Dirty Rotten Tendrils (14 page)

“This probably isn’t important, but Cody also said he hired bodyguards to protect him from the killer, yet I happen to know he came into town with those guards. He couldn’t have known in advance that he needed that kind of protection.”

“Now you sound like a lawyer. Maybe you should have applied yourself more in law school.”

I couldn’t suppress my shudder. Nine horrendous months of struggle had left a permanent bad taste in my mouth. “It wasn’t a good fit, Dave. Even if I had been able to pass the tests, you know how I feel about injustice. I wouldn’t have been able to stand jerks like the Lip. I’d be arrested for contempt within an hour of setting foot in the courtroom.”

“A good lawyer has to ignore the jerks, Abby, and stay focused on his client’s needs, which is what I must do now. My focus is to make sure Cody’s allegations don’t hurt Andrew’s chances of getting a fair judgment. I’d better call Andrew right now and remind him not to give any statements so he doesn’t do anything to damage his case.”

“Oh. Then you didn’t hear about Andrew’s stunt last night.”

“Andrew’s stunt?”

“He jumped onstage during Cody’s performance and called him a fraud. The cops had to take him away. I’m amazed you didn’t get a phone call.”

“They must have released him. I’d better have a serious talk with that boy.”

“You’ll probably get a call from WNCN, too. They want Andrew to appear tomorrow for a rebuttal.”

“Do you have any
good
news for me today?”

“I will after my trip to Whispering Willows. Good luck with your interview.”

 

 

Mornings at Bloomers always start with cups of Grace’s gourmet brew and a discussion of current events as we prepare for the day. So over several cups of coffee, we analyzed the report on Lipinski’s death, Cody’s evening performance on the courthouse lawn, his dull performance on television, and my conversation with Dave and subsequent quest to find witnesses. Grace informed us that Lipinski’s funeral had been scheduled for Friday evening, and Lottie reported that Cody had agreed to judge a local talent competition, which her sons planned to enter. I was betting Tara and her Code Bluebird girlfriends would, too.

Once we’d thoroughly dissected those topics, the ladies prepared to open the shop for the day while I headed to the workroom to start on the orders that had come in overnight. At nine thirty, Lottie breezed in to replenish our supply of flowers in the display case up front. She was followed by Grace, who carried a tray with a steaming pot of green tea.

“Isn’t it odd that no orders have come in for Lipinski’s funeral?” I asked, taking a cup of tea from her.

“Perhaps they’ll come in later,” Grace said. “The obituary was in the paper only this morning.”

“Or maybe the Lip was such a jackass, no one wants to buy him flowers even as a send-off,” Lottie cracked as she opened the door to one of our big walk-in coolers.

Grace cleared her throat loud enough to bring us to a standstill. “I believe we should bear in mind the words of Henri Frederic Amiel,” she began, “who said, ‘Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are traveling the dark journey with us. Oh, be swift to love; make haste to be kind.’”

At that moment, the bell over the door jingled, so, giving Lottie a pointed glance, Grace glided out of the workroom to see to the customer.

Lottie waited a beat, then said, “Was she scolding me?”

“I think so,” I said.

“She must sit up at night memorizing those quotes.” Lottie noticed what I was making and came closer for a look.

“Do you like it?” I asked. “It’s a dinner arrangement for Donna, the owner of A Window on the Square. She wanted something contemporary. This vase is perfect, isn’t it?”

I turned the arrangement so Lottie could see the clear glass vase we’d received in a shipment only the day before. It was ten inches tall, a foot long, and ultra narrow, reminding me of a fish that looked wide from the side, but was a mere sliver in the water from the front.

To fill the vase, I’d combined bold yellow tulips with a variety of bright orange canna lily called Wyoming. I cut all the stems short so they’d stand just a few inches above the top of the vase, then added water. The result was a striking, modern arrangement in which the glass container was integral to the design.

“You’ve really developed an eye, sweetie,” Lottie said. “That’s a beauty.”

Her praise gave me a warm glow, something I’d never experienced in law school. Before coming to Bloomers I’d felt like such a failure. How lucky I was to have found a place where I fit.

I wrapped the arrangement to protect it from the elements, set it carefully inside a box, and put sturdy pieces of foam padding around it to keep it from tipping. As I was tagging it, Marco called.

“Hey, you’re awake!” I said. “I have lots of news for you.”

“Hey, yourself, Fireball,” he answered in a sleepy, sexy voice. “I just stepped out of the shower and wanted to tell you about the dream I had—about
you
.”

He spoke in a deep, caressing tone that caused tingles to heat up my body in all sorts of interesting places, making me forget all about my news. I lowered my voice so Lottie and Grace wouldn’t hear me. “A good dream?”

“Wish I had you here to show you how good,” he murmured, making my blood pulse with desire.

I sighed, imagining Marco with a towel around his torso, his hair still wet, his skin gleaming, his eyes beckoning . . . “Wish I had time to run over there.”

“We have to make time.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’d rather show you,” he said huskily.

I had to sit down and fan my face. “That makes two of us.”

“These late-night surveillances have put a crimp in our love life.”

“What are you doing today at noon?”

There was a pause, and then he said softly, “Waiting for you.”

Hearing that, I was ready to drop everything and make a dash for my car. But common sense prevailed. “Noon it is, Salvare. I’m heading over to Whispering Willows on a mission for Dave right now, but I’ll be back in plenty of time.”

At that, Marco was all business. “What kind of mission?”

“To find witnesses who saw Dave visiting his mom Monday.” I didn’t remind him that I’d wanted to do that from the beginning. No need to spoil the mood. “But let me start at the beginning. First of all, this morning on live TV, Cody Verse insinuated that Andrew killed the Lip.”

“Based on what evidence?”

“No evidence. That’s just what Cody believes. He also thinks Andrew may come after him next. His appearance was followed by a news bulletin announcing that investigators have ruled Lipinski’s death a homicide.”

“I’m not surprised. A guy like Lipinski doesn’t kill himself. But I wonder what led the detectives to that conclusion.”

“Me, too, because Dave was called in for another interview.”

“Damn,” Marco muttered.

“So Dave asked if I would find witnesses for him, hence my trip to the nursing home.”

“Once the DA gets the official toxicology report, I’m sure Dave will be exonerated, but if finding witnesses helps in the short run, so much the better. I’ll give Reilly a call to see if he’s heard anything about the investigation he can share with us.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“See you around noon, then?”

“You’d better believe it.”

I stowed my cell phone in my purse along with copies of Dave’s photo that Martha had faxed over. I was about to put on my coat when the bell over the door jingled up front and I heard Lottie say, “Abby’s busy, Jillian. Wait. Don’t go back there. Let me see if—”

The curtain parted and Jillian swept into the workroom, fairly bursting with excitement. Lottie pulled back one side of the curtain long enough to give me a
Sorry, there was no stopping her
shrug, then quickly dropped it again.

Jillian was dressed, as always, très chic
.
Her long copper-colored hair was pulled into a ponytail, held in place by a shiny yellow scrunchie, and she wore a fashionable bright orange belted trench coat, white jeans, and a pair of gold espadrilles with a wedge heel. She opened an enormous gold tote bag and began to pull garments from it.

“Wait till you see what I picked out for La Lila.”

“Seriously, Jillian—you’re not choosing Lila’s clothing for her.”

She seemed stunned that I would say that. “Yes, I am.”

“You actually met with Lila Redmond to discuss her clothes?”

“Yes.”

I studied my cousin for a long moment, but her gaze never wavered. “When?”

“This morning in her hotel room.”

I donned my peacoat and put the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “How did you get an interview with her?”

Jillian thought a moment, then shrugged. “I think she got tired of saying no.”

Just because Jillian had pestered Lila until she agreed to see her didn’t mean that Lila had agreed to let Jillian dress her. That was just my cousin being obtuse. But I held my tongue.

“Take a look at these frocks,” she said.

“Sorry, Jill, but the fashion show will have to wait. I’m on my way to deliver flowers.”

She peered into the box. “You’re delivering that?”

“Yes,
that.
What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s so—linear.” She began to fold up the dresses. “Where are you taking it?”

I picked up the box and started toward the curtain. “To A Window on the Square. And FYI, the arrangement is supposed to be linear to play up the shape of the vase.”

“If you’re going to A Window on the Square,” she said, sliding the dresses into her tote, “I’ll go with you. I love that shop. Then we can come back here and look at the dresses.”

“I have an appointment afterward. Sorry.” I went through the curtain with my cousin on my heels.

“What kind of appointment? Doctor? Manicure? Hair? . . . I hope.”

She hoped? I glanced at my reflection in a wall mirror as I passed through the shop. A straight bob is a straight bob. I didn’t have time to fuss over it. “I have to interview some people at Whispering Willows.”

I paused to let Lottie know I was leaving. She was on the phone at the cash counter taking an order and nodded as I waved good-bye.

Jillian opened the door for me and followed me outside. “Isn’t Whispering Willows where they care for people with Alzheimer’s?”

I nodded to a pair of ladies I recognized as regulars in our coffee-and-tea parlor as we started up Franklin toward Lincoln Avenue. “One of their facilities is.”

Jillian sucked air through her teeth. “The interview is for Grace, isn’t it? I knew something was wrong with her. She always forgets to give you my messages, and I’ve heard the memory is the first thing to go. Oh, Abby, what will you do without her?”

“There’s nothing wrong with Grace. Her memory is fine.” I knew that because Grace never forgot to give me Jillian’s messages. I just conveniently forgot to reply to them.

“Then why are you going?”

“To find people who remember seeing Dave Hammond there on Monday evening.”

“Abby, think about
where
you’re going. Do you really expect them to remember?”

“I hope so.”

“Then I’ll ride along so I can show you the dresses while we’re in the car. I really need your opinion. You’re not a fashionista, but you do have an eye for color.”

She was nothing if not persistent. “I don’t think you should go to Whispering Willows.”

“Why? Crotchety old people love me.”

“And there’s a perfect example of why you shouldn’t go. You can’t call them crotchety.”

“I’m not going to say that in front of them.
Sheesh.
Give me a little credit, Abs.”

At that moment, Connor McKay came around the corner and headed up Franklin toward us. “Don’t say anything to him,” I warned my cousin.

“Not even hello?”

“Nothing.”

She pretended to lock her lips.

Connor flashed his winning smile as he stopped before us. “Morning, ladies.”

I gave him a cool nod. Jillian smiled with her lips pressed together. We separated to go around him, but he merely pivoted and began to walk with us.

“Do I sense a chill in the air?” he asked.

I didn’t reply, and Jillian shrugged.

“So,” Connor said, undeterred, “did you catch Cody on Louden’s show today?”

“No comment,” Jillian said, then glanced over at me for approval. To remind her, I made a quick motion of locking my lips.

“I see you have an official spokesperson now,” Connor said to me with a smile.

When I still didn’t respond, he said, “So how’s your former boss doing now that the police have ruled the Lip’s death a homicide? Is he nervous?”

That brought me to a stop. “If you think I’m going to talk to you after what you did, think again, weasel.”

“Wow,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“You want to know? Okay, first, during the press conference on the courthouse lawn, you asked the DA if Dave Hammond was the last person to see the Lip alive, obviously trying to stir things up. Then you engineered your television piece to make it sound like Dave lied about stopping at Whispering Willows after leaving Lipinski’s office, knowing that would make him look guilty.”

Jillian nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m a reporter,” Connor said. “I chase down tips. It wasn’t meant as a personal affront.”

“Right. As if you weren’t aware that Dave’s my friend.”

Jillian clucked her tongue at him.

“I checked with people at the home, Abby,” Connor retorted. “He wasn’t seen there on Monday evening.”

“I’ll bet you checked,” I muttered.

Connor seemed affronted. “You don’t believe me?”

Jillian said, “Is that why we’re going out to Whisp—?” She saw my eyes narrow into angry slits and immediately pressed her lips together, giving me a wide-eyed, innocent look.