The Flower Girl E-Book

Karen Cogan

• Herausgeber: Karen Cogan Books
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 510

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

The "flower girl" was labeled a slow student in high school. Though she can only handle simple tasks, Camilla is happy with her job in a garden store. Her boss is kind and Camilla loves flowers. When Camilla discovers men's bodies buried in a back plot, she is puzzled. She doesn't tell her boss, Mrs. Martin, because she doesn't want to upset her.
Though Camilla lives alone in the family home, her two cousins often drop by to visit. They are furious when they find out that a customer made fun of Camilla and that Mrs.. Martin's husband tried to seduce her. When each man becomes a murder victim, Camilla is suspected in the crimes. However, there is no evidence to connect her to either of them.
When other murders follow, the young detective assigned to the cases is suspicious of Camilla until she gets to know her better and realizes someone more clever is behind the slayings. As the crimes escalate, Marie and her team strive to find clues that lead to the killer. When they do, the identity is a surprise to everyone in the investigation.

Leseprobe

Copyright 2018 All Rights Reserved

No part of this novel may be copied or reprinted without written permission from the author.

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

The Flower Girl | By Karen Cogan

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Betrayal by Karen Cogan | CHAPTER ONE

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The Flower Girl

By Karen Cogan

Author’s Note:

This novel was inspired by my study of abnormal psychology. I discovered the criminal mind can be a fascinating place if viewed from a distance. Consequently, this story involves twin sisters that are brilliant in their respective ways. One is an internet mastermind. The other is a murderer. They care only about their timid cousin, Camilla. For her, they will do anything and feel no remorse.

Chapter One

Camilla stared at a yet another lump of freshly turned earth. Flowers would have looked nice there. They were innocent and cheerful, the sort of things that should be planted at the garden center. Camilla loved flowers and she loved Mrs. Martin, who had hired her through a program that helped mentally handicapped people find jobs.

Yet, there were no flower bulbs under this rich Alabama loam. Something disquieting lay beneath this plot that lay behind the concrete loading zone. Camilla had noticed freshly spaded soil several weeks ago. Upon excavating, she found a hand beneath the soil. Feeling sure it didn’t belong there, she kept digging. When she uncovered the shoulders and head, she understood the stranger must be deceased. She decided not to tell Mrs. Martin, what she had discovered. She didn’t want to upset her. That seemed a poor way to thank someone, who had had been kind enough to hire her. She covered the dead man carefully and left him in peace, as one should do for the departed.

She didn’t dig beneath the new protrusion of dirt. She didn’t want to see another face. She didn’t like dead faces. They were too still, too cold.

Fortunately, Camilla was the only one who ever went to the back lot to fetch trees and large shrubs. Consequently, she was the only one who saw the disturbed earth.

She thought if she were smarter, she might be able to figure out why two bodies lay buried.

Not having this gift, she doubted she would ever know. So, she shook her head and set about watering.

Mrs. Martin called to her. “Camilla, could you bring the small Magnolias? I’ve got a spot where I want to set them out.”

“Sure." Forgetting the burial plot, she wheeled the shiny metal cart to the trees and set them onto the flatbed. When she got all six trees to the front of the store, she lifted them out and displayed them under Mrs. Martin direction. The short, thin woman had the nervous manner of a hummingbird. Her shirtwaist dresses and short curly hair made her a throwback to the fifties.

When the job was finished, Camilla dusted her hands on her dirty jeans and gazed at her employer. “Thanks for hiring me, Mrs. Martin.”

“You’re welcome, Camilla. You don’t have to keep thanking me. You’re a hard worker. “We’re glad to have you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Martin.”

Mrs. Martin sighed. “I just got in an order of bulbs. Open the boxes and set the packages up for display.”

Camilla knelt on the floor and opened the boxes. Inside, were packages of tulips, lacy daffodils, and gladiolas. Camilla loved flowers. Every now and then, Mrs. Martin would give her damaged flowers to take home. Camilla nursed them back to health and planted them in her garden.

She had a pretty garden in the yard of the house she’d shared with Mama. She wished Mama was alive to see it. Mama had loved flowers, too. Fortunately, there were no bodies buried in the flowerbeds at home. Camilla surely would have noticed them.

She pushed the disquieting images from her mind. There was nothing she could do for the dead men and shouldn’t be staring into space when she had work to do. She began sorting the bulbs onto the metal rack, setting apart a package of Pink Cloud daffodils and re-blooming iris to buy for herself.

She had a small sum left over from her last paycheck. Even though Mrs. Martin gave her a discount, she always spent a hefty portion of it on flowers. Not that it mattered. She lived alone and had few expenses.

She was happy with what little cash she put away in her secret hiding place in a box under the bed. Sometimes when she found unexpected cash around the house, she figured Mama came from the grave to leave it. Mama had always been good to her.

A customer glanced through the bulbs. When Camilla looked up, he smiled at her. He had a tanned face like the cowboys on television. She stood to assist him, to find she was a head shorter. She dusted off her hands and smiled at him.

“Can I help you find something?”

“I’m sure you can.”

He watched her in a way that made her feel self-conscious. It seemed like he was admiring her. It couldn’t be true. She had buck teeth, bad skin, and short stringy hair. And she was at least fifteen pounds overweight. More likely, he felt sorry for her.

He gestured to the outdoor, canopied greenhouse. “I just had my first house built and I want to do some landscaping. I thought a few rose bushes and plants for the flower beds would be a good start. What do you think would look nice?”

Camilla felt uncertain. She wanted to be careful advising him, as this was a big decision.

Gardens were important.

“I could get Mrs. Martin. She knows more than I do.”

The man’s deep blue eyes captivated her. “I didn’t ask for Mrs. Martin. I want you to help me.”

Camilla scratched her head, trying to decide where to start. “You’ll want roses. Those are out on the patio.”

She led the way through the side door out of the store. On a stone patio, the pots of rose bushes were arranged in rows. Feeding and tending the roses was one of Camilla’s favorite jobs.

“I can show you which ones I have in my yard,” Camilla said. “I’d like that. I bet you have great taste in landscaping.”

“I love caring for gardens.”

Camilla was in her element now and feeling enthusiastic. “I have a mix of white, red and pink roses. I planted mine in the back of my yard along the fence. I have two yellow bushes in my front yard, one on either side of the door.”

He reached into his pocket and withdrew photos. “This is the front of my house. And this is the backyard.”

Camilla caught her lip between her teeth. It was a very plain yard. The only pretty spot was where a pecan tree was planted. Other than that, the ground was bare. She didn’t like the house much, either. It was too modern for her taste.

“I would make a flower bed with a brick border around the tree in the front yard. Ferns would be pretty along the front of the house. And you could do a climbing rose on a trellis in between the windows.”

Camilla pointed a dirt-soiled finger at the spot. “I like that. What about the backyard?”

Camilla studied the photo. A concrete patio stood in front of a sliding glass door. The rest of the yard was dirt. “I would do a flower garden against the back of the house and all along the fence. A garden around the tree would look nice, too.”

“What kind of flowers?”

“Mixed, I think.”

“Pick them out for me, would you? Price is no problem.”

“Really?” This would be fun. Camilla had never gotten to design a yard from scratch.

They pushed a wheeled cart down the rows of flowers. Camilla popped in pots of daffodils, ferns, verbena, phlox, petunias, pansies, inpatients and daisies. In the right combination, they’d look fantastic.

After half a morning of choosing, they parked the cart by the check-out and collected the roses. When Camilla finished his order, she wheeled the rose bushes to the check-out counter.

The man said, “Could you sketch how you think I should plant these?” Camilla scratched her nose. She did have a mental picture in mind.

“Okay, I’ll try.” She got a pen and paper and began to draw in the flowers, labeling them as she went while Mrs. Martin rang up the purchase.

Camilla showed him the sketch. “I think this will look good.”

He studied it. “Perfect. How about coming to my house to see it when I’m finished? If I’ve made any mistakes, you can tell me.”

Was he flirting? Alarm made her pulse jump. She wasn’t the kind of girl men noticed. “I don’t go out much.”

“You’re kidding, a pretty girl like you?”

Now she knew he must be joking. Perhaps, he was teasing her, for she was not pretty. Her cheeks grew warm. She wished he would pay for the flowers and go away.

“I’ll be at the Renaissance Club on Congress Avenue if you do feel like getting out tonight.

About eight o’clock.”

“Like I said, I don’t go out.”

He shook his head. “Pity. My name’s Charles, in case you change your mind.”

She nodded, avoiding his eyes, wondering how he could be so cruel as to keep pressing her.

He wouldn’t want to be seen with her if she really did show up.”

“I better get back to work.”She returned to the task of sorting the bulbs while Charles rolled his cart of flowers to the parking lot.

Mrs. Martin paused beside her. “That young man was certainly interested in you.” She looked up. “Why?”

“I don’t know, Camilla. I guess he thought you were nice. Maybe you should think about meeting him.”

“I’m not smart like him. He wouldn’t like me.”

“Smart isn’t everything, dear. Some people are drawn to your sweet disposition.”

Camilla flushed again. This time it was with pleasure. Mrs. Martin thought she was sweet. It was a much better compliment than Charles’ teasing.

She was in a good mood for the rest of the day.

When she got home, she parked her old Dodge Dart in the garage and began taking out her flowers. She had already decided where to plant them. It was nearly all she’d had on her mind all afternoon.

It was early summer in Mobile, Alabama. Glancing up, she saw gray towering thunderheads that promised the rain that was a common occurrence of life here. A warm, bay breeze stirred, ruffling the leaves on the peonies that grew on each side of the gate. Her flowers thrived in the humid climate. Once she planted them, rains kept them watered.

She carried the rest of the plants to the backyard, and closed the gate. She loved the controlled overgrowth of the backyard, a place where the chain link fence was hidden behind a thick hedge of ligustrum that afforded complete privacy. Not that she ever did anything requiring privacy. Still, it was nice to sit out on a plastic lawn chair on a warm summer evening and enjoy the garden, without anyone to disturb her.

The only visitors she ever had were her twin cousins, Evie and Tamara She’d been glad when they moved to town and attended her grade in high school. No one at school liked Camilla and Evie and Tamara had become her only friends. They’d spent hours up in Camilla’s room talking and laughing. They didn’t seem to mind that she was slow. In fact, they didn’t seem to notice.

Though they didn’t live with her, they left clothes and make-up at her house. She didn’t mind. Those two liked to get dressed-up, as well they should, for they were as beautiful as she was homely.

Occasionally, they all went out for fast food or a movie. The only place Camilla went without them was to work or a quick trip to the grocery store. She didn’t like to be in public alone.

She often wondered what it would be like to go to concerts and bars like they did, to be admired and to meet men. Tamara, the most social, said it wasn’t that great. She thought men were jerks. Still, Camilla was curious.

She remembered the man at the garden store. Tamara would have known how to handle him. She would have easily put him in his place, leaving him eating out of her hand. Camilla would tell Tamara about him when she saw her.

Now, her new plants needed attention. She focused her energy on the spots already picked out for them. The fern would go into the garden along the fence, and the zinnias would look bright and cheerful in the bed beneath the trees. The alyssum would go along the bricks to make a round border and the periwinkle would be pretty in the wooden planter that sat along the side of the flat concrete patio.

Camilla worked intently. By the time the first fat drops of rain fell, she had everything in the ground.

Mama would be proud of the way she kept up the yard. Mama had always kept the gardens neat. They’d spent many glorious hours working together, mowing the lush lawn of St. Augustine grass, weeding the flower beds and digging more gardens.

She missed Mama dreadfully. It had been a year since she had died. Camilla remembered that day clearly. Just after Camilla had started working at the nursery, her father had come home. He’d been popping in and out of their lives for years. Mama said he was sick in the head.

But she still loved him. He’d told Mama he had a job and money. He’d said she wouldn’t have to work at the bakery any more. Then, he’d taken her out on a drive and they’d never come back.

The police told Camilla he had killed Mama in the forest. They’d found him wandering in the trees, tearing his clothes and talking to himself. Afterwards, they’d locked him up in a safe place so he’d never come back to hurt her the way he had hurt Mama. But that didn’t bring Mama back.

Nonetheless, Camilla was reasonably happy. She had her cousins and her job and a place of her own. Maybe someday, she’d get a cat. Camilla liked cats. They weren’t noisy like dogs. They were graceful and neat. They didn’t chase cars or try to bite the paper boy.

A cat would be just the thing someday. Her cousins would approve of a cat. A cat would never bark at them when they came over for a visit.

She became so engrossed by the idea of a cat that she spent the rest of the afternoon on the patio chair, trying to think of a name for the unknown pet. Finally, it was between Midnight, if it was a black cat, and Goldie, if it was a yellow cat.

She sat in her trance until her cousins arrived carrying what was left of a pepperoni pizza. “Here: Tamara said. “You can have this for supper.”

They stayed to chat for a while. Camilla told the story about the stranger and how he’d made fun of her. The girls didn’t stay long after that. This was fine with Camilla since she was sleepy.

Tamera and Evie had come on the bus. Now they borrowed Camilla’s car for an outing. Tamara drove while Evie brushed out her thick copper curls. They were on the way to the Renaissance Club on Congress Avenue. They hadn’t told Camilla they were going. She wouldn’t want them to go. Camilla was peaceable and she was sweet. She would never stick up for herself. Nonetheless, she was their cousin and they weren’t about to let anyone abuse her without hearing from them.

“Camilla wouldn’t have to work at that boring job if she didn’t want to,” Evie said. "We could support her."

Evie made good money as a hacker. She’d hacked into international business accounts as well as several American companies. She never signed in with her laptop. She used a remote computer to complete the transactions. And she never took too much. Just a little here and there to add to their Swiss account. They would retire in luxury someday and they’d take Camilla along.

“She’s happy now, though,” Tamara said.

“I know. I can’t understand what she likes about working at that dirty place, but if it makes her happy, I’m glad,” Evie said.

“Me, too. The lady’s nice to her.”

“What about the husband?” Evie asked.

Tamara frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think she knows what to make of him.” She shook her head. “As long as she’s happy...”

“Yeah, as long as she’s happy...”

They drove to the Renaissance Club and parked. Though it was a Monday night, there was a decent crowd. Tamara whispered to Evie, “That has to be Charles over at the bar. He looks just like Camilla described him.

They took a table in the corner where they could keep an eye on him. Evie ordered their drinks.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

“We wait until he leaves and follow him to his car. Then we tell him off.”

“Good plan. He can’t treat our Camilla like that.”

They sipped their drinks and watched Charles. It amused them to see him fail twice to pick up a girl. No doubt he told them all about his new house and the gorgeous job he was doing on landscaping.

When he left, they followed him outside. Evie hung back, while Tamara, the more aggressive, followed close behind him. He didn’t notice her until he reached his car to unlock the door.

“You came after all,” he said.

Tamara smiled. She knew that, in the dark, he saw only the vague family resemblance. “Nope. My name’s Tamara. And this is the last time you’ll make fun of my cousin.”

She pulled a small caliber handgun from her purse.

Charles pressed himself against the car, holding up his hands in a plea. “I didn’t make fun...” Before he could finish, Tamara pulled the trigger, placing a bullet neatly into his heart.

He slid down the car to leave a dark puddle on the already darkened asphalt. Evie walked up beside Tamara. “You promised,” she hissed.

“Did not. Besides, he deserved it.”

“You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Nobody will ever know. Help me get his wallet. We’ll keep the cash and toss the identification.”

Evie glanced about the deserted lot. “Okay, but let’s hurry.”

They extracted his wallet and took it with them.

Tamara grinned as they drove away from the club. She enjoyed killing. Since the urge had come over her six months ago, she tried to limit herself to one killing a month. Yet, like any other addiction, it was hard not to give in more often. She blamed it on the fact that there were no support groups to help her. Overeaters had Overeaters Anonymous and alcoholics had Alcoholics Anonymous. Nowhere did she know of a Killers Anonymous. Who would help her stop without putting her in jail?

She would simply have to do her best to control it. Although she’d already had her quota for the last two months, this one couldn’t be helped. Someone had to avenge Camilla’s feelings. Who better than her cousin?

Evie pulled off the road into a darkened parking lot.

“What are you doing?” Tamara asked.

“There’s a dumpster at the back of this school. We can get rid of the wallet.”

“Okay. I’ve already gone through it. He had almost a hundred in cash.”

“Hey, that’s pretty good. Did you wipe off your prints?” Evie asked.

“Yep. I’m holding it by the edge of my shirt.”

“Hurry up and get rid of it. I don’t like having evidence in the car.”

Tamara jumped out and scurried to the dumpster. She scattered the contents of the wallet before securing it beneath some discarded cardboard. If they were lucky, it would never be found. Even if it was, there was nothing to link them to the crime.

They wouldn’t tell Camilla. There was no reason for her to know this, or that Tamara buried bodies in the garden center where Camilla worked. Until she ran out of room, it was the perfect hiding spot. No one ever went back there except for Camilla.

The sisters had a night on the town, spending the money at an upscale bar and dancing until early morning. And though they met no one sufficiently interesting to invite to a motel, they had a pleasant time.

...

Detective Marie Alvarez sat at the breakfast table, feeling drowsy. Her husband, Rick, patted her hand as he handed her a cup of coffee.

“You look beat. Tough night?”

“Yep.”

Marie hadn’t gotten home until nearly three o’clock that morning.

“There’s some weird stuff going down. We have a body with no ID in the parking lot of the Renaissance Club and we have a guy reporting his roommate missing.”.”

“Sure it’s not the same guy?”

Marie shook her head. “It’s not. We had the roommate take a look.”

“So, no leads at all?”

“Not so far.”

Rick leaned over the narrow breakfast table and kissed her forehead. “They’re lucky to have you. You’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“I better. I’m the new girl on the block. Gotta prove myself.”

Marie had made detective two months ago, just in time for the missing person. Now, they had a new case, one with an unidentified body. At least, she knew what she’d be spending the day doing.

Rick unfolded the Press-Register. “The story’s in the paper,” he said.

“What does it say?”

She stood and leaned over his shoulder.

“It’s about the dead guy at the Renaissance Club. It says nobody saw what happened.”

“We think the motive was robbery since his wallet was missing.”

“Those clubs can be dangerous. I guess I should quit going there when you’re not home,” Rick said.

Marie wrinkled her nose. “You were watching sci-fi movies. I saw them when I turned out the light.”

Rick grinned at her. “You can’t fool a good detective. Still, how do you know I wasn’t clubbing before I watched the movies?”

“You hate clubs. I can’t even drag you out dancing.”

“Good point.”

Marie stretched. “I’m going to shower and then head back to work. Maybe there’s been a breakthrough in the case.”

Rick scanned his petite wife and decided she wouldn’t eat unless he got her a bowl of cereal.

It sometimes seemed like she ran on sheer energy. So, in little ways, he tried to take care of her.

He still found it hard to believe he’d stolen her heart. He’d been a short, stocky catcher on the Jr. College baseball team when they met. She had green eyes and curly, golden hair that tended to frizz. He could hardly stop watching her from the first moment they met in their freshman English class.

It took him three months to get up the courage to ask her for a date. When she agreed, he’d been in denial for the rest of the day. Had she really said, “Yes”?

They’d hit it off, sharing interests in sci-fi and crime, guns and sports. He wasn’t surprised to find out she’d been a gymnast as a kid and she’d played softball on the high school team.

Maybe they’d have a team of their own someday he’d thought, even when the idea was premature. Little Alvarez children to play outfield and bases. He’d come from a family of seven children. Only one was a girl.

When Marie got onto the police force after two years of college, Rick went to a state university for his accounting degree. They’d worked it out and kept their romance alive.

They married after he graduated. That had been over a year now and Rick had never been happier. Marie was his life.

He glanced up to see her smiling at him.

She said, “Are you always going to spoil me like this? You know I would have left with a cup of coffee, if you hadn’t made me this bowl of cereal.”

“You’ll probably skip lunch.”

She took a bite. “Possibly. I’ll try to be home in time to cook you a fabulous dinner to tell you how much I love you.”

“You do that every day, just by being you.”

“You’re a good guy, Rick Alvarez. I’m lucky to have caught you.”

Rick gave her a kiss before grabbing his briefcase to head for work, thinking all the while that it was he who had caught her.

Marie ate the cereal, hardly tasting it as she mused about her day. She loved the challenge of detective work. Yet being new, she had pressure to prove herself. She’d set a goal of finding the identity of the Renaissance Club man today and she’d do all she could to reach it. She only hoped she’d manage it by five o’clock. It had been days since she’d cooked a real meal for Rick. Yet, he never complained.

Still, he must miss his mama’s cooking. She’d stayed home to cook and clean for a family of nine. She made the best enchiladas Marie had ever tasted. Maybe Rick would be happy with stewed chicken and dumplings, something he’d never tasted until he married Marie.

After breakfast, she showered, taking longer than she should have to let the warm fingers of water massage her spine. Five hours of sleep had left her groggy and she longed to crawl back under the covers. That wasn’t smart thinking for a professional.

“Pull yourself together, Alvarez. You’re going to lick this.”

She toweled off and dressed in her uniform. She put in contacts and added a touch of eye shadow. She frowned, studying her hair. In the humidity of the Alabama coast, she could never hope to have a sleek style. She combed in gel and pulled it back in a ponytail. At least it was out of her way.

She drove to work with her mind completely on the murder case. No fingerprints at the scene. No evidence on the body. Could it have been pre-meditated? If so, the first step was to identify the victim and find out if he had any enemies.

She pulled into the station lot and parked in one of the three detective spots. She was gratified to see that she was the first to arrive.

She let herself in the back door and grabbed a cup of coffee from the table in front of the secretary’s desk. The other officers insisted Miss Kent had been there a hundred years. Since she appeared to be in her early sixties, Marie doubted it had been quite that long.

“Any messages?” she asked.

“Dental records are ready on the new case.”

“Good. I’ll start checking with dentists and hope I get a fast match.”

She unlocked her office. She wasn’t used to seeing her name on the glass panel. Detective Alvarez. She would never get tired of looking at it.

She set the coffee on the worn, wooden desk and sank into her chair. Firing up her computer, she retrieved the dental records. The next step was to get into the Automated Dental Identification Center and search files of males. The only other thing she could do was to pray he’d been to a dentist.

She thought about the two recent cases while she waited for feedback. The man who was missing might be explained if the man moved without telling anyone where he was going. Perhaps he was living happily in another city. Yet her gut feeling said it was murder and that they were tied somehow, though she had no proof, as yet.

In less than ten minutes, she had a dental match for the Renaissance Club victim. His name was Charles Taylor. She called his dentist, who promised to fax over Taylor’s file.

In a before-lunch meeting with the chief of police, she and another detective went over the evidence. They decided Marie would go to the club in the afternoon and show Taylor’s picture around. An earlier interview revealed the bartender didn’t know the man. But maybe one of the other employees or customers would know something about him. It was worth a try.

The other case proved frustrating. She’d hoped to have it solved quickly, neatly wrapped, and delivered to the boss. Instead, it was going to take time and hard thinking. She’d checked motels and his last known residence. His mother lived in Birmingham, yet hadn’t seen him in over six months. His roommate said he’d mentioned a few friends. Unfortunately, none of them had any information that helped the investigation. So far, it was all a dead end. If they found his car, it would be a start. So far, even that hadn’t turned up. When Marie had made detective, she’d said she liked a challenge. She’d definitely gotten her wish.

On impulse, she decided to check a few street contacts on the way to the club. The best information sometimes came from the shadow people, as she called them. They were the homeless and bored, criminals just out of jail, and druggies that hung out on the streets.

No one knew anything, had seen anything, or recognized the men. Since they liked her, they would have told if they’d had any information. They offered sips from their bottles to make up for her disappointment. She declined with thanks.

Back in the car, she headed for the Renaissance Club. It was nearly four o’clock, the time when it opened. She’d hang around for a half-hour and talk to a few folks before heading back to work.

She showed her ID and entered. On this cloudy afternoon, it was dim inside. Only a handful of early customers lined the barstools and the staff was lean. The place reminded her of a flower blooming in slow motion. Its draw wasn’t evident until it was completely open. Though it was dull now, she knew this place had a reputation of hopping when it got closer to midnight.

She showed Taylor’s photo around the bar. No one knew the man or recalled him making any enemies the night before. A waitress giggled. “I was off last night, but I would have remembered if I’d seen him. That’s quite a hairdo. Who’s he supposed to be? Elvis?”

“He’s dead,” Marie replied in a matter of fact tone.”

The girl’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

After no luck at the club, Marie decided to ask Mark, another detective on the case, to come back that evening when the bar was busier. Perhaps someone who came later might know him.

She arrived back in the office, ready to pack up and go home. Even though she hadn’t any new clues, she knew a hundred percent more about Taylor than she’d known earlier in the day. At least now, she had a name.

Chapter Two

Now that she was had the identity and address for Charles Taylor, Marie held the first piece of the puzzle. She glanced at her watch. Five-thirty. Rick would be home soon and she’d promised him an evening together. If she stopped now, she’d have time to make a nice supper.

She debated, torn between curiosity about Charles Taylor, and her devotion to Rick. She shut down her computer. Charles would not be going anywhere. She could look up his background tomorrow. Tonight belonged to Rick.

His car was already in the garage when she arrived. She found him in the kitchen, rummaging in the refrigerator. He looked up as she entered from the garage.

“Hey, I didn’t think I’d see you for awhile.”

“I know. I meant to get away sooner, but I got caught up in something.”

“Did you finish it?”

She set her satchel on a chair and walked over to Rick.“No. I stopped because I wanted to spend the evening with a handsome and exciting man.”

He grinned and set the beer he’d been fishing for back inside the refrigerator. “What would you like for supper? Is chicken all right?” she asked.

“Supper can wait. All I want is you.”

Her hot-blooded Latin took her by the hand and led her down the hall.

As she switched gears, Marie wished she was more like Rick, prone to impulse instead of practicality. Yet, perhaps, these very differences were what had drawn them together.

When they sat together later, with all ideas of a home cooked dinner forgotten, Marie tried to ignore the fact that they’d just ordered yet another pizza. Mama Alvarez would have put a full course meal on the table. Yet Rick didn’t seem to mind.

“I got a new account today,” He told her as he enjoyed a cold beer. “Did you? What company?”

“An appliance repair shop. Just a little mom and pop operation, but they’re doing pretty well.”

“That’s great. With your expertise, their books will balance to the penny.”

“I think that’s the idea. The wife has been keeping the books and they’ve got a bit tangled. I’ll have to go back a few months to catch them up.”

“They couldn’t have come to a more competent guy.”

He kissed her. “Detective Alvarez, you’re going to give me a big head.”

The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the pizza.

They set the box on the coffee table and sat cross-legged on the carpet to eat directly from the box. When they finished, Marie suggested a stroll around the neighborhood. She loved to get ideas for fixing up their own small home. And though he pretended interest, she knew do- it-yourself projects held little appeal for Rick. That’s why she planned on spending her vacation hanging around the house this year, painting and gardening. They couldn’t afford any out-of- town trips, anyway.

Their neighborhood architecture varied from sturdy bungalows to two-story bricks with white pillars. It was an older area of homes, well kept, with long, generous yards that held blooming flowers and thick lawns that grew down to the sidewalk. Magnolias, flanked by round flower gardens, bloomed in nearly every yard, perfuming the air with a sweet southern scent.

Marie took Rick’s hand as they strolled. A romantic saunter through the neighborhood on a warm summer evening was one of Marie’s favorite things to do.

“Are you glad you married me?” Rick asked.

Marie was surprised by the question. Weren’t her feelings obvious to him? “More than glad.

I’m deliriously happy.”

He squeezed her fingers gently. “I’m glad. I worry that you’ll wake up some day and look at me and wonder why you married a boring accountant. And maybe some sharp good-looking detective will lure you away.”

She squeezed back. “Never. I get enough excitement at my job. The last thing I’d want is to be married to a detective. I’d never get any down-time.”

“I’ll remember that the next time I feel insecure. You’re my life, you know. I couldn’t live without you.”

His words touched her soul and penetrated her heart, making her feel undeserving. Since she struggled to express her feelings, she admired how he never held back. If anyone should be insecure, it should be her. “I’ll be with you until we’re old and gray,” she assured him. “Someday we’ll be creaking on rocking chairs on our porch,” he said.

“Exactly,” she said.

It would be a long time before either of them would do much sitting or creaking.

They rounded the corner and Marie took a mental picture of a backyard bordered by a trellis with morning glories. She stored the pictures in her mind until the time when she would bring them to life and incorporate them into her own landscaping.

The backyard should have a pond with water lilies, and tiny goldfish to swim in the water. And she would plant hibiscus in a garden along the fence. And maybe they’d screen in the patio so they could sit outside on warm evenings when the mosquitoes were bad.

Marie couldn’t imagine a landscape that wasn’t moist and green. Verdant grass, weeping willows, mimosa with sweet smelling, pink umbrella blooms and, of course, lots of honeysuckle to scent the air.

She’d been west once on a family vacation when she lived in Montgomery with her parents and sister. Her parents had decided to take the family on an educational trip to the Grand Canyon. It was a good trip. Yet she returned with no desire to further explore the southwest. Though the Grand Canyon took her breath away, the rocky landscape and sparse trees of Arizona were too rugged for her taste. She missed the blanket comfort of thick trees and of grass underfoot and remained content in the state where she was born.

They finished their walk as the sun blazed a crimson farewell before the curtain of darkness fell. Though the evening was pleasant, they would have to go inside. For, with darkness, came the mosquitoes.

They popped in a movie and Marie made popcorn. With Rick beside her, Marie sipped a soda and thoroughly enjoyed their evening together. She hardly thought about work until the next morning when the newspaper ran a photo of the missing man along with a reward for information about his whereabouts.

“Isn’t this one of your cases?” Rick asked.

He sipped a glass of orange juice while she skimmed the story. “Yeah. Maybe the photo will give us a lead.”

“I hope so. However, the guy could be anywhere. In another state, or even out of the country.

Or dead,” he added.

“I’d bet on the dead. If he was leaving, why didn’t he tell his roommate?”

“Maybe somebody was after him, the mafia or a gang. If he told his roommate, he’d be putting him in danger.”

Marie grinned at Rick. “You’ve been watching too much television.”

Rick’s smile revealed the cleft in his chin. “You’ll appreciate my advice when it turns out to be right. Just remember, I predicted he has to be somewhere.”

Marie rolled her eyes. “I’ll remember. Thanks for the help.”

She downed a bowl of cereal before heading to the station. The whereabouts of Charles Taylor had more leads than the missing roommate investigation. She would begin by checking with Taylor’s employer, and then, go by his house and ask the neighbors what they knew about him.

First, she had to check in at the station.

Miss Kent greeted her and gave her good news. Marie had no messages and could spend the day tracking down information about Mr. Taylor. She began by jotting directions to his job, house and the bar where he was last seen.

As she was leaving, she passed Mark. He’d made detective only the year before and was working as hard as she was to prove himself.

“What up for you today?” he asked.

“I’m on the Taylor case. How about you?”

“I got a new one. A little girl abducted. We think the father took her. I’ve got a few leads to check out.”

“I hope you find her.”

“Yeah. And good luck on your day.”

“Thanks.”

Marie had a strange feeling as she backed out of her parking space. A premonition warned her that she was about to get in over her head. No doubt, Rick’s talk about gangs and mafia had taken root in her subconscious.

She shook off the feeling. This case was likely to be no more complicated than a simple robbery and murder. She’d have it solved in no time and the murderer behind bars.

She drove first to the city water plant where Taylor had worked with computers to control water quality. The gum chewing girl behind the desk viewed her from a position of power until Marie showed her badge.

Her eyes went wide.“The police. Is this about Mr. Taylor? He was murdered, huh? How awful.”

“Yes, I know. Would you let the plant manager know I’m here?”

“Sure. Just a sec.”

The girl rang a number and said, “Mr. Janes, a detective is here.”

He responded right away and appeared a moment later in the doorway. She studied him briefly and noted he was tall, slight of build and wore a strained smile. Marie might have suspected him of the crime had she not known that her badge made most people nervous.

“Mr. Janes, I wonder if I might speak to you for a moment.”

“Of course. My office is right down the hall. Would you like some coffee?”

“No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

She followed him into a wood-paneled office with a single window to let in the light. The room had a claustrophobic feel and was too dark for her taste. Perhaps Janes liked it this way.

She took a chair on the other side of his polished oval desk and asked, “How well did you know Mr. Taylor?”

“Not well, I’m afraid. I mean, I knew him only at work. He didn’t talk much about his life.

He wasn’t married and he recently bought a house. I don’t believe he had family in town. He never mentioned any.”

“Did he mention friends or any activities he enjoyed outside of work?” Mr. Janes pulled his rather long face into a thoughtful frown.

“Not that I remember. He only worked part-time here. I didn’t see him that often. Once or twice, he talked about fixing up his house and yard. He wanted it to be something he was proud of.”

“Is there anyone else working here who might know him better?”

“Maybe Fox.”

“Fox?”

“Earl Fox. He used to hang out with Taylor.”

He placed a call.

A few minutes later, a man in a city work uniform showed up. He was short and square with a five o’clock shadow at nine o’clock in the morning.

Janes introduced them and Marie asked Fox what he knew about Taylor.

“We went out for drinks a couple of times. Never met any of his other friends. I know he liked to go to the Renaissance Club. That’s where I went with him. It’s too expensive for my taste, so I went only with him.”

“Were you with him on the night he was killed?”

“No. No way. I would have come forward if I knew anything.”

“I’m sure you would have. Did you notice anyone he spoke to when you went with him to the Club?”

“No, just the waitresses. He was always real nice to the girls.”

“Any waitress in particular?”

“Nope. He was just a nice guy. I don’t know why anyone would want to kill him.”

“What did you talk about at the Club?”

Fox brightened. “Cars. We’re both into fixing up and racing cars. He had an old Buick at his Mom’s place. He was gonna fix it up when he got the time.”

“Anything else?”

Fox wrinkled his brow. “We talked about work. And maybe about fishing. We planned to go fishing sometime, but we never made it.”

“Were either you or Mr. Janes ever at his home?”

They shook their heads.

“And he never talked about a girlfriend or ex-wife?” Marie asked.

Again they shook their heads.

“I don’t think he’d ever been married. He never mentioned dating, either,” Fox said.

“Okay. No girlfriends. How long had he worked here?”

“Part-time for almost a year,” Janes told her.

“Do you know what he did before that?” she asked.

“He went to college in Montgomery, but didn’t finish his degree,” Janes answered.

“Why not?”

They looked thoughtful.

“He got tired of school, I think,” said Fox.

“I see. Did he talk much about his family?” she asked.

“Just his mom,” Fox said. “She’s still in Montgomery. I think his dad died a long time ago. But he was crazy about his mom. He sent her flowers and called her a lot. I think they were pretty close. He had a brother but didn’t talk much about him. I think he was in prison.”

“In prison? For what?”

Fox shrugged. “Drug dealing, I think. Charles didn’t like to talk about him.”

“Okay. I think that’s all I need for now. If you think of anything else, please call me.”

She handed each of them her card with her cell phone and work number.

“Sure,” Janes said.

Fox nodded. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“You, too.”

Marie passed the gum chewing girl on her way out of the building and nodded good-bye. The girl stared, wide-eyed as Marie left to drive to Taylor’s house. She’d gotten the okay to use the key found in his pocket to go inside. When she arrived, she found it wouldn’t be necessary.

The door stood ajar. Prickles rose on the back of Marie’s neck. Was someone inside? If so, going in alone might prove risky. Choosing caution, she called for back-up.

In less than five minutes, an unmarked car pulled up, sans sirens in order to retain the element of surprise. She followed as the two officers walked up to the house. Unlike Marie’s neighborhood, these houses were new and modern in design, if not overly large.

Proceeding cautiously, she followed the officers into the tiled entry and glanced left into the small unfurnished living room in which movies spilled from the entertainment center and lay scattered across the floor. Drawers were dumped from the computer desk in the corner and cushions lay strewn from the sofa.

The officers swept the house before leaving Marie to thoroughly check the three bedrooms, bathrooms and kitchen. Each room had suffered a similar upending. The contents of the kitchen drawers lay on counters and across the floor as did the freezer goods and refrigerated foods.

She found nothing in the furnished bedroom that raised her suspicions. Yet, it seemed obvious that someone had broken it to look for something. A burglar would have taken the computer, gold watch and coin collection on the dresser.

Since it didn’t make sense, Marie began to wonder if Mr. Taylor was more than a random murder victim. She stifled her premature thoughts. She was letting her imagination run away with her. Perhaps, a burglar was looking for one specific thing, jewelry, for example. The overturned drawers were far from proving that Mr. Taylor possessed something that was highly desired by a murderer.

She left everything as she’d found it and called for a team to take prints in the house. All they needed was a good set and they’d know who had been here. Whether this person was also the murderer was another question.

When the team arrived, she turned the scene over to them and walked next door to the neighbor’s lot. She rang the bell and waited.

A young woman with a baby in her arms and a toddler at her knees opened the door. She looked frazzled.

“I’m Detective Alvarez,” Marie said, holding up her badge. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your neighbor, Charles Taylor.”

The woman frowned. “Who?”

“Charles Taylor. He lived in the house that was just built.”

“Oh, that guy. I’ve seen him drive past a few times. I don’t know him though.”

“Have you ever spoken to Mr. Taylor?”

“No. I’m usually busy with the kids.”

“Have you seen many cars come and go from his house?”

She shook her head. “Not that I can remember.”

Marie pulled out a card. “If you remember anything, please give me a call.”

“Sure.” The young woman took the card, keeping it out of the toddlers grasping hands.

Marie heard the baby begin to fuss as the woman shut the door. She sighed as she glanced across at the vacant lot. The neighborhood was still being built. There weren’t a lot of neighbors to question. However, there was a house down the block that she could try.

She rang the bell and waited. No one answered.

Their name was on the mailbox. STEPHENS. She looked up the phone number and put it on speed dial. She’d try to give them a call later.

Though this was a priority case, it would take a while to get information about any prints that were found. Perhaps she’d learn more by talking to Taylor’s mother.

She went back to the office and pulled up listings for all the Taylors. Comparing Charles phone records, she placed a call to Susan Taylor on Peabody Road. A woman answered on the second ring.

“Mrs. Taylor. This is Detective Alvarez.”

Marie hated this part of the job. She’d like to postpone giving Mrs. Taylor the bad news until she could see her in person. However, most folks insisted on knowing why she’d called.

“Do you have a son named Charles Taylor?” she continued.

“Yes. What about Charles?” The woman sounded hesitant.

“I wonder if I could drive up to talk to you. It will take me about two and a half hours. Will you be home?”

“Yes, of course. But is something wrong?”

“It would be better if we could meet in person.”

“All right. But is Charles okay? He’s not in trouble, is he?”

“He’s not in trouble with the law. I’ll be there soon and we’ll talk.”

Marie hung up before Mrs. Taylor could ask any more questions.

She told the boss where she was going before she set off for Montgomery. She didn’t relish telling a mother that her son was murdered. Yet, she felt sure Mrs. Taylor would want to provide any information that would help solve the crime. Telling herself it would be worth it, Marie set off for Montgomery.

––––––––

...

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At work, Camilla scrunched up her face and tried to understand what the twins had meant last night when Tamara had told her the man who’d teased her wouldn’t bother her anymore.

“Why not?” she’d asked.

“Just because,” they’d said, and laughed.

She couldn’t get any more out of them. She hoped they hadn’t done anything naughty. With Evie and Tamara, it was hard to tell. They’d always loved to play jokes. Sometimes they weren’t nice ones, like when Evie shoplifted in high school, or when Tamara put a lizard in a mean girl’s backpack. Jokes, they said. All jokes. Camilla didn’t think it was right. But they didn’t listen to her.

She trod to the back of the garden to water the potted trees, wishing she could keep herself from checking the dirt for more mounds. She dreaded seeing a new one. Yet, something compelled her to look.

This morning, there was nothing new. Maybe it had stopped. She hoped so, because, if Mrs.

Martin ever found out, Camilla was sure she’d be upset.

A new thought entered her head. What if Mrs. Martin blamed Camilla for the bodies? After all, Camilla did know about them. Maybe Mrs. Martin would be angry that Camilla had left them there.

It was all very hard to puzzle out. Camilla decided to talk it over with Evie and Tamara. Maybe they would have an idea of what she should do.

When she was nearly finished for the day, a customer came in for a truckload of sod and Camilla had to help load it. Then, she had to help a last minute customer choose plants. It was amazing how many people stopped off from work without noticing that the garden store closed at six.

It was nearly seven o’clock before she got home.

She made herself a sandwich and went onto the patio to eat. The old iron table and chairs were rusty, but Camilla didn’t care. They reminded her of lunches on the patio with Mama. She’d never get rid of anything Mama had used.

The mosquitoes circled her. Camilla swooshed them away. Yet they only came back.

She finished her sandwich and sipped her tea, nice and sweet, the way Mama always made it.

It wasn’t until a moth landed in the tumbler that she decided to go inside. She took with her the sweet scent of the roses and verbena, hollyhock, and lilac.

She found a twenty dollar bill lying on the dining table and smiled. Mama must have noticed that she needed groceries. Camilla had spent her money on flowers and candy. She loved candy, especially gumdrops. Mama always said Camilla would rot her teeth. But she brushed well and had never had a cavity.

Camilla put the twenty dollar bill in the pocket of her jeans. Tomorrow, she’d stop by the store after work. She would get some lunch meat and apples, and magazines with pretty pictures to cut up for puzzles. And cereal for breakfast. If she had money left over, she’d get diet soda for the twins. They liked to watch their calories. Camilla didn’t care about her figure. She wasn’t attractive. So why bother?

She fell asleep early on the couch after finishing a puzzle of a beach scene that Evie had given her. This was what she usually did. It seemed less lonesome on the couch than up in her bedroom.

When her alarm rang at seven o’clock, she was well rested. She turned it off and took a sip of water that sat on the coffee table. It tasted like wine. That was odd since Camilla didn’t drink.

She took another sip. Definitely not water. The twins liked wine. She kept some in the refrigerator for them. Then she understood. They must have come in while she was sleeping and played a joke.

She poured out the wine and filled her glass with orange juice. Since she was out of cereal, she ate some bread with mint jelly. Then she got ready for work.

When she put on her jeans, she was surprised by the twenty dollars in her pocket. Then she remembered that Mama had left it. She was supposed to go to the store after work for...

She shook her head. For what? If only she could recall. Sometimes she didn’t remember very well. She was glad Mrs. Martin was patient with her because she always worried about losing her job. She could probably find another one, but she liked working at the garden store. She hoped she could work there forever.

When Camilla got to work, she was surprised to see Mr. Martin running the store. “Mrs. Martin is sick, Cammy. So, I’ll be here today.”

“Will she be all right?”

“Sure. It’s just a nasty cold. You don’t mind working with me, do you?”

Camilla shook her head. “No.”

“Good. Why don’t you take care of the watering and tell me when you finish.”

“Okay.”

Camilla watered the trees and sprayed down the potted plants under the canopy that led into the back of the store. She didn’t see any new mounds and she was grateful for that.

She watered the roses on the side patio before looking for Mr. Martin.

He was on the telephone with his landscape crew. He usually oversaw their work, but today he was here to tell her what to do. She was glad he was here. It was too much to figure out by herself.

Since they’d nearly sold out of hanging baskets, Camilla was put to work making new ones. She loved the freedom of choosing the plants that looked best together. She was pleased Mr. Martin trusted her with the job.

By the time she finished all fifteen baskets, it was time for lunch.

Mr. Martin came to approve her work. “Very nice. You have a good sense of color.”

Camilla smiled.

“What do you usually do for lunch?” he asked.

“I bring my lunch.”

“What did you bring today?”

“A peanut butter sandwich. I ran out of meat. I need to go to the store.” She smiled, pleased to remember what she needed.

“Come out with me and we’ll get a hamburger. My treat. You can even get a shake if you like.”

Camilla loved prepared food. Tamara and Evie didn’t take her very often. “That would be great. What about my sandwich?”

Camilla had been taught not to waste food.

“I’m sure one of the guys on the landscape crew will eat it. They’re always hungry. I’ll ask Ronny to come over and watch the store while we’re gone.”

Camilla felt good about this. She was going to eat out while still helping someone who was hungry.

“All right.” Camilla retrieved her lunch bag and handed it to the young man who came over to watch the store. He gave her a look that she couldn’t quite fathom as she followed Mr. Martin to his car. When she looked back, he was still watching her.

Mr. Martin’s car was much nicer than her old Dodge. She ran her hand along the warm leather seat. It smelled nice. There were no rips and tears, no candy wrappers on the floor.

“You like it?” Mr. Martin asked.

“Oh, yes. It’s very nice.”

He chuckled. “My wife doesn’t like it. She says it cost too much. Believe me, it’s been worth it.”

Camilla wasn’t sure what to say. So she watched the scenery. They didn’t go far before Mr. Martin exited the freeway to turn onto a street full of eating places. Steaks and hot wings, pizza and burgers.

He pulled into a burger joint that Camilla recognized. She followed him inside.

“Order whatever you like,” he said.

Camilla liked Mr. Martin. He was treating her as though it were her birthday. She’d never realized he was so nice.

She ordered a burger, small fries and chocolate shake. He ordered the same. She told herself she must remember to thank him when they were finished.

The food was delightful, the burger so hot and juicy that it melted in her mouth. She was glad it was noisy and crowded. She didn’t know how to make conversation and was sure she’d say something foolish. Since it was hard to hear, she didn’t even try.

Mr. Martin took a bite of his burger and sighed. “Delicious. You can’t beat it, can you?”

“No, sir,” she said, hoping that was all he would ask.

She sipped on her shake, loving the way the creamy chocolate slithered in a smooth, silky river down her throat.

He leaned forward. “You’re a very pretty girl, you know?”

Camilla choked on her shake, getting part of it in her nose. She blew it on her napkin. “Not me, Mr. Martin. I’m not pretty at all.”

“But you are. You have nice eyes, and your hair would be pretty if you fixed it and you have a nice figure.”

Camilla stared at him. “I’m dumpy. Evie says I’m fifteen pounds overweight.”

“Who’s Evie?”

“My cousin.”

“Evie’s wrong. I find you attractive.”

Camilla chomped a French fry in half, dropping one part onto the table.

“Come with me when we finish here and let me prove it,” he said.

“Where?”

“To a motel. I know a nice one. I’ll rent us a room.”

Camilla didn’t think his intentions sounded right. “Mrs. Martin wouldn’t like that.”

“Mrs. Martin doesn’t have to know. I won’t tell her.”

Camilla shook her head. “I wouldn’t do anything to make her sad. She hired me.”

“Don’t you want a little fun in your life? She tells me you never go out.”

“I don’t like to go out.”

“You’d like to go out with me. Come on, Camilla, what do you say?”

“No. It’s not right. I shouldn’t be alone with you. Even if you let me watch television all afternoon, I wouldn’t go.”

Mr. Martin clenched his jaw. It made his slim face look like a gargoyle. Camilla didn’t like it.

He wadded up his trash and set it on the tray. “All right, Camilla. Maybe another time.”

She finished her fries. “No.”

“You won’t tell Amanda, will you?”

“Who’s Amanda?”

“Mrs. Martin.”

“I won’t tell. It might hurt her feelings.”

She sipped her shake.

He was ready to leave.

“Can I take my drink?” she asked.

“Sure. Just don’t spill it.”

When they returned to the store, the young man winked at Camilla before Mr. Martin sent him back to the landscaping crew. Camilla couldn’t understand the reason.

Mr. Martin seemed cross with her all afternoon. She felt sorry for disappointing him. Yet, she knew what he wanted would not have been right.