A Deadly Bouquet Read Online Free Page A

particularly curious. He’d gotten into the habit of sending me trinkets. What I really wanted, he wasn’t ready to give. I needed a detailed account of why he’d walked out. So far all I’d gotten was the old cliché—irreconcilable differences with my mother—which didn’t tell me squat.
    And neither did the words “Bretta … Spade.”
    What had Oliver meant? What was he trying to tell me? Lew had been right about one thing. If Oliver had used his dying breath to whisper those words to me, it must have been important to him. Of course, the man couldn’t be sure he was dying. He’d fought death before and won. Only this time he’d lost the battle and had left me with a final plea.
    Damn but I hated not knowing what was expected of me. By not doing anything, by not having an inkling of what I should do, I felt as if I was denying Oliver his last request.
    Guilt was a great motivator. I grabbed my purse and started for the back door. I could go to the park, pack up Eddie’s tools, and take them by his house. I wouldn’t knock on his door. I’d simply leave everything in plain sight. It wasn’t much, but it was better than—
    The telephone rang. Irritated, I stopped and stared at it. Now that I had a plan, I was anxious to put it into action, but it’s difficult to ignore a ringing phone. Two more jingles and I picked up the receiver.
    â€œThe Flower Shop. Bretta speaking.”
    â€œThis is Claire. I met you this morning at the park.”
    â€œYes, Claire. I remember.” Green hair. Green eyes. How could I forget? “What can I do—”
    â€œI’ve got to see you.”
    â€œIf you have any questions about this wedding, go straight to Evelyn. I’m not about to second-guess what she wants.”
    â€œI can’t discuss this on the phone. Can you come to my beauty shop? The address is 3201 Marietta Avenue. You have a reputation for getting to the bottom of suspicious doings. I can’t make heads or tails of this information, but I’m not sitting on it.”
    â€œWhat information?”
    â€œJust get here—” Claire’s voice lost its excited tone. “Well, hi,” she said calmly. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
    I frowned in confusion. Was the woman crazy? Perhaps all those chemicals she used on her hair had seeped into her brain. “What’s going on?” I asked.
    Instead of answering, Claire plunked down the receiver, but I could still hear her talking. “Just making an appointment. If you’ll take a chair, I’ll be right with you.”
    Oh. A customer had come in. Claire said, “Sure, I have time. Let me finish this call.”
    The receiver was picked up, and Claire asked, “You have the address, correct?”
    â€œYes. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
    â€œNo hurry,” she said quietly. “My pigeon just walked through the door.” She hung up.
    I replaced the receiver and went out to my car. Pigeon? That was a strange way to refer to a customer.
    I made a left turn, headed for the park, but after a few blocks I detoured back the way I’d come. I was curious as to what Claire wanted.
    Marietta Avenue was located in the old historic district, which sat on the limestone bluffs overlooking the Osage River. The area, with its brick-paved streets, was undergoing revitalization, which I was glad to see was progressing well. I had a fondness for this part of town, and had done a bit of research on its history.
    In 1810 a man named James Horton and his wife, Hattie, had organized a group of people intent on finding a new land and new beginnings. On their trek west, these pioneers had gotten lost. Finding themselves on the bank of the Osage River, they had either lacked the will to travel forward or liked what they’d stumbled upon. For whatever reason, the settlers had put down roots in this soil, and River City, Missouri,