Reap a Wicked Harvest (8 page)

Read Reap a Wicked Harvest Online

Authors: Janis Harrison

BOOK: Reap a Wicked Harvest
8.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
When she took a breather, I said, “This water feels heavenly.”
She grabbed a raft and floated out to me. “While I was swimming laps, what were you thinking about?”
“Bailey. By now he's miles and miles away.”
“Yeah. I miss Dan, too. There's something about being in the water that makes me yearn for a little belly rubbing.”
“Natalie!” I laughed, splashing water at her. “I can't believe you said that.”
She cupped a handful of water and let it trickle over her bare arm. “Don't you just love the feel of water on your skin?”
“Yeah, especially after a hot day like this.” But she had reminded me of something. I lowered my voice. “Since we're divulging secrets, I've got one.”
All ears, Natalie turned to me. “What's that?”
“You know how smooth and cool gelatin feels on your tongue? Well, I've always had this fantasy to romp in Jell-O.”
Natalie's head shot up like a turtle's. “You've got to be kidding.
It would be cold and slimy.” She grew thoughtful. “What flavor?”
Carl had known that I dreamed about a raspberry romp, but I didn't share that element of my fantasy with Natalie. I giggled self-consciously. “Does it matter?”
We were laughing and splashing when tires crunched on the gravel. “Who's that?” I asked, peering at the fence.
“I'll go see.” Natalie climbed out and slipped and slid across the tiles that surrounded the pool. Peeking through a crack in the boards, she said, “It's Uncle Donovan and Emily.”
“I'm getting out,” I said, already paddling for the ladder. “I look like hell in a swimming suit.”
“They won't care,” protested Natalie.
“Well, I do.” I climbed out and wrapped a giant towel around my waist.
“The front door is locked,” she said. “After I let them in, I'll bring back our steaks. While they cook, we can visit out here.”
I was rubbing the moisture from my hair when Emily and Donovan came out the study doors. Yesterday when I'd seen Emily, she'd been a frazzled medic, tending minor injuries. Today she looked more like herself, with her dark hair swinging free about her shoulders. She wore a pair of white slacks and a red knit top.
While I'd caught a glimpse of Donovan on Saturday evening, I hadn't spoken with him in months. For sixty-two, he was a fine-looking man who fancied western wear. The price of his lizard-skin boots would have paid my electric bill for a month. He'd shed some pounds and toned his muscles. His hair was silver, his eyes a startling shade of blue. He was Natalie's blood kin, but there wasn't an iota of resemblance between them. He'd been the major investor when Dan had expanded
the present greenhouse operation, and had accepted the position of vice president, in charge of whatever needed to be done.
“Bretta,” he said, extending his hand. “I'm glad you're here with Natalie. I've been worried about her. I called several times today, but either no one answered or the line was busy. She tells me you're staying with her. That's a load off my mind.”
I shook his hand and nodded. “It'll be a mini-vacation, swimming and eating Natalie's cooking.”
Emily smiled. “I smelled the grill as we drove up. We're crashing your party.”
Natalie came out the doors carrying a plate with two huge steaks. “We're hardly in the partying mood, Em.”
Emily sighed. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean—” She stopped, unsure what to say.
To cover the awkward moment, I took her arm and moved over to a couple of chairs. “I heard your public service announcement on the radio last week.”
She chuckled self-consciously. “It wasn't my idea. I was nervous, but it came off pretty well. My supervisor thought I might reach more people if they heard my voice.”
“You sounded very sympathetic. If I had a problem, I'd come to you.”
Emily smiled. “Thanks. It's not easy educating the public. Men are the most difficult to persuade that they aren't invincible.”
Emily was a counselor at the Spencer County Healthcare Center. I'd attended one of her seminars on lowering cholesterol. “What kind of questions do you get?”
She settled back in the chair and crossed her legs. “I got a real doozy last week. A woman said her herbalist had prescribed garlic tablets, but they made her breath stink. She
didn't want to waste the pills, so she wondered if she could crush them and use them in her spaghetti sauce.”
Emily paused for our laughter before continuing. “That was a silly example. Most of what I get is serious. The woman who's found a lump in her breast, but is afraid to have it checked. The man who loves his wife, but can't tell her he has an impotency problem. Most people are afraid or embarrassed to see their own doctor.”
Donovan had come to stand behind Emily. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down and brushed her cheek with his lips. Looking up at us, he said, “As you can see, my wife takes her work very seriously.”
Emily frowned. “No more than you do. We're here because of
your
work.”
I sensed a bit of tension between them and wondered if there was a power struggle going on as to whose job was more important. Emily was Donovan's second wife. His first wife had been a stay-at-home mom. He'd been a rodeo announcer, keeping long hours, traveling around the country. Left alone, Donovan's first wife had found she had more in common with her next-door neighbor, a house husband.
Natalie forked the slabs of meat, making them sizzle as fat dripped onto the hot coals. In a crabby tone, she said, “I suppose you're here to talk about Marnie. I'd hoped to have a nice quiet meal.”
“We can have this discussion after you've eaten,” said Donovan. “But we
will
have it.”
She waved the long-handled fork. “Let's hear what you've got to say.”
Donovan's eyes narrowed at her tone. “I'm not the enemy, Natalie. All this publicity about the greenhouse can't be good for business.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I know, but what are we going to do about it?”
“That's why I'm here. Dan has all he can cope with in Oregon. It's up to you and me to make some decisions. What I propose is that we hire a private firm to investigate Marnie's murder.”
I quickly spoke up. “But the sheriff is spearheading the case.
Donovan shrugged. “I see his campaign posters all over town. Is he giving his all to solving this murder? I don't think so. That's why I've contacted this new detective agency.” He pulled a business card from his pocket. “I found this last night on the windshield of my car. An hour ago, I talked to the old gentleman. Hiring him seems a viable solution.”
I closed my eyes wearily. Old gentleman, indeed. It could only be my father.
I didn't sleep well that night though my hostess had seen to my every need. I'd dined on grilled steak, a baked potato, and crisp salad followed by strawberry shortcake. My room was peaceful. The bed was comfortable, the sheets faintly scented with lavender. I had everything necessary for a restful night, but I couldn't sleep.
Knowing how I felt about his detective agency idea, my father hadn't put my name on his business cards. Donovan had been amazed to learn of my connection to the “old gentleman.” He'd called my house, just moments after Natalie and I left, to make an appointment with my father at a local restaurant. They'd discussed the case, but not once had my father mentioned that I was his daughter.
When I enlightened Donovan about my father's omission, Donovan was annoyed. He wanted to be made aware of all facts, and if my father had neglected to mention this glaring detail, then perhaps he wasn't the man for the job.
Natalie had pointed out that I was already involved, and the subject was dropped. I knew my father would be crushed, but it was better to have his feelings hurt than for him to suffer physical pain because he'd gotten in over his head.
My thoughts kept me awake well into the wee hours before weariness kicked in and I slept. I don't set an alarm. My inner
clock usually tells me when it's time to get up, but instead of waking at my regular hour, I dozed on. When I finally opened my eyes, bright sunshine highlighted the room.
A glance at the clock on the nightstand brought me out of bed in a hurry. Eight-thirty! The flower shop opened at nine, and I still had to dress and make the twenty-minute drive into River City.
Grumbling under my breath, I jumped into a green split skirt, added a white top, and slipped my feet into a pair of white sandals. As I combed my hair I went into the hall and dialed the shop. After three rings, Lois picked up the receiver.
“The Flower Shop,” she said in a nasal tone.
“Hi. It's me. Sounds like you still have a sinus problem.”
“It's getting better. At least I can stand up without getting dizzy.”
“I'm gonna be late. I overslept.”
“Looks like a quiet day, so take your time. From what I read in yesterday's paper, you had a tragic experience on Saturday. Are you okay?”
“I'm fine. I'll fill you in when I get to the shop. See you as soon as I can.”
I hung up and went into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Fifteen minutes later, I was perfumed, powdered, and prepared for my workday. I galloped down the stairs with my handbag flopping against my hip.
Taking a moment, I stuck my head around the kitchen doorway. Natalie was seated at the table picking at a fried egg. She looked like hell. Her hair was matted on one side. She hadn't dressed but wore an old nightgown that had been washed so many times the print was faded and the lace frayed at the neckline.
“I'm late,” I said. “I have to go.”
Natalie frowned. “Since you weren't up at the crack of dawn, I thought you were going to spend the day with me.”
“I can't. I have to get to work. But I'll be back after five. Okay?”
Dispirited, she nodded and bent over her plate.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “But you said you would be okay during the day.”
She glanced up and gave me a weak grin. “Go. See you later.”
I hesitated for another second, then sprinted for the front door. I felt guilty for leaving her, but there wasn't anything I could do. Once I got to the flower shop and saw how the day might go, I could possibly leave early, but I didn't tell Natalie that. No sense getting her hopes up.
I stepped outside where the air was already hot and humid. I got in my SUV and fired up the engine. Driving down the lane, I saw a couple of deputies having coffee. I waved and zoomed by.
There was no need to speed, since Lois had the flower shop covered, but I didn't waste time on the trip into town. I'm a creature of habit. I like to be at work early so I can enjoy a cup of coffee and ease into the day. Today my routine had been disturbed, and I was out of sorts.
Coming up behind a slow-moving vehicle, I swung out to pass. A car was headed my way. I had plenty of time to get back into my lane, but the experience left me huddled behind the steering wheel, my hands shaking.
“Slow down,” I said under my breath. “Relax.”
Just to prove I could deviate from my routine without going manic, I decided to stop for doughnuts. Merry's Delights was located eight blocks from the flower shop and made fantastic apple fritters. I rarely indulged, but this morning I had the urge
to sink my teeth into a confection dredged in cinnamon and gooey icing. No slots were available out front, so I parked in the alley. I walked around the building and met Irma coming out of Merry's front door.
She hefted a big pastry box when she saw me. “I left you a few goodies inside, but not many. I figure morale will be low this morning at the greenhouse. Maybe something special for break will help raise spirits.”
Irma had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair didn't have its usual crested wave of bangs.
She would have walked on to her car, but I touched her lightly on the arm. “Food is a panacea for all that ails,” I said. “I'm here for the same reason, but I don't think doughnuts will erase the murder from either of our minds. Marnie was a sweet young lady, but she was curious, asking questions all the time. Did you notice that about her?”
A wary look crossed Irma's face. “I heard you were staying with Natalie. With your reputation, I told Har—” She stopped and quickly amended, “I told Harman, my—uh—cat that you'd be nosing around.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Your
cat
is interested in what I do?” I shook my head. “I'd more likely say it was Harley.” Putting a note of understanding in my voice, I said, “It's only natural that two … uh … coworkers would discuss what happened. What was your conclusion?”
Irma's cheeks were red and her tone flustered. “I was told by the sheriff not to discuss the case, but I keep thinking that maybe Marnie had a stalker.” She looked up and down the street. In an undertone, she added, “You didn't hear that from me and if you say I said it, I'll deny it.” She marched off and got into her car.
Astonished, I watched Irma drive off. A stalker? I thought of Eugene and his quick temper. I'd never seen that side of him. Uneasy with my thoughts, I walked into Merry's. The place was hopping with morning coffee drinkers and people searching for a sugar rush to jump-start their bodies. I stood in line, but my lust for sweets was gone.
Had someone been bothering Marnie? Why hadn't Sid said anything about that? Did he even know? When it was my turn, I made my choices and returned to my vehicle carrying a bag of assorted goodies.
I was only eight blocks from the flower shop. With traffic heavy, I decided to use the alley instead of getting back on the street. It wasn't a scenic route by any means. Delivery trucks had broken up the asphalt, leaving potholes that slowed me down. Trash cans and Dumpsters hadn't been emptied yet. The smelly debris added to the sinister aspect of the unkempt, weed-infested lane.
A block from my shop, an old lady hobbled toward me, taking more than her fair share of the confined space. I pulled over as far as I could. The woman's head was down. Her scuffed boots shuffled the dirt in a listless manner. Her hair was wispy and gray. She was of average height but as plump as a toad, her bulk draped in a floral-printed muumuu.
In my red SUV, I wasn't difficult to see, but she kept her gaze on the ground. I had gotten over as far as I could and had come to a full stop. If she didn't look up soon, she'd ram her nose into the hood of my car. I figured it would startle her, but I tapped my horn gently. The sound didn't phase her. She plodded on a course that would surely bring her injury.
I put the gearshift into park and stepped out. “Ma'am,” I called. “Hello!”
She was perhaps twenty feet from me. At the sound of my voice, she stopped. Slowly she raised her head. Startled, I sucked in a breath. Her face was covered with warts. Her nose hooked like the beak of a bird. Her eyes were sunk deep in their sockets and barely visible.
I was ashamed to stare, but then it occurred to me that no one could be this hideous. She limped to the side of the alley and flung out her arm, indicating that I was to pass. I got back into my vehicle and closed the door. I engaged the transmission and let the engine idle me forward.
As I passed her, I glanced out my window. From this vantage point, I saw I'd been looking at a rubber mask. She raised a large hand that was covered with a white glove smeared with a reddish brown stain. In a playful manner she twiddled her fingers at me, then spun on her heel. I twisted around in my seat and watched her flee down the alley like a bat out of hell. In a few seconds she was out of sight.
Spooked, I gripped the steering wheel and stomped on the gas pedal. I slowed down only when I came to my parking space at the back of the flower shop. I slid to a stop and killed the engine. Grabbing the bag of pastry, I leaped out and ran up the steps. Breathing hard I flung open the back door and slammed it, twisting the lock for good measure. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves then headed for the workroom.
“You guys won't believe what just happened,” I said coming through the doorway. My voice dwindled away. Lois, my designer, and Lew, my deliveryman, stood at the front counter. They both turned and stared at me. Their faces were pale, their eyes wide with shock.
I put the bag of doughnuts on a table. “What's wrong?”
In unison they pointed to the front of the store. From here I
had an unhindered view of the front showroom. My shop is narrow but deep, the entry door squarely in the middle with a display window on each side. Both plate-glass panels were shattered. A crowd had gathered on the sidewalk.
On wobbly legs I made the journey past the worktables, past the counter, past the front cooler. I stopped about midway down the room. “Have you called the police?” I asked.
Lois said, “Yes. They're sending someone immediately.”
I nodded and looked over the destruction. Two bricks lay on the floor, their reddish brown color almost blending with the carpet. I stared at the bricks for a moment then went to a worktable and grabbed a white towel.
“What are you doing?” asked Lois.
Lew chimed in. “Shouldn't you leave things alone until the police arrive?”
“I'm not going to disturb anything,” I said. I bent down and rubbed the white cloth across the surface of the brick. I stood up and turned the cloth toward the light.
The residue was an exact match to the smear of color on the old woman's white gloves. Remembering how fast she'd run away, I knew she hadn't been old, and who's to say she was even female? Under that garb she could have been anyone.
A lump of fear twisted my gut as I revised my thoughts—not just anyone. The need for a head-to-toe disguise meant that I'd recognize the person who'd done this. In fact, chances were I'd probably talked to him or her in the last couple days.
 
It was after two in the afternoon before the excitement tapered off. I had to deal with the law, my insurance company, and a glass installation business that couldn't get to my windows for another day. This delay initiated the need for a repairman to
nail sheets of plywood over the gaping holes, which in turn meant that we had to post a sign outside that said: YES! WE ARE OPEN FOR BUSINESS!
The broken glass was picked up, the carpet vacuumed. Silk arrangements and plants were examined for shards. My back-to-school window decorations had been obliterated. I'd fashioned an apple, the size of a bushel basket, out of Styrofoam packing peanuts squashed into a trash bag, and covered it with crushed red velvet material. Splinters of glass had sliced the velvet fabric, allowing the peanuts to slither from the slits like white maggots feasting on a piece of decayed fruit. My display had taken a day to construct. It took two minutes to toss into the trash.

Other books

Desire Me More by Tiffany Clare
El Mundo de Sofía by Jostein Gaarder
Necrocide by Jonathan Davison
Floating Worlds by Cecelia Holland, Cecelia Holland
Giant George by Dave Nasser and Lynne Barrett-Lee
Lonely Hearts by Heidi Cullinan
Sherlock Holmes by George Mann
Cricket by Anna Martin
Dead Man's Ransom by Ellis Peters