Roses and Revenge Page 5

  "Kingston," Jacob said with far more admiration than I'd ever heard from him when reciting my bird's name.

  His name, coming from a somewhat familiar voice, caused the crow to shift his focus away from the donuts and toward the group of people talking about him. Of course, I was still holding a donut, chocolate. His favorite.

  "I can't believe you still have that crow, but then you did love that bird. I was always jealous of him for that." Jacob pulled a shiny silver cigarette case from his coat pocket.

  "And I can't believe you still smoke those clove cigarettes. They used to make my eyes water."

  Alexander cleared his throat. "This sounds like my cue to leave."

  "Thank you for the donut."

  He hurried off.

  I turned back to Jacob.

  Jacob put the cigarette back into the box.

  "Don't put it away on my account. I just came to round up my bird. I need to get ready for work."

  He placed the box back into his coat pocket. "My throat is still sore. I don't think the clove cigarettes will help. And everything tastes weird after sucking on a lozenge."

  "Lacey," Hazel called excitedly as she flew down the portable steps of the catering trailer. She hurried across the lot waving her arms, causing Kingston to take off and head for a safe perch above.

  Hazel pointed up to the tree. "Was that Kingston?"

  "Yep, I followed him up here to make sure he wasn't terrorizing the crew." I smiled and turned to catch Jacob's reaction to my comment, but he was no longer standing next to me. I spotted his tall head back at the viewing spot he'd staked out for watching the photo shoot.

  Hazel took my arm. She noticed the abrupt departure as well. "He's been in a bad mood because Autumn and Jasper have been unusually handsy and flirty with each other during the photo sessions." She was practically mumbling, even though Jacob was out of ear shot.

  We moved a little closer to watch Lydia and her models at work.

  "I can't stay long. Was Lydia upset about the fog cover this morning?"

  "Nope. My prediction was right," Hazel said proudly. "Lydia thought the gloomy fog added to the gothic ambience of the place. But it took them forever to get enough lighting up."

  Autumn was dressed in a long dark pink off the shoulder gown and Jasper in a black suit and tie. From our vantage point it seemed they'd put extra zeal into the passionate embrace Lydia had asked for. Autumn giggled and leaned her head back, nearly dislodging the rhinestone trimmed bun at the back of her head. Jasper placed a kiss on her neck, and Autumn giggled some more.

  "Take this seriously, Autumn. This whole damn thing is costing a fortune," Jacob barked. He finished his angry command by pressing his hand to his throat.

  "Oh boy, Autumn is really pushing all his buttons today." Hazel's expression bordered on a satisfied smirk but then she washed it away quickly, aware that I'd noticed it.

  "He's obviously not feeling well. (I added, for some reason, on Jacob's behalf.) He gets grumpy when he's sick. I didn't realize Jacob and Autumn were that serious. She doesn't seem like his type. Or vice versa."

  "It's been an on again, off again thing for awhile." An irritated huff followed. "Autumn is a great manipulator of men. Almost have to sort of admire her for it."

  "As I recall, Jasper and Autumn were an item when they first signed with Georgio's Perfume." I looked back to check on Kingston. He was still perched in a tree.

  Hazel leaned closer, even though no one else could hear our conversation. "Yes, but it turned out that Jasper was just using Autumn. They had met at Fashion Week in Paris. Jasper badly wanted to sign with the big New York modeling agency that Autumn had been with since her teens. The breakup was sudden and not amicable. Or at least that was what I heard. They used to fight all the time. It is amazing they have any on-screen chemistry at all."

  "They sure seem to have it now," I noted. I glanced in Jacob's direction. He had lit up the clove cigarette anyway, and he was puffing angrily away on it.

  "That's a wrap for this morning," Lydia called. "You two need to rest and then get back into makeup. You both look like something that floated in with that horrible fog this morning."

  Jasper offered Autumn a gentlemanly hand down the steps of the porch. She accepted with a broad smile.

  "Seems like Autumn's forgiven him for the unseemly breakup," I said quietly as Jasper headed our direction.

  Jasper's face grew tight as he struggled to loosen the necktie. He stopped in front of Hazel. "Get this stupid thing off of me. It's choking the life out of me." He'd asked so rudely, I wanted to step in and offer him a few choice words, but it wasn't my place. I no longer worked for Georgio's Perfume.

  Hazel responded immediately and loosened the neck tie. Jasper stomped off without a thank you. She offered me a weak smile. "He's always grumpy because he's always tired."

  "That's very conciliatory of you, Hazel. I was going to say that some people get wiser and better with age, and some just get more obnoxious."

  Hazel laughed. "Boy, do I miss having you around the office, Lacey. Just not the same without you."

  Chapter 9

  I finished up with some dull paperwork and was lured to the front of the shop by a strong fragrance. "I smell sage."

  "Good call." Ryder scooped up several handfuls of dried sage leaves from the mound he had dumped on the island. "My mom's sage plants needed trimming. I've been drying it in the garage. That takes some of the bite out of the smell."

  "Yes, bite is a good word for it. I confess, I love the taste of sage in Thanksgiving stuffing, but the smell can be overwhelming for sensitive noses."

  Ryder pulled the spool of rustic twine off its spindle on the wall. "If you don't mind, I'm going to make bundles of the dried leaves. Many ancient cultures burn dried sage to help cleanse their spirits and aura. I thought it would be a fun novelty item for the store. I'll make a cool sign to go with it."

  "Absolutely. I'm all for cleaning spirits and auras."

  "That's what I love about you, boss. You never poo poo my ideas. No matter how bizarre they might be."

  I laughed. "Just call me the non-poo poo boss."

  Ryder's eyes rounded.

  I pointed to my ear. "Yes, that sounded bad out loud. And just for the record—my digestive tract is fine."

  I walked over to the stack of Valentine's orders piled up next to the cash register. "Wow, customers really like your bouquets, Ryder."

  "Seems that way. That reminds me, we need to order more yellow mugs for the chillin' bouquet. Apparently more people than ever are slow to make commitments these days."

  "That does seem to be the case. I'll go pull up the purchase order and buy a dozen more." I headed back to the office.

  "Hey, Lacey, there's that lady again. She popped her head into the shop earlier while you were in the office. She didn't want to disturb you, but I think she's back."

  I stepped back out of the short hallway just as Hazel entered the store. She was holding two of Lester's coffee mocha specials. "I don't want to keep you from your work, Lacey, but I hoped you could take a quick coffee break with me. The nice white haired man next door has the coolest tables and chairs. I've never seen counter high tables out on a sidewalk. And he has these marvelous heating lamps, so the whole place glows with warmth."

  "Yes, Lester puts a great deal of thought into his sidewalk tables." I winked at Ryder. It hadn't taken long for Ryder to figure out that a full blown table war was going on around our humble little shop. "Ryder, I'll just be ten minutes."

  "Sure thing."

  Hazel stretched up to see what he was working on. "Hmm, is that dried sage? I hear it's good for the soul to meditate while burning sage."

  Ryder nodded. "Yes, it is."

  Hazel handed me a coffee. "Thank you so much. I love Lester's coffee mocha." We walked out to the sidewalk. I took a quick look over my shoulder to make sure Elsie didn't see me walking over to Lester's table area. I'd found it was always best if I played neutral, the proverbial
Switzerland, when it came to the table war. I tried to encourage good ideas and discourage bad ones, like the cardboard Mr. Darcy. I also avoided sitting on either side.

  We sat on the table closest to the Coffee Hutch. Lester instantly caught sight of me and waved enthusiastically from behind his counter. With any luck, he wouldn't mention the visit to Elsie. (Who was I kidding?)

  Hazel and I hoisted ourselves up onto the tall stools. I cradled the hot cup of coffee in my hands to warm them.

  Hazel took a sip. "Hmm, that hits the spot. So . . . I got the rest of the scoop on the Jasper and Autumn relationship from Lydia. It became quite apparent that Jasper was just using Autumn to get into the agency and once he signed, he broke it off." She shook her head. "As you saw today, there is always so much drama at Georgio's Perfume. Even so, I'm sure I'll miss it when I leave."

  Her last comment caused me to suck in my coffee. I covered a cough and swallowed. "What do you mean? Are you leaving Georgio's Perfume?"

  She looked up at me in surprise. "Didn't I tell you? I was sure I mentioned it. I got an executive assistant job at Tremaine's Fashion House."

  I was dumbfounded. Hazel had been at Georgio's Perfume for years, and she was considered irreplaceable. "Hazel, I'm both shocked and excited. This has to be very hard on Jacob. He relies on you for everything."

  Her cheeks ballooned with her grin. "That's so kind of you, Lacey. But Jacob understood that it was time for me to move on." She reached over and took my hand. "But maybe don't mention it to him. He's in such a terrible mood with his cold and with the way Autumn has been teasing him, trying to make him jealous."

  "So is that what's happening? The flirty smiles and giggles we saw earlier at the photo shoot. She's trying to make him jealous?"

  "Sure looks that way to me." She sucked in a breath. "I wonder if it has to do with you. Maybe she wants to keep his attention off of you."

  I shook my head. "Hazel, that is a very flattering assessment, but it's also very wrong. I assure you Autumn is not the slightest bit threatened by my presence. She's young. She is still just playing games with him. He's a grown man. He'll figure it out. Once he gets his head clear of that cold."

  Hazel hunched forward and lowered her voice, signaling a juicy nugget was about to follow. Completely unnecessary considering we were alone at the tables. "If you ask me, I think Jacob is done with Jasper. I think he's considering just paying off the rest of Jasper's contract so he can get a new male face for the perfume." She unrolled her shoulders. "But that's just pure speculation on my part."

  "Well, if anyone can speculate about Jacob's next move, it's you, Hazel. You know him better than anyone."

  "I have to agree." She lifted her cup. "It's so great to be able to talk to you again, Lacey."

  "It is indeed." I lifted my cup and we toasted with our coffees.

  Chapter 10

  Early in the morning, I'd promised myself to carve out a section of time in the afternoon for a trip to the library, a quaint but impressive library in the neighboring town of Chesterton. The bookshelves were brimming with fiction and non-fiction, but I was there to visit the back room that was filled with decades of newspaper articles and, in particular, preserved copies of the century old Chesterton Gazette.

  I pulled into the lot and nearly blushed with shame at how long it had been since I'd been there. The two evergreen saplings that were mere spindles on my last visit had thickened in trunk and pine needles. I'd been remiss in my self-appointed duty of murder mystery detective. Almost since I'd first heard of the terrible murder-suicide that wiped out the entire Hawksworth family, I had wanted to learn more about it. And the more I discovered, the more it seemed that the events of that terrible night had gone very differently than stated in the final police report, a report that was comically brief and simple for such a horrendous crime.

  I headed up the stone path to the barn red building and walked through the blue front door. Tilly Stratton, the head librarian, was easy to recognize with her overlong front teeth and her bowl haircut. The odd haircut was either extremely unfashionable or so unique it could be considered fashionable, like those strange, outlandish accessories that designers paraded down the runways in New York and Paris. But given the rest of Tilly Statton's attire, a prim gray sweater, blouse and gray skirt, it was easy to lean away from the high fashion theory. I silently chastised myself for even thinking unkindly about her appearance as she flashed me a gracious smile.

  "Hello." She squinted behind her round glasses. "The Chesterton Gazette and the Hawksworth Murders, right?"

  "Wow, that's impressive considering it's been a few months since I've been here. And I'm embarrassed to say that out loud. As a kid, I spent a lot of summer hours at the local library. I miss those carefree days."

  Tilly reached into a drawer and pulled out a set of keys. "I'll bet you read a lot of mysteries."

  "Once again. Impressive." I followed her through the stacks where tables and chairs rounded off every row of books. Tilly stopped to pick up a book that had fallen off a shelf. She tucked it back into its place, and we continued through to the back room where the local archives were stored.

  The musty scent of old paper and ink struck us as Tilly opened the door to the back room. The smell was slightly overwhelming, which meant the door had probably not been opened recently. Several tables and chairs sat in the center of the room. The shelves that lined the three walls were stacked high with newspapers. Each shelf was labeled with a date and the name of the periodical stored there.

  Tilly walked to the table and pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box, a precaution to keep oil off the crispy, old newspapers. She handed me the gloves. "Remember to wear these and use as many note cards as you like. Please leave the newspapers on the table so I can shelve them when you're finished. By the way—" she walked to a set of file drawers near the door. "These drawers contain microfiches."

  My mouth opened in surprise.

  My reaction caused her to laugh. "Yes, I know. We are probably the last library in the United States to still have some documents on microfiche." As she spoke, she walked to the nearby closet and opened the door. "And a microfiche machine. It's kind of a dinosaur, but it still works. The documents stored in the cabinet are mostly birth, death and marriage certificates from the early part of the last century. We just haven't had time to transfer anything to digital storage. But you're welcome to look through them. They are nicely organized alphabetically."

  "Great. I think that's all I need then. Thank you so much."

  Tilly walked out. I pulled my previous note cards out of my coat pocket to remind myself of all the pertinent information I'd found so far. My short tour through the gardener's shed, where the town had set a few personal items from the home to lure tourists to the site, had produced one valuable item, a police photograph. The photograph of the freshly murdered Bertram and Jill Hawksworth showed Mr. Hawksworth, the purported murderer, with a gun in his right hand. But a 1901 newspaper clipping I'd found in the archives showed a very much alive Bertram Hawksworth signing the documents for his future shipyard, a shipyard that never got built. He was holding the nib pen in his left hand, which meant he was left-handed. It was a clear indication that the gun had been placed in his right hand, something the first officer investigating the case had noted. But that officer was transferred to another station right after the murder so he was never able to follow up on the inconsistency. The next person in charge signed off on the case, closing it as murder and suicide.

  As I pulled on the thin latex gloves, I walked along the shelves reading the dates. The murder took place in October of 1906. I decided to concentrate on the years between 1901 and 1906. Mr. Hawksworth's shipyard was never built. A quick tour of the coastline along Port Danby was proof of that, but there had to be more to it. The construction of a big shipyard would have meant considerable change for a small town like Port Danby. It would have meant jobs and expansion of towns and neighborhoods, just as much as it would have meant chaos a
nd a disruption of the otherwise picturesque and serene coastline.

  A second 1901 newspaper picture had shown a jovial, excited Bertram Hawksworth about to break ground for the shipyard. I decided to thumb through the headlines for the year 1902. Detective Briggs had mentioned that he'd heard a court order had stopped the building of the shipyard. I hoped to find something about it. A large financial endeavor like a shipyard had to come with some political or business enemies. Having his big plans cut short must have been devastating to Bertram Hawksworth.

  I'd worn my strongest reading glasses. My eyes passed back and forth over the headlines, skimming names and places hoping to come across some important keywords. After some perseverance and an itchy nose from decades of old dust, I spotted an important headline; Hawksworth Shipyard Dead in the Water. I pulled the newspaper free of the stack and took it to the table.

  The front page picture was of a stout older man with a ramrod straight, imperious posture, not uncommon for a Victorian photo. He was sitting behind a large desk. A woman was standing next to him holding a ledger of some kind under her arm. The man's big, pillowy face was lined with fuzzy sideburns. His expression was noticeably smug. The paper had yellowed a great deal and print quality was lacking at the turn of the century. I lowered my face to read the caption. "Mayor Harvard Price and Port Danby treasurer Jane Price."

  It seemed I was looking at Mayor Price's relative. I knew that the Price family had held the mayor's seat for many years. Now I was seeing proof of it. The more I looked at the picture, the more I could see a smidgen of Harlan Price in the man's face.

  I read the article, which was a short summary of the court's decision to block the building of the Hawksworth Shipyard. Mayor Harvard Price had asked the courts to intervene, deciding it was in the best interest of the community to stop the shipyard. The journalist noted that it had been a very risky move on the part of the mayor, as many folks from the surrounding towns were looking forward to working at the shipyard. There was no mention of a comment from Bertram Hawksworth, but I could only imagine how angry and disappointed he was after losing in court. Maybe he snapped after that. Maybe the loss drove him to insanity, which eventually drove him to kill his whole family.