The Azalea Assault (6 page)

Her snarky tone surprised Cam. She would have thought “murder victim” qualified someone for Petunia’s pity list.

“He didn’t goose
me
,” Cam pointed out, one eyebrow up, one down, in a mock leer.

“He goosed you?” Nick scowled at Petunia.

“He’s dead. It doesn’t matter.” Petunia patted her large husband calmly. Cam could have sworn he began to purr. She almost laughed.

“Mighta mattered if I’d heard it last night. I mighta volunteered to kill him myself.”

“Shush, Nick.” Cam eyed him seriously. “You say that with the police near and you’ll have trouble.”

Petunia, though, was gazing at him fondly, happy to have a man who wanted to defend her honor. Cam knew she’d had far worse men in her life before Nick. Petunia rubbed his shoulder and smiled, then looked back at Cam. “We’ll check in. Then I’m going to call you tonight to see how this goes. Sort of exciting, isn’t it?”

“A murder? It’s pretty horrible.”

“Well, yes, of course. Horrible. But exciting.”

“And it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” Nick added, echoing Rob.

He gave Cam a fond pinch on the arm as he went out the front door, leaving Petunia to check in with Officer Moreno. Seemed like maybe Nick knew Jean-Jacques after all.

R
ob had left by the time Cam returned to the remaining photography staff and the couple household workers who were still hovering. She figured he’d gone to file a story with the paper and stake his claim to the investigation. It was then Cam realized that not only did they not have a photographer to complete the shoot they’d been planning, but they also had a potential PR crisis on their hands: this story, if not properly managed, could really hurt the Roanoke Garden Society. She didn’t want to ask Rob not to cover
it, but at the same time she hoped he wouldn’t print anything inflammatory.

She then chastised herself. Rob might be a sports reporter, but he was committed to the truth. Unfortunately, the truth looked pretty bad right now. She would have to talk to him later about how to include information about the RGS.

“Camellia Harris?”

Cam turned with a raised eyebrow at hearing her full name. “Hi, Jake.” The people around her, mostly members of the RGS, likewise turned, noting her friendship with the police officer whose name badge read “Joaquin Moreno.”

“Thought that was you. Come on over here. It’s just procedure. Nothing to worry about.” He led her to two facing chairs in a quiet corner of the drawing room.

“Yeah, thanks. My only real worry is I worked hard to set up this big photo shoot and now it looks like it won’t happen.”

“Well, your worry is understandable. Seems to me, the sooner a killer is nailed and put away, the sooner you can get back to it.”

“That’s true.”

Cam squinted at Jake. She’d never thought of him as smooth before—good-looking, sure; he had that soulful Latin lover thing going on. But strategically convincing a witness it was in her own best interest to cooperate—in a single line? She’d clearly underestimated him. And he was right. Solving this fast would be damage control. There was nothing she liked better than damage control, except maybe damage prevention.

“How well did you know the victim?”

“We shared a room full of people for just over an hour. We were part of one conversation together, in which I learned he’d shown Jane Duffy some of Roanoke. Either he was a poseur trying to impress Ms. Duffy with local knowledge or a very tacky man. Or maybe he had a bone to pick with Roanoke. He tried to impress her with Mini Graceland.” She rolled her eyes. “But then I snuck off with Rob for a bit.”

“To goose him…”

“That squealer! What did he tell you?”

“To say that and see how you reacted.” Jake grinned.

Cam raised an eyebrow. “Fine. We snuck under the trellis so I could goose him, and then I heard Jean-Jacques get mad at Samantha. Well… they got mad at each other.”

“Mad how?”

“Rob didn’t tell you?”

“Sometimes women pick up more. They’re more perceptive.”

Yes, he was smooth. Cam frowned, wanting to be honest but also not wanting to give a bad impression of anyone in the Garden Society. Then she remembered the benefit of a quick resolution and pushed on. “Jean-Jacques said he wasn’t one of her boy toys. It was as if she’d told him what to do, then she answered she
did
have a say in what he did. That wasn’t like Samantha at all. She’s good-natured when I tell her no. But she sure got mad back at him, like maybe they knew each other.”

“Huh. And does she… have boy toys?”

“Not that I’ve ever known. I mean she’s a rich, beautiful, single woman, but I never heard anything like that. I have heard rumors about her, but those involved politicians or businessmen. If she has boy toys, she’s discreet.”

“And did you talk to him before yesterday at all? Jean-Jacques, I mean.”

“Jean-Jacques? Not really. When Samantha told me he could do the shoot, I sent him a thank-you letter with an agenda and a list of our most promising features, so he could prepare. That was by email, and he sent a confirmation that said something like, ‘Got it. See you there.’”

“Samantha made the arrangements?”

Cam nodded.

“You mind if we get that email? Both the sent message and the received?”

“Not at all. Should I forward it?”

“For now, but it’s possible we’ll need an expert to retrieve
it, make sure there was no tampering. I trust you, but if it were needed for evidence or something…”

“That’s fine. Whatever you need.”

“If you were guessing, what would you say might have motivated someone to target Jean-Jacques?”

She described the argument she’d witnessed between Jean-Jacques and Ian, and then the hearsay when she and Rob came inside, mostly related to sexual insults, but that was all she knew. Half consciously, she felt herself suppressing the fact that the first goosing she’d been aware of was the one Jean-Jacques had given her own sister, but she didn’t mention it directly. “I’d guess an angry husband or boyfriend, but that’s totally a guess. I didn’t know anything about him except his photography.”

Jake nodded grimly. “That’s the main story we’ve been getting, too. We’ll start with that. Did he touch you?”

“No.” Cam frowned. She hadn’t wanted to be goosed, but now it somehow seemed her goosability was in question.

“Probably woulda, but you were off with Rob,” Jake offered charitably.

She wasn’t sure she liked that interpretation any better.

“Well, I know how to find you, so I better get on with the inquiries.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Jake raised an eyebrow and waited.

“Did he fall first? Or did he get stabbed first?”

“The shears killed him. That’s as much as they could tell without the full autopsy.”

Cam nodded. “Good luck. I hope it’s resolved quickly.”

“You and me both.” He smiled his charming smile. “Say, that friend of yours, Annie—where is she? Rob said she was here last night.”

Cam had taken Annie to countless baseball games, but hadn’t realized Jake knew who she was.

“She was here to help me out a little—Petunia, too. Annie had to be at Sweet Surprise by seven this morning, though. Busy day.”

“You know when she slows down?”

“Usually between one and three, then she gets the after-school rush before closing.”

“Why is she so busy in the morning?”

“She’s baking. She sells a lot to local markets and hotels, plus works with some caterers like Petunia. Actually, I think she’s baking for the Dogwood Festival, the traitor.”

“Busy girl.” Jake laughed.

It sounded like maybe his interest wasn’t strictly professional, and it amused Cam to think of the wayward Annie dating a police officer. She waved as he left to talk to others, and then she went to grab a sandwich.

Madeline Leclerc found Cam as she was taking her first bite. “There you are!
Garden Delights
is trying to cancel! Come quickly.” Cam wondered what she could possibly do that the woman hadn’t already tried, but she reluctantly left her sandwich and followed Madeline into Neil Patrick’s library, where another meeting was underway.

Ian Ellsworth, the senior-ranking magazine staffer present, was explaining the impossibility of staying. “What you have is a visual piece, and with no photographer we can’t do it. Besides, this is a huge scandal associated with the shoot, and the magazine doesn’t need that kind of publicity.”

“Please, Mr. Ellsworth, the accident didn’t have anything to do with us. Don’t you have a magazine photographer?” Evangeline begged.

He looked uncomfortable under Evangeline’s pleading gaze.

“No, as a matter of fact. Our only staff photographer is in Amsterdam for the Tulip Festival. Cam, you remember?”

Eyes turned to her. “It’s true. That was why Samantha suggested Jean-Jacques in the first place. Though it’s also true that this… ‘scandal’ could sell more magazines, provided it’s handled tastefully and the gardening pictures are still really good.” It was spin, no doubt about it, but she hoped it sounded plausible.

“Cammi, can you help save this photo shoot?” Neil Patrick begged.

“We can’t get out until tomorrow morning anyway, so if you find a replacement photographer today, we can stay,” Tom said as Ian scowled. “Otherwise, we’ll need to cancel.”

It occurred to Cam that Tom might have more clout than it had seemed at first. She also thought Ian was a sanctimonious jerk. Annie’s radar had nailed it. Then an idea occurred to her. It wasn’t the sort of thing she could blurt out, as it might not work. Best friends were worth more than jobs, no matter how much you loved your job. She thought, though, this might be a winning option for everyone.

“I’ll do my best, sir. I think I have an idea.”

C
am forced herself to breathe. It had been so much work to get
Garden Delights
to Roanoke in the first place. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing them over something so uncontrollable. If she were honest, which she wasn’t always, Cam had control issues. She believed if you put in the legwork you could will something to happen, and she hated it when life didn’t fall into line. It didn’t just disappoint her. It angered her.

“I’ll see what I can come up with, Mr. Patrick. I’ll come by later this afternoon to discuss our options. I’ll see y’all then.”

The Garden Society and magazine staff all waved to her with varying degrees of encouragement, but as she got out the door she realized she had no ride. She felt her blood pressure rising. Cam puzzled at how this hadn’t occurred to her, but when stress welled up like this, the truth was she got a little twitchy. She paced manically. Just leaving wouldn’t do, because though she had a “what to do” solution, the “how to do it” part had yet to come to her. Normally she gardened to meditate, but when things were this
stressful, she needed to get on her bike and ride out of town for a while, hit the open roads, and let her self-created breeze wash it all away. Then she would be able to think. To get to her bike, though, she first had to get home.

She spotted Jake Moreno, also winding up for the time being.

“Um, Jake? I hate to ask, but I came out here with Rob, and he… left me.”

“Well, that’s one idiotic boyfriend, leaving you for just anybody to pick up.” He grinned.

“Like maybe even a handsome cop?”

“I’ve heard of stranger things. You want to do something to get arrested?”

“Hitchhiking count?”

“Yeah, I’ll have to take you in for that.”

“Perfect!” She smiled and climbed into his passenger door.

“So this probably isn’t very good for that Garden Club of yours, is it?” he said.

She bit back a comment about how offended the Garden Society would be at being called a “club.”“Not at all. The magazine is threatening to bail if we don’t find another photographer today.”

“Is that hard to do?”

“I hope not. Annie’s actually quite talented.”

“Annie? I thought she baked.” He licked his lips, as if savoring the idea of baked goods.

“Annie is a virtual ninja of talent. She not only bakes and takes pictures, she sculpts, too. I’ve even seen her paint, though admittedly, that was with food and I was washing it out for weeks.”

“Sounds kinky.” He raised a hopeful eyebrow.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Cam answered dryly, hoping this appealed to the hot cop. Some part of her hoped to live vicariously through her best friend. She eyed him, imagining how a cop might think. “So any new theories?”

“No, but I am annoyed you didn’t mention him slapping
Petunia’s backside when you first met him.” He eyed Cam, and she dropped her head.

“Sorry. I think I blocked that. I felt bad for Petunia.”

“Just make sure to work harder to remember in the future, okay?”

Cam nodded. To make nice, Jake went on like he hadn’t just lectured her.

“Pissed-off husband or boyfriend still seems most obvious, like you said, but he wasn’t a popular man.”

“No kidding. You don’t have any clue yet, do you?”

“A few ideas, but they are very speculative, and there are a lot of folks still to talk to.” Body language, which Cam had learned to read out of professional necessity, said that was a lie. He didn’t have a clue, speculative or otherwise.

“Nobody in the Garden Society?”
That
would be a PR disaster, Cam thought.

“Cam, we’ll do our best. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

His condescending dismissal annoyed her. She hated chauvinism. It also missed the point. In some way she was responsible for these people. She knew it wasn’t rational; she didn’t control anybody in the Garden Society, and Jake’s obnoxious comment was just Jake being a cop, but it irritated her. She was relieved when he dropped her off at home.

C
am donned her biking shorts, T-shirt, and helmet in record time. She knew a route out of town with only three stoplights, and if she rode her fastest from the first, she could make the other two without stopping. Then she was out into the hilly countryside, green and fragrant, with the newly budding rows of corn and tobacco on the farmland, pines on the not-so-distant mountains, and the sporadic trees, glistening with shiny new leaves, interspersed between the fields. Her favorite was a twisting butternut tree halfway through her ride that looked like an old person who had persevered since the beginning of time, regardless of the
land around it being taken over by agriculture. She always shouted hello as she passed.