Violet Tendencies, page 13
part #2 of Rose City Mystery Series
I wanted to get back to the topic of my aunt, but I knew from Nora’s expectant gaze that I had to try the cake first. My fork cut through the fluffy pink buttercream. I took a bite and was greeted by an unusual yet delightful flavor. The sweet strawberries mingled with hints of rose and the flavor was balanced by a savory finish of basil. “This is amazing,” I said through a mouthful.
Nora kicked her ankle-high black booties onto a chair and clapped. “Rockin’, isn’t it? The pastry shop that I wholesale from baked an entire line of desserts for Rose Festival. I told them they had better bring me double tomorrow, because with the crowds in the village I’m not going to be able to keep anything in the case.”
She tossed Sticks another biscuit. “Speaking of romance. How is Mr. Suit?”
Mr. Suit was Nora’s semi-affectionate nickname for Pete. She was convinced that Pete had a secret inner-rocker streak. But then again, Nora was sure that everyone was a closet rock-and-roll lover. I had tried to tell her that classical music was my style, but she refused to listen.
“He was in here asking about you. Wondering why Blomma was closed and whether you were going to be around soon.” Nora gave me a knowing look.
I felt a blush creep up my neck. “Yeah. I saw him.”
“And?” She leaned closer. “Dish, girl. You can’t leave me hanging like that.”
“There’s nothing to tell. He’s really hard to read.”
She waved me off. “Please, honey. There’s nothing hard to read about Mr. Suit. He’s totally into you, and if you can get him to loosen up, I guarantee you that he’s all rock and roll under that buttoned-up shirt and tie. I see it every day.”
Nora catered to Portland’s business crowd. Demitasse served artisan coffee and pastries. She played classical music overhead, with one unique twist. All of the songs were actually rock-and-roll favorites, like AC/DC’s “You Shook Me all Night Long,” played on the cello. Nora claimed that her business clientele were lawyers and doctors by day and rockers by night. One of her daily customers apparently had tattooed every inch of his body, except for his hands and neck. He wore a suit to cover up any evidence of his “inner rocker,” as Nora called it. Pete’s tiny tattoo on his forearm didn’t exactly qualify, but I enjoyed Nora’s carefree attitude and insistence that everyone could rock if they wanted to.
I savored another bite and steered the conversation back to Elin. “What happened between Eric and Elin was years ago. Why would he think that I would harbor a grudge? If Elin has forgiven him, I do too. Plus, I can hardly judge him. I didn’t make the wisest choices in my twenties. Think of the years I wasted with Chad. Maybe this is how their love story was supposed to play out. They spent years apart, growing, creating independent lives, only to come together now. Isn’t love sometimes about timing?”
“You are wise beyond your years, Britta.” Nora snapped at Sticks to stop licking the floor.
I took a sip of the espresso, tasting buttery notes. “This is just what the doctor ordered.”
“We heard about the incident this morning. Your aunt said that you found the body?”
I had almost momentarily forgotten about Sham’s murder. “Yeah.”
“Was it terrible?”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t think of more to say. No words did justice to seeing death firsthand.
“I’m sorry, honey. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I told Elin that I’m a terrible designer, but I’ll put my coffee hands to work however you might need.”
“Actually, I might have to take you up on that.” I told her about how Elin was planning to bring Eric to work on the float. Then I polished off the rest of the rose basil cake.
“Count me in. I’ll drag Jon over too.”
Jon owned Torch, the candle shop, across the street from Blomma. He, Elin, and Nora were a fierce threesome. They sent customers to each other’s shops, and filled in whenever and wherever necessary. I loved the community spirit in Riverplace Village. “Great. Maybe we can boot Elin out of the barn and send her and Eric on a romantic date.”
Nora fist-pumped me. “Consider it done.” She scooped Sticks onto her lap. They looked like quite the pair, with Sticks’s leather collar and Nora’s leather boots. “And, girl, I want an update on Mr. Suit. Deal?”
“I can’t promise there’s going to be anything to update you on, but deal.” I thanked her for the cake and left with my coffee. The paper mug warmed my hands as I headed for the bridge. The rain had stopped and a sliver of sun poked out from behind the clouds. I was about to cross up toward the Hawthorne when I spotted Priscilla sitting on a bench that looked out onto the Willamette River. A blood-red umbrella rested by her feet and she had her face buried in her hands.
Was she crying?
Without thinking, I walked straight to her and asked, “Priscilla, is everything okay?”
Priscilla snapped her head in my direction. She was still wearing her tiara. Her eyes were bloodshot, with huge puffy circles beneath them. She had laid a plastic poncho on the damp bench to protect her dress. “What do you want?”
The sun glinted on her tiara. I had to shield my eyes. “I just wondered if everything was okay. You look like you’re upset.”
“What are you talking about?” She brushed a tiny wet leaf from the bench. “You asked me that earlier and I told you I was fine. I’m still fine. Why do you keep asking me?”
“I guess because I’m upset. I think everyone involved with Rose Festival is upset. Sham’s murder has us all on edge.”
She frowned. “Why? He was a menace. There are proper channels to get things done in a civilized society. I have no respect for someone who smashes windows and vandalizes mom-and-pop shops. For what? What kind of a statement is that? Sham should have known better.”
“I agree, but he didn’t deserve to die.”
Priscilla didn’t respond. She simply shrugged and flicked another leaf off the bench. “I had forgotten how horrendous Portland is in the spring. My allergies are killing me.” She reached into her purse and removed a package of expensive tissues. Then she dabbed the corner of her eyes. “I’ve been miserable since the moment my plane landed. People think that LA is smoggy, but so what. I can deal with that, but the pollen here is like soup. I don’t know how I’m going to manage to keep my composure in the parade tomorrow if my nose is running and my eyes are watering. It’s not very regal.”
I was surprised that her allergies were flaring up in the rain. Although Portland was notorious for its spring allergy season. One of the gifts of living through dreary wet winters were the flowers and trees that burst to life in springtime. Unless you suffered from allergies. For weeks in the spring, pollen fell like snow. During the height of the blooming season, thick, yellow pollen coated cars and sidewalks. Puffy, marshmallow tufts of pollen floated through the air and gathered in dense clumps on street corners. I was fortunate. I had never suffered from allergies, but I knew that some Portlanders had to take drastic measures—like leaving town—once the trees began to bud.
Was Priscilla really suffering from allergies, or was she lying? She didn’t appear to be shaken up about Sham’s death, but then again, her icy exterior didn’t give much away.
Priscilla folded her tissue and placed it back in her purse. She stood. “I’m due to meet the princesses for high tea.”
“Enjoy.” I kept my tone light.
She gave me a strange look and then clicked away on her heels. There was no reason not to believe her, but I didn’t trust her. I couldn’t imagine what motive she would have to kill Sham, other than maintaining a certain level of posh exclusivity with the festival. Yet, her tears seemed like more than just allergies. When I got back to the float barn, I would have to ask Gloria more about the former Rose Festival Queen. Could she have fled to LA for other reasons? Maybe she’d left skeletons in her Portland closet, and being back again had opened up her past.
Chapter Fourteen
“Britta, welcome back. What do you think?” Gloria asked when I returned. She and the other volunteers had finished three trees. They stood nearly twenty feet tall from the base of the float. Draped in greenery and budding with colorful Japanese maple leaves, it looked like a scene from a fairy tale.
“Amazing. I love them!” I walked around the float to admire it from every angle. Talk about happy accidents. The float had turned out even better than our original sketches.
“There’s good news and bad news.” Gloria pointed to the float. “Which do you want first?”
“I’ll take the good.”
“The police have finished their investigation and given us permission to start working on the float again.”
“That’s great news.” I realized the yellow evidence markers had been removed. “What’s the bad news?”
“We have five more trees to construct, position, and secure on the float, and then only a few hundred strands of violet garlands to create.”
“Only?”
I wasn’t immune to hard work or long hours. If I had to stay through the night and the next night too, I would.
“Is there anything else you want us to add to the trees before we start trying to haul them up onto the float? We’re in the zone here with tree construction, so if it’s okay with you, I’d like to get these done before we move on to anything else.” Gloria clutched a pair of shears.
“You’re the boss.” I grinned. “But no, I think they’re good to go. And I don’t want you doing that work. I’ll climb up on the scaffolding when we get to that point.”
“My creaky knees thank you for that.” Gloria smiled. She and the crew of volunteers continued bundling the trees. Since everyone was occupied and there wasn’t anything for me to do, I decided to go see if I could get a peek inside the adjacent warehouse. Maybe Nicki had stashed the envelope somewhere. She acted strange every time she went back and forth between the float barn and warehouse, constantly warning me to keep out. I had assumed that was because she took her responsibility seriously and was concerned that one of the volunteers might accidentally damage the carnival equipment. But what if I was wrong? Maybe Nicki didn’t want anyone going into the warehouse, because she was hiding evidence.
A heavy steel door had a sign posted that read: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Did I count as authorized personnel? Probably not, but I turned the cold handle anyway. To my surprise, the door opened.
The warehouse was pitch-black and freezing cold. Keeping a hand on the wall, I fumbled along it until I found a light switch. I flipped on the lights. They slowly hummed to life. A low buzzing sounded from the warming lights. I hoped that it wasn’t loud enough to arouse suspicion, but then again, the main warehouse was a frenzy of activity. No one would notice the sound of industrial lights, right?
Right, Britta.
My eyes adjusted to the dim light. There were huge wooden crates stamped with the carnival company’s logo, a disassembled Ferris wheel, and dozens of carnival rides. I walked around the carnival equipment, noting boxes of giant stuffed animals and dismantled arcade games.
Where would Nicki have hidden an envelope? The space was massive. Cardboard boxes and plastic storage tubs stretched the entire length of one wall. This was going to be impossible. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
I did find the buckets of black dahlias. They were sitting next to something covered with a large blue tarp the size of Elin’s Jeep. Without considering the consequences, I walked toward the tarp. Whatever was underneath was big. Really big. Like the size of a float.
Just as I started to lift one edge of the tarp, the steel door thudded behind me. I dropped the plastic tarp and ducked behind whatever was underneath it.
“How did these get turned on?” Nicki’s voice echoed through the cavernous space.
My stomach flopped. Had she seen me? How was I going to talk my way out of this one?
I glanced around. Was she headed toward me? There was another exit about two hundred feet away. If I was quiet and careful I could probably reach it without her seeing me. Of course any sound I made would be impossible to mask in the empty space.
I kept my body low and inched toward a crate. The sound of Nicki’s feet tapping on the floor made the hair on the back of my arms stand at attention. There was something ominous about the way she kept stopping abruptly. I had a feeling she was checking each area to see if someone was hiding out.
I needed to get out of here—now.
The warehouse smelled rusty, like the weathered rides had been subjected to years and years of rain.
I raced toward a Tilt-A-Whirl and waited, breathless, until I saw Nicki’s backside. She was looking inside one of the crates. I tiptoed toward the exit door.
Please let it be unlocked.
My hand clutched the door. At first it wouldn’t turn. Panic pulsed through me. What was I going to do? Nicki would surely find me. How was I going to explain this? She had already caught me digging through her purse. If she was the killer, there was no chance she would let me go this time.
I tried again. The door swung open. I ran outside and headed straight for a clump of spiny bushes clustered together on the waterfront path. I landed hard on the dirt, leaping behind the spiky bush just as Nicki stepped outside.
Thorns dug into my hands. I didn’t even care.
The next thing I knew, Nicki twisted her head from side to side. “Who’s there? I know someone’s out here!”
I gulped. A cut on my hand started to bleed. Don’t move, Britta.
“Zigs, is that you?” Nicki kept glancing in every direction. I prayed that I was hidden well enough in the bushes. I could make out Nicki through a small gap in the bushes. Did that mean she could see me too?
“Zigs, I told you to stay away! You step one foot on this property and I’m calling the cops.” Nicki waited for a minute and then returned inside. She slammed the warehouse door shut.
That was close. Way too close.
Zigs? Nicki thought I might have been Zigs. My God, was my far-fetched theory right? Were Nicki and Zigs working together? And if so, what were they hiding under the tarp? A giant bomb?
Everything about this day was getting weirder by the moment. What was Nicki hiding in the warehouse? Why was she adamant that no one could go in there? And why did she think Zigs had been in the bushes?
“Britta? This is getting ridiculous.” I heard a familiar voice. “What are you doing in the bushes?”
Uh-oh! I looked up to see Pete Fletcher staring at me.
He extended a hand. “Want some help up?” His crisp white shirt brought out flaxen tones in his eyes.
My cheeks flamed with heat. “Thanks.”
I let Pete help me to my feet and then pulled a thorn from my palm. Blood trickled down my hand, staining my jeans.
“You’re hurt?” Pete reached for my hand. The twinkle in his eyes disappeared and was quickly replaced by a look of concern.
“It’s nothing. Just a scratch. I landed wrong. That’s all.” I pointed to the thorny bushes.
He caressed my wrist. “You need to get that cleaned. I have a first aid kit in my car. Come on.”
“Really. It’s no big deal. I’m fine.” I didn’t want to have to explain that I had been snooping. Given the weird and ever-changing energy between us, I had a feeling Pete wasn’t going to be thrilled to hear that I was meddling in his investigation.
He took me to his squad car without saying a word. I could tell that he wasn’t happy to have found me hiding the bushes. His touch was gentle as he dabbed my palm with rubbing alcohol and covered the cut with a bandage. He gave me a quizzical look. “Now, do you want to tell me what you were doing in the bushes, or am I going to have to interrogate you?”
Recounting my snooping made me feel even more sheepish. Pete listened with a half smirk at first. He made a few notes in his spiral notebook. “Thanks for the intel. I’ll have my team check it out, but, Britta, I don’t want to have to remind you again that this is a dangerous situation. Please don’t get yourself in the middle of it. I know that Sham wasn’t exactly an upstanding member of the community, but he was brutally murdered. There is a killer among us and I don’t want you involved. Got it?”
“Got it.” I nodded. Thankfully, Pete didn’t seem as angry as I thought he might be. Then I decided to share my theory that Nicki and Zigs were hiding a bomb in the warehouse.
Pete’s jaw tightened as I spoke, filling him in on how skittish Nicki had been about locking the warehouse. When I finished, he frowned. “Listen, Britta. This is off the record. We’re working some intel about potential explosive devices. This is not public information, understood?”
I nodded.
“I’ll relay this to the team, although given the thorough sweeps they did last night and this morning, it’s doubtful there’s an explosive on-site here, but we’re at a high threat level at the moment. We’re not sharing that information with the general public and I’m not sharing it with you to freak you out, but I want to reiterate how important it is that you stay out of this, okay?”
I couldn’t think of a worthy response, so I nodded again.
“Good.” He closed the notebook. “Now, on to better topics. About our dinner date. Do you have plans tonight?”
More heat crept up my neck. “No.”
“Excellent. Would you care to join me at the Riverplace Inn, at seven? It just so happens that the fire chief offered me a window table for the show tonight. Apparently, it’s quite a production. The fireboats put on a water show on the Willamette, followed by a display of actual fireworks.”
“That sounds great.”
He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “I need to get back to work. Meet you there at seven?”
“Sounds great,” I repeated. Pete had a knack for making me lose my ability to formulate a complete sentence.
“See you then.” He sauntered away.
I heeded his advice. Pete had confirmed my worst fears—there was a bomb threat. Regardless of how much I wanted to know and help figure out who had killed Sham, I didn’t want to have any involvement with a potential explosion.
