Green Living Can Be Deadly (A Blossom Valley Mystery) (22 page)

 

I sidestepped a line of ducks headed for the pond out front, wondering about the motive for Preston’s murder. Maybe the killer, either Lily or someone else, only
assumed
Preston knew something he shouldn’t. That would make identifying the culprit almost impossible, but I felt confident that whoever killed Wendy was responsible for Preston’s death as well.

Shoving these thoughts from my mind, I stopped at the office to stick the envelope full of money into my purse, type up the morning’s blog, and post an update on Facebook. I then placed a call to Detective Palmer to let him know about Lily’s anger management issues. He didn’t answer, so I left a detailed message. He might need that information for the murder investigation. After I ended the call, I went to the lobby to see if Gordon had gotten feedback on the festival yet.

He was typing on the computer, referring to his clipboard from time to time. His dark suit and striped tie added a touch of formality to the casual lobby. He held up one finger to indicate he’d be done in a moment. I straightened the brochures on the coffee table, plucked dead leaves off the ficus, and watched out the window as the ducks slid into the pond.

When Gordon cleared his throat, I swung around to face him and asked, “Have any vendors returned their comment cards for the festival?”

He reached under the counter and pulled out a stack of papers. “Most have, and the majority was positive. They liked the selection of vendors, the advertising, and the location.”

“What about the negative comments?”

He shuffled through the stack. “They had the opposite opinion. Complained there wasn’t enough advertising, the location was limited, and some of the vendors shouldn’t have been included. One guy said he was disgusted to see a man peddling dog poop.”

I laughed. “Yeah, Helen, a woman from Invisible Prints, said the same thing. We might need to deny that guy access next year.”

“Speaking of next year, let’s plan to hold the festival again. If we make the event big enough, even more people from out of town will visit, and they’ll need a place to stay.”

“Great. I’ll work with the committee to come up with some new ideas for expansion.”

Gordon straightened his tie. “I’m sure you will.”

I stared. That was at least two votes of confidence this week. I could really get used to this new Gordon.

He resumed his work, and I saw him frowning at whatever he was reading on his clipboard. “‘Gooey duck,’” he muttered under his breath. “What on earth is ‘gooey duck’?”

“It’s a clam,” I volunteered. “Zennia made a clam dish for the guests a few days ago.”

He jabbed the page with his index finger. “It cost how much?” he bellowed.

Uh-oh. “Zennia mentioned the gooey duck is expensive, but she really wants to draw more foodies to the spa, so she’s offering unusual dishes.”

Gordon violently twisted the ring on his pinkie. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Time for some damage control. “Have I mentioned how nice it’s been to work with you lately? You’ve been so open-minded and pleasant.”

He threw the clipboard on the floor, and I took a step back.

“Look where it’s gotten me,” he snapped. “Zennia’s buying overpriced seafood. Esther’s passing out free chocolate bars to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who shows up, and you . . .” He pointed his finger at me, and I gulped. “You ate my turkey!”

I pointed right back at him. “Not all of it. And I offered to buy you a new package.”

Gordon threw a pen on the floor. It landed near the clipboard. He paced behind the counter. “I knew that instructor at the management seminar was full of it. He said I should be more trusting of my employees. He said that if I’d back off, you guys would excel at your positions. But have you?
No!
”

I started to defend myself, but he wasn’t done. “You didn’t even ask me about those stupid oinking pens you handed out at the festival. I’m surprised we’re not bankrupt the way everyone around here spends money.”

Gordon paused for breath, but I knew his ranting could last all day. Suppressing a smile at his antics, I hurried down the hall before he threw the computer monitor.

Esther and Zennia sat at the kitchen table, hunched over an open cookbook. They looked up as I entered.

“The jig’s up,” I said. “Gordon’s back to his old management style. You know, the one where he yells at everyone.”

“Oh, dear,” Esther said.

“And here I was starting to like the new Gordon,” Zennia said. “His aura was such a healthy color.”

“Well, his aura is a solid black now. Just so you know, that gooey duck helped send him over the edge.”

Zennia closed the cookbook and slid it on the shelf with the others. “Better make myself scarce for a while. Think I’ll run into town for supplies.” She grabbed her sweater and disappeared out the back door.

Esther rose and tugged down her denim shirt. “I suppose I should talk to Gordon. See if I can soothe his ruffled feathers.” She walked toward the lobby.

Alone in the kitchen, I listened to the ticking of the rooster clock. My stomach growled. Driving home for lunch was a waste of gas, and stopping for fast food was a waste of money, especially since I needed to pay rent now. Instead, I rummaged around the pantry until I came up with a can of line-caught tuna and a box of whole wheat crackers. I added green onions and a small dab of Zennia’s homemade tofu mayonnaise to the tuna before smearing it on a cracker. Not the most delicious lunch, but it’d get me through the day.

After I’d eaten, I cleaned up the kitchen and headed out back to see if Gretchen needed any help. The temperature had dropped in the last hour. Dark clouds hovered on the horizon. A blue jay squawked in the redwood tree.

I heard shoes crunch on the gravel and looked over to see Jason approaching. I felt a rush of pleasure at the sight of him, quickly replaced by concern. He rarely visited me at work.

When he reached me, I took his hand, noticing how warm his long fingers were. “Jason, is everything okay?”

“Can’t a guy surprise his girl at work?” He planted a kiss on my lips and it sent a sizzle down to my toes.

When we broke our lip lock, I gave him a goofy grin. “You can surprise me like that anytime you want. Every day, in fact.”

Jason chuckled. “I just might.”

We settled at one of the picnic tables, and I rested my elbows on the wood surface. “Have your parents gone home?” I asked. “You mentioned they’d be leaving.”

“Left this morning. By the way, my mom adores you. Says you’re so polite and well-grounded.”

I practically glowed at the compliment. “She couldn’t have been nicer to me. I wish I hadn’t let my own insecurities get the better of me. I would have enjoyed their visit more.”

“Don’t worry. Every time I see them, I feel like I’m twelve years old again.”

“Funny how moms have that effect on their kids.” I traced a groove in the surface of the redwood table and picked at a sliver that stuck out. “Any news on the murders?”

Jason gave me a crooked smile. “Here I thought we were having a pleasant conversation about mothers.”

“We were. Now I’m ready to talk about murder. A total coincidence, by the way.” It was Ashlee, not my mom, who usually led me to thoughts of murder.

“I do have some news,” he said. “Detective Palmer said they’re closing in on the killer.”

I straightened up in anticipation. Was this madness about to end?

Then why didn’t Jason look happy?

 

Jason’s serious expression curbed my elation as questions flew out of my mouth. “The police have identified the killer? Do you know who it is?”

He shook his head. “No. Detective Palmer won’t release the name until they have enough evidence. The DA would refuse to press charges with what the cops have right now.”

“Did Detective Palmer give you any indication about who it might be, or at least if it was a man or a woman?”

“Not a clue. You know how tight-lipped he can be. But he’s confident they have the right person in their sights.”

I broke off the wood sliver I’d been fiddling with and dropped it on the patio. “How infuriating. I can’t imagine being a cop and watching someone I knew was a killer walk around, free as anybody.”

“They’ll get him.”

“The sooner, the better.”

We chatted for a few more minutes before Jason kissed me again and walked to his car. I watched over the hedge as he climbed into his Volvo. My warm feelings for him intermingled with my frustration over the police being unable to make an arrest. At last, I rose and stretched. Time to get back to work.

 

 

The rest of the day passed quickly as I hammered out more details for my marketing project. As I was approaching the end of the day, my cell phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and checked the caller ID. Kimmie. What did she want?

“Hello,” I said.

“Dana, it’s Kimmie. I still haven’t received those status reports from you. I feel completely in the dark on this whole Wendy thing.”

Considering I was the only one of us working on Wendy’s murder, I wasn’t surprised. “I’m making progress,” I said. “How about you?”

“I haven’t had time, but I thought we could meet at Le Poêlon tonight. You could give me the details in person, instead of typing everything up.”

I glanced out the window and watched where the afternoon clouds had continued to move in. The air held the threat of rain. Did I want to risk driving to Mendocino during a storm? “Would this meeting include a meal?”

Kimmie sighed. “I suppose feeding you is the least I can do. Even though you’re not sending me updates, I know you’ve spent a lot of time talking to Wendy’s associates.”

Kimmie was finally acknowledging my efforts. And I’d get to try her food, too. That was definitely worth getting stuck in a deluge for. “How does seven work?”

“Make it eight. See you then.” She clicked off.

As usual, Kimmie had the last word.

I finished up the day’s work and drove home. I found a note on the kitchen table from Mom, letting me know she was out with Lane. I had no idea where Ashlee was, though odds were good she was on a date as well.

I watched television for a while, then went to my room and dressed for dinner in dark jeans, a drape-front white blouse, and boots. With my purse and keys in hand, I locked the front door on my way out. The first raindrops began to fall as I reached the driveway. Great.

Once at my car, I got inside and slammed the door before I got any wetter. Then I started up the engine and flicked on the wipers and headlights. The wipers made a squeaking sound as I drove through town, but at least traffic was light. People were probably settling onto their couches for the evening, not driving through a rainstorm on a twisting road for a free meal. But talking to Kimmie might shake a few ideas loose in my head.

I merged onto the highway and sped down the road, slowing as I reached the first curves. The dark pavement blended into the night. The white fog line was barely visible. At least the towering redwoods provided some cover from the rain.

As I eased around a curve, headlights from an oncoming car blinded me. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if the car was in his lane or mine, and all I could do was send up a quick prayer. The car whizzed past, and I slowed down even further, wondering again what the heck I was doing.

By the time I came out of the trees, my hands were cramped from gripping the steering wheel, and my face hurt from clenching my jaw. I reached the intersection with Highway 1 and loosened my hold on the wheel, glad to be on a straight stretch of road. The parking lot to Le Poêlon was jammed with cars, but I managed to squeeze my Honda between an oversized SUV and a four-door sedan. I held my purse over my head as I ran for the entrance.

Inside the restaurant, I stopped at the hostess stand. A stylish young woman with platinum-blond hair cut short, and an impossibly thin body, looked down her nose at me. “Do you have a reservation?” Her cool tone implied she already knew I didn’t.

Before I could answer, Kimmie swept in from the opposite direction. “She’s with me.”

The hostess immediately switched from condescending to acquiescent. “Of course, Mrs. Wheeler.”

Kimmie grabbed my hand and led me through the dining room, winding past a series of small tables pushed close together. At last, we reached a table for two next to the swinging door, back where servers brought food from the kitchen. I smirked. Not the best table in the place, but at least she wasn’t making me eat
in
the kitchen.

As I sat down, a waiter appeared so fast, I was almost convinced he materialized right there at our table. He started to offer me a menu, but Kimmie waved it away.

“We’re famous for our seared scallops,” she told me.

“Sounds delicious,” I said.

Kimmie tilted her head. “I suppose you’ll want something to drink, too. A glass of chardonnay, perhaps?”

“Just iced tea, thanks.” No way was I ordering alcohol when I had to drive home in this weather.

The waiter disappeared as fast as he’d appeared, and Kimmie leaned forward. “I’ve got ten minutes. Is that enough time to fill me in?”

I unrolled my silverware and placed my napkin in my lap. “I’ll try. Earlier today, I found out that Lily was the one who broke the windows at Invisible Prints. She also scratched up my car. Did I tell you about that?”

Kimmie drew her head back. “No, but she sounds crazy.”

“She definitely has problems with her temper, which makes me wonder if she flipped when she found out about the missing money and killed Wendy on the spot. I don’t know why she would have killed Preston, though.”

“If she’s nuts, maybe she didn’t have a reason.”

I looked down at my hands. How sad if Preston had been murdered for no reason. Kimmie was watching me, so I continued. “I also discovered that Drew and Kurt are dating. Kurt convinced Drew to get a job at Invisible Prints and spy on his sister. Once Drew found out Wendy had stolen the money, she reported it to Marvin. I can’t imagine Kurt would kill Wendy before he witnessed the fallout. And Drew barely knew Wendy. It’s possible that Wendy discovered Drew had blown the whistle on the embezzlement and confronted her about it that morning at the festival. Drew could have waited until Wendy was alone and killed her, but that scenario doesn’t make much sense. As for Helen, it turns out that she had already discovered the missing money, but she was keeping quiet until she could line up another job. Maybe Wendy was feeling guilty about stealing the money and was going to confess, and Helen killed her to keep her quiet, hoping the missing money wouldn’t be noticed right away. But thanks to Drew, Marvin found out about it anyway.”

“Wow, you’ve really learned a lot.” Kimmie used one long nail to scratch at a speck on the tablecloth. “I can’t believe the police haven’t solved this case. Why do I even pay my taxes if I can’t expect better service?”

I almost told Kimmie about the police identifying a solid suspect, but I decided against it. Jason had told me that in confidence, and I’d already slipped up once before when speaking with Preston. Instead, I said, “It’s only a matter of time.”

She checked her watch. “Speaking of time, I keep meaning to stop by Invisible Prints, but I’ve been too busy. Wendy and I had tickets to a very exclusive fund-raiser tomorrow night. Everyone who’s anyone will be there. The tickets are in her office, but that place is creepy, and I don’t want to pick them up alone. Can you go with me?”

“You want to go now? No one will be there this late. How would we get in?”

“Wendy gave me a spare key, remember?”

My two earlier visits to Invisible Prints had both been brief, and I’d learned little. Surely, Wendy’s office held some information. “Count me in.”

A sizzle announced the arrival of my scallops, accompanied by the mouthwatering scent of herbs and butter. As the waiter set the plate on the table, Kimmie rose. “We’ll leave when you’re done eating. In the meantime, I have work to do.”

I picked up my fork, ready to dive into the scallops. With the invitation to poke around Invisible Prints, I had to lecture myself to eat slowly and savor the meal. Still, I was anxious to get to the office. The police lacked the evidence right now, but maybe the killer had made a mistake. And I could find it.