six and nearly six feet deep.”

Odd job.
“For a huge project like that I’d recommend renting a backhoe, not buying a—wait, why such a big hole? Weed Whacker did you use the herbicide even after I told you not to? Put your husband on the phone.”
Silence, deadly and long.
“Weed Whacker?
Weed Whacker? I need to speak to your husband.”

Bzz
…

“Well, listeners, Weed Whacker must have had a pressing engagement, as she’s hung up. Don’t worry, though. She’ll surely call back tomorrow.” I tried to telegraph concern with my eyes to Lisa. She held up a dry-erase board with P
olly in
P
ortland
written in blue marker. After that last call, I would have liked her to give me a subject as well. But, since Weed Whacker hung up so unexpectedly, Lisa must have had to push ahead.

I dug to the depths of my reserve left untouched by nutty callers and dredged up a cheerful tone. “Hello, Polly, this is Paige Turner on
Through the Garden Gate.
How can I help you?”

“Is it true, Paige?” Her tone was mixed with excitement and disbelief. “I heard on the local news that you killed a man with a shovel and buried him in some mulch.”

Not caring that I was on the air, I groaned and gave Lisa an evil glare. “No, Polly, I had nothing to do with killing him. I was simply the one who found him.”

“That’s not what
your
chief of police said in the interview. He said you were a person of interest in this case.”

“Again, not a suspect, Polly.”
I looked at Lisa who held up the board.
This time it said, 25
seconds.
Wing it
. I wanted to wing her all right, with a shotgun, but sat up straight and considered how to explain this situation to my listeners before Polly convinced them I was a murderer.

“I don’t know, Paige. That seems like a lame defense. Cops use the phrase ‘person of interest’ at first, and that person usually winds up being the killer.”

“Since you brought this up, I would like all my listeners to know I did not, nor would I ever kill anyone. I was—”

“Excuse me, but I think your listeners need to know you threatened the deceased not long before he ended up buried in the mulch.” Her voice had turned sharp and brassy. “You may not have gotten his head on a platter as you threatened. From what I heard, the police found it on your shovel.”

I rolled my eyes and spotted Lisa giving me the wrap-it-up signal.

“Please believe me when I say, I had nothing to do with Bud
Picklemann’s
death. Unfortunately, we’re out of time for an explanation.” I signed off and slammed my headset onto the counter. “Why did you let her through?” I shouted so loud Lisa must have heard me through the window.

She stood and opened the door between us. “Polly said she wanted to talk about gardening events in the news. How did I know she meant your gardening events in the news?”

The phone rang, and Lisa shot her hand out to answer. She was probably glad to do anything to avoid my wrath. My anger dissipated from the soft tone she’d used instead of yelling at me. As much as I wanted to keep screaming at her, she wasn’t to blame for my situation. She had done her job. The misguided caller was the only one who deserved my frustration.

Lisa put her hand over the receiver. “You’re not
gonna
believe this, but Weed Whacker’s on the phone. She says it’s urgent. I think you should talk to her.”

I took the phone, cupped my hand over the receiver, and gave Lisa a conciliatory smile. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It wasn’t your fault.”

She smiled back. “I’ll cut you some slack because of this whole murder thing, but don’t make it a habit.”

I had the feeling she might be cutting me
more slack
than she ever imagined over the next few days. I sighed and turned my attention to the coming conversation. “Weed Whacker, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, Paige, thank goodness you answered. I needed to make sure you were okay.” Her words gushed out like a frantic mother who’d found a lost child.

I glanced at Lisa to see if she was listening. She stared into the distance with a faraway look on her face. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I’m worried about the last caller. She seemed a little deranged.”

Seriously?
Look who claimed someone was deranged. “I don’t think she meant any real harm.”

“Well, I do. You need to be careful. She could have stirred up all kinds of nuts out there.”

I laughed off the chief nut job’s concern. “I appreciate your concern, Weed Whacker. I promise to be careful.”

“I mean it, Paige. Don’t just promise. Do it.”

I was getting uncomfortable with her passion.
Time to change the subject.
“Don’t worry.
Suppose you tell me why you’re digging that big hole.”

“
Uh.
. .no. . .
sorry
. I’ve
gotta
go. Earl’s calling me.”

The line went dead, and I handed the phone back. “She’s going to drive me crazy. At least it sounded like Earl was okay.”

Lisa hung up the handset. “That why she called?”

“No. You’re not
gonna
believe this. She thinks I’m in danger from Polly.”

“I didn’t get that vibe at all.”

“Me neither. If I needed to worry about anyone it would be Weed Whacker.” I laughed and glanced at the cute watering can-shaped clock on the wall. “Can you close up without me? Adam’s waiting.”

Lisa’s eyes
crinkled,
and she sent a warm smile my way. “Good luck, sweetie.” She yawned then wrapped her short arms as far around my shoulders as she could. “Everything is going to be okay. Wait and see. Remember to trust God to get you through this.”

As I headed down the hallway, I kept Lisa’s words in mind, actually deriving comfort from them. I could do that. It was simple. Just trust God to get me through this. No need to worry or fret. Everything was going to be okay.

“Paige.
A minute.”
The sharp tone of the station manager punched out of his office and broke through my peace.

I turned back and went through the open doorway. Roger Freund, one of the many city folks who had relocated to Serendipity, sat behind a slick glass and chrome desk with a warm smile planted on his square face. He wore his usual designer suit and crisp white shirt. Old enough to be my father, he looked about my age except for a few wrinkles by his eyes. Could be due to the moisturizer I caught him applying one morning, or because he was rarely seen outdoors.

“Paige,” he said, his smile disappearing, “I’m not sure what to do about your show.”

What did he mean? My show was great. I clasped the back of a black leather chair I’d seen in a furniture catalog. “I don’t understand, Roger. Is there something wrong with my show?”

He snapped forward in his high-backed chair. “Not until today. You’ve posted the best ratings of our local programs. Listeners love those crazy callers you and Lisa make up.”