Sleeping with Anemone (10 page)

“Chinn, Knowles, and Brown,” Morgan said.

“Wait a minute. Peter Chinn is the assistant city attorney. That’s a conflict of interest.”

“You’d think so,” Morgan said, “but it happens all the time. When that much money is involved, there are no conflicts. It’s all about influence, Abby.”

“Then why were other towns able to stop Uniworld?” I asked.

“My guess is that Uniworld was unprepared for attacks by interest groups. They probably thought they’d kept information about their hormone supplementation quiet, not realizing the information got out anyway. But that made Uniworld’s legal team shrewder. As a result, anyone who tries to stop them now is in a no-win situation.”

“Maybe you can help our cause, Greg,” Nikki suggested, entwining her arm with his.

He gazed at her fondly. “I wish I could, but I’m a law enforcement officer, and it’s not a criminal matter. I don’t have any expertise in civil law. The kidnapping, well, that’s a different story. Bringing these kidnappers to justice is what I do. And a word to the wise, Abby. If you keep fighting Uniworld, you can bet they’ll turn up the heat until you have no choice but to give up or risk losing everything. Are you willing to make that sacrifice for those cows?”

I sank into the chair in a fit of gloom. There had to be some way to fight back.

 

I was not in the best of moods the next morning as I slid into the passenger side of my car. Although I had the sexiest escort in town, I missed driving my Vette. I missed the feel of the steering wheel in my hands, the surge of its mighty engine under my feet. I also missed feeling safe in my own hometown. It made me all the more irate about Uniworld’s seemingly unlimited power and influence.

As I buckled myself in, my cell phone rang. At the same time, Marco’s began to chirp. He flipped his phone open and glanced at the screen. “It’s Reilly.”

My screen had Grace’s name on it. I glanced at Marco. “This isn’t good.”

“Abby, dear, there’s been a break-in,” Grace said. “I wanted to prepare you before you saw the police car out front. They’ve just now arrived, so I must go.”

“What did they take?” I asked, but she’d already ended the call.

Marco shut his phone and glanced my way. “Did you hear?”

Frowning, I leaned back against the headrest. “Grace told me there was a break-in.”

Marco reached over and gently squeezed my hand. I couldn’t even begin to voice my dismay, so I said nothing, only squeezed back. I feared Morgan’s prediction that Uniworld would turn up the heat had just begun to come true.

Marco pulled up behind the squad car and let me out. While he went to park the Vette, I hurried toward the yellow door, my stomach churning in dread. Through the sparkling new glass pane I could see Reilly talking to Grace and Lottie, and behind them, a cop taking photographs. With my heart in my throat, I stepped inside and gazed around in disbelief.

This wasn’t just a break-in. My beloved Bloomers had been thoroughly trashed. Fresh flowers lay broken and trampled amidst pieces of pottery, glass, and wax candles. Shelves were swept bare. Display cabinets were upended. My beautiful dieffenbachia were uprooted. Potting soil clumped messily all over the wood floor. Everything in the glass-fronted cooler was destroyed. Uniworld had turned up the heat all right.

The women had attempted to sweep up the mess, but must have stopped when the police arrived. Grace still had a dustpan in one hand and a broom in the other. Lottie clutched a paper bag full of broken merchandise. Feeling sick, I leaned against the door.

“Oh, sweetie,” Lottie said, and dropped her bag to come hug me. Grace headed for the parlor, no doubt to get me a cup of tea.

“Take a few deep breaths,” Lottie instructed. “It’ll clear your head.”

The bell jingled and Marco stepped inside, his jaw dropping as he glanced around.

“Did they wreck the other rooms?” I asked.

“The workroom,” Lottie said sadly.

My haven! Marco put his arms around me, holding me close as I fought back tears. “Want me to check out the damage?” he asked.

“Please,” I said. I waited until he’d gone through the curtain; then I turned to Reilly. “This is Uniworld’s doing, Reilly, and it has to stop!”

“Abby, I talked to Raand a half hour ago,” Reilly said. “He stated that Uniworld had nothing to do with the letters, the brick incident, the attempted carjacking, or the kidnapping.”

“And you believed him?”

“Raand is squeaky clean, Abby. No record whatsoever. More important, he threatened to sue the department and the town if we continue to harass him or Uniworld. So we’ll take fingerprints and see what other evidence we can find, but in the absence of any solid proof, I don’t know what more we can do.”

“Well, there’s something more I can do,” I said. “I’ll hold a press conference to let the public know what Uniworld has been doing to harass and intimidate me.”

“Abby,” Reilly said, “before you take that step—”

“Do
not
try to talk me out of it, Reilly. They can’t be allowed to pull this crap.”

“Sweetie,” Lottie said, “can I make a comment here? What if Uniworld isn’t behind the break-in? What if it was a plain ol’ robbery?”

“After everything else that’s happened?” I asked. “Isn’t that a little too coincidental?”

“Lottie,” Reilly said, “why did you mention robbery? Are you missing any cash?”

“No, thank the Lord, they didn’t find our cash,” she said. “I mentioned it because of what happened while Abby was at the Home and Garden Show Saturday morning. A UPS man came by asking for a package he claimed was delivered here by mistake. Thing was, he wasn’t our usual UPS man, and we haven’t had anybody else’s package delivered here. Plus he was looking around, nosy as all get-out.

“So I started asking questions, like how long he’d worked for UPS and where our regular guy was, making him as twitchy as a cat’s tail. When I asked where he left his van—you know how our guy leaves it at the mouth of the alley—he said he must have the wrong business, and took off. So now I’m wondering if he was casing the shop.”

Reilly looked pensive. “How old was he?”

“Maybe twenty, twenty-one,” Lottie said.

“There haven’t been any other robberies on the square recently,” Reilly said as Marco emerged from the workroom, “but businesses on the north side of town have had a string of break-ins, mostly smash-and-grabs for whatever cash they can find. We think it’s a gang of teenagers looking for drug money. Maybe the gang is changing locations.”

“Would they really target a small flower shop?” I asked.

“Why not?” Reilly said. “They’re not bank robbers. They’re looking for easy access. Maybe they got frustrated when they couldn’t find any cash and decided to tear up the shop.”

“Was the alarm tripped?” Marco asked.

“No,” Lottie said. “I found the door open and walked in to this mess.”

“How would teens know how to bypass our alarm system?” I asked Reilly.

“It’s not easy,” Reilly admitted, “but it can be done. Kids today are techno-geeks. The more robberies this gang commits, the better they get. We can’t rule them out.”

I still wasn’t convinced, but how could I prove it was Uniworld?

Marco’s gaze met mine and I knew what he was going to say. I just didn’t want to hear it. “If I give up now,” I told him, “Uniworld wins.”

“I think they’ve already won, Sunshine.”

 

At lunchtime, we took a short break from cleaning to get a bite to eat. Lottie headed out to pick up a sandwich from the deli, and Grace went home, wanting to change into something more suitable. Marco brought me a bowl of chili, but couldn’t stay. Rafe needed a ride to a job interview, so Marco promised he’d be back later to help with the cleanup.

While Lottie ate her sandwich in the kitchen, I sat by myself in the parlor at a table in front of the bay window, taking comfort in the hot, spicy stew of ground beef, tomatoes, onions, chili peppers, cinnamon, and black beans. I turned my chair so I couldn’t see the mess in the shop and gazed outside instead. There sat the stately limestone courthouse, the symbol of justice. It almost seemed to mock me. Was there justice when big money was involved?

I sighed, feeling blue. I couldn’t continue to suffer Uniworld’s backlash and hope to keep my business running. I couldn’t subject Lottie and Grace to possible danger, either, and I couldn’t ask Marco to babysit me forever. So did I even have a choice?

I spotted Peter Chinn ambling across the courthouse lawn, heading toward Franklin Street, turning up the collar of his black wool topcoat. There was no mistaking New Chapel’s assistant city attorney. In his late thirties, Chinn was half Asian, half Caucasian, and quite obese. He had short, black hair, small eyes, an upturned nose, a small mouth, and a chin buried in rolls of flesh. I watched as he stopped at the realty next door, then came toward Bloomers, a stack of pamphlets in his hand. I went to the door and unlocked it, opening it a few inches.

“I’m handing out schedules of town meetings,” he said, offering me one. “We’re giving them to all local business owners.”

I took one and looked it over. “I’m surprised a busy man like you would have time for this, when you don’t seem to have a moment to answer even one quick e-mail.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Can I come in for a minute? We need to talk.”

So now he wanted to chat? I opened the door wide. “Sure. Come see what your pals at Uniworld did.”

He stepped inside and gazed around, his face going slack as he took in the extent of the damage. “When did this happen?”

“Last night. Looks like I should install stronger locks. Or do I need to submit a request for that so you and the committee can ignore it, too?”

He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead, which was beaded with sweat despite the cold temp. “I’m taking a risk coming here, so cut the sarcasm. I had nothing to do with this, nor do I know who did. And just to make this clear, I don’t handle the Uniworld account. I don’t even know which attorney in our firm does. But I can tell you that if you want that new door and ramp installed, you need to stop your campaign against the dairy farm.”

“So you don’t handle the Uniworld account; you just deliver their threats?”

“This is merely a friendly tip from me to you. Give me your word that you and your supporters won’t oppose the farm opening, and you can start looking for a contractor.”

One word. It was that simple. Lottie and Grace would certainly be relieved, as would Marco, Nikki, and my parents. Plus, I could stop worrying about losing Bloomers; I wouldn’t need an escort; and I could get my car back. But could I live with my conscience?

“Explain something to me, please, Mr. Chinn. How does my stand against the dairy farm affect my request for a new door and ramp?”

“Just tell me yes or no,” he snapped.

Before Chinn’s arrival I probably would have jumped at the chance to make the trouble go away. But his thinly veiled threat made me angry all over again. Still, could I afford to turn down his offer? “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Don’t take too long, Ms. Knight. You have no idea what you’re up against.” He opened the door, pausing to say, “And if you tell anyone about this conversation, I’ll deny it.”

Lottie came through the curtain just as Chinn left. “What the heck did he want?”

If I told her, I knew she’d be upset that I didn’t accept his offer. I handed her the brochure. “He left this for us.”

I
t took the rest of the week to get Bloomers back up to speed. We had to scrub and polish the wood floors, restock flowers, repair cabinets, and replace vases, candlesticks, bric-a-brac, and all the other gift items that had been broken, plus keep the coffee-and-tea parlor open to generate some income. And although our insurance policy covered most of the damage, I could still feel the swoosh of air through my wallet as money drained out.

Adding to my anxiety, I hadn’t made a decision about my position on the dairy farm, and the opening date was less than a month away. Before Peter Chinn’s visit, I’d managed to send e-mail alerts to people who’d volunteered to help, encouraging them to collect signatures for the petition and get them back to me, but none had come in yet. Frankly, I was almost relieved. Repairing my flower shop had to come first. At least Uniworld seemed to have halted its attacks, perhaps waiting to see what I would do.

My parents were appalled by the break-in, but Mom wasn’t all that upset about her art deco brooch having gone missing. She assumed it had been trashed along with everything else, and we didn’t see the need to tell her otherwise. I also didn’t voice my suspicions about who was behind it, and as it turned out, I didn’t need to. They’d already concluded it was Uniworld and were adamant that I not do anything to put myself in further danger. Luckily, I could tell them with a clear conscience that I hadn’t scheduled any more protests. Yet.