Seed No Evil (27 page)

He looked at Marco, as though appealing to him man-to-man. “You have to believe me. It's my fault Bev is dead. She was going to kill Seedy. I found her memo.”

“Kyle!” Stacy said.

Marco gestured for me to get up and move off to the right, but I was too close to the boy. I feared drawing his attention. I gave my head a little shake and Marco responded by inching farther to the left, so Kyle had to turn his head to look at him. But Kyle's attention was still on his mother, who was a few feet in front of him now.

“I saw it on your desk, Mom. Seedy was going to be the first to be put down after the policy change. Bev didn't even care that I loved Seedy. Don't you understand why I had to stop her? Don't you?”

“Don't listen to him,” Stacy said to Marco. “He's making this up to protect me.”

“How did it happen, son?” Marco asked, slowly lowering his hands.

“Shut up, Kyle,” his mom ground out. “Don't say another word.”

“No, Mom, I want him to understand.” Kyle used the side of his arm to wipe his tear-streaked face. “I've been coming here to see Seedy and Seedling after the shelter closes and the volunteers leave, but last Monday Bev caught me. She wasn't supposed to be here. I watched her leave before I went inside, but she came back and found me and the dogs in the exercise pen.”

“How did she know you were in the pen?” Marco asked.

“I left the door to the ward open,” he said unhappily.

“Did you use the spare key from home to get inside the shelter?” Marco asked.

He shook his head. “I had my own key.”

“He's lying,” Stacy said in a desperate voice.

“I got it copied at the hardware store, Mom,” he argued.

“He wouldn't do that,” Stacy cried. “He gets sick when he comes to the shelter.”

Marco ignored her. “What happened after your aunt found you with the dogs?”

“Bev threatened to tell Mom, so I told her I knew what she was planning and that I was going to tell everyone that changing the policy was
her
idea. And you know what she said? That hideous beasts like Seedy deserved to be put down! That's what she said, Mom. I swear to God she did. I begged her not to kill Seedy, and she said I was pathetic. That I've been nothing but a pathetic weakling right from birth. She said”—he choked back a sob—“she said that's why she gave me up for adoption.”

“Kyle, no,” Stacy said, in tears. “That's a lie.”

“I know the truth, Mom. I know she had an affair with Dad and got pregnant with me. I know she forced you to adopt me and I'm the reason why all of you moved here. I know you and Dad divorced because of me. She told me everything.”

“Please stop, baby!” Stacy begged, her hands clasped together. “You don't—”

“I'm not a baby!” Kyle screamed, making Stacy cry harder. “Shut up, Mom. Just shut up!”

“This is insane!” Stacy cried, and turned away, as though she couldn't stand to watch.

“Does your dad know what happened, Kyle?” Marco asked.

“No one knows,” he said, casting a guilty glance at his mom. It made me suspect that Stacy had figured it out at some point, which was why she wouldn't let us talk to him.

“How did you get out of the pen and your aunt didn't, Kyle?” Marco asked.

“I pushed her down,” Kyle said, starting to wheeze, “and then I ran out—and shut the door behind me and locked it. She was—so angry, she started—beating on the door and saying she was going to—enjoy killing Seedy.”

“Where were Seedy and her pup at that time?” I asked.

“I'd already shoved them through the doggy door so she couldn't hurt them. She tried to kick Seedling, Mom! I—hated her so much! Do you understand—how evil she was? Do you see why—I had to punish her—by letting—the shepherds out?”

Kyle was sobbing now and wheezing heavily. As he labored to breathe, the gun wavered in his hand. “She said—I almost ruined her life—and you never wanted me either—”

“That's not true!” Stacy cried. “Honey, I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. Please believe me!”

Kyle doubled over, gasping for air, and Marco moved fast, grabbing the wrist that held the gun with one hand and clamping his other hand around the barrel, snapping it out of Kyle's grasp before the boy could react.

At that, Stacy ran forward and wrapped her arms around Kyle, who seemed ready to buckle. Marco jerked his chair back and Stacy got the boy into it, where he continued to gasp for breath. “Where's your inhaler?” she cried.

“Back—pack,” he managed, pointing toward the hallway.

Stacy ran out of the office and returned moments later with the inhaler. She put it into his hands and he shot it twice into his mouth, drawing in breaths until his airways began to relax.

“You have to stop questioning him,” Stacy said to us, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed. “He can't take it.”

“We'll let him calm down awhile,” Marco said, “but we're going to need to call the detectives so he can give a statement.”

“Don't you get it yet?” she said in a furious whisper. “He's lying. He made up this whole ridiculous story to protect me.
I
killed my sister. I pushed her into that yard and locked the door. And then I raised those dog doors and let the shepherds attack her. Kyle was nowhere near here. Do you see what just happened to him? If he'd been inside the shelter, he wouldn't have been able to function.”

“Stop it!” Kyle cried. “Just stop it!” Turning to Marco, he said, “Call the police. I'll tell them how it happened.”

“So will I,” Stacy said. “I'll give them the exact details of how it all went down. I won't let them arrest Kyle for what I did.” She wrapped her arms around her son's shoulders and rocked him as they cried together.

Marco pulled out his phone and pressed 911.

•   •   •

An hour later, Marco and I drove back downtown so I could pick up my 'Vette. I sat in the car in silence, still stunned by the turn of events. Stacy had called a lawyer, who had instructed her and Kyle to say nothing more. The only other information Kyle had given us was that he'd always been careful to not be seen when he'd gone to play with the dogs and that his visits had stopped with his aunt's death, which was when he got Tara involved. The police had come and taken both Stacy and Kyle to the police station, where they had planned to meet their attorney along with the detectives on the case.

“What will happen if they continue to give contradictory stories?” I asked Marco.

“It'll be up to the detectives to find out which one is telling the truth. I can tell you now that no prosecutor is going to want to try a young teen for murder, so they'll be looking extra hard at Stacy's story.”

“And if they can't prove for sure which one did it?”

“You remember from working with Dave Hammond, don't you? The prosecutor will have to decide whether he has enough circumstantial evidence against either one of them to bring an indictment.”

“And if he doesn't, they'll be home free.”

“I've seen it happen,” Marco said. “Kyle will still be in trouble for wielding a weapon, but more than likely he'll be tried as a juvenile for that.”

I shook my head. “Wow. I'm still in shock. That kid was serious about protecting his mom. I think he would have shot you if you'd tried to call the police earlier.”

“Which one do you think caused Bev's death?” Marco asked.

“Kyle, for sure.”

“Because?”

“Because of how protective he is and how much he cares about Seedy, although I'm sure the horrible things his aunt said to him contributed to it, too. How about you?”

“I agree with you. Remember that Stacy originally told us Kyle had been having a lot of asthma attacks lately, and sneaking down to see the dogs could explain that. I can tell you right now, Sunshine, with the only witness who could verify that Kyle had been at the shelter dead, the prosecutor will have a devil of a time proving he was there.”

“In a way, I'm glad, Marco. He's a kid yet, and kids have poor judgment. I don't think he meant for his aunt to die, but he'll still have to live with the results of his actions for the rest of his life, and that's severe punishment.”

“On the other hand,” Marco said, “if it was Stacy and no indictments come out of this, she'll never have to pay the price.”

“Either way, she and Kyle will always know the truth, and that will haunt both of them.”

Marco pulled up behind my Corvette in the public parking lot and put his Prius in park. “Well, at least your mom can rest easy now, and we can get on with our wedding plans.”

“But I won't see you tonight, right?”

“It doesn't make me happy to say this, Sunshine, but, no, not tonight.”

I leaned over and gave him a kiss. “See you tomorrow, Salvare.”

“See
you
tomorrow, Mrs. Salvare-to-be.”

I got into my car smiling. Abby Knight Salvare. What a wonderful ring it had.

My cell phone rang. Still smiling, I pulled my phone out of my purse and checked the screen.

Grace Bingham?

My smile dissolved. Grace would never call after work unless something was wrong.

M
y heart was in my throat as I answered Grace's call. “What happened?”

“Abby, love, do not panic. Where are you?”

“I'm sitting in my car in the parking lot, getting ready to drive home. Why?”

“Had you been at Down the Hatch, I would have suggested that you stop by the shop and take a look at the spindle, but it can wait till morning.”

“Grace, you scared me to death. The least you can do is tell me why.”

“Because the spindle is full, dear. Eighteen orders came in after you left. The flyers are working.”

“Really?”

“Really.” There was a big smile in her voice. “I wanted to share the joy with you. I know how worried you've been.”

“That's great news, Grace! I'll have to come in early tomorrow to get started—it's my last day at the shop for more than a week. Or maybe I'll go back tonight and work on the orders since Marco is busy all evening anyway—or I can do both.”

“Abby, love, take a breath. We'll manage it all tomorrow.”

I was already out of the car and walking toward Franklin Street. “Thanks for calling, Grace. This is the second-best news of the day.”

“What's the first?”

“We solved the case! Well, most of it anyway. I'll tell you and Lottie all about it in the morning. Right now, I need to call Mom and tell her she can stop worrying.”

After assuring Grace I wouldn't stay at the shop until all hours of the night, I phoned my parents and got my mom at first ring. “Mom! You're off the hook. Marco and I solved the case.”

“Oh, my goodness! Oh, honey, I'm so relieved, I have to sit down. You solved the case. How wonderful. I can't wait to tell your father. Who did it?”

“I'm ninety-nine percent sure it was Kyle, but his mom confessed to it, too, so the police will have to sort it out. Anyway, you don't need to worry about being called in for another interview. You can go back to creating your works of art.”

“I can't tell you how much better I feel, honey—a huge weight has lifted off my shoulders—but I certainly do feel sorry for the Shaws.”

“Me too, Mom. Whichever one of them is responsible acted in anger, never expecting that Bev would fall and break her neck. But what a terrible thing to live with.”

I stopped outside of my shop and dug for my keys. “I'm at Bloomers now. I have to work on some orders that came in.”

“Thanks for calling, Abigail. I already feel the creative juices flowing again. Ideas are practically spilling out of my head. I can't wait to get back to my craft room and make something new for your shop.”

Yay?

“Oh, before you go, honey, I have some good news for
you
. Tara told me she found a nice young couple who want to adopt Seedy. She said she knows these people well, so she'll be able to take the puppy to visit his mother. Isn't that terrific? I know how worried you've been. See you tomorrow at the rehearsal, honey.”

I hung up the phone with a sigh, a not-altogether-happy sigh either. Seedy was safe, and I was free to go on my honeymoon without worrying about her life hanging in the balance. Why didn't that feel terrific?

•   •   •

Friday

I climbed out of bed bright and early and got to the shop by seven a.m., only to find that Lottie had beat me to it. She was humming along to a country-and-western song playing on the radio in the workroom while she de-thorned rose stems for an arrangement.

“Isn't it a glorious day?” she sang out as I dropped my purse on my desk. “Glor-i-ous! I saw that you were here last night working, but look at that spindle, sweetie. A new passel of orders came in overnight.”

Grace sailed in with a tray in her hands. “Coffee is ready!”

I took a cup off the tray. “You came in early, too?”

“We've got a lot to do today,” she said. “Don't forget we have to prepare your wedding flowers, too.”

Eep.
There
was
a lot to do. But I was so happy about all the orders that I dug right in, filling in Lottie and Grace about solving the case as we worked. We were so busy that we continued straight through the morning. Unbelievably, I even found myself having to cancel lunch with Marco.

“That's okay, babe,” he said over the phone. “I knew those flyers would do the trick. Anyway, I was going to have to take a rain check myself. I've got to wrap up my case today, so I'll see you at the chapel at six.”

Marco had checkmated my rain check. Feeling slightly miffed, I sat for a moment with the phone in my hand, staring at a photo of us in Key West that I'd pinned to the bulletin board. I sure hoped he made more time for me after we were married.

By midafternoon we'd finished all but the last fourteen orders. I hadn't worked that hard in a long time and, although I was tired, I felt good.

“Abby,” Lottie said, “take a look at this address.”

I went around the table and read the slip of paper she'd placed beside the arrangement she'd just started. On the
Delivery Address
line, it said
6004 North Concord Avenue.
“What's wrong with it?”

“Look at the last one I did.”

I checked the slip attached to the arrangement waiting to go into the cooler:
6004 North Concord Avenue.

“Same address, right?” Lottie asked. “How about the next one?”

I took the top slip off the spindle and read it. “Six thousand four North Concord Avenue.” I checked the slip of paper I'd set beside the stems I'd just pulled and it, too, had the same address.

Mystified now, I took off the rest of the orders and fanned them out on the table. They all had the same address. I said to Lottie in bewilderment, “What's going on?”

“Could it be a joke?” Lottie asked.

I sat down at the computer and did a search for the address. It came up:
Blaine Manufacturing.
That didn't sound like a joke to me. Still, for a woman who claimed to hate flowers, there sure were a lot of them going to Dayton's company's address.

Determined to find out who was behind it, we loaded all fifteen arrangements in our rental van and I drove them over to the Blaine complex myself.

“I have a large floral delivery for this address,” I told the woman at the reception desk, “but I'm not sure who ordered them.”

“I'll take care of that, Abby,” she said with a smile. “Here's your check, and I'll have someone meet you outside.”

I glanced at the signature on the check. There it was, in precise handwriting: Dayton Blaine. “Forgive me for saying so,” I said to the receptionist, “but Miss Blaine hates flowers. Why would she order so many?”

Instead of replying, the receptionist pulled a small brown paper–wrapped package from beneath the counter and handed it to me. “This is for you, too.”

Clearly she wasn't going to give me any answers. “Can I speak to Miss Blaine?”

“She's in a meeting,” the receptionist said, reaching for the ringing phone. “Have a nice day.”

I looked at the check in my hand. I certainly would.

Once all the flowers were out of my van, I shut the door and started the motor, then glanced over at the package on the passenger seat and turned the motor off again. I had to know what was inside. Maybe that's where I'd find some answers.

I tore off the brown paper and found a hardback book inside. It was entitled
How to Be an Effective Businesswoman
by Dayton Blaine.

I opened the cover to see if she'd written anything and found one of my flyers with a note attached. In Dayton's precise handwriting, it said:

Dear rookie:

The no-kill policy issue will be tabled indefinitely.

It's not always about the money.

Good luck.

D.B.

I didn't stop smiling for hours.

•   •   •

We finished up the wedding flowers at closing time, after which I ran home and changed into a pair of cream-colored pants and a turquoise blouse and then rode to the church with Nikki. There we found the minister and wedding party gathered in the chapel—everyone, that was, except for Marco, Rafe, and their brother, Rico. It wasn't until we were all standing in our places at the front of the chapel that Marco strode in alone, looking handsome in a light blue shirt and dark jeans.

“Sorry,” he said to me as he took his place at the altar. “We were left without two bartenders this evening, so Rafe and Rico had to fill in.”

“How will they know what to do tomorrow?” I asked, feeling miffed again. I so wanted everything to be perfect.

“I will coach my sons. It won't be a problem,” Francesca Salvare said. “Please don't worry, Bella.”

“It'll be fine,” Nikki whispered, standing to my left. Jillian didn't seem to be concerned either, nor my parents. Marco gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

Okay, then.

After we rehearsed, we went downstairs to the church hall for a feast of Francesca's homemade lasagna, garlic bread, Italian green beans, and tiramisu. I sat beside Marco at the long banquet table, listening to Francesca entertaining my parents with her funny stories about raising a large family and Nikki and Jillian discussing the latest fall fashions, and I felt bad that Marco's brothers were missing the dinner. I'd also hoped to meet Rico before the wedding.

“What are you thinking about?” Marco asked, his hand draped casually across my shoulder.

“How great it is to see everyone enjoying themselves,” I replied, “and how much I love being here with you. How about you?”

“What am I thinking?” he mused, looking up at the ceiling. “I'm thinking that my life is about to change forever—and I'm a little nervous about that.”

“Me too!”

He turned his head to gaze into my eyes. “But mostly I'm thinking about how much I love the gorgeous redhead seated to my left.”

I glanced over my left shoulder. “Where is she? I want to meet her.”

He smiled a full-on smile. “You
are
the prettiest woman in the room, you know.”

I wasn't—Jillian had me beat by a mile—but as long as Marco thought so, I didn't care. He made me feel pretty.

Marco put the tip of his finger between my eyebrows. “Your worry line is gone.”

It was! What a relief it wouldn't be messing up my wedding photos. I leaned in to look down the row of people. My mom's was gone, too.

We all pitched in to clean up, and then Marco and I went back to my apartment to load up my boxes. After unloading them at Marco's place, he walked me to my car, where he didn't linger long. “It won't always be this way, sweetheart. Trust me.”

“It better not be.”

He hugged me close, his cheek against my head. “Tomorrow's our big day, Abby. Are you sure you want to go through with it?”

“Are you?”

“I asked you first.” He leaned back and smiled into my eyes. “Of course I do, Sunshine. I've never been more certain of anything.”

“Me too, Marco.” I laid my head against his shoulder and breathed in his essence, basking in the warmth of his embrace. I wanted to stay there forever.

After one last kiss, he said softly, “Get a good night's sleep and I'll see you tomorrow.”

•   •   •

Saturday

What can any bride say about her wedding day besides
Aaaaaack!

Hovering mother, photo-snapping father, annoying cousin, giggling niece, overconcerned best friend, breakfast you have no appetite for . . . make that lunch, as well, makeup application by annoying cousin and overconcerned best friend, and hair appointment.
Yes, I like the updo, I swear.
This was followed by the wedding gown squeeze—
French fries, I hate you
—assistants wielding flowers, Mom supplying her pearl necklace and drop earrings as the “something borrowed,” a quote from Grace about love, a last photo with Nikki as my roommate, tears and tissues and makeup repairs, final gown adjustments, and—finally!—a nervous ride to the church in hovering mother's car.

Except we were headed in the wrong direction.

“Mom?” Nikki and I were in the backseat of her car, a mélange of white lace and pale yellow satin. “You're going south.”

“We have to go back to our house to get the van,” Mom said. “Your dad wants to ride with us.”

They had just decided that now?
Deep breath, Abby. That'a girl.

Nikki patted my arm. “Don't worry. They can't start without you.”

Good thing.

I held out my left hand and took a long look at my diamond engagement ring. Soon it would be joined by a wedding band, just a simple band, but a circle of gold that held so much promise.

I looked through the window and sighed wistfully. The sun was shining, the sky was blue with a few puffs of white clouds, the trees were still full and green, the temperature was seventy-five degrees . . . the perfect setting for an outdoor wedding, if only that little gazebo hadn't blown down.