Violet Tendencies, page 18
part #2 of Rose City Mystery Series
When we finally made it back to the float barn at the end of the parade route, I heaved a sigh of relief. We had done it. We had successfully completed our first float, and the parade had been without any drama. Thank goodness.
Ted leapt onto a stack of pallets. “Attention, attention, everyone, please gather round. We are going to crown some winners in just a moment.” He held a bullhorn with one hand and directed Nicki, who was arranging gold trophies in the shape of a bouquet of roses on a folding table next to him, with the other. “If I can have the float designers gather here in front of me,” Ted continued, motioning for Elin and me to come forward.
We made our way to the front. A flutter of nerves danced in my stomach. It didn’t matter if Blomma won an award. I was content with the fact that we had a float in the parade, but winning any award would be great for the shop. I wanted it for Elin.
“Ladies and gentlemen, first and foremost, let me congratulate you on a successful Rose Festival.” Ted applauded us. “As you know, this was a challenging and trying festival, but because of you, Portland bloomed like a beautiful rose this morning. Without your hard work and tireless effort there wouldn’t have been a parade.” He paused and clutched his heart for dramatic effect. “This is why we do what we do, for the love of our Rose City. I made it my personal mission to see that Dark Fusion didn’t rain on our parade.”
What did that mean? I watched Nicki shoot Ted a look of disgust and roll her eyes. A handful of people cheered.
Ted encouraged them. “That’s right. Feel free to celebrate that! No anarchist group is going to rain on us. Now, I can’t take credit for Mother Nature, but I will tell you I put in a special request for a rain-free Saturday and she heard my prayers. What a morning! What a parade!”
Everyone clapped and cheered. Something about Ted’s smug smile made my stomach flutter again. Had he just admitted that he had killed Sham to ensure his precious parade would go on as planned?
“On to the good stuff.” Ted nodded to Nicki. She handed him the first golden trophy. “We’ve tallied the judge’s votes as well as the ballots from the people’s choice, and I must say that this is one of the tightest competitions we’ve seen in recent years. The overall winner received two—that’s right, two—more votes than second place. What that tells me is that we had some stellar floats and designs this year.”
Elin crossed her fingers.
“Our first awards go to craftsmanship, depiction of whimsy, and life in Oregon.” Ted waited while Nicki handed him two more trophies. “This year’s craftsmanship award goes to the team from the credit union with their elaborate and frankly slightly terrifying dragon!”
We hugged our fellow designers before they went to retrieve their award. I wasn’t surprised that our neighboring float had won. Their dragon with its twelve-foot body and six-foot flames had definitely been a structural feat. Ted went on to name two more designers. I clapped enthusiastically along with the crowd.
Nicki removed the award for most outstanding. Ted posed for pictures with the winners. I could feel the anticipation building. He cleared his throat. “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The awards for most outstanding and people’s choice. We have a unique situation this year. This has only happened three times since I’ve been the grand marshal of the Grand Floral Parade. The winner for most outstanding and people’s choice is one in the same.”
I could tell that he was enjoying dragging out the process of revealing the winners.
“This year the winner of the people’s choice and most outstanding is . . .”
The float barn went silent. I realized that my palms were sweaty. You’re being silly, Britta. I brushed my hands on my skirt.
“Blomma!” Ted boomed.
Elin squealed. She threw her arms around me. “Did he say Blomma? Am I hearing that right?”
“He said Blomma.” I pointed to Ted, who was waving for Elin to join him on the makeshift stage. “We won. Get up there.” I nudged her toward the pallets. She looked genuinely shocked and humbled as Ted handed her not one but two golden trophies. No one deserved this level of recognition more than my aunt. Happy tears welled in my eyes as I watched her pose with Ted, and then immediately get swept up in celebratory hugs by the room of highly skilled designers. Winning both awards was the ultimate form of praise. Our peers and the public had bestowed the parade’s highest honor on Blomma. I couldn’t believe it.
Ted finished his presentation with a final bow. “Let me once again impart my thanks for making this a fantastic year. I know I’ll see some of you at the dignitaries’ dinner later this evening, and I hope you’ll consider helping with the teardown process tonight. It’s always quite a hoot. Some of you may have heard that this is my final parade. I’m hanging up my gardening shears and handing over my cape. It’s been a great pleasure serving you and the Rose City.”
A murmur went through the crowd.
“Please, please, no applause. I do this for you.” Ted gave his cape a flourish. “Now let’s break out the champagne.”
The float barn was raucous. It felt like the locker room after a Super Bowl victory. Volunteers and designers who had worked countless hours preparing for the parade cracked open bottles of champagne and sparkling cider. People congratulated us and the other winners. I felt like I was floating in a rose-scented dream. Elin and I posed for pictures in front of the floats, which would be dismantled within the next few days. We toasted with glasses of bubbly.
Eric arrived with an overflowing bouquet of Deep Secret roses for Elin. I knew the dark-chocolatey rose was their special flower. “Rumor has it that I’m in the presence of winners.” He offered her the bouquet. “I hope you’ll let a non-flower guy like me hang around.”
Elin cradled the roses. “Can you believe that we won? I’m in shock. I didn’t see it coming.”
Eric rolled his eyes. “Can I believe that you won? Of course.” He gave Elin a look as if to say Could there be any other outcome? and then pulled a sweet bouquet of Stargazer lilies from behind his back. “For you, Britta.”
“Thank you. That was thoughtful.”
He winked. “It’s a bribe. Now that you two have been crowned the rose queens of Portland, I’ve got to find a way to stay relevant.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem.” I nodded to my aunt, who planted a kiss on his cheek. I left them as everyone gathered around to be introduced to her paramour.
My thoughts returned to Priscilla. Overnight I had formed a new theory. What if Priscilla knew about the article? She must have remembered Gloria from years past. If she didn’t want anyone to learn that Sham was her ex-boyfriend, had she killed him and then attempted to kill Gloria in order to keep it quiet? Sure, in some ways it sounded far-fetched that a well-respected businesswoman would go to such extremes, but then again, I had seen how intense Priscilla was about reputation.
I tucked Eric’s gift of lilies in a bucket of water in the pigpen. He had chosen glorious stems that had obviously been arranged by a master floral designer. Lilies are one of the most fragrant flowers and can add height and drama to a bouquet. However, they produce a sticky yellow pollen on their anthers that can get everywhere. There’s nothing worse than setting a lovely centerpiece on a dining room table, only to have everything coated in pollen dust. Whoever had created this bouquet had gently removed and discarded the anthers while keeping the delicate pink-and-white petals intact. Eric scored bonus points for purchasing artisan flowers rather than grabbing a stale, lifeless arrangement at the grocery store.
Next I went in search of Priscilla. I found her talking with a local reporter. She looked the part of a queen in her sparkling white ball gown that was darted in at her narrow waist and layered with fine tulle. Red rose-shaped rhinestones had been glued onto the tulle, making the dress shimmer with every movement. She wore yet another tiara and a silky red queen’s sash. “This is the crème-de-la-crème of princesses,” she said, holding a glass of champagne. “I was thrilled to be a part of this year’s parade, and help instruct them on their very bright futures.”
The reporter took notes. Priscilla sipped her drink with her pinky in the air.
When they finished the interview, I took the chance to confront her.
“Priscilla, do you have a minute?” I asked.
She snapped her head in my direction. “Sorry. I’m simply swamped with press interviews.”
“It’s about Sham.”
A momentary flash of concern made the tiny creases around her eyes twitch. “What about him?”
I stepped closer. “I know about your history. You two used to date, didn’t you?”
Priscilla’s face went as white as the layers of tulle on her dress. She glanced around us. “Not here. Let’s go outside.” She handed her champagne glass to one of the princesses and made a beeline for the exit.
I practically had to sprint to catch up to her.
She stopped near the edge of the pathway. “How did you figure that out?” She fiddled with her sash, not meeting my eyes.
“I found an old article from the newspaper. It wasn’t that hard.”
Priscilla frowned. “Why were you looking at old papers?”
I didn’t want to put Gloria in harm’s way, so I lied. “For our display at Blomma. We were going to do a Rose Festival bouquet from each decade for our front window. I was looking at past years for inspiration.”
She seemed to buy my story.
“You didn’t want anyone to know, did you?” I paused for a moment. How smart was it to confront Priscilla? If you’re going to do it, this is the place, Britta. There were people milling all around us. What could she do? Toss me off the side of the ledge, down into the Willamette? Maybe.
I pretended to pick a leaf from an oak tree and moved away from the edge of the path. “If people learned that you and Sham used to date, it would ruin your reputation, and you couldn’t let that happen, could you?”
Priscilla started at me. “What?”
A clown wearing giant boat shoes and a floppy hat sped past us on a unicycle. High school cheerleaders danced in the parking lot and tossed their pom-poms around. Dignitaries and the princesses posed for pictures with fans, as more and more of the parade participants returned to the float barn.
“You killed him, didn’t you?” I had found my stride and wasn’t about to stop now.
“What?” She looked dumbfounded. “No. What are you talking about?”
“Sham, you killed him. I’ve heard how uptight you are about personal reputation with the princesses. Dating an anarchist certainly would damage your perfect reputation. If people found out that your high school boyfriend was an anarchist, that wouldn’t look good for you or for Juvenescent, would it?”
To my surprise, huge tears welled in her eyes. She started to sob. I wasn’t sure what to do.
After a few minutes, she gathered herself, and reached into her bosom and pulled out a tissue. “You have it all wrong. I loved Sham.”
Now it was my turn to look dumbfounded.
“Not anymore, of course. I’m happily married,” she continued. “I’m quite content with my SoCal lifestyle, and you’re right, I have been trying to impart the importance of protecting your image and reputation with the princesses, but not because I was worried about my past. Because they’re growing up in a digital era, and I’ve seen how quickly you can ruin your future by sending an inappropriate text. These girls are dealing with a brave new world of technology that comes with wonderful rewards and long-term consequences. I’ve been trying to explain to them how important it is to craft the right kind of appearance online. As in not texting naked pictures or posting drunk pictures on their social media.”
She sounded sincere.
“In fact, Sham and I met for a drink the night before he was killed and were reminiscing about some of the crazy adventures we had had together and how lucky we were that social media didn’t exist back then. That’s what I’ve been telling the girls. We all make stupid mistakes and do stupid things in our youth. That’s part of growing up, but I’ve been reminding them that their digital footprint lives forever. If they document their mistakes it could impact their ability to get into college or secure jobs in the future.”
She had a valid point.
Her eyes misted. “Sham and I had amazing years together back in the day. We were just kids when we dated. Seeing him again brought back many memories from my youth. Happy memories. My husband knows about Sham. I have nothing to hide. I promise you that he was a link to my past. I would never have killed him, and yes, I care about Juvenescent and my reputation as a businesswoman, but the fact that my high school boyfriend lived an alternate lifestyle certainly wouldn’t impact sales of our skin care line.”
That was yet another valid point.
“When Sham and I met the other night, he shared that he had some serious regrets about the direction that Dark Fusion has taken. When he started the group years ago, it was a way to give voice to underrepresented populations in the city. Sham didn’t like big money or corporations, but he wasn’t violent.”
“Really. What else did he say?”
“Not much. He said he had a plan to make big changes. He was going to meet with Gloria and Nicki. He said something about the truth coming out.”
“What does that mean?”
Priscilla shrugged. “I wish I knew. He was killed the next morning.” She started to tear up again. She glanced at the expensive watch on her wrist. “I need to go. I’m due to take the princesses to brunch.”
She returned to the float barn, fluffy layers of her dress trailing behind her. I stood near the pathway in stunned silence. I had been so sure that Priscilla was the killer, but she sounded genuinely upset about Sham’s death. Why was Sham meeting with Gloria and Nicki? And what did he mean that the truth would come out? I massaged my temples. There was a chance that Priscilla was lying to protect herself, but I was fairly confident she was being honest. Now more than ever, I had to talk to Gloria. She seemed to be the key to the case. I just hoped that she was recovering and able to have visitors.
Chapter Twenty-one
As soon as I could find a clear path through the celebratory crowds, I hoofed it to Blomma and wrapped a cluster of daisies in butcher paper, tied them with twine, and tucked them under my arm. Then I went straight to the sky tram. Now that the smoke had cleared, the aerial view of the blast-zone damage took my breath away. I placed my hand on my stomach as I thought about the displaced families, sorting through the charred remains of what had once been a quaint collection of cottages. Poor Gloria.
This time the receptionist at the nurses’ station allowed me to see Gloria. I tapped quietly on her door.
A weak voice answered, “Come in.”
“Gloria, how are you?” I entered the room to find her tucked under the covers in the hospital bed. Her skin was ashen. She looked frail and small. “These are for you.” I set the daisies on her nightstand and sat in a plush chair next to the bed.
“They’re lovely.” She managed to give me a faint smile.
“Tell me what happened. Were you injured?”
Her eyes were dull. “No. I had made a pot of tea and curled up with a mystery when I began smelling gas. I thought I had left the stove on, but when I went to check, it was off. The smell of gas knocked me off my feet. I don’t know what happened, but the next thing I remember I woke up here.”
I could tell from the way she kept wincing that it was hard to speak.
“Are you in pain? Is there anything I can get you?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s hard to find my breath. The police said that the gas line attached to my cottage had been rerouted into my kitchen. If one of the neighbors hadn’t called 911, I wouldn’t be here.”
I reached for her hand. It was clammy and cool to the touch. “I’m so glad they got you out.”
Her curly white hair was tousled, her hospital gown wrinkled. I wondered how much sleep, if any, she had gotten since being admitted. “Who would do such a thing, Britta? I’ve never had an enemy. I’m a little old lady who loves flowers.”
“I don’t know, but I know that the police are working every angle. There has to be a connection with Dark Fusion.” I paused while Gloria shifted position in the bed. “Thank you for loaning me your scrapbooks. I might have found something in them. Did you know that Priscilla and Sham dated in high school?”
Gloria’s glossy eyes widened. “Queen Priscilla?”
“Yeah. Can you believe it? I found a newspaper article. He was her date to the coronation.”
“I had no idea they were high school sweethearts, but now that you mention it, there was something slightly familiar about Sham, but I never put two and two together.” Gloria tried to reach for a water cup.
“Here, let me get that.” I handed her the cup, and tilted the straw so it would be easier for her to drink. “I asked Priscilla about it after the parade this morning, and she told me that she had a special place in her heart for him.”
“Oh, the parade.” Gloria clutched her chest. “Please tell me about it. This is the first parade I’ve missed in thirty years.”
I wanted to ask her about the meeting she and Nicki had had with Sham, but I couldn’t deny her request. She listened with rapture, asking for every detail about the processional, weather, and crowds.
“It sounds wonderful,” she said with a wheeze that sent her into a coughing fit. She hacked so hard it made my chest hurt.
“Should I call the nurse?”
She waved me off. “Give me a minute.” Her voice quaked. “The doctor said this would happen for a while. They’re sending me to a respiratory therapist later.”
I felt terrible for her. “I should let you rest.”
She reached for my arm. “No. There’s something you should know.”
I waited for her to clear her throat.
“It’s about Sham. He wasn’t what everyone thought he was. Now that I think about it, it makes sense that he and Priscilla knew each other years ago. He came to Nicki and me and asked for our help in a secret mission.”
