Marriage and Mayhem Page 20
“Wouldn’t be the first time, buddy. We need to probe into this matter further, don’t you think?” Sheila asked.
“I agree wholeheartedly.” Agreeing wholeheartedly with Sheila had led to more than our share of mishaps and sticky situations, but, as usual, it didn’t stop me from doing it once again.
Thirty-Two
Sheila and I sat together at my desktop computer and researched poisonous plants. She gasped as I was refilling our coffee cups and pointed toward an image on the screen. “Isn’t this the palm of Christ flower that was in all of the floral arrangements?”
I looked at the screen. “Yeah. So what?”
“Palm of Christ is another name for the castor oil plant.” When I didn’t react immediately to Sheila’s statement, she continued. “Don’t you recall Raven telling us castor oil is one of the most toxic plants in the world? This article says its bean contains ricinolein, another name for ricin, as Raven indicated. And you know from watching television how deadly ricin can be.”
“Wow!” I looked at the image on the screen again to confirm what Sheila had said. “Yeah, that’s definitely the same flower. But according to Raven, it doesn’t have a reputation for causing death among humans who’ve come in close proximity to it unless they ingested the flower, and I’m sure Bubba did not get so hungry during the nuptials that he began gnawing on his boutonniere.”
Sheila nodded as she continued to read the details about castor oil plants on the website. “This also states that the inhalation of ricin can lead to respiratory distress followed by pulmonary edema, respiratory failure, and multi-system organ dysfunction. Weakness and influenza-like symptoms of fever, myalga, and arthralgia are also possible.”
“What is myalga and arthralgia?”
Sheila read further before replying to my question. “Muscle and joint pain.”
“Without being able to converse with Bubba, there’s no way of knowing if he’s experienced either of those symptoms.”
“Do you think this could be the smoking gun?” Sheila asked.
“It could be the cause of everyone’s adverse reactions, but I don’t think ‘smoking gun’ is the correct term in this instance. I can’t believe Lily Franks meant to kill anyone when she used the lovely red flower in the wedding boutonnieres and bouquets. This might be a case of accidental poisoning, you know, with no harm intended by the perpetrator. After all, Wendy chose the flowers, not the floral shop owner. But I do recall Lily being hesitant to include the palm of Christ, even though she didn’t mention why. She only relented because Wendy insisted. Of course, she never expected anyone to ingest the flower, and probably couldn’t imagine the toxin being inhaled to such a dangerous degree. Unless―”
“Unless what?” Sheila asked when I paused.
“What if someone intentionally ground one or more of the beans down to a powdery-like substance to dust the flower with?”
“You’re right. And who would know better than Lily, and obviously Raven, that the castor oil bean can be deadly if turned into powder and inhaled? Perhaps that’s why Lily chose not to mention why she was hesitant to include the palm of Christ blossoms in the arrangements. The idea of using it as a murder weapon might have already been forming in her mind.”
I considered Sheila’s comments for a few moments. “Nah. What motive could Lily have had to kill Bubba? What ties could she have even had to him that’d make her want him dead? Andy told me he’s never been to Missouri before, and I can’t imagine she’s been to Myrtle Beach, either. If she has, what are the odds she met Bubba there? That’s the part that makes no sense to me whatsoever.”
“Yeah, me neither. I still think we’re overlooking something or someone. Are you certain Lily used palm of Christ, or castor oil, plants and not something that’s very similar looking?”
As Sheila spoke, I rifled through a stack of papers I’d gathered and stored in a large plastic envelope labeled “Wedding Stuff”. I pointed to the receipt after locating it amongst the paperwork. “Yep. See? White orchids, palm of Christ, and baby’s breath.”
“Baby’s breath?” Sheila asked. She was clearly puzzled.
“Yes. Why do you look so confused?”
“There was no baby’s breath in Bubba’s boutonniere.”
“What are you talking about? I’m sure I remember them being used as a filler in all the flower arrangements.”
“No. I don’t think so. Not in Bubba’s boutonniere, anyway.”
We both stood up and practically sprinted to the kitchen. Inside the pantry, I opened up the spare refrigerator and withdrew the box of bouquets and boutonnieres. All three of the groomsmen’s boutonnieres were missing.
“What in the world?” I looked at Sheila in astonishment. “We both saw Bubba’s boutonniere in this box. In fact, we even touched and smelled it. I’m certain the other two were in this box, as well.”
“As am I,” Sheila agreed. She lifted the box up over her head and looked under it, as if she truly thought the three boutonnieres could be stuck to the bottom of it. “Where in the heck could they have gone?”
“Someone must have taken them. And you know what that means, don’t you?”
“Yes. Someone did not want Bubba’s boutonniere to be pegged as a possible murder weapon.”
“Exactly,” I agreed with a nod. “Hopefully, it doesn’t turn out to have been an actual murder weapon. But the fact someone has gone to the effort to confiscate all of the boutonnieres makes it look like Bubba’s boutonniere truly was intended as such. I’m still hoping against hope that Bubba wakes up and pulls out of his coma.”
“Yes. Of course. This discovery definitely points toward foul play. Who’d ever conceive of using a boutonniere as a murder weapon?”
“I don’t know. But it begs the question of why all three were taken,” I added. “Could someone have been planning to take out all three groomsmen in the wedding party? And, if so, why?”
“Good grief!” Sheila exclaimed. “We really do need to notify the police department.”
I thought it over for a moment. “Not yet. First, let’s call Stone and tell him what we’ve discovered. If I call the police department, they will just scoff at my insistence that a murder was attempted and ―”
”― may still prove to have been successful.”
“Yes. But, I can guarantee you we’ll need more evidence than this to get the police department to investigate it. I don’t think my insistence that someone tried to kill the six-foot-eight best man with a flower will carry a lot of weight with the police chief. You’d think the department would appreciate all I’ve done to help them solve homicides in the past, but they don’t. On the contrary, they appear to resent my intervention.”
“Don’t you mean ‘interference’?” Sheila’s mocking question did not merit a response. She quickly evaluated my expression and backtracked. “I’m just kidding. I know how valuable you’ve been in solving murders in this town, and they really should have your picture up on the wall at the police station.”
I wanted to tell her they’d prefer to have it up on the wall at the post office under “Most Wanted”. Instead, I repeated my original suggestion. “I think it’s best if we discuss it with Stone first.”
“You’re probably right. I’m sure Stone will want to talk it over with the medical staff. They may be able to determine if any poison of the plant variety has actually been found in Bubba’s system. Should we drive over to the hospital, Lexie?”
“No. I’ll just call Stone to save some time. Then you and I need to make another visit to the floral shop.”
“Oh, boy. I was afraid you were going to say that.” Sheila rolled her eyes so dramatically, I was surprised they didn’t get stuck in that position, as my mother always told me mine would do if I kept crossing them.
I picked up one of the bridesmaid’s bouquets, which had been left behind, and held it up for Sheila to look at. “As you can see, the bouquets have baby’s breath in them.”
“I know, Lexie. B
ut I swear to you the boutonnieres did not. They had a different white flower than these in the bouquets.”
“Okay. I believe you. I’ve no reason to doubt your memory. It’s always been sharper than mine.”
“Well, I don’t know about―”
I interrupted Sheila’s attempt to placate me. “I have a plan.”
“I’m sure you do.” The sarcasm in her tone was not appreciated, and I told her so. I couldn’t help but grin as I scolded her, though.
Sheila laughed before executing the sign of the cross. I assumed she thought this would save our bacon in the event my plan took a bad turn, even though neither of us were Catholic. I looked at her in disbelief. “Seriously, Sheila?”
“I don’t think it can hurt us any. Let’s go do something foolish and test out that theory of yours about God protecting children and fools.”
And so off we dashed like moths to a front porch light and did exactly that. As it turned out, whether we proved the proverb right or wrong was a matter of opinion. Some would think what happened to the two of us that evening proved the adage was hogwash, while others would insist the fact we were still alive to debate the matter proved otherwise.
Thirty-Three
Speaking with Stone on the phone, I sensed he was distracted by activity at the hospital. Nevertheless, I told him about the disappearing boutonnieres and explained the toxic qualities of numerous different flowers, including the potent poison associated with palm of Christ, otherwise known as the castor oil plant. His responses were short, and I could tell the significance of Sheila’s and my discovery was not sinking in.
Understandably, Stone was more interested in the fact Bubba had been moved to a room because his condition remained unchanged and space in the ICU was in critical demand.
“Does that mean they’ve given up hope he’ll regain consciousness?” I asked when I realized he was too preoccupied to absorb what I’d been trying to tell him.
“I’m not sure what it means, but I’m not happy about it. The way I see it, he needs ’round the clock supervision. He’s certainly not going to get the attention he needs in a regular room.”
“I agree. So, anyway, Sheila and I are going to―”
“Oh, good. Here comes Dr. Schnuck. I need to talk to him right away.”
“Okay. But, as I was trying to tell you, Sheila and I are―”
“Gotta go, babe. You two do whatever you need to do. I’ll talk with you later.”
Before I could even respond, Stone had ended the call. But not before instructing Sheila and me to “do whatever we needed to do”, which was exactly what I’d hoped he’d say. Later the two of us could stop by the hospital and explain our concerns and recent discoveries to the medical staff. With any luck at all, we’d have more information to share by then.
When we entered Lily’s-in-Bloom Floral Shop, we heard Lily conversing with someone over the phone in her office. She was crying as she spoke, making it difficult to make out her words. “I feel so bad” and “running out of time” were the only phrases I could decipher. I also thought I heard her say “put a new diaper on the iguana”, but that’s neither here nor there.
Standing outside her office, we practically had our ears plastered to the glass partition next to the office door. When Lily looked up and noticed our presence, she laid her phone on her desk, walked to her door, and closed it. It was obvious we were trying to eavesdrop on her phone conversation.
“Well, crap!” I said. “I guess while we’re waiting, we can poke around the shop. We might accidentally stumble onto the missing boutonnieres.”
“You think she’d be stupid enough to sneak into the inn to steal them and then bring them back to her shop?” Sheila asked.
“Maybe it never occurred to her that a couple of master sleuths like us would show up to confront her about them. She likely never imagined anyone would put two and two together and come up with three. Three missing boutonnieres that might have been tampered with, that is.”
“Good point,” Sheila conceded. “She probably figured if anyone even noticed the three boutonnieres were missing, they’d assume they’d been discarded and never give them a second thought.”
We wandered around the shop, searching in every nook and cranny, to no avail. I turned to Sheila. “Most likely, if she did hijack the boutonnieres and bring them back here, she’d have hidden them somewhere rather than set them out in plain sight. Wouldn’t you think?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. You don’t think she’d try to preserve them for some reason, do you?”
“I would think that’s the last thing she’d do. Why do you ask?”
“Because,” Sheila began, “if she wanted to preserve them, she’d probably put them in the cooler. I think every floral shop has a cooler for preserving cut flowers and arrangements. Do you know where it’d be?”
“Yes.” I pointed to the far corner of the shop. “When Lariat and I met Wendy here to order the wedding flowers, Raven told me there was a floral cooler across from the restroom. When I walked back there, I saw a metal door at the end of the hallway.”
We walked to the cooler and after opening its heavy metal door, discovered it was about eight by ten feet in diameter. The entire compartment was galvanized steel, reminding me of the vault at our local bank. The shelving that lined the inside perimeter of the cooler held loose flowers, already constructed floral arrangements, vases of roses still in their bud stage, and other floral items. The aroma from the cooler was almost nauseating. I’m sure the fragrance of each individual flower was heavenly, but the cumulative effect was anything but.
Leaving the door open, we entered the cooler and began to search the shelves. We’d been looking for no more than two minutes when Sheila exclaimed, “Look! I found them. All three of them.”
“Awesome. That’s all the proof we need that Lily perpetrated the assault on Bubba.”
“Exactly.” Sheila clapped her hands in excitement. “Let’s go confront her. When we present this evidence to her, there’s no way she can deny her involvement.”
Thirty-Four
Just as I reached for the three boutonnieres that had been placed in a see-through plastic box like you might find at a grocery store’s salad bar, the door closed behind us. I rushed over and tried to open it, but found it locked. I banged on the door and hollered, “Hey! Open the door! It’s locked, and we’re trapped in here.”
I stopped yelling and waited for the door to open. I might as well have been waiting for fossil fuel to turn back into dinosaur bones. I slammed my fist against the door several more times, yelling, “Help! Help us!”
Finally, Sheila grabbed my fist mid-slam and said, “No one’s coming, Lexie. No one outside the shop could possibly hear us from inside this cooler. And if anyone is in the shop, they’d have surely heard you by now and let us out. And Lily would let us out if she hadn’t closed the door intentionally to trap us in here in the first place.”
“Do you really think she did this on purpose?” I had known the answer without even asking, but hoped Sheila would have a reassuring response. I needed her to say something positive to calm my rapidly increasing hysteria, because my claustrophobia was beginning to kick in full force. No such luck.
“No, I think it was a gust of wind that blew it shut.”
I looked at Sheila to see if she was serious. There had been no open windows or doors in the floral shop. Sheila picked up the plastic box filled with half-wilted boutonnieres, and said, “Duh. Of course she did it on purpose. She knew we were in here snooping around. If she had something incriminating to hide, like these boutonnieres, and knew we were on to her, she might have figured she had nothing to lose.”
“True,” I replied. “Especially if she’d already attempted to kill Bubba, and might still end up being successful. I’m sure she never intended to harm Raven, but couldn’t have imagined Raven would end up with her nose practically buried in Bubba’s boutonniere as she tried to breathe life back into him.”
On the inside of the door, we noticed a small keypad. The light on top glowed red, which, according to the legend on the bottom of the box, indicated the door lock had been activated. It also indicated that to override the system, we merely needed to punch in the four-digit pass code.
“No problem,” I said. “There’re only something like ten thousand possible combinations. You try the first five thousand, then I’ll take over and finish up the last half.”
“Not funny,” Sheila said. “Let’s try some of the obvious choices, like 0-0-0-0, 1-2-3-4, and so forth. The address here on Sycamore Street is 1-4-1-9. Try that.”
“All right.” After punching in the four digits, I said, “Nope.”
“Lily on a phone dial would be 7-4-7-9.”
“Okay…nope.”
As Sheila listed off potential codes, I tried each one. Each time I tried, the light on top of the keypad flashed yellow, returning to red once the mechanism reset itself. After the sixth or seventh failed attempt, I said, “We might be in for a long night.”
“It’s four-thirty in the afternoon,” Sheila said. “I wonder how long the oxygen in this cooler will last. Worse, I wonder how long it’ll take before the CO2 level gets too high to be safe. We might be in for a shorter night than you think.”
So much for hoping Sheila would have reassuring words to share with me. Just thinking that we might have a limited supply of oxygen to sustain us, and a limited time before an elevated carbon dioxide level killed us, caused me to hyperventilate. Now it was I who felt like I had a Brussels sprout lodged in my windpipe.
“What (gasp) are we going to (gasp) do?” I asked. “I already can’t catch my (gasp) breath.”
“That’s just your imagination in overdrive, Lexie. We must have at least a few hours’ worth of oxygen in here before it begins to get difficult to breathe. Try to relax. Take deep breaths and exhale slowly. In the meantime, I’ll continue to punch in random four-digit codes. Who knows? I might get lucky and pick the code that unlocks the door.”