Sunflowers and Sabotage Read online

  "Ellen Joyner is a conniving witch. She has some nerve. Wasn't she just acting the innocent. I'm sure she saw Melody walking Hamilton and Caprese, and she rushed right over with that smug, over-styled poodle to get in the way of the walk."

  That was the last we heard as we headed along the pathway to the parking lot.

  Lola glanced back at the angry couple. "Who knew dog shows were a hot bed of drama."

  Chapter 5

  "Your shop door is propped open." I startled Lola out of her short cat nap.

  She sat up and peered through the front windshield. It took her a second to shake off the grogginess. "What the heck?" She slumped back down. "Ugh, the black cloud has landed and cast its dreary shadow on Port Danby. Cynthia and John have arrived."

  I swept into the only parking spot on the street, just a block from our shops. "Guess we took too long for lunch."

  "I'm blaming it on the Cramptons. That's either the best or the worst surname in the world. At least now Mom will be too busy questioning me about closing the shop midday to comment on my attire."

  I glanced over at her faded t-shirt. Lola had the finest collection of vintage rock t-shirts but the Stone Temple Pilots one was particularly shabby. If I didn't know any better, I'd guess that she chose that t-shirt just to annoy her mom.

  "Well, good luck," I said as I turned off the engine.

  She sat up straighter. "Wait, I've got a great idea. Come into the shop with me. Mom always puts on her best face for visitors. She might even tone down her first few gripes about my appearance if you're standing next to me." She peered quickly my direction. "Or maybe that's a mistake. You look far more fresh and pretty and girlie. The comparison is too drastic."

  I turned in my seat. "Normally, I would thank someone for calling me fresh and pretty and girlie, only I sensed just the tiniest bit of derision as you said it so I won't be thanking you. It seems to me that if you knew your mom was going to complain about the way you're dressed, you could have at least pulled out one of your nicer t-shirts."

  Lola stared down at the shirt. "Nothing wrong with my t-shirt." She looked up at me. "So are you going to be a good friend and escort me into my shop or not?"

  I grabbed my purse from the backseat. "Fine. I'll walk you in—coward."

  We walked across to Lola's Antiques. Her parents' voices floated out to us before we stepped inside. Lola stopped and took a deep breath. "Here we go." She strode in. "Hey, guys, you got in early," she said cheerily.

  Lola's parents didn't look like your average, everyday mom and pop. They looked altogether more worldly than Stanley and Peggy Pinkerton. My parents looked as if they'd lived an easy, ordinary life in the suburbs, both a little paunchy with clothing that was neither contemporary nor outdated. Lola's dad, John Button, had graying temples. With his crisply tailored white shirt with rolled sleeves and khaki shorts, it looked as if he was about to go out on a safari. He was a thick haired ginger like his daughter, but his skin had a dark coppery tone as if he'd spent the last month on the French Riviera, which he quite possibly had. Cynthia Button, Lola's mom, had dyed her hair a deep henna color. This afternoon she was wearing an exotic dress made of gauzy batik fabric.

  Both parents rushed right over for hugs and kisses hello. For a brief second, it seemed Lola was happy to see them. (Not that she would ever admit it.)

  Cynthia pulled away first and flashed a gracious grin my direction. "Lacey, right?"

  I walked forward. "Yes, we met briefly on your last visit." I put out my hand but she pulled me into a hug.

  "I'm so glad Lola has you for a friend. She talks so much about you."

  "We have become very close, and I'm glad to have her too."

  Cynthia stepped back. She turned an admiring gaze toward Lola. "Your hair looks so pretty with all those curls, sweetie."

  Lola's mouth dropped. It seemed she was unprepared for a compliment. "Thanks," she said hesitantly. Then she squinted suspiciously at her mom, waiting, apparently, for the other shoe to drop. Which it did.

  "I suppose it just looks better because you don't have one of those silly old man hats pulled down over it."

  "Ah, there it is." Lola looked at her dad. "Almost thought you grabbed the wrong woman at the airport."

  "Oh, don't be silly, Lola," Cynthia piped up before John could respond. Not that he seemed to know how to respond.

  "Your mom and I had a long trip." John finally spoke up. "We're going to head home to shower and take a nap. We just wanted to stop by the shop first and say hello." Late Bloomer sat at his feet and stared up at him. He patted the dog's head. "We can take Bloomer with us."

  "Yes, sweetie, we were a little surprised to find the shop closed. You might have missed some customers." Cynthia stepped over to a walnut buffet and straightened a few of the china cups Lola had displayed on its shelves. "It's not good business."

  Lola wasn't exaggerating. I was beginning to think even my mom couldn't go toe to toe with Cynthia.

  "I have to eat lunch, don't I? I think it would be even worse business to leave the shop open with no one minding the store." Lola grinned at her.

  "Oh, Lola, you are being extra silly this afternoon. Maybe you should be the one to go home and take a nap," Cynthia mused.

  "Sounds good to me," she said. "Does that mean you two will be in charge? After all, I don't really get days off for things like naps." I was about to mention her nap on the way home from Chesterton but thought better of it.

  "We told you to hire an assistant," John said.

  "I tried a few but there aren't many good ones." Lola stepped over to the buffet and moved the china cups back to where she'd originally placed them. Cynthia decided to ignore it.

  "Speaking of assistants—" Cynthia turned to me. Her skin was virtually flawless. I wondered how many European spas she frequented during their travels. "How is your floral assistant?" She said it with just enough distaste that I instantly felt sorry for Ryder. It seemed he wasn't going to have as easy a time of it as I'd predicted.

  Fortunately, it took no effort to sing his praises. "Ryder is the best assistant anyone could ask for. He's talented and knowledgeable. Customers adore him. Everyone adores him, in fact. He's going to go far in life."

  "Well, we can't wait to meet him," Cynthia said, but I questioned the sincerity in her tone.

  "Yes, all in good time." Lola started walking them to the door. "Like you said, time for naps. I'm afraid the refrigerator is sort of empty. I haven't been to the store, but I'll pick up some pizza on the way home."

  Cynthia stopped to admire a Victorian chair. "Sweetie, this chair needs dusting. I know we like to see patina on these old pieces but dust doesn't really say old. It says dirty."

  That was my cue to leave. I swept past Lola, who seemed to be deciding whether this battle was worth fighting or whether she should save energy for future fights.

  "It was nice seeing you both again," I said cheerily as I walked past.

  "Yes, you too," Cynthia called as I reached the door. I walked outside and hurried across the street.

  Ryder was finishing potting some marigolds when I walked inside.

  "Run," I said, "Run and don't look back."

  Ryder's face blanched, and I felt guilty for teasing him. "I'm kidding. The parents have arrived and let's just say, Lola wasn't exaggerating."

  He dried off his hands. "Poor Lo-lo. Poor me," he said more emphatically. "I think I'll go grab some lunch. I can't meet them on an empty stomach."

  "Good point. You'll need all your strength. Hurry though. Lola was trying to get them out the door, only Cynthia seemed intent on inspecting for dust."

  "Oh man, that's going to leave Lola in knot. I'm heading out now, and I think I'll follow your earlier warning. I'm going to run down to the diner and not look back."

  Ryder dashed out the door and headed toward the diner. I was feeling oddly homesick for my own mom. The shop was empty so I pulled out my phone.

  "Lacey?" she always answered with a questioning tone
as if she thought possibly someone else had decided to use my phone to call her.

  "Who else?" I said back. "What's up, Mom? How are you guys doing?"

  "Why do you sound so nasal? Do you have a cold?"

  "I sound nasal? Well, that's a pretty way to sound. I don't have a cold," I said.

  "What's new?" she asked, without answering my questions. "Is there anything wrong? Are you still dating James? Is the flower shop doing all right? You could always go back into the perfume industry if the flower thing didn't work out."

  I smiled into the phone and briefly wondered if Cynthia Button and Peggy Pinkerton would get along. "Let's see. Nothing is new, except I did buy a new pair of sandals. Nothing is wrong. Yes, I'm dating James. Yes, the flower shop is fine. And I don't want to go back to the perfume industry, so hopefully, the flower thing will keep working."

  "Well, that's nice, dear. I didn't expect to hear from you today."

  "I know, Mom. I just missed you and thought I'd ring you up."

  Chapter 6

  I pulled the dish of lasagna out of the oven and placed it on the trivet. "Now, this is my first attempt at lasagna. It's my mom's recipe and it's delicious. Or at least it is when she makes it."

  Briggs turned away from Kingston. The two had been having a short conversation, although it was fairly one-sided. "I'm sure yours will be delicious too," he said. "Besides, I'm so hungry, I'm even looking forward to those vegan cookies Elsie sent over." He stared down at the plate of trail mix cookies. "Are you sure they're really vegan or did she sneak some butter and eggs in? Because I have to say, they smell great."

  "Yes, they are vegan and you'll love them. I told you the woman never did kicks. She's planning on creating an entire line of vegan treats for the bakery."

  "Jeez, Les," Briggs lamented, "what have you and your high cholesterol done to the rest of us?"

  "You have been spoiled with dairy and meat, sir. Now sit down and eat this meaty and cheesy lasagna."

  Briggs pulled out a chair and sat. He looked weary from a long day at work. I sensed that something had him a little distracted.

  I sat across from him and served us each a portion of lasagna. "Long strings of cheese," I said. "That's a good sign."

  "What sign? That I'll soon be joining Les in the high rolling cholesterol club?" He dropped a napkin on his lap.

  "Now I'm feeling guilty for feeding you this heart disease meal. But I worked for hours." I pushed the plate his direction. "So eat every last bite."

  Briggs sat forward and picked up his fork. The crease over his brow was more pronounced than usual.

  "Are you on a tough case?" I asked. "You look like you're worried about something." I sat forward excitedly. "Did someone get murdered? Do you need my sniffer?"

  A half smile formed on his face. "Most people don't ask about a murder with so much enthusiasm, but no, no one died. I don't need your cute little sniffer on this case. We're just waiting for a large shipment of drugs to be delivered to a group we've had under surveillance for months. Activity seems to be ratcheting up, so I think we'll see some action this week. Then we can make arrests."

  "That sounds dangerous," I said it lightly. I knew he didn't want me worrying about him, but it was impossible to ignore that Briggs had a dangerous job. I couldn't let myself think about it too much or I'd wind myself into a twist. "You should take over for Ryder when he leaves on his world adventure. Flower arranging is much safer."

  He finished a bite and nodded approvingly at the food. "Good lasagna. You might be a flower arranger, but you manage to get into plenty of sticky situations."

  "Only when I'm on a case with you. When I'm in my flowery world, it's all petals and perfumes. Speaking of perfumes, Lola and I delivered the sunflower arrangements to the dog show in Chesterton. The fragrances floating around those masterfully groomed dogs put ole' Samantha into overdrive." I tapped my nose. "Almost couldn't taste the taco salads we ordered for lunch. I saw our friend with the poodle too."

  His brows bunched together as he tried to figure out what poodle friend I was referring to.

  "The lady from last night. At the beach. Remember? Bear made a new friend."

  "Oh yeah, the lady who makes dog shampoo." He went back to his meal. The lines reappeared on his face.

  I put down my fork. "James," I said quietly. "Should I be worried?"

  "No, not at all. I'm sure it's just as delicious as your mom's," he teased.

  I reached my foot across to tap his toe. "Stop. You know what I mean. What team are you working with? It's not Officer Chinmoor, is it? He's a nice guy and all, but I hardly see him in a big drug sting operation."

  Briggs shook his head. "No, I've got a team from Mayfield working the case with me. Chinmoor is holding down the fort around here. And he's getting better at, you know, policing."

  "I'm sure he is but I feel better knowing you've got a Mayfield team working with you." Suddenly, the cheesy lasagna didn't look as tempting.

  Briggs peeked up and noticed I was just picking at my plate. "Lacey, you don't need to be worried. This is not my first big drug bust, and I doubt it will be the last." He reached across and took hold of my hand. "You aren't going to get rid of me that easy."

  I only half laughed. He saw that his comment wasn't helpful. "I'm sorry, baby. I won't tease you anymore," he said in that deep, mellow tone that always sent a wave of warmth through me, especially when he threw in the word baby.

  He sat back in his chair and picked up his fork. "This really is delicious. Might even have a second helping. I'll probably be too full to try the vegan cookies so when Elsie asks—"

  "No way, buddy. You're going to try a trail mix cookie, and I think you are going to be pleasantly surprised."

  His lashes lifted and he peered across the table at me. "Oh? Does that mean you already ate one?"

  I bit my lip coyly. "A cookie might have landed in my hand while I was preparing the lasagna. It was hard work and I needed nourishment. They are crunchy and delicious. So prepare to be amazed."

  "All right, if you say so. I'll try and keep an open mind. I just hope Les knows the sacrifices the rest of us are making on his behalf."

  Chapter 7

  For a second time in less than twenty-four hours, I was heading to the Chesterton Dog Show. Elsie's niece, Britney, had planned to sell Elsie's popular dog treats at the show, but she had come home so late from a date with Dash the night before, she woke with a headache. Britney said she couldn't stand in the sun all day, so the task fell to Elsie. It was going to be another reason for Elsie to complain about Britney's relationship with Dash, a rather tenuous and one-sided pairing that caused Britney enough anxiety that Elsie had begun to dislike Dash. I worked hard not to get involved in the matter at all. I was too close to members of both parties, so to speak. However, deep down, I hoped the whole thing would just end amiably. I was sure those were high hopes because Britney, who was in every way a superior, independent and talented young woman, had a terrible weak spot when it came to my handsome, charismatic friend and neighbor, Dashwood Vanhouten.

  Elsie drove like she lived, fast and efficiently. She turned sharply around a corner and, unfortunately, started on the topic of Britney and Dash. "Well, she's going to regret staying out so late. I had three orders for party cupcakes to fill today, so Brit is going to be busy baking and decorating. Selling dog treats at the park will be much easier. In fact, I look forward to the break," she said, but I wasn't totally convinced she meant it. Even though Britney was a highly skilled pastry chef, Elsie still liked to inspect and approve everything that left her shop. "All I know is that Dash has made a mess of things. (It wasn't the first time I'd heard her say it.) I'd finally found a great assistant. Britney was going to be such an asset to the business, all while learning the skills and ins and outs of running a bakery, then Dash had to step into the bakery with his thick blond hair and green eyes. He's not even all that handsome," she added.

  I raised a brow her direction.

  "All
right," she said. "He's very handsome, if you like that sort of Hollywood leading man kind of thing."

  I suppressed a laugh and searched quickly for a different topic. "Oh wow, I forgot to tell you, James ate three of those vegan cookies last night. He kept saying, I'll bet Elsie snuck in some butter and eggs. How else could they taste so good?"

  Elsie adjusted her sunglasses. The sky was clear. It was going to be a bright, hot day at the park. "James is just like Les. My brother refuses to believe that foods without butter, cheese and meat are real food." She chuckled. "Yesterday, Les tried to negotiate a new deal for the diet I've put him on. He told me he'd eat healthy all week, then go hog wild on the weekends with nachos and beer."

  I scooted down in the seat a bit. Elsie sensed my shrinkage. She glanced over at me. "Well, well, I guess I can see where this new idea came from," she said.

  I shot back up since the cat was out of the bag on Les's inspirational source. "In my defense, I didn't tell him to go hog wild. He looked so miserable yesterday as he picked through that bowl of vegetables."

  "Was Les walking around town with that veggie bowl?" Elsie pulled into the parking lot of the Chesterton Dog Show. There were very few vacant parking spots left. The park itself was overflowing with people and dogs.

  "Not around town. He came into the flower shop because he thought the healthy lunch might go down a little easier with friends. I'm afraid we weren't much help. Then Lola came in to lament her parents' imminent arrival. I exchanged a few words with Mom and Dad Button, by the way, and I think Lola is going to have a tough week."

  "Cynthia is a little sharp around the edges," Elsie said, "but I've always liked John. I still remember when they opened that antique store across the street. Lola was still in diapers, with hair as red as fire and a spirit to match."

  I laughed. "I'll bet she was a handful."

  Elsie parked a good distance away from the area where the dogs and stage were set up. A line of vendor tables had been organized along the walking path. Elsie handed me a box that was filled to the brim with cellophane wrapped dog treats. She pulled out another box with a tablecloth that was printed with puppies and three silver trays for displaying the goodies.