Cornflowers and Corpses Read online

  I knocked lightly and poked my head inside.

  "Hey, didn't expect to see you." Briggs hopped up from his chair. "But it's a nice surprise." He kissed me, then leaned back to scrutinize my face. "Why do you look like the kid who has something big to confess to his parents?"

  "Darn and I practiced my poker face all the way here from Culpepper Road."

  He circled around and sat at his desk. I was somewhat relieved, thinking it would be easier to spill everything with him sitting behind his desk. There was really no logical reasoning behind my theory, but it gave me some courage.

  "I'm going to cut to the important stuff." I placed the book I'd been holding on his desk.

  Briggs stared down at it. "Do you want me to start a new hobby?"

  "Nope, but if you open the book to the page marked with the feather, you'll see an amazing picture of a condor feeding its chick. It won an award."

  He sat forward and opened the book. It took him only seconds to spot the name. "Mason Fanning won this award," he said.

  "Yes, he did, along with the five thousand dollar prize and the great prestige and admiration that came with capturing such a difficult yet important photo. Only here's the catch and it's big. Mason didn't take the picture. One of the club members, Ivy Eagleton, snapped it. And it was quite an ordeal and harrowing too. She had to climb a steep cliff and hang there for seven hours to get the shot. She was at a large gathering of bird watchers when it happened. She bragged that she'd taken an amazing photo, then the roll of film was stolen. It was quite obvious, once the picture was published, that Mason Fanning was the thief. Poor Ivy had no way to prove it was hers."

  Briggs sat back and rubbed his jaw. "That's a strong motive." He pulled out his notebook and flipped it open. "I spoke to Ivy. She mentioned she was a professional photographer. We mostly discussed what she witnessed at Nora's slideshow and at the picnic."

  "Speaking of the picnic, Nora told me she had the knife when she sat down to eat her sandwich. It was in the sheath on her backpack. Then she put the pack down with other backpacks while the club ate lunch. In the midst of her meal, she spotted a hummingbird and followed it, taking her away from the tables. She left the remainder of the picnic abruptly when Mason started harassing her. She said she left in such a huff, she didn't notice the knife was missing."

  Briggs wrote a few details down in his notebook, then his brown eyes lifted with a questioning look. "It seems you've been out interviewing suspects." His tone was noncommittal, leaving me unsure whether he was upset or pleased or indifferent.

  "I was?" I somehow managed to make the two words sound like a question, a result of not quite knowing how he was going to react.

  He tapped his pen on the notepad. "Should I ask how you came to get all these details out of Nora? Who, I might add, is still a person of interest."

  "You should not. Let's just say I have secret channels into the bird watching world." I hoped my light response would jostle him into a smile and a 'good work, partner' but no luck. He had the advantage of knowing I was a terrible liar.

  "Lacey," he started.

  I lifted my hands. "No time to chat about this. I've left poor Amelia alone with Barbara. She's going to need to start seeing a therapist if I stay away from the shop much longer."

  His sigh fluttered some of the papers on his desk. "Fine. Probably best I'm in the dark on this one." He rose from his chair to walk me to the door but stopped short of opening it. He took my hand to turn me toward him. "Please don't take any more chances."

  "I promise," I said. "And it really wasn't a chance. I had support personnel in place."

  "If you're talking about Lola or Elsie, then that doesn't make me feel better."

  I turned an invisible key in front of my lips. "Then I'll say no more about it. Are you going to talk to Ivy again?"

  "I'd say, with this new information it might be a good idea. She obviously had motive. However, that book is from 2016. She's had a few years to carry out the revenge plan. That doesn't make too much sense."

  "Unless it's something she's been thinking about for a long time, and the opportunity just happened to present itself. Or maybe, his terrible cruelty the night before reminded Ivy of just what a bad guy Mason was. Since his camera was missing—"

  Briggs nodded in agreement. "And Mason had been bragging that he'd taken an important picture. Maybe Ivy thought it would be a good way to get him back. But why kill him?"

  "Maybe it was the only way she could get the camera. Or maybe the notion that he captured some award winning photo just reopened the old wound. Maybe it just made the whole thing fresh in her mind again."

  "All good points. I'll have to talk to her." He leaned forward and kissed me. "Get back to your shop and stay clear of potential killers . . . please."

  "I'll do my best."

  Chapter 30

  Dash was mowing his lawn when I pulled into my driveway. It was great timing considering Elsie had sent me home with some leftover cinnamon streusel muffins, Dash's favorite. She'd apparently heard from Britney that Dash was no longer her boyfriend. The Britney and Dash relationship had been rocky and tumultuous from the start, and Elsie had been beside herself about it. Britney was an excellent baker and the first person Elsie had allowed to work in the bakery. Unfortunately, Britney became so distracted by her relationship with Dash, it grew into a huge problem. Elsie was so grateful to hear that it ended that she sent the muffins home with me to give to my neighbor. In a sense, she was rewarding him for breaking up with her niece. At least, it was all mutual, so no hearts were broken. If only that had been true about Dash's on again off again thing with Kate Yardley. I hadn't spoken to Dash since the night at Mama Jean's. I wondered how it went after Briggs and I left.

  Dash saw me climbing out of the car carrying one of Elsie's signature pink boxes. He shut down the mower and pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head.

  I crossed over to his lawn. "I come bearing gifts." I reached him. "Apparently, cinnamon streusel muffins were not a hot item today." His green eyes lit up. "By your reaction, like a kid who just woke to a new bicycle under the Christmas tree, I assume Elsie was right when she said they were your favorite."

  He took hold of the box, and I followed him to the porch. "I guess this is my reward for Britney and I ending the relationship."

  "That would be my guess." Nothing got past Dash but then Elsie wasn't exactly trying to cover up her reason for the muffin gift. She'd hardly spoken to him since Britney and Dash started dating. Dash had been avoiding the bakery too. Now that the relationship was over, Elsie was favoring him with goodies. It didn't take a murder investigator to trace her motive.

  Dash put the box on the porch bench. Captain had been curled up on his porch pillow. He lifted his big head, and his nose twitched side to side.

  "Those are for me, Cap'n. Keep that big, wet nose out of my muffin box."

  Without voicing our plan, we both sat on the top step of his porch. It was one of those lazy summer evenings where the heat and activity from the day had settled a grayish haze over the horizon. The sweet smell of freshly cut grass filled the air.

  We turned slightly to face each other. "I'm going to be a good nosy neighbor and get straight to my nosiness," I said. "How was the date? Did she enjoy the flowers? She seemed very nice, by the way."

  Dash readjusted his glasses on top of his head. "Tiffany is nice. We have a lot in common, so it's easy to talk to her."

  I wasn't getting any overwhelming sense of new romance or infatuation.

  "I suppose it didn't help matters that when you walked into Mama Jean's to have dinner, half the town showed up," I said.

  Dash's grin tilted sideways. "I noticed you and James sucked down your food as fast as possible. I wanted to do the same, but it turned out Tiffany is a nibbler. She took fifteen minutes just to eat a piece of garlic bread and that was leaving behind most of the crust."

  I blinked at him in disbelief. "She didn't eat the crust?"

  "No crust
. Best part and she nibbled right up to it. That was where it ended."

  I shook my head. "Well, she's very pretty and like I said, she seems nice, so maybe this one tiny character flaw can be overlooked."

  We both had a good laugh, then Dash grew quiet and favored me with his brilliant green gaze.

  "See, this, what I have with you, I can't seem to find that with any of the women I date. I want to laugh and have fun and not take life or myself too seriously."

  "Give Tiffany a chance. She probably just needs time to warm up. She's probably just trying to figure out your character. It's hard to see past all this green eyed dazzle." I waved my hand in a circle in front of him.

  "Yeah, I can see your point. I sometimes have to avoid mirrors." We laughed again. We'd gotten along well from the start. Dash had always been so easy to talk to, but something told me my theory about the dazzle wasn't just teasing fun. His extreme good looks were probably more intimidating than he realized. Not everyone could see right through the startlingly handsome veneer to the real, easy to talk to man beneath.

  "James and I left, as you noted, pretty fast. How did things go for the rest of the dinner?" I asked.

  "You mean with Kate planting herself right in the middle of it all." He leaned back and rested on his hands as he stretched out his legs. "The ladies' room was in the hallway past our table. Kate must have powdered her nose six times, making sure to say something each time she passed the table. How is the ravioli? Oh, that wine smells good. Watch that garlic bread—it's not great for kissing." He rolled his eyes. "It was quite the show." He sat forward again with a more serious expression. "Sometimes I wonder if Kate is the one, after all. She is so—"

  "Persistent?" I asked.

  He chuckled. "Yes, that's the word. I don't know. Sometimes I think the only reason I pull away from her is because she tries so hard. If she was more aloof, I'd probably find her more intriguing. "

  "Ah ha, like when you dated Britney. When she came on too strong, you pulled away. Then she left to Europe and suddenly you were smitten." I tapped my chin. "I'm figuring out something—you've got Lola Button syndrome. My gosh, I need to start writing a book about this."

  His brow arched. "Lola Button syndrome. Does that mean I'm going to start wearing vintage rock band t-shirts and stretched out fedoras?"

  "Nope, I think you can avoid those side effects, but Lola was always nutty crazy about a guy until he liked her back. Then she lost interest. It took her a long time to realize Ryder was the one because he showed far too much interest in the beginning. Once he backed off, Lola came to realize how much she liked him. Now, of course, the obsession is mutual, so she's finally happy and settled in a relationship. Well," I added with a head tilt, "not happy at the moment due to the fact that he's thousands of miles away, but you get the gist."

  "I'm afraid I do and guilty as charged. Not sure why it is but I tend to pull away when someone tries to get too close."

  Briggs' car pulled around the corner and into my driveway.

  "I'll save that for our next therapy session." I stood up and brushed off my bottom. "And I'll just charge the nickel like Lucy did with Charlie Brown."

  Dash stood too. "Great, so I'm poor, miserable Charlie Brown."

  "Oh, come on, you know you're Schroeder, the piano playing dreamboat with the thick golden hair." I headed down the steps.

  "If I were, then Lucy would be pining for me instead of the detective."

  I glanced back over my shoulder to flash him a smile. "Enjoy the muffins." I headed back across the lawn to my house.

  Briggs was just climbing out of his car. Hopefully, he had news about the case. He didn't look altogether pleased that I'd just come from a chitchat with my neighbor, but that was his albatross to deal with not mine.

  Chapter 31

  I sliced a lemon for some iced tea and handed Briggs a glass. "I'm dying to know what Ivy said." I sat next to him on the couch.

  "Ivy was pretty upset that she was being questioned. She confirmed the entire story about the stolen condor picture, and she admitted that she was filled with rage about it. She also said she'd gone to therapy to help manage her reaction. It turned out after the rage dissipated, a bout of depression was left behind. Ivy insists she'd come to terms with the whole thing. For about a year afterward, she searched for a lawyer to help sue Mason for plagiarism, but it was too expensive and only a few lawyers thought she even had a case. After all, Mason had the photos and the negatives. She had no proof the film belonged to her."

  I put my tea on the coffee table and picked up Nevermore who had been rubbing his face all over my shins. The cat settled into a deep, warm purr as he curled up on my lap. "What about the day of the murder? Does she have a viable alibi?"

  "Not entirely. She said after they were done eating, she took off on the trail and eventually wandered off the cleared path to a more remote section of trees. According to her account, she spent the next hour on the branch of a large pine tree. While most bird watchers prefer to keep their feet on the ground, Ivy mentioned she likes to find more extreme vantage points like tall trees and cliffsides. She said she gets the best pictures when she pushes herself to be more daring."

  "I have to say, that story matches exactly what she told me when I arrived at the picnic with Elsie's brownies. Ivy was the first person to greet me, and I mentioned the heavy smell of pine. She didn't hesitate or plan a response. She told me she'd been sitting in a giant pine tree waiting for a good shot."

  Briggs put down his glass and reached over to rub the back of Nevermore's ears. It fired up the purr motor again. "Aside from seeming agitated that she was being questioned, there was nothing in the interview that raised any red flags for me. Everything she said seemed plausible and genuine."

  "I thought it might be a far-fetched notion too," I admitted. "I spoke to Ivy several times. She never struck me as a killer. It's just that Nora made a special point of telling me about the stolen photo."

  In typical cat fashion, Nevermore grew tired of the attention. He jumped off my lap and sauntered away, whipping his tail to and fro not as a form of thank you but as a form of I'm done with you humans for the time being.

  "Maybe Nora was trying to lead us onto a different path. She is still connected to the crime because of the murder weapon. Not to mention strong motive." Briggs reached for his tea. "Wish we had something to go with this tea. You don't happen to have any cookies in the cupboard, do you?"

  I looked over at him. "It's almost as if you don't know me at all." I hopped up. "Are you in the mood for something that is stuffed with sugary, greasy cream or something dipped in chocolate and coconut?"

  "Hmm, bring both. I can't decide."

  I carried the two cookie packages to the coffee table and set them down. "I had one of Elsie's oatmeal raisin cookies on my way out the door this afternoon, so I think I'll opt for an orange." I headed back to the kitchen and pulled a chilled navel orange out of the refrigerator.

  "Doesn't oatmeal raisin count as healthy? Seems like they shouldn't even be called cookies." Briggs had pressed together one of each kind of cookie. He peered up at me from the couch. "It's called a compromise." He took a bite of the towering treat. It snapped and crumpled into a cascade of crumbs and coconut.

  "Gee, who could have seen that coming?" I laughed as I plopped down next to him. I jammed my fingernail into the thick orange peel and a burst of sunshiny citrus fragrance filled the air. I took a deep whiff. "Nothing like the smell of an orange." I proceeded to peel the fruit. "I sure wish there had been some telling scents on Mason, but pine was the only thing I detected." I pushed the sweet slice into my mouth and pursed my lips to avoid spraying juice on the couch.

  The aroma of orange brought me back to the bird convention. Minnie had been eating a fragrant orange as Elsie and I arrived with the shortbread cookies. Then something very farfetched and probably way off base came to me.

  I twisted on the couch to face Briggs. "James, what if it wasn't a rare bird photo on Mason
's camera. What if he'd managed to catch a picture of something else, something that might harm another person's reputation?"

  "Like a blackmail photo?" he asked. He collected the crumbs off the front of his t-shirt. "Interesting. Only that brings me to the second piece of information I brought with me tonight."

  I sat up straight. "You found the camera."

  "Yep. The camera was shoved into the cavity of an old tree trunk. The phone was there too, but it had been smashed into a bunch of pieces. The camera was intact but the entire memory had been erased. Not one photo left behind."

  I sat back into the cushions. "Darn. That doesn't make this easy then, does it?"

  "I'm starting to see some of those cute sparkling Lacey light bulbs going on over your head. What are you thinking? Is there someone in particular who you think might have been caught doing something compromising?"

  The few flickers of notions ping ponging through my brain were so flimsy, they weren't even worth mentioning. "No one in particular," I said. "But don't you worry, I'll get to the bottom of this if it's the last thing I do."

  "That's what I'm afraid of," Briggs said as he reached for another cookie. "By the way, this morning I found a gray hair. That's all you, Lacey."

  I wrapped my arms around his. "Or maybe you're just going prematurely gray. I'm not opposed to a distinguished gray head of hair."

  Chapter 32

  After a busy morning, Amelia was looking a bit weary, so I sent her next door to the coffee shop for a pick me up. She returned fifteen minutes later with a big grin and a frothy latte.

  "See, I knew one of Les's specialty coffees would put a zip in your zipper." I leaned over to sweep flower and ribbon remnants onto the dustpan.

  "Yes, the coffee is delicious, but I'm smiling because a guy, nice looking one, I might add, is talking to Kingston as if they're best friends. As I walked by, he stopped and laughed, letting me know he wasn't crazy, but that the crow seemed to be listening to him. He said, I think I've made a new friend. At first I was going to just let him think that some wild crow had taken a shine to him but then I burst his bubble. I told him it was more likely the bakery croissant he bought to go with his coffee than the riveting conversation."