Read Between the Tines Page 9

  Could she pique my interest any better than that? I checked my watch. I had an hour before I needed to be at the radio station. Enough time for a quick chat and hopefully enough time to ask a few questions of my own. "I'm on my way."

  I hung up, circled the block and pointed my truck in the direction of the Buzzys' house. After Adam took charge for the second time in as many days, I didn't feel guilty about going to see Karen. What was with him, anyway? Maybe I didn't know him like I thought I did? Was he even the right man for me? Not if this continued. I was struggling enough to relinquish control of my life to God; I couldn't be with a man who seemed to want me to give up control, too.

  I parked in front of Karen's house and jumped out of the truck. The sight of her house hit me hard, and my anger eased. Shoot, it fully dissolved when I remembered that Karen would just be happy to have Gary alive. I sighed. Adam and I could work this out. We just had to talk about it. Tonight after dinner, I'd make him understand why I needed to do this.

  I skirted around a silver Cadillac hanging over the sidewalk at the end of the driveway. Must belong to Karen's mom. Strolling up the walkway, I contemplated what to say if she looked down on my involvement in this investigation. Though Karen wanted me to investigate, I wouldn't be surprised if her mom held another opinion.

  I pressed the doorbell and patted my hair as if arriving for a job interview. My palms felt moist. What was it with moms? How could the mere thought of one take you back to the childhood angst of getting caught when you'd done something wrong? Not that I engaged in terrible mischief in my youth, but I received my share of groundings and punishments.

  The door opened. I sucked in my breath and held it.

  "You must be Paige," the smiling older version of Karen said. "I'm Yolanda Brown, Karen's mother."

  I released a rush of air. "Karen asked me to come over."

  She nodded, her fashionable chin-length bob swinging as she moved. "Please, come in. And thank you for arriving so fast. Karen's in the kitchen." She closed the door and headed for the front hallway, glancing over her shoulder as she glided like a model on the runway. "This has been so difficult for Karen. She seems to brighten a bit when she thinks about catching Gary's killer. She's certain you're going to find him."

  I followed her down the hall, wishing I had even one fourth of that certainty.

  At the kitchen entrance, I hung back and let Yolanda announce my arrival. She wore a linen pantsuit in muted beige, the legs whispering together as she walked. I looked around the renovated room with top of the line stainless appliances, marble countertops, rich mahogany cupboards, and slate flooring. Gary had obviously been well paid if they could afford such a sumptuous kitchen.

  Karen sat on a padded wrought iron stool behind a wide island. Her eyes were sunken and accentuated with dark moons below. She wore a loose fitting silk pantsuit in a ruby red. Yolanda spoke in quiet tones that seemed appropriate for such a lush space and for Karen's fragility. From this distance, the pair looked like sisters, their profiles nearly identical.

  I would have to call Yolanda baby's breath, 'Bristol Fairy' to be exact. In any garden, this plant was one of the most valuable, and her comfort would surely be priceless to Karen right now. Plus 'Bristol Fairy' went so well with feverfew. They would naturally be grouped together in my garden.

  Yolanda stepped back, and Karen leaned forward.

  "Paige," she shouted and hopped off the stool. Eyes darting about, she rushed across the tile and enveloped me in a fierce hug. "You're the only one who can understand what I'm going through."

  Huh, me? Understand the loss of a spouse? Where could she have gotten such an idea? Still, I let her guide me to the island and climbed onto a stool. "So, what's this all about?"

  "That police chief, Mitch Lawson, that's what. I want to throttle him something fierce." Eyes darkening, she looked at Yolanda for affirmation. Yolanda patted Karen's hand and gave her a quick nod. Karen drew in her breath. "He called me this morning. All syrupy sweet at first. I thought he was so kind to call and offer his condolences. But then, he asked the unthinkable." She clutched her chest.

  I sat forward in anticipation. "What did he ask?"

  "He had the nerve to ask me if Gary was having an affair. Imagine! And if that wasn't enough he hinted that I'd found out about the affair and killed him." Her voice broke in a sob.

  I squirmed on the seat until my back connected with the iron. So this was what I was good at dealing with? Mitch's misplaced ideas.

  Why would he suspect an affair? Did Verna run to him and tattle about the photo Karen had hacked up? Could it have to do with seizing Gary's work computer? Did they find something incriminating on the PC? And most importantly, did Karen kill her husband?

  I didn't believe it for one minute, but I had to follow up on all clues. "Did Mitch tell you how he came to this conclusion?"

  "No and when I pushed, he clammed up and told me he'd be in touch. Just like that. He tarnishes my memory of Gary and hangs up. But then, you know how that man operates. You've been in my shoes."

  I patted her arm, infusing my hand with sympathy. "I sure do understand how frustrating Mitch can be. After a while, I found the best way to handle these feelings of rage is to move forward. Let's forget about Mitch and figure out who really killed Gary. Then you won't have to deal with Mitch anymore."

  Her eyes brightened. "Did you have any luck with Nathan?"

  "He didn't have time to answer all of my questions, but he did give me some background information. I'll need to ask you a few follow up questions. Is this a good time?"

  "Yes, of course."

  I glanced at Yolanda for her take on questioning Karen in this fragile mood. Yolanda, face wrenching with the pain of watching her child suffer, gave a clipped nod.

  I would proceed with caution. "You and Gary moved here three years ago. Could you tell me why?"

  She broke into a full smile as if the memory of coming to Serendipity was a pleasant one. "The promotion. Gary got a wonderful offer to relocate. In fact," she held her palms up, "we paid for this kitchen with the bonus he got for making the move."

  Hello, what? I schooled my face to hide the surprise threatening to consume it. Promotion and bonus. Big difference from Nathan's story. Seemed like Karen knew nothing about the Fatal Attraction woman. Maybe Mitch was right and Gary did have another affair. Maybe Karen had multiple reasons to kill Gary. Maybe he was nothing more than a hound dog.

  I needed to push her, see if she tripped up in her story. "Sounds like Gary was good at his job. Never had any problems."

  "He was the best. Always getting promotions and raises. It's no small feat working your way up to the corporate executive management team at his age." Her pride rang through her words, and I just couldn't see her as a murderer.

  I would be careful not to burst her bubble if in fact Gary simply failed to tell her about his job issues. "I stopped at Gary's office. The police had taken his computer. Do you have any thoughts on why they might do that?"

  "Heavens no. But then, I'm no computer whiz. I can barely manage email and the internet." She glanced at Yolanda. "Can you think of any reason, Mom?"

  Yolanda shook her head. "I'm even more helpless than you."

  "But you have a home computer?" I asked Karen.

  "Two, actually. Gary always had so much work to do that he bought a laptop to work on while watching TV. He bought me one as well. He said with all the confidential information on his, I should really have my own." She smiled, crinkling her eyes. "He was always so thoughtful. Thinking of me first." Tears began to drip down her cheeks, and Yolanda held out a tissue.

  I rushed on before the subject changed. "Maybe there's something on his computer that could help. Would you mind if I looked at it?"

  "Sure, you can do it right now."

  I checked my watch. "Actually, I need to do my radio show. Could I come back as soon as we're off the air?"

  Karen looked at Yolanda then the dam of tears she'd held back burst. Yoland
a sucked in a breath as if she was also fighting tears. "We're leaving in a few minutes to make Gary's funeral arrangements. The police chief said some big shot at Pacific Pickles managed to get the autopsy rushed. So we're planning Gary's service for Thursday." Yolanda drew Karen into a hug.

  My heart wrenched in sadness at the sight of their grief. Karen was wrong. I was not the person to help her now. When plants died, their fellow garden mates needed no consolation, so I had no idea what to say. I certainly didn't want to utter the meaningless platitudes I'd heard when my mom passed away.

  Yolanda pushed back and looked at Karen. "Since Gary's computer is a laptop why don't you let Paige take it with her?"

  Karen sniffled. "Yes, good idea. Will you get it, Mom? His is the black one on the desk."

  Yolanda squeezed Karen's shoulder and silently left the room.

  Karen swiveled her chair and reached out for a small notepad with her name printed on the top. "Gary probably used a password. I'll write down some of the passwords we've used in the past."

  I sat mute and waited as she scribbled on the pickle shaped pad. I so wanted to say something comforting. Yet, everything swimming through my mind seemed trite. But how could I ignore her pain and not show her I cared?

  She ripped off the page and slid it across the counter. I stood and pocketed the list. Our eyes met. I moved forward and wrapped my arms around her heaving shoulders. "I can't begin to imagine your pain, but God watched His son die, so He understands," I whispered. "Can I pray for Him to heal your pain?"

  Karen's whole body moved in a nodding fashion, and I knew I'd done the right thing in offering God as her comforter rather than my inept fumbling.

  When was I going to look to God before trying to do everything my way first? I could count on Him to do the work if I would simply get out of His way. Praying would be a start. Not only for relief for Karen's immense pain, but for the ability to solve this crime.

  I held Karen tighter and offered up my request. With God in my court, I would succeed in finding Gary's killer, and make no mistake, the sobbing woman in my arms guaranteed I would go forward with this hunt, no matter the cost.

  Chapter Eleven

  I should have included the radio show in my prayer. We'd endured more than our share of nutty callers in the fifty minutes we'd been on the air. If that wasn't enough, I'd just opened the show for the dating challenged before going to commercial break. If my listeners knew I was guilty of withholding secrets from my boyfriend, surely they wouldn't want to discuss dating issues with me. But I couldn't admit to my subterfuge without ratting myself out on the airwaves. Not that Adam was likely tuning in to hear it today.

  "Earth to Paige," Lisa shouted through the open doorway between our booths as she hung up the phone.

  "Hey, did you get a chance to ask Perry about Adam last night?"

  "Perry said Adam could be bossy at times like all of us are, but that he was usually pretty easy-going."

  "Good, so this is just a phase and he'll lighten up after things settle down."

  "Hope so. We're back in five." She held up her fingers.

  I waited for the last one to drop. "Hello, caller. This is Paige Turner and you're on the air."

  "Hi, Paige. My name's Fiona. I know most callers like to use those made up names, but I hope there are some single male gardeners out there just dying to find a female to date." She chuckled. "Before I tell you my problem, I have to say I love your show. We think alike. It's all about the plants, nothing but the plants."

  Was I really such a gardening fanatic? Maybe that's why I didn't have a husband. "Um, well yes. So what is your question, Fiona?"

  "It's not really a question as much as it's a clarification. For a lot of the dating questions this month, you've told the callers to think of their dates like plants."

  Finally, someone who heard what I said. "Right you are, Fiona. I've found this way of categorizing people works not only for dating, but for life in general."

  "I guess it works for you, but it just didn't help me at all."

  "Really?" I looked at the clock. Time left. Keep her talking. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

  "I was at the nursery just hanging out when I spotted a terrific looking guy in one of the shrubbery aisles. Normally, I wouldn't have enough courage to approach him much less say anything, but I remembered your shows and decided to pretend he was one of my plants. I chose to think of him as a birch tree because he was so tall and on the thin side, not to mention really pale. Anyway, I walked right up to him and introduced myself. We talked for a while but then there was this painful silence and then, well. . .let's just say things went downhill." She sighed, long and loud over the airwaves.

  "I'm sorry, Fiona. What happened?"

  "He was standing there looking at me as if he was waiting for me to say something. I couldn’t think of a thing to say and I started to panic. So I said to myself, 'What would Paige do?' I remembered on another show how you advised us to compliment the guy, so I did. Gave him the best compliments I could think of. I told him what a fine specimen he was, praised him for how big he'd grown, standing nice and straight without the help of any supports and his pure white color. There I was thinking I'd done such a good job when he got this funny look on his face and bolted. You said this works for you. What did I do wrong?"

  I stifled my laugh. "Oh, Fiona. When I said to treat people like plants they resemble, I didn't mean literally. I meant that I use plant traits when I interact with people to remind me about a person's tendencies. Like an aggressive person might be classified as bamboo or a needy person could be an orchid."

  "Gosh, do I feel stupid."

  "Mistakes happen. Next time will be easier." I let my lame advice age for a few moments to eat up the remaining time. "Well, that's all the time we have for today. Be sure to tune in tomorrow." I punched the mute button and laughed over the crazy things done all in the name of dating. At least I knew better than to talk to Adam like he was a plant. True, I was no better, what with keeping my secret and all, but—wait, if we had dinner with Adam tonight, I needed to tell Lisa not to mention what I'd been up to.

  As I started to rise to go talk to her, my cell rang. I dug it out of my pocket and checked the caller. Hazel. I hadn't returned her call. If she made a second one, it had to be important.

  I answered and saw Lisa grab her large mom-bag and sling the canvas catchall over her shoulder. Our eyes met, and she stabbed a thumb at the exit mouthing, "I gotta go."

  I clamped my hand over the phone. "Wait. I need to talk to you."

  "No time. See you tonight." A flick of her fingers and she rushed into the hallway.

  "But I need to . . ." I sat back and sighed into the phone. "Sorry about that."

  "Bad day, huh?"

  "Nothing I can't handle. What's up?"

  "Sorry to bother you, but Uma Heffner is looking for you. Thought a heads up was in order." Hazel rarely became riled, but our local beautician possessed an uncanny knack for bringing out the worst in people.

  "Did she say what she wanted?"

  "Said her plant is looking sick and wondered if you could stop by to look at it. I told her you were real busy today and offered to come over, but she said it had to be you."

  "I can stop on my way to the shop. Otherwise everything going okay?"

  "If you don't count the jabbering Mr. T, yeah, fine. Some days I want to do that little guy in." She laughed in her deep gravelly tone. "See you later."

  I gathered my belongings and set off for the Crazy Curl. I would do my best to pacify Uma. Not because she was a good customer. The sick plant was only the second one she'd purchased from The Garden Gate, and she shelled out her money the second time because she'd watered the previous one with hair stripper. But, and here was the big but, Uma had a mouth like a public address system. Really. At least she thought she was performing a service to the public by keeping them up to date on the local gossip. If I failed to pacify her, she'd be sure to share all the details with her clien
ts and my business was so new that I couldn’t afford even one complaint.

  Uma or no Uma looming on my horizon, I could take the time to enjoy the day. I lowered my window and basked in the mid-seventies temp, blazing sunshine and the cloudless sky. I hummed to my radio and drove a few blocks then angled my truck in a space next to a shiny Beamer. Hmm, fancy car for around here.

  At the door, I peered through the glass. Only one customer at the shampoo bowl. Good, with so few customers Uma must be dying to spread gossip about Gary's murder. If she'd heard anything, she'd be sure to share any juicy tidbits the minute I walked in.

  I entered the shop, the bell tinkling above the door as I pushed it open. I was wrong. Uma was so engrossed what her client was saying that she didn't even look up. Her fingers were buried in mounds of soap on a woman's scalp, a woman Uma leaned over and whispered to. If Uma saw fit to whisper, the conversation must be good. I eased closer.

  "He wasn't very smart if you ask me. Emailing the woman on his work computer and leaving a trail." Uma reached out and adjusted the water temperature. Her black spandex pants stretched to the max and moved like a second set of skin. This was a sight no one needed to see.

  "Most people don't think about that," the woman said.

  I didn't recognize her voice or the muscular legs leading up to a leather mini-skirt. Expertly tanned legs tipped with feet more manicured than my hands. I was certain she didn't run in my gardening circles, but if I were to name her from appearance only, she'd be a coneflower. Though the coneflower's blooms weren't as showy as this woman was, her toned arms and legs reminded me of the coneflower that never needed staking to hold up the blooms.

  She cleared her throat. "Gary wasn't the first man nor will he be the last one who carried on an affair on the internet."

  Bingo, pay dirt, X marks the spot and all that. They were talking about Gary and his work computer. Maybe the computer Karen gave me had the same info. I needed to hear more. I sidled as close as possible without risking discovery.

  Uma rinsed out the soap, sending bubbles swirling down the drain. "If I was messing around with someone, I'd be more careful and erase my emails."