Community Gardens (Community Garden Series Book 1) (10 page)

“
Here,
let me help you hold this in place.”

“
Thank
you, trying to do too much by myself just makes extra work.”

“
True.
So are you gonna tell me what the girls are planting in this bed?”

“
Peppers.
They take the longest to ripen and are sure to survive the heat.”

Before
Roz took another whack, a woman screamed like a bobcat.
Roz
dropped her hammer.
Color
vanished
from her face. Joan slowly looked up. Next to the knock-out roses,
Ivy stood frozen, her eyes wild and staring at the crowd. Joan leaped
and ran toward Ivy. Several volunteers followed.

Ivy cried, “a sk... sk... Skull!”

Joan grabbed Ivy's arms and cradled her. Slowly easing one foot in
front of the other, they moved away from the scene. Joan willed her
eyes to look forward avoiding any possible view of the skull. They
reached a wooden bench and sat down. Ivy heaved her body into Joan's
side and shuttered. Joan patted her arms. She could hear volunteers
speculating; human for sure, how on earth, who is it? Then she heard
someone yell dial 911. Another said call the Sheriff. Then someone
was talking to the Sheriff. Ivy whimpered. Joan pulled her shoulders
blades together, drew a breath deep below her rib cage, and looked
toward the crowd.

Roz stood at the back of the crowd with Lindsey and Chloe buried at
her waist. In the distance, sirens blared and grew louder as they
approached. Then Roz turned as if she sensed Joan was looking at her.
Her mouth gaped open wide. It was the first time Joan could recall
Roz speechless.

* * *

Yellow
crime scene tape marred the fence where plants should have grown. The
crowd was gone. Joan sat and watched Ed and the other officers
trample across her gardens. Everything had halted. Boards, not yet
built into boxes, lay motionless in the dirt. The yellow flags
remained in place, waiting for box gardens to fill the void. Even the
library closed. The patrons had all been sent home. Questions swirled
aimlessly in her head.
Maybe I shouldn't wait
anymore. Maybe I shouldn't do this at all. I just want a garden, a
community garden.

“
I
know how difficult this is.” Ed lifted his hat and scratched
his forehead.

“
What
do I do?”

“
Right
now the best thing for you to do is go home. Until we get a better
idea of what's happened here, I'm going to ask you to wait before you
come back.”

“
How
long?”

“
Could
be several days. Would you like someone to take you home?”

“
No,
I think not. I need to walk away.”

She
nodded at Ed then walked toward the gates
without
looking
back.

Silence engulfed the
nursery and she liked it that way. It gave her the chance to deadhead
every brown and rotten bloom that existed in the nursery. It also
gave her time to let her mind simmer down after the police shut down
the community garden.
Three weeks
had passed with no word from the Sheriff. At this point she hoped
they would never find out what had happened. She'd imagined that the
library concealed an ancient Indian burial ground beneath the
foundation, or that a French trapper had fallen on horrid luck and
died. Whatever the case, she really did not want to think about it
any longer. She just wanted the incident to go away.

As
she plucked a dying petunia, a few drops of rain pinged on the roof
then quickly turned into a pounding deluge. Irritated at the constant
pounding, she stopped plucking and went back to the empty showroom
hoping the storm would keep customers, with annoying questions, away
until she could get back to the nursery. Before Joan could cross the
nursery, Roz opened the door.

“Ed's
on the phone for you.”

She
quickened her pace and answered the land line phone in the kitchen.

“Are
you sitting down?” Ed asked.

“I
am now,” she lied.

We
have identified the remains. They belong to Sara's late husband.”

“Oh
my God.”

“He's
been missing since Halloween 2001. We found his empty skiff floating
in the
bay
ou, but we never
found a trace of him until now.”

“Sara
must be beside herself with agony.”

“Yes,
she has been for a long time.”

“How
long do you think the investigation will last?”

“There
is not going to be an investigation.”

“What?”
This time Joan sat down hard. “But how can that be after all
these years? Sara must want to know who did this.”

“Actually,
we've already talked and she'd like the case to remain closed.”

“But
the truth needs to come out Ed. I need to know the truth.”

“I
thought you might feel that way. You see, everyone thought he fell
from the boat and it was horrifying to imagine how he could have died
in those waters. As time passed, the image faded. Sara doesn't want
to stir up any new horrors.”

“But
I don't understand, isn't an investigation mandatory?”

“Again,
I considered you would think that way, so I talked with Sara and we
would like to meet with you within the hour.”

Joan
paus
ed a moment. “And Sara agreed? If so, I'd like to
meet
.”

“She
did. So we will see you in an hour.”

Joan
set the phone down and blinked at Roz. “Sara and the Sheriff
are coming. Even though they've identified that body as Sara's former
husband, she doesn't want an investigation.”

Roz
cocked her head. “You're shitting me?”

Joan
repeated Ed's story verbatim. Over the next hour they dissected,
analyzed and guessed at Sara's reasoning. They discussed how hard it
must have been for Sara to lose her husband before she had children.
With no heirs, Sara was the last Deaux descendant that would hold a
political office in Sand Hill Cove. And they'd been running the town
for years. But before they could conjure up a meaning, the entrance
bell clanged.

Joan
met Ed and Sara in the showroom. She helped them hang their soggy
coats and had them follow her into the kitchen. That seemed like the
most comfortable place to talk. Ed started to explain, but Sara
interrupted.

“Ed
I appreciate you speaking up, but I'd like to talk to Joan and Roz.”
Sara sat down and rested her hands on the table. “Ed may have
already told you this, but I'd like to start at the beginning.”

“My
husband disappeared the day of the Blue Moon Festival. That year the
festival was a wild affair since it landed on Halloween and I
expected my husband to be
at the
center
of the drinking festivities. I also expected him to
spend the night with one of his mistresses as he had done for years.”

“When
I came home after watching the parade in front of Holden's Bookstore,
I heard yelling and sobbing coming from my kitchen. I grabbed a
shovel from the porch and worked up the courage to walk in my own
home. As I walked toward the kitchen the shouting stopped. Then I saw
my drunken husband standing in his shorts near the kitchen table. A
gun laid next to the vase I had filled with roses just that morning.
A young woman stood opposite the table. Her face was splotchy and red
from crying. Her hair hung over her eyes. She turned to me and said
she
was so sorry, but n
e
eded
help raising her daughter. She pleaded with me to help her.”

“I
recall standing there with a shovel in my hand feeling immobile. Then
I heard a small voice next to the kitchen table. A tiny girl with
wide blue eyes said Daddy. Then she reached at the table.”

Sara
stopped, put her head in her hands and sobbed. Ed clutched her
shoulder. “No need to go on Sara.”

Sara looked up and said “Oh, but I do. It's time. There is no
one after me. I have no family, no heirs, no one to disgrace. I will
finish.”

She drew a breath. “That sweet innocent child standing at the
table was Stephanie.”

Confused, Joan shook her head. “Della Stone's daughter? But how
could...”

“
It
happened so fast. Stephanie reached for the candy dish setting on the
table. She barely tapped the gun. In a heartbeat a shot rang out.
Blood gushed from my husband's chest. Without a sound he collapsed on
the floor.”

Sara paused. Joan started to say something but Sara cut her off.

“
We
panicked. We wanted to protect Stephanie. But which one of us should
take the blame for killing my husband? We knew that any investigation
would harm Stephanie and ruin both of us. We agreed to bury him under
the rosebushes. Later, to make it look like an accident, we unhooked
his skiff, filled it with beer cans and pushed it into the bayou.”

Exhausted, Sara paused for a moment. Ed patted her shoulder.

“
I
have made sure that Stephanie has had a decent life. I helped her
mother give Stephanie up for adoption to Della Stone. Della and her
husband were overjoyed to have such a beautiful daughter. Neither of
them know anything that happened that night.”

“
As
for Stephanie, she knows her momma loved her very much and wanted the
best for her. And Stephanie understands her momma let Mr. and Ms.
Stone adopt her because the Stones could provide for her better than
her momma ever could. Stephanie's only recall of the night is that a
scary goblin from the parade pulled a prank on her momma and me.”

“The
child has a good life. She's studying to be a marine biologist.
Unfortunately Stephanie's mother died years ago, but those wounds are
well behind her. The Stone's have a good life. I have a good life.
You see Joan, searching for my husbands killer would destroy a lot of
people like destroying a garden in full bloom. Shall we agree to let
this tragedy rest?”

Joan set her cup down. There was nothing that could be said or done
that would change the past. It was dead and buried. But they could
all move forward. She clasped Sara's hands. “Agreed.”

The next morning Joan
walked to Holden's before the heat and humidity
became
too hard
to
bear.
This morning, she told herself,
I am going to drink something
other than my trusted old coffee
. Along the way she brushed
against a sprig of rosemary then rubbed it over her hands. She wanted
the scent to linger for a long time.

At
Holden's, she picked off a few dead leaves from the vines she'd
planted. These vines were still the best choice for these old urns.
They gave it a regal look and feel. She looked inside. Blaine was
busy cleaning the shelves behind the counter with his feather duster.
She tugged at the massive oak doors and stepped inside.

He
quickly turned and smiled. “Ah my dear extra cream in your
coffee?”

“Not
today.” Blaine raised a thick eyebrow and stared directly in
her eyes.

“Today
I think I want a latte with that chocolate whip you've been serving.”

“
Oh,
a bit daring so early in the morning?”

“No
just something different.” Joan looked at the familiar pictures
on the wall while he made the steaming latte. The pictures had become
so familiar she'd practically forgotten they were there. Looking at
them this time, she noticed a slight crack in one of the frames. She
thought about telling
Blaine then
decided otherwise. The crack added a bit of character to the
frame.

Blaine
set a white cup and saucer, full of the steaming latte, on the
counter. She sipped the frothy mixture. “Hmm, perfect.”
After savoring several more sips she asked, “aren't yo
u
going too a
sk me about the skull?”

“Hadn't
planned on it.”

“Really,
but you always...”

“Alright,
if you wish.”

For
a moment she was stunned that he didn't ask for all the details. But
then recalled Blaine knew everything, sometimes before it happened.
But this time she decided to repeat the story in her own words. “You
remember the blue moon of Halloween back in 2001?”

Vaguely,
yes I do recall, very busy night. Lots of drinking.”

Joan
looked in Blaine’s eyes.
Blaine, who knows everyone’s
life story, can vaguely recall the rarest event in fifty years?
She knew just by looking into his eyes, he not only knew the story,
but would keep the secret safe forever.

“As
I understand it Sara's husband disappeared that night. So when we
found the bones we hoped it was him. Unfortunately, it wasn't him.
They don't have an answer and it doesn't look like they ever will.”

“
Maybe
someday they will find out what happened.” His eyes flashed as
if a tightly guarded secret flickered across his mind.