Scene of the Brine (10 page)

Corinne and Aunt Judy immediately agreed, as did Lydia.

“Yes,” she said. “I'll be happy to finish and be gone before that
musician
reappears.” The eye roll and dismissive sniff she added said everything about her opinion of Nate and his performance.

Piper saw Aunt Judy draw an indignant breath and gave her arm a
let it go
squeeze. Besides, the surprised look on Corinne's face probably said enough. There was a flurry of good nights, and Piper nudged her aunt away with Corinne and Lou following closely behind.

. . .

H
ow could anyone not appreciate Nate's musicianship?” Aunt Judy huffed in the car after they'd waved their final good-byes to the Fortneys.

“Lydia should be more careful about voicing that opinion if she wants to stay in the good graces of most of Cloverdale,” Piper said.

“She strikes me as someone who expects to impose her own opinion on the rest of the world.” Aunt Judy turned her key in the ignition. “What a dislikable, pompous woman! I surely hope she doesn't influence too many on that point.”

“I wouldn't worry about it. Dirk Unger, on the other hand, definitely swayed Corinne and Lou's opinion on Stan Yeager and Marguerite Lloyd, didn't he?”

“Yes, and that was very surprising. He surely must be wrong about Stan. And as far as the landscaping goes, I'm reasonably sure that Corinne and Lou could have afforded most anything Marguerite designed. Corinne has talked about cruises they planned to go on and new furniture they were ordering—and she was never one to puff things up to sound grander than they were. Corinne had been so excited over her garden plans.”

“And Lou looked like he genuinely hated to see her disappointed. How did Unger manage to change their minds?” Piper asked.

Aunt Judy shrugged her bewilderment. “Hypnotism?”

Piper smiled, though in a way it didn't seem so far-fetched. Cobras hypnotized their victims, didn't they? And Dirk Unger had been definitely snakelike, at least to Piper's mind. The question was, which of his victims had struck back with his or her own venom?

As Aunt Judy pulled away from the curb, Piper asked, “Can you tell me how to get to Marguerite Lloyd's greenhouse? I've decided to pay her a visit tomorrow.”

14

A
fter Piper got home, she turned on her laptop and did an online search for the Realtor's Code of Ethics, looking for any legitimate complaints that might have been made about Stan Yeager. She discovered that complaints were not made public but were handled privately, first by a grievance committee, then by a board. She didn't know if Dirk Unger had access to such information—possibly through Jeremy—but she highly doubted that any such valid complaints existed, especially multiple ones, as Corinne had claimed. Stan Yeager surely would not remain a licensed Realtor if that were the case, and she'd seen his framed certification on his office wall.

While she was online, Piper searched Marguerite Lloyd's name and was led to her greenhouse website. A basic site with photos of flowers and landscaping ideas, it gave Lloyd's professional background, which included time spent working in Springfield, Ohio. That was interesting, since Tammy had said Dirk Unger started out in Ohio before joining Jeremy Porter. Of course, Ohio was a big state, but it was a connection, and the only one between the two that Piper had found so far.

What could she learn by talking to the woman? She wasn't sure, but Piper thought of one person who might help her break the ice. She grabbed her phone.

“Will,” she said when the familiar baritone voice answered the call. “Feel like taking a break tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Will said, sounding pleasantly surprised, then more cautiously asked, “What's up?”

“Just covering all the bases,” Piper assured him. She told him about all she'd learned lately concerning the Dirk Unger murder—which sounded depressingly meager as she spelled it out.

“Do you know much about Marguerite Lloyd?” she asked.

“'Fraid not. I've passed by her place, of course, but never had a reason to stop in. The only time I met her was when I pulled her car out of the ditch.”

“Hopefully she'll still feel grateful enough to chat a good long while, and ideally about things connected to Dirk Unger.”

“So I'm to be your shill?”

Piper grinned, hearing the dry humor behind the question. “Nothing underhanded. Simply a friendly discussion.”

“Uh-huh. What time do you want this interroga—um, friendly discussion—to take place?”

“One o'clock works for me.”

When Will agreed that that worked for him, too, Piper said she'd swing by his place at that time. As she ended the call, she hoped Marguerite Lloyd would be a major breakthrough in her efforts to save Zach from a murder charge. Stan Yeager was looking more and more likely as a substitute candidate, and she hated that. Ms. Lloyd, however, was unknown to her, which allowed Piper to put her in that position much more comfortably.

She went to bed with high hopes, though her sleep that night became restless as familiar faces peered at her through prison bars. Will? Uncle Frank!

In the morning she blamed her odd dreams on the rich meal and wine of the evening before.

. . .

A
t precisely one o'clock the following day, Piper turned into the driveway marked by the familiar sign: “Burchett Tree Farm and Christmas Shop.” As she followed the graveled drive between rows of lush evergreen trees of varying sizes, she thought of her first visit there when Will had given her a private tour of the place. She'd learned more that evening than she'd ever dreamed there was to know about Christmas trees and their care and feeding. What impressed her most at the time, though, was Will's obvious excitement over his place. It was a longtime dream that he'd studied and saved for, the realization of a goal reached on a very direct path. It was a special person, she felt, who was able to do that, and within a minute that special person came into her view as she neared the parking area.

“How about I drive,” Will called, crunching over the stones toward her as she slowed to a stop.

Since Will knew the way better, that made sense, so Piper climbed out, waving to Tomas, Will's new employee, whose tractor pulled a trailer full of equipment toward the fields.

“How are things going with the farm?” she asked as she and Will headed for his green van.

“Pretty well. The rainy spring has been good for the trees. For the weeds, too. But Tomas has been working hard to keep them under control.”

Piper loved the year-round Christmas-y scent that filled Will's acres and she breathed in deeply before climbing into the van. “My tree is thriving, too,” she said, referring to the potted spruce tree Will had surprised her with the previous August, which had decorated the sidewalk near her front door ever since. Thinking of that gift reminded her of her latest one—the papier-mâché cat from Scott. When Will started his van and shifted into gear, she drew a second deep breath and said, “I have something to confess.”

Will glanced at her, then back at his rearview mirror as he executed a neat Y turn. “You poisoned Dirk Unger?”

“Nothing that drastic.” Piper smiled. “Scott picked up something at the antique shop over on Maple Street. For me. And I accepted it.” She saw Will's brows jiggle and his lips purse as he considered that. Piper pushed on, describing the ornamental cat and giving the story behind it. “He guaranteed no strings attached and that's how I took it.”

Piper waited as Will drove silently on. He came to the end of his driveway and stopped, checking for traffic. Instead of pulling out, though, he looked over at her. “It sounds like Scott wanted to make amends for an action he regretted.”

Piper nodded.

“Very decent of him.”

“Mmm-hmm. Does it bother you very much? I mean, about me keeping it?”

Will looked back at the road and pressed on his gas pedal, pulling out in a smooth, steady way, then said, “As long as you don't set the thing next to my spruce tree.” Piper smiled. “On the other hand, it's papier-mâché. Maybe a good rain would melt it? What do you think?”

“I think that would be a shame. For the artist who created it, that is.”

“Ah, yes, the artist. Not that he'd know, of course.” Will reached for Piper's hand and squeezed it. “I appreciate your mentioning it, I really do. I'm not crazy about your former fiancé bringing you gifts but I'm not about to rant and rave or sulk or do other stupid stuff. You're with me now and that's what I care about the most.”

Piper squeezed his hand back and added her second one on top for good measure before letting go so he could steer properly. Her heartbeat had picked up a bit and she was happy to say nothing for a while as she watched the green countryside fly by.

“Marguerite Lloyd's place is down that way,” Will said, breaking their comfortable silence and pointing to a side road to the right.

Piper nodded and quickly reorganized her thoughts. She still hadn't figured out what to say to Lloyd. How could she learn what she needed from the woman?

“I thought maybe I'd buy a plant or a bouquet for Aunt Judy,” she said. “I can't pretend I need landscaping.”

“Me neither.” Will navigated the turn and followed the narrow road. “Could you be writing up something about the place for the women's group your aunt belongs to?”

“The Cloverdale Women's Club? That's a great idea! Aunt Judy's always mentioning one thing or another that she's read in their newsletter. I'm not a member. But if I happened to join soon, who's to say they wouldn't appreciate a nice article like that?”

“I'm sure they'd love it.”

“You're a genius, Will Burchett,” Piper said and leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek, causing the van to waver briefly over the yellow line.

“That's what they all say,” Will said, grinning as he straightened his wheel. A sign announcing “Lloyd's Landscaping” came into view and he slowed for the entrance.

A short, paved driveway brought them to a wide parking area in front of a greenhouse. Piper noticed a few broken windows in the greenhouse patched with wood, though the tables of blooming seedlings inside looked fresh and healthy. A worker dragged a watering hose between long rows of potted shrubs outside, while another unloaded bags of mulch from a truck onto a small mountain of additional bags. A scattering of customers browsed through the greenhouse and Piper took a step toward it after climbing from the van until Will called her attention to a structure on the right. “That looks like an office. Why don't we check there?”

They walked over to a trailer perched on cinder-block stilts. Portable stairs led to a center door that had been propped open. Will trotted up the stairs and leaned in.

“Hey there, Ms. Lloyd. How're you doing?” He waved to Piper to come on up.

“Will Burchett! Great to see you again.”

Piper joined Will in the narrow trailer to see a slim woman in her fifties getting to her feet behind a paper-strewn desk, her steel gray hair pulled back into a ponytail. If Piper had run into her on the grounds, she might have taken her for one of the employees rather than the owner, dressed as she was in jeans and a T-shirt topped with a loose, rolled-sleeve shirt. The firm set of her jaw, however, along with a look that spoke of dozens of thoughts being juggled, signaled “boss.” Marguerite Lloyd squeezed around her desk to give Will a welcoming hug that included a few robust back slaps.

“This man was my rescuer,” she said, turning to Piper as she held Will by the shoulders. “There I was, stuck in a ditch with no working cell phone, thinking I was in a ton of trouble, when he suddenly appeared around the bend like a guardian angel and pulled me out.”

“Just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Ms. Lloyd, this is Piper Lamb. She'd like to write up something about your nursery for the Cloverdale Women's Club.”

Marguerite Lloyd gave Piper a speculative look, then grinned and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Piper.” She gave her hand a solid shake. “I thought I'd met all the women in that club. You must be a newcomer.”

“My aunt Judy has been a member for years,” Piper said, skipping over the fact of her own nonmembership.

“Lamb! Right. Judy Lamb. So you're her niece? I heard somebody connected to her had moved into town. Sure, if you want to give my place a little publicity, I'm all for it! What do you want to know?”

The phone on the desk rang and Marguerite Lloyd reached for it. Piper scrabbled through her purse for the small notebook she usually kept there, along with a pen. Marguerite rattled off a few plant names into the phone, then said, “Send Patty over to handle the phone here. I'm going to be busy for a few minutes.” She hung up and turned back to Piper. “This is your first time here, right? Let's take a look around the grounds while we talk.”

They tramped noisily down the metal steps, Marguerite quickly taking the lead and chattering away, giving Piper answers to questions she hadn't yet thought to ask. “Bought this place ten years ago,” she said. “From old Seth Higgins. Guess you didn't know him—way before your time. He handled it mostly as an offshoot of his farm. I expanded things a lot after I took over.” She ran through details of the inventory she'd added, the landscaping services she offered, and the number of employees she'd eventually hired.

Piper scribbled in her notebook as Marguerite walked them through the greenhouse and out into the field of potted shrubs, talking steadily the whole time. When she paused at one point for a breath, Piper interjected, “Would you say your landscaping service is the major part of your business or the garden supplies?”

“Landscape design is my passion.” Marguerite's eyes flashed in confirmation. “I like to concentrate on that.”

“Your website says you got started in Springfield, Ohio.”

“You've done your homework,” Marguerite said, pleased. “Yup, that's where I learned a lot of what I know about this business. The rest came just by doing.”

She chattered on about the approach she took to her landscape design, which was to incorporate as many indigenous plants as possible. “Some clients get fancy ideas from magazines about what they want and I have to explain to them why certain plants just won't work here. You have to consider the soil and the temperatures. Some plants will survive but only with nonstop watering or winter wind protection. Do they really want to get into all that, I ask? Usually they'll have second thoughts and change their minds.”

“One of my aunt's friends, Corinne Fortney, was talking about landscaping her property,” Piper threw out casually, as she wrote in her notebook. “Last I heard, her plans were on hold. Was she someone who wanted the wrong plants?” Piper looked up to catch Marguerite's reaction.

The landscaper's face darkened. “You'll have to ask Mrs. Fortney about that.” A worker was unloading trays of seedlings onto a nearby table when one was accidentally knocked to the ground. “Watch what you're doing!” Marguerite snapped, causing the woman to look up, red-faced, then scramble to rescue the fallen seedlings.