The Azalea Assault (15 page)

“Annie!” Jake looked surprised.

“Don’t Annie me, you—”

“Sorry I couldn’t make it for brownies. I really am! Did you—”

“Save it, you lowlife creep!”

Annie came toward Jake, hands on her hips, menace in her voice.

“Watch out. You’re almost to the crowbar part,” Ian growled.

Cam hadn’t noticed him enter behind them and turned to stare, but Annie ignored him.

“You two-timing
married
son-of-a—”

“What? I’m not… But you—”

“I saw you! Your little family is very sweet, but don’t you dare—”

“But they’re—”

“Can it!”

Annie stormed away, and Cam stood, stunned. She wanted to follow her best friend, but at the moment, professionalism contraindicated it.

“I suppose that might have gone better,” she said.

A
fter Annie left, Evangeline returned with towels and passed them out. Cam stared at Jake, remembering her own issues with the man, but Ian interrupted her thoughts.

“I knew that nut-job would crack, after what she did to my brother… well… his car, really.”

Cam finally took stock of who was present and realized Joesph and Samantha had just arrived—they seemed to spend a lot of time at the Patricks’—in addition to the
Garden Delights
crew and her father.

She looked carefully at her dad and noticed his somewhat guilty expression. She suspected he knew something. This wasn’t the time to get into it, but she was too curious not to try for the short version in whispered tones.

“I can’t believe he’d be so awful!”

“He’s just acting on the wrong set of facts.”

“And what set of facts are those, Daddy?” Cam looked at him intently.

“I’m sorry, sunshine. Those aren’t my secrets to tell. You ask Annie.”

That wasn’t what Cam wanted to hear, and she frowned. She didn’t want Annie to reveal her dad’s secrets—that would be embarrassing. But she’d never considered her dad knew secrets about Annie that she didn’t.

Jake and Evangeline seemed to be done, so Cam approached, ready to give Jake a piece of her mind, but he headed her off with a question.

“Why didn’t you tell me Annie had a record?”

“What?”

“I woke up this morning to a pile of garbage on my porch—baking garbage—so I looked. Annie has a record.”

“What kind of record?”

“Vandalism—she smashed some guy’s car windshield. That’s probably what Ian was talking about.”

Cam stared, not processing for a moment. It had nothing to do with the Annie she knew, even if it fit with what Ian had said.

“I think that’s the wrong Annie.”

“I don’t think so. She’s not as stable as she seems.”

“Says the married guy who wanted to date her!” Cam spat.

“You saying you believe that? I’m not!”

“Serious girlfriend, then.”

“No, she’s my—”

“Save it! I’m done unless this questioning is official!” Cam shouted, feeling rather content to stomp away in spite of the stares.

She found her dad at the edge of the room again. He hugged her.

“You know, there is a truth in the middle somewhere,” he said.

“So tell me.”

“I can’t. Annie needs to talk to you.”

“Then can you drop me off to help Petunia this afternoon?”

“Petunia? That’s right. I’m on my way there, too!”

“I’d really rather I did lunch and you could help her this afternoon to prepare for dinner.”

“Well, sure. Whatever helps.”

She took his arm and steered him out to his car. They sprinted through the rain, and then she spouted her worries as he drove.

C
am breathed a sigh of relief. Who would have ever thought sitting in the passenger seat while her father drove and she unloaded would be an improvement over… well… anything? But at least he was relatively calm. He nodded a lot and made pained faces. But he didn’t blow up or blame Nick. She knew not all in-laws were so cool.

“I’m heading back out to La Fontaine later—I promised to pick up Jane and take her back to her hotel this afternoon. Do you want me to take you back around three?” he asked. The change of subject was unexpected but also seemed appropriate. Who knew her dad was good in a crisis?

“That would be good. We have lunch to deliver there, but if I could help Petunia with all her lunch deliveries, I’d feel better.”

“And then I’ll be at Spoons by four to help with dinner, right after I drop off Jane at the hotel… You know, this isn’t your fault, sunshine.”

“Daddy?” She felt her voice ready to crack and knew her father heard it.

“What is it, honey?”

“Have you heard the stuff about Nick? His record, I mean?”

“Not the whole story, and I’m not going to judge him on the little I do know. I don’t think we should decide anything until we hear everything. They only have half a story about Annie, and look how that looks.”

They had just pulled up in front of Spoons, and Cam’s eyes stung, but this time it was in admiration for her father.

“You’re the best man on earth, you know that?” she said as she climbed out of the car.

He laughed.

“After the supper tonight, will you come back to my place?” she asked, speaking through the open passenger-side window. “I think Annie might be more willing to talk if you’re there.”

“Of course I will. I’ll see you at ten of three, okay?”

“Perfect. Daddy?” Her dad looked back expectantly. “I’m serious. You’re the best.”

He made an “aw, shucks” sort of gesture and swiped his hand in front of him, and then he put the car in drive and pulled away.

P
etunia started barking orders at Cam the minute she entered, but it was nice to be so busy she didn’t have time to think. Chop mushrooms. Toss salad. Strain pasta. Help transfer food.

It was almost an hour before they were in the van, but Cam only knew it because of her watch. Time had flown. She was glad Petunia had the distraction.

They had three lunches to deliver: a small one for an office party that the two of them managed in one trip using the rolling cart Petunia had, then the Garden Society, and finally a sack lunch for a group day retreat.

The office delivery went smoothly. The meeting was still in session, so the receptionist helped transfer things to her own cart and then waved them away.

The Garden Society, however, was another matter. Petunia seemed completely offended this group had somehow gotten her husband thrown in prison, so she wouldn’t say a word.

Cam helped with the first load but then felt a need to check in with her employers. Mr. Patrick was deep in conversation with Joseph Sadler-Neff at one of the covered patio tables, so Cam waited behind Joseph, hoping for a break in the conversation.

“…if he’d only signed off—then I could have done that full-time, instead of having to maintain the librarian spot, too. You know, it’s really his fault it failed.”

As Joseph finished, Mr. Patrick looked up and spotted Cam hovering nearby. “Cammi! What a pleasant surprise!”

Cam could tell Mr. Patrick wished she had not heard them, not that she could make heads or tails of why the conversation was so sensitive, except that it sounded like Joseph had a bruised ego.

“Mr. Patrick, I’m helping my sister, Petunia, just through lunch, so I’ll be back at three. How are things here?”

“Fine as far as I know.”

“Do you know where the camera crew is?”

“In the summer greenhouse, I think. A lot to do in there, and Evangeline wanted to pose by the ashoka tree.”

Cam bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grimacing. “Could you maybe encourage her to also pose by a native plant?” she asked, knowing the request was useless.

He smiled, but Cam was sure he had no intention of disappointing his wife.

“Ah! Sustenance!”

Cam turned to see the camera crew coming toward them, taking advantage of a break in the rain and led by Tom, whose proclamation made it sound like he was starving. Hannah accompanied him, always eager for his company.

A hundred feet behind them Annie and Ian were arguing worse than ever.

“I’m just saying, I have you pegged for the killer! You’re unstable.”

“I wouldn’t hurt a flea! Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh no? Well, you seem to be awfully good friends with a crowbar.”

They stopped, realizing the patio was populated. Cam was thoroughly annoyed to see that Ian looked pleased with himself. What she wasn’t prepared for was a defense from a totally unexpected front. Samantha had just come outside and stormed over to Ian.

“You have no idea who you’re talking to! I’ll have you know Annie is the daughter of a former senator, and you are way out of line!”

Cam sighed. She felt like she should stay, but Petunia had started tapping her foot expectantly.

“I’ll see you at three,” she said on her way out, but she was pretty sure nobody heard.

T
he next delivery was easier but took more time, as they had a hundred sack lunches to deliver to a seminar, so even with the cart, it took three loads, with a fair amount of shuffling at either end.

When they were done, Petunia asked if she could go home to shower.

“That’s great. Daddy can pick me up there. Would you mind if we picked up the pans for tonight on the way?”

Petunia rolled her eyes, but they headed to Spoons without an additional lecture. Cam helped load the pans into Petunia’s van, and they headed to Nick and Petunia’s condo. Nick and Petunia had it on a rent-to-buy lease, and it was decent, as condos went, though Cam never wanted to own something with so little yard. She couldn’t imagine containing her gardening in a ten-by-twenty lot.

They left the pans in the van, figuring it was easiest to move them straight to her dad’s Camry when he arrived. Petunia headed into the condo for her shower, and Cam
followed. As she entered the living room, she instantly saw signs of distress.

Petunia, while not necessarily obsessively clean, as some accused Cam of being, was still usually tidy. Cam could see, however, there were dishes in the sink, socks on the floor, mail on the table, untouched, and a box of mementos strewn across the sofa and coffee table.

Two CDs for a band called the One-Eyed-Jacks. Concert tickets where the One-Eyed-Jacks were opening for bigger-named bands. Publicity photos of a trio, all with eye patches—two men and one woman.

She picked up a photo and looked more closely.

It was before the barbed-wire neck tattoo and he looked about thirty pounds lighter, but she was sure one of the “Jacks” was Nick. She knew Nick had been in a punk band that had recorded a CD or two and sold concert tickets—granted, they were not the headliners, but still. This must be that band.

She picked up the CD and put it in Petunia’s player, then sat back down to examine the jacket. It wasn’t Cam’s style, but not bad. A woman was on vocals, and she sounded oddly familiar. Cam wondered if she’d gone on to a more mainstream band. Cam took the insert out of the jewel case and looked at it more closely.

The woman in the pictures had the wrong hair color and entirely wrong style, but paired with her voice, Cam finally identified her. Evangeline had been in Nick’s band—that was why she had called him Jack. He might have even gone by Jack back then.

Her heart thumped; she looked more closely at the third person in the band. He was lankier than Nick, but cockier, too, as if it were all a big laugh.

The album credits identified them as Jack, Jack, and Jackie, expanding in parentheses that they were Jonathan Jacobs, Jonathan Nicholas, and Jackie Evans.

Jonathan Jacobs… Jean-Jacques. She looked again with
the new insight and felt sure that was who the third musician was. Cam had a lot of questions for a lot of people, but the first had to do with how much her sister knew, and for how long.

P
etunia didn’t look any more relaxed coming out of the shower than she had going in. But Cam’s frustration at all the secrets had reached a fever pitch, so she fired away anyway.

“So
this
is your problem with Evangeline?”

Petunia gave her a tired look and went to put a pot of water on the stove for tea.

“And Nick was in a
band
with Jean-Jacques?”

“I didn’t know that until after that first party, when Nick told me. Neither of us knew he’d be there. Nick thought he’d never see him again. The name Jean-Jacques didn’t ring any bells.”

“But you knew Nick’s connection to Evangeline?”

“She let him crash with her when he first got out of prison, and that’s when I met him, so sure. They were old friends. I don’t have to like it.”

“You’re missing the point. I don’t care if you liked it. I care that I asked you your issue with Evangeline and you gave me vague nonsense. I don’t like you lying to me.”

Petunia rolled her eyes, which annoyed Cam, because she recognized her own eye roll in it and hated evidence she had an annoying gesture.

“So before this week, when was the last time Nick talked to these guys?”

“Evangeline, maybe when we moved in together? Jean-Jacques was before jail. It’s not fair they have to ruin his life again!” Petunia, Cam noted, either didn’t know about the cosigned loan or was still lying to her.

Petunia broke into tears, and Cam wasn’t sure how to respond. She was mad, but she also recognized her sister’s distress and was hard-pressed not to respond to that.

“’Tunia, what is it?”

“That horse’s ass got Nick sent to prison in the first place, but that makes Nick look guilty, and he isn’t! I swear this is Evangeline finishing the job! Please find proof, Cam. Please!”

“How? I mean… what did he do?”

“I don’t know. Nick didn’t want to talk about it. He’s always protecting me.”

“I’ll find the truth, ’Tunia. I know it wasn’t Nick, and I’ll figure out who it was.”

Cam knew the truth of Nick’s protectiveness. She held her sister for a long time, trying to assuage fears that wouldn’t go away. Petunia wasn’t happy Cam wouldn’t commit to pursuing Evangeline. For Cam’s part, she agreed at least with part of Petunia’s argument. She thought it looked bad for Nick, when Nick wasn’t the one who had done anything.