Violet Tendencies, page 10
part #2 of Rose City Mystery Series
Why did he have the ability to make me weak in the knees with one look? Tomo was right, Pete was impossible to read. Last night he had sent me away without a word, and now he seemed to be flirting again.
He removed a notebook from his suit jacket. “I hate to ruin your morning, but I’m going to need to get an official statement, Britta.”
Elin stepped away. “Of course. You go. I’ll wait here.” Then she stopped Pete. “Is there any update on the parade?”
He lowered his voice. “Not officially, but I will tell you that we are doing everything in our power to get the crime scene tightened up and documented as quickly as possible. We don’t want to have to call off the parade, but I do need to warn you that since the victim’s body was found near the Blomma float, and due to the damage your float incurred, I can’t guarantee that you’ll be allowed to continue working anytime soon. Full disclosure: Depending on how long our investigation takes, your float might not be accessible at all.”
“I understand,” Elin replied. I knew what she was thinking. Hours and hours of hard work, potentially wasted. I felt terrible. Sham was dead. That should be the only thing that mattered. Maybe Nicki wasn’t so far off base after all. The thought of the parade continuing without our float was a major blow.
“I really am sorry, Britta. You know if there was anything I could do to speed things up, I would.” He strummed his fingers on his reddish stubble. I got the sense that he wanted to say more, but was holding back.
“Yeah, I get it.” I didn’t trust myself to speak more.
Pete got torn away from our conversation by a police officer. I tried to disguise my disappointment. If Pete was right, Blomma had just lost our chance to shine.
Chapter Eleven
The police worked in record time while Zigs led his crew of anarchists in mounting howls. Their chants grew more urgent and disorganized, almost like an outward expression of their grief over losing their leader. It was impossible to think. I tried to ignore their bellows and insults. Everyone did. Volunteers huddled together near the entrance to the float barn, safely behind a line of police officers responsible for securing the scene. Fog hung low on the river, shrouding the rioters in a thin veil of mist.
Zigs raced from one side of the group to the next, riling up the crowd. His hands flew in the air. “They killed Sham!” He sounded frenzied, almost manic. “He’s been murdered by fascists! Now the fascists must die!”
The rioters roared in response.
“Get out your helmets and gas masks! We’re going to war! We are the new face of activism! This is a revolution. We will weaponize! We will take up arms. For Sham! For all the disenfranchised people living on the streets!” He paused and spiked up his mohawk.
A volunteer standing next to me tapped one of the police officers on the shoulder. “Why aren’t you doing anything? They’re going to attack us!”
The officer who was outfitted in riot gear tried to calm her. “Ma’am, trust me, you don’t want us to intervene at the moment. They want us to initiate a fight and the minute we do, we jeopardize your safety.”
She wasn’t satisfied with his answer. “So, you’re just going to let them take over our streets?”
He held his police baton at the ready. “No. We have a specific tactical plan to follow in situations like this. Dark Fusion might look unorganized, but they aren’t. They train their members in first aid and self-defense in anticipation of hand-to-hand combat. They are taught to take an offensive stance. These aren’t peaceful protesters—their entire goal is political violence.”
Zigs continued to fire up his followers. “We will never bow down to a single fascist, we will never bow to a cop in a uniform.” He flung his skinny arm toward the police. “We will destroy the status quo by any means necessary.”
I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets. When would this ever end? And worse, how would it end? The police were in an impossible situation. I understood why they were waiting it out. If they began trying to move the group off the pathway or attempted to make an arrest, there was no doubt in my mind that Dark Fusion would react, putting all of us right in the middle of a war zone.
I wished there was something I could do. Instead I waited, along with the rest of the volunteers, in a weird limbo. When the coroner wheeled Sham’s body out of the warehouse, wails and profanity sounded from the protesters. I wondered if this would be the point that would send them over the edge, but nothing changed.
Detective Fletcher emerged not long after, looking haggard. His charcoal-gray suit jacket was slung over one arm. The other held a bullhorn. He commanded silence as he put the bullhorn to his lips. To my surprise, even Dark Fusion quieted.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve concluded our initial sweep and will be allowing you inside the float barn, under police escort. Once inside, we ask that you stay in your assigned area. Keep clear of the crime scene.”
“What about the parade?” someone shouted. “Will it go on?”
One of the rioters responded before Pete. “It’s going down in flames, you corporate fascists!”
Pete ignored the comment and addressed the volunteers. “Our investigation shouldn’t change the parade. Teams will be interviewing you, and your help is going to be essential. If anyone witnessed anything you think could be connected or of any significance, we ask that you come forward immediately.”
He cleared his throat. “At this point there’s no reason that the Grand Floral Parade won’t proceed; however, some floats have been impacted. Our team will advise you on whether you’re able to access your entire float, and of areas that are currently off limits. We understand that you’re under a tight time limit and will do our best to make what accommodations we can. Thank you.”
Zigs stuck two fingers in his lips and whistled. “You heard him. The parade is on. You know what you need to do. Let’s roll out! For Sham! Let’s do this for Sham!”
“For Sham!” they shouted in unison.
Drums thudded as they marched down the pathway toward the Hawthorne Bridge. What were they planning? I didn’t like the sound of Zigs’s words or how quickly the members of Dark Fusion fell into line behind him.
It was looking more and more like Tomo had been right.
As Dark Fusion marched out of sight, Priscilla rounded the corner. She wore an ankle-length red ball gown, her tiara, and a white sash that read: QUEEN. An entourage of princesses in tea-length matching red dresses huddled together at the end of the float barn, near where I had found the firecrackers last night. Priscilla swept over to them, I guessed to reprimand them about the way they were carrying themselves.
However, she fell to her knees after one of the princesses said something and pointed inside.
What was that about?
Without thinking, I headed straight for her. Other volunteers had begun to stream into the float barn, under the watchful eye of Detective Fletcher’s team. I moved against the tide, relieved to have something to focus on.
Priscilla had regained her composure by the time I made it through the crowd. She smoothed out her dress and adjusted her sash.
“This is crazy, isn’t it?” I had no idea what to say to her, I just knew that I needed to do something, and since I hadn’t yet been formally introduced to the Rose Queen, there was no time like the present.
She curled her upper lip. “Have we met?”
“I’m Britta, one of the float designers.” I pointed toward the float barn.
Priscilla straightened her sash. “Oh. Nice to meet you.” She extended a smooth hand. Her nails were painted in a French manicure with tiny red roses adorning each finger. A massive princess-cut diamond ring devoured her ring finger.
“Did you hear the news?” I felt self-conscious about my appearance as Priscilla stared at me.
She exuded a sense of nobility. “Are you talking about the murder?”
“Yes. It’s terrible, isn’t it?”
Her expression didn’t change, but upon closer inspection I noticed that a single tear had run down the left side of her face, leaving a streak in her perfectly applied makeup. “Terrible?” She sounded detached and disinterested.
“I can’t believe that someone actually died inside.” I felt like I was annoying her.
She stared at her fingernails as she responded. “Wasn’t it one of the anarchists? I say good riddance.”
Did she mean that? An image of Sham’s face flashed in my head. I blinked twice to try to force the picture away.
“What these anarchists don’t understand is that they’ll never succeed in their mission.” Priscilla didn’t make eye contact as she spoke. “There is no place in the Rose Festival or in the business world for their violence. They can scream and shout as much as they like, but they’ll never achieve their goals with their lewd behavior and destruction.”
I was about to point out the fact that Dark Fusion’s intent was exactly that—to cause chaos and try to shake up the status quo—but Ted swept over to us. His cape brushed across my shoulder. “Sorry to barge in, ladies.”
He greeted each of us by kissing our hands. “Wonderful news this morning. Simply wonderful, isn’t it?”
“What?” I wrinkled my forehead. He couldn’t be serious.
“Not about the murder, of course.” He must have read my facial expression because he puffed up his shoulders and tried to appear solemn. “The fact that someone . . .” He trailed off for a moment.
I got the impression that he couldn’t bring himself to say Sham’s name.
He coughed. “That someone was killed is most unfortunate. However, we have a clean slate to work with this morning. The police assure me that the parade will go on as planned, and the long-term forecast is calling for sunny skies on Saturday. I would say that things are coming up roses, aren’t they?” He smiled broadly.
I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Priscilla, might I beg a word?” He gave her a strange look, and then gave me a half bow. “There have been some new parade developments that we must discuss. Please excuse us, Britta.” With that he flung his cape behind him and took Priscilla by the arm.
Obviously he wasn’t the slightest bit shaken about Sham’s murder. My mind immediately flashed to last night. Were Priscilla and Ted sneaking off for a private discussion about the parade, or could they be in it together? What if they had killed Sham? Both of them had longstanding attachments to the Rose Festival. Sham had threatened to ruin everything the festival stood for. Was that motive for murder?
Stop it, Britta. I tapped myself on the thigh. What was wrong with me? I had to stop worrying about who had killed Sham. I needed to leave the investigation to the police. They were the experts, and I had other things to focus on—like our float.
I headed for the entrance, where Tomo spotted me and waved. “Over here, Britta.” Like last night, he wasn’t dressed in uniform, but rather a weathered pair of skinny jeans, intentionally ripped at the knee, and a black flannel shirt. I wondered if his wardrobe consisted of anything other than flannels and skinny jeans. Tomo was a Portlander through and through. He wore his hipster “uniform” with pride.
“Hey, how are things going?” I asked, getting a first glance into the float barn, where dozens of police officers were positioned like guards at each float.
He frowned. “You’re in the clear. I just saw your aunt. She’s on her way to take a look at the damage to your float. Man, I’m sorry to hear that you guys got the worst of it. I don’t know anything about flowers, but if you need help, my fingers are yours.” He wiggled his fingers as an offering.
“Thanks.” I chuckled. “I appreciate it, but I’m sure you have better things to do than snip violets.”
Tomo looked to the left, then right. He motioned for me to come closer and then spoke in a low whisper. I could barely hear him. “Look, Britta, Pete wants me to keep an eye on your float today.”
“Why?” I kept my voice low in response.
“Let’s just say that I’ve been assigned to ‘watch’ you today.”
“Watch me?” I nearly shouted. “You mean as in undercover? Is that why you’re dressed like that?”
Tomo held out both his hands and motioned for me to keep it down.
“Watch me?” I repeated. “Why? Am I in danger?”
“We don’t know yet.” He glanced around us again. Why was he being so cautious? “Look, I’m not supposed to say anything. Detective Fletcher assigned me to stick next to you for the next couple hours.” He paused and checked to make sure no one was listening again. “I’m really not supposed to be telling you this, but they’re looking into one theory—that your float could have been a target. It’s the only float in there that was damaged.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe it. “Why would anyone target us?”
He shrugged. “We don’t know. And like I said, it’s just one of the many theories that are floating around right now. This is how investigations work, especially in the beginning. It’s probably kind of like creating a flower arrangement. You have to stick a bunch of ideas out there and see which one comes together.”
I wasn’t sure there was any connection between murder and flowers, but I waited for him to continue.
“It could be a coincidence, but we can’t rule out the possibility at this point. Can you think of anyone who might have been hanging around your float? Did you see anything suspicious last night when the chaos broke out?”
I’d been so caught up in finding Sham’s body earlier that I hadn’t thought about the fact that our float had been damaged while none of the others had been touched. Was it intentional? Could someone have it in for us? I didn’t want to think so, but when I returned to Portland earlier in the spring, I had learned that Aunt Elin had an archrival. His name was Darren and he owned a gag floral shop—Drop Dead, Gorgeous—that delivered bouquets of dead black roses. He had been leaving black roses on Blomma’s front porch as a way to try to scare Elin after she had made public comments about his tasteless business. Darren had been quiet as of late, but maybe he had been waiting for an opportunity like this. Although he had no connection to the Rose Parade. I hadn’t seen Darren in months. Why would he go silent and then strike now? Or for that matter, how would he have gotten access to the float?
No way, I thought to myself. Strike that theory.
I couldn’t believe that we were the target. What was more likely was that the killer and Sham had had an argument and we were the unlucky site. Maybe the damage our float had incurred had nothing to do with us, and everything to do with Sham. Perhaps the killer ripped everything down in a violent rage.
The thought made me twitch. What if one of us had been there?
“Britta, you good?” Tomo’s calm voice brought me back to reality.
“Yeah. Sorry. Thinking about the . . . the . . . murder.”
He placed a hand on my forearm. “I know. As much as they try to prepare you for the real world at the police academy, it’s impossible.” His eyes glazed. I wondered if he was thinking about his dad.
“Right.”
Tomo held the door open for a group of women wearing matching T-shirts with silhouettes of a wineglass that read: STOP AND SMELL THE ROSÉ.
I smiled at the clever pun, in spite of my fear and the general feeling of unrest.
“I’m going to keep an eye on you,” Tomo assured me as we went inside. “And if you’re stuck with me for a while, you might as well put me to work.”
“Okay.” I was glad that Pete had assigned Tomo to keep watch over us. If we had to have police protection, I was glad it was my friend. We made it to the float. I put my hand to my chest and let out a groan. In my panic earlier, I hadn’t really taken the time to assess how much damage had been done. The entire arbor had been destroyed. Hundreds of shattered branches, twigs, and vines littered the floor.
Elin and Gloria were gathering pieces.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Tomo asked, twisting the black stud in his ear. “Can you salvage anything?”
“I don’t know.” I stared at the fragmented remains of our float. “You should have seen it last night. It looked amazing. We were almost done. Short of stringing up the violets.” The thought of violets sent a shiver down my spine.
Elin held up a snapped bundle of grapevines. “We didn’t know where to start. The police said it was okay to salvage anything that isn’t marked.” She motioned to the team of men and women in blue who were scanning our float for any visible evidence. Yellow markers dotted the floor where Sham’s body had been.
I stood back to study the float. “We’ll never have time to rebuild the arbor. That’s out of the question.”
Tomo frowned. “I don’t know that you’ll be able to get up there, for a while anyway.”
“Right.” Given the swarms of officers and the state of disarray our float was in, I was starting to doubt that we would even be ready in time for Saturday’s parade.
Elin scrunched a bunch of the branches in her hands. It reminded me of a tree in the dead of winter.
“Hey, do that again. Grab more branches,” I said, as an idea began to form.
“What—this?” Elin asked, fanning out the grapevines.
“Yes. What if we tie them together like trees? It won’t be as tall or impressive as our arbor, but we can still create your concept of the first flowers of spring by twisting violet garlands from the roots of the grapevine. Maybe we can glue leaves to the end of each branch? What do you think?”
Gloria cracked her knuckles. “I heard that zoo float has an overstock of Japanese maple leaves. Would those work?”
“Yeah. They would be perfect.” I felt lighter. We could work on building the trees in the pigpen, out of the way of the investigation. They might not have the same architectural effect as our original designs, but we just might be able to pull them together in time for the parade.
“Good idea. The contrast of the vines with the delicate flowers and feathery leaves will work well.” Elin’s face flushed with excitement. “But the challenge will be getting them to stand. There’s not near enough time to build a base, especially since we can’t get on the float at the moment.”
