Authors: Heather Webber

Tags: #Contemporary Women, #Mystery & Detective, #Quinn; Nina (Fictitious character), #General, #Women Sleuths, #Fiction

Weeding Out Trouble (16 page)

BOOK: Weeding Out Trouble

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"But he stayed with her anyway? Was it a case of love is blind?"

She shook her head. "It had more to do with him wanting to save her."

"From?"

"Herself."

This explained a lot. Kit did have a tendency to play hero, to rescue damsels in distress. It was a large part of his appeal. The whole Beauty and the Beast syndrome.

The restroom door pushed inward, and an older woman gazed at us with owl-like eyes before rushing into a stall.

Before we were reported to the management for loitering, we left the restroom and headed back toward the crowd in the viewing room. Maddie was asking me about Perry when a bony hand reached out, clamped down on my arm, and wouldn't let go.

Twice. Twice I'd nearly been scared out of my panty hose in one day. That had to be a record.

Thankfully, this time the fear eased the moment I looked at the person who had hold of me. "Pippi!"

She was just the person I wanted to see.

My company, Taken by Surprise, Garden Designs, had done a mini-makeover on Lowther House, a très upscale retirement home, which was owned by Pippi Lowther, a dead ringer for Tweety Bird's cartoon owner.

"Nina, it's good to see you." Pippi's snow white bun wobbled as she kissed each of my cheeks. Several strands of her hair curled softly around her face, and as she turned to introduce herself to Maddie, I saw that the high-necked blouse she wore didn't quite cover the tattoo at the base of her neck.

"Lowther House," I explained to Maddie, "was one of the places Daisy worked as a therapist."

Maddie's eyes widened knowingly.

What she didn't know is that Pippi had taken Daisy's form of therapy to heart and started growing marijuana in a greenhouse in Lowther House's courtyard. That was a secret I'd promised Pippi I'd keep, much to her gratitude.

Just call me Nina Colette Ceceri to Each Her Own Quinn.

"Kit is your son, you say?" Pippi asked.

"He is."

"Lovely boy. Such muscles."

Seemed to me Pippi needed a date.

Maddie smiled but said nothing.

Pippi went on. "Daisy adored him. Spoke well of him always."

We stood to the side of the viewing room door, and people streamed in and out around us. "Yet she broke up with him," I felt the need to mention.

The deep lines around Pippi's eyes crinkled as she frowned. "She said she had her reasons. I didn't know what they were."

"Did she ever speak of Kent Ingless?"

"Who?"

That answered that.

"No one you want to know," I said.

The overhead spotlights picked up the flecks of gold thread running through Maddie's caftan as she waved to someone inside the room. "I'm being summoned. I'll talk to you later, Nina?"

"I'll call if I hear anything," I said.

"Ditto," she called out over her shoulder as she disappeared into the crowd.

Pippi clamped down on my arm again. "She doesn't know about the greenhouse, does she?"

"Not a thing. No one does, as far as I know."

"I can't tell you how grateful I am, how grateful the resi

dents of Lowther House are. Until the government comes to their senses, I'm afraid we're going to have to keep our little secret. Though I must tell you, Nina, dear, I nearly had a heart attack when the police showed up at my door the other day."

"The police?"

"Oh, yes. They wanted to speak to everyone who had anything to do with Daisy. Apparently they had learned of her," she dropped her voice, "alternate therapy."

Amazed that the police had actually been investigating, I leaned against the wall, nearly knocking a framed Thomas Kinkade print clear off.

"They didn't find—"

"No, they didn't search the premises, but I've been proactive. Until this all blows over, I've moved my growing operation to another location."

I thought maybe, just maybe, I ought to give Pippi's name to Ian, then decided against it. Though Ian wasn't above bending the rules from time to time, I couldn't imagine he'd be able to let Pippi's greenhouse thrive.

"Pippi, do you know if Daisy was involved in other forms of alternative therapy? Other illegal forms," I clarified, wiggling my eyebrows for added effect.

"Oh my. Oh dear. Not to my knowledge. Is that possible?"

"It's just a guess at this point."

Her thin lips set. "You ought to speak with Randall."

"Randall Oh?"

"You know him?"

"No. He's on my list of people to talk to."

"It's your lucky day. He's"—she stood on tiptoe—"right over there." She pointed to a young Asian man dressed in a really bad blue suit.

"Could you introduce me?" I asked.

"Sure thing." Throwing bony elbows, she started forward. Over her shoulder she added, "I'm going to miss Daisy."

"What was she like, really like?" I asked. "I keep getting mixed messages."

Pippi slowed to a stop, turned to face me. "Tough as nails. She had a lot of walls built up around her. Beneath the hard exterior, there was a heart of gold. Very few ever saw it, however, because she rarely let her guard down."

The description reminded me a lot of Kit. For the first time I could see what had attracted him to her, besides her natural beauty.

"You either loved her or hated her. There was little in between. Come," Pippi said, clamping onto my arm again. "Oh, and Nina? There's something you should know."

"What's that?"

"Randall and Daisy despised each other." With that she stormed ahead, leaving me in her wake, reeling with the shock of her statement.

Randall Oh zeroed in on us as we neared. I thought I saw a flash of panic sweep through his dark eyes.

Pippi barreled up. "Randall!" She hugged and air-kissed his cheeks. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Decorum, Pipster."

Pipster? I smiled despite myself. It was a cute nickname.

"I'm not a cruel and heartless bastard, Pips. Just because Daisy and I didn't see eye-to-eye doesn't mean I'm glad she's gone. No one deserves what she got." His hand shot out to mine. "I'm Randall Oh."

He stood an inch or two taller than my five-five and looked to be in decent shape. His hand was clammy.

"Nina Quinn," I said.

"I know. You're my hero. Daisy hated you."

"I've heard," I mumbled.

"Really?" Pippi exclaimed. "Who could hate
you
?"

"I could give you names."

Randall laughed, loud and boisterous. People turned, stared. He covered his mouth and lowered his eyes sheepishly.

"How's Ming these days?" Pippi asked him. "She hasn't been to book club in a while."

"She's fine. Fighting another cold. I think she's milking it. She wants me to move back in with her. As if. I already feel like I'm there more than I am home."

"She is getting older," Pippi said.

"Et tu, Pips?"

She laughed, then poked him with her elbow. "Nina was hoping to have a minute with you, to talk about Daisy. And her, ahem, freelance work."

Part of me wondered why we didn't just come out and say what we were talking about. Seemed to me most people in this room knew the truth.

Again, I saw a smidgen of fear sneak into Randall's eyes as they darted to the exit. It wouldn't be easy to get away, and he must have known it because he said, "Now?"

"If you've got a minute. It won't take long."

He checked his watch, glanced at the casket, shivvied a bit, then said, "Okay."

Pippi led the way to the door, elbows flying. She had the tactic down to a science.

I needed to take notes.

Out in the lobby, she settled onto a wooden bench. Randall sat next to her, his badly cut blue suit pulling tight across his body. He twirled his thumbs as if nervous.

My inner voice asked,
Why?

I informed it I was going to find out. I kept my voice low as I said, "There's no real delicate way of asking this . . . "

The
Match Game
theme song filled the air. I cursed the timing as I fumbled through my bag.

"Sorry," I said to Pippi and Randall, "it's my son's school."

"Take it, take it," Randall urged, looking pleased over the reprieve.

I answered to find the school nurse on the other end. "Mrs. Quinn, I have Riley here in the clinic."

The faker! He just wanted to get a day off to make up for the lost snow day. I was sure of it.

"He's running a 103 degree temperature, his throat is red, and he has an upset stomach."

Or maybe not.

"Are you available to pick him up, Mrs. Quinn?"

Grr, I hated the
Mrs
. Quinn. I should have gone back to my maiden name after the divorce. Hindsight is evil.

I looked at Randall, at Pippi. I didn't want to leave just yet. But Kevin couldn't drive. Bobby was playing poker. That left my mother or Brickhouse. "Could I call you right back?"

I heard a loud exhale. There went my Stepmother of the Year award. "Fine."

I stepped closer to the outer door, called home. No one answered. I dialed my mother's cell. Again no answer. I called Brickhouse and Mr. Cabrera. No one was there either.

Fabulous.

Snapping my phone closed, I pulled myself together and wandered back over to the bench. "I'm sorry, but I need to leave."

"Nothing serious?" Pippi asked.

"I hope not." To Randall, who looked much relieved, I said, "Could we meet? For coffee?"

"Sure," he agreed, and jotted down his phone number.

I headed for the door and turned to wave good-bye. That's when I saw Kent standing in the viewing room doorway, staring at the three of us, murder in his eyes.

Fifteen

The look in Kent's eyes had chilled me to the bone. I couldn't seem to get warm, no matter how high I turned up my truck's heater.

I took solace in the fact that Lewy and Joe were right behind me, lurking like a dark cloud on a sunny day. Except for a change I was glad to see them. If Kent truly was of a murderous mind, I was safe for the time being.

Or so I hoped.

Lewy and Joe didn't exactly inspire feelings of safety and security.

The roads were wet with melted snow, and the car in front of me kicked up enough water that I flipped on my wipers.

The back and forth motion soothed me as I thought about Daisy and her murder.

I went back to the conversation I'd had with Perry on Saturday. About motives.

Yes, I supposed Kit had a motive, thanks to Kent, but Kit didn't kill Daisy.

He wouldn't. Couldn't.

Now, I could see Kent killing whoever crossed his path. But why? Had he been jealous of Kit? Or . . . Kent had said he met Daisy through work. His or hers?

Suddenly I wondered if they were one and the same.

Kent had said, "I'm a chef of sorts."

Suddenly, something Ian said popped into my head.
Corazón is local to this area. We've been trying to track
down the supplier and manufacturer for months now.

Was it possible Kent was the manufacturer?

I quickly called Tam and asked a huge favor. One I hoped she didn't share with Ian.

She agreed and promised to get back to me within an hour.

I thought again about what Kent had said about Daisy. About how she'd been killed doing what she thought was right.

What
she
thought. Not what
was
right.

If—and it was just speculation at this point—Daisy wanted out of the drug business, and Kent manufactured the Ecstasy Daisy doled out, then he'd have plenty of motive to kill her.

My one problem with that theory was that I believed him when he said he'd loved her. Would he have chosen money over love? Was he that ruthless?

The answer was a quick yes.

I didn't rule out Randall Oh's involvement either. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask him. If he'd truly worked closely with Daisy, he would know all her secrets. He'd know for certain if she was dabbling in other illegal drugs. He'd know if Kent Ingless was her supplier. He'd know who might have a motive for killing her.

I couldn't forget that Randall and Daisy had been enemies. What had caused a rift between the two?

One thing I knew for sure: It would be foolhardy for me to meet with him alone. As of now, everyone was a suspect in my mind. Just because my first impression of Randall had been a good one didn't mean I should trust my instincts.

As I knew quite well, my instincts were often wrong.

Dead wrong.

I pulled up in front of Riley's high school and walked into the office to sign in. A weird sense of déjà vu came over me. This is where I'd first met Bobby, when he was Riley's principal. It seemed like a lifetime ago, yet it had only been seven months.

So much had changed.

"Do you know where the clinic is?" the receptionist asked.

I didn't recognize her, and was glad Bobby wasn't working there anymore, as she was young and cute and curvy in all the right places.

A girl could get seriously jealous.

"Yes, thanks."

I backtracked out of the office and walked into the clinic just in time to see Riley bend over and toss his cookies into a bedpan.

My stomach heaved.

I'd never been good with cookie-tossing.

The nurse wore a look on her face that told me she truly was the best person for her job. It was a mix of compassion and sympathy as she offered Riley a cool towel.

They both looked up at me, and the nurse had me sit immediately, worried about the lack of color in my face.

"I'm all right." I rose after a minute or two, testing my legs. "Thanks."

"You look worse than me, Nina," Riley said.

"Nina?" said the nurse, returning from rinsing Riley's pan. "This isn't your mom?"

BOOK: Weeding Out Trouble

9.89Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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