Shear Murder (26 page)

She didn't recognize any guests from the back row, but the table closest to the stage was where Leanne and Falcon Oakwood sat. Their names jumped out at her.

Of course. If Falcon had for some reason accosted Torrie in the hallway, then shoved her body under the table, he could have just sauntered to his seat afterward with none the wiser. Marla still wasn't sure what he might have done with the cloth that he must have used to clean his hands. She'd have to ask Leanne if there had been any unusual stains on his tuxedo. Maybe this is what Leanne had meant when she said she'd soon be free of his mother's influence. Did she intend to turn in her husband, seek a divorce?

The phone rang, jarring Marla's senses.

“Marla? It's Leanne Oakwood.”

“Omigosh, I was just thinking about you. We need to talk.”

“Right.” The woman's voice sounded strained. “I heard what happened to Jill, the poor thing. I have some information that might be useful in her defense.”

Marla's breath hitched. “Sure, Leanne, go ahead. I'm listening.”

Leanne cleared her throat. “It involves Orchid Isle. I found some documents in my husband's files that are relevant. You'll know what to do with them. Do you have some free time this week for us to meet so I can hand them over? I know you're busy with your wedding and all, but it's important.”

“What did you learn, Leanne?”

“I can't take time to explain. Falcon might walk in at any moment.” Leanne lowered her voice to a hushed tone.

“Is it about the toxic waste? I know he acquired the land for Orchid Isle when it was contaminated. Did he skirt regulations? Did Torrie find out?”

“No, this involves something else. The proof is at Orchid Isle, along with these files. Let's meet there, and I'll show you everything.”

“Proof about what?” Marla persisted, unwilling to make the trip without further information.

“Oh, God, I hear footsteps. He's coming this way! Please, Marla, it's not only for Jill's sake. This will help me, too.”

Marla swallowed a sigh as she reviewed her mental schedule. “I'm free on Thursday morning. I don't go into work until one o'clock that day.”

“The park opens at ten. Come at nine, and I'll arrange for you to be let in. We'll meet inside the greenhouse. And Marla, please don't tell anyone. Word gets around, and I don't want Falcon to get wind of what I know.”

“All right. See you then.” Marla hung up, a grim smile on her face. What else could this be about besides her husband's dirty land schemes?

Increasingly nervous as the week progressed and her wedding date approached, she managed to juggle family demands, drop off the place cards and table favors at the country club, and confirm the music selections with the DJ. Luis told her the salon could reopen on Tuesday, relieving her of that problem. Meanwhile, the day spa's grand opening loomed closer and so did the holidays, making her regretful that she'd planned so much at the same time.

Finally, on Wednesday when she had a free moment, she picked up the phone to call Tally. Maybe her best friend would take a ride to Orchid Isle with her in the morning. Marla didn't think it wise to go alone. But when she remembered Tally's pregnant state, she put the receiver down. It wasn't a good idea to involve her in case the encounter with Leanne turned ugly. The thought crossed her mind that Falcon's wife could be the guilty party.

Marla finally confided her plan to Dalton that evening.

“Are you crazy?” He faced her in his kitchen, spatula in hand. “I'll go with you. You should have told me sooner.”

“Sorry, I just became involved in so many other things that it slipped my mind until now.”

“What are these files she discovered? And what's the proof at Orchid Isle?”

Marla shrugged. “Leanne wouldn't say on the phone. I'm thinking it's a ploy to be free of her husband.” She described her findings to date.

“You mean, Leanne wants a divorce and needs some leverage, so she snooped in her husband's office to get evidence against him?”

“Could be. We'll see what she has to offer.”

Thursday morning, Marla pulled her car into the empty parking lot at Orchid Isle, claimed a space, and turned off the ignition. After pocketing her wallet and cell phone, she stuck her purse under the seat.

“Shouldn't you wait here?” she asked Dalton. “Leanne thinks I'm coming alone.”

“It's a ways to the greenhouse. I'll accompany you there and then wait outside. She won't see me.” His firm tone told her arguing would be futile.

They advanced toward the front doors past a cluster of blue plumbago and white pentas. The lights were off inside the two-story white building, but when Marla twisted the doorknob, it opened. She eased inside, calling out a greeting. No one answered. Leanne must be waiting for her at the designated location.

It had been smart to wear a sweater over her knit top and jeans. The sweet-scented air felt cool against her skin as they proceeded out a side door onto the winding path. Birds twittered in the trees and leaves rustled overhead. They crossed a small arched bridge as water gurgled and danced on the rocks below.

A few more paces ahead, they came to a fork in the path and halted.

“Do you remember which way to go?” She peered in one direction then the other.

Dalton's brow furrowed. “It's not toward the lake, so let's go the other way.”

She stepped past a red-tipped Chinese fringe plant. An airplane droned in the sky, the only sign of civilization. Its sound tapered off with the vapor trail, leaving them alone with lizards and other jungle creatures. “It's so quiet here.”

“Too quiet. I don't like it.” Dalton's shoulders hunched as they followed the trail. “Maybe I should call Brody.”

“Why? I'm meeting a friend in the park and we're exchanging information. What would you tell the detective?”

“Good point.”

A squirrel darted by in the undergrowth. Branches provided a canopy overhead that filtered the morning light. Cascades of moss trailed from the tree limbs like old men's beards. Cobwebs glistened between broad-leafed plants and prickly tree trunks.

A yellow and black butterfly soared in front of her. Banana plants grew alongside gingers, ferns, liriope, and palms. They passed through a cycad collection and entered a grove of bamboos that creaked like an unearthly chorus. If this had been a toxic waste site, Falcon had done a stupendous job in recovering the land. She could believe it had taken years to get to this level of growth. Maybe she'd been maligning his character wrongly. Maybe he had gotten the proper clearances.

Or not. Why else would Leanne be meeting her? She knew her husband was guilty. Torrie, and later Hally, must have discovered his schemes, and that's why he killed them.

“There's a sign.” Dalton pointed beyond a tall laurel fig tree.

The sign was nearly obliterated by a hanging vine, but she determined the greenhouse was in the same vicinity as a cemetery. A cemetery? Who could be buried there? She pursed her lips as she trudged on.

Dead pine needles crunched underfoot as they headed over a less-traveled path. An evergreen stand brought a fresh pine scent to her nose. It mingled with a wet earthy aroma and chased away the stench of something rotting in the shrubbery.

A cracking noise overhead made her leap aside just as a large branch fell to the ground in a gust of wind. The breeze picked up, ruffling her hair. She hastened along, aware of clouds accumulating in the wakening sky. Dalton remained silent, his gaze wary as they covered ground.

Straight ahead was the greenhouse, the cemetery off to their left. Marla paused to peer at a memorial plaque in front of the grassy area.

“Dear Lord, it's a pet cemetery, of sorts. Eww.” Dead animals found on the grounds were buried here in accordance with state regulations. A gruesome tribute, to be sure, but one that respected their natural habitat. With a grimace of distaste, she turned away.

The greenhouse appeared to be a series of connected domed structures with walls of white opaque glass stretching from floor to ceiling.

“I'll wait out here,” Dalton said. “If you're not back within fifteen minutes, I'm coming inside. Holler if you need me.” He leaned against a solid oak trunk and folded his arms across his chest.

“Right. Let's hope I can make this quick.”

She pushed through the main entrance and paused inside as steamy humidity hit her in the face. The moisture was so thick, you could almost cut it with a knife. Her lungs breathed it in, along with a heavy floral scent.

A rocky waterfall gushed across an expanse on her right, and on her left stretched a tropical jungle-like growth of plants alongside and in between two concrete aisles. Underfoot, winding rivulets wet her running shoes. Visibility was practically nil from one end of the greenhouse to the other, where it opened into the next big space. Leafy banana plants, spindly palms, hanging vines, and dangling blossoms obstructed the path in what she could only describe as ordered chaos. She paused to admire a variety of vividly colored orchids.

“Leanne, I'm here,” she called. “Where are you?”

A rustling noise off to the left startled her. Brushing aside branches, she plunged in that direction. She ducked through an open door into the next hothouse, dodged hanging plants from above, and stepped over a hose coiled on the ground.

She stumbled to a halt when Philip Canfield slithered into view like a garden snake. His dark hair in his usual ponytail, he grinned at the sight of her. Black seemed to be his favorite color, as his outfit matched his hair.

“Marla, my dear, what a pleasure.” The way his eyes gleamed said otherwise.

“What are you doing here? Where's Leanne?”

“I'm afraid she couldn't make it, but she was most obliging in summoning you.” He held one hand behind his back as he sauntered closer.

“What do you mean?”

“I needed to tie up a loose end. You did come alone, didn't you?”

“Sure,” Marla lied. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. You're not her ticket to freedom, are you?” She had thought Leanne meant to expose her husband's wrongdoings to get him off her back, but maybe she'd been planning to leave him all along. Leave him for Philip Canfield.

“Leanne is very special to me. She's a good girl who will do anything I require, unfortunately for you. She didn't ask me why I wanted you to come here.”

“And why is that?” Marla's heart thumped wildly. This was a trick? Leanne hadn't intended to meet her at all? Her gaze darted toward the exit, but Canfield blocked that route. She could only go deeper, trapping herself further.

Her trembling fingers clasped the cell phone in her pocket. If she could speed dial Dalton, he'd overhear their conversation. Whatever Canfield had to say, she wanted to listen first before Dalton burst upon the scene. He would intervene if she was in danger.

Canfield sneered. “You know too much. Such a shame. Torrie had a lot going for her, too, although not everyone would agree. Like her, you've become a thorn in my side.”

“Many people disliked Torrie. What did you have against her?”

The florist's eyes turned glacial. “Torrie threatened to expose me unless I set her up in her own apartment. She couldn't wait to dump her husband. She'd counted on Griff's support, but she should have known he's just a player.”

Expose what about him? Marla didn't want to ask, afraid she'd provoke the guy. She didn't know what he held behind his back but hoped it wasn't a gun.

“I suspected Griff.” Marla backed away, her gaze level. “Torrie knew he'd been violating his noncompetition agreement with their magazine. Then I wondered if maybe Hally had done it out of jealousy, because she wanted Griff for herself.”

“You're totally wrong. It was me all along. I couldn't let Torrie put a stop to my lucrative side trade.” He sneered. “She just got in the way.”

Marla's lips parted as understanding dawned. “You supply collectors like Falcon with their orchids, obtaining specimens and smuggling them into the country.” In a way, Leanne had been truthful. The evidence
was
here, among the flowers.

Canfield pounded his chest. “Orchid enthusiasts will do anything, pay anything, to get what they want. Falcon is a fanatic. He's my best customer. And Leanne is too stupid to realize what's going on beneath her nose.”

I wouldn't be so sure. She knows more than she lets on.

“Do you really love Leanne, or are you pretending to care for her in order to stay close to her husband?”

“She has her uses, although I'll admit she's pretty damned good in bed.”

Bastard!
Marla gained another few inches away from him. Plants stood in pots all around her. Those would make a good weapon if she could get her hands on one. Where was Dalton? She didn't want to cry out and alert Canfield. Dalton should know by now something was wrong.

“Did Leanne tell you about the affair between Griff and Torrie?”

Canfield nodded. “That's right. I couldn't be sure what Torrie had told him, so I tried to get rid of the photographer during an event he was covering at the Venetian Pool. Someone came along, and I wasn't able to finish the job. I hoped I'd scared him enough to keep quiet if he knew anything.”

“You disguised your voice and called him on the phone to find out where he'd be that day.” She resisted the urge to wipe her sweaty palms on her pants. “I thought you might have been after his camera,” she continued, her voice raspy. “Weren't you afraid someone would notice the cake knife missing from the table at Jill's reception, after you'd said you put it there?”

“I'd forgotten to lay it on the table, so I gave it to Torrie, who was going that way. She said she'd deliver it.”

“Then what happened? I don't understand.”

“It doesn't matter, Marla. Your time has come.” He brought his arm around. His hand gripped a mean-looking knife. “Are you aware I enjoy fishing?” he asked in an idle tone, while she stared at the sunlight glinting off the steel. “I can describe how we gut our catch, if you're interested.”

She swallowed. “No, thanks. But tell me this: you'd left the cake knife in the van, went outside to retrieve it, and . . .?”

“And you're dead, Marla. That's enough questions.”