Nightshade on Elm Street: A Flower Shop Mystery by Kate Collins Page A

a case,” Marco said.
    “That won’t stop us from enjoying them,” Halston said, then guffawed.
    “When you’ve finished talking to the others, trot across the beach to our humble abode,” Orabell called as they left the room. “We’ll be on the patio around back.”
    I heard Pryce say good-bye to the Burches; then he strode into the room accompanied by a blond-haired man in a navy tank top, low-slung white linen drawstring pants, and brown flip-flops. The man, who I assumed was Jake, appeared to be about my age, twenty-seven, and by the way he carried himself, I could see why Jillian poked fun at him. Even now, as Jake stood in front of me, he had locked his fingers together, turning his palms face out, and was stretching his arms to flex his muscles.
    “Jake Caldwell,” Pryce said, as Marco rose to meet him, “this is private detective Marco Salvare and his assistant, Abigail Knight. Jake, I’ll leave you to talk to them. I have a business call to make.”
    “Dude,” Jake said, sizing Marco up, “a for-real PI?”
    “For real,” Marco said.
    “Awesome.” Then, with a smile that revealed deep-set dimples, Jake gave me a leisurely once-over, returning to focus on my breasts. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said.
    I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him. “Likewise.”
He wished.
    “So is it true redheads have red-hot tempers?” he asked with a side curl of his upper lip.
    “Yep,” I said, “and a fast right hook.”
    Jake elbowed Marco. “Bet she’s a wild one in the sack.”
    “She’s my fiancée,” Marco said with a deadpan expression.
    Instead of taking the comment as an attitude correction, Jake raised his hand for a high five. Marco pulled out his iPhone to check his calendar instead. “When would it be convenient for us to meet with you and your wife?”
    Jake scratched his head, as though that was what he’d intended to do all along. “Oh, right. You’re here about Melissa. What time would be convenient for Lily and me? I don’t know. How’s ten o’clock tonight look?”
    “Here?” Marco asked.
    “Better make it at Beached. That’s where Lily usually is.”
    Marco tapped it into his phone. “We’ll see you there.”
    We were on our way out the front door when I heard my cousin call from up the center hallway, “Wait!” She was breathless by the time she caught up to us. “What did I miss?”
    “Nothing,” I said. “All we did was schedule interview times for this evening.”
    Marco pulled out his phone and opened the calendarapplication. “Would you and Clay…
more
be able to get here by six o’clock?”
    Instead of replying, Jillian hooked her hands through our arms and stepped outside with us. “Here’s a better idea. Let’s meet up at your bar after you’ve talked to everyone else so you can share their answers with me.”
    “You know we can’t do that,” I said.
    She made her
pfft
sound again. “You could if you wanted to.”
    “In what world do private investigators share their information with outsiders, Jillian?”
    She put one hand on her waist. “So you’re pulling the anti-professional excuse?”
    “It’s
un
professional,” I snapped. “Yes, Marco, I know my teeth are clenched, but can you blame me?”
    “Calm down,” Marco said, rubbing my shoulders. “What we find out is confidential, Jillian. By law, we can’t divulge anything or I’ll risk losing my license.”
    Jillian glanced over her shoulder, then whispered, “But I
know
these people, Marco. I can help you. I’ll be able to spot their lies.”
    “We’ll meet you here at six for your interview,” Marco said.
    “Thank you, Marco.” Apparently believing Marco had capitulated, she gave me a smirk and went back inside.
    “Is it any wonder that I grind my teeth at night?” I asked, as we walked to his car.
    “Try humoring her, Sunshine. You know what Grace always says. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”
    “I refuse to humor someone who makes up stupid