Shear Murder (16 page)

Having called ahead, Marla got buzzed in by the guard. Then she wound down several streets before reaching her goal. The house turned out to be a two-story structure in a cul-de-sac facing a broad lake. She parked in the driveway of a multi-car garage, pausing a moment after turning off the ignition to admire the brick façade and sloped tile roof. More northern in flavor, the place distinguished itself from its hacienda-style neighbors.

Leanne answered the doorbell, smiling a genuine welcome.

“Marla, how nice of you to visit,” she said in her throaty tone. She wore a teal silk blouse, black slacks, and a jewel-studded belt. Her reddish-brown hair looked fluffed as though she'd blow-dried it that morning. Marla's glance dropped to her fingernails, perfectly manicured with coral polish.

I should look so put together when an unexpected visitor shows up,
she thought.

“Hi, Leanne, thanks for seeing me.”

“Come on in. Let's go into the living room. Carla,” she hollered, “my guest is here. Bring us some refreshments, please.”

An acknowledging cry came from what Marla surmised was the kitchen area. Shifting her purse, she followed Leanne into a high-ceilinged room decorated like a northwestern lodge. She couldn't help gaping at the stuffed animal heads on the walls.

“My, you have quite a collection.” She swallowed.

“Falcon enjoys hunting.” Leanne made a moue of distaste. “Me, I'm a member of PETA and I don't eat meat.”

Marla sat in a wing chair while Leanne dropped onto a faux suede couch. “You must have interesting dinner conversations,” Marla remarked.

“Not really. Cornelia doesn't support my views.”

“Cornelia? Isn't that Falcon's mother?”

Leanne didn't answer, tightening her lips when a maid shuffled in bearing a tray. The woman set her burden down on the coffee table, while Marla wondered if she could eat those cut sandwich triangles with a moose head staring at her from above.

“Care for some tea?” Leanne asked, lifting a fine china teapot. “It's lemon grass green tea, organic of course.”

“Yes, thanks.” Marla raised her teacup, yielding to hunger. She thought of the laden table at Arnie's house with regret. All that food would go to spoil if no one ate it.

She made small conversation while chewing on a couple of egg salad sandwiches. “I saw Jill earlier,” she said, after wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. Might as well cut to the quick. “She and Arnie are sitting shivah for three days.”

“How is she?” Leanne's eyes scrunched in sympathy.

Her makeup shone in the bright sunlight streaming in the windows. Blush highlighted her cheeks, a bit too rosy for Marla's taste. With her attractive features, Leanne could get by with a more subtle touch.

“Jill is managing,” Marla answered, “but she'd like to see the case solved, especially since her sister isn't the only victim.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hally Leeds was found dead this morning. You know, she's the reporter who worked with Torrie at
Boca Style Magazine.
”

“Oh, my God. No, that can't be true.” Leanne clapped a hand to her mouth.

“Maybe the killer thought Torrie had shared information with Hally. Why else would they both be murdered?”

Leanne's wide gaze looked like a deer in headlights. “It could be coincidence. I mean, they don't have any proof linking the two cases, do they?” Her hand trembled as she set her teacup and saucer down with a clatter.

“Probably it's too early to determine if there's a connection.” Clasping her hands together, Marla leaned forward. “Who do you think would have a reason to want them both dead?”

“How would I know? I mean, I can understand Scott wanting to get back at Torrie, or even Hally wanting her post, but this?”

Marla jumped at the opening. “Tell me about Scott. Was he aware that his wife was planning to leave him for Griff Beasley?”

Leanne's jaw dropped. “Where did you hear that?”

“From a private source.”

Leanne glanced over her shoulder, her expression guarded. “Griff worked with both women,” she said in a lowered voice. “You might want to talk to him about it.”

“That could be dangerous. Torrie knew something that he wanted kept underground, didn't she? Did she confide in you, Leanne?”

Her eyes bugged. “You're not implying that he—”

“I have no idea who killed them. That's for the police to determine. I'm just trying to get one step ahead so Jill can move on with her life.”

“She and Torrie disagreed on many issues,” Leanne stated. “Maybe Jill isn't as innocent as she claims. You might want to inquire into her past history before you jump to conclusions.”

“Why, do you know something about her that I don't?”

“It's not for me to say.” She glanced toward the entry.

“How about her Uncle Eddy? Did Torrie tell you about the property issue dividing the sisters? Their uncle is acting as attorney. I understand he was instrumental in your husband acquiring the land for Orchid Isle.”

Leanne leapt up. “If you want to talk to Falcon, he should be downstairs at any moment.”

“Do I hear my name mentioned?” The tall man sauntered into view, dressed in jeans and a sport shirt. His erect posture, confident air, and firm voice gave him an aura of power.

“Hello, Mr. Oakwood. It's nice to see you again.” Standing, Marla stretched out her hand.

He gave her a lukewarm shake and a false smile. “Likewise. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

“I have some sad news to impart. Hally Leeds is dead.”

“Who?”

“She's a reporter for
Boca Style Magazine
and a colleague of Torrie Miller's.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember. A redhead, right? She covered our grand opening.” He regarded her from behind his spectacles.

“She and her photographer, Griff Beasley, were there,” Marla reminded him.

“What terrible news. How did it happen?”

“I'm not sure exactly.” Marla watched him carefully. She'd learned from Dalton not to reveal too much information. “Her body was found in the parking lot where she worked.”

“So sad. I only met her that one time, but she did a nice piece on Orchid Isle.” He shook his head, his expression revealing nothing. If that's how he reacted to emotional events, Marla pitied his wife.

“Torrie must have spoken about her colleague to you, Leanne.”

Falcon shot a meaningful glance at Leanne, who stood primly by with her lips thinned. “My wife is still upset over Torrie's death. She has a delicate constitution. Like one of my orchids, heh heh.”

Marla gestured at the moose head. “I gather you like to hunt game as well as rare flowers.”

He stiffened. “It's a hobby. Now if you don't mind, Leanne should rest. Wouldn't want her lovely bloom to fade, you know.”

Clear on her dismissal, Marla wished she could linger to question Falcon about his orchid collections. Not that she would know the difference between an ordinary orchid and a valuable specimen. She should learn more about them.

“That's a lovely flower arrangement,” she commented on her way to the door. An accent table held a crystal vase with a fresh assortment of lilies and other exotics.

“Philip gets the credit,” Leanne remarked in a quiet voice. “He's amazing. The man can get me anything I want.”

Did Marla detect an innuendo in her tone? “He's very talented. I didn't realize he owns a nursery in Davie. He must have been a big help to you, Falcon, when you were drawing up the plans for Orchid Isle.”

Falcon's eyes grew wary. “He made it happen. What Phil can't get from his suppliers, he grows himself. Stop by the park again, when you have time to take a guided walking tour.”

“I realize the place hasn't been open long, but how is it doing? Are you getting a good crowd?”

Falcon squared his shoulders. “Yes, we are. Fortunately, the negative publicity over opening weekend didn't prove to be a deterrent. We've just opened up a new shop adjacent to one of the greenhouses where you can buy plants. Sales have been brisk.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” Marla shook their hands. “Thanks for seeing me, Leanne. I hope we'll run into each other again.”

As she drove away, Marla considered Falcon's attitude. He didn't welcome her intrusion, nor was he forthcoming with information. She also got the impression he dominated his wife. She'd like to learn more about Orchid Isle's background and Eddy Rhodes's involvement in the land acquisition.

Checking in with Dalton, she asked about his investigation but received a curt reply. “Can't talk about it now. What have you found out?”

“I think there's some funny business going on between Falcon, Philip, and maybe Jill's Uncle Eddy,” she concluded after describing her morning's excursions.

“You may be right.” His deep voice poured over her like warm molasses. “Where are you heading now?”

She stopped at a traffic light on Route 1. A local commuter train zoomed by on the elevated rail to her left. Hot pink bougainvillea climbed a residential fence on her right.

“I need to stop by the bridal shop to pick up my dress. Then I have an appointment with the builder to show him where I want the hardware on our kitchen cabinets.”

“Oh, yeah. Todd said the plumber is coming this week. Ask him if one of us has to be there.”

“Okay.” She hesitated. “If I have any free time, I'd like to learn more about orchids. I don't know enough about them to be able to distinguish between ordinary specimens and rarities.”

“What for? I hope you're not planning on snooping into any greenhouses or nurseries.”

“Who, me?” His words reminded her of Halley's office files and Griff's photos. She still had to find a way to get a sneak peek.

“Marla,” he began.

She laughed. “Don't worry. I'll behave.”
Yeah, right.

“By the way, I returned that faucet we bought for the guest bathroom. I decided I liked the first one we looked at better. This is your last chance to change any of the plumbing fixtures.”

“I'm okay with our selections so far. That's more your department.”

“No, it isn't. You're the one who insisted on having a separate spritzer for the kitchen sink.”

“That's because I'll be spending a lot of my time there.”

“And you won't be using the bathroom?”

She gripped the wheel tighter. “It really doesn't matter to me. What time should I expect you for dinner?”

He cleared his throat. “I've got to work late tonight, so don't count on me. I'll call you later. Love you.”

Marla clicked off her phone, eyes narrowed. First his obsession with home improvement stores, and now he was staying out late again. Last week she and Brie had eaten alone at least twice. True, Dalton could get crazy when he worked a case, but why did he have so many late nights now on top of everything else? Was he getting cold feet about their wedding?

Shrugging, she dismissed her concerns to plan the rest of her day. It was mere coincidence that at the bridal store, she overheard a woman talking about an orchid clinic being given that afternoon at a local park. And so she found herself, after stopping at her townhouse to drop off her wedding garments and to let Spooks out, at a classroom inside Secret Woods.

Marla hadn't been to the park hidden off old Route 84 in a while, but things remained the same from what she could tell. A few buildings in need of repairs housed a natural history display and park offices, plus the spare room for classes or social events. The faded boardwalk led toward a nature trail that branched in two directions.

She'd always favored the path on the left that wound along the mangrove wetlands to an overlook at the New River. She liked to look at the mansions with their private docks across the water and imagine what it would be like to live in a luxury home.

Too bad she couldn't take the time to relax, sit on a bench, and enjoy the view. Sniffing the earthy aroma of decaying leaves, she watched a raccoon survey her then scurry away into the woods. Not wishing to encounter any more wildlife, she entered the designated building and took a seat.

The room wasn't filled by any means. Two young women with notebooks, several retirees, a thin young man wearing glasses, and a jogger who'd come in for a rest occupied the other chairs.

A middle-aged woman strode in the door. She had graying temples on her jet black hair, a purposeful expression, and a pile of handouts, which she promptly distributed.

“Welcome to our Introduction to Orchids class,” she said, facing the assemblage. “I'm your instructor, Diane Potts.” She glanced at each one of them in turn. “How many of you are here because you'd like to learn more about orchids and how to take care of them?”

Everyone raised their hands.

“Good. Now how many of you've had experience cultivating your own blooms?”

The two young women plus one of the older couples responded.

“Very well. I'm going to give you an overview on what you'll need to know to get started. Usually, people gain an interest in orchid growing by going to an orchid show with a friend or by receiving a blooming plant as a gift and wondering how to take care of it. Then the bug bites, and you're hooked.”

Not me, pal.
Marla had received an orchid as a gift once and had killed it. Nothing green survived her black thumb. Dalton had better guard his tomato plants against her influence.

“Let's discuss the most common types of orchids people grow. You'll be most familiar with
Cattleyas,
the kind you see in corsages.
Phalaenopsis
are delicately pretty moth orchids.
Dendrobiums
are long spikes of smaller flowers.
Vandas
are popular for their vibrant colors, and there are thousands more. It could take you years to study them. The orchid societies offer workshops, or you can attend various shows. There are lots of opportunities to create a new and absorbing hobby.”

Marla raised her hand. “Isn't vanilla the only edible fruit of the orchid family?” She remembered her conversations on board the
Tropical Sun
with the French countess, a vanilla grower from Mexico.

“That's correct, although vanilla requires a tropical climate and the proper soil. It's a very valuable crop.”