Reap a Wicked Harvest (9 page)

Read Reap a Wicked Harvest Online

Authors: Janis Harrison

BOOK: Reap a Wicked Harvest
3.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Besides the work, we had well-meaning neighbors dropping by to empathize and bemoan the destructiveness of people in our small corner of the world. It all took time and energy, commodities I was lacking. My employees and I kept up a brave front, but by midafternoon we were drained.
I put a final piece of fern in the vase of roses I'd designed. “This order doesn't have to be delivered immediately,” I said. “Let's take a break.”
“I'm ready,” said Lois. She pulled up a stool and sat down. “I'm pooped.”
Usually she kept her neat appearance through any and all situations, but not today. Her dark hair hung across her damp forehead in limp strands. Her cheek had a smudge of dirt, and her blouse had come untucked from the waistband of her slacks. Tenderly, she rubbed the Band-Aid on her index finger.
I nodded to the injury. “Are you sure it's okay? Do you need to see a doctor?”
“No. I was just careless.” She raised her husky voice. “Hey,
Lew, we're taking a break. How about getting us a couple cans of soda out of the cooler?”
“Be right there,” he called. “I've got to wash up.”
I looked at the grime on my hands and sighed. “I should, too, but I don't have the energy to move.”
Lois nodded. “It's been one helluva day. According to Josh, who has the video store next door, the old woman who tossed the bricks really had a pitching arm. She sent those chucks of clay hurling—
Wham!
Front and center on each of those windows. I didn't see anything, but it sounded like someone had fired a gun. I rolled under the table. I thought we were under attack.”
Lew came into the workroom with three cans of soda. He put one in front of each of us. “We
were
under attack,” he said, pulling up a stool.
Like actors in a commercial, we settled back and popped the tabs on our sodas. With choreographed precision, we tipped the cans to our lips and took long, satisfying drinks.
Lois put her can down and burped. “Boy, that hit the spot,” she said, wiping the moisture from her lips onto the back of her hand.
Lew's expression showed his disgust. He'd worked just as hard as Lois and I, but his necktie was straight, his shirt snowy white, his trousers neatly creased. “You are so crude,” he said.
Lois narrowed her eyes and took a big gulp of her drink. This time she belched long and loud. “Now
that's
crude,” she said.
Lew was straitlaced and very proper. Lois loved to irritate and provoke him. I usually ignored them, but this time I shook my head. “Come on, guys. Cut it out.”
“He started it,” said Lois, eyeing Lew expectantly.
In a haughty tone, he said, “I will not lower myself to your level.” He turned to me. “I think we need to address our present situation, boss.”
I shrugged. “What's to discuss? The glass will be replaced tomorrow. Until then there's nothing to do. I wondered what I could give myself for my birthday. Guess I'll pay the insurance deductible and call it a fine celebration.”
“Not a fun gift, Bretta,” said Lois. “You need to splurge. Treat yourself to something special. There's a new massage parlor down on Dover. Why don't you—”
Lew stood up in such a tizzy he knocked over his stool. Waving his hands, he said, “Rubber masks. Bricks through windows. Hijinks, low blows, and dirty tricks. When I came to work here, I thought my job would be delivering flowers. Not ducking projectiles.”
Lois scoffed. “You weren't even close to getting cold-cocked.”
“It's the principle. I shouldn't have to wonder what's going to happen next.” Lew stared at me. “I read about that woman who was murdered Saturday at the Parkers'. Considering this morning's event, I have to assume you're involved up to your eyebrows, which in turn means that I am, too.”
Lew's face was red. Beads of moisture glistened on his balding head. I didn't particularly like him, but he was a good employee. He knew River City people and the streets where they lived. In a pinch he could wrap a plant, and his florist bows were well crafted. But if he was unhappy working here, I wasn't going to beg him to stay. It would be an inconvenience to replace him, but I didn't want anyone, especially an employee, dictating how I spent my free time.
I set the stool back on its legs. “I have talked to a few people about Marnie's murder. But just so you'll know, I've done it with the sheriff's approval.”
Lew snorted. “I find that difficult to believe.”
Lois nodded to the front door. “Ask him yourself.”
The front doorbell jingled. Lew whipped around to watch Sid enter the store. While the sheriff surveyed the damage to my shop, Lew turned back to me. “You saw him coming into the shop.”
“Yes. But that doesn't change the truth. I have his approval.”
Sid joined us, declined a stool, and leaned against the table. “Never a dull moment, huh?” he said to me. “Thought I'd stop by and bring you up to speed on what the investigating officer found out.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “He discovered the wig, mask, and clothes discarded in the alley. Nothing remarkable about them so there are no leads as to who it was.”
“That about sums it up except the wig and mask haven't been found. Whatever you've been doing, Bretta, has touched a nerve. I'd tell you to stop, but as long as you're careful, you just might flush out the guilty party. In the meantime, I've got my men checking to see who was absent from the greenhouses this morning.”
“Speaking of which, Irma, the greenhouse bookkeeper, told me she thinks Marnie might have had a stalker.”
Sid jerked back in surprise. “That's the first I've heard of it.” He shook his head. “I don't need more crap. I've got all I can do to investigate what's already been disclosed.” Abruptly, he turned to Lois and flashed her a winsome smile. “How are you? How's your family?”
She blinked. “Well … uh … I'm fine. They're fine.”
Sid turned to Lew. His tone was solicitous as he asked, “And you, sir? I hope your mother's health is good.”
Lew mumbled a reply, but I could see he was mulling over Sid's courteous demeanor. Suddenly Lew's spine grew rigid.
His skin flushed a rosier pink. “Bretta,” said Lew. “Sheriff Hancock is using you.”
I nodded in a resigned fashion. “Yeah. That's the general consensus.
Lew shook his head in disbelief. “I can't believe you'd allow such a thing.” He grabbed the vase of roses off my worktable. “Political claptrap. Campaign twaddle. Bah! I'm out of here. This place reeks of insincerity and hypocrisy.”
“But you
will
be back tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yes,” Lew said piously. “Someone has to lend a touch of sanity to this loony bin.”
He slammed the back door just as my father marched in the front. Sid pushed away from the table. “Well,” he said, “here comes my cue to take a hike.”
The two men met as they rounded the front counter. Neither spoke. Neither acknowledged the other in any way, shape, or form. Under my breath I said, “Damn, I wish I could get away with that.”
“What?” said Lois.
“Just go on about my business, pretending neither man exists.”
“If you'd been on the ball, you could have slipped out the back door.”
“Too late now,” I muttered. Pasting a smile on my face, I said, “Hi, Dad. What brings you downtown?”
“I was at the diner and heard about your busted front windows. I came over to see if you were all right.”
I held up my hands. “I'm fine,” I said. “Not a scratch on me.”
I might as well have saved my breath. My father was determined to deliver a lecture charged with warnings, but cleverly wrapped in a tender, loving package of concern. He settled
himself on the stool next to me. His tone was soothing, his words gentle, but I zoned out.
Instead, I thought about Natalie's pool. The aquamarine water could be addictive. It was a delight to think about that silky water waiting for me at the end of this horrendous day. Maybe I should consider a swimming pool for my own personal use. I had the perfect spot for it. The more I thought about the idea the better I liked it. Forget the peonies, petunias, poppies, and pansies. Make way for a swimming pool. I'd call it therapy—a necessity for my mental health.
Dad was saying, “—thought I might have an active part in the case, but the man I talked to changed his mind. He didn't give a reason when he called, but I'm taking it in stride. The way I see it—”
I stifled a sigh and wondered what Natalie had planned for dinner. Maybe I should call her and tell her I'd bring takeout. No, she liked to cook and it would keep her busy. Chances were she was already in the process of creating some divine dish. I loved her creamy chicken enchiladas, especially if she accompanied it with guacamole dip.
The pitch of my father's voice alerted me he was winding down. I opened my ears and heard him say, “—her idea to go undercover. She starts out there tomorrow.”
Bewildered, I said, “I've missed something. Repeat that last part.”
My father spoke slowly and patiently. “She applied for a job at Parker Greenhouse and was hired. She starts tomorrow.”
I had to ask, though I knew the answer. I licked my lips. “Dad, who are you talking about?”
“Why DeeDee, of course. She's going undercover at the greenhouse. We have it all planned out.”
It was after five o'clock, and DeeDee and I were seated at my kitchen table. The discussion had been one-sided, and as far as I was concerned that's the way it would stay.
Leaning forward, I lightly touched her hand. “The word
forbid
is normally not in my vocabulary, DeeDee. I don't like hearing it so I try not to use it in reference to others. However, in this instance, I have to
forbid
you from doing this ridiculous stunt. It's dangerous. It's unnecessary. It's foolhardy.”
She blinked rapidly, and I softened my voice. “I do admire the fact that you drove out to the greenhouse and applied for a job.” I gave her a quick smile. “I just hope it wasn't because you're unhappy here.”
“This is my h-home,” she said slowly. “But I t-think I can h-help you.”
“I don't need help because I'm not doing anything.”
DeeDee grimaced. “I k-know better than t-that.”
“All right. I am doing a little detecting, but I could stop immediately and it wouldn't make any difference to the investigation. Sid and his deputies are on the job, and they're working day and night to find Marnie's killer. My involvement is superficial. Yours should be nonexistent. Understand?”
DeeDee's chin came up. “Give me s-some credit. I know my capabilities. I'm not a d-detective, but I d-do have e-ears.” Her
tone was earnest. “No one at t-the greenhouse k-knows me. I'm s-simply a young w-woman who stutters.” Her lips turned down at the corners. “It's irritating but just because I can't s-speak quick and s-sure, people think I'm slow. That my b-brain is defective.”
“I have never thought that, and you know it.”
“With you at the P-Parker house, I don't h-have anything to do. Albert says—”
I rolled my eyes. “I can just imagine what Albert says, but that don't make it right.” I glanced at the clock above the refrigerator. “I have to go. I guess I won't forbid you from going to work at the greenhouses, but I'm seriously asking you not to do it.”
I waited, but DeeDee didn't comment either way. She walked me to the front door. I sensed she was trying to come up with some argument to sway me, but I couldn't think of anything she might say that would make a difference. I knew she desperately wanted to do this, but if anything happened to her, I'd never forgive myself, especially if I'd given her permission.
I turned, and her face lit with expectation that perhaps I'd changed my mind. Again, I dashed her hopes. “I'm sorry, DeeDee, I know you're disappointed, but this is best.”
I glanced past her into the library and saw spools of purple and lavender crepe paper stacked on the coffee table. “What's that for?” I asked.
DeeDee looked behind her. She turned back to me and stared me straight in the eye. “My mother asked m-me to m-make some crepe p-paper roses.”
Yeah, right. My birthday was a few days away. My favorite colors were purple and lavender. I felt sure DeeDee was feeding me a line, but I played along. “Really?” I said. “I didn't know you had that talent.”
Her gaze was unwavering. “Would y-you like me to m-make you one?”
“I'm tempted, but I need to go. Natalie is expecting me.” I took three steps toward the front door, and then pivoted on my toe. DeeDee had wilted with what I took to be relief that I'd left the subject of the crepe paper. Once I faced her again, she squared her slim shoulders and raised her eyebrows inquiringly.
“D-did you f-forget s-something?” she asked.
I grinned. “You're good, sweetie. In fact, you probably could pull off this undercover gig, but it's more dangerous than fibbing to me about crepe-paper roses.” I pointed to the oak trim. “Don't use thumbtacks when you hang the streamers. Holes in the woodwork would not please this birthday girl.”
Chuckling at the astonished expression on DeeDee's face, I left my house and headed for Natalie's.
 
A different officer prowled the front drive when I parked at the lodge. I waved to him and went up the steps to the door. I didn't have a key but when I tried the knob, the door was unlocked. I stepped into the foyer and called, “Natalie? It's Bretta. Where are you?”
“I'm in the study.”
I hurried down the hall and stopped in the doorway. This was Dan's room and lacked Natalie's extravagant use of color. The walls were painted a soft cream and were covered with pecan-wood bookshelves. The carpet was a gentle blue. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out on the fenced pool. Longingly, I gave it a hard stare before turning to Natalie. She sat at Dan's desk, reading from a stack of manila folders. I frowned. “Why didn't you have the door locked? I could have rung the bell.”
She looked up. “Or I could give you a key.”
“That's not necessary.” I didn't plan to be here long enough
to need a key. Changing the subject, I said, “What's that smell?” I wrinkled my nose. “Is something burning?”
Natalie sighed. “Not anymore. I scorched dinner, and I don't feel like tackling another meal. How about I fix us a bologna sandwich? We can eat it out by the pool.”
My spirits drooped. I'd hoped for something tasty. Bologna slapped on a slice of bread didn't fill the bill, but I wasn't going to grumble.
“That's fine with me,” I said. “What are you doing?”
“I started out looking through Dan's desk for any bills that might get overlooked while he's away.” A furrow creased her forehead. “In the bottom drawer I found this stack of old personnel files.”
“You sound surprised.”
Natalie shrugged. “Current employee records are kept in Irma's office. I assume they're still there. But this stack encompasses the last three years, and they're for employees who aren't on our payroll anymore.” She gestured to the stack that was about ten inches thick. “Can you believe we've had this many greenhouse employees in the past thirty-six months? Are we that hard to get along with?”
I laughed. “I doubt it. I've gone through plenty of new people myself at the flower shop. It isn't easy finding the right person for the job.” I leaned over her shoulder and thumbed the tabs thoughtfully. Jacob had said Marnie had asked about employees—how long they stayed, why they'd left. I said, “Why do you think Dan brought these files to the house?”
“I don't know unless he was thinking of contacting someone to see if they'd like to come back to work for us.” After a moment, she shook her head. “But I don't understand why he'd do that. We have new people apply for work all the time.”
“When did he bring them in?”
Natalie shrugged. “I can't be sure, but I think it was Friday evening. He was in here reading when I told him goodnight and I went off to bed.” She stared up at me. “Why? Is that important?”
“I'm not sure, but when I spoke to Marnie in the garden, she mentioned that she needed to come to Dan's study and look over some papers. I think you should call Dan and ask him why he—”
“No. Tomorrow is his mother's funeral. I can't bother him with this.” Natalie studied the files. “Since Dan brought them to the house, that could mean he didn't want anyone to know he was interested in them.” She looked at me. “Maybe we'd better skip dinner and do some reading.”
My stomach ached with hunger. I knew I'd never be able to concentrate without some food. I suggested we eat and read at the same time. Natalie agreed. It didn't take us long to put together our sandwiches.
In ten minutes we were back in Dan's study with plates and glasses of iced tea. Natalie sat at Dan's desk. I moved some gardening books off a table and pulled up a chair. We divided the stack of files in half. I felt a twinge of guilt as we commenced to snoop into the private lives of past Parker employees.
Parker Greenhouse requested the usual information on their job application forms—name, address, phone, and social security number. There were questions concerning medication, back problems, tolerance of heat, past experience, and a place for the names and addresses of three character references.
An hour later, I was none the wiser. I leaned back and stretched. “I don't know about you, but I'm stumped. You've employed old men, young men, old women, and young women. Some are college educated, while others didn't graduate
high school. When I compare dates of employment with dates of departure, I see several people didn't stay very long.”
“That happens frequently. People think they want to work with plants, but they don't realize the job is strenuous. In the long run, they'd rather flip a burger at the local fast-food restaurant than lug plants, especially when you factor in the summer heat. Most people don't like to sweat.”
I could relate to that. “I've noticed that when summer help is hired, it's usually college students. Is there a reason?”
Natalie nodded. “They have plans to go back to school and we need extra hands and strong backs during the summer growing season. It works out fairly well. They don't have to be trained or experienced. We put them to work weeding, toting, mowing, and such. Marnie fell into that category. She wanted short-term employment.”
Natalie's eyes grew round at what she'd said. “Oh, dear, I didn't mean—”
I nodded. “I know what you meant. In my half of the stack it seems like young women were hired more often than young men.
Natalie turned her stack so she could read the names on the tabs. Finally, she said, “I don't think that's intentional. Uncle Donovan does most of the hiring. Jess has input if the person is to work in the greenhouses. Harley has his say when the help is for the gardens.”
I chuckled. “I saw Harley and Irma in a hot clench yesterday in the garden. Are they dating?”
Natalie's lips thinned into a grim line. “I hope not. Irma's married, though she's far from happy. Her husband, Larry, has cheated on her at least twice. This last woman had his baby.” She sighed deeply. “Irma and Larry have three children of their
own. I think this other woman is taking Larry to court so she can get child support out of him. Irma says they're already strapped for money. I feel sorry for her, and I imagine Harley feels the same way. He was probably offering her some friendly comfort.”
I remembered how Irma had caressed Harley's brawny back and drew my own conclusion as to what I'd witnessed. But I kept my thoughts to myself. Instead, I said, “Going back to these files, the facts speak for themselves. More women were hired than men.”
Natalie only shrugged and picked up another file. I separated my stack into two piles—males in one, females in another. The females outnumbered the males almost three to one. I pushed the male files aside and categorized the female files by age. The oldest woman was in her forties. The youngest had just turned nineteen when she'd been hired, but she'd quit after two weeks. I made a note of the name.
“Do you remember a Dixie Ragsford?” I asked.
Natalie smiled. “A lovely young woman and very ambitious. Had plans to go to Nashville and be the next country western singing sensation.”
“Did she make it?”
Natalie grimaced. “I don't know. Once they leave our employment we rarely hear from them again.”
I pulled another file off the female pile. “What about Carmen Martinez?”
“She went to work at Kmart. I saw her just last week.”
“How about Shannon Plummer? She left after two weeks.”
Natalie thought for a moment. “I don't remember her. What are you looking for, Bretta?” She tossed the file she'd been reading onto the desk. “In fact, what are
we
doing? I've been
through this stack again and again, but I haven't seen anything unique or mystifying. And I'm not sure I'd recognize it even if I saw it.”
“Call Dan,” I said softly. “Tell him you found the personnel files and wondered if you needed to do something with them.” I could see she was thinking about it, but knew better than to push the issue.

Other books

Coping by J Bennett
The Glass Castle by Priebe, Trisha; Jenkins, Jerry B.;
The Battle of Blenheim by Hilaire Belloc
The Liar Society by Lisa Roecker