Sunflowers, Scarecrows, and Scandal, page 1
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SUNFLOWERS, SCARECROWS, AND SCANDAL
a Camelot Flowers Mystery
by
ERICA WYNTERS
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Copyright © 2024 by Erica Wynters
Published by Gemma Halliday Publishing
http://www.gemmahallidaypublishing.com
Cover design by Daniela Colleo
of http://www.StunningBookCovers.com
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
To Bella M., Adri, Sophia, Evelyn, and every other teenager who has surprised me by falling in love with these books. And to Micah and Savannah, my teenagers, who won't read these books because they don't want to read anything romantic their mom has written but are infinitely supportive and excited for every book I publish.
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CHAPTER ONE
"I don't think this is a good idea," I said, standing on the sidewalk outside Lucille's Clip and Curl with a very pregnant Penny.
"You need to trust me," she said insistently. "I read online that this is going to be the hot new hairstyle next year. You could be on the cutting edge of this trend."
"But a perm?" I asked incredulously.
"The eighties are back, baby," she said. "I'd do it myself, but I'm not sure the chemicals would be good for the baby." She put her hand protectively over her belly.
The leaves on the trees lining the street were brilliant shades of yellow, orange, and red. Halloween was a week away. Penny wanting me to get a perm was perhaps the scariest part of the season. "Any chemical that's not good for a baby won't be good for me either," I pointed out.
Penny looped her arm through mine and tugged me toward the door. "Eh," she hedged. "Wine isn't good for a baby, but it's just fine for you. This is the same thing."
"I'm not sure a perm is good for my love life," I argued as we got closer to the bright-red door.
"Or it could be very good. A real test to see who likes you for you," Penny said with more enthusiasm than the situation warranted.
"Wait a minute." I managed to pull Penny to a stop. Miraculously, she'd only gotten stronger in her pregnancy. "You can't tell me I'll look amazing with a perm one minute and then tell me that it'll be a test to see if Finn and Chris like me for who I am the next. Those two ideas completely contradict each other."
Penny hesitated. It took a lot to make Penny hesitate. I grabbed the opportunity, dislodged myself from her grasp, and walked through the door saying, "Hey, Lucille, just the trim I originally scheduled for today."
Lucille's platinum-blonde hair was in its signature beehive hairdo. You wouldn't want to get too close to her with an open flame. I could only guess at the amount of hairspray it took to keep her in the style she'd been rocking since before I was born. She gave me a sideways look, like I was being weird—which, in her defense, I kind of was.
Penny followed me in. "Spoilsport," she muttered under her breath.
"I'll be ready for your trim in a few minutes," Lucille said with a smile, recovering from my bizarre entrance. "Can I interest you in adding acupuncture to your appointment today? It's a wonderful way to de-stress."
Penny leaned in close and whispered, "It's a wonderful way to hit a nerve and end up with half of your face paralyzed."
I gave Lucille a big smile. "Just the haircut today," I said. I hooked my thumb in Penny's direction. "Penny's going to hang out if that's okay. We're going to lunch after this."
Lucille's eyes lit with interest. "Can I talk you into some acupuncture?" she asked Penny. "I have a few minutes before Gwen's appointment."
"I don't think it would be good for the—" Penny started.
"It's a known remedy for heartburn," Lucille interrupted.
Penny went silent. I'd known her my whole life. I could see she was considering it. I needed to save her from herself. It wasn't that I was against acupuncture. It was that I was against Lucille, who'd only taken a weekend class at a strip mall in Rose Lake, doing acupuncture.
"Penny's doctor told her not to," I said, which was sort of a fib but sort of the truth. While I'd never been to one of Penny's doctor appointments, I couldn't imagine her doctor would be okay with this setup.
"But the heartburn's been really bad," Penny murmured to me.
"Just the haircut today," I said confidently.
"That's just as well," Lucille said. "I haven't had much time to practice." She got a far-off look in her eyes. "Burt had a strange reaction yesterday when we were unblocking his chi," she said quietly, as if she were talking to herself. After a few more seconds of awkward silence, she shook herself, her gaze snapped back to us, and she gave us a wide smile. "I'll just get my station ready. One minute."
Lucille bustled away, and I turned to Penny. "You're welcome for saving your life from Lucille's needles," I said.
Penny rubbed her chest. "But the heartburn," she said with dismay.
"I'll buy you a Costco-sized bottle of Tums," I replied. I shuddered at Lucille's strange behavior. "I wonder what happened to poor Burt."
"That would make a good horror movie," Penny said. "The mild-mannered salon owner murders people with her acupuncture needles. Like a female version of Sweeney Todd."
I snorted out a laugh.
"I'm ready for you, Gwen," Lucille called out from the other side of the room. "Penny, you can sit in this empty chair."
The spot next to Lucille's station was unoccupied. Besides Penny and me, there were two other women getting their hair done. Penny followed me to Lucille's station.
Lucille fluffed my honey-brown hair that now reached my waist. "What are we thinking today?"
"Just a trim," I said. "Including the bangs." Penny had talked me into cutting a long fringe of curtain bangs last year that actually suited my face. Some of her ideas were amazing. Just not the perm-related ones.
"Maybe a few layers?" Lucille asked.
"No, just a trim," I said again.
"Lucille, what do you think of perms?" Penny asked.
"Just a trim," I said through clenched teeth, trying to keep my voice cheery while shooting Penny a look of pure death. She wanted to see a horror movie? She should keep bringing up the perm.
"For you, dear?" Lucille said to Penny. "I think you'd end up looking like a poodle."
Penny's shoulder-length, jet black hair would be quite the sight with a perm. I chuckled as Penny shot me a sour look.
"Let's get you shampooed, and then we'll give you that trim," Lucille said.
Ten minutes later, I was back in the chair wearing a leopard-print cape with my hair up in a bright-red towel. Lucille released my hair from the towel and combed it.
"You've got to be kidding me," the woman sitting across from Lucille's station said. "He did it again?" The woman's head was half-covered in silver foils.
"I'm not kidding. Right in the middle of the produce section of the Piggly Wiggly," Michelle said as she added more foils to the woman's hair. Michelle had been working for Lucille for years. I didn't know her well, but she'd cut my hair a few times.
"This has gotten completely out of hand," said the woman in the chair.
"What's gotten completely out of hand?" Lucille asked. She spun my chair around so I was facing the other women and continued to comb through my wet hair. "Gwen," she continued, "I'm not sure if you know Michelle and Christine."
"I know Michelle," I said. "Hi."
Michelle gave me a tight smile, but it was clear she was still upset about whatever they were talking about. Christine nodded the best she could as Michelle continued to work on her highlights. "Nice to meet you," Christine said.
Lucille introduced Penny quickly before asking, "What's the gossip?"
I shot Penny a wide-eyed look. Gossip could be interesting, but you also risked learning something about someone that you wished you didn't know.
Michelle put her fist on her hip and said, "Trevor Baker is a nasty man who treats his wife Sandra horribly. Yesterday, Ruth Ann and everyone else who was grocery shopping overheard Trevor berating Sandra because she'd accidentally gotten the organic apples instead of the regular. The price difference wasn't even that much, but he shouted at her for forever about how stupid she was."
"You're kidding," Penny said. "That's awful."
"Trevor and Sandra are my neighbors," I said. "They live across the street from me."
Michelle looked at me thoughtfully. "Do you live in the cute white house with the blue shutters or the brick ranch?"
> "The white house," I said, loving that she'd called my little house cute.
Michelle nodded, looking thoughtful. "Then you must know what Trevor is like," she said.
I grimaced and said, "He argues with Chip, who lives next door to him, all the time. It doesn't matter what the season is. They argue about the property line in the summer when they're mowing their lawns. They argue about the property line in the winter when they're shoveling the sidewalk." I leaned in. "One time I saw Chip blowing his leaves into Trevor's yard. That one was a huge fight."
I didn't see Sandra, Trevor's wife, often, but they had two little boys who played in the front yard on weekends.
"He's rude to everyone," Christine said. "And he treats Sandra like his own personal, verbal punching bag. Plus, I'm sure he's cheated on her. Multiple times."
"And it's been getting worse," Michelle said.
"The cheating?" I asked, not sure how cheating could get worse. I guess doing it more would be worse. If you asked me, once was "worse" enough.
"All of it," Christine said bitterly. "He's a sorry excuse for a husband."
"He's a sorry excuse for a human being," Michelle added.
"Christine and Michelle are close friends with Sandra," Lucille explained to Penny and me.
Michelle went back to applying whatever was in the little bowl at her station to Christine's hair. "And her poor kids," Michelle said.
Christine shook her head. "If he talks to Sandra that way, imagine how he talks to those boys."
"How old are their kids?" I asked. "I've seen them getting on the bus, but I'm really bad at guessing ages."
Lucille had started cutting. I desperately hoped the conversation wasn't going to be too much of a distraction to her. The last thing I needed was a crooked haircut.
"Seven and nine," Michelle said. She applied the last foil to Christine's head. "Those boys do everything right, but Trevor is just as nasty to them as he is to Sandra."
"That's because he's a jerk," Christine said with conviction.
"Someone needs to teach him a lesson," Michelle said.
Christine and Lucille murmured their agreement.
"You know that Dixie Chick's song, 'Goodbye Earl'?" Michelle said. "We need to 'Goodbye Earl' Trevor's butt."
I was familiar with the song. It was about a woman and her friend killing the woman's abusive husband and getting away with it because no one in the town was sad that he was dead. I shot Penny a grimace.
"Don't you worry," Lucille said to me. "Michelle's just blowing off steam. She plans Trevor's murder every time he steps out of line."
"So, pretty often," Michelle said. At least her smile was mischievous instead of murderous.
"What's the plan this week?" Lucille asked.
Christine chuckled. She'd clearly heard of Michelle's murder plans.
Michelle tapped a comb to her chin as she stared at the ceiling in thought. "I think I'd go with stabbing him in the kidney and then shoving an organic apple in his mouth." She paused before saying, "Nah, I did stab in the kidney a few weeks ago. I'd definitely do the apple though," she added.
"She always makes sure the revenge fits the crime," Christine explained to Penny and me.
Suddenly, the organic apple made a lot more sense.
"I'll have to think about it," Michelle said. "I've already murdered him so many ways."
"What we really need to do is convince Sandra to leave him," Christine said. "It's getting worse. I'd hate to see how much worse it could get."
"Besides, I don't think you want to plot someone's murder in front of Gwen," Penny said. "She's practically dating the new police detective."
All three women looked at me like sharks sensing blood in the water. Actually, I couldn't see Lucille, but she'd stopped snipping, which I took as a sign that she was as riveted as Michelle and Christine.
"Practically dating seems like a stretch," I said with a nervous chuckle. "And when does Finn stop being the 'new' police detective? He's been here for almost a year."
"She has a point," Lucille said as she resumed cutting my hair.
"Thank you," I said, giving Penny a pointed look. "Finn's not new to town."
"I meant that Penny's right about you practically dating," Lucille said. "I heard from Margie that the new police detective is smitten with you."
My cheeks flared with heat. I was going to kill Penny. "Back to Trevor," I said.
I felt bad for steering the conversation back to a fake murder plot, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Christine shook her head, the silver foils bouncing around her face. "Sandra's not going to leave Trevor, because she doesn't want the kids to have to be with him half the time without her there as a buffer."
Michelle snorted. "Like he'd want the kids half the time. He doesn't lift a finger to actually care for them now."
"He might file for full custody just to spite Sandra," Lucille said. "I've seen it happen before."
We all sat in silence for a moment. I wasn't sure what the other ladies were feeling, but I was sad for Sandra. She probably felt trapped.
"Well, who gets the kids won't matter if Trevor winds up dead," Michelle said. She turned to me and added, "Figuratively of course." She turned back to Christine. "We'll rinse you out in thirty."
"How do you kill someone figuratively," Penny asked quietly as Michelle left to wash out the bowl she'd been using.
"I think she meant fictionally," I said.
"All done," Lucille said. "Do you want me to dry it?"
"Yes, please," I said. It was really the only way to make sure the cut was straight. I felt bad for doubting Lucille. She was good at her job, despite her own outdated hairstyle. She'd never given me a bad haircut. Maybe it was all the talk of perms and murder that was making me unnecessarily jumpy.
CHAPTER TWO
I saw the fence before I heard the yelling. How in the world had Chip managed to put up a fence in the hours I'd been gone with Penny? I'd left my house that Saturday morning with Trevor's and Chip's lawns semi-happily co-existing. I'd come home to a white picket fence. Normally used as a symbol of small-town Americana, this one seemed to have instigated a war.
I climbed out of the car and stared at the scene before me. Trevor stood on one side of the picket fence, a chainsaw in hand. Chip stood on the other side, plastered up against the fence. If Trevor wanted to use that chainsaw, he was going to have to go through Chip to do it.
"You don't have a permit for this," Trevor yelled. Trevor was tall, and it seemed like he was trying to use every inch he had on Chip to intimidate him. His jet-black hair was slicked back like he was heading into the office, despite it being the weekend.
Trevor was the kind of guy who appeared charming on the surface, but enough of his cruelty leaked through that most people kept their distance. He had a perpetual five o'clock shadow to go with his perfect head of dark hair. If he wasn't such a jerk and you squinted a little, he could pass for Clark Kent, or Superman, although I knew Trevor was no superhero.
"The fence is coming down," Trevor growled at Chip.
"I do have a permit, and if you'll put your chainsaw away, I'll go get it," Chip shouted back. He leaned in, dangerously close to the chainsaw. At least it wasn't on. "I don't have to inform you of what I do on my own property."
"It's not your property," Trevor snapped. "You built it over the line."
The curtains in the front window of Chip's house fluttered, and I thought I saw his wife, Rose, peering through them before they fell back into place. Smart woman. I'd stay far away from this mess too.
"What are you looking at?" Trevor shouted with distain.
I turned to see who he was talking to, but there was no one else on the street. His wife Sandra was nowhere to be found, and the curtains were back in place at Chip's house. I looked back at the men to see them watching me.
My heart gave a little skip before breaking into a full-on gallop. I pointed at myself. "Me?" I asked, still looking around for someone else to have drawn Trevor's ire.
