“Daisies, roses, something like that. Two, three dozen of each. Whatever that’ll get you.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Darcy went through the automatic door into the store, he turned quickly. Frank Morris was watching him.
CHAPTER 9
Delilah tossed the flowers onto the couch. “I suppose you think buying up the entire flower store is going to buy me off? Well, think again.”
“Yes, Mother,” said Henry.
“Oh, cut it out.” Delilah stretched up to her full height plus the three inches her high-heeled sandals provided, and put her hands on her hips. She wore a ring with a gigantic yellow stone surrounded by quantities of small diamonds. “You’re staying in the guesthouse. Even though that man is here.”
“The pilot?”
“Who else? The alto? Maybe a tenor for a change?” Delilah jangled the silver bell on the end table. “You and he can work out your own sleeping arrangements.”
Lee slipped into the room. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Do something with those.” Delilah gestured at the flowers.
“Yes, ma’am.” Lee gathered up the bundles of paper-wrapped flowers and vanished.
Henry checked his watch. “It’s about time for a nightcap.”
“I’ve had mine. You may go, Darcy,” said Delilah.
“Perhaps he can show me to the guesthouse,” suggested the pilot, who’d stood next to Darcy, silent until now.
Delilah waved a dismissal at Darcy “Take him away.”
After the two had gone, Delilah paced to the end of the conservatory. Henry followed.
“I keep telling you, it was nothing, nothing at all.”
Delilah spun around and sneered. “Nothing?”
“Just a little fling. Feeling my oats.”
“Feeling your oats, you … you … horse’s ass.”
“Now, Mother …”
“Stop calling me that!”
Henry shook the bell and Lee appeared again. “My dear, get Miss Sampson her usual, and I’ll have a Jack Daniel’s on the rocks. Make it a double.”
“Whose side are you on this time?” growled Darcy as the two swaggered toward the guesthouse in the growing darkness.
“Expect me to answer?”
“Watch your step … Morris,” said Darcy.
“Same to you … Meyer,” said Frank Morris, or whatever his name was.
Victoria got up early the next morning to water her newly planted honesty. She had plans for the day. Elizabeth had the morning off and had baked muffins with blueberries they had picked and frozen last July.
“Any news about Lucy’s murder, Gram?”
“It’s early still,” said Victoria.
“I saw Lucy’s sons at Alley’s yesterday. I didn’t know what to say to them. I finally just said I was sorry.”
Victoria nodded. “That’s really all you can say.”
Around seven, she gathered up her cloth bag and lilac wood walking stick.
“Can I give you a ride someplace, Gram?”
“No, thank you. It’s a beautiful morning for a walk, and I’m going only as far as the police station.”
She headed down the drive, swinging her stick as though a marching band followed. She’d tell the chief about yesterday’s visit from Delilah, but without mentioning the reappearance of Emery Meyer as Darcy the chauffeur. Casey had never trusted him, whatever name he used.
The sun was up. Another warm day, and the old-fashioned double daffodils along the side of the road would be in bright bloom. She strode along, flicking last fall’s leaves with her stick, uncovering new growth. Redwing blackbirds caroled in the reeds by the pond. Spring, spring! Victoria’s heart lifted with the newness of it all.
As she got closer to the police station, the pond and its swans
came into view. She thought of Delilah’s snapping turtles. The mill pond, too, had its share of turtles.
This morning, Lucy’s murder seemed remote, even though she and Howland had discovered the body only the night before last. Thirty-six hours ago. Delilah’s problems seemed even more remote. How tiresome to have officials hungering for your money. She’d never have that to worry about.
She crossed the
“Yes, sir.”
As Darcy went through the automatic door into the store, he turned quickly. Frank Morris was watching him.
CHAPTER 9
Delilah tossed the flowers onto the couch. “I suppose you think buying up the entire flower store is going to buy me off? Well, think again.”
“Yes, Mother,” said Henry.
“Oh, cut it out.” Delilah stretched up to her full height plus the three inches her high-heeled sandals provided, and put her hands on her hips. She wore a ring with a gigantic yellow stone surrounded by quantities of small diamonds. “You’re staying in the guesthouse. Even though that man is here.”
“The pilot?”
“Who else? The alto? Maybe a tenor for a change?” Delilah jangled the silver bell on the end table. “You and he can work out your own sleeping arrangements.”
Lee slipped into the room. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Do something with those.” Delilah gestured at the flowers.
“Yes, ma’am.” Lee gathered up the bundles of paper-wrapped flowers and vanished.
Henry checked his watch. “It’s about time for a nightcap.”
“I’ve had mine. You may go, Darcy,” said Delilah.
“Perhaps he can show me to the guesthouse,” suggested the pilot, who’d stood next to Darcy, silent until now.
Delilah waved a dismissal at Darcy “Take him away.”
After the two had gone, Delilah paced to the end of the conservatory. Henry followed.
“I keep telling you, it was nothing, nothing at all.”
Delilah spun around and sneered. “Nothing?”
“Just a little fling. Feeling my oats.”
“Feeling your oats, you … you … horse’s ass.”
“Now, Mother …”
“Stop calling me that!”
Henry shook the bell and Lee appeared again. “My dear, get Miss Sampson her usual, and I’ll have a Jack Daniel’s on the rocks. Make it a double.”
“Whose side are you on this time?” growled Darcy as the two swaggered toward the guesthouse in the growing darkness.
“Expect me to answer?”
“Watch your step … Morris,” said Darcy.
“Same to you … Meyer,” said Frank Morris, or whatever his name was.
Victoria got up early the next morning to water her newly planted honesty. She had plans for the day. Elizabeth had the morning off and had baked muffins with blueberries they had picked and frozen last July.
“Any news about Lucy’s murder, Gram?”
“It’s early still,” said Victoria.
“I saw Lucy’s sons at Alley’s yesterday. I didn’t know what to say to them. I finally just said I was sorry.”
Victoria nodded. “That’s really all you can say.”
Around seven, she gathered up her cloth bag and lilac wood walking stick.
“Can I give you a ride someplace, Gram?”
“No, thank you. It’s a beautiful morning for a walk, and I’m going only as far as the police station.”
She headed down the drive, swinging her stick as though a marching band followed. She’d tell the chief about yesterday’s visit from Delilah, but without mentioning the reappearance of Emery Meyer as Darcy the chauffeur. Casey had never trusted him, whatever name he used.
The sun was up. Another warm day, and the old-fashioned double daffodils along the side of the road would be in bright bloom. She strode along, flicking last fall’s leaves with her stick, uncovering new growth. Redwing blackbirds caroled in the reeds by the pond. Spring, spring! Victoria’s heart lifted with the newness of it all.
As she got closer to the police station, the pond and its swans
came into view. She thought of Delilah’s snapping turtles. The mill pond, too, had its share of turtles.
This morning, Lucy’s murder seemed remote, even though she and Howland had discovered the body only the night before last. Thirty-six hours ago. Delilah’s problems seemed even more remote. How tiresome to have officials hungering for your money. She’d never have that to worry about.
She crossed the
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