“Thanks.” She couldn’t seem to come up with more than one word at a time. He looked even better today than she remembered. She loved the sound of his voice and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
“Which way are you going?” he finally asked after a few minutes.
“I thought I’d go this way.”
They walked together, stopping to staple a flyer on each pole. Peggy held up the paper, and Steve stapled it. Traffic moved quickly past them. Saturday afternoon shoppers and soccer moms whizzed by in SUVs and minivans.
“Do you know how the investigation’s going on that man who was found dead in your shop?”
Peggy explained about the police picking up Mr. Cheever and visiting the jail. “I know he didn’t do it. But the police won’t look for anyone else with him in custody.”
Steve stapled another flyer. “That was pretty cool that you got into the jail to talk to him. It’s too bad he didn’t see what happened.”
She didn’t elaborate on the woman Mr. Cheever saw running out of the shop. She needed a chance to sit down with Keeley before she told anyone else about that. “I wish there was something more I could do to help him.”
“Unless you get a confession from the real killer,” Steve considered, “it doesn’t look good for him.”
Peggy realized they’d come to an intersection. She could see the Warners’ front door from where she was standing. “I think I’ll take a flyer to a friend’s house over there. Maybe she knows something about the dog.”
He studied the house. “Unless the pictures on the nightly news are distorted, that’s Mark Warner’s house. Doing a little investigating?”
“Maybe. A little. I know Julie Warner. She came to the shop the other night. I thought I might stop in for a cup of tea.”
“Maybe I should go with you. You might need someone to distract her while you look through her garbage for the murder weapon.”
She laughed. “You watch too much TV. Besides, the police already have the murder weapon.”
“Does that mean you’d rather I didn’t go with you?”
“Of course not!” She took a deep breath and slowed down. “If you’d like to come along, that’s fine.”
Julie and Mark Warner had a huge estate on a full five acres of parkland. The house had over fifty rooms. They had two children, a son and a daughter. Everything they did was the envy of every society-minded woman in town. Probably even down to Mark’s untimely demise.
They walked right up to the front door of the mellow redbrick Georgian-style house. It was decorated with an elaborate wreath made from magnolia and holly leaves, trimmed with acorns and pinecones. Peggy admired it, then used the heavy brass door knocker.
A tall, thin Hispanic woman answered. “Miss Julie is out for the day. Making funeral arrangements.”
“What a terrible thing this has been for her,” Peggy sympathized. “I hated to bother her. I thought I could ask her help, and it might take her mind off of everything for a few minutes.”
“Maybe I could help. What is it?”
Peggy showed the flyer to the housekeeper. “Have you heard anything about this, Emma? Your name is Emma, isn’t it? I think I remember you from the last time I was here.”
The woman smiled. “Yes. And you’re Mrs. Lee from the garden shop, right?”
“That’s right! You were here the day I came to look at Julie’s delphinium. It was breathtaking, wasn’t it?”
“It was. She has such a gift for growing things.” Emma shivered. “But come inside out of the cold. Is this Mr. Lee?”
Peggy assured her that it wasn’t and introduced Steve to the housekeeper.
“Come in, come in. I know Mrs. Warner would want me to fix you some tea since you’re here. Dr. Newsome, maybe you can take a look at my cat. She’s been sick for a few days.”
Everyone knew Julie Warner did her own decorating. She had exquisite taste and style. Her house was a mandatory stop for house and garden tours. It was her crowning achievement. Crystal chandeliers shimmered in the sunshine coming in from sparkling windows. Everything in the house was from the early 1900s or a faithful reproduction, from the rugs underfoot to the tapestries on the wall. Above the fireplace was a life-sized portrait of Julie with her children.
“How’s she holding up?” Peggy asked while Emma poured each of them tea in pristine white cups. The strong aroma told her it was a blend of pekoe and hibiscus.
“She’s good, I guess. It’s a brave face. She deserved better.”
“Everyone does. Thanks, Emma.”
“You’re welcome.” Emma sat down beside her at the scrubbed oak table. “Mark Warner was a
Peggy heard the white-haired cook catch her breath, but she never stopped kneading the bread dough on the floured board. “That’s pretty harsh!”
“I know. But it’s true. Everybody knew it. He treated Miss Julie like she was worse than a dog! Running after anything in a skirt. Not caring everybody knew. The man deserved to die and
Steve choked on his tea, apologizing as he picked up his napkin.
