Dahlias and Death Read online

  Dahlias and Death

  Port Danby Cozy Mystery #6

  London Lovett

  Wild Fox Press

  Dahlias and Death

  Copyright © 2018 by London Lovett

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Red White & Blueberry Delight

  Recipe Card

  More Mystery!

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Kingston swooped down from the blue summer sky and landed on the shop roof. His long, black beak swung around like the arrow on a weather vane as he scanned the area for other crows. It seemed he was out of luck this morning. My phone rang as I parked my bike along the side of the building.

  My mom always managed to catch me just as I was leaving from or arriving at work, even today when she and Dad were just hours away from their visit to Port Danby. "Hey, Mom, I just got to work. Are you guys getting packed?"

  "Getting packed? We're already at the airport."

  "Why? Your flight isn't for five hours." I swung my backpack, my traveling bike purse, as I liked to call it, off my shoulders and rummaged through the front pocket for my keys.

  "Well, we didn't know how much time security would take. There's the whole taking your shoes off thing and making sure we're not carrying tiny bottles of liquid."

  "If it's taking you five hours to pull off and put on your shoes, then we need to start looking for one of those special homes for you two."

  Kingston cawed and dropped down to the sidewalk. He'd been hanging around humans more than birds and had somehow concluded it was more appropriate to walk into a building than fly.

  "Oh shush, smarty pants," Mom's voice chirruped through the phone. It was surrounded by the usual airport clamor. "We like to make sure we're early in case they move the flight up."

  Kingston's talons click-clacked on the shop floor as he marched toward his perch in the window.

  "Mom, it doesn't work that direction. They don't suddenly say 'hey, you know what? The skies are clear and the pilot got here early so hop on the plane we're leaving'. They delay flights. They don't move them up." I flipped on the lights. The interior of my colorful, fragrant and, if I did say so myself, chicly designed flower shop came into view. "Hey, Mom, I've got to get the work day started. I'll see you guys this evening." I hoped that was my perfect segue to hanging up but then, it was Mom on the other side.

  "Wait, Lacey, I called for a reason other than your sweet, lovable sarcasm," she said, her tone dripping with the stuff. "Now if Dad and I die in a huge ball of flames somewhere over the ocean—"

  "You're not flying from another continent. No possibility of that unless the pilot decides to take the scenic route. Flying is very safe, Mom. You'll be fine." I walked into my tiny back office to put away my backpack and start my computer.

  "Easy for you to say, you're not flying with the man who forgot to pack his gas pills."

  My dad's annoyed tone seeped through from somewhere nearby. "That's right, Peggy, tell the whole airport about my gas pills."

  I turned my face away and smothered a laugh.

  "Mom, I've got to start my day. I'll see you soon. Looking forward. Have a safe flight." I tried for another hang up but without success.

  "Yes, well if that isn't the case. Just remember the important papers are inside the metal cabinet in the hallway closet."

  "Yes, got it. Love you. Bye." I hung up before she could recite all the old family recipes that might otherwise go up with her in the ball of flames. It seemed I was destined for an exhausting week.

  The bell rang as I logged onto the computer.

  "I'm here, boss." Ryder poked his head into the office. My absolutely perfect assistant had recently decided on a more mature haircut. His usual tuft of long bangs no longer hung over his forehead. The new look highlighted his blue eyes and playful smile. "Thought I'd design a few red, white and blue bouquets for the holiday. What do you think?"

  I flashed him a very nineties thumbs up. "When do I ever say no to your ideas, especially wonderful ones? Those dark blue larkspur stalks leftover from the wedding party would be perfect."

  "Just what I was thinking. Great minds think alike."

  "Please," I said, "if only I had half the mind and memory as you. It took me ten minutes to remember where I placed my cup of coffee this morning. Finally found it on top of Kingston's cage. By then it was cold."

  Ryder stepped further into the office. "You're just rattled because Mom and Pop Pinkerton are coming for a visit. Can't wait to meet them."

  I stood from the desk chair. "I am looking forward to showing them around Port Danby." I followed him back out to the front of the shop.

  "And Pink's Flowers," he added enthusiastically.

  "Actually, if there was one place I could skip on the tour, it would be the shop."

  Ryder spun back around with a look of surprise. I realized now that he had nice, expressive eyebrows. The long bangs always hid them. "Why is that?"

  I sighed and looked around. "I love the way my shop looks, but my mom will find many things wrong with it. Mark my words."

  "I'll bet you a free piece of pie at the diner that she'll walk inside and be awestruck."

  I put out my hand. "Deal. Think I'll try Franki's new peanut butter chocolate delight."

  "We'll see." Ryder walked behind the work island and grabbed Kingston's treat can. He pulled out a few snacks, sending the bird into his usual song and dance routine. "Do you have a date for the Port Danby Fourth of July Celebration yet?" he asked as he handed the crow treats and then quickly and wisely pulled his fingers away from Kingston's beak.

  I took yesterday's orders out from under the counter and sat on the stool to go through them. "I didn't realize a date was required. Which probably answers your question." I perused the orders, making sure I had everything I needed. "How about you?" I asked without looking up from my task.

  His silence grabbed my attention. My face popped back up. Ryder avoided looking my direction.

  "Uh oh," I said. "Do you mean to tell me the most handsome, eligible guy in town is dateless for the big festivities?" I regretted my taunt the second I finished it. After more than six months working with Ryder, I knew exactly what his brooding expression meant. "Just ask Lola. The worst that can happen is she says no." The strange, tentative on again, off again relationship between Ryder and Lola sort of mirrored the one between Detective Briggs and me. So I had no right to give advice so confidently, but I could see he was hurting. And, unfortunately, my best friend Lola Button's middle name was fickle.
I knew she liked Ryder, but if he showed too much interest she tended to scurry off like a frightened deer.

  Ryder looked relieved when the bell rang. Elsie hurried in holding a tray of something that immediately overwhelmed my supersonic nose. My hyperosmia, or extreme sense of smell, allowed me to catch and decipher even the slightest scents. Normally, I worked to keep my olfactory cells under control so as not to end every day with a pounding headache. But whenever Elsie walked in with one of her mouthwatering treats, it was hard to hold back.

  "I definitely smell blueberries and strawberries."

  She placed the dish on the counter. The dessert was covered with a carpet of bright blue, heavily glazed berries, plump and round with deliciousness.

  I took another whiff. "Cream cheese. Graham crackers."

  "This is my good friend Nicole's Blueberry Delight. Only I added strawberries for the holiday to make it Red, White and Blueberry Delight. I made it for your parents."

  "Then you've already won my dad's heart. My mom's too, but she'll be less generous with the praise." For some unexplained reason, I worried that Elsie and Mom would not get along. I hoped it was just my intuition being thrown out of whack by the busy holiday week.

  The Blueberry Delight dish was too big for my little office refrigerator. "Can you keep it in your bakery fridge for now? Ryder and I have our mini refrigerator pretty cluttered with tea, water and soda."

  "Sure thing. Didn't you say you had a garden club meeting today?" Elsie's smile was more of a rub than amusement. She found it humorous that I'd somehow gotten talked into joining the Port Danby Garden Club. Today was my first meeting since joining. I was actually looking forward to it. Elsie seemed to think I'd regret my decision, but she tended to be somewhat cynical. Why was I thinking Elsie and Mom wouldn't hit it off? They were peas in a pod.

  "First meeting right after lunch. It should be fun." I said confidently to assure her I was still thinking positively about my new membership.

  Elsie's nose crinkle was one part skepticism, one part humor. "I'm sure it will be lovely. As long as Molly and Carla don't get into their usual spat about who grows the most fragrant roses. Of course, at the moment those two are going to be more at war about the Port Danby Pie Contest than their garden accomplishments."

  "Aren't you entering the contest?" I asked.

  Elsie followed me as I headed to the potting side of the shop for vases. "No. About five years ago, the powers that be, not sure who exactly, decided since I was a professional baker I could no longer enter my pie. My buttermilk pie won every year, so most people didn't even bother to enter."

  "I guess that makes sense." I plucked a clear, cylinder shaped vase and an opaque white flower bud vase from the shelf.

  Elsie made a scoffing sound behind me. "Only now, Molly Brookhauser wins every year with her cinnamon apple pie. Not sure how that's any different. Anyhow, I've got to get back to the shop. I've got brownies in the oven. I'm decorating them with fudge frosting and red, white and blue fondant stars. I'll bring you one later when I bring the dessert back."

  "And you know now that you told me, I'll be waiting for that brownie all day. Thanks, Elsie."

  She stopped at the door and called back to me. "Are you making a basket for the picnic auction?"

  "Hadn't given it much thought." I returned with my vases to the work island. "I probably won't bother."

  "Too bad. I'll bet that handsome detective is looking forward to bidding on it."

  I rolled my eyes and shooed her out. My earlier worry was silly. Elsie and Mom would hit it off just fine.

  Chapter 2

  The midday sun was hotter than I anticipated as I rode along Culpepper Road. Normally, an ocean breeze wafted in after lunch to relieve the summer heat, but today the air was so still it was almost eerie. Even the local birds had taken to the higher tree branches to wait for the anticipated refreshing breeze.

  Hot or not, I always loved a bike ride along Culpepper Road. The road was on the far west edge of town. It was lined with small, quaint farms. Jenny Ripley, president and today's hostess for the garden club meeting lived on Maplewood Road in a charming yellow Victorian surrounded by a scenic acre of land. She had recently retired from her librarian job in the town of Mayfield. She now kept busy with her garden and embroidery.

  I turned off Culpepper and onto Maplewood. Several cars were already parked out front of Jenny's house. The club was small so they were anxious to have me join. I figured it could only help my standing in the community to be part of some of the local groups. Who knew, maybe someday Mayor Price would even learn to trust me and no longer consider me an outsider.

  I could see Jenny's bright yellow apron in the backyard as I pedaled the bike up to the porch. Jenny's house was the quintessential nineteenth century farmhouse with its wraparound porch and gabled roof. A white picket fence surrounded a nice patch of grass and flowers in the front yard. The fluttering purple, pink and white petals of sweet peas snaked along the porch railing, filling the air with their candy scent. The property itself stretched deep behind the house. An old stone wall running between her lot and the neighbor's was in the process of being torn down. Oddly enough, the posts being set for the new fence were at least three feet to the left, making Jenny's plot of land even larger.

  Jenny looked up from the table where she was placing plaid green linen placemats. Her bright yellow apron was embroidered with orange tabby cats. No doubt one of her own creations.

  Carla Stapleton came out of the back door carrying a tray of lemonade. Carla was an interesting sort. I'd only met her twice. She was tall for a woman, maybe five foot ten or eleven and she had nice sturdy shoulders to go with it. I hadn't met her husband Vernon yet but Elsie had warned me not to let my mouth drop too far. Apparently Vernon was a good six inches shorter than his wife and a great deal smaller than her in every way. I guessed Carla to be in her forties. She had no children, unless you counted her twelve pet chinchillas. Which apparently she did because I'd already seen numerous pictures of her furry babies engaged in any number of activities that a chinchilla might engage in. (Which wasn't saying much.) Of course, who was I to judge when just this morning I sternly reminded my crow to pick up all of the cereal he dropped on the carpet as if telling my kid to pick up his room.

  "Lacey," Jenny practically sang my name as she spotted me in the yard. "So glad you made it. Carla and I were just getting lunch ready. The rest of the members should be arriving any minute." Jenny hurried back into the house.

  "Can I help?" I called on her way past.

  "No, just enjoy some refreshment." The screen door snapped shut as she disappeared inside.

  Carla handed me a glass of lemonade. "Here, you look like you could use this. Did you ride all the way on your bicycle?"

  "Yes. I was hoping for an ocean breeze during the journey but it's late today."

  Carla stopped to fan herself. "You're right. That's why I'm feeling so darn hot." Her smile dropped and her square jaw jutted forward as the garden gate opened and shut behind me.

  I turned back to see who had arrived. Molly Brookhauser walked in wearing a sparkly red, white and blue baseball cap. It was a dazzling conglomeration of sequins, rhinestones and silver star studs. Molly beamed as she noticed how our eyes were instantly drawn to it. There was no way to avoid the overwhelming sparkle. Molly was a forty-something divorcee with twins in college. She had short brown hair that she liked to tuck behind her ears, even while it was under a hat. Jenny had mentioned that Molly lived just down the street from her.

  Molly pointed up at it, though that was hardly necessary. "How do you like it? I bought it at the Mod Frock. Kate told me it's one of a kind. I'm wearing it to the fireworks show."

  "It looks heavy," Carla said dryly. Elsie had predicted right. The tension between the pair was pretty instant as Molly turned her lip up in response.

  The screen door creaked open. "Oh my gosh," Jenny chirped from the back porch steps. Her focus was on the hat, only I wasn't getting a '
what a fantastic and glorious hat' vibe from her as she crossed the lawn. "Where did you get that?" she asked with irritation.

  Molly's brows crunched together in confusion. "I was just telling the girls that I bought it from Kate Yardley. She said it was 'one of a kind'," both Jenny and Molly said in unison.

  Jenny turned around with a harrumph and marched back into the house, only to emerge seconds later with another of Kate's one of a kind patriotic hats.

  Carla shrugged. "Probably your first mistake was believing Kate. She's a shrewd saleswoman. She once talked me into a pair of short boots that were at least a size too small. She told me they made my feet look petite."

  I nodded. "Yeah, Kate is a master at the backhanded compliment."

  "I wore them for about ten minutes to a party that Vernon and I went to over in Mayfield. I had to walk around barefoot all night. And she wouldn't take them back because she said they were too stretched out."

  That comment earned a laugh from Molly. And the laugh earned a heavy browed scowl from Carla. It seemed there was more than a touch of animosity between them.

  I stepped up to plate as the new member, showing I had plenty to offer to the group. "Since there is no rule that says you can't wear matching hats, I say you both show up sparkling with patriotism. Besides, it might make Kate squirm to see both of you in the hats. Maybe she won't be so deceptive next time." (Yes, my offer of help included a tiny bit of revenge on Kate but not undeserved.)