Deadly Arrangements (Book Two in the Cozy Flower Shop Mystery Series) (The Flower Shop Mystery Series) Read online

  Mr. Busby slapped his papers against the open palm of his other hand. “Jack, don’t you interrupt me, it’s my turn to talk. I know that you've made a pretty penny what with all these speaking engagements and touring all over the blasted world." Whispers spread throughout the crowd and people’s heads turned toward the speaker. "You want all these people to believe that you didn't get any photographs, and that you were all alone when you sighted this bird?"

  "Yes, I do. I tried to take a photo, but I went to point and click, the darned thing went dark. My battery was dead. Terrible timing, I know. But that's Murphy's Law, isn't it?" He attempted a weak laugh and held his hands out as if imploring the crowd, begging for sympathy, which garnered a few snickers.

  A tall, slender man with a beak-like nose hurried up to the mic-stand and put his arm around Mr. Busby's shoulders. “Now, Harold…” Busby tried to shrug off the taller man’s arm.

  "You're not going to get away with this, Conway! You’re practically a millionaire because of this lie, and I will go to my grave letting the world know that you are a charlatan—a snake-oil salesman." Busby's face had evolved to a frightening shade of fuchsia. The MC came to the podium and tried to change the subject by thanking Mr. Conway. While the crowd applauded half-heartedly, the tall man pulled Mr. Busby away from the microphone and led him toward the hallway exit.

  "Well that was exciting, eh, Boss?" K.C. jabbed me in the ribs with a little too much force. “Nothing like a little showdown to give the lecture some juice. What did you think, Fred?"

  "Old Busby's just sore. He's been in our bird club for years. His father was a founding member. I'm going to go see if Gordo needs help with Busby. In fact, I've got to talk to Gordon about that meeting we're going to have tomorrow morning. I'll catch a ride with him, sweetums. You girls go on and have dinner without me."

  "But Fred,” K.C. said, “we're going to your friend's restaurant so we can try it out for the rehearsal dinner."

  "I know, my sweet, but I've already eaten there many times and can vouch for the place. I really have to talk to Gordon about this meeting. It's about," Fred glanced at me and smiled, then nodded his head toward K.C., "the thing I spoke about earlier, concerning Brock."

  "Oh, yes, that. Well, Quincy I guess we ride stag tonight then. Alright with you?"

  "Of course." I tried to ignore the cloak and dagger nature of Fred and K.C.’s conversation since it wasn’t any of my business, but the mention of Brock’s name was cause for some speculation. I just couldn’t help it. Brock was Jenny McQueen’s fiancé. I was curious as to why Fred would’ve mentioned him.

  Brock and Jenny had met at the office, in a manner of speaking. Brock worked for the state Wildlife Management Bureau at the marsh, and Jenny was a marine biologist. They crossed paths in a salt water infused pond surrounded by brine flies and lake-stink. Such a recipe for romance! Despite the odd location of their first meeting, they were a truly sweet and loving couple. As were K.C. and Fred.

  I decided I was almost glad Alex had come up with other plans for the night. K.C. and I could have a girls’ night out where we could talk about all the fun parts of the wedding, and we wouldn’t have to worry that we were boring poor Fred, who would never risk telling K.C. he didn’t especially care about the wedding plans. He just wanted her to be happy, even if that meant sitting through hours of discussions about dresses, flowers and hairstyles.

  But tonight, he wouldn’t have to. I pushed thoughts of Alex out of mind as best I could and looked forward to a fun time with K.C.

  ***

  We took K.C.’s little car to the restaurant in Salt Lake. "Hey, kiddo. Thanks so much for coming with me tonight. It was mighty nice of you to let Alex meet his buddy without making a fuss. You sure you're alright with me pinch-hitting?"

  "I had plans to go with you to begin with. And I'm glad Alex gets to see his old friend," I said, hoping I sounded convincing.

  "That's very sweet of you. I know I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of Fred if he had been gone like that. Hell, he hasn't gone anywhere and we still light the house on fire most every night. It seemed like you two were getting pretty close by the time he had to leave. I don't want to pry, but I assumed you two might be doing the hokey-pokey by now."

  "Wh…" Suddenly there was a blockage in my throat and I couldn’t quit coughing. That song would never have the same meaning to me again. I tried to think of something—anything—that would keep me from imagining Fred and K.C. doing their version of that dance…ooh too late.

  "There's nothing to be embarrassed about kiddo. It's a fact of life. It's just what nature intended for two consenting adults." She alternated her grip on the steering wheel as she talked with her hands, carrying on as if we were chatting about everyday things like the deliveries at work or how to make a rose arrangement.

  "I really don't think we should be…"

  "Shoot, I'm being insensitive to your predicament. You must have had an awful experience with that ex of yours. I wouldn't blame you for being a little gun shy, but you've got to get back up on that horse and ride 'im, if you know what I mean." Oh, I knew what she meant. How could anyone not know what she meant? "And you don't just have any old horse. You've got a fine stallion to mount…"

  "Okay, K.C." I interrupted before I had to jump from the moving car to escape.

  "I know—I know. I get carried away sometimes. But men aren't like you and me, Boss. They can't live without it. They have to have sex to survive, or at least to be tolerable. That's just the plain facts. I know you might be stuck in first gear because of the nasty ogre ex, but now you've got to move forward for both of your sake's. If you don't make your move, there's a lineup of cowgirls that snakes all the way around the block. They'll be knocking down his door for that bareback ride any chance they get."

  Blegh.

  When she actually used the word sex, it all just seemed so dirty. And then she threw cowgirls and snakes and bareback into the mental picture.

  Double blegh.

  But she was right about the competition. Anywhere I went with Alex, women stared at him, but I hadn't worried about it because he never returned their looks. He kept his attention on me.

  “How did this restaurant make the list?” I asked, desperate for a subject change.

  “Fred is a friend of one of the owners. They’re supposed to be ultra-cheek…”

  “Do you mean chic?” I said.

  “That’s what I said—you know, the place to be for anyone who’s anyone. I’m sure their prices are sky-high too, but Fred said his friend wants to give us a deal for a wedding present.”

  “That’s fantastic. Do you think we’re dressed appropriately for such a nice place?” I wasn’t wearing sweatpants, but I’d chosen a more casual top with khaki’s and gathered my hair in a simple ponytail when I found out I wouldn’t be needing to fix it up for Alex.

  “You look cute as a kitten. What I wouldn’t give to be as tall and slender as you. I rather like what I’m wearing. I think we look like two fashionable gals out on the town.” K.C. sported a red floral print, ankle-length prairie skirt with a white knit top, a matching red scarf tied 1950’s sock hop style, around her neck and her latest fashion statement, a hunter green Fedora she called her traveling cap, which she wore every time she drove her car or Zombie Sue.

  We walked into the lobby and were instantly enveloped in a magical atmosphere. Rich tapestries and gauzy gold and purple sheer curtains flowed through the lobby and into the rest of the restaurant. Statues of camels and lions presided over every room. Furniture of dark, heavily carved wood and jewel-toned fabric dotted different spaces, while world beat music streamed throughout. Human electricity filled the air.

  "This place is fantastic," I said after we’d been seated. "I hope the food is as great as the atmosphere."

  The five-course prix fix menu offered numerous temptations for the palate. I didn’t recognize the names of most of the things on the menu, but decided I could trust the restaurant, judging by th
e looks on the other diners’ faces. Shortly after the first course of butternut cream soup was served, K.C. and I got down to business comparing notes about her wedding plans. I also told her about my surprise at the dress shop earlier that day.

  "I bet you had a grin on your face after that. How did he look after being gone that long? A sight for sore eyes, I'm sure."

  A warm fluttering commenced in my chest as I thought about our embrace and his hair and the way his awful, scraggly beard tickled my cheek. "He looked…"

  "Say no more, chickadee. I can tell what the answer is by the look on your face. That good, huh?"

  I knew I was blushing and couldn't help but smile.

  "He is quite a fella,” she said. “And you're quite a gal. I see a rosy future for the two of you.” K.C. scoured the room. “Gosh, there are so many interesting people here. I would love to be a fly on the wall to hear some of the conversations. Look over there to my left."

  K.C. jerked her head in the direction she was talking about, probably thinking she was being subtle. In reality, she’d done a full body jerk, her blond bob flipped so sharply to the side it looked like she was in a shampoo commercial. She teetered on the edge of her chair after her weight shift and grabbed the table to avoid falling over.

  Subtlety would rarely be a quality one would suggest when describing Karma Clackerton.

  I waited until she righted herself and smoothed her hair. "What about them?"

  “Phew. Who are we talking about?”

  “The couple you just pointed out. On your left,” I said.

  "I bet he's in the mafia, and she's a femme-fah-tally," she whispered.

  I didn’t correct her mispronunciation of femme-fatale. "The Utah mafia, K.C.?" I rolled my eyes and we both had a laugh.

  The entrées arrived and I tried to show some restraint instead of gulping down the delectable food. I’d chosen Provo River trout with crab and citrus couscous. K.C. had the Summit County filet of beef with garlic whipped potatoes.

  “This beef just melts in your mouth,” K.C. said. “I think I might have to come here for dinner every night.”

  All I could do was nod, as my mouth was never without a bite of my entrée.

  Between mouthfuls of food and exclamations of appreciation for the meal, we compared notes about the wedding and coordinating plans with Danny, my good friend and fellow florist. Even though he was a competitor, we helped each other out and came to each other’s rescue when needed. K.C.’s wedding would be large enough that I needed the extra help, and Danny was the event specialist. His help with the wedding would allow me to participate in the festivities. That wouldn’t be possible if I was doing it all on my own.

  K.C. had pretty much given me and Danny carte blanche on everything concerning the florals and décor. Previously, we’d all brainstormed ideas for incorporating symbols of both K.C.’s Dutch and Fred’s Scottish heritage, and K.C. had injected some of her own unique but wonderful ideas that reflected her distinct personality.

  The palate-cleansing cheese course was next, which almost could’ve have been served as dessert. Almost—but I’d rather miss my own wedding than miss dessert in this restaurant.

  "Now there's a nice looking couple," K.C. said.

  "Where?" I asked.

  "Behind you, by the partition. Don’t look! You can’t see them from where you are. If you look it’ll be obvious," said the queen of obvious.

  "What's so nice about them?"

  "It looks like he's a real gentleman. He pulled her chair out for her. And she looks at him like she really likes him. Actually, they remind me a lot of you and your beau."

  "Oh, really?" I said.

  "She looks like she could be your long lost twin—except for the breasts. Hers are much bigger than yours.”

  Of course they are.

  "Oh, isn't that sweet," K.C. said as she looked over my shoulder. "You can tell she really likes him. And she's good."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean she knows her way around a man. She reaches for something on the table just as he does so that their hands meet by accident. Wink, wink.” She literally winked with her whole face as she said it. “She touches his forearm then laughs lightly as they talk. Oh my hell, I think she might have just grabbed his leg under the table. You should take some pointers from her. Learn how to really make your man growl."

  “K.C.!”

  “What?” She shrugged and continued eating.

  I had no problem making Alex growl—or interested—or well, I mean happy in that way. Right? I recalled him suggesting we slow things down, not me. But maybe I had unintentionally been throwing off those silent delay signals. Apparently K.C. had picked up on them too.

  I was deep into a dish of self-doubt by the time the dessert arrived. I’d been thinking how I wished I’d gone with Alex to meet his friend, no offense to my present company. We could have had dinner, said goodbye to his friend, gone to his place and…yikes. I was getting ideas.

  “You okay, Boss?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re all flushed. Your cheeks look like my bare shoulders after ten minutes in the sun.”

  I shoved a bite of warm Tarte Tatin in my mouth, “Mmm, I’m fine. It’s just this dessert.” It really was that good, but not the cause of my elevated heartbeat and sudden sweat. The homemade vanilla bean ice cream helped to cool things down.

  K.C. spotted Fred’s friend at the maître d’s station and went to express her delight with the restaurant and confirm her desire to book the rehearsal dinner there. I followed just behind her. As she spoke with the man, I surveyed the other guests in the room and my eyes stopped, along with my heart, on one couple in particular.

  K.C. was right. They were a lovely couple. And half of that lovely couple was a still-bearded, suit-clad man with a death-wish named Alex Cooper. The other half was a woman who looked very much like me. Obviously tall, even though seated, her long, platinum blond hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned toward Alex to talk. Her sapphire blue wrap-around dress clung to all the right places and plunged so far down in the front, I could see her navel lint from across the room.

  I tugged at K.C.’s arm before she got away from me. "I think I'm going to be sick."

  “What’s the matter, kid? Is it the food?” she whispered. “Please don’t tell me it’s the food. I love this place.”

  “No,” I whispered back. “That couple you thought was so cute, that looked like Alex and me, is Alex and sluttier me.”

  The corners of K.C.’s mouth turned down and she squinted. “Well I’ll be snookered. I thought you said he was with an old work pal.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “There’s only one way to find out what’s going on. Come with me.” She grabbed my wrist and yanked me in the direction of their table. I couldn’t protest in the restaurant without making a scene.

  “K.C.!” Alex exclaimed. “What a surprise. What are you doing here?” He stood in the presence of the lady. What a gentleman. “Congratulations on the engagement.” He encircled her for a hug and his eyes grew huge as he saw me standing behind her.

  “Quincy?”

  “Alex.” I looked at him coolly then turned my gaze toward the woman at the table.

  “What—are you two doing here?” he asked.

  “I was just wondering the exact same thing,” I said. K.C. still had a grasp on my wrist and she squeezed hard enough to give me carpal tunnel syndrome.

  “Easy cowgirl,” she whispered over her shoulder.

  I stepped up to the table, slapped a barely passable smile on my face, and extended my hand to the other woman. "Hi, I'm Quincy McKay."

  "Samantha Ross," she said as she shook my hand. Ah, the old friend from California, “Sam.” Silly me to have assumed Alex's old cop buddy was a man. But he certainly hadn't gone out of his way to make a clear distinction about “Sam’s” gender.

  "Sam, this is Quincy and K.C." Alex motioned for us to sit down at their four-top table. “Quincy
owns a flower shop and K.C. is her driver. I just found out today that K.C. is getting married."

  I owned a flower shop? Is that all I was to him? A flower shop owner?

  "Oh congratulations," Sam said sweetly. She exuded confidence. And sex appeal. A lot of sex appeal. "So, Quincy—is it?" I nodded and smiled ever so sweetly back at her. "How do you two know each other?"

  Everyone looked at Alex, who despite having his mouth open, said nothing. Obviously he hadn't told her about us. I mean, why should he? Having dinner with a woman like that didn't lead to a man talking about his girl—friend, or female friend, or whatever kind of friend I was.

  I was the kind of friend he was ready to sleep with, just not the kind he could remember to mention to an old "friend from work."

  “We, um—well we…” he stammered.

  My jaw dropped open. What was his hold up?

  "I’ve ridden in his police car a time or two,” I said in the most provocative voice I could manage. Unfortunately, the only model for inspiration that came to mind was Ginger from Gilligan’s Island. “Oh, and I stayed in his jail once."

  She looked me up and down then laughed dismissively. Apparently I didn’t come across as a street walker or stranded Hollywood actress. I returned her fake laugh and smiled. Everyone was laughing and smiling…smiling and laughing…the muscles in my face ached from smiling so much. Then I looked at Alex and dropped the smile.

  "You know, Alex," K.C. said in an obvious attempt to cut the tension, "Fred asked me if I thought you would be interested in being a member of the wedding party. And I thought that was a swell idea. He's really developed quite the man crush for you after everything you've done for all of us."

  "Wow, that's flattering, K.C. I would be honored."

  "Fred will give you a call now that you're back in town."

  After that, the uncomfortable silence settled down into the spaces between us.

  "So what brings you to town, Samantha—was it?" I said, and then looked over at Alex again.

  "Please, call me Sam. I'm in town for a law enforcement symposium. I knew Alex had moved out here to a quaint little city, so I sent him an email a while ago asking if we could meet up and talk about old times. We've had plenty to catch up on, haven't we, Alex?"