Cornflowers and Corpses Read online

  Cornflowers and Corpses

  Copyright © 2020 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

  Lemon Lavender Shortbread Cookies

  Jasmine and Jealousy

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Elsie pulled the hot loaf of zucchini bread out of the oven. My nose wiggled into action. "I smell cinnamon."

  Lola scoffed as she picked up her coffee. "You don't need a super nose for that. Even I can smell the cinnamon. Since our little get together is after the lunch hour and before the dinner hour, is it called a linner? Or is it a dunch?"

  "How about just a munch fest?" Elsie placed the steaming brown sugar loaf on a plate in the center of the table. We'd decided to have a girls' late Sunday afternoon get together, complete with all the goodies we could muster (most of which had come straight from Elsie's oven).

  "My vote is for munch fest." I reached for the first hot slice of sweet bread. It was dotted with chunks of walnuts and thin wisps of zucchini. "You are truly a miracle worker, Elsie. Who else can make a vegetable into such a delectable, decadent treat?"

  "Any other person who has baked zucchini bread," Elsie quipped as she sat down to join us. She reached for some of the plump red strawberries Lola had brought. "Although mine is probably better than most." She arched a judgmental brow toward Lola, who was deeply focused on slathering an obscene amount of fresh whipped butter on her slice of zucchini bread. "How on earth do you stay so skinny?" Elsie asked.

  Lola shrugged and shoved the richly topped bread into her mouth.

  "It's because she never stops moving," I said. "And it's aggravating as heck."

  Elsie turned the same arched brow my direction. "Says the woman who consumes bakery goods like other people drink water. And you're still the same size you were when you danced into Port Danby a few years ago with your hopelessly positive attitude and your flower arranging notebooks."

  I grabbed a thick, green slice of honeydew melon. "Hopelessly positive? I'm not hopelessly positive."

  "Yes you are," my two friends said in perfect unison.

  "Really?" I smiled. "Then I'll take that as a compliment."

  "See," Lola said. "Hopelessly positive." A burst of wind sprayed Elsie's kitchen window with drops of rain. Lola groaned. "Why is it raining? It's June. I want perpetually sunny weather from this point forward. No clouds or rain or anything that frizzes my hair for the next three months."

  I wiped a touch of butter on my zucchini bread. Lola was a terrible influence. (Not that I needed influence.) "Rain will make the rest of summer, including the sweltering month of August, even more beautiful."

  "Yes, all right, Pollyanna," Lola quipped. "Now you're trying too hard. But I know a subject that even you can't put a positive spin on." She rested back with a pleased smile. "Does your new flower arranger start tomorrow? What will that be, number four or number five?"

  I sighed deeply. "Six if you count the guy who showed up an hour late on the first day and then asked which flowers were chrysanthemums before proceeding to engage in a lengthy text conversation with his gaming buddy. He was there for such a short amount of time, I can't even remember his name. But I do remember that he'd had something with garlic for breakfast because he smelled as if he had spent the night in a vat of garlic infused olive oil."

  Elsie pressed a napkin to her mouth to stifle a laugh.

  I pretended to be offended with a chin lift and a straightening of my posture."I'm glad you find my plight so entertaining."

  A dry laugh burst from Elsie's mouth. "Excuse me but you told me you were going to write a book about all the baking assistants I've blown through in the past two years. I'd say that falls under the category of entertainment."

  "Yes but you have not had as many assistant disasters as I've had in just two months time," I said. "May I remind you about Norton and his planetary mission."

  Lola laughed. "Did I hear this story? I don't remember the planetary mission."

  I turned to her. "That's because while I listen to all your problems thoughtfully and with all the great care of a true friend, you wave off my grievances as not even worthy of a furrowed brow."

  "Not true. I was highly concerned about your wonderful assistant, Ryder, leaving you in the middle of bridal season." Lola picked up another berry.

  "I'm pretty sure your concern was more about you missing your boyfriend than me having to run around with my hair on fire all while putting together bridal bouquets."

  "What happened with the planetary mission?" Lola took a bite of the berry.

  "It was all going well. Norton, a thirty something college graduate in—" I cleared my throat. "In philosophy," I continued.

  "That should have been your first clue," Elsie quipped over the rim of her coffee cup.

  "For two days, Norton had helped me put together six bridal bouquets and fifteen centerpieces for a large wedding. He was talented and seemed to know his way around a flower arrangement. Not like Ryder, of course but I was pleased. I thought this guy would work out and my troubles were over. The bouquets were delivered. Norton was leaving for the weekend, and I said 'see ya Monday'. He glanced back and said 'oh, I have to return to my home planet next week. My planetary mission here on Earth is over.'"

  Lola sat back so hard with laughter the chair tipped back on two legs. "Can't believe you didn't tell me this. Did you ask him which planet?" she said after catching her breath.

  "First of all, I did tell you, but I'll refer you to my previously mentioned comment on you never listening to my lamentable tales. And no, I didn't ask because, frankly, I was stunned speechless. I swear even Kingston's eyes were bulging in disbelief, as if he'd understood the entire statement."

  Lola crumpled back into another bout of laughter. "I've had some silly shop assistants, but that one takes the prize. Poor guy. Do you think he was serious, or maybe he just didn't like working for you?"

  I exchanged annoyed glances with Elsie. "Thank you for that, but I'm fairly certain he was serious."

  Elsie picked at her slice of zucchini bread. "Maybe he was telling the truth," she said offhandedly.

  Lola laughed again, then paused to see if Elsie would join her. She was wearing a perfectly serious expression as she scowled Lola's direction.

  "I'm just saying that none of us know for certain. There could be aliens walking amongst us here on earth," Elsie said curtly.

  They were the most unexpected words to ever come out of my highly pragmatic, logical friend.

  "Elsie
," I started cautiously. "Is there something you're not telling us?"

  Lola sat forward clumsily and the table wobbled. "Oh my gosh, Elsie, are you an alien? Is that why you have superior baking talents? Did you come from a place where trees are made from pastry dough and rivers flow with whipped cream?"

  Elsie casually picked up a grape from the fruit plate and threw it across the table at Lola. "If I did come from a place with whipped cream rivers, do you really think I would have decided to live here instead? I confess, I occasionally watch those programs that theorize about ancient aliens and beings from outer space. There, now you know the real me."

  I reached over and patted her arm. "I think it's good that you let your mind loose occasionally, Elsie. And you're right. Maybe Norton was actually telling the truth."

  "Oh no," Elsie said. "That guy was off his rocker."

  We sat in silence for a second, then burst into peals of laughter. It was our usual girls' outing, good food and lots of fun. I wouldn't know what to do without my two good buddies, both delightful and entirely unique in their own ways. (Although, I was still having to process Elsie's earlier confession about her interest in aliens.)

  The laughter died down, and each of us refilled our coffee cups. It was an unusually cold and rainy day for June. Hot coffee and the yummy cozy atmosphere in Elsie's kitchen were just what we needed to make the event perfect.

  "At least Amelia has worked out. She is great with the customers. She even helps out with purchase orders." I put my cup down. "If only she knew how to arrange flowers. She tried a few times, but she's like a—what's the saying—like a bull in a china shop. She breaks every flower."

  Lola rested back on the chair. "So, what you're saying is that it takes not one but two people to replace the wonderful, magnificent Ryder Kirkland." She smiled and gazed up into the air as if she'd been pulled into a daydream.

  "You're trying to imagine what it would be like if there were two Ryders, aren't you?" I asked.

  Lola shrugged. "You know me too well, but just think of the possibilities."

  "Right now, I definitely wish that were the case. Then one Ryder could be having the time of his life studying rare plants in the Amazon, and the other could be helping me at the flower shop. Unfortunately, there is only one Ryder, which means Barbara Malcom, the highly qualified flower arranger, better show up on time tomorrow with a good attitude and a healthy belief that she belongs here on this planet. I'm so desperate for help, I had to hire her over the phone. She seemed quite knowledgeable, and her resume was impressive."

  "Well, I hope she works out," Elsie said. "By the way, are you going to check out the bird watcher's convention in Mayfield? They've ordered eight dozen of my shortbread cookies in the shape of doves."

  "I'd heard there was a bird event in Mayfield," I said. "But I hadn't really considered going."

  "I just thought, you know, since you are sort of closely associated with a bird that you might be interested." Elsie got up to carry the empty plates to the sink.

  "Closely associated with a bird?" I laughed lightly. "That's a weird way to put it, but I don't know if being the personal servant for a demanding crow puts me in the category of bird enthusiast."

  "The flyer I saw said they would be selling all kinds of bird toys and treats and other goodies a bird owner might need," Elsie said as she turned back to the table. "Might be some fun stuff there."

  "You just want someone to go with you when you have to deliver your cookies," I said.

  "Possibly," Elsie admitted.

  "I'll take you up on it if you go late in the afternoon when the flower shop hits its lull in customers. Amelia is getting comfortable enough with the flow of the shop to work the customer counter without me for a few hours. It'll be good practice for her. And who knows, maybe I'll find something to make the world's most spoiled crow even more spoiled."

  Chapter 2

  The June rainstorm had cleared out by Sunday night leaving behind a stellar Monday morning that was scented with the crisp fragrance of trees and flowers. My newest assistant, Amelia Stratton, was standing in front of the flower shop cradling a cup of Les's coffee between her hands as if it was winter. She brought the cup to her mouth and pursed her lips to blow on the hot beverage. She was just attempting a cautious sip as I reached the storefront.

  Amelia was in her late twenties with sparkling brown eyes and a gracious smile that helped her easily win over customers. She moved quickly and efficiently. She'd been working in hospitality, including as a cruise ship activity director, for the past six years, and that experience made her an expert in customer service. She'd quickly learned how to write up big orders and answer all manner of questions that pertained to flowers. Unfortunately, she just couldn't arrange them.

  Amelia flashed her warm smile as she held up the coffee. "Last Friday I took a sip too fast and couldn't taste anything for the entire day, so I'm taking my time." She glanced around. "Where's King—" she started but didn't need to finish.

  Kingston came flapping out of a nearby tree. After his clumsy descent, he landed gracefully on the arm of the bench outside the shop.

  "There you are, King," Amelia said cheerily. It was the same tone she used for everything. No matter who she was talking to or what she was doing she always spoke as if she was meeting her best friend or greeting guests at a restaurant. She was particularly fond of my bird, although the feeling wasn't necessarily mutual. Amelia tended to move just a little too fast for Kingston's liking.

  I unlocked the door and we walked inside. The shop was filled with the light, sweet scent of the five dozen electric blue cornflowers that were waiting, in all their blueness, to be tucked between white roses for wedding bouquets. They were a vibrant, hearty flower with a faint scent, unless you were sporting a nose like mine. Then five dozen in a small space could produce quite the perfume.

  "What time is the new flower arranger coming?" Amelia asked as she headed straight to the office to put away her purse.

  I followed her. "She should be here soon." The shop bell rang as we put away our things. "That might be her now."

  "I hope she's from this planet," Amelia whispered. She had witnessed, firsthand, the parade of unsuccessful flower artists that had come and gone in the past two months.

  "Me too," I whispered back.

  I walked to the front of the shop. A forty something woman, small and petite with thick glasses was talking softly to Kingston as he slid back and forth along his perch trying to decide if the stranger was friend or foe. The woman was wearing a bright pink shirt with the words Bird Nerd printed across the chest. She didn't match the image I'd formed of my new assistant.

  "Barbara?" I asked hesitantly.

  The woman spun around. "No, my name is Nora."

  "I'm sorry. I thought you might be my new floral assistant. How can I help you?"

  "I'm not here to buy flowers." Nora swung her purse around to the front and reached into it. She pulled out a piece of bright yellow paper. "I was hoping I could hang this flyer in your shop window. The West Coast Bird Watching Society is having a convention in the next town, and we're hoping to attract a large crowd. I saw this lovely crow in the window and had to come right in to see him. Is he a pet?" Her lip was turned up, and there was a noticeable amount of judgment in her tone. I'd come across more than one person who seemed to think I was wrong for keeping a wild animal as a pet, so I already had a well-scripted answer.

  "More accurately, I am his human. I rescued Kingston and brought him back to health, but when it was time for him to head back into nature, he decided he preferred my waffles and hardboiled eggs."

  Obviously, considering herself a bird expert (as noted by her t-shirt) she wasn't buying my answer as easily as other opinionated people before her. She turned back to Kingston. "Wouldn't you rather be soaring through the blue sky, hanging out with other crows?" she asked and even paused for Kingston to respond.

  "I assure you he does plenty of soaring in blue skies, and he prefers the
human race to his own." I added in a nice, curt tone to assure her the debate was over. "I would love to hang your flyer in the window," I added with a polite smile, even though I wasn't feeling all that polite.

  She looked momentarily puzzled. "Oh yes, the flyer." She handed it to me. "Thank you so much and be sure to attend. There are many beautiful perches and bird toys for purchase. For parrots and other pet birds, of course, but I'm sure your crow would find them entertaining. They are one of the smartest birds," she said confidently as if telling me something new.

  "Trust me, once you've lived with a crow, you find that fact out pretty fast." I glanced at the flyer. According to the long list, a visitor could buy everything one might need to keep a pet bird or go on a successful bird watching adventure. Entry included free entrance to all of the various lectures and slideshows from club members.

  "This is quite an event," I said. "I guess I'll see you there." I'd already made plans to go with Elsie, but I decided to let Nora think she'd talked me into attending.

  "Great," she said with a nod. "Well, I'm off to visit that lovely lighthouse at the end of the road. I'm hoping to spot some Shearwaters gliding out over the waves. They usually don't show up until fall, but I'm hoping to get lucky."

  "There are an abundance of birds out on the beach. I'm sure you'll spot many species," I said.

  "I'm mostly interested in spotting rare birds. We get points and prizes for capturing images of rarely seen species. What is the best route to the lighthouse?"