Violet Tendencies, page 3
part #2 of Rose City Mystery Series
“Thanks.” I appreciated her eye for detail.
“You missed some excitement earlier.” Gloria removed her reading glasses from the bridge of her nose and let them hang loose on a silver chain around her neck. She motioned to the float next to us. It was in the shape of a dragon with a twenty-foot tail and fire shooting from its mouth. I had seen the preliminary sketches and knew that the flames would be made of orange begonias, marigolds, zinnias, and lion’s-tails. I couldn’t wait to see the finished product. The shot of orange against the green and purple body should be quite stunning.
“Trouble with the float?” I asked. A group of volunteers wearing matching name badges were gluing poppy seeds on the dragon’s body. They were joking and laughing as they worked. There didn’t appear to be anything amiss with the float’s structure.
Gloria motioned for me to come closer. She lowered her voice. “No, with Ted Graham.”
I glanced back to the float. Sure enough, Ted was talking to Nicki, the float barn director, near the dragon’s tail. He wasn’t hard to miss in his Royal Rosarian’s white suit and straw hat. The Royal Rosarians were Portland’s official greeters and ambassadors. They marched together in every parade as a symbol of the city’s outstanding character and kindness. Nearly every Portlander could identify Royal Rosarians by their classic suits, red ties, and hats. They also served as hosts for VIPs and dignitaries and represented Portland in parades throughout the world. Ted’s purple cape denoted that he was a member of the executive council. “What happened?” I asked. Neither Ted nor Nicki looked happy.
“One of the volunteers on the Mt. Hood float claimed that she got hit in the head with a pinecone on her way into the barn.” Gloria flicked a seed from her finger. Her hands were marked with age spots and wrinkles.
“By Dark Fusion?”
Gloria nodded. “Ted called the police, but apparently there’s no way to prove it. It’s the volunteer’s word against that entire delinquent gang. Ted and Sham got in a shouting match. Sham swore they didn’t do it. He said that if Dark Fusion takes things to the next level, they won’t be using pinecones.”
“Yikes.” I swallowed hard. This was getting serious. Tomo’s warning repeated in my head. I figured the volunteer incident must have been why Tomo had arrived on the scene.
“Mmm-hmm.” Gloria furrowed her winkled brow. She had a kind face with deep-set brown eyes. “Ted told Sham that if Sham didn’t leave the area within the next twenty-four hours, he’s calling in the National Guard.”
“Can he do that?”
“No. I don’t think so.” Gloria stared at Ted and Nicki. She let out a soft sigh. “Poor Nicki. This is her first year on the job and she’s already been running around in a panic. I think this might push her over the edge.”
Gloria was right. Nicki looked frazzled. She wore a rose-red short-sleeve polo with khaki pants and white tennis shoes. Her auburn hair spilled from a loose ponytail. She had a walkie-talkie in one hand and a clipboard in the other. A set of keys dangled from her back pocket. A black leather purse with a gaudy gold handle hung over one arm. I wasn’t sure if she was agitated by whatever Ted was saying, but she kept bouncing on her feet like she had to go to the bathroom. Then she would dart her eyes toward the front of the warehouse and back to Ted. “She does look kind of jumpy.”
“We can’t exactly blame her, can we?” Gloria reached for a fine-tip paintbrush. “I’ve been a volunteer for my entire adult life and I can’t remember anything like this in the past. Even during the Rajneesh attack back in ’84, the parade and festival still went on as planned.”
I remembered reading about the Rajneesh bioterrorist attack in high school. The extremist group had poisoned salad bars in The Dalles, Oregon, with salmonella, sickening over seven hundred residents, in an attempt to stop people from voting and ensure a win for their candidate. At the time it was the biggest and most successful bioterrorist attack in the United States.
“You think this is like the Rajneeshees?”
“No. Much worse. That crisis took place in the summer and fall, it didn’t interfere with Rose Festival. However, people were still upset and nervous about further retaliation or acts of violence, but nothing happened. The thought of anyone trying to ruin Portland’s most loved festival of the year makes me sick to my stomach.” She flicked the tip of her paintbrush. “I’ve learned there’s not much use in worrying about things we can’t control though. So shall we get to gluing?”
I took the brush and followed Gloria to the front section of our float, stealing one more glance at Nicki and Ted. Were things about to explode between them and Dark Fusion? I never would have imagined that agreeing to design a Grand Floral float could be dangerous, but I was starting to wonder what Aunt Elin and I had gotten ourselves into.
Chapter Three
Gloria and I didn’t have a chance to dive into our work because Ted grabbed a bullhorn and called the volunteers together. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a growing situation with the punks who I’m sure you’ve all seen outside.” He paused as volunteers murmured to each other. “As some of you know, the police were here earlier and they will be returning later tonight. They’ve offered to escort you to your cars. I don’t want to scare or alarm anyone, but our parade is under assault, and I’ve just learned from the police that one of our volunteers was physically assaulted trying to leave the premises.”
Ted’s words made everyone gasp.
“It’s okay.” He swept his hand in a regal motion. “As your grand marshal, I refuse to allow these deviants to deter our mission. There is no need to panic. We’re taking every extra precaution for the moment. Fortunately, the volunteer wasn’t injured, but we don’t want to take any chances.”
Nicki stepped forward with a handful of bright yellow flyers. “I want to second what Ted said. We’re working directly with the police. They are monitoring the situation and have offered extra patrols as well as helping anyone in and out of the barn. I’ve printed some flyers with more details about our response. Dark Fusion members are not allowed in any of the warehouses or even on the gravel parking lot. The waterfront path is city property, but the police will be patrolling the area to ensure that all of us as well as anyone walking on the pathway can access it without being harassed. Dark Fusion can’t mount a protest here without a formal permit. Ted’s working to try to rush through a restraining order. In the short term, should anyone approach you or attempt to block your path on the way in and out of the barn, my personal cell number is on here. If you need anything or witness anything suspicious or violent, call me anytime.”
She passed the stack of flyers to a volunteer. Ted removed his straw hat and placed it over his chest. “What Dark Fusion is doing is incomprehensible. Let me repeat this again, as grand marshal of your parade, I assure you that their tyrannical acts will not go unpunished. Even if I have to hunt each member down, justice will be served and our beloved Grand Floral Parade will go on. They can scream and pound their fists, we will not be swayed from our mission. What’s our theme this year?” He paused.
Someone near the back shouted, “Shine!” “That’s right.” Ted waved his hat in the air. “Portland will shine come Saturday. We will march in the streets and not be deterred by a bunch of guerilla renegades determined to bring unrest and darkness to our peaceful city.”
Gloria squeezed my forearm. “I hope he’s right. I have a bad feeling about this.” Her fingers were clammy.
“He sounds like he’s taking it personally,” I replied as we returned to the Blomma float. Although we had made considerable progress, every section of the float still had hours and hours of work left to complete. I felt a mild anxiety build in my chest.
“That’s because he is.” Gloria struggled to open a step stool. Her shoulders arched painfully, but the stool wouldn’t budge.
“Let me get that for you,” I said, taking the stool and locking it into the open position.
“Thank you. Creaky bones.” She placed the stool over the black tarp positioned around the float. I kneeled next to her on a foam garden pad. Our task for the rest of the evening was to finish covering the base of the float with a combination of amaranthus seeds and ground rice. The float itself was actually a Suburban that was buried underneath our structure and camouflaged with thousands of seeds, flowers, and greenery. Come parade day, the driver would never even see the street.
Gloria’s hands quivered as she painted a one-inch strip of glue onto the base. “I’ve never seen Ted like this.” She turned to stare at him. He was talking to the float crew working on a float designed in honor of Portland’s sister city, Guadalajara, Mexico. Their float depicted two flamenco dancers wearing bright, colorful, traditional folk-dancing costumes. Ted’s cape billowed behind him as he motioned with his arms. I knew that he was speaking with passion but it almost looked as if he was trying to mimic the fluid motion of the dancer on the float.
“I can’t say that I blame him,” Gloria continued. “He’s going to pop a vein in his head if he keeps letting Sham get to him like this.”
“But what can he do? It’s not like he has any control over Dark Fusion.” I dipped my paintbrush into the glue and began coating it onto the float in one long strip. Next, I stuck a sponge into another bucket filled with the amaranthus seeds and pressed them onto the glue. It was a slow process, and a bit tricky because while pressing the seeds I had to place a bucket directly under the line of glue so that I could catch any overflow. As it was, seeds were scattered everywhere. I had a feeling that I would be hearing the tiny seeds hitting the plastic tarp in my sleep for weeks to come.
Before work began on any of the floats, tarps were tucked around the base of each vehicle. At the end of every shift the crew chief would direct the volunteers to carefully lift the plastic section by section and scoop the overage back into buckets. We wanted—no, needed—to salvage as much product as possible. Nicki’s mantra this year was No seed or stem shall go wasted. It was a tall order. Seeds went flying everywhere. I’d found them in my hair and even inside my shoes at the end of a long day.
Gloria dabbed the fine rice powder onto the float. It looked like a first snow. “That’s my point. He needs to let it go and let the police take care of it. I’ve told him again and again, but he won’t listen. Stubborn man. He’s making things worse. You can’t argue with anarchists. Ted is giving them exactly what they want—a reaction.”
“You’re right.” I tried to concentrate on decorating, but couldn’t stop watching Ted. His face was scrunched in a tight ball and he looked as red as Portland’s signature rose. He weaved his way through every float, stopping to promise volunteers that he would personally assure their safety.
When he made it to our float, he greeted Gloria with a pat on her shoulder and then appraised our work. “Very unique design, ladies. Excellent. Most excellent.” There was something about his posture that felt condescending, despite his effusive praise. Perhaps it was the fact that he picked at a pile of moss I had set on the bottom step and tossed it to the side with distain.
“I knew that inviting Blomma would add a new layer of class to the parade.” He tapped a twisted grapevine. “Lovely use of interesting and contrasting textures. I would say you have a good shot at winning an award.” There was something off-putting about his tone.
Gloria tried to stand but her knees gave out. Ted hurried over to help her, as did I. We lifted her together. “Don’t make a fuss. Creaky bones. Creaky knees.” She brushed us off, but I caught a wince of pain flash across her face.
“Float design is a young person’s game, Gloria. It’s probably time for us two old fogies to throw in the towel, don’t you think?” He shook a seed from his pristine white loafers.
“Never!” Gloria flinched as if Ted’s words had struck her.
He didn’t notice. “I haven’t officially announced this, but this is going to be my last year as grand marshal. I’m passing on the torch to someone new next year, to focus on curating my international rose garden.”
Gloria smoothed her vintage Rose Festival T-shirt. She appeared to have recovered from her shock at Ted’s suggestion that they give up volunteering. She changed the subject. “Have you met Elin’s niece, Britta? She’s quite the flower expert. I’m sure she’d love to tour your garden.”
“Ah, this is Britta. The famous, Britta. Your aunt has been talking about you for years.” Ted reached to shake my hand.
I held up my hands, which were smudged with sticky black residue. “I’ll just say hi.”
He pretended like it was no big deal, but I noticed him smooth his white suit jacket as if my dirty fingers were contagious. “Where is Elin?”
“She’s at the shop. We’ve been trading places—dividing up our time here and working on the designs for the dignitaries’ dinner. She should be here in the next hour or two. Did you need something?”
“No. You heard my speech earlier and got a flyer?”
“We did,” Gloria said. She had walked to the supply cart in the pigpen, and was cutting six-inch strips of twine. The woman never stopped. Her stamina was impressive, especially given her age and “creaky” bones. “Ted, you should head home and take a break. Nicki seems to have things under control, and I think that you being here is making things worse with Dark Fusion.”
Wow. I was also impressed that Gloria was so direct. She didn’t beat around the bush.
“No. I’m not leaving. That’s exactly what they want. They want me out of here. I’m not about to give them that satisfaction. The moment we show any sign of weakness, they win. I dealt with much worse during my tenure as mayor, and I’m not about to give Dark Fusion an inch.” His voice was laced with anger.
Gloria tried to calm him down. “Ted, how long have we known each other? And how long have we been doing this together? Thirty years? Longer? I know how much you care about the parade, but this is killing you. I’m worried about your health. You’ve been here around the clock. From the looks of the bags under your eyes, you probably aren’t sleeping or eating well. I love the parade too, but I don’t want to see you go down for the count.” Her hands quivered slightly as she spoke.
Ted’s face relaxed slightly. “Thanks, Gloria. You sound like my wife. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not going anywhere. We only have a few days left. I’ll sleep once we’ve pulled off another successful Grand Floral Parade.”
Gloria looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she nodded and kept snipping twine.
He turned to me. “Once this is over, please accept this as my official invite to my hand-curated rose garden. I have over two hundred varietals, heirlooms, and test vines. It’s the largest personal collection of roses in the state. As a matter of fact, soon it might be the largest in the world. You and Elin are more than welcome to come take a tour. I’m sure you’ll find a number of rare stems that you’ve never seen before. People tell me that my collection is the most incredible rose experience.”
“Thanks.” The man obviously loved roses, and certainly wasn’t bashful about bragging.
“How are you enjoying float design and decorating?” Ted asked. He had shifted back into his role as ambassador of the festival.
“It’s been really fun and I’ve learned so much,” I said. I was about to ask him a question about the judging process, but suddenly a hush came over the barn. The sound of the power saw and shop vac stopped. Volunteer chatter ceased as all eyes focused behind me.
My stomach dropped. Had Dark Fusion infiltrated? I froze in place. They wouldn’t do something drastic, like blow up the barn, would they? The sound of their chants echoed in the quiet, cavernous warehouse. Was the sound getting closer?
I watched Ted turn around slowly, and followed his lead, expecting to see a wall of anarchists waiting to take over the barn.
Instead, a tall, gorgeous woman, wearing strappy heels and a skintight black dress, stood in the doorway. She was clearly not here to work on a float. Decorators were given strict instructions to wear jeans or shorts, T-shirts or sweatshirts, and tennis shoes. Not only were sturdy shoes a necessity when climbing scaffolding or kneeling for hours, but volunteers would leave with glue and flower particles stuck to their clothing and coating their skin.
“She’s here. She’s finally here!” Ted sucked in his breath, and ignored my question. He flipped his cape behind him and raced toward the front.
“Who is she?” I asked Gloria.
Gloria pointed to the tiara resting on top of the woman’s silky blond curls. “Queen Priscilla.”
“Queen? I thought the Rose Festival court was high school students. Isn’t this year’s queen from Jefferson High School?”
“Yes.” Gloria nodded. “Priscilla is this year’s honorary queen. She’s a former queen who reigned twenty-five years ago. She has been invited to crown this year’s queen at the coronation and will be watching over the princesses. The media is going to do a series of short vignettes about a former queen imparting her wisdom to a new generation of girls. That sort of thing. Of course, she’ll be on the float with Ted for the parade as well.”
Was it my imagination or did Gloria sound almost envious?
Without pause Gloria continued. “Rose princesses aren’t just pretty faces, you know. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Did you know that members of the court spend weeks traveling? It’s a full-time job—five days a week. The princess and Rose Festival Queen visit hospitals, youth groups, senior care centers, and civic groups. They meet with business leaders and politicians.”
As Gloria spoke, a faraway look crossed her face. Now I had no doubt that Gloria longed to have been part of the court.
