The Blossom Sisters (15 page)

“Good morning, Mr. Hollister. How nice to see you so early in the morning.”

Gus knew that she was thinking, how nice of you to ruin my day so early. “I know we didn't have an appointment, and that we've been playing telephone tag. I'm sorry about that. So, can we discuss whatever it is you want to talk to me about? I also wanted to give you my new address and the phone number at my new house in case you can't reach me on my cell phone.”

“Follow me, Mr. Hollister. I can give you exactly thirty minutes, then I have to leave for court on another matter.”

Gus looked around the fireplug's office. It surprised him, and he wasn't sure why. He liked it, though. He took a seat across from the polished desk and waited for her to take her seat of power. That's how he thought of it, a seat of power. If he compared his office to this one, his would fall into the pigsty category. Not that it was dirty, just messy.

Jill folded her hands and leaned forward. She adjusted her granny glasses more firmly and stared across at him with unblinking intensity. “Do you have anything you want to ask me before we discuss your wife's petition for divorce, Mr. Hollister?”

“No. My wife is divorcing me. I am not contesting it. If this were a perfect world, I'd tell you to fight till hell freezes over not to give her anything, but I know this is not a perfect world, so I'm probably going to have to make some kind of settlement. You already know the deal on the house. I was a fool, I admit that. So I guess what I'm saying here is do the best you can on my behalf.”

Jill's cell phone took that moment to chime to life. Gus watched as she fished it out of the pocket of her jacket. She identified herself, then listened. All Gus could hear were the words, “I'll ask him. He's here right now. Yes, that is strange. Thanks for the heads-up.

“Now, where were we, Mr. Hollister?”

“I was telling you to do the best you can do on my behalf. I'm not naive enough to think I'm going to skate on this. Is there anything you need me to do on my own behalf?”

“I wanted to discuss what you're willing to part with. I'll be calling Isaac Diamond, your wife's attorney, for a face-to-face. I've engaged the services of a private detective agency. We have ongoing surveillance on your wife. Right now, that's all I'm comfortable telling you. And I want to caution you about talking to your wife. I don't want you to be surprised if she calls you. If you're like most people, I'm sure you have caller ID on your new landline at home and, of course, it will show up on your cell phone. If she calls, let it go to voice mail and call me right away.”

“Okay, I don't have a problem with that. She's the last person I want to talk to. What is it you hope to find out with surveillance?”

“After I find out, I'll ask you what is normal and not normal where your wife is concerned. Then I'll make a call on it. We do have time before I'm going to schedule a meeting with Mr. Diamond. Again, I'll let you know when that is going to happen. You and your wife might or might not be at that meeting.”

“I understand. I hope you got my message where I apologized to you.”

Yessireee, this lady would make a great poker player.

“I did. I accept your apology.” The expression on the lawyer's face was that of someone who had bitten into a lemon. Jill reached into a drawer and withdrew a yellow legal pad. “Now, give me that new address and phone number. You moved out of Barney's house?! Living in a mansion with live-in maid service, cooked meals, someone to do your laundry, six cars at your disposal, everything free. What's not to like? Why did you move?”

Gus wanted to reach across the desk and grab Jill Jackson's lovely throat.
Lovely throat.
The words left him confused for a moment. He might have dropped it right there, but Jill started to tap her fingers on the desk as she waited for his reply. “Because I'm not a person who needs a fancy house with maid service and six cars. I can cook and do laundry and take care of myself. My grandmother taught me early on how to be self-sufficient. The only reason I moved into Barney's house was because of Wilson, and because I had to get my head on straight. I'm renting a house with an option to buy if it's a good fit for Wilson and me.”

“Is that the same grandmother you turned your back on in favor of Elaine Hollister?”

“You damned well know it is. When are you going to stop jamming that down my throat, Miss Fireplug?”
Oh, shit, did I just say that?
Obviously, from the look on the lawyer's face, he did just say that, and he'd struck a nerve.

“What did you just call me?”

Gus knew his face was flaming red as he tried to weasel his way out of his comment. “Sorry, I was thinking of something else. I didn't mean . . . I wouldn't . . . I meant to say Miss
Jackson
.”

“Now, why don't I believe you? You know what, Mr. Hollister, I think we've had enough for one day. I'll call you when I need to talk to you again.” Gus noticed that her face was as pink as his felt, and her lovely throat was also pink.

“I do need to ask you one question, however. What do you and your wife do with all the vinegar in your refrigerator? Four gallons to be exact. And what do you use all those herbs for?”

Gus thought those were the stupidest questions he'd ever heard in his life. “Vinegar! What herbs? When were you in my house? I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Need to know, Mr. Hollister. Okay, so the vinegar wasn't there when you left a few days ago, is that what you're saying?”

“That's what I'm saying, Miss Jackson. I guess Elaine uses it for something.”

“And the attic?”

Gus threw his hands in the air. “What about the attic?” There's nothing much up there but my skis and an old toboggan. In the spring, I pack up my winter clothes and put them up there and bring down the spring and summer clothes. I suppose Elaine put some of her stuff up there. She pitched a fit a few months back and wanted a ladder put in so she could go up and down. It's electric. I personally never used it. Why?”

“I'm not sure, Mr. Hollister. I really have to go now. I'll call you when I need you or to apprise you of new developments.”

Gus knew when he was being dismissed. He got up just as Wilson did. He almost tripped over his dog, who was hell bent on going around the desk to check out the fireplug. Gus was stunned to see how the lawyer's face softened as she bent over to scratch Wilson behind the ears and rub the sweet spot between his eyes. Wilson was a goner the moment she did that. He licked her hand and whimpered softly as Jill continued to stroke the big dog's head.

“One last thing, Mr. Hollister. I don't want to hear that you're feeling remorseful and need comfort by sitting in the driveway at your old house. Yes, I know about that. Your wife took out a restraining order on you. She could have had you arrested. Do not do that again. Do you hear me?”

“How the hell—? Never mind. Yes, I hear you, and it won't happen again. I knew that Elaine wasn't home; I had passed her on the road going the other way, so I felt safe doing it.”

“Like I said, don't do it again.”

Gus hung his head. Caught again like a schoolboy. “Let's go, Wilson. Thanks for seeing me without an appointment. I appreciate it.” He didn't mean to stare, but he couldn't help but gaze at that lovely throat. He'd hurt her feelings, and she was having a hard time with what he'd called her. He wanted to apologize again but knew he'd just make matters worse.

Outside, he mentally kicked himself as he opened the door of Barney's Jeep. If they were giving out awards for stupidity today, he'd take one hands down.

Gus drove to his office and spent ten minutes hearing that everything was running smoothly. He trooped back outside and headed for Blossom Farm, all the while thinking about the young lawyer. He realized he knew virtually nothing about her other than that she was a capable attorney. What was her personal life like? Obviously, she liked animals in general and dogs in particular. He recalled the fish tank and how restful it was watching the fish swimming in lazy circles. The clean lines of the office and the lack of clutter and the comfortable furniture should have given him some clues. He wondered if Barney had any insights on her personal life. And if he did, would he share what he knew? Doubtful, knowing Barney.

On a whim, Gus made a left turn, then a right turn, and stopped at The Flower Shop. The perfect name for a florist. He parked in the tiny lot and told Wilson to wait and guard the car. He ran into the store and ordered a dozen white roses to be sent to Jill Jackson. “Put lots of green stuff in the arrangement,” he added. He scribbled his and Wilson's names on the card. Corny for sure, but he did it anyway. He paid cash and asked for the delivery to be made that day.

Gus felt a little better when he climbed back in the car. “I sent roses, Wilson, and I did that because I have a big mouth and don't stop to think before I talk. I hurt her feelings. Granny taught me better than that. She liked you, though. That's a good thing, Wilson. You might have to run interference for me from here on in where she's concerned.

“Now, we have to get to work, and I have a feeling it's going to be a really long day.”

Wilson pawed Gus's arm, his signal that things were okay, before he settled down for the ride to Blossom Farm.

Chapter 16

A
FTER COURT, JILL JACKSON ENTERED THE BEEZER BUILDING, A
scowl on her face. She swept past the security guard with a flash of her ID pass without even looking at him. Normally, she had a smile for the guard, oftentimes inquiring about his grandchildren and his dog, Molly. Not today, though. Today, the young lawyer sprinted forward like she had a life-or-death destination in mind.

When the elevator stopped at her floor, she sailed past the receptionist and walked down the hall to her suite of offices. Her secretary, an early fiftyish woman, held up her hand and said, “Whoa! Whoa there, Jill. Slow down. What? Did someone rain on your parade? Step on your toes? I know you didn't lose in court, so what's with the attitude I'm seeing here?” Louise Atkins had been with Jill since her first day at Beezer. Familiarity was an okay thing where the two women were concerned. Not only were they boss and employee, they were personal friends. Had anyone else been within hearing distance, Louise would never have allowed personalities to show, because she was too professional to permit that to happen. She waited to see what Jill would say.

“Court was a waste of time; the judge granted a continuance. I knew that would happen going in. Like I said, a waste of time. No one rained on my parade, and no one stepped on my toes. Were there any calls?”

“Mr. Beezer and Lynus Litton called. Mr. Beezer wants you to call him back. Nothing urgent, he said. Mr. Litton said he needs you to return his call ASAP. So, what happened? Why do you look like a thundercloud? Don't tell me there is nothing wrong, Jill. I know you too well. Let me help; that's why I'm here.”

Jill took a moment to stare up at her friend and secretary and only saw concern for her. She struggled with herself as she tried to decide if she wanted to respond. “If I ask you a question and tell you all I want is a yes-or-no response, can you do that?”

“Absolutely. What is it, Jill? I've never seen you look like this. Plus, you're agitated, and you're always cool as a cucumber, even when you're losing. Mr. Beezer told me once he'd hate to play poker with you.” Louise had said this before to Jill, and it always garnered a smile of sorts. Not this time.

“Okay.” Jill took a deep breath. “Do I look like a fireplug to you?”

“Yes!” Louise said smartly without missing a beat.

“I do? Are you just trying to rile me up?”

“Why would I do that? You asked me a question, and I answered it. Don't you tell me time and again that a lawyer should never ask a question he or she doesn't already know the answer to?”

“I do say that. It's true, and it's the first thing you learn in law school.”

“Then why did you ask me if you knew what my answer would be?” Louise drew herself up to her full height, adjusted the trim jacket she was wearing, then went back to her desk. She sat down with a hard thump, but her gaze stayed on Jill, who seemed to be having a hard time with her answer. “I assume someone hurt your feelings at some point this morning, and you're having a hard time dealing with it.”

Jill crossed her arms against her chest. She nodded, her face miserable.

“Jill, you don't have to look like a fireplug. All you have to do is change your mode of dress. You wear so many layers, it's hard to tell there's even a body under them.”

“What's wrong with what I'm wearing? Tell me one thing that's wrong.”

“Are you sure you want to ask me that? Do you even look in the mirror before you leave the house in the morning?”

“I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to hear your answer, and of course I look in the mirror before I leave the house. Well?”

“No one wears brindle or drindle skirts or whatever they're called anymore. There must be ten yards of material in that skirt. Minis are in, and so is spandex. A blouse, a vest, and a jacket are way too much apparel for a small person like yourself. Put all that on top of ten yards of material, and you look like a walking tent. And let's not forget those combat boots you wear. And your color choice is drab. All you wear is beige, brown, or gray. It makes you looked washed-out. You don't even wear makeup. You need color.”

“Well, thank you for your opinion. I think. My shoes are not combat boots, Louise. They are Ferragamo ankle boots.”

“Yeah, well try telling that to the fashionistas. The characters on that old TV show
Little House on the Prairie
used to wear the kind of shoes you wear.”

Jill lifted up the hem of her long skirt and looked at her shoes. She liked them; they were comfortable, and she'd paid a lot of money for them. She liked comfortable shoes because she liked to walk back and forth to the courthouse. Taking care of her feet was important.

“So what are you going to do about your mode of dress?”

Jill whirled around. “What makes you think I'm going to do anything about my mode of dress?” Jill looked so shocked at her secretary's question, Louise had to hide her smile.

“That's a trick question, right?” Louise sniffed. “There's also the pickup truck you drive back and forth to work. Ladies, like some lawyers I know, do not drive pickup trucks. At least not the ones I know.”

“Yep. I have a Jaguar. I drive it to church on Sunday. How about some fresh coffee?”

“Coming right up. Be sure to return Barney's call. Lynus Litton said he really needed to talk to you, so you might want to call him first. Is that the same six-year-old car that has four thousand miles on it?”

“
GO!
” Jill roared.

Settled in her office, Jill removed her jacket and hung it on the coat tree. She looked at the sleeves of her striped cotton shirt. What was wrong with the beige-and-white-striped shirt? She'd washed it, starched it, then ironed it. She was meticulous when she ironed her shirts. The camel-colored leather vest with the three toggle buttons was a favorite of hers. It was worn, soft, and comfortable. Maybe she didn't need to wear a vest. She thought about rolling up the sleeves of her blouse, and removing the vest, but if she did that, Louise would be right. Well, maybe she could open the buttons on the vest and roll the sleeves of the blouse to her elbow. She didn't do either one.

Fireplug. She would never imply to anyone that they looked like a fireplug. Never. Whether or not Jill wanted to admit it, Gus Hollister had hurt her feelings. She thought about her client then and how embarrassed he had been after he'd called her Miss Fireplug. She hated thinking about him and his case. If there were a way to pass him off to someone else, she'd do it in a heartbeat, but Barney would never allow that to happen. Maybe if Gus wasn't so handsome, she wouldn't feel like this. She'd been hard on him, and she wasn't sure why. Maybe because of his beautiful wife. A female thing. She argued with herself then. Gus Hollister was human. His case wasn't unique. Men did stupid things when they were married and the marriage ended. But, in most cases, at least the ones she'd handled, there hadn't been a grandmother and elderly aunts involved.

Gus had further confused her when he said he had moved out of Barney's luxurious house. Most people would love being waited on hand and foot and living in the lap of luxury, and all for free. She had to give him points for that. Maybe there was something there, but she wasn't seeing it. Barney said Gus Hollister was the salt of the earth. He said Gus was kind, generous, caring, a good friend, and that he loved him more than if he were a flesh-and-blood brother. So, yes, there was something there. Maybe she had preconceived ideas about Gus, and he hadn't measured up to those preconceived ideas, and she didn't want to admit that she was wrong about the kind of person he was. Everyone made mistakes. People deserved second chances when they screwed up, providing they admitted the mistakes and corrected them.

Jill was so deep in thought, she didn't see Louise come in until she set a mug of coffee on the desk. “Thanks,” Jill said.

Jill waited until Louise closed the door behind her before she picked up the phone and dialed Lynus Litton's personal number. The greetings over, Jill said, “What do you have for me?”

“I just wanted to give you a heads-up. When I hang up, I'm going to upload a bunch of pictures one of my investigators sent me. I think they're going to surprise you. It appears that Elaine Hollister is into voodoo, witchcraft, casting spells, and performing rituals. I have to admit this is something I am not familiar with. I did an Internet search and found it all very interesting. I have to say, I got a little spooked. And there's one other thing. Mickey Yee, the investigator who got the pictures, had a bit of an accident while he was in the attic where Hollister does her . . . whatever it is she does. Trying to position some empty boxes and mailers for a photo, he knocked over a vase of flowers on the altar. That means Elaine Hollister is going to know someone was in her attic. Mickey wore gloves, but he was there. He reset the alarm, but if Mrs. Hollister is as smart and crafty as I think she is, she might call the alarm company and they'll be able to tell her the times the alarm was turned off and on, and she'll know for certain. But, there is also a possibility she might think a rat or a mouse, possibly even a squirrel, got into the attic and knocked over the vase. I just don't know, Jill. But you need to know everything I know. If she goes the route of the alarm company, someone might have seen Gus Hollister sitting in the driveway last night. She'll accuse him in a nanosecond. And he'll have no comeback.”

Jill felt like pulling her hair out. “Okay, got it. Anything else?”

“I'll be sending you the report on Gus Hollister. He's clean, Jill. He's who he says he is. He did what hundreds of guys do, got mixed up with the wrong woman, compounded that mistake, and ended up marrying the mistake. Other than that, there's nothing there where he's concerned to throw up any red flags. We're still working on the grandmother and the two aunts.”

“Okay, Lynus. Thanks. I'll be in touch.” She was just about ready to turn on her computer when Louise opened the door and whistled sharply. “Ta da! Look at this, Jill,” she said, thrusting a vase of white roses forward so Jill could get a better look. “Someone actually sent you flowers! And they smell wonderful. Bet these cost a small fortune.” She carefully set the vase on the corner of Jill's desk and stepped back. “Well! Aren't you going to look at the card? It's not every day a woman gets flowers sent to her workplace. C'mon, Jill, open the card. When was the last time you got flowers, here or at home?”

“Never! No one ever sends me flowers. I got a corsage for my senior prom, but that's it. Okay, okay, I'm opening it.” Jill's eyes popped wide. “They're from Gus Hollister. He signed it with his name and his dog's name.”

Louise thought her boss looked shocked. “Now, that's sweet. You need to have more of an open mind where your client is concerned, Jill. They're just beautiful. Enjoy them,” Louise said, turning to leave.

Jill waited until the door was closed before she leaned over to smell the huge arrangement of roses. Was Hollister sucking up or was he genuinely sorry for his crass remark, and this was his apology? She sniffed the flowers again, and propped the little card up next to the vase. The flowers were almost in her line of vision, and she'd be able to see them all day long as she worked. Her first flowers. How amazing was that? She felt almost giddy at the thought. A man, a client actually, had taken the time to send her flowers. Later, when she wasn't so busy, she was going to give some serious thought to the white roses. She was glad they weren't red roses. She hated red roses.

Jill clicked on her computer, brought up Lynus's e-mail, and looked at the attached pictures. She studied them for close to an hour before she printed them out. Then she reached for a magnifying glass and studied the printouts. Lynus was right. It looked like Elaine Hollister was into voodoo and witchcraft. She cringed when she saw the toppled vase on the altar. But the mailers and boxes were clearly visible. Initial B Enterprises. She frowned as she tried to recall if she'd ever heard of the company. Nothing came to mind. “Hmmmnn.” Jill pressed a button on the console. “Can you come in here, Louise?”

“Yeah, boss. What's up?” Louise asked from the doorway.

“I want you to go to the main library and get me some books on voodoo and witchcraft. Try to get older books. I want everything you can get on rituals and spells. I could order them from Amazon, but that will take about a week. I'm going to search the Net, but I still want to have some books on hand.”

Louise raised her eyebrows.

“Take a look at these pictures,” Jill said.

Louise picked up the pictures and looked at them one at a time. “Oooh, this is not good. Okay, I'm on my way. Do you want me to bring back some lunch?”

“Sure, a ham and cheese on rye, and don't forget the pickles.”

Jill was already clicking away even before Louise was out of the room.

 

While Jill Jackson was surfing the Internet, Gus Hollister was sitting down to a very late breakfast at Blossom Farm. His grandmother sat across from him, watching him eat. She smiled. Augustus had always had such a healthy appetite. She was complimenting him now on how hard he'd worked on creating a schedule for the seniors.

Gus carried his dishes to the sink, topped off his coffee cup, then sat down across from his grandmother. “Listen, Granny, you need to stop with the trips to the post office; it takes too much time and costs too much. Let's open an account with UPS, and they'll give us the shipping supplies, they pick up, and you save labor. You guys have been chasing back and forth to three different post offices. That's a lot of hours that are being wasted. Now, having said that, do you all understand that you need to tell me which . . . I don't know how you define it . . . but which
thing
right now is earning you the most money? I'm not talking about the steady bread-and-butter money that keeps you going, like your newsletters.”