Evil In Carnations (23 page)

“See Mommy!” he cried, using his hands to push himself unsteadily to his feet.

“Look what I found,” Grace sang out, breezing through the curtain with the runaway toy in hand. “Someone lost a car, didn’t he?”

As Chris watched, Grace wound up the car and sent it scurrying toward the blanket, where it scooted underneath and came to a stop near the child’s foot. Chris instantly became intrigued and got down on his hands and knees to figure out where it went.

“I brought biscuits,” Grace said quietly, placing a box of her favorite imported butter cookies on the counter. “They’re always good in an emergency.”

“He doesn’t like me,” I whispered.

“Nonsense. He’s in an unfamiliar place and has separation anxiety.”

Chris finally uncovered his toy and held it out to her.

“You’re a love, you are,” she said, and picked him up, bouncing him in her arms as naturally as though she’d done it a thousand times. Knowing Grace had never had children, I said, “How did you learn how to do that?”

“I was a nurse, don’t forget.” She sniffed Chris’s pant leg and said, “Someone needs a nappy change.” Then she glanced at me with a smile. “And someone else needs a nappy lesson.”

I would have been happier with a nap.

 

Marco returned an hour after closing time. “Sorry it took so long,” he said, when I let him in. “The ER was jammed.”

“Is Gina okay?”

“She’s fine. I took her home before I came here. The doctor thinks it was indigestion. She had a bowl of chili for dinner last night, even though she knows it bothers her.”

All that trouble for gas.

We stepped into the workroom, where Chris was almost finished unloading a cabinet full of small plastic pots and liners, having successfully turned out two other cabinets. Marco gazed around at the mess. “I’ll help you clean this up. How did he do otherwise?”

“Great,” I said, throwing as much enthusiasm in my voice as possible. I wasn’t about to tell him that I hadn’t been able to leave Chris’s side for a second since Grace left to attend her book-club meeting, and as a result, my bladder was ready to explode. “He’s really a cute kid, Marco. Very well behaved.” And he was, actually.

Hearing “Unc’s” voice, Chris backed out of the cabinet, got to his feet, and ran into his arms. He put his chubby hands on either side of Marco’s face. “See Mommy?”

“You got it. Let’s get your snowsuit on, okay?”

Between the two of us, we got the wiggling child into his snowsuit and mittens, and his diaper bag loaded. “Say thank-you to Abby,” Marco instructed, holding Chris in his arms.

Chris reached out to pat my face. “Tanku to Abby.”

“You’re welcome, Chris.” I took his little hand, already showing signs of being a boy’s hand, and kissed it. The kid was growing on me.

“I’ll be back,” Marco said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

Or so he thought.

 

My phone rang fifteen minutes later, as I was stacking pots to put them back in the cabinet. “There’s been a change of plans,” Marco said quietly. “My mother just got here, and she brought Rafe with her.”

“Rafe, as in Raphael, your youngest brother?”

“You got it.”

“I thought he was attending Miami of Ohio.”

“The idiot dropped out with only one semester to go. Mama brought him along so I can talk some sense into him.”

“Your mom didn’t happen to say how long they were staying, did she?”

“She’ll probably leave in a day or so. I think she just wants to be sure Gina is okay.”

I hoped that was all it was. “Speaking of Gina, you explained that little misunderstanding she had about my talking to those guys at the gym, right?”

“You worry too much. Everything’s cool. I’ll be down soon to clean up your workroom.”

“You don’t need to do that. I’ve already got most of it cleaned up anyway.” I turned my back on the mess behind me. If I couldn’t see it, it wasn’t there. “Stay and visit with your family.” I didn’t want to admit the truth, that a two-year-old had worn me out.

“Sorry about this evening, Sunshine. It wasn’t what I had in mind when I told you I had a few surprises up my sleeve.”

We exchanged phone kisses, then hung up. I really was beat. Chris had been a great kid, but four hours of entertaining him had taken the stuffing out of me. I couldn’t imagine having to do that all day long . . . or wanting to. Was there something wrong with me?

 

I awoke at half past four o’clock in the morning, having slept seven solid hours. Nikki had returned, I noticed. Her bedroom door was shut and her car keys were on the kitchen counter. I showered, ate breakfast, read the newspaper, watched
The Early Show
, and it was still only six a.m.

Streetlights were still on when I pulled into the public parking lot downtown. Wrapping my scarf tighter around my neck, I hustled to Bloomers in the frigid morning air, turned off the burglar alarm, flicked on lights, and walked around the shop, enjoying the feeling of owning my very own paradise. Yep, Bloomers was
my
baby—and it didn’t need diapers.

After I finished cleaning up the workroom, I turned on the computer and saw that only two orders had come in overnight. Two orders, way down from the day before, down further from the day before that. To keep from worrying, I started on one of the orders, a floral arrangement for a three-year-old boy’s birthday. Remembering how much Chris had enjoyed his toy car, I dug through a stack of baby-themed containers and found an open-topped, bright yellow ceramic car with blue wheels and red trim. Then I opened the cooler to see what types of blossoms struck my fancy.

I finally settled on red carnations, yellow daisies, orange alstroemeria, dark purple alstroemeria, light purple statice, and green Kermit—crayon colors. When I finished, I was so pleased with the final product that I pulled out my digital camera and took a photograph of it. If I ever got around to designing a Web site for Bloomers, I was going to need something to put on it.

Shortly before eight o’clock, I heard the bell jingle and went up front to greet Grace.

“Good morning, love,” she said, locking the door behind her. “You’re here early today.”

“I thought I’d get started on the orders, but there were only two.”

“I’m sure more will come in,” she said, heading into the parlor to prepare for the day. “Lottie should be released from the hospital today. I spoke with her last night and she couldn’t wait to get into her own bed. And if she hasn’t told you yet, she loved the gift basket you made.”

The phone rang, so I picked it up at the front counter. “Bloomers Flower Shop. How can I help you?”

“Abby?” I heard Nikki say, her voice rising in panic. “They’re coming to arrest me!”

“
A
re the cops there now?” I asked Nikki, who was breathing so hard I expected to hear a thunk as she fell to the floor.

“Not yet, but what am I going to do, Abby?” she wailed. “I don’t want to go to jail.”

“Nikki, calm down! How do you know the cops are coming to arrest you?”

“Dave just called to tell me the police lab report backs up their claim that I killed Jonas.”

“How?”

“Something about the blue clay on my boots most likely coming from Jonas’s property, and the blood on my sweater being Jonas’s type—”

“Blood on your sweater?”

“I told you he cut his hand. I must have gotten some on my sleeve.”

“How do they know it was Jonas’s blood? They couldn’t possibly have done DNA testing already.”

“He has AB negative blood, Abby. It’s uncommon.”

Crap.
More evidence against her.

She began to cry. “All I did was to help him clean out a wound.”

“Did Dave say specifically that the cops are coming to arrest you?”

“No, but if they found blood—”

“Nikki, listen to me. If they were going to arrest you, they’d call Dave first, and he’d arrange for you to turn yourself in. If he didn’t tell you that, then don’t panic. Now tell me what else Dave said.”

“I don’t remember the rest. I was so upset I stopped listening. . . . I think maybe he said to meet him at his office in an hour.”

“Okay, go see Dave in an hour; then call me and let me know what’s happening.”

“Abby, please find the killer.”

“Marco’s working on it, Nik.”

“You’re not working on it, too?”

“I’m doing my best, I promise, but technically Dave hired Marco for the job, so I have to be careful I don’t cause any problems for him. Plus, with Lottie out, it’s kind of hard for me—”

“Hard for
you
? How do you think it is for me? This is my
life
we’re talking about, Abby.”

She hung up.

I turned and found Grace gazing at me in concern. “More bad news?”

“The cops found more evidence incriminating Nikki.”

“Oh, dear.”

“She has no way to verify her alibi, and there’s enough circumstantial evidence that I’m afraid the cops will stop looking for other suspects, if they haven’t already.”

Grace put her hand on my shoulder in sympathy.

I sighed in frustration. “I’m not supposed to be in on the investigation without Dave’s approval, but honestly, Grace, it’s killing me to not be actively looking for the murderer. And trying to arrange these so-called chance encounters with the suspects is ridiculous, not to mention a time waster for me. I need to get out there and search, damn it! ”

“I agree with you, dear. As the saying goes, time is of the essence. Perhaps it’s not a coincidence that you have only two orders this morning. Perhaps it’s ordained.”

Or perhaps my business was dying—another fear in the back of my mind. “Dave says I’m prejudiced on Nikki’s behalf, but so what if I believe in her innocence? Why should that be a drawback?”

“Have your coffee, love; then do what you must to help Nikki. I’ll handle things here.”

“There’s my other concern. How can I leave you here alone, Grace? You can’t manage everything by yourself.”

“I won’t have to. I’ve come up with a grand idea for assistance that happily does not involve your cousin.” With a secretive glimmer in her eye, she put the cup and saucer in front of me. “Go on, then. Bottoms up. Everything looks better after that first cup.”

I drank the coffee, and it did help me focus. With new resolve, I hit speed dial number two and reached Marco at his apartment. “Has Dave called you yet?” I asked.

“I just got off the phone with him.”

“So you know about the blue clay and the blood on Nikki’s sweater.”

“Yep.”

“Okay, look, Marco, I’m going to help you find the killer, so don’t even think about trying to talk me out of it. This is too important.”

“I’m not going to talk you out of it. In fact, Dave said Nikki called him and insisted that you be in on it.”

Wow.
That made things so much easier. “Fantastic. So let’s divvy up the suspect list and get started.”

“Will you have time to get away from Bloomers?”

“Not a problem, as it turns out.”

“My notes are in my office. Meet me at the bar in half an hour. I’ll unlock the alley door for you.”

 

When I got to the bar at eight thirty, Marco was in his office talking on the phone, his chair swung to face the back wall. I walked up behind him and put my arms around him, leaning down to nuzzle his neck. “Guess who?”

“Give me a clue.” He turned to face me, still holding the phone to his ear.

It wasn’t Marco.

I backed up with a gasp as a younger, lankier version of Marco grinned at me, then said into the phone, “Call you later.” He hung up and leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head and putting his booted feet on Marco’s black metal desk. “Let’s see. Red hair, freckles, and smelling like roses . . . you have to be Abby.”

“You must be Marco’s little brother, Raphael.”

“
Younger
brother. And call me Rafe. I’m an all-American male.” He opened his jacket to show me his T-shirt emblazoned with a U.S. flag on the front. “I don’t go in for that Italian-culture stuff.”

That had to infuriate his mother. Francesca Salvare was extremely proud of her heritage.

With a grin, Rafe said, “You made quite an impression on my nephew yesterday. All morning Chris kept saying, ‘See Abby. Go Abby fower sop.’ ”

“How cute is that?”

As I tossed my coat and scarf on a chair, Marco came into the room, a cup of coffee in hand. “I see you’ve met my brother.”

Even with a nine-year difference in their ages, the resemblance was striking. Rafe’s face was a bit leaner, Marco’s had the beginnings of crow’s-feet, but both were attractive, virile men.

“Abby thought I was you,” Rafe said to Marco, winking at me, reminding me even more of his older brother.

Marco scowled at him until he removed his feet from the desktop. “Did you finish bagging the empty bottles?”

“I had to make a phone call.” He got up and started out of the office, pausing to say to Marco sotto voce, “You’re right. She
is
hot.”

That beat
plucky
any day.

Marco shut the door behind him, set his cup on his desk, and pulled me into his arms. “Just so you know, I didn’t tell him you were hot.”

“It’s okay if you did.” I slid my arms around his waist. “I don’t mind. Do I really smell like roses?”

He pressed his nose against the top of my head. “And vanilla.”

“It’s my new organic shampoo. Are you babysitting your brother this morning?”

“He’s been driving my mother crazy, so I thought I’d put him to work. Rafe somehow has it in his head that he can drop out of college, laze around the house all day, hang out with his friends at night, and no one will complain.”

“I’m shocked your mom puts up with that. She’s such a no-nonsense person.”