The Perennial Killer: A Gardening Mystery (30 page)
Read The Perennial Killer: A Gardening Mystery Online
Authors: Ann Ripley
Tags: #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction
It was probably no more than a silly joke. After all, someone making a serious threat would surely have thrown the stuff around the car, ruining its interior and her day.
As it was, it was manageable. Turning her nose carefully away, she lifted the bag out and set it aside while she opened the trunk of her car. She had to think of this differently. Someone had given her a gift of natural fertilizer, and she would not spurn it. She would throw it on the compost pile in the garden at her rented house.
Closing the bag of offal as best she could, she tucked it in her trunk, got back in the car, and resumed her speedy ride over the ridges of the foothills. By the time she reached her rental house, her mind was on other things, and she completely forgot her smelly little present.
Louise had taken a long, hot shower, and come into the bedroom still toweling herself. “Damn,” she muttered when she saw the message button flashing. She pushed the replay button and heard her husband’s voice for the first time in days.
“
Hi, honey. We’re pullin’ outta here
—
and I reckon I’ll be home by tomorrow
.” Was this really Bill, or someone trying to pull her leg? “
I hope y’ all’re doin’ real good
,” he continued.
“
Sure was great t’hear your voice on the answerin’ machine
.”
Y’all? Reckon? Real good? The voice was definitely Bill’s. But her husband’s devotion to the Queen’s English seldom slipped; now he seemed to be wallowing in a quagmire of southwestern colloquialisms. She wondered who he was hanging out with to make his language change so dramatically. He sounded distinctly—Texan. “
I hope somebody’s fïxin’ t’ solve those murders, and I hope you’re stayin’ out of it. Honey, I want you ta watch out for people, now
—
and you know what I mean
.”
Fixin’ to?
The answer came to her. He was associating with a bunch of southwest government agents, and then-speech habits were rubbing off on him.
Next came a message from Pete. “
Maybe I’ll see ya this evenin
,” the cameraman said. “
Eddie was by earlier and told me about the wake. If you’re comin, I’ll be right there to try to protect you”
—was that gentle taunting?—“
though I’m sure you’re insulted to hear me suggest you need protection
.”
Pete Fitzsimmons. She wished she weren’t so suspicious of the man.
“
And one more thing
,” he continued, “
my great cat, Toughy. This mornin’ I talked to Jenny next door, and just on account of you I held my tongue, for awhile, anyway. And she gave me this little bottle of drops. Just for fun I think I’ll try ’em on Toughy. But I blew it with the woman. Couldn’t resist tellin her that her cat ought to get some balls
.” He chuckled. “
Course, that’s impossible because the critter’s been deballed. Jenny’s the kind of woman that can’t tolerate a real male cat around th’ house, much less a real man. Well, I’ll see ya, Louise
.”
She smiled, and then immediately sobered. It was a mistake to fall for this man’s considerable charms. Why couldn’t he be in league with Reingold in an attempt to get Porter’s ranch? He could have shot Jimmy Porter and
driven to her rental house in time to rendezvous with her and Ann Evans. Then, he only had to drive the three of them up the road again and innocently discover the body…
With a little shock of remembrance, she could picture that empty shotgun rack above his head in the truck.
Where had his gun gone?
Men like Pete always had their gun handy.
If Pete was the murderer, he had done it with his customary aplomb. It was a superb job of acting—showing her photos of the murder scene and the Porter Ranch and speculating darkly on the figure in the woods. Was all that just to finesse her, to throw her totally off track? It gave her a pang. Her old-shoe buddy, part of a murder plot…
Unfortunately, Pete fit the profile of a killer. He was more physically competent than most other men, and an excellent marksman. A man who knew Boulder inside out, who played different roles for different people, and played them smoothly. A man with no close family to know exactly what he was doing. A man with a modern, laissez-faire outlook on both the world and on sex—for he would have happily bedded her down in his National Landmark home had she given him the nod.
She shuddered and pulled her towel more tightly about her. She was getting scared.
She needed to talk to Bill and quit playing the tough guy, airily dismissing the fact that someone had tried to kill her. Hurriedly, she looked up the Langley, Virginia, emergency number Bill had given her. She told the operator her message was urgent. As she sat on the side of die bed and waited for the call to go through, she grabbed one of her scripts. She turned it over and on the pack she wrote down some names, then connected them with lines. Eddie Porter, connected to Josef Reingold, and to Grace Prangley. Frank Porter, his name standing alone. Pete Fitzsimmons,
with a line drawn to Reingold. Mark Payne and Sheriff Tatum connected with another line, with Harriet’s name linked with both Payne’s and Tatum’s. Tom Spangler, with a dotted line connecting him to Reingold. Ann Evans, just for the record—but when Louise thought about it, with links to all of the other people. She drew the lines in. As she’d told Ann, everyone—no matter how unlikely—had to be considered when investigating a murder. She placed the script back on the bedside table.
The operator suddenly broke the silence. “Ma’am,” she said, “you say this is urgent? Maybe you should contact someone closer to you if you’re in an emergency situation.”
“Well,” huffed Louise, “I’m not in immediate danger. I just need to speak to my husband!”
“We can’t get through right now, Mrs. Eldridge, but we’ll try our best,” was all the aloof message-taker would say. Louise slumped down on the edge of the bed, disappointed. She felt as if she might never see her family again.
I
S THERE ANYTHING TRULY NEW
in compost, manure, and mulch? Yes and no. Various entrepreneurs think so, and market new products all the time. Meantime, home gardeners can be assured that bacteria, fungi, and worms are unfussy: They will go to work on anything they find in the pile, gourmet or not. The action of these microorganisms and small creatures magically transforms “green” nitrogen-rich stuff (plant tops, kitchen vegetable matter, a little horse manure,
etc.) and “brown” carbon-rich material (dried leaves, and sticks, hay, or straw) into nutritious, well-balanced meals for our plants.
One can hardly do it wrong: Even the most amateur compost pile, mixed and seasoned a bit, may not look like a brown, rich cake mix, but it still will do the job as well as a mix that does. And magically, it will turn out to have a well-balanced chemical content that is perfect for the garden, a pH of around seven; this is somewhat acidic and good for most plants. The gradual addition of compost, by the way, is the best means for improving alkaline soils.
Worms in the
kitchen!
Vermiculture is the art of persuading red worms to eat your garbage. Some gardeners even keep their setups—about the size of a backyard grill—in their kitchens, cozy and warm. They feed the worms once a week, and the results are rich dark compost. Do worms smell? Apparently not; the whole process is supposed to be odorless. However, some people’s antipathy to worms might make it worthwhile to place their work station in the garage—or maybe the basement.
No kidding, soil is a science
. They say soil is a science, and urban planners are beginning to realize they
need to listen to the experts on the subject. Now, they get specific plant “recipes,” a special one for a steep roadside berm that is quite different than the one for a city park. Custom-made topsoil might be laced with sand, compost, and the barley mulch that is the residual of beer making. Sludge, carefully selected to assure it contains no heavy metals, is also a popular soil ingredient. The homeowner might take a leaf from the experts’ book: When laying sod, for instance, nothing is more important for making a successful lawn than that rich layer of soil underneath it. When enriching our garden soil, our eye will tell us some things, but a soil test will tell us even more, about the chemical content, and what it might need to support a thriving batch of plants.
Designer compost—from Seattle, of course
. Gourmet compost, aimed, perhaps, at the latte crowd, is produced by a Seattle company, which calls it smoother, better-smelling, and more effective than regular compost. Its cost is almost a third higher. It is a mocha color, surely in tune with the city itself. A crucial ingredient is coffee grounds. Quick-drying and cooling fans to air out the compost are part of its avant-garde
production techniques. Its next product will be compost “tea,” which of course is the liquid runoff from the compost piles. Experienced gardeners have expressed some skepticism of this ultracompost, since anyone can do the same, thing in their backyard. But it’s always fun to try a gourmet product, now, isn’t it?
Must we mulch?
Mulching is smart, both for the earth’s sake, and your pocketbook’s sake. Water has become an increasingly precious commodity in the United States. Un-mulched or uncomposted gardens gobble up many times as much water, and are less healthy. Mulching moderates temperatures, controls weeds without a lot of labor from the home owner, and reduces water use radically. Encircle your trees and bushes with soaker hoses, and lay them in the gardens, then cover with several inches of mulch.
Gravel—it’s in for the long haul
. Gardeners are quietly turning to gravel as mulch. Some like it pink, but others prefer the more natural tans and browns, that blend well with woody stems and remain natural-looking even in winter. This is a mulch that won’t blow away or dry out. It simply stays there through the seasons. Rock gardeners
and xeriscape gardeners have long been its advocates.
The animal parade
. One gardener, who lives in the wilds of western New Jersey, shares his compost pile with the animals, with the crows, possums, and then raccoons taking their turn, tearing apart the kitchen scraps he puts in the pile, and leaving him with a nicely shredded mixture. Because of bear and Hon foraging, many western gardeners have quit digging
any
kitchen scraps into an open compost pile—and that’s where vermiculture can help.
A caveat for composters:
Mulch and compost both contain bacteria and fungi—and in fact, that’s what makes them operate. But they can get into the respiratory tract, allegedly causing breathing difficulties and even more serious symptoms such as fever. The condition is called “organic dust toxic syndrome.” To prevent it, gardeners are advised to keep mulch and compost damp, so that it doesn’t shed so many in-air particles. Applying mulch or compost with a gentle hand also reduces the problem.
Notes from the manure pile:
Some gardeners, and lots of organic farmers, swear by poultry manure, feeling it is the best encouragement for
plant growth. A Dutch company is producing a slow-release product called Melfert NPK 532. It is said to be acceptable to organic gardeners as well as high-tech growers, and it doesn’t smell. People with enough yard space and the proper zoning sometimes raise chickens expressly for the manure they provide the gardens—smelly or not.