The Azalea Assault (21 page)

“No.” Cam sat quietly with that idea, but Evangeline gave an oddly helpful suggestion.

“What if someone just wanted it to look like Annie did it?”

“I had the same idea, only I thought it was Ian who was trying to set Annie up for the first murder. Obviously, that’s not the case. Do you think someone else is trying to frame Annie for Ian’s death?”

“I don’t know—the killer might just hate out-of-towners. But what if the second murder only happened to throw suspicion off of the killer for the first?”

Cam’s eyes went wide. “What a wonderful, horrible, rotten idea!”

Evangeline laughed. “I love the Grinch.”

T
he idea that Ian’s murder was just a diversion from the first opened a whole new angle, because honestly, unless Tom and Hannah were freaky serial killers, Cam couldn’t see how the same person would have it in for both Jean-Jacques and Ian—well, unless somebody had decided to murder all the world’s arrogant jerks. But if she looked at the second murder in this new light, several more suspects came to mind.

The list would continue to include Nick, though Nick couldn’t have killed Ian, so if Nick
had
killed Jean-Jacques, and Ian’s murder was just a cover-up for the first, that meant Nick had an accomplice. She quietly quashed the idea that this theory made Petunia a suspect for murder number two. She knew
that
wasn’t possible—even more impossible than Nick’s being a murderer, which was already impossible. The idea also made Samantha seem a more likely candidate, and ironically, Evangeline, as well as all the people who might want to protect those two women—Joseph, Neil, possibly Benny—as Jean-Jacques seemed to be harassing both.

Cam wondered who knew about the harassment. The killer would have had to know about it before the first murder.

She decided it was time to visit Samantha again. There were surely enough Garden Society issues to merit a meeting between the group president and the public relations specialist.

O
n impulse Cam drove Annie’s Bug to Samantha’s, rather than calling ahead. Joseph’s car was in the driveway, which she suspected was true a lot of the time. Cam hoped she wasn’t breaking up anything romantic, though she remembered Samantha saying Joseph was quite old-fashioned.

She rang the doorbell and a woman answered. It triggered Cam’s memory.

“Are you Francine?”

“Yes, miss.”

She introduced herself. “I wondered… a couple days ago… the day Jean-Jacques was killed…”

A frightened expression clouded the woman’s face.

“I hadn’t seen him since the day before!”

“No! I know! I didn’t think so. I just wondered about the trouble waking Samantha.”

“Oh, yes. Well, usually she’s having tea when I arrive.”

“What time do you arrive?”

Francine looked away and seemed to be shaking.

“It’s okay. I just need to know what time you tried to wake Samantha.”

The woman glanced around, still avoiding eye contact. Finally, she said,

“You see, miss… it’s just… I didn’t know how important it was, and I told a little white lie. My sitter had some trouble, so I didn’t get here until nine, but I told Samantha eight. I’d even left a message on her machine at six thirty or so, knowing I’d be late, but it hadn’t been checked when I got here, so I thought I’d dodged getting my pay docked. I didn’t know how important it would be. I erased my message.”

Cam nodded. “I won’t say anything unless for some reason the police investigation needs that information.”

The woman nodded gratefully and then led Cam into a small, pretty parlor she hadn’t seen the last time. Samantha looked up from a desk where she was writing in a ledger.

“Camellia! Lovely to see you!” Samantha rose and kissed both her cheeks. Joseph stood from a chair on one side of the room and briefly grasped her hand in both of his.

“Samantha, I should let you go. I’ve got things to attend to.”

“Nonsense, Joseph. Stay and visit.”

“No, really!” He ducked out without another word.

“Sorry to chase him off,” Cam said.

“Oh, honey. He needs to man up a little. He’s just so shy!”

“But I don’t want to scare him away.”

“He needs to be scared away now and again to prove there is nothing to be scared of. The poor man is afraid of his own shadow!”

“If you’re sure.”

“Of course, I’m sure. Honestly, I love him to pieces, but he’s very needy. I’d like to see him expand his network a little.”

“But does my scaring him off help that? Or hurt it?”

“I think it helps. Okay, strike that. I
hope
it helps—teaches him he can’t solely count on me, and I
know
it helps me. It’s a burden to have a person so dependent on you.”

Cam smiled, encouraged.

“I hope you won’t change your mind. I have… some curiosities…”

“Oh! Speaking of curiosity, you know I was thinking. That sleeping pill? I bet Johnnie did that.”

“Johnnie?”

“Well, yes. He was obviously up to something, sneaking off in the wee hours of the morning, showing up at the Patricks’ like that. It makes sense he wouldn’t want me to interfere.”

“That does make sense, I guess.”

“Okay, so what were you curious about?”

“I’m concerned for my sister.” The lie, she noticed, was getting easier.

Samantha nodded, her brow slightly wrinkled.

“And I’ve just learned from Evangeline that Nick—Petunia’s husband—was in a band with Evangeline… and Jean-Jacques…”

“Nick’s the one who stole the money,” Samantha said. Her voice had dropped, and she looked away from Cam.

“According to Evangeline—she didn’t know until Nick was in jail, but Jean-Jacques stole it, then saw he was going to be caught and framed Nick.”

Samantha bit her lip. “Oh dear. I was afraid that might be the real story.” She looked truly sorry but then frowned again. “So Nick didn’t kill him to get even, did he?”

“No! Nick didn’t kill him at all! I’m just trying to… understand Jean-Jacques, I guess.”

“Why do you think Nick wouldn’t kill him for that? It seems like a pretty good motive to me.”

“Because I know Nick… He wouldn’t kill anybody for any reason. And there was a second death while Nick was in jail, so if Nick did kill Jean-Jacques, then we have two killers. But it doesn’t matter. Nick is gentle—well, other than normal posturing. Given the chance, he might have punched Jean-Jacques, I suppose—he might think he deserved a crooked nose for the rest of his life. But he’d never quietly
kill somebody. If he had to—or thought he did—there would be honor involved. It would be public.”

Samantha’s mouth stood open. She clearly hadn’t considered that angle.

“And what does all that have to do with me?” Samantha asked.

“He was your nephew. You knew him.”

“Oh, I don’t think I knew him. I always wished he wanted more of a relationship. His sister, Margo, and I are quite close, but
my
sister, his mother, is pretty self-absorbed. An actress—second-rate at best. I think he never got proper attention or discipline, and he and I never bonded like I did with Margo.”

Cam wasn’t interested in Jean-Jacques’s childhood deficits, but a little history might help.

“He came here summers?”

“Both of them did. Six weeks a summer from when Johnnie was thirteen. My sister did a summer Shakespeare festival somewhere—maybe New Hampshire. Anyway, she was divorced and needed a place for her kids.” Samantha’s body language was a little stiff, and Cam wondered why.

Cam went on to ask about the friendship with Evangeline and their activities, not really sure what she was looking for, trying to avoid a shutdown from Samantha.

“Evangeline seemed pretty mad about Jean-Jacques framing Nick.”

“Well, she didn’t mention that to me, but I know she was mad about him trying to borrow money again.”

“Money?” Cam had had a hint of this but wondered what Samantha would volunteer.

“Oh, it never amounted to anything—Evangeline learned how to tell him no years ago, but she grumbled about it recently.” Samantha sat back, finally relaxing a little. “I wish he’d been more like his sister. Margo and I had a great time—days at the country club by the pool—shopping. Johnnie always acted entitled, as if the rest of us should pay for his company, but then he wouldn’t behave so anybody
else might have a nice time. Evangeline lived around the corner and she caught his eye.”

Samantha was rambling, but Cam found it fascinating.

“Their family wasn’t quite as privileged, but I found if I also invited Evangeline, then Johnnie would behave to impress her. It worked beautifully for about two summers. Then both of them got it in their heads they’d rather do their own thing, and honestly, I was just glad to have him out of my hair. I pretended it worked for several more summers, until I saw he didn’t seem serious about college or a job. The camera seemed productive. At least he was somewhat dedicated. I wanted to see him succeed—be self-supporting. But that’s not a cheap business to start up.”

“So you loaned him the money, which he didn’t pay back,” Cam said, surmising the remaining details. “And after a while, you figured you’d never get it, so instead you used the debt to pressure him to come here.”

“That’s the short version.” Samantha looked guilty.

“And when did he get here?”

Samantha shrugged.

The gesture reminded her oddly of Joseph, who, Cam now remembered, had been the one who told her Jean-Jacques was staying at Samantha’s house.

She wasn’t sure what this shared gesture meant, but concluded that Samantha and Joseph must spend a lot of time together. It was a commonality like those she and Annie had.

Joseph burst in then, reminding Samantha of some lunch they had to get to, and it looked like Samantha’s concentration and attention evaporated.

“Cam, I’ve enjoyed this. I’d love to chat more later. I know you need a friend.”

Cam grasped Samantha’s hand and asked when would be good, ignoring the fact Samantha might only have said that to be polite.

“Any time after two.”

Joseph smiled, though Cam figured it was only for appearances. She could see he liked to keep Samantha to
himself as much as possible. Cam decided what she needed was a little quality time in her garden. Pulling out the weeds that didn’t deserve to make their homes in her beautiful beds required a certain frame of mind, but she had just entered that zone. A little selective herbicide was exactly what she was in the mood to do.

T
alking with Evangeline and Samantha had helped, but she needed a sounding board—Annie would have been ideal, but she was in jail. Pulling out a long strand of nightshade that had crept around the fence from her neighbor’s yard was a little satisfying, but when the dirt under her nails started to bug her, she was ready to talk to someone.

She called Rob, hoping the news of Annie’s arrest would help her convince him that police leads could be misleading.

“Are you talking to me again?” he asked when he heard her voice.

“Will you stop it? We settled this last night. I don’t want to fight. Just don’t tell me Nick did it, because he didn’t.”

“Neither did Annie.”

“Well, I agree with you there. I hoped you had some time to talk through some other ideas I had.”

The pause was too long, but because she got the answer she wanted, she decided to ignore the time lag.

“Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”

“Can you swing by for some takeout and come to my
place in an hour? I have a couple things I need to get done first,” she said.

He agreed and she hung up, then went to bring her gardening things inside. Just as she opened her back door, her phone rang again. She glanced at the caller ID display and rolled her eyes. Madeline Leclerc undoubtedly had some imaginary crisis, and Cam wasn’t in the mood for it.

“Cam, I really need to talk to you about some things. Do you have time?”

“A little.”

Madeline sighed but requested Cam come to La Fontaine.

“I’ll be out there in ten minutes.”

Cam would have asked to have their discussion by phone, but La Fontaine had to have some of the elusive answers she was looking for, so maybe she’d just poke around a little with Madeline as an excuse.

She drove to La Fontaine, psyching herself up for whatever Madeline had in mind. Cam found her just inside the front door, pacing as she waited. It looked as though Mr. Patrick and Evangeline had abandoned her for other obligations.

“I just wanted to see how the investigation was going from your perspective, Cam.”

“My perspective? I’m hardly a detective.” She was annoyed that this was the emergency, though careful not to show it, as Madeline was her boss.

“I hear you’ve been asking a lot of questions.”

“A few, I suppose.” She grabbed onto the only detail she felt Madeline would really approve of. “I tried to convince the police that Ian was the murderer, but unfortunately, somebody killed him.”

While Cam had thought Ian was a legitimate suspect, and had willingly, though fruitlessly, pointed the police in his direction, she hated feeling that her boss would prefer she say anything, even lie, to ensure the Garden Society members remained off the investigators’ radar.

“And what are you up to now?” Madeline asked. “Surely the murderer is one of the two they have.”

“I know it’s not,” Cam said sternly. “I’m trying to figure out who would want to hurt the Garden Society so badly, but I really need to check some things in back.” She headed outside, hoping Madeline believed the fib and wasn’t offended with her escape. Cam wasn’t in the mood to lie more than that to her boss, and she didn’t think her boss was really within her rights to suggest Cam investigate a murder. Especially the part where she was supposed to implicate her loved ones.

She walked along the jagged path that wove through the lily leaves of the giant mosaic. The rain had knocked many buds from several flowering bushes onto the ground, and the buds emitted sweet scents in protest. Every few steps Cam breathed deeply. She almost bumped into Hannah, who was doing the same thing.

“Oh! Hi! I thought you were at a hotel,” Cam said.