“I know what you mean. Walter, can you tell me how large a concern this nursery business is and how much revenue is generated in a month?”
“I guess it would be okay to tell you. I’d say roughly $50,000 on average, give or take a thousand.”
“That’s a lot of flowers!”
“That’s not just flowers, Ma’am. We raise mushrooms, Brussels sprouts...leeks.”
“I had no idea. Listen.” I stood. “I’ll do what I can to help you. Perhaps I can find out something at the conference. You mustn’t worry. I’m sure if you’re honest, and I think you are or you wouldn’t have such a wonderful son as Walter, everything will turn out all right.”
“I sure hope so. I don’t have much time before the owners ask for the report. Please stay in touch, Mrs. Bradley.”
Teddy hopped all over the front seat in dog-delighted welcome when I returned. “I’m glad to see you too,” I said, a little deflated by Walter’s situation. I climbed in and turned out into the street.
This was horrible. How could I help the poor man? I needed a pick-me-up to lift my spirits — quick! The road curved and I caught a glimpse of something delightful. Half Moon Bay Coffee Company, spelled in vertical letters, towered over Main Street. I parked immediately.
“I’ll have the clam chowder, half a roast beef sandwich, and a diet cola…to go.”
“Sure thing.”
The young man behind the counter looked dead to the world. Had he worked the night shift? Did they have night shifts in small towns like this?
I glanced toward the other tourists who, like me, crowded in around the bar and other tables. It seemed to be a happening place for young people, probably surfers and students, a place to hang out together…with coffee. Normally, I would have enjoyed a place like this, but I needed away from the noise to think. Yes, a shot of caffeine was just what I needed. I had to think, to plan.
Coming out of the diner, bag in hand, I heard, “Jillian, over here!” and turned to see Ann seated at a sidewalk café.
“Hello.”
Thank heavens! The perfect time for a friend.
Then I did a double take and regretted acting so ready to sit and dine. Next to her under a wide brimmed beach hat was Evelyn Westover. Spencer Hausman and a woman I hadn’t seen before put their menus on the table.
I saw them and cringed, not really in the mood for vain conversation.
“Jillian, meet Marianne Delacruz. I believe you’re going to review her tomorrow.”
Ann placed her menu on the table and gestured, “Marianne, this is Jillian Bradley.”
I nodded my head in a friendly way, not quite in the mood for perfect cordiality.
“Thomas didn’t join you, I see?”
Evelyn half closed her eyes. “Thomas is playing a round of golf this afternoon. That is his life, you know. He was the one who insisted we stay at the hotel. I told him we would have been much more comfortable at home, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
I changed the subject. “I see you’ve met my friend Ann.”
“Oh, yes,” said Evelyn. “It seems we have a mutual friend who spoke at the Rutherford House League last month. It’s a small world, isn’t it? Just the other day....”
Spencer spoke before Evelyn could continue. “I knew Ann was a garden club friend of yours, Jillian, and when we bumped into each other I invited her to have lunch with us. She’s quite a delight.”
The server brought another chair and I sat down to join them for a minute.
“Are you only having lunch, or have you all been shopping like I know Ann has.”
“Just lunch,” Marianne said quickly before anyone else could answer.
They exchanged a few furtive glances, so I stood to leave. “I’ve just had mine, and actually, I’m ready for a nap. It was nice to see you again Evelyn, and nice to meet you, Marianne. I’m looking forward to your talk on tree peonies. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, Spencer. Ann, see you at tea.”
Nearly back at the jeep, I heard a light step behind me.
Marianne caught her breath. Apparently, she had jogged to catch up with me before I left. She raised her shoulders in a shy gesture. “Do you mind if I ride back with you? I need to get some things ready for my talk tomorrow, and I don’t want to hurry anyone with their lunch.” She hurried through her excuse as if justifying herself was necessary.
“Of course.” I moved my excited-to-see-me companion off his seat and into the back. “Sorry, Teddy. We must be courteous.”
It was a joke. He preferred having the entire seat to himself anyway.
She was quiet after we got into the car. Something was on her mind. She finally spoke.
“That’s a cute dog.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “I’ve always had a Yorkie.”
“Why did you name him Teddy? Any special reason?”
“My husband’s name was Ted.”
“You’re widowed then?” She turned to look at me.
I started the car and pulled away from the curb. “Yes.” I gave a sign, then smiled as I remembered him.
“Would you care to tell me what happened?” She acted glad to put the ball of conversation in my court.
“They drafted him soon after we were married and sent him to Vietnam. Killed in combat within the year. Before he died though, he managed to save three of his buddies by drawing enemy fire away as they escaped.”
I could picture it perfectly in my mind, the bravery of it. “I still have his medal of honor and the flag they presented to me at his funeral.”
“I’m so sorry, Jillian. And you never found anyone else?”
“I never had the time. I stay busy writing for the paper, and with my own gardening endeavors, it seems I only have time for my garden club.” I laughed a little. “We had two wonderful years. He was such a loving man. He left me with enough memories to last my lifetime. I’ve never felt the need to replace him.”
I reached back and gave Teddy a love pat and noticed Marianne lost in thought.
“Marianne, are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah, I’m okay I guess. I was just thinking about Evelyn Westover. We’re great friends and have been for a long time. It just bothers me that Evelyn acts like the only thing she cares about is her social life.”
“Why should that bother you? Some people are social butterflies, some people aren’t.”
“Would you be a social butterfly six months after your son overdosed on barbiturates? Your only son?”
“I had no idea. How awful! I know it took me at least two years to get through losing my husband. You know, you’re right. Evelyn certainly doesn’t seem grief stricken or upset.”
“I think she’s deluding herself, Jillian, and when it hits her, it will hit her hard. I’ve known Evelyn for years. She never used to treat Thomas the way she does.”
“You think she’s taking it out on him?”
“That’s exactly what I think. Thomas is a wonderful man, but he can’t be expected to hold on much longer.”
“Perhaps they can get counseling.”
“Evelyn Westover? Counseling? That will never happen. She has too much pride. Her son was everything to her.”
“Have you tried to talk to her, Marianne?”
“I’ve started to several times but she always changes the subject like it’s blocked out of her mind completely.”
“What about Thomas? Have you talked to him?”
“He’s never around. He plays golf most of the time or looks after his clients in various parts of the Bay Area.”
“Losing a child is so sad,” I said. “I’m sure no one can understand what they’re feeling unless they’ve gone through it.”
“I’m sorry to burden you, Jillian. You just happened to be here when I needed to vent. Thanks for listening.”
“I’m a good listener, anytime.”
The fog had rolled in, and Marianne commented, “It’s pretty unusual to see fog this time of day.”
> I looked up at the sky. “It sure makes it dark, doesn’t it?”
I didn’t like the way the sky looked. It seemed to lean over me, threatening to obscure my happy time at this delightful conference. A shadow seemed to stalk my immediate future, and I felt a strange pressure. The two of us must have felt it, for we sat in silence until we were at the gatehouse again.
Breaking the strange foreboding feeling, Walter greeted us merrily near the front doors.
Marianne excused herself and made her way into the lobby.
I handed Walter the keys. With as much sympathy as I could muster, I brought him up to date. “Walter, I’ve seen your father. Somehow, we’ll make everything right.”
CHAPTER SIX
Three more questions came in for my column. I pasted them into a document making a mental note to talk to Hugh about the question on whether or not he recommended eating begonias. Perhaps after napping I would purchase his book. He had promised to sign it for me.
I slipped into my robe and moseyed over to the open window with my peppermint tea. The drink caddy near the bathroom had a good assortment of teas, and the coffee maker worked for heating water, too.
Teddy jumped up on the chair, trying to see out.
“Careful, there are no screens, remember?” I lifted him from the chair into a tender hug.
We looked out together. The waves caressed the rocks, and the wind was calm. We inhaled the sea air. A few golfers played on the emerald greens mowed in crisscross patterns, and couples strolled hand in hand on the walking trails.
Breaking our reverie, someone stuck a key card into a nearby door slot.
528?
I glanced at the clock on the radio.
2:15 p.m.
Two voices spoke too low to distinguish any words. Following the mumbles, a peal of laughter rang out — a woman. Then she was silent. Someone else thought it was naptime, too.
The Miramontes Room was already full to the brim where Hugh Porter was signing books.
A bit chagrined at having to wait in a line that curled out the door, I tried to entertain myself by seeing how many of the faces I actually knew.
Not a soul.
Still, many of them seemed rather interesting. It was fun to imagine what they might be like. One robust gentleman wore his collar so tight that his neck bulged and his face turned red. A set of twins spoke unintelligibly to one another, hooked arm in arm, looking like the opposite side to the same conniving person.
A heavyset woman stood at the very front, telling Hugh that her family enjoyed the fresh lettuces she grew while he signed the title page for her.
Just behind her, a tanned, lanky gentleman shyly handed his book for Hugh to sign as soon as there was a pause in her nervous chatting. “To Abner, would be fine, Mr. Porter.”
He thanked Hugh and quickly stepped away. Next, Thomas Westover approached and leaned against Hugh’s table, looking a little smug. There, now that was someone I recognized. Thomas handed Hugh two books.
Hugh smiled. “Going to read it twice, are you?”
Thomas watched while Hugh signed them.
Finally, another half hour passed, and it was my turn. Taking the opportunity, I asked Hugh about the poisonous begonias. He seemed a little weary, but humbly referred me to the correct chapter to find the answer.
I was quite done with the mad rush, and overjoyed to see Nicole maneuvering her way through the masses. I had been craving a decent conversation all day, and I hoped she would be the ticket.
“How was Paul Youngblood?” I gave her a knowing grin.
“He was very interesting, especially the part about landscaping for the romantic spa garden.”
She said it matter-of-factly, but I didn’t miss a special twinkle.
“Now in all seriousness, Nicole, I wonder if you could help me with an unusual request.”
“Sure. Oh, look, it’s almost time for tea. Why don’t we go into the Fireside Room and wait for the others?”
“Good idea.”
I chose a table in the corner for the most privacy.
“Now, what’s this about, Jillian?”
“Walter’s father is in a touchy situation and has asked for my help.”
“What can I do?”
I leaned in to whisper. “A little snooping.”
“Is it legal, this ‘little snooping,’ or do I have to bend the law?”
“It’s legal. I just need to know procedure at this point.”
“That sounds all right. What do you want to know?”
“If money was missing from a business, how would someone get it out of the account without being detected?”
“That’s a tough one. The accountant could be crooked and doctor the books, saying less was taken in than went out. Alternatively, someone could turn in invoices and receipts, making it appear more was taken in than actually was, so the balance would be less. I suppose a false account could even be set up showing money being paid out, but no money coming in.”
“Like a phony supplier that was paid for goods and services that never existed.” I spoke the thought aloud.
Ann and Dominique joined us, and we ordered tea and appetizers.
I couldn’t puzzle it out, no matter how much Earl Grey I consumed. Why would anyone take the time to steal from a nursery? Eight thousand dollars, of course, was a lot for a middle-income gentleman, but it was hardly worth it for an experienced criminal. Nurseries weren’t exactly known for rolling in dough.
Dominique, turning toward Nicole, spoke with enthusiasm, “Paul was wonderful wasn’t he? I had no idea spas had a frog problem.”
Nicole smiled. “I wonder if Paul thinks of Celeste Osborne as a frog in his spa.”
They laughed.
She continued. “Did you notice her sitting in the front row hanging on his every word?”
“How could I not notice?” Dominique sipped her tea. “She reminds me of a black widow getting ready to eat her mate.”
“Ladies, please.” I interrupted, telling them of his previous relationship with Regina and about his fiancé’s tragic demise. “I’m sure Mr. Youngblood can handle someone like Celeste. He’s not without experience, tragic experience.”
Ann looked away for a moment. “Spencer Hausman is coming this way. Let’s invite him to join us.”
How opportune.
“Ladies, how nice.” Spencer beamed. “May I join you?”
“By all means.” I smiled sweetly.
He pulled up a chair and motioned for our server to bring another set up. She brought a cup, saucer, napkin, and utensils for him then poured him a cup. He nodded to her in quiet dismissal.
I decided a few questions were appropriate. “Tell us, when you’re not working Society affairs, what do you do?”
“Actually, I work for a large wholesale nursery concern. I’m the business manager.”
“How interesting.”
“Yes, we’re located in Half Moon Bay, but we do business with outlying retailers in the Bay Area supplying them with plants on a wholesale level. We’re actually sponsoring this conference with plant specimens and speaker fees.”
“Then you must work with Thomas and Evelyn Westover.” I kept talking. “When I first met them I believe she told me they were sponsoring the conference as well.”
I casually sipped my tea and took a dainty bite of a ham and tomato sandwich.
“Thomas and Evelyn Westover own the nursery. I work for them.”
“I see. How many retailers do you supply?”
“Actually, we have sixteen accounts at present.”
“You oversee all of them? Impressive.”
“Well, most of them, I should say.” He sipped his tea. “Of course, Thomas manages one or two.”
“What about Evelyn?”
“Evelyn stays close to home managing the promotional affairs. She goes to luncheons, teas, that sort of thing, but doesn’t like to get her hands dirty.” Spencer added this with a touch of criticis
m in his voice.
He stood. “I really must be off. It was delightful having tea with you ladies. See you at the reception.”
Ann looked at her watch. “I promised Evelyn I’d meet her in the Club Room for a chat just about now. I’d better go. Something tells me she’s not the kind to wait around.”
Dominique graciously signed for the tea. “I’m going to check out the shops here. I like to know what other importers are bringing in.”
“I don’t see how anything can compete with your beautiful teak giraffes. Enjoy.”
Dominique stood and left.
I turned to Nicole and touched her arm to emphasize the importance of my request. “Nicole, stay for a minute, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” She gave me a questioning glance. After scanning my face, she got a knowing look on her face. “Your mind is going a hundred miles an hour. What can I do?”
A well-dressed older couple entered the room and sat at the table next to us.
I lowered my voice to be discreet.
“I want you to find out about the financial affairs of Thomas and Evelyn Westover. Try getting more info about Spencer Hausman, too, for starters.”
Nicole glanced at the nearby couple out of the corner of her eyes. “I do have ways, I suppose. I know someone who works for a credit reporting agency that could find out who does their personal books, and you already know who does their books at work. Give me a little time and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Nicole. I appreciate it. It’s possible that I may be poking my nose into something that’s none of my business, but I promised Walter Montoya I’d help, and I never go back on my word. I only hope it’s not someone in the Society who’s behind it.”
“Be careful, Jillian.”
“I will. You watch out too, Nicole.”
Perhaps I had been too quick to speak of Paul’s strength against the barracuda — Celeste. They were waiting together by the elevator as Nicole and I walked up.
“Jillian.” He nodded.
I could tell Celeste was none too pleased to have her solitary time with him interrupted. I would have observed her better, to get all of the potential subtext of the scowl she threw my way, but I wasn’t quick enough. Paul’s good looks disarmed my detecting senses.
Wow! He is a looker, and he’s looking at me…I mean, us.
He did seem to be examining Nicole rather slyly.