Evil In Carnations (22 page)

“Exactly what I was thinking,” he said, writing in his notebook. Apparently, we were on more than one page together.

“So I believe I have a kiss coming?”

Marco gave me his easy grin as he put an arm around me and pulled me toward him. “Monster,” he said, then dipped his head down so our lips could meet.

“Excuse me,” Jillian said loudly, clapping her hands as she came into the workroom, making me jump an inch into the air. “Sorry to interrupt your smooch-fest, but when are you going to have more deliveries for me?”

Marco gave me a look that said,
I told you to fire her.

I twisted around to glare at her. “Did you have to clap? You took ten years off my life.”

“
Someone
is jumpy today,” she said. “Remember what your dad told us? If you’re jumpy, that means you have a guilty conscience.”

“He was a cop, Jill. He was talking about criminals.”

She gave me a puzzled look. “Seriously?”

It was way too easy to bluff Jillian. “I’ve only got four orders to finish, and I should be able to make those deliveries myself after work, so you can have the driver take you home.”

She looked so dejected that I felt bad for disappointing her, especially after how hard she’d tried to help out. I stood on tiptoe to give her a hug. “Thanks for everything, Jill. I really appreciate your hiring that limo. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“But it’s only two o’clock. I can send the driver home and work the cash register for you. My fingernails are already in ruins, so it won’t make any difference.”

I plucked her coat off the back of my chair, put it over her shoulders, and ushered her toward the curtain. “Thanks, Jillian, but business has been slow this afternoon. Don’t you have any shopping to do for your clients?”

“I’m between clients right now.”

“What about your mom’s gift? Have you given
The Bowler
to her yet?”

“Mom was at the country club when I dropped it off at the house this morning. I guess I should be there when she gets home and finds it, shouldn’t I?”

“Are you kidding? You don’t want to miss her expression when she sees it, do you? In fact, use your cell phone camera to take a picture for me, okay? I don’t want to miss it either.”

I watched Jillian go, then turned back with a grin on my face. Marco merely shook his head.

“So give me your update from this morning,” I urged, gathering my tools and supplies for the next order. “Did you talk to Robin?”

“She wasn’t there, but get this coincidence: One of her coworkers said she had to take her car in to a body shop to have some work done.”

I backed out of the cooler, a stem of lilies in my hand. “What kind of work?”

“He didn’t say, but I’ve got the name of the shop if I need to check it out.”

“I know we have to consider her a suspect in the murder because she’s Jonas’s ex-fiancée, but even so, why would Robin want to damage Jonas’s car? She broke up with
him
, not vice versa, and seemed very glad to be rid of him.”

“Do you know that for a fact?”

“I know only what Robin and Lottie told me.”

“They both have it wrong,” Jillian said, coming through the curtain with a cup of coffee. She dropped her coat on the back of my desk chair, sat on a stool, and put her cup down in front of her, as though she planned to be there a while.

“Robin gave Jonas an ultimatum,” Jillian said, “to either lose the woman he was cheating on her with or hit the road. So he hit the road—actually the dating circuit. Seems he never intended to marry Robin. He was a player.”

“I thought you wanted to get over to your mom’s house to watch her open her gift,” I said.

“She won’t be home for another hour.” Jillian smiled at me.

“How do you know this information about Robin, Jillian?” Marco asked.

“It was all over town. You know how everyone gossips.” She took a sip of coffee, looking pleased with herself.

Why didn’t that kind of gossip ever reach
my
part of town? “Excuse me,” I said, “but Robin told me that she was the one who did the breaking up.”

“Well, Robin wasn’t being honest,” Jillian retorted. “She never thought Jonas wouldn’t marry her, and was absolutely crushed when he backed out. She had rented a hall, lined up her bridesmaids, ordered a very expensive wedding gown, even bought him a wedding band at Bindstroms,
the
most expensive jeweler in town.” Jillian sighed. “All for nothing.”

“Would she have married Jonas even after he cheated on her?” I asked.

“Well, duh. After going to all that expense, wouldn’t you? She could’ve divorced Jonas later and taken half his money, you know. Chateaux en Carnations made him a multimillionaire, and what’s half of a multimillion?” She paused to calculate, then waved her hand in the air. “Well, you do the math.”

My cousin, the Harvard grad. “Wait a minute, Jillian. Are you sure about that gown and wedding band? Because Robin told me she was glad she hadn’t spent any money on the wedding.”

“Again,” Jillian said, feigning boredom, “Robin—not honest. She dropped big bucks on her gown and Jonas’s wedding band—had it personalized and everything—and you know she’d get very little back if she tried to return either one. Makes you wonder what else she lied about, doesn’t it?”

“Were there any rumors of who Jonas was seeing?” Marco asked.

“Are you serious?” Jillian’s eyes sparkled as she shared her juicy gossip. “Too many women to list. Jonas had a new date every night—well, until he landed this aging rich chick from Chicago who couldn’t do enough for him. Brioni suits, a Rolex watch—even a sports car. Then someone saw her and Jonas together in Chicago and reported back to Robin, and that’s when Robin told him to lose the girlfriend or lose her. Unfortunately for Robin, it was ‘Bye-bye, birdie.’

“And get this—talk about justice—turns out the rich chick used her father’s money to finance Jonas’s gifts, but Daddy found out and cut her off, and when Jonas discovered no more bucks were forthcoming, he said, ‘Cheerio, chickadee.’ ”

Marco and I glanced at each other.
That had to be Carmen!

“Do you know what kind of sports car this woman bought Jonas?” Marco asked.

“Of course,” Jillian said. “A Ferrari.”

“Do you know anything else about the woman?” Marco asked.

“No, but I can find out more.”

“That’s okay, Jill,” I said, ready to shoo her out of the room. “We’ll take it from here.”

“How would you go about that, Jillian?” Marco asked.

“I know people who know people,” my cousin answered, trying to be mysterious.

“Do you think you can find out the woman’s name?” Marco asked. “First and last? Maybe an address or phone number, too?”

Jillian glided off her stool and picked up her coat. “Stand back and watch me.”

 

I waited until I heard the bell over the door jingle; then I put my hands on my hips and gazed at Marco in disbelief. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just unleashed? We’ll never be rid of Jillian now.”

Marco glanced around the workroom. “I don’t see her here. Do you?”

“So you gave her that assignment to get her out of here?”

“Well, we’ve pretty much figured out it was Carmen, although Jillian doesn’t know that.”

“Aren’t you clever.”

He pulled me toward him, so I was standing between his knees, my arms draped around his neck. “I’ve been known to have a surprise or two up my sleeve.”

“Really?” I tugged on his T-shirt. “Have you got any more up your sleeve?”

“I don’t keep them
all
there,” he said, lifting one eyebrow, which was all it took to get my blood running hot.

I nuzzled his ear, nibbling the earlobe, which I knew drove him wild. “Maybe you can drop by later this evening to show me where you keep the rest,” I whispered.

“I think we’re on the same page again,” he said, and kissed me hard.

Marco’s phone rang a few minutes later, but it took a while for the sound to register. He paused to check the caller ID. “It’s Gina,” he said, kissing me as he opened the phone to answer it. “Hey, sis. What’s up?”

To give him some privacy, I moved away and began to work on my next arrangement.

“Okay, take it easy, Gina,” Marco said. He listened a few moments longer, then said, “Are you really sure you want to do that? No, I’m just saying . . . Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Is Gina all right?” I asked, as he put away his phone.

“She’s had cramps since early this morning, and she’s afraid something’s wrong with the baby. The doctor wants her to get over to the ER, but Gina’s husband left on a business trip this morning, and little Christopher is home from preschool, so she doesn’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry. I hope she’s all right. Are you going to take her to the ER?”

“Yep.” He got up and slid on his jacket.

I cut a hunk of wet foam with my floral knife. “What about Christopher?”

Marco zipped his jacket. “I suppose he’ll have to hang out in the waiting room with me. I sure hate to expose him to all those germs, though . . . unless you’d watch him for a while?”

Me? Watch a two-year-old? “I’d like to help out, Marco, but I have orders to finish.”

Marco came up to put his arms around me. “Chris is a good little kid, Abby. He’ll play quietly with his toys right here. And it’ll only be until my mom arrives.”

The wet foam slipped out of my hands. “Your mother is coming?”

Surprise!

B
abysitting wasn’t something I’d ever enjoyed. In fact, for several years I’d lived in dread of the next-door neighbors calling to ask if I was available that Saturday night. And between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, it seemed I was always available.

Maybe it had been the cockroaches in their kitchen, which I’d discovered after turning out the light one evening. I’d never let my feet touch the floor in their house again. Or maybe it had been their five kids, all under the age of nine, all hyperactive, and always hungry. Which necessitated a trip to the kitchen. On my skateboard. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t in any hurry to repeat the experience.

But this was for Marco. How could I refuse?

“Sure. I’ll watch Christopher.”

“Thanks.” He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll bring him by on our way to the hospital, around . . .” He checked his watch. “Looks like my battery died. Probably half an hour. Okay?”

“Great!”
Just great.

“Who is Marco bringing by?” Grace asked after Marco left.

I sighed morosely. “His two-year-old nephew.”

“How delightful,” Grace said. “Is the baby toilet trained?”

“You mean there’s a chance he wouldn’t be?”

“He’s two, dear. Usually they’re just beginning to wean off their nappies then.”

I dropped my head in my hands with a groan. “I have to change nappies?”

“I’m here, love. I can help then, can’t I?”

“Marco’s mother is on her way from Ohio. Anything you can do in that department?”

“As I remember, you and she got along famously.”

“That was before Gina thought I was trying to pick up men.” At Grace’s perplexed expression, I explained what had happened at Duke Kessler’s gym and Jillian’s subsequent conversation with Gina.

“Oh, dear. I can understand your concern. Well, you did survive the baby shower in good form, and this time there’s no social event to attend, so perhaps you won’t even see Mrs. Salvare.”

From Grace’s lips to God’s ear.

 

I put together three arrangements before Marco returned with Christopher. He strode in carrying the child bundled in a blue snowsuit, with a large quilted diaper bag over his shoulder, looking every inch a suburban dad, which was as endearing as it was frightening.

“Here we are, Chris. Abby’s flower shop.”

The curly-haired, blue-eyed boy gazed around the room in amazement. “Abby fower sop.”

“Can you say, ‘Hi, Abby’?” Marco asked, giving me a wink as he stopped in front of me.

Chris opened and closed his chubby little hand. “H’ Abby.” He leaned forward to touch my hair, as though he’d never seen red locks before. I smelled peanut butter on his fingers and suspected I’d find sticky residue in my hair later.

“You be a good boy for Abby.” Marco kissed his smooth baby cheek. The way he gazed at the child, I wondered if he were longing for one of his own—or if it was merely the power of Gina’s suggestion working on my mind.

“Where should we put him?” I asked.

“There’s a blanket in his bag. Maybe you can spread it in the corner.”

I pulled out a cushy blue blanket with yellow and red sailboats on it and spread it in the back corner beside the cabinets. Then I began removing toys from the bag, setting them in the middle of the blanket. Marco put Chris down and squatted beside him, running his fingers through the child’s hair. “Okay, Christopher Robin. Unc will be back in just a little while.”

Chris immediately held up his arms to be picked up. “See Mommy.”

“Mommy will be back soon, too,” Marco assured him. He motioned me over, so I got onto my knees and picked up a plastic windup car, turned the key, and watched it run across the room and crash into the cooler. Chris gurgled with laughter.

Marco brought the car back. I wound it and let it go; it hit the table leg, and Chris shrieked with joy.

That wasn’t so bad.

Marco brought the toy back again, leaning down to give me a kiss on the cheek and say in my ear, “You’re doing great. I’ll keep you posted on Gina.” And then he was gone. Chris watched him depart, glanced at me in growing alarm, glanced back at the doorway, then screwed up his face, ready to cry.

“Watch, Chris!” I cried, and wound up the car again and let it run across the room. This time it ran under the curtain and disappeared.