Dahlias and Death Read online

  Mom leaned forward to look at Dad. "I forgot Les was a retired fireman. Well, that's nice of him. Are you still going fishing tomorrow morning?" she asked.

  "Sure am. As long as he doesn't get called to any big fires tonight." It was obvious that Dad was excited about his fishing trip with Les. They were well suited to each other. I had no doubt they'd get along like cereal and milk. Mom and Elsie's planned baking event, on the other hand, had me less confident.

  "Are you baking with Elsie tomorrow?" I asked.

  "Yes, in the evening. After she's done with her work day." Mom shook her head. "That woman has the energy of a hummingbird."

  I picked up my bottle of iced tea. "Yep, I'm thirty years younger and she can run circles around me. Literally. I've tried to run with her occasionally, but I always end up feeling like an out of shape slug next to her."

  Mom clicked her tongue. "Nonsense. You look wonderful. Dad and I were just saying that." She leaned forward again. "Isn't that right, Stan?" Dad was already focused on the next light display, which seemed to be building to the finale. Mom huffed at his inattention and sat back. "We were both saying how wonderful and happy you looked. Except last night, after the picnic." She put up her hands. "But you don't have to tell me a thing. Just know that we are proud of what you've done here, and any man would be lucky to have you."

  "Not sure how the two things are connected but thanks, Mom." I had to talk very loudly to be heard over the thunderous booms above. A quick succession of big explosions in gold, silver, blue and red covered the sky like glitter tossed on a black floor. Even the stars above looked impressed. I leaned closer to Mom and raised my voice over the clamor. "I am happy in Port Danby. It's a quiet, peaceful town," I said loudly just as the noise above ended. The rest of the beach was quiet, the onlookers awestruck by the finale, so my voice carried across the sand.

  The silence in our quiet, peaceful town was suddenly broken by a woman's scream. A murmur vibrated across the sand as people looked around to find the source of the sound. "Help!" a woman yelled from across the grassy knoll in front of the lighthouse. "Call the police. I think she's dead."

  The murmurs erupted into gasps and alarmed voices as people hopped to their feet. "Stay here," I said as I pushed to my feet. "I'll go see what's happening." A small crowd started to gather under the tree and around the garden club booth. A siren pierced the air, but the sharp sound was dulled by the low thump in my ears leftover from the fireworks. It seemed as much as I wanted to avoid Detective Briggs this evening, I was about to run smack into him.

  "Excuse me," I said and made my way between the press of bodies gathering around the garden booth. "Please let me through." I could smell my basil and rosemary pots as I squeezed my way up to the front. But it wasn't just herbs and the leftover smell of fireworks penetrating my nose. It was the metallic scent of blood.

  I elbowed my way to the table and looked over the boxes of herbs. Jenny Ripley was lying face down on the grass, her back covered in blood. It didn't take an expert or my short stint in medical school to know she was dead.

  Chapter 19

  I was completely annoyed that the mere sound of his voice sent a lone butterfly fluttering around my stomach. Especially considering the grisly scene in front of me. Doubly so because I knew the victim. I'd only just become acquainted with Jenny Ripley when I joined the garden club, but I couldn't understand why anyone would want to kill her. She was a sweet, energetic, smart woman.

  "Officer Chinmoor, please get these people back at least thirty feet. Folks, make room for the paramedics." Detective Briggs sounded more stiff than usual.

  I finally willed myself to look back toward the sound of his voice. Our gazes latched on to each other's briefly before splitting apart. I could almost hear a snap as the line of sight between us broke.

  "Folks, you've got to move back. You are impeding the first responders from doing their jobs." Officer Chinmoor, the young officer who was second in charge at the Port Danby Police Station, was always far less patient and far more dramatic with his orders at a crime scene. He was about to scoop me up in the crowd as he urged everyone back until Briggs spoke up.

  "Miss Pinkerton can stay."

  I had mixed feelings about it. I was thrilled to be included in the murder investigation, but at the same time, I felt taken for granted. What if I didn't want to be included at the crime scene? I wasn't on payroll, after all. I nearly laughed at that thought. Who was I kidding? Of course I wanted in on the investigation. And poor Jenny Ripley. She was just selling a few herbs for the garden club funds and she ended up dead. Shot in the back, from what I could see. Her sparkly hat, the one that had caused a stir, sat next to her head as if it had been pushed off in her fall.

  Two paramedics circled behind the front of the booth and crouched down next to the victim. I already knew what their assessment would be. And so did Briggs. But it was always better to put on a hopeful show for the surrounding onlookers. It was less shocking.

  Backup police from the neighboring town pulled up with lights spinning. I scanned the crowd and saw Molly's face, looking pale and stunned. Carla and Vernon were standing farther back in the group. It seemed it wouldn't be long before the entire town knew that Jenny Ripley was dead. Briggs turned to Chinmoor. He was doing an admirable job getting the anxious townsfolk back.

  "Chinmoor, now that backup is here, let's clear the entire area. Also, find the person who discovered the body. I need to ask her some questions."

  The paramedic, a young man who looked fresh out of medic school, looked up at Briggs and shook his head.

  "It's a gun shot," I said.

  Briggs was standing right next to me, but he didn't look my way as he answered. "It would appear so." He pulled out his phone. "Nate Blankenship is on call tonight at the coroner's office." After the awkwardness of the night before, we had been thrown unceremoniously together by an unexpected murder.

  "Lacey? Lacey," Mom's worried tone rose from the crowd. She pushed Officer Chinmoor's arm out of the way and marched across the lawn toward the murder scene.

  Before I could tell her to go back, Briggs spoke up sharply. "Ma'am, we need you to stay back and away from the scene."

  Mom's mouth dropped in dismay at his tone.

  I rushed toward her. "Mom, you've got to stay back with the others." I walked her back to where Dad was standing.

  "Sorry, kiddo, I tried to hold her back, but when she saw you standing there with the paramedics, she broke free." Dad took Mom's hand. "Peggy, let Lacey do her work."

  "Thanks, Dad."

  "Don't do anything dangerous," Mom called as I headed back to the scene. Behind me I could hear Dad.

  "How can it be dangerous, Peggy? She is literally surrounded by police officers and paramedics. If she was going to face down danger, this would be the perfect time for it."

  I bit my lip to avoid smiling at Dad's comment. It was most definitely not a time for a smile.

  Briggs met me as I headed back to the scene. "I'm sorry, I didn't see that it was your mom."

  "No, you were right to send her back," I said coldly and firmly. "Do you need me to do my nasal inspection?” I sounded so business-like, I hardly recognized my own voice.

  Briggs paused. It seemed he was thrown off by my distant tone. "Uh, yes, if you don't mind."

  "Very well." I headed confidently to the body. Lights had been brought in, and they highlighted Jenny's hands. Just a few days ago, I'd taken a tray from those hands, hands that spent hours embroidering pillows and labeling an extremely organized house.

  "Miss Pinkerton?" Briggs' voice came through the moment of sadness. "Are you all right?"

  I cleared the lump from my throat. "Yes, sorry. I'm fine."

  "You knew the victim, didn't you?" he asked. I was trying to ignore the empathy in his deep, smooth voice. It only added to the vast, confused mix of feelings I had about the man.

  I cleared my throat a second time. "We recently became friends when I joined her garden club."
>
  "Yes, I knew you were part of that." He pointed to the box of herbs. "Are these yours?"

  "Yes, they were my contribution to the booth. That way I didn't have to spend time sitting behind this table. Of course, at the time, I had plans for the firework show." I looked plainly at him.

  "I'm sorry." He reached up and smoothed his longish hair back. It did that little curl up the collar thing it always did when it got just a bit too long.

  "Sorry for what?" I said flippantly. "I had a wonderful time regardless. At least until this." I circled the counter and entered the booth. The rhinestones on the patriotic cap sparkled like diamonds under the police lighting. Several of the silver stud stars were on the edge of the back table where Jenny lay. A few more had broken off and landed in the grass next to the hat. I ran my nose close to Jenny. Gory wounds didn't usually affect me. Medical school had hardened me to blood and death but tonight was different. I closed my eyes as I neared the bullet hole in the back of Jenny's dress. The overwhelming scent of blood masked everything else. I could hardly even pick up the scent of grass beneath her.

  I moved to her hands, deciding if there was anything of note it would be on her fingers. The heady mix of herbs pummeled me but there was a hint of something else in between the earthy aroma of basil and rosemary. I stopped and sat up to take a breath of air and clear my sinuses. I leaned down again and breathed in. Separating out the smells in my mind, I came up with the mystery smell. Cinnamon. It was faint but it was a smell that was easy to discern no matter how many odors swirled around it.

  Briggs politely offered me his hand to help me to my feet. I used the edge of the table instead. His disappointment was palpable.

  "Blood, grass, smoke from overhead, herbs." I pointed out the pots unnecessarily. "And a touch of cinnamon." It almost sounded as if I was reciting a recipe.

  Briggs had out his notebook but there wasn't much to write. Every scent was expected with the exception of cinnamon.

  "Cinnamon?" He double checked before writing it down. He tapped his pen on his chin. "Wasn't Jenny the judge in the pie contest?"

  "I believe so." My answers were curt and brief. Just wasn't in the mood for cumbersome dialogue or the usual banter tonight. But his question reminded me of the argument I had witnessed between Jenny and Molly.

  I looked past him to the crowd that had been moved farther back. I couldn't find Molly amongst them. Many of the onlookers had left the scene. It had been a long night of festivities, which ended rather abruptly with an ugly murder. It seemed most didn't need to see any more of the tragic scene. I couldn't blame them. As much as I loved a mystery, this one left me feeling down. Jenny just didn't seem like the type of person someone would hate enough to kill.

  Officer Chinmoor was escorting a woman across the grass. She looked hesitant about getting too close to the garden club booth. Which made sense, of course. She was a sixty something woman who I'd seen working at the pharmacy. Her skin color matched her gray hair and she gripped Chinmoor's arm for support.

  "Detective Briggs," Officer Chinmoor called from a good twenty feet away. "Mrs. Terrence doesn't want to get any closer. She's the woman who discovered the victim."

  I followed along with Briggs. He didn't tell me to stay behind, but something told me, this evening I could do anything and he wouldn't dare say no. Besides, we'd gotten fairly comfortable in our routine. He was even willing to refer to me as his assistant on certain occasions.

  "Mrs. Terrence," Briggs wrote her name as he spoke. "Thank you for returning. I know this is difficult and I'm sure you want to go home and rest, but if you could just tell me what happened tonight."

  Mrs. Terrence's blue eyes landed on me. I nodded politely. She took a shuddering breath. "The fireworks show was about to end—I could tell because it was getting extra loud. It always gets terribly loud at the end."

  Briggs stopped writing and prodded her to continue with his Detective's smile, a subdued, somber version of the real thing.

  "Anyhow, I thought I would swing by the garden club booth to get some basil and rosemary. I knew that they'd be shutting down as soon as the festival ended, so I hurried over just as the fireworks were ending. The garden club booth was over here, away from everything else. As I walked toward it, I was disappointed. I didn't see anyone so I was sure they'd closed up. But I saw the herbs and I thought, well, I could leave some money and just take what I needed." She covered her mouth to stifle a sound that seemed half sob and half sigh of disbelief. "And as I picked up the pot of basil, I glanced down." Her voice wavered.

  I reached across and patted her arm. It seemed to help calm her.

  "There she was, laying there, not moving, with blood all over her dress." She sucked in a breath. "Poor Jenny. Poor, poor Jenny."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Terrence." Briggs closed his notebook. "Officer Chinmoor, please see that she gets home all right." Chinmoor led the shaken woman away.

  "You know everyone in the club, right?" Briggs asked.

  "Yes."

  He walked back to the booth and picked up a piece of paper that had been tucked under the herbs. It was a schedule. "According to this schedule, Molly was supposed to be running the booth from seven until nine. Do you know if she's here tonight?"

  "Yes, I think she is. And I don't know if this is relevant, but I saw Molly and Jenny arguing earlier in the evening. Might have had something to do with the pie contest."

  "Great, then I guess I'll start with Molly."

  Chapter 20

  The coroner's van pulled up before Briggs could start any interviews. He gave Officer Chinmoor a list of some of the people he wanted to talk to before they left for the night. It was basically the garden club members, Molly Brookhauser, Carla Stapleton and Virginia Kent. He already knew I was sticking around so he didn't add me to the list.

  While Nate Blankenship examined the body, I searched out my parents. They were sitting on the pier watching the boats in the marina. A breeze had kicked up to agitate the water in the slips just enough to make the moored boats look as if they were part of a synchronized dance. It was helping to move the smoky haze from the air. Mom had draped the sitting blanket around her shoulders. She hunched down into its warmth.

  Dad saw me first. "There you are, Lacey. We need to get Mom home. It's getting cold out here on the water and she has a headache."

  Mom popped her face free of the blanket. "It's not a terrible headache, just a dull ache from all that noise."

  "Noise," I repeated. Obviously Jenny was shot during the fireworks show. That was why no one heard it. I tucked that revelation away. "Mom, there's some aspirin in the medicine cabinet. Why don't you take a warm bath when you get home."

  Both of them looked surprised. "Aren't you coming with us?" Dad asked.

  "I'll probably stick around and help Detective Briggs for awhile longer."

  Mom gave an angry shake to rid herself of the heavy blanket. From the lift of her chin, I sensed I was about to hear her ardent opinion about something. And I was fairly certain of the topic.

  "I don't know why you help that man with anything. First, he breaks off your plans for the fireworks show. Then he was extremely rude to your own mother. That neighbor of yours, Dash, now he is a gentleman. If you ask my opinion—"

  "Which she did not—" Dad muttered.

  Mom ignored his comment. "I think you are focusing your efforts too much on the wrong man."

  That was my mom, she could sandwich unwanted advice between even less wanted opinion, then top the whole thing off with a zinger. And all with a headache.

  "Mom, I'm not focusing my efforts on anything but my own life."

  "Good girl," Dad cheered quietly. He knew he was going to hear about his interjections later but that didn't stop him.

  "And this has nothing to do with my neighbor or the detective. Who, by the way, would have spoken that way to anyone who thought she had the right to break through the police line and barge onto a murder scene."

  "There was no line," Mom in
sisted with another chin lift.

  "It's implied. When you see a crowd of people jammed together and no one's toes are going past a certain point, that's a police line. And I'm staying because I like to help out on investigations. I'm good at it and it gives me a chance to use my hyperosmia for something other than smelling Elsie's baked goods through the shop wall. Besides, Jenny, the dead woman, was a friend of mine. I want to help find her killer."

  Dad stood up and offered Mom his hand. She basically slapped her palm down on his. Yep, he was going to get an earful tonight.

  He winked at me. "You go curly haired Sherlock. I'll get Mom home and to that bath. She'll feel better in the morning."

  Mom got up. Her chin was still high in the air. "I feel just fine. But I don't think we should leave our little girl out here alone on this cold beach with murderers stalking about the place."

  Dad swept his arm toward the street. "Again, Peggy, she's surrounded by law enforcement people. I think she'll be fine. Let's go before you work yourself into a migraine. Or until you pass that headache on to me."

  I saw my parents off and headed back across the lawn to the murder scene. Officer Chinmoor was just finishing up his favorite duty of enclosing the scene with yellow caution tape as I reached the booth. My little pots of herbs looked wilted and sad in the midst of it all. It was hard to believe just hours earlier the location was a garden club fundraising booth and now it was the focal point in a homicide. While we occasionally came across a scene where it wasn't immediately known if it was murder or an accidental death, it was crystal clear this time. Jenny's ruthless killer had seemingly shot her in the back.

  The coroner was briefing Briggs. His assistants were moving Jenny's body onto the gurney. I took a closer look at her face. There was a long, thin gash on her forehead and grass on her mouth. Her hat had already been picked up and placed in an evidence bag along with the single pot of thyme she had apparently been holding when she fell. My herb pot was going to be sitting in the evidence room along with the festive hat. The team was still searching for the weapon.