Digging Up Daisy, page 9
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. Besides, this is my home, too, you know!” Kinsley continued. “Now, let me tell you, if it takes me the rest of today to finish up this plot of land, I’m doing it. I’m really hoping for minimal interruptions this time, because I’m not moving on to the next property until the Salty Breeze looks perfect.”
Tilly beamed. “I didn’t expect anything less!”
“By the way, totally off subject, but I called Rachel on the way home, and she confirmed I can plant something where the hydrangea was located. The crime scene investigator removed a soil sample and since they didn’t find any other evidence over there, she’s releasing the property back to us. I bought some Shasta daisies, they’re perennials, too, so they’ll come up every year. I think I’ll add some begonias in front of them for when the flowers recede. Anyway, I hope you don’t mind—it seemed fitting.”
Tilly’s smile faded. “Oh, Kinsley, I think that’s very special and kind of you. What a sweet gesture. Of course I don’t mind.” Tilly blew out a slow sigh. “I still can’t get that poor girl out of my mind, what an absolute tragedy.”
A tragedy indeed. Kinsley didn’t know what else to say, except she couldn’t let it go, either. She didn’t share this with her aunt, though, for fear Tilly might push her to stay out of it. Which, at this point, wasn’t really an option in her mind.
A quiet lull fell between them.
“By the way, did you hear that Baxter is missing?”
“Again? I wondered that since I haven’t seen him around, but then again I’ve been busy this week.” Tilly searched the property, as if she might see him hiding under a bush or behind a tree somewhere or even happily galloping in their direction.
Kinsley chuckled. “Seems that’s the consensus—no one is surprised by his sudden disappearing act. Speaking of Baxter, Aunt Tilly, you mentioned it before, but do you really think Baxter would be capable of going all the way to that farm field, then coming back and burying that shoe at the inn?”
“Anything is possible. Edna has told me that he’s destroyed several of her favorite shoes. I guess we can’t rule out the possibility, now, can we? Did Rachel happen to mention anything else about the investigation when you spoke?”
Kinsley shook her head. “She was kinda tight-lipped. Except I forgot to tell you, they found an unidentified earring at the crime scene. One that they didn’t think belonged to Daisy. Other than that, there was very little found at the field. At least, that’s what Rachel shared with me.”
“Oh . . . Well, I’m sure she’s not able to divulge too much.”
“I suppose. To be honest, I was surprised she shared as much as she did.” Kinsley loaded her arms with annuals and set them on the ground. “Hey, I’d love to chat more, but if you want the yard spruced up today as much as I do, I need to get back to it. Let’s catch up on the porch when I’m finished. You have any lemonade?”
“I sure do, my love! Just made a fresh batch this morning.” She swatted Kinsley lovingly on the backside with the dish towel that had hung over her shoulder, as if she were still ten years old. “I’d better get back to work, too. I’ll meet you out on the porch in a bit,” she added before turning on her heel.
“Sounds perfect,” Kinsley said, and then moved to lug the oversized garden planter to its final location. Once placed, she abandoned the containers and instead focused on planting the Shasta daisies in the victim’s honor. She dug a hole in the soil and set them carefully in front of where the hydrangea had been removed. Then she circled the daisies with red and pink begonias, tapped them into the soil, and watered them in.
When finished, she laid a hand across her heart as she stood back and uttered a silent prayer for Daisy. Even though the shoe was now in Rachel’s care, Kinsley couldn’t help but feel curious. Was any DNA found on the shoe? As soon as the workday was finished she would reach out to Rachel again and prod her for more information, see if any new evidence had come to light. She had to. After all, it was her job to protect her aunt’s well-being, and her livelihood. And nothing would stop her from that.
An unnerving feeling, as if she were being watched, suddenly came over her. She turned her head and after looking over both shoulders, Kinsley chalked it up to paranoia. This murder in Harborside really left her feeling on edge. She shook it off and went back to work.
Kinsley returned to the flowerpots and filled them with purple fountain grass in the center for height and added a colorful arrangement of salmon geraniums, sweet alyssum, and blue lobelia to spill over the sides. She then stepped back and with her cell phone took a picture of the planter to add to her website. The photo also allowed her to see the arrangement with fresh eyes in case anything looked out of place and any adjustments needed to be made. Which it did. After setting her cell phone aside, she replaced her work gloves and added a bit more lobelia until the container was full. Kinsley had just removed her garden gloves once again and wiped her brow when she heard a voice over her shoulder.
A woman Kinsley didn’t recognize caught her attention by saying, “Wow, that’s stunning! What’s the grassy thing called?”
“Oh, thanks. It’s called purple fountain grass. I like it, too, as it fills in nicely by the end of summer and dances in the breeze. We’re lucky to have those windy days, being out here close to the water.” Kinsley smiled. “Hence, the Salty Breeze Inn . . .”
“Yes, I can see how that would dance.” The woman mimicked her smile and then did a little wiggle to demonstrate, causing the two to share a chuckle.
“Are you staying here for the reunion?” Kinsley thought she knew the answer, but decided to play dumb, in hopes of pumping the woman for information. She dropped her gloves to the ground and wiped her sweaty hands on her shirt, then landed her hands on her hips. Her mouth watered at the thought of her aunt’s homemade lemonade.
“Yeah, I’m leaving the day after tomorrow,” she answered with a groan. “I’m not ready to leave this place, it’s magical. When I grew up in Harborside, I lived in town. It was always my dream to come back someday and live oceanside. So far, that hasn’t happened because it’s so incredibly expensive.” She sighed. “That’s life,” she added with a shrug, before the two looked longingly out toward the sea, where the fog was now burning off and a hot summer sun was taking its place.
Kinsley wasn’t sure how to respond. She knew she was incredibly blessed to live on her aunt’s property, and she rarely took it for granted. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Oh, I’m Abigale, but my friends call me Gabby. The name fits, as I have the gift of gab, or so I’ve been told.” She grinned.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Kinsley.” She looked down at her soiled hands and held back. “I’d shake your hand, but despite the gloves, I still seem to get the dirt beneath my nails.”
Gabby laughed. “No worries. Have you worked here long, Kinsley?”
“This is actually my aunt’s inn; I live back in the caretaker’s quarters.” Kinsley pointed out the cottage, and Gabby followed with her eyes.
“Oh, you are so lucky! I would die to live here,” Gabby said, and then she took a step backward, stunned at her own choice of words. Then she lifted her hands to her cheeks. “I didn’t mean that . . . Oh boy.” She cringed. “Bad timing for a comment like that.”
“You’re fine.” Kinsley chuckled, trying to keep the mood light. Hoping to make her feel comfortable and prod Gabby for more, Kinsley continued lightly, “I’m glad the fog is finally lifting, great day for the beach.”
“Oh, it sure is.” Gabby looked to the horizon and then back at her. “I was just on my way inside to change into my swimsuit and meet the others down there.” She smiled. “Not to rub it in or anything; looks like you have been working hard out here. I’m sure you could use a beach day.”
“Oh, it’s all right. I love what I do. Trust me, I take my moments when I can. How long is everyone else in your group staying at the inn?”
“When we booked, we all decided to add on a few extra days after the reunion to really catch up. Honestly, we all agreed no one wanted to be on a plane with a hangover.” She grimaced. “That would make for a long trip.”
“Yeah, I suppose it would, wouldn’t it?”
“Anyway, I think the others are staying even longer but unfortunately, I gotta get back the day after tomorrow. Duty calls.” She frowned.
Gabby turned away, and Kinsley put out a hand to stop her. “I know you’re probably in a rush for the beach, but can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” She pulled the hairband off her wrist and fastened her dark hair into a makeshift ponytail while she waited for the question.
“Do you know if anyone lost an earring? I found one, and I was just wondering who it belonged to. I thought if someone changed clothes, it might’ve dropped. It looks kinda expensive, so . . .”
“Ah,” Gabby self-consciously checked both ears with her hands. “Mine are still there.” She smiled. “I haven’t heard anyone complain of missing one.”
“Oh. Did anyone noticeably disappear from the reunion that night? To change clothes or anything?”
“The only one I knew that left for a bit was Stacey.”
“Stacey?”
“Yeah, someone spilled an entire glass of red wine on her dress. I felt so bad for her. She came back, though, after she changed. She didn’t let it dampen her evening. What a trooper!”
“So, she came back to the inn then? To change clothes?”
“I’m assuming she did. She lives here in Harborside, but since we all knew we’d be drinking like the good ole days, even the locals are guests here this week. Plus, we all wanted to stick together as much as we could since we haven’t seen each other in ages. Anyhow, you’d have to ask her.” She shrugged. “Why? Where’d you find the earring? Out here in the grass?”
Kinsley dodged the question and instead said, “No one else disappeared for a noticeably long period of time?” She waited with bated breath, hoping Gabby might share a minor detail she had forgotten to share with the police. Or a slip of the tongue. Anything that might give Kinsley a lead or direction on where to dig next.
“Why do you ask? If this is about the murder, I guarantee no one from our class had anything to do with that. None of us had met the victim or knew that she was supposed to perform that night until we were questioned by the police. Awful, though, eh? So incredibly sad.”
“Someone must’ve known Daisy was going to perform in order to book her for the event, no? A coordinator, perhaps? Who oversaw the planning?” Kinsley didn’t share that she knew Edna was part of it. She wanted to see if Gabby would drop either her or Luke’s name into the mix.
“I suppose. I know Ginger was hit hard with questions. I didn’t think about that, I should’ve asked her,” Gabby said, more to herself than to Kinsley, and then returned her attention with a grimace. “It was awful to be interrogated like that, to say the least! I’ve never encountered a situation like this. I lead a boring life,” she added with a chuckle.
“Yeah, I can’t imagine what it would be like to be questioned by police, especially after a time when you all should be celebrating.”
“Kinda put a damper on the reunion, to be honest. Was that all you wanted to ask me? I really should get going . . .”
Kinsley used her hand to tent her eyes from the sun. “My apologies, I’ve kept you long enough from the beach, and I’m sure your friends are wondering where you are. Enjoy the rest of your stay!”
The woman’s eyes looked longingly toward the cliff walk. “Yeah, I’m sure they are, I better get a move on. Have a good day!” Gabby turned and took the porch steps two at a time.
Kinsley couldn’t help but think Gabby’s former classmate Stacey might know something about the murder. She hated to jump to conclusions, but was it possible the spilled wine on her dress was just a ruse to leave the reunion? With little to go on, Kinsley needed to dig into that further, to see if Stacey was the person who might be missing an earring.
Chapter 12
This might be the best glass of lemonade you’ve ever made,” Kinsley said as she wiped the condensation from her glass and then took another huge gulp.
“Glad you like it, but you say that all the time.” Tilly smiled as she rocked slowly on one of the oversized rocking chairs that filled the long porch. Her legs barely reached the ground, and she had to tip her toe to keep the chair in a rocking motion.
“I can’t help it. It’s so refreshing on a hot day like today.”
“Sometimes I think you work too hard out there. You need to take breaks, especially when the sun burns off the fog. It sure is turning into a hot one,” Tilly added, fanning herself with her hand. “I don’t handle the heat as well as I used to. I’m getting old.” She clucked.
“You’re not old, you’re still a spring chicken,” Kinsley rebuked. “I will admit, I probably wouldn’t work as hard if you didn’t spoil me so much.” Kinsley reached for the lobster roll her aunt had left on a side table. It was made with the leftover lobster meat Tilly had fed her guests the previous day, and Kinsley couldn’t wait to take a large bite. “Thank you, this is sooo good,” she added after she’d swallowed and licked her lips.
“I don’t know how you don’t get sick of eating that stuff all the time.” Tilly then reached for the bag of salt-and-vinegar potato chips beside her, popped it open, and dug her hand into it. “I almost can’t stomach lobster anymore,” she added between chews. “Maybe it’s ’cause I cook it all the time.”
Kinsley didn’t dare point out that her aunt constantly ate vile vinegar chips—to each his own. Instead, she said, “Hey, as long as you’re saving me the leftovers, I’ll gladly eat it.” Kinsley winked before taking another large bite. “I’d take laboring out there in the yard over toiling away in the kitchen any day of the week,” she added through chomps. “I hate cooking.”
“Although it’s hot on the porch today, I’m glad the sun came out so the guests could head to the beach. I’ve got some serious cleaning to do while they’re gone. I probably should get a move on but I’d rather not. I’m enjoying your company.” Tilly reached out to pat her on the hand but missed and hit the arm of Kinsley’s chair. “After this event is over, promise me you and I will do this more often.”
“I have no problem with that.” Kinsley grinned.
“I wonder if we should invite Rachel over here from time to time to join us for dinner. She’s a nice girl, even if Kyle is too dumb to see it. Isn’t it our duty to welcome her to Harborside properly? After all, she hasn’t lived here that long. I’m sure she’d love the company.”
Kinsley grew serious and lowered her voice. “About that.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin and tucked the empty plate back on the side table after literally scarfing her lunch. “Rachel’s team supposedly interviewed all of your guests to check their alibis at the time of the murder, but did she know one of them left the reunion?”
“How do you know that someone left?”
“I was talking to Abigale, who is part of the reunion group, and she mentioned Stacey came back to change clothes. Do you know who Stacey is?” Kinsley thought that a rhetorical question because her aunt had the memory of an elephant. Upon check-in, Tilly instantly knew her guests by name, as if she’d birthed them herself. She’d told Kinsley once that she purposely made a point of remembering people’s names for two reasons: one, it made them feel instantly at home, and two, it would keep her from getting Alzheimer’s, and she didn’t want to repeat her own mother’s fate.
“Did you happen to see Stacey that night?” Kinsley pressed.
“No, but . . .”
“What room is she in?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to clean her room while she’s at the beach. It’ll give me a chance to snoop. I need to see if I can find something.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” Tilly stated firmly.
“Okay, then. We’ll do it together. If you insist, you can clean and I’ll do the snooping.” Kinsley grinned.
“Kinsley, my dear girl. I offer my guests the utmost of privacy. I would never, ever, snoop in their room,” Tilly said, adding a disgruntled clucking from her tongue.
Kinsley pointed upward to the ceiling of the porch and lowered her voice. “Really? Even if you could be housing a killer right there under your own roof?”
“I don’t see how that’s possible. Rachel vetted them, didn’t she? And I trust her.”
“Yes, she did. But what if Stacey didn’t admit to leaving? And what if the police didn’t learn that fact? Maybe no one thought to share this little tidbit of news. What if they held back? It’s not out of the realm of possibility, you know.”
“How can you say that when you heard the same thing right out here in the yard! Of course Rachel would’ve heard that detail. Phone her right now and ask her,” Tilly said with a decisive nod. “Then we’ll know for sure.”
Kinsley plucked her phone from her pocket and dialed Rachel. After receiving her voice mail, she hung up without leaving a message. “She’s not answering. And we’re running out of time. What if someone comes back from the beach? We need to get a move on! Just let me in there for a few minutes, it won’t take long. Come on, Aunt Tilly, trust me.”
Kinsley could see her aunt weighing the options. Kinsley put out praying hands to beg and used her best puppy-dog eyes to drive the point home.
“Oh, all right. But don’t disturb anything.” Tilly’s brow furrowed. “You put everything back exactly how you find it. Understood?”
