The Walleld Flower (8 page)

“In the cloakroom crying her eyes out.” Edie caught sight of Polly standing behind Katie, and her cheeks reddened.

Before Polly could explode, Katie placed a hand on Edie’s shoulder, turning her around. “Come with me,” she said, and hurried the older woman along.

“We haven’t finished our conversation,” Polly called after them.

As ever, the cloakroom’s brown-painted walls exuded a depressing aura. The sounds of racking sobs did nothing to lighten the gloom. Rose sat hunched over, elbows on the card table, her head resting on her hands, the morning newspaper spread out before her.

Katie paused in the doorway, unsure if she should venture farther. “Oh, Rose, I’m so sorry. I was hoping you wouldn’t see the newspaper article.”

The older woman raised red-rimmed eyes toward Katie.
“You knew? All day long you knew about this and said nothing?”

“How could anyone tell her friend news like that?” Katie said, braving a step forward. But she knew, hard as it would have been, that she should have somehow found the courage to do so.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again, stepping forward to rest a hand on Rose’s shoulder, knowing her excuse was as inadequate a defense as she’d ever heard. “But I promise we’ll find out why Detective Davenport misled you.”

Anger tightened Rose’s face. “Do you think he’s still over at the mansion?” she asked, pushing her chair from the table and rising. “Let’s go confront him now.”

“That mean old cop is gone,” Edie said. “I saw him dump some boxes in his car and take off a few minutes ago. Must’ve left half an inch of rubber on the tarmac.”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Katie suggested.

Rose wiped her eyes, then gathered up the newspaper, folding it. Mouth slackening, she stared at the teaser photo in the upper-right-hand corner. “I don’t believe it,” she whispered.

“What is it?” Katie asked.

Rose pointed to the picture. “That man, he’s—he’s—”

“He’s that famous movie director, Rick Jeremy, who’s giving money to the university,” Edie said.

“Oh, no, his name’s Jeremy Richards—he was Heather’s boyfriend!”

Katie bent down to take a closer look at the muddied color photograph. “Are you sure?”

“See for yourself,” Rose said, and rummaged through the box of mementos she’d shared with Katie that morning.

Katie thumbed through the newspaper until she found the feature story with a larger version of the director’s portrait. She placed it on the card table. Rose selected a photograph from the box—Heather and Jeremy smiling—and set it next to the newsprint picture.

Edie crowded in. “Looks like the same guy to me.”

She was right, although the man in the newspaper photo was twenty years older, with a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. Still, there was no mistaking the sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Rick Jeremy was Jeremy Richards.

Katie remembered what she’d read earlier that day, and an idea blossomed in her mind. “The article says he’s holding a press conference tomorrow afternoon in downtown Rochester. We’re going to be there, too.”

“Do you think he’d admit to knowing Heather?” Rose asked.

“It can’t hurt to ask,” Katie said.

“What about Artisans Alley?” Edie asked. “We need you here.”

“Vance can babysit, right?” Rose asked.

“Well, if he can’t…” Katie’s gaze slid to Edie, who blanched.

“Me?”

“Sure. You can fix a tape jam in the register. You’re practically a fixture here. You pretty much know how everything runs.”

Edie seemed to think it over, and then straightened with pride. “I’d be glad to help out.”

“Great. And as long as I’m asking for favors… Gilda Ringwald from Gilda’s Gourmet Baskets is getting married next week. She’s asked me stand up for her.”

“Oh, so that’s why she brought over that dreadful purple nightmare,” Edie mused. “Why is it brides choose the ugliest dresses for their wedding party?”

Katie forced a smile. “I have no idea. And it’s miles too long for me. I was wondering if I could pay you to adjust the hem.”

“I mostly work with terrycloth and cotton, but I’d be willing to give it a try.”

Uh-oh. Had she made a mistake trusting Edie with the dress? Katie’s forced smile resurfaced.

“And you don’t need to pay me,” Edie said. “When do you want to have me work on it?”

“Whenever it’s convenient. The wedding isn’t until next Saturday.”

Edie nodded. “We’ve still got plenty of time.”

“Thanks. And since we’re on the subject, do you know anything about making wedding favors?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve made so many over the years, I could probably write a book on it, why?”

“Gilda left a box of stuff. Apparently I’m in charge of making them, and I have no idea where to start.”

“Leave it to me,” Edie said with a nod.

“Thanks.” She was starting to sound like a broken record. “The box is in my office. I’ll be more than happy to turn it over to you.”

“How many do you need?”

Katie took a wild guess. “Fifty.”

“That won’t take long.”

“Great.” Katie glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s time we locked up for the night.”

“Maybe I should practice closing down the register.” Smiling broadly, Edie bustled from the cloakroom.

Katie glanced back at Rose, who’d been silent during the last exchange. Her lips were pursed, and Katie could see she looked hurt. “I’m surprised at your insensitivity, Katie. You were the one who found Heather’s remains right here on Victoria Square, and now you’re going to participate in a wedding?”

“It’s not until a week from Saturday. And believe me, it wasn’t
my
idea,” Katie muttered. “But, Rose, would you deny Gilda and Conrad the chance to celebrate what could be the happiest day of their lives?”

Rose seemed unmoved by her words.

She tried again. “You’ve told me how much you loved your husband, Howard. Well, Gilda loves Conrad. It’s taken them decades to come to this point in their lives.”

“I know,” Rose said, defeat coloring her voice, “but did they have to do it
now
?”

“A week from now,” Katie reminded her. “Were you invited to the wedding?”

Rose shook her head. “Why would I? I don’t know them.”

“But
I
do. As the leader of the Merchants Association, I work with Gilda and Conrad and the rest of the merchants on a regular basis. We’ve all gotten to be friends.” Okay,
that was stretching the truth just a bit. “Please don’t ask me to choose.”

Rose hung her head. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Of course you should be in Gilda’s wedding. Just because Heather is dead and can no longer experience joy doesn’t mean others should be miserable. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking that Heather was cheated out of a beautiful wedding day, and the joys of motherhood, and maybe a wonderful career—everything her parents and
you
had wished for her. I don’t think that’s too hard to understand.”

Rose nodded and looked back down at Jeremy’s photograph, worry creasing her already lined face. “What if the security people at that press conference tomorrow won’t let us in?”

Katie picked up a steno pad from the table, handing it to Rose. “We’ll pretend to be reporters. If you put a pencil behind your ear, the disguise will be complete.”

“What about you?” Rose asked.

“With Chad’s Nikon camera slung around my neck, I’ll look just like any other press photographer.”

Rose picked up the newspaper, folding it carefully. “I’m sure Jeremy knows something about Heather’s death. He’s just got to!”

Katie studied her friend’s face. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about the other news article. Can you ever forgive me?”

“I’m still angry—but not at you.”

Katie let out a breath. Thank goodness.

Rose’s mouth settled into a determined straight line. “In fact, I’m so angry at Detective Davenport, I’m going to call a lawyer.”

“I want to sue!” Rose declared, and paced two steps and back in the confines of Katie’s tiny office.

“Now, Rose, please be reasonable,” said Seth Landers, McKinlay Mill’s only lawyer. He’d taken a position on the edge of Katie’s desk, as far away from Rose and the door as he could get.

“I’m tired of being reasonable,” Rose ranted. “I want an apology from Detective Davenport—in writing—and I want damages. Lots of them. Punitive, monetary, and any others you can think of. I don’t care what it costs.”

Katie shrugged as Seth’s handsome face collapsed into a frown. At Rose’s insistence, Katie had called the small-town attorney, knowing he’d give Rose his best counsel.

“Why would Detective Davenport lie to me about Heather?” Rose said for at least the tenth time. “Why?”

“Perhaps to spare your feelings?” Seth suggested, giving Katie a sidelong glance.

“Yes, but he had to know she’d find out the truth eventually,” Katie said. “It’s extremely unprofessional behavior on his part. Can’t Rose at least complain to his superior officer?”

Seth sighed. “I’ll tell you what; tomorrow morning I’ll make a couple of calls and see what I can find out. It may just be that the detective is drowning in casework and was simply having a bad day. It happens.”

“I don’t trust that man,” Rose said. “He wasn’t that motivated to solve Ezra’s murder, and I’m afraid he’ll show the same lack of interest in Heather’s case. I can’t have that. She was like my own child. I have to make sure that the person or persons who killed Heather are brought to justice.”

Seth let out another sigh. “I’ll do what I can. In the meantime, how would you ladies like to accompany me to Del’s Diner for dinner? There are no two people I’d rather be with tonight.” When Rose gave no answer, he added in his most sincere voice, “The special tonight is chicken and biscuits.”

Rose glanced at Katie, her expression one of defeat. “All right. I’ll get my coat.” Rose exited the room, leaving Katie and Seth alone.

Katie strained to look around the door to make sure Rose was out of earshot before speaking. “You’re a peach, Seth.”

“Hey, I gotta eat, too,” he said, rising. “And why shouldn’t I have the company of the two prettiest women in town?”

Katie raised an eyebrow. “Do all lawyers lie as sweetly as you?”

“Only the good ones,” Seth admitted, smiling.

Ahh, that gorgeous smile. Months before, Katie had nearly fallen for Seth. His good looks, his kindness, and his charm made her feel giddy with infatuation. It was only when Andy informed her that Seth found guys more attractive than gals that she realized his overtures were of a friendly—not romantic—nature. In the intervening time, he’d become her best friend.

“We ought to take separate cars,” Katie said, grabbing her sweater from the peg behind the office door. “Afterward we can head home without coming back here.”

“Good idea,” Seth agreed. “I’ll tell Rose.”

The phone rang.

“I’ll meet you at Del’s,” he said, and sketched a wave as he exited the office.

The phone shrilled again and Katie grabbed it. “Artisans Alley. Katie Bonner speaking.”

“Mrs. Bonner, we need to talk. Tonight.”

Katie couldn’t immediately place the woman’s voice. “Who is this?”

“I don’t have much time,” the woman insisted. “Now—and not on the telephone.”

“Now’s not good. How about eight o’clock at Del’s Diner?” What better place for a rendezvous? A public place, well lit, with plenty of witnesses. Katie shook herself. Polly’s paranoia must be contagious.

“Okay, eight o’clock,” the woman said.

Katie heard a click, and then silence. It was only as she put the receiver down that she realized to whom the voice belonged: Barbie Gordon.

The chicken and biscuit special at Del’s did not disappoint, and in fact, the portions were so generous Katie and Rose would each have enough leftovers for a hearty lunch. Katie didn’t tell Rose or Seth about the phone call she’d received prior to her leaving Artisans Alley, knowing they’d both insist on staying and their presence might scare Barbie off. Instead, she surreptitiously looked at her watch at least a hundred times, hoping she could get rid of her dinner companions before the appointed hour.

Seth insisted they all have dessert—cherry pie for him, and lime Jell-O for the ladies—and over a second cup of coffee, Katie told him about her plan to attend the press conference scheduled for Rick Jeremy the next day.