Mulch Ado About Nothing

obsession. Even an old-fashioned rouge tin was sitting on the sink counter.

She glanced out the bathroom window. Everyone was assembled in Arnie's backyard. Everyone but Dr. Eastman. As she exited the bathroom, she noticed the bedroom doors to each side were open and couldn't resist just peeking, without going in them.

The one to the right was lovely but a bit cluttered. There was a gardening book with a bookmark in it on one of the night tables. A sparkling green water carafe with the equally clean glass turned over the top. The carafe was sweating slightly. Did Arnie really refill it with ice water every day for Darlene?

The bedspread was dark floral patterns with wide green stripes. Very neat, but very faded. The matching pillows were piled at the headboard. The one on what Jane assumed was Darlene's side was still a deep green. Arnie's was faded.

Dear Lord, he still had her pillow exactly as she'd left it all those years ago!

When Jane's husband died so ignobly, one of the first things she did was get rid of the bedding and pillows and treat herself to something she liked. What a difference.

She stepped carefully to the other side of the small hall and glanced in what probably was once the guest room, now an office with a computer and desks and bookshelves. She was tempted to go in and see what the titles were, but resisted the impulse. She didn't want to be that snoopy.

This room obviously had few reminders of the wife. It was probably the only part of the house that was really Arnie's own turf. There were a couple of awards of some kind on a shelf, several blurred news clippings with pictures of firefighters in action on the bulletin board, and the same kind of paintings on the walls. A pile of paperwork with colored folders sticking out here and there was next to the computer. There was an old-fashioned brass stand ashtray by a butt-sprung leather chair with a reading light behind it. One cigar butt was in it. This was probably the only place Arnie smoked.

It's none of your business, she told herself fiercely as she headed back down the steps.

At least she was cheered by the fact that one room was strictly Arnie's and apparently well used. It seemed he actually had a few interests of his own. The computer, the memories of his life as a firefighter. Maybe he went out from time to time to visit old comrades or drop by the fire station itself and tell stories to the young men and women about the 'good old times.' Or cook some of their meals from his wife's recipes.

She glanced in the living room as she passed. An old television, a rocking chair with a pink sweater still hanging over one arm, a half-finished afghan spilling from a bright yellow bag of yarn by the side. Oh, Arnie, she thought. Let her go, please let her go.

She passed through the kitchen to the back door without even looking at what treasures of Darlene's were still there, except to accidentally notice a row of little ceramic pots on the windowsill with struggling, leggy violets with yellowing leaves.

Arnie was standing outside the kitchen door when she opened it. 'Did you make it okay up and down the stairs?”

Jane was determined to be cheerful. 'I only bashed out three of the banister rails with my crutch. Just kidding. I didn't break anything.”

She joined the rest of the group, hoping to prove to herself and the others that she could get around perfectly well. Arnie's garden was truly pathetic, even though there were signs of hard work going into it. A wheelbarrow sat at the edge of the patio with garden tools. A large sturdy wastebasket was bulging with weeds. But the poor plants were a mess. The gardens had probably been wonderful five or six years ago, but were as dusty and preserved as almost everything she'd seen in his home.

“You must divide the perennials, Arnie,' Miss Winstead was saying. 'Start with those Japanese irises. I'm astonished they've survived without division. They grow the first year out of one bunch of tubers and put next year's growth outside the circle of the plant. That's why all the clumps have holes in the middle. Take them up, cut the tubers in pie-shaped pieces, take out the dead middle, and start them over in well-turned soil.'

“But that's where my wife wanted them,' he objected.

“Of course,' Miss Winstead said as authoritatively as always. 'But take them out, cut them up, work in some compost and peat, and put a few of them back in and give the rest to friends. Do that every third year and they'll thrive.”

Arnie looked questioningly at the irises. Jane assumed he was wondering if this plan could possibly fit in with his plans to honor his wife's garden. Jane hoped so.

She wandered around a bit, trying to keep up with the others as they moved around the perimeter of the yard where all the gardens were. Darlene had obviously loved bachelor buttons, and Arnie had let them self-seed for years. Poor things were leggy and the colors had cross-bred into murky light purples and blues, unlike fresh seeds with their vivid colors.

A huge peony bush that was finished blooming was falling away from its center, though Arnie had tried to prop up the desperate yellowing foliage with little green sticks. She mentally repeated Miss Winstead's advice to dig it up and divide it. Even Jane knew that was what you did with a peony that had run amok.

Piles of old bark mulch lined a cement path and looked as if they'd crumble to dust if stepped on or even touched. Some unidentifiable straggle of plants with stingy foliage and pitiful little faded coral pom-pomlike flowers were struggling along in the ancient bark.

Miss Winstead was lecturing Arnie again toward the back of the yard. 'Those would be beautiful white lilies if you divided them as well. They've crowded themselves almost to death and you've let a tree grow here that shades them. They like lots of sun. See that one over there that managed to self-seed itself into a patch of light? That one's perfection.'

“That's the same kind of lily I sent Dr. Jackson,' Stefan said, strolling up to Arnie and Miss Winstead. 'I'd almost forgotten I did that. I wonder if her sister got the arrangement.”

Shelley and Jane suddenly locked gazes of astonishment.

Stefan seemed to be admitting that he sent the flowers with the threatening note that was accidentally delivered to Jane's house the morning Julie was attacked. Shelley slipped away casually to the front of the house with her tiny cell phone in her hand, glancing back only once and nodding at Jane.

Jane had the urge to question Stefan, but knew Mel would have a stroke if he learned of her interference. She frantically asked Miss Winstead if the lily in question had a name.

“I imagine it's Casa Blanca. Just smell it. It has a divine fragrance. Watch your step, Jane. You nearly fell into the hostas. Aren't the stamens spectacular. Such a good yellow-orange.”

Jane remembered trying to get that color off her face when she and Shelley were taking the flowers to Dr. Julie Jackson's house.

Stefan suggested that maybe they could fit Mrs. Nowack and Mrs. Jeffry in today since theystarted so early in the day. Shelly and Jane were appalled. 'Oh, no!' Shelley exclaimed. 'I have to take a bunch of teenage girls to their cooking lessons. And Jane has an appointment. That's why we were so glad to be able to do the tours early.”

Jane was nodding and feeling a bit as if she looked like Dr. Eastman's housekeeper, bobbing in agreement. But she was thinking frantically that Mike hadn't even mowed the yard yet and Willard had been out there since the last poop scooping.

Sensing that this was adjournment, everyone thanked Arnie and Stefan for letting them come see their gardens and moved in a disordered clump to the front of the house — just as a police car and a little red sports car stopped in front of Arnie's house. Mel got out of the car and a large uniformed officer lumbered out of the police vehicle.

Arnie was standing on the porch, waving good-bye to everyone, when he spotted the two interlopers and grabbed the porch rail to steady himself.

“Are you Arnold Waring?' Mel asked.

“Yes.'

“And is one of your guests Stefan Eckert?”

Arnie pointed a shaking finger toward Stefan, who realized they were looking for him. He strolled over and said, 'Have I parked in a place I shouldn't?'

“No, we would just like to ask you some questions. Would you mind coming with us?”

Stefan only looked slightly alarmed. He was more confused than scared. 'May I ask what this is about?' But