Murder by Arrangement Read online

  She pushed thoughts of Amanda aside and replaced them with images of Lettie. The girl had seemed to enjoy their outing around the South County coast. She’d even laughed and chattered away happily with Amanda. According to Lettie’s mother, that wasn’t normal behavior for the girl. But it should be, Edna thought, feeling anger roil her insides. She’d felt the sting of suspicion and gossip herself, and it had bothered her as a mature adult. What must a nine-year-old child be feeling when she senses the contempt or sees suspicion in the eyes of strangers, let alone her classmates?

  Stopped at a traffic light, Edna’s attention was drawn to a man stepping out of a nearby florist’s shop with a bouquet of red roses in his hand and a broad grin on his face. Valentine’s Day present, she thought and slowly began to feel her fury dissipate. The sight of the flowers, however, caused her thoughts to switch to Rosie and her friend-turned-traitor Farren McCree.

  Edna glanced at the time on her dashboard. According to the web site she’d found as she’d dug around the Haverstrum case, the nursery where Farren McCree worked at the time of Gregory’s death opened at ten during winter months. It was also not far away. Edna put on her turn signal as the light changed to green, made a left-hand turn and headed for the garden center. If she could find Farren, the woman might provide insights into her relationships--both with Rosie and with Gregory--that the news reports didn’t provide … that is, if Edna could get her to talk at all about what happened two years ago.

  The nursery was located in a rural neighborhood with off-road parking for about a dozen cars. Immediately inside double sliding doors was an area holding shopping carts and trolleys. Beyond that, another set of automatic doors opened into a temperate, humid area with a service desk to the right and check-out registers on the left. Ahead were free-standing displays holding a variety of gardening implements, gloves, books, pots and assorted other tools of the trade. Edna could tell by the high ceiling of translucent plastic that, behind the racks, the building stretched back for a considerable distance.

  A pleasant-looking, sixty-something woman sat behind the low service counter which appeared to double as her work space with a computer, phone and stacks of paper. At Edna’s inquiry, she said, “Yes. Miz McCree is one of our landscape designers. Would you like to speak with her? I can see if she’s available.”

  Edna assented, and the woman promptly picked up the receiver, pressed a button and paged Farren McCree to reception for customer assistance.

  While she waited, Edna wandered over to look behind the displays. The nursery was long but not wide. Four rows of narrow tables running perpendicular to the entrance were filled with plants. The rear of the area looked to be a closed-off greenhouse, while off to her right was an open space filled with bags of soil, peat, mulch and shelves of planters and pots, decorative and utilitarian.

  “Did you want to see me?” came a low-pitched, sultry voice from behind her.

  Edna spun to look into the deep blue eyes of a strawberry-blonde beauty of medium height. Dressed in navy slacks and pink blouse with frills at the collar and cuffs, Farren McCree looked more like an office worker than a garden-center employee. She held out a business card and, as Edna took it, Farren introduced herself, adding. “How may I help you?”

  Having been surprised by the sudden appearance of the woman, Edna had to think fast, wondering if she should come straight to the point or pretend to be a customer who needed professional advice. She decided if Farren made the slightest inquiry, she would soon find out that Edna was a member of the locally prestigious Greenthumbs garden society. Remembering the occasional flyers she received in the mail, Edna guessed the nursery had a list of club members. She decided honesty would get her into the least amount of trouble.

  “To be truthful, I’m here to ask about Rosie Beck. I guess you knew her by her married name. Rosie Haverstrum?” She spoke the name as a question.

  Farren looked startled for an instant before her eyes took on a hard glint that almost immediately turned neutral. “Who are you?”

  “A friend. Rosie recently moved to my son’s neighborhood. Her daughter and my granddaughter are school chums.”

  When Edna didn’t offer more explanation, Farren shook her head as if confused. “I haven’t spoken to Rosie for almost two years.” Her face softened slightly as she said, “And Lettie. She must be, what, about ten now.”

  “Nine,” Edna corrected and wondered if Farren had befriended her lover’s daughter. She tucked the thought to the back of her mind for a later discussion.

  Farren frowned. “Why would you ask me about them? Obviously, you’ve seen them more recently than I have.”

  A young couple pushing a cart came toward them, behind Farren. Edna took the woman by the forearm to move her out of the path, then looked around. “Is there a place where we can sit and talk?”

  “I don’t know what we have to talk about.”

  “Rosie’s daughter is having trouble in school because of the uncertainty surrounding her father’s death and her mother’s notoriety. One of the reasons they moved to my son’s neighborhood from where they’d been living is because people still suspect Rosie as having played a part in her husband’s death. The children of these cynics seem to be taking it out on Lettie, as well.”

  “Sorry to hear that, but I don’t see what it has to do with me.” Farren shrugged but her eyes were no longer fixed on Edna’s. She gazed around the room as if she were on an inspection tour.

  “I’m trying to get a more complete picture of what went on at the time Gregory Haverstrum died, so I might be able to find a way to help Lettie.” She took a step to her left, purposely placing herself in Farren’s line of sight. If the woman worked in a nursery, she must have something of a nurturing personality, Edna guessed. She wasn’t about to explain to this stranger that Edna’s own experience, plus concern for a granddaughter, also played a large part in motivating her to hunt for the truth.

  Farren’s gaze returned to Edna’s face and a frown creased her forehead. “Lettie? She was a sweet child. Why would anyone want to pick on her?”

  The question seemed redundant, but Edna thought Farren just might be sympathetic toward the girl. “I’ll be happy to tell you, but not in the middle of this store. Isn’t there somewhere quieter where we can talk?”

  Farren shrugged again, hesitated, then looked at her watch. “There’s a little diner in the next block where we can get a cup of coffee. Why don’t you meet me there? I can spare about thirty minutes, but then I’m meeting a client.”

  “Half an hour should be fine,” Edna said, hoping it would be and, within that amount of time, Farren McCree could shed more light on what happened two years ago.

  When they had settled into a booth at the Harborside Café and given their waitress an order for two coffees, Farren sat sullenly. She stared around the nearly empty room and appeared to regret her decision to meet with Edna. Hoping to put the woman at ease and get her to talk, Edna decided to ask Farren about herself. “How long have you worked at the garden center? You’re a landscape architect, is that correct?”

  “Designer. Architect. Pretty much the same thing,” Farren said, concentrating on spreading a paper napkin across her lap.

  Edna knew that an architect was licensed, and typically had more education and experience than a designer. She’d thrown out the title as a test of Farren’s integrity. The woman had failed, which meant that Edna had just learned that she’d need to take the conversation with a grain of salt where the woman’s ego was concerned.

  “How long have you worked for the nursery?” Edna repeated her previous question.

  “Six years this coming June.”

  “Was Rosie employed there at the time, or was she hired after you?”

  Farren shook her head, finally looking directly at Edna. “She’d been employed almost two years when her husband died. After his body was found, she never did come back to work.” Farren then sighed deeply, as if resigned to explaining the past. “I met the Haver
strums when Gregory hired me to plan their yard.” Edna thought Farren would stop there, but she continued after only a brief pause. “They’d lived in the house for a few years, but had never sought professional advice. When Gregory’s business began to take off, he decided to treat his top clients to a catered lawn party. For that reason, he wanted the yard designed by an expert. I understand, prior to that, his mother-in-law advised Rosie on what to do with the backyard.”

  Edna winced in mock horror. “Knowing the pride Lily Beck took in her own gardens, I doubt that hiring you would have gone over well with her.”

  “You’re right on that count.” Farren chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Fortunately, I don’t think she resented me half as much as she did Gregory, though. He told me that she criticized the landscaping every time she came to the house. Which,” Farren added with a grin, “was considerably more often than before the work began. I guess she made his life miserable. He paid dearly for stepping on her toes.”

  Farren seemed to realize the double meaning in her remark and immediately fell silent, but the exchange apparently broke the ice that had formed around her attitude. After grimacing a silent apology, she seemed to relax.

  Conversation stopped when the waitress approached, depositing two mugs of coffee and a small pitcher of milk on the table. When she’d gone after the usual, “Anything else I can get for you ladies?” Edna said, “What made Rosie seek employment at the greenhouse?”

  Farren shrugged and her smile seemed slightly malicious. “Don’t know. Maybe she found out her mama wasn’t quite as knowledgeable as she thought and wanted to learn some things for herself, or maybe she wanted to annoy Lily. They didn’t get along, you know.”

  Edna ignored the last remark and asked instead, “You say Rosie was at the nursery nearly two years before her husband died?”

  Farren tilted her head and frowned at the ceiling as if in thought. “Let’s see, I finished their yard in the fall. That’d be a little over four years ago now.” She dropped her gaze again. “Rosie applied for work late the following spring when we take on seasonal workers for the summer.”

  As Edna mentally calculated that Rosie must have been employed for a year before Farren’s affair with Gregory Haverstrum began, his former mistress continued to explain. “I told the owners, they shouldn’t hire her. I knew she wasn’t serious about working, not with a rich husband and a young daughter at home, but Rosie’s mother was president of Greenthumbs that year. Mel and Inez--they’re the owners--they figured Lily Beck would bring in business, so they didn’t listen to me. Not only that, but even after I warned them about hiring her, they assigned Rosie to my team.” Farren gave a short laugh, devoid of humor. “All she did was bring scandal to the place when the news reports speculated on whether or not she murdered her husband. Of course, she quit as soon as word got out about her possible guilt. Showed Mel and Inez I was right after all.”

  Ignoring the pettiness of Farren’s comment and the fact she seemed to forget the part she herself had played in the affair, Edna said, “Was Rosie also a designer?”

  “Are you kidding?” Farren scoffed. “She didn’t have the skills or the experience, regardless of her mother’s reputation. I was the boss. She and the others did the grunt work. I did the thinking.”

  “Did she work on many projects with you?” Edna bit her tongue to keep her expression neutral, although she was beginning to dislike this self-centered, arrogant woman.

  Farren looked at Edna suspiciously, but didn’t hesitate with her answer. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Why do you ask?”

  Edna shrugged in imitation of Farren herself. “Just wondering. The news at the time described the two of you as close friends.”

  Farren had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “Being friends with an influential society dame didn’t hurt me any.”

  Taken aback by the woman’s bluntness, Edna asked something she might not have, if she had liked the woman more. “At the time, did Rosie know you were having an affair with her husband?”

  To Edna’s surprise, Farren didn’t seem to mind the question. On the contrary, she looked almost pleased with herself. “Nah. She wasn’t smart enough to notice. Frankly, I’m not sure she would have cared if she had.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Farren twisted her mouth into a one-sided grin. “I knew from Rosie that they’d been fighting for months.”

  “So the love had gone out of their marriage? Is that why Gregory turned to you and then to Bobbi Callahan?”

  Farren reacted as if Edna had slapped her. Face reddening, she snapped, “He was asking for trouble when he started fooling around with the daughter of his biggest client. Duke Callahan would have killed him, if he’d known.” This time, she didn’t grimace at the implication of her words.

  Edna was curious about one thing and hoped Farren would continue to defend herself. “If your affair was over, why did you visit Gregory the day he died?”

  Farren paused for a minute as if trying to make sense of the question. When she replied, her voice was quieter and she seemed to have calmed down a little. “I went to pick up some personal belongings I’d left at his place. He kept avoiding me, wouldn’t take my calls, so when I heard he was sick and laid up at home, I decided to drop in on him.”

  “And you took him something to eat?” Edna knew from the news reports that Farren had brought homemade soup to the invalid.

  She shrugged. “I’d made beef stew for myself the night before. Stretching leftovers with some barley and broth isn’t exactly rocket science, and I thought it would be better for him than the pizza deliveries he was probably living on. No big deal.”

  And I bet you figured you could tempt him back by playing Florence Nightingale, Edna thought, but did not say aloud. Instead, she decided to push the woman further. “Why do you think Gregory left you for someone like Bobbi Callahan? I don’t know her, but I imagine you were more sophisticated and mature than a college sophomore.” Edna widened her eyes with what she hoped was a look of innocence, but as long as she was baiting the woman for a reaction, she’d keep going. “Did you and he quarrel?”

  Color flared in Farren’s face again. “Get one thing straight, lady. He didn’t leave me. I dumped him weeks before he picked up with his Bobbi doll. She wasn’t even old enough to buy booze in this state.” Farren grabbed up the shoulder bag she’d set on the seat beside her. “At any rate, it was of no concern. I’d already moved on.” She stood abruptly, glancing at Edna, then down at her watch. “I have a meeting.” With that, she spun on her heel and strode out of the restaurant, leaving Edna to pay the bill.

  Minutes later, Edna was backing out of her parking spot when she stopped for a car that was pulling in off the street. Since the lot was narrow, being merely a strip between road and restaurant, the driver stopped, apparently waiting for Edna’s spot. Dutifully, she backed out until her car was facing his. As she glanced at the man behind the wheel, recognition struck her at the same time as his face darkened. John Forrester scowled at her before fixing his eyes on the car that was driving away. Farren’s bright red BMW roadster. While his attention was diverted, Edna drove over the low curb and onto the road. As she accelerated past Forrester’s black Lincoln, keeping her eyes straight ahead, her heart thudded in her chest.

  What is he doing here? Was he looking for Farren? Has he been following me? Reconsidering the last thought, Edna scolded herself. Stop being paranoid. He’s probably here for lunch. At that moment, the thought struck her … even if it were purely coincidental that he had shown up at the Harborside Café, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that Edna had been talking to Farren.

  Chapter 15

  Edna decided not to go home, at least not yet. John Forrester knew where she lived and she didn’t want to chance an encounter with him, if he took it into his head to pay her another unannounced visit. She drove to one of the largest of the local malls and parked in the middle of a row where her car might blend in with others in the l
ot. She’d kept an eye on her rear view mirror and was fairly certain Forrester hadn’t followed her, but she knew from watching her favorite TV detective shows that expert investigators could be crafty when it came to trailing someone.

  He might be watching her right now, but she couldn’t very well sit in her car all day, nor did she wish to walk around the stores simply to kill time. Should she go see how Tuck and Peppa were getting along? Maybe she’d better organize her thoughts before she did anything else.

  Rummaging in her tote bag, she took out a small notebook and pencil and began to jot down the questions she had surrounding Peppa’s problem.

  How did Clem end up at the foot of Peppa’s driveway? According to Charlie, both Clem’s truck and Lily’s Impala were in the garage, so he hadn’t driven. Someone had cleared the snow off the driveway, so it was impossible to tell if or when the cars had last been moved.

  Had he walked? Edna thought it was fairly certain Clem wouldn’t have trudged three miles on a stormy night before collapsing less than a hundred yards from Peppa’s doorstep, but she wrote down the question anyway.

  Was he already dead when Peppa drove over him? That was the tough question and one the medical examiner would have to answer.

  If Peppa’s Mercedes hadn’t killed him, had he died of natural causes? Again, the answer would have to wait for the medical examiner’s report.

  Why was he clutching a Christmas Rose? Noting Lily Beck in the margin, Edna wondered with an inward groan how she would approach that question.

  So deep in thought was she that the sudden appearance of two women getting into the car to her left startled her. Not two minutes later, the owner of the pickup, parked on her right, got in and drove away. Sitting in her car with two empty slots on one side and one on the other, she felt exposed. Looking around cautiously, she started the car and moved to the next row, pulling in between an SUV and a van with the name of a plumbing company on the side. Feeling somewhat easier now and more than a little silly, she picked up the notebook and pencil again. Leaving a few blank pages, she began noting questions she had about the Haverstrum death.