A Deadly Bouquet (25 page)

Lew, Marjory, and Eleanor unpacked the twenty Boston ferns from the delivery van. Each person was armed with a sketch I'd made that showed where the bouquets, ferns, hanging baskets, and displays were to go.

From my roost on the ladder I watched the goings-on in the park. Kasey and Evelyn were outside the reception tent. Both women were smiling, which was a good sign. In another section Sonya played ringmaster, directing her twelve helpers with clear, precise orders. She caught me watching and gave me a curt nod.

In the far corner of our arena, Dana and her group were unloading supplies into another smaller tent that would serve as the food-preparation station. For easy entry into the tent, the side flaps were up. I watched Dana set an ice chest on one of the tables, then rub her stomach.

I was on intimate terms with that gesture. Dana had a belly full of nerves. Maybe I should offer her one of my antacid tablets. I'd brought along a new supply. I could share, and perhaps ask a question or two.

I started down the ladder, saw the tulle in a wrinkled wad on the gazebo floor, and went back up.
First things first, old girl,
I said to myself.

For more time than I cared to think about, I folded and looped, wired and tied the tulle into a floating, gossamer gob of shimmering clouds.

“Bretta, that is absolutely fabulous,” said Evelyn from the gazebo steps. “It's just the way Nikki and I had it pictured. Thank you.”

I rubbed my neck, trying to get rid of the crick. My legs and feet ached from climbing and standing on the narrow rungs of the ladder. It helped ease my pain that I'd accomplished what I set out to do, and the work had been approved.

“How's everything going?” I asked.

“Wonderful,” said Evelyn. She glanced at her watch. “Nikki and the rest of her bridal party should be here in another few hours. I can't wait.”

“She's cutting it pretty close.”

“I know. I spent a horrible night last night. But things are going to work out just as I've planned. I'm leaving in a few minutes to check on the hotel rooms. My guests will need snacks to help them recuperate. I want them to have whatever they need.”

“Will they be coming out here?”

“Not right away. The limo will deliver them to the park later this evening.”

I started to say that they ought to get a feel for the garden, but at this point I didn't care. I just wanted my part done.

“Did you see the shrubs?” I asked.

“I'm glad you brought that up. I saw them, and they aren't shiny enough.”

“Really?” My eyes narrowed. “What would you suggest?”

“I have a case of aerosol lacquer in my car. It's on the backseat. The doors aren't locked. Have your man unload the box and give each bush a quick touch-up. I want those leaves to gleam in the candlelight.”

My jaw dropped. Before I had recovered, Sonya called, “Evelyn, could you come over here? This lamp oil has an unusual odor.”

Evelyn touched my arm. “You're doing an excellent job, Bretta. Now, see to those shrubs.” To Sonya, she said, “I've checked the oil. It's what I ordered. Nikki loves the smell of clematis blossoms. I had the oil specially blended even though the cost made me blink twice.”

I'd never noticed a scent from the blossom of a clematis vine. I started toward the group so I could have a whiff, but my path crossed Lew's. I explained about the case of lacquer in Evelyn's car.

“I'll get it,” he said, “but you might want to go to the hospital. I have my cell phone with me, and Lois called from the shop. Mr. Monroe is pitching a fit. He wants to see you immediately.”

“Bailey?” My heart skipped a beat. “Why? What's wrong?”

“Haven't a clue, Boss. I'll go get the lacquer, and I suppose you want me to do the spraying?”

“Yes. You, Marjory, and Eleanor spray the shrubs. The rental company has finished setting up the chairs for the guests. Now I can attach the satin bows. After that, I have to do the display by the entrance into the reception tent. White satin is to cover the wire stands that are to be at different heights for the bouquets.”

I thought a moment. “Did I put that tall pedestal in the SUV? Yeah. Yeah.” I nodded. “I remember taking it out of the closet.” I shrugged. “Anyway, by the time we finish these jobs, it'll be after twelve, and Lois and Gertrude will arrive with lunch and the helium for the balloons. For the rest of the afternoon, you'll be trundling back and forth from the park to the shop hauling bouquets. Our extra helpers will be inflating balloons.”

“What about Mr. Monroe?”

I raised my chin. “What about him?”

“Are you going to the hospital?”

“I just gave you a rundown on what I'm doing. Did I mention leaving the park?”

Lew pursed his lips. “Fine. I'm turning off my phone. If he should get my number, he might call me. I don't need to be harassed by a man I've never met. I have people closer at hand doing an excellent job of that.”

I grimaced. “I'm sorry. Don't you feel the pressure we're under? Am I the only one worried about details?”

A wail of displeasure rose from the food-preparation tent. Lew cocked his head in that direction. “Sounds like another nervous Nellie. Marjory, Eleanor, and I will be spritzing bushes if you need us.”

The conflict in the tent subsided quickly. I went over anyway, and met Evelyn as she was leaving. She brushed past me without a word, headed for the parking lot. I stepped into the tent and saw Dana kick an ice chest. Instantly, she dropped to her knees and lifted the lid to see if the contents of the chest had been harmed by her temper.

“What's going on?” I asked.

Dana spoke over her shoulder. “That woman and I don't jive. Nothing I do suits her.”

“It isn't an exclusive club. I'm a founding member. What's her problem now?”

Dana stood up and moved to a cart that held a huge deep-fat fryer. “She doesn't want me to start frying the shrimp until eight o'clock, when the ceremony begins. That gives me thirty to forty-five minutes to have everything ready for the guests. I told her if there's one glitch, then everything will be thrown off this tight schedule. Evelyn has assured me there
will not
be any glitches.”

I shook my head. “I have problems, too. Maybe we need a break.” I looked at the boxes, sacks, and ice chests sitting on the tables. “Have you got anything to drink?”

“Nothing cold, but I have a thermos of coffee. Want some?”

“Oh, yes, if you have enough to share.”

She nodded, got out some Styrofoam cups, and filled two. As she handed mine across to me, she said, “I'm telling you upfront, I'm not discussing Claire's death. We can chat about other things but not her murder.”

I led the way to a table near the front of the tent. We sat and sipped. It was an effort, but I didn't say a word. After a while, Dana began to talk. I hid a smile. When something is on your mind, it's hard to keep still.

“I hit my stride in high school,” said Dana. “I was forty pounds lighter. I was a cheerleader. I was dating three guys at one time. I thought I had the world by the tail. I could do anything, be anything I wanted.” She glanced at me. “I didn't care about the extinction of a stupid milkweed plant. But I liked stealing the lemon extract from Ms. Beecher, the home ec teacher. She was such a crab. Said my cooking lacked skill and finesse.”

I laid it on thick. “This Ms. Beecher should see you now.” I sniffed the air. “It smells wonderful in here. You're a true professional, Dana.”

Dana looked pleased, but demurely said, “I don't know about that.”

“I
know
you ladies need to get into gear,” said Sonya. “You don't have time to sit and gossip.”

I stood and faced Sonya. “I'm well aware of my responsibilities. If you'll excuse me, I have to attach satin bows to chairs.” I walked off but glanced over my shoulder. I expected to see Sonya giving Dana hell for talking to me, but Sonya had moved on and Dana had gone back to work.

I tied the bows to the chairs. I inspected the shrubs, which now looked artificial with their sheen of lacquer. I positioned the wire stands for the display by the entrance into the reception tent, then draped the stands with white satin cloth.

Lois and Gertrude arrived with food and the helium tank. After we'd eaten, I put the three extra helpers to work inflating the latex balloons, then I sent Lew to the shop for the first load of bouquets.

Finding a spare minute, I sat on the gazebo steps and said to Lois, “I'm exhausted. Remind me of this day when I'm asked to do another wedding.”

Lois leaned against the railing and grinned. “You wanted the kudos. Can't get them without showing your talent.”

“I feel more like a pack animal than a florist. Do you have any idea how many trips I've made to the SUV for tools and materials?”

“Nope. Have you made any trips to the hospital?”

“Don't even start on Bailey.”

“I talked to him. He doesn't understand why you won't come see him.”

“Did you tell him I'm busy with this wedding?”

“Yes, but we both agree you could find the time to make a quick visit.”

I glared. “I don't need you siding with him.” I waved a hand, dismissing the subject of Bailey Monroe. “I'm not discussing him. Let's talk about something else.”

Lois curtsied. “What's your pleasure, madam?” She raised an eyebrow. “Murder?”

My tone was dry. “That's a safe topic.” But I couldn't resist filling her in on the conversation I'd had yesterday in the park with Sonya, Dana, and Kasey. “Those girls set fire to that glade using lemon extract as an accelerant. Can you believe that?”

“I not only believe you, but I remember that fire.” Lois shook her head. “Damn, Bretta. How have they lived with this all these years? At least with Kayla's prank, the only things destroyed were fish. What a horrible tragedy.” She frowned. “But as I remember it, nothing was reported about the fire being arson.”

“What's so tragic about a field burning? And why do you remember that particular fire?”

“Because I was pregnant and emotional. The idea of a woman and her child trapped in their house was terrible. They burned to death. The family had nothing. One grave, one casket; they were buried together. A neighbor supplied the cemetery plot and the grave marker.”

I closed my mouth when I realized that I was staring at Lois like a slack-jawed idiot. This news changed everything. No wonder the tension had disappeared as I talked to those women in the park. I'd merely scratched the surface of their juvenile high jinks when I'd accused them of setting fire to that glade.

I had a hundred questions, and there was only one person I could think of who might crack if I exerted a bit of pressure. “I need to speak to Dana,” I said, staring at the food-preparation tent.

“It better be a speedy conversation,” said Lois. “Here comes Lew with the first load of bouquets.”

Lois took off for the van. I got up from the steps and went in search of Dana. I found her stacking a wedding cake layer on pillars. Once she had the cake safely in place, I didn't waste time with subtlety.

“A mother and her child died in that fire the four of you set.”

Dana whirled around. She met my gaze full on, then crumpled like a wet dishcloth. “Go away, Bretta. Please.”

“I want to hear what happened.”

“But I don't want to talk about it.”

“I don't understand how you could have kept it a secret. Wasn't there an investigation into their deaths? Were none of you suspects?”

Dana held up her hands. “I'm trembling so badly I won't be able to pipe icing onto these cakes. Why are you doing this now?”

“Clear your conscience, Dana. Maybe then you'll find peace.”

“Peace?” She tried to laugh, but it was a feeble effort. “That would be wonderful, but I doubt that telling you will bring me peace.”

I kept still.

Dana closed her eyes. When she spoke her voice was low, and I had to lean closer to hear. “When the fire spread to the prairie, it went like the speed of sound through that dry grass.” She blinked away tears. “We were shocked, but there wasn't anything we could do to put it out. We got in our car and left. It wasn't until the next morning that we learned the woman and her daughter had died.”

Dana took a shaky breath. “Everyone thought of the fire as a tragic accident. That's the way it was reported in the newspaper. The glade was used back in the sixties like Make Out Point is today. It was a hangout for the kids. There was talk of dope smoking. A dropped cigarette, but nothing more.”

My blood boiled. “Which one of you rammed Bailey's truck?”

Dana frowned. “Who's Bailey?”

I studied her puzzled expression. Her confusion seemed genuine. Impatiently, I motioned for her to continue.

“The day before Claire died she called me to talk about what happened the night of the fire. I cut her off. Hung up on her. When I saw her green hair in the park the next day, I knew we were in trouble. Then she said that horrible rhyme. We made it up before the fire. It was our credo. We were ‘on the make,' upholding our rights as citizens. When that woman and her daughter died, we swore never to utter those words again. I thought Claire was being mean, reminding us of our secret. But I never dreamed she'd die.”

“She was murdered, Dana. What happened in nineteen sixty-six might have been an accident, but Claire's death was homicide.”

Dana licked her lips. “In our own way we've tried to atone for what we did that night. We were young and scared. The mother's name was Alice. The fifteen-year-old daughter was Erica. According to reports, the house went up like cardboard. Neighbors saw the blaze but couldn't pull them to safety. If the younger daughter, who was ten, hadn't spent the night away from home, she'd have died too.”