Mulch Ado About Nothing

freak. I didn't say that outright—'

“I know. I was eavesdropping.'

“I suspect she just needed parental guidance.' 'You and I both know how well that goes over with teenagers.'

“But they need it, even though they'd never in the world admit it. Teenagers love a good fight, especially when it has to do with their taste or friends or appearance. This poor Kipsy only got slightly haughty twice. That's a very low average.'

“You're a stranger to her. And you can be scary.'

“Only when I'm trying,' Shelley said. 'But as for being a stranger, all the more reason she was entitled to be rude to me. But she wasn't. You know, I think it's possible her mother doesn't really care what she does or how she looks. So she tries a little tattoo. Mom doesn't say anything. So then she pierces her nose and Mom doesn't notice. So she dyes her hair a perfectly awful color—'

“Are you really trying to figure her out? She might have a devoted mother who cries herself to sleep for failing with this girl. The mother might have other daughters who are model kids and can't figure out where Kipsy went wrong.”

Shelley considered this. 'You could be right.'

“Say that again,' Jane said, pretending to swoon. 'I hear it so seldom. That roast is sure smelling great. Can you stay and eat it with us?'

“I wish I could. Paul's sister Constanza is coming to dinner.”

Jane made an X in the air with her fingers. 'Too bad. Has she searched your house lately?'

“Not that I know of. But she's gone to some diet that involves a lot of sprouts and pasta, and the only meat she can eat is veal and chicken. Skinned and broiled without fat.'

“Last month it was only tofu and veggies, wasn't it? Speaking of which, what did you think of Ursula's garden?' Jane asked.

“I hate to admit this, but there were things I liked. If the marble fountain had been clear blue marbles instead of garish colors and maybe foil behind it, it would have been a knockout. I've been thinking of trying to find someone to make me one.'

“Wish I'd seen it. I liked the statues. Especially the elegant lady in copper. And I think Miss Winstead admired some of the yard herself. I saw her taking notes.'

“You seemed uneasy with Miss Winstead toward the end of lunch,' Shelley said.

“I'd said too much of what Mel told us. I felt guilty about shooting off my mouth. Then a little alarmed when she wanted me to keep her up on what other theories he was coming up with.'

“That was peculiar of her, come to think of it. And so was her opinion that we thought Ms. Jackson's attacker was someone in the class.”

Jane was silent for a long moment. 'But — what if it was?”

Thirteen

“why would it make any sense that the attacker was one of the class?' Shelley asked.

She and Jane were getting hungry smelling the roast cooking and had gone outside to sit on Jane's patio. The heavy rains predicted for the rest of the day had stopped and it was cool and damp and reasonably comfortable outdoors.

“It could be one of them, I guess,' Jane said, looking sadly at her backyard. Max and Meow were sitting side by side, studying the field behind the house for signs of movement. If another developer built houses there instead of going bankrupt before even starting, the cats would be bereft. The grass needed mowing, and there was a permanent path in a semicircle where Willard had been running back and forth for years from gate to gate, barking his fool head off at the mailman. There were even some dead leaves of tulips Jane had never gotten around to gathering up and disposing of. Her yard was really a disgrace.

“But it could be anyone else as well,' Shelley argued. 'Someone in her family, her profession, maybe a neighbor she'd had a falling-out with. For that matter, it could be a complete stranger, or a drug-crazed lunatic who was randomly testing back doors for one that was open.'

“The lunatic would have stolen what was on the ground floor and fled,' Jane said.

“Maybe or maybe not,' Shelley argued, mainly for the purpose of arguing. 'If he heard somebody moving around in the basement, he might have gone straight down and attacked Ms. Jackson for no reason whatsoever. Someone seriously into drugs might have thought that was a good idea.'

“I suppose with enough drugs, anybody might think anything is a good idea,' Jane responded, but wasn't considering the theory seriously and she doubted Shelley was either.

Shelley said, 'What if it was Dr. Eastman who attacked her?”

Jane turned to look at her. 'What would be the point of that?”

Shelley shrugged. 'His name just came to mind because he's the instructor who replaced her. Maybe he has a crazy need to publicize himself and his marigolds.”

Jane replied, 'I'm sure he, like Julie, is asked to give a lot of talks to groups. Probably more than he wants to do. And the marigolds aren't even on sale for a couple more years, he said.'

“I was thinking about what Miss Winstead said about him.”

Jane thought a moment. 'Do you suppose her version is the whole truth?'

“I wondered that as well,' Shelley admitted. 'But Eastman is obviously a man determined to get ahead. Promote himself. Make lots of money. Maybe what he really wants is fame.'

“He is a difficult man to like. But I don't think any of these theories hold water.”

Shifting gears, Shelley asked, 'Mel hasn't been around much, has he?'

“He's busy with three different cases at once,' Jane said. 'He's been calling me at intervals, but I haven't actually laid eyes on him for a couple days.'

“Has he told you anything more about Julie Jackson?'

“He's being silent as the grave about it. Says things are coming along in the investigation.”

Shelley took a sip of her iced tea she'd brought along in a big, remarkably ugly purple plastic carafe. 'Doesn't want us meddling in a neighborhood crime?”

Jane nodded. 'I guess so. But we've been so much help to him before, you'd think he'd appreciate our skills,' she said with a wry smile.

The door of a vehicle slammed in Shelley's driveway and she got up, saying, 'Just a minute. I'll be back.”

It was actually fifteen minutes before Shelley got back, saying, 'That was the garden place.' 'What garden place?'

“The one where your Mike works. I called them out to spruce up my yard.'

“Shelley!' Jane exclaimed. 'That's cheating! The class is coming to our yards the same day. You're going to show off and make me look even worse.'

“You could have thought of it,' Shelley said calmly. 'Come see what they've done.”

The formerly rather bland backyard had two young men mowing and using a Weed Eater around the edges of the lawn. A multitude of gorgeous plants in planters of every variety were sitting around the edge of the patio. A replica of an old-fashioned wooden wheelbarrow was full of yellow nasturtiums; a large watering can spilled out purple petunias. There was a cupid statue surrounded by little pots of lobelia, and about ten of those fake pottery pots that look real were scattered artfully about. From one pot sprouted a trellis covered with a coral wild rose. Tall spikes of veronica were next to the rose, and there was a huge pot of dark red sunflowers the color of good burgundy. Verbena was tucked in between, filling the gaps between the large pots.

Jane gaped at the transformation. 'You — you! You don't even know what most of this is. How are you going to take care of this?'

“Easy. I just water for a couple days and when the garden tour is over, these nice boys come back and take it all away.'

“You RENTED a garden?'

“Why not? It wasn't all that expensive. And it was easy. One plant catalog and one phone call.' Jane glared at her friend. 'I was just going to send Mike out with the pooper-scooper and a lawn mower the night before, and keep the cats inside so they didn't leave mangled chipmunks on the patio. I even considered getting a tablecloth for