Crowned and Moldering (14 page)

That is, until Whitney and her equally annoying friend Jennifer decided to join the
committee a few weeks before the Valentine’s Day Festival. They had done what they
could to sabotage our efforts, but hadn’t succeeded and had finally quit. It was a
happy day when we no longer had to deal with their abrasive personalities.

“We’ve got eight vendors that plan to sell green beer in the town-square park,” Jane
said.

“Eight?” I exclaimed, a little shocked.

Ellie laughed. “Is that all?”

“The park isn’t that big,” Pat said. “But I guess green beer is a tradition.”

Jane went down her list. “Let’s go over what we’ve got for the kids.”

Planning events for St. Patrick’s Day was a little trickier than some other celebrations,
since the main purpose of the holiday seemed to be to get drunk and stay that way.
But our committee was tasked with making all the festivals family – and kid-friendly.
Some months it was more of a challenge than others.

I raised my hand. “Emily has offered to make a big batch of green soda. Either that
or she can do green tea. Not the healthy stuff. I mean, really green.”

“I like the idea of green tea,” Ellie said.

“Me, too,” Pat said, waving her hand. “I’ll bet I can get one of the vendors to make
green lemonade, too.”

“Okay, green lemonade and green tea,” Jane said. “Sounds perfect for anyone who doesn’t
want beer.”

Ellie leaned in. “There’s always water, too.”

“Okay, we’re covered on the beverage front.”

“We’ve got a green cotton-candy truck coming,” Ellie said. “They’ll park on the street.
They also make green popcorn.”

“Yummy.” Sylvia studied her notes. “And, by the way, I just received those five hundred
green bowler hats in the mail. We’ll hand them out along the parade route.”

“That’ll be perfect,” Jane said.

“And shamrocks,” Ellie added. “They’re on sticks and you wave them like little flags.
I think there’s a couple thousand of those.”

“Emily’s tearoom staff is also making green mini cupcakes,” I said. “And we’ve got
all of our usual food vendors returning. So there’ll be hot dogs and ribs and the
usual fare.”

Sylvia reached for a strawberry. “We’ll also have the face-paint lady and a puppeteer
for the kids.”

“Okay, good,” Jane said. “Moving on. I’ve got the pep squad set to decorate the fire
trucks Friday afternoon.”

“Hopefully there won’t be any fires,” Pat murmured.

Ellie raised her hand. “Um, I’ve got a new entry in the parade, if you all don’t mind.
It’s a skateboard brigade. Twelve boys will skateboard along the parade route, and
at the end they’ll have a double ramp set up where they’ll do lots of tricks.”

“That sounds like fun,” I said.

Jane frowned. “I don’t want them to hurt themselves.”

Ellie chuckled. “Since one of them is my son, I agree with you. He swears they’ll
be fine. First of all, they’ll be padded to the hilt, and I’m making them all wear
helmets. Plus we’ll surround the ramps with that bouncy rubber stuff, so there shouldn’t
be any injuries. I’ll have the other parents sign our general release, so we should
be okay on all fronts.”

“You’ll take care of that?” Jane asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Sounds like they’ll be safe enough,” Jane said with a sigh, and wrote something down.
“And, personally, I think they’ll be a big hit.”

“Me, too,” I said.

Jane continued scanning her clipboard for another few seconds, then looked up. “How
about if we put the skateboarders in the parade right after the cheerleaders?”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Ellie said quickly. “I wouldn’t trust my son not
to torment one of those cute little cheerleaders.”

“Good point,” Jane muttered. “I’ll put them after one of the marching bands instead.”

“I’ll make sure they’re all dressed in green with the hair combed and ready to go,”
Ellie said.

Sylvia piped up. “We’ve got the veterans lined up to go first, and the classic-car
club members coming at the end.”

“Are they okay with going last this time?”

“They love it,” Sylvia said. “The crowd will be able to follow them to the parking
lot, where they’ll show off their low-rider stuff for everyone.”

“Okay. On to the advertising,” Jane said, nodding at Pat.

“I’ve been to every store and restaurant on the town square,” Pat said. “The restaurants
all plan to offer a St. Patrick’s Day special and the stores will push a few sales
items. The town square retail association is running ads in this Sunday’s paper and
next week’s, listing every business that’s offering a deal. We should have quite a
nice turnout.”

Jane stared at her list for a long moment, then looked up at us. “I think we’re ready.”

Sylvia grinned. “We’re ready.”

*   *   *

After the girls left, I went outside to the garden and walked around, studying my
plants, examining pots, checking for bugs, and pruning here and there. I made a list
of everything I wanted to buy at the nursery. And I mentally planned out my conversation
with Denise. Once I spoke to her, I wanted to be able to tell Sean what was going
on. I just hoped Denise would be willing to talk to me about Lily.

“Hello, Irish,” Mac said.

I gazed up at the balcony, where he stood outside his apartment, looking dark and
dangerously handsome in a T-shirt, jeans, and socks. “Good morning, Mac.”

“You look thoughtful. What’re you doing?”

“I’m making a list.”

“Making lists is one of my favorite things to do,” he said, grinning back at me.

“I’m about to go to the nursery. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

He leaned his elbows on the railing. “Since I asked you to go out with me sometime
this weekend, why don’t I go with you now?”

I smiled. “Why don’t you?”

He raised his arm in a victory gesture and I laughed. I don’t know how he did it,
but I always felt happier when he was around.

He went inside his place to grab his wallet, shoes, and a jacket, and was back outside
in seconds, locking his door and bounding down the stairs.

I met him at the gate and he grabbed my hand. “This feels like an adventure.”

“It will be—I promise.”

We took my truck because I’d be able to fit more bags of soil and plants in the back.

I drove east to Highway 101 and then headed north.

“I’ve never been to the nursery out here,” he said. “Haven’t had any reason to yet.
I guess once I move, I’ll want to get into landscaping.”

“You’ll love this place.”

“Maybe they’ll help me out. I like the look of lots of plants around the yard, but
I’d rather pay someone else to do it for me.” He glanced over at me. “I know I sound
like a lazy slug with my first-world problems.”

I laughed. “I’m not judging. If you don’t love gardening, you shouldn’t do it. The
reason I do it is because I love it.”

“And I love watching you in the garden,” he said, reaching over and squeezing my hand.

I felt myself blushing. “You’re sweet.”

“No, I’m not. I told you I’m a slug.”

“And lazy,” I reminded him. “Don’t forget lazy.”

He laughed and I grinned at the sound of it.

We chatted for six more miles, until I turned off the highway and wound my way up
the hill to the Gardens. I parked the truck, but before Mac could open his door, I
grabbed his arm. “I should tell you, I have an ulterior motive for coming here today.”

“Excellent,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Tell me all about it.”

I gave him a quick explanation of what had happened at the school when Mr. Jones got
the call from Denise about the police arriving to interrogate her.

“So her family owns this nursery?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to grill Denise if she’s here.”

“I’ll hardly be grilling her,” I said, objecting to the word
grill
even though, okay, it was fairly accurate. “We’ll just talk.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” he said. “It’ll be fun to watch either way.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll probably end up saying nothing.”

“Whatever happens, I’ll follow your lead.” With a wink, he jumped out of the truck.
“Wow. Great view from up here.”

It was true, and I rarely stopped to notice. Now I took a long moment to gaze at the
coastline spread out before us. The lighthouse was in plain view, of course, but I
could also see the dark red roof of the mansion next door.

“What’s that pagoda-looking thing over there?” he asked, pointing toward a small structure
with an Asian-style roofline a mile or so down the highway.

“It’s a Chinese temple and museum, one of the oldest buildings in the county. It was
built by a group of Chinese immigrants who constructed the railroads during the gold
rush.”

“For real? Is it open to the public?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ve got to go there.”

“You should. It’s a peaceful place. And really tiny.”

“So much to see.” He gestured toward the nursery entrance. “Let’s go check things
out.”

“Let’s.”

He pushed open the wide wooden gate and let me lead the way into a tangled, rambling
garden of beautiful colors and amazing plants. The nursery meandered up the hillside
and stretched out over ten acres. There were hidden ponds and a babbling brook or
two along the way.

“Oh, man. This place is cool,” he said. “I like the way everything seems overgrown
and the plants blend into one another.”

“It looks overgrown, but it’s actually well planned. Each plant complements the one
next to it. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“I would love to look at something like this every day.”

“You could hire one of their landscapers to design your new property.”

“I just might do that.” He turned his head one way and the other, checking out everything.

Twenty feet inside the gate, we came to a stop and stared at three different pathways.
I turned to him. “Which way do you want to go?”

He grinned. “This really is an adventure. Let’s go this way.”

We headed off to the left, and a few hundred yards later found ourselves in the middle
of a wild English garden. Slender foxglove and gladioli wavered in the slight breeze.
Yellow bearded irises contrasted with graceful stalks of blue delphiniums and fat
pink peonies. In the middle of it all was a brass sundial surrounded by lavender and
rosemary.

Twenty yards farther along the path, a jumble of rocks had been pressed together to
create the semblance of a terraced hillside. Moss-covered stone steps led up to a
koi pond. Beyond the pond, hedgerows separated this area from one of the other gardens.

“I kind of want to live here,” Mac said. “It’s like some sort of hippie fantasy land.”

“Next time we come, we’ll take the path that runs along the creek. It feeds into a
lily pond, and you would swear you’re in a fairy tale.”

“
The Frog Prince
?”

“That’s the one,” I said with a laugh. “I always expect to see a big, fat toad hop
up and start talking.”

We strolled for another few minutes.

“Why are there three separate paths?” he asked.

“They each showcase different types of plants and flowers. For instance, closer to
the pond, there are grasses and tropical plants. The third path features a lot of
cacti and succulents. It’s got a real Zen feeling to it.”

We walked in silence for a few minutes. Mac stopped to look at a statue of Buddha
perched in the middle of a verdant mound surrounded by ferns and cyclamen.

“I get a lot of inspiration when I come here,” I said.

He nodded. “I can see why.”

We rounded a small copse of bay laurel trees and I grabbed his arm to stop him, pointing
toward the woman digging up a withered azalea a few yards ahead.

“That’s Denise,” I whispered.

“Go for it,” he murmured.

I didn’t know why I was so nervous. Probably because I had no plan and no idea what
to say. I took a deep breath and tried to school my features, whatever that meant.
“Hi, Denise.”

She whipped around, clutching her shovel, until she recognized me. “Oh. Hi, Shannon.
You snuck up on me.” She chuckled self-consciously and added, “I haven’t seen you
in ages.”

“I know. I was here a few weeks ago, but it must’ve been your day off.”

“Probably. I do get them once in a blue moon.” She pulled off the Australian-bush-style
canvas sun hat she was wearing and brushed a few strands of her light brown hair off
her face. “Everything going okay with you?”

I shrugged. “It’s been a weird week.”

“You’re telling me.” She seemed to brace herself as she gripped the long handle of
her shovel. “I heard you were at the mansion when they found Lily.”

“Yeah. It was pretty bad.” I glanced at Mac. “This is Mac Sullivan. He’s the one who
bought the lighthouse mansion.”

“Nice to meet you. I’ve read all your books.”

“I appreciate it, thanks. Nice to meet you, too.”

She pulled off her right glove, wiped her hand on her jeans, and reached over to shake
his hand. “Sorry if I got dirt on you.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he said. “Your garden is fantastic.”

She beamed a smile. “Thank you. We love it.”

“So, I guess you’ve talked to the police,” I said, plunging forward.

“Yeah.” She shook her head, looking a little dazed. “Not a fun experience.”

“I know what you mean,” I said. “No matter how innocent you are, their mere presence
makes you wonder if you did something wrong.”

“That’s exactly how I felt.” She chuckled ruefully and added, “You would know about
that, I guess.”

She was referring to my recent involvement in several murders and Eric’s suspicions
about me. And while I hated to think about those circumstances, I was willing to use
them to get Denise to talk. “I know all about it. But the police would never suspect
you.”

“Right. Chief Jensen said I could be a lot of help to him, so I just tried to think
back to that time and told him everything I could remember.”

“I talked to him, too. All I could remember about Lily was that you and she were such
good friends. She was lucky to have you.”