Read Lilies That Fester Online
Authors: Janis Harrison
Lilies That Fester (2 page)
Alvin clicked a few keys. “Yes, ma'am, she's here.” He grinned. “See? Another worry resolved. You've got to have more faith, Bretta.”
The telephone buzzed before I could give him my personal opinion of faith versus hard work, perseverance, and plain old bullheaded stubbornness. I waved farewell and moved on, giving the lobby a sweeping glance.
A good-looking man seated on one of the sofas peered at me over the top of an open newspaper. I got the impression he'd been giving me a thorough inspection. When I turned my attention to him, he met my gaze with a direct stare before raising the paper.
The brief glance we exchanged wasn't much, but I sucked in my stomach and wondered who I was trying to impress. I didn't recognize him as a fellow florist. He was simply an attractive man sitting in the lobby, but I'd responded to him like a flower taking up water after a drought. Confused by my reaction to a total stranger, I ignored the glass elevators, opting for the stairs.
It was a long climb to the fifth floor, but I needed the exercise. At the door to my room, I slipped the plastic card into the key slot, waited for the little lights to flash from red to green, and then turned the handle. The door met with a bit of resistance before swinging open.
What I needed was a cool drink and a snack. Before I left home, I'd fortified my suitcase for just such an occasion. I hauled my bag out of the closet and flipped back the lid to reveal my cache of goodiesâdiet style.
I groaned. “What was I thinking?” Fruit and fat-free cookies when I yearned for cashews in caramel or pecans in fudge. “Stop it. Think thin. Think chic.” I savored a vision. “Chic ⦠ken fried to a crusty, golden brown.”
I passed over the apples and bananas and grabbed a peach. While munching the succulent fruit, I opened the draperies, taking care to stand a few feet away from the floor-to-ceiling window.
Haversham Hall had rounded out its tourist complex with a miniature golf course that was in the final stages of completion. The theme “The Wonders of Missouri” was played out in Lilliputian detail: a small-scale version of the St. Louis arch. From Mark Twain's
Tom Sawyer
a partially whitewashed board fence. A log cabin portrayed Laura Ingalls Wilder's
Little House on the Prairie.
A natural cave was rumored to be a real tourist treat, but it was the distant, natural view that inspired me.
Tom Sawyer
a partially whitewashed board fence. A log cabin portrayed Laura Ingalls Wilder's
Little House on the Prairie.
A natural cave was rumored to be a real tourist treat, but it was the distant, natural view that inspired me.
The Ozarks were beautiful in the springâmiles and miles of country overlaid with trees. Stark branches were budded with nubs that would soon open and flourish under the warm Missouri sun. Cedar and pine spiced the vista with hope of life everlasting. White dogwoods looked as if they'd been caught in a freaky snowstorm, their four-petaled flowers bursting into a frothy cloud of bloom. Redbuds appeared like a rosy mist, rising from the earth, spreading color to a forest of greens and browns.
In crowded spots the trees rose tall and spindly, their limbs
spaced farther and farther apart as they competed with their neighbors for room to grow. Others less pressed for space were compact; their limbs set at intervals that showed good nutrition as they maintained their correct cycle for maturity.
spaced farther and farther apart as they competed with their neighbors for room to grow. Others less pressed for space were compact; their limbs set at intervals that showed good nutrition as they maintained their correct cycle for maturity.
Breathing deeply, I allowed the true reason for this trip to surface. I'd come to Branson to get away from all that was familiar, so I could concentrate on what I wanted to do with the rest of my lifeâa life that didn't include Carl.
My flower shop in River City made me a good living and gave me an outlet for my artistry. I'd used Carl's life insurance money to buy an old mansion and was renovating it into a boardinghouse. I had friends. I had work. I had a fabulous home in the making. But I wantedânoâI needed more.
In the two years since Carl's death, I'd jumped from one project to anotherâalways busy, always working, always on the move. I gave those tall trees another speculative look. Was I like them? Trying to reach new heights by stretching myself beyond limits that weren't healthy? During the next storm would I splinter because my foundation was weak from having tried to cover too much space in too short a time?
Carl had been a deputy with the Spencer County Sheriff's Department. He'd made me privy to his investigationsâeverything from assault to murder. My interest in his job and his trust in me had cemented our marriage as a partnership. Carl had used me as his sounding board by laying out the facts of a case he was working on. We'd discuss the evidence, and I'd point out possibilities or weak links. My lips twitched. Carl hadn't always agreed with my assessmentâhe could articulate with the bestâbut after I'd been right a few times, he'd listened to my theories and publicly given me credit.
After his death, I'd been drawn into doing some amateur
sleuthing on my own, which had almost gotten me killed. Abruptly I turned from the window and tossed the half-eaten peach into the trash.
sleuthing on my own, which had almost gotten me killed. Abruptly I turned from the window and tossed the half-eaten peach into the trash.
The afternoon sunlight streamed into my room and highlighted a five-by-seven manila envelope lying on the floor by the door. I hadn't noticed it when I walked in. My mind had been on food.
Before picking up the envelope, I pushed a portion of it under the door. Tight fit, but I figured that's how it had been delivered. A note had been taped to the outside, and when I caught sight of the salutation, my eyebrows winged upward in surprise. It had been twenty-two months since anyone had referred to me as:
Mrs. Carl Solomon:
Last month my wife and I were in your shop buying flowers for our daughter's funeral. A nice lady helped us with our order because you were on the phone. We shamelessly eavesdropped on your conversation and learned that you would be in Branson this weekend for a floral convention. We've timed our trip to coincide with this event.
Your husband, Deputy Carl, was a fine man and a thoughtful officer. My wife and I live in the outer reaches of Spencer County, and when he was on patrol, he would stop in and visit with us. He often spoke of you and told us how you helped him with some of his investigations. We've since read in the River City Daily that you were instrumental in assisting the sheriff's department in solving two murders.
We don't have enough evidence to take to the authorities. You, Mrs. Solomon, are our only hope to right a terrible wrong. Please keep this envelope safe for us. If we haven't
retrieved it by 7:00 A.M. on Friday, you have our permission to open it and assess its contents.
retrieved it by 7:00 A.M. on Friday, you have our permission to open it and assess its contents.
Our highest regards,
Vincent and Mabel McDuffy
Spencer County, Missouri
Vincent and Mabel McDuffy
Spencer County, Missouri
“McDuffy?” I murmured thoughtfully. The name jingled a bell of recognition. I picked up the phone and punched in the number for the front desk. “This is Bretta Solomon in room 521. I think you're holding some messages for me from Vincent McDuffy.”
The woman's voice was cool. “The notes we have are addressed to a Mrs. Carol Salmon.”
“I know that's what it might look like, but I found another message in my room from Mr. McDuffy. I'm Mrs.
Carl Solomon
from River City, Missouri. Will you please have someone deliver those messages to me immediately? Thank you.”
Carl Solomon
from River City, Missouri. Will you please have someone deliver those messages to me immediately? Thank you.”
Carl had talked about several families he regularly saw while out on patrol. My gaze landed on the fruit in my suitcase. Peaches? Peach pie had been one of Carl's favorite desserts. I'm only a so-so cook, and a flaky crust isn't within my realm of expertise. But it seemed to me that a
Mabel McDuffy
had sated Carl's sweet tooth with slices of pie when he dropped in for a visit.
Mabel McDuffy
had sated Carl's sweet tooth with slices of pie when he dropped in for a visit.
As for their daughter's funeral service, I didn't recall a single detail. Last month had been hectic what with getting the fine points ironed out for this conference.
I was prepared with a tip and the note from Vincent when I
opened the door to the same woman who'd been at the desk with Alvin. She frowned when she saw me. “Hi,” I said cheerfully. “Sorry about the mix-up, but I didn't realize those messages were for me until I got to my room.” I held out the paper that had been taped to the envelope so she could see Vincent's writing. “It is atrocious penmanship.”
opened the door to the same woman who'd been at the desk with Alvin. She frowned when she saw me. “Hi,” I said cheerfully. “Sorry about the mix-up, but I didn't realize those messages were for me until I got to my room.” I held out the paper that had been taped to the envelope so she could see Vincent's writing. “It is atrocious penmanship.”
She saw the scrawl and visibly relaxed. “My name's Helen. Thanks for calling down. This really takes a load off my mind. The messages seemed rather urgent, and I didn't want to be responsible for not getting them to the right party.”
I took the offered slips of paper, then held out the money, but she shook her head. “No thanks. I'm just glad we got this straightened out. Mr. and Mrs. McDuffy are the sweetest people. In the last four days, they've become very special to me.”
“Four days, huh? They must be enjoying all the sights.”
She shook her head. “Nope. Most of the time they sit in the lobby or take the shuttle up the hill to the conservatory. They're a devoted couple, always holding hands. Mrs. McDuffy isn't well.” Helen leaned closer. “I think she has cancer. She wears a gray wig and is as thin as a wafer. I feel sorry for them. They lost their only child last month.”
I was amazed at the extent of her knowledge of the McDuffys. “With so many guests, how in the world do you know all this?”
“I get bored, and Mr. McDuffy likes to talk.” She gave a depreciative gesture. “I do, too. We hit it off.”
“So where are they now?”
“I'm not sure. Their names aren't on the list for the shuttle. And I know they aren't in their room. I just talked to Carolyn, who cleans their floor, and she said they weren't there. They must have left early this morning because I came to work at seven, and I didn't see them go out.”
I'd gone to the basement about 6:00 A.M. to unpack containers and get the mundane chores done so the designers could swoop in and do their thing. It must have been after six and before seven when the McDuffys pushed the envelope under my door.
I got the impression that Helen would have stayed and talked longer, but I was curious about my messages, so I cut short our visit. I waved the slips of paper. “Thanks,” I said, easing the door closed. “When I see Vincent and Mabel, I'll be sure to tell them how conscientious you were.”
As soon as the latch clicked shut, I started reading, or perhaps I should say, deciphering Vincent's handwriting. I could see how Helen had thought she was looking for a
Mrs. Carol Salmon.
Each note was headed with the greeting: Mrs. Carl Solomon.
Mrs. Carol Salmon.
Each note was headed with the greeting: Mrs. Carl Solomon.
Wednesdayâ11:00 A.M. Please contact me. I'm a guest here in the hotel.
Vincent McDuffy.
Wednesdayâ7:00 P.M. Please call our room immediately.
My wife and I need to speak with you.
My wife and I need to speak with you.
Vincent and Mabel McDuffy.
Wednesday
â
10:00 P:M. We can't wait any longer. I'm sorry our paths didn't cross, but we're placing our trust in you, based on your husband's faith.
â
10:00 P:M. We can't wait any longer. I'm sorry our paths didn't cross, but we're placing our trust in you, based on your husband's faith.
Vincent and Mabel McDuffy.
I swallowed the lump that rose in my throat and wondered what my loving husband had spilled to these people. But more importantly, what were they expecting from me?
Helen had said the couple wasn't in their room, but I needed info. I went to the phone and dialed my business in River City. While the number rang, I picked up the manila envelope. It was flat except for a hard rectangular box that might be aâ
“The Flower Shop,” answered Lois.
“Hi, it's me. Got time for a chat?”
“Yeah, if you hang on a minute.”
The receiver plunked against the counter. Background noise told me she was finishing with a customer. Lois Duncan is my top designer, but she's more than an employee. She puts up with my quirky personality and quite simplyâme.
In the last six months, I've tried Lois's patience further by my amateur sleuthing. Sid Hancock, the sheriff of Spencer County, uses a colorful array of words when he describes my active interest in the crimes of
his
county. Regardless of what Sid thinks, I've never gone looking for trouble, but I've always been more comfortable helping others with their problems than dealing with my own.
his
county. Regardless of what Sid thinks, I've never gone looking for trouble, but I've always been more comfortable helping others with their problems than dealing with my own.
“Here I am,” said Lois. “How's the vacation?”
Jerked back to the present, I gasped. “Are you kidding? Vacation? I'm working my fingers down to stubs.”
“Have you met any unattached males?”
A mental picture of the man in the lobby flashed through my mind. “No. I'm still footloose and fancy-free.”
Lois grunted. “You can put a stop to that if you'll wear your new black dress tonight. You did pack it?”
I looked across the room to the open closet door. Lois had gone shopping with me, and I'd let her talk me into buying the dressâtight skirt, nipped-in waist, and low neckline. “Yeah. It's hanging alongside that obscene nightie you hid in my suitcase.
This isn't a seduction trip. I'm here to conduct a floral contest.”
This isn't a seduction trip. I'm here to conduct a floral contest.”
“Combine business with pleasure, and you'll come home fulfilled.”
“Why do you think a man will solve my problems?” Before Lois, a happily married woman, could answer, I quickly said, “We're getting off track. I called to pick your brain.”
Lois sighed. “We've been busy so there isn't much left to scavenge.”
“Can you think back to last month? We did the funeral flowers for the daughter of Vincent and Mabel McDuffy. Do you remember waiting on them?”
“Sure. Their daughter's name was Stephanie, but they called her Steffie. She was only twenty-seven when she died.”
“What was wrong with her?”
“Heart attack.”
“At twenty-seven? That's terrible. It must not have been a big service or I'd have remembered.”
“It wasn't. At the time I commented that it was a shame such a young woman had so few flowers.”
“What do you remember about her parents?”
Lois sighed. “Bretta, I don't mind playing twenty questions, but before this conversation comes to an end, you will me tell what's going on?”
I grinned. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”
“Yeah, right. The mother, Mabel, has cancer and had been taking chemo. She looked like a scarecrow with half the stuffing knocked out. However, the father, Vincent McDuffy, was huge. They're a âJack Sprat' in reverse. Surely you remember him, as obsessed as you are with weight.”
“I'm not obsessed, just careful. You would be too if you'd
lost the equivalent of another person and still craved chocolate and fried chicken.” I touched the brown envelope beside me. “The McDuffys are here in Branson. I found a note from them under my door, and three more at the front desk.”
lost the equivalent of another person and still craved chocolate and fried chicken.” I touched the brown envelope beside me. “The McDuffys are here in Branson. I found a note from them under my door, and three more at the front desk.”
“Sounds like they're persistent. What do they want?”
“I'm not sure. Apparently when Carl was on patrol, he'd go by their house and visit. I think Mrs. McDuffy is the one who used to bake him pies.”
“That's nice, but not enlightening. What's the rest of the story?”
“I wish I knew. In one of their notes they said something about me ârighting a wrong.'”
Lois snorted. “Well, that's up your alley. Did they say what this âwrong' is?”
“No. I've been busy with conference duties, and we've missed connections.”
“How did they know you were in Branson at that particular hotel?”
After I'd explained about the eavesdropping, Lois said, “I don't like this, Bretta. Why were they listening to your plans while ordering the flowers for their daughter's funeral? Sounds pretty weird to me. I'd keep my distance if I were you.”
“I can't do that. Carl liked them, and they thought enough of Carl to trust me with this package.”
“Package? What package? You said notes.”
I laughed. “It's just an envelope with what feels like a small rectangle box inside.”
“Is it making little tick-tick sounds?”
“You watch too many movies.”
“No need for movies when I work for you. I get all the excitement I can handle.”
“Then if I need some information, you won't mind nosing around?”
“Around where? Here in town?”
“Yeah. I've got this feelingâ”
“See?” said Lois. “That's just what I mean. Your
feelings
scare ten years off of my life.”
feelings
scare ten years off of my life.”
“Don't worryâyet. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
I put the receiver back in the cradle, then reread the McDuffys' letter. My uneasiness came from their mention of my role in solving two murders. Why bring that up? Why wouldn't the McDuffys come back for the envelope? Why would I need to “assess” the contents? My fingers traced the outline of the hard rectangular box. It felt like a cassette. Had they recorded a message for me? Was I being ridiculous?
There probably wasn't any need to get worked up over what could be nothing. This was another prime example of how I get sucked into other people's problems. It was much easier to contemplate the ands, ifs, and buts of the McDuffys than it was to mull over my own situation.
I placed a call to their room. There wasn't any answer, which bothered me since they hadn't been seen all day. That was surely odd since Helen had said that for the last four days Mabel and Vincent had spent their time in the lobby or taking the shuttle up to the conservatory.
I tempered my uneasiness by telling myself that they would be by in the morning to get the envelope. However, they'd asked me to keep it safe. I looked around for a hiding place. I was usually pretty good at this kind of thing, but a hotel room offered few choices. I'd had better luck concealing the bulky notebook that held the information for the contest. My notes and the compact disc that was the “key” to the contest were
safely tucked away from prying eyes in the silver-blue casket that was on prominent display in the conference room.
safely tucked away from prying eyes in the silver-blue casket that was on prominent display in the conference room.
I'd never examined the construction of a casket until yesterday. Chloe had told us the mattress was as thin as paper. Robbee had remarked that funeral homes rarely get complaints. I'd investigated the bottom of the stainless-steel box and found a metal grid supporting the flimsy pad. The space beneath the framework made a perfect place to hide my notes, but it wouldn't work for this envelope. It had to be here in my room.
After a moment's deliberation, I dropped the package behind the armoire, where it caught on a ledge and blended with the woodwork. I'd have to get down on my hands and knees to retrieve it, but I'd done as requested.
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