She didn’t walk like Violet, either. She strode confidently toward them. “Phil? Helen?” she asked. “Are you okay? You look a little rocky this morning.”
“I’ve been beat up by Blossom, then spent the night with the police,” Helen said. “You look terrific. What’s your secret?”
“Thanks,” Violet said. “I was too upset to eat after Daddy died. I lost ten pounds and decided to keep losing weight. Now I’m working out at the gym four days a week. I feel so much better.”
“But your hair is different and your clothes are new,” Helen said.
“You like them?” Violet smiled. A sweet smile, with none of the old tension. “Clothes and hair were never my thing. My workout instructor sent me to a new salon. Neiman Marcus has a personal shopper. That was Blossom’s secret, you know. She had the taste of a tramp, but she used a personal shopper to buy the right clothes to mix with people like Daddy.
“But I’m not going to waste time ranting about her. I’m seeing a counselor now. For”—she paused and lowered her eyes—“anger issues. I don’t like Blossom and never will, but I’m starting to realize that some of my problems were caused by me. I can be my own worst enemy.”
Blossom, Helen thought. She called her stepmother Blossom. Twice.
“But you were right,” Phil said. “Blossom did murder your father. She had a lover and she poisoned your father with something from the exotic East, just as you suspected. Now that Nancie’s here, we’ll go inside and give our report.”
Helen and Phil helped the lawyer carry in steaming cups of hot coffee, a tub of warm bagels, whipped butter, maple-honey spread and lox and cream cheese. They arranged the food on the conference room table. Helen burned her tongue on the coffee—she was that desperate for caffeine. Phil heaped a bagel with lox and cream cheese.
The little lawyer sat at the head of the long conference-dining table, savoring her triumph and a cinnamon- raisin bagel.
Violet sipped black coffee and listened to Helen and Phil. She cried softly when Phil told her about the seed of the suicide tree.
“Fran was right,” Violet said. “It was the curry. It hid the taste. I hope Blossom goes away for a long time.”
Helen heard a flash of Violet’s old anger. But it was justified.
“I think she will,” Nancie said, delicately picking a crumb off her brown suit. “Right now Blossom is in custody for the assault on Helen. But I expect further charges after Mr. Zerling’s body is exhumed and tests are conducted on samples from her lover, Zack. Any more questions?”
“A couple,” Violet said. “Why did Blossom use a different poison to kill her boyfriend?”
“I can answer that,” Phil said. “She wanted to save the suicide tree seed for you. I heard her tell Zack that it would look like you’d had a heart attack, just like your father. She said she was going to try to mend fences with you. We warned Nancie, but she didn’t contact you.”
“I might have let her, too, as part of my therapy,” Violet said.
“She was poisoning Zack while she talked about killing you,” Phil said.
“Awful woman,” Violet said. “Do you need to see a doctor, Helen, for your injuries?”
Helen started in surprise. Violet hadn’t cared about anything but vengeance last time.
“No, just a bruised shoulder,” Helen said.
“Your suit is ruined,” she said.
“I never liked it anyway,” Helen said.
“Is that it, Violet?” Nancie asked.
Violet nodded. They shook hands all around, but Nancie wouldn’t let Helen leave yet. She pulled a camera from her desk drawer. “I’m taking photos of your injuries, including that shoulder. That bruise should be nice and photogenic this morning. Take off your blouse, please.”
Helen finished the photo session yawning with fatigue. Phil swiped an onion bagel and they left.
The next two weeks passed in a blur of publicity and breaking news on the Blossom Zerling murders. Valerie Cannata seemed to have a new revelation on channel seventy-seven nearly every day. Each time, she mentioned Coronado Investigations. Helen and Phil were the stars of the six o’clock news.
First, a botanist confirmed that the oval seed in the potpourri vase was from the suicide tree, famous for its harvest of suicide and homicide in India and southern Asia, but hardly known in the West.
Next, Valerie reported that the medical examiner found traces of the exotic poison in Arthur Zerling’s body during the autopsy. The samples of Zack’s blood and urine showed evidence of nicotine poison.
Then Valerie broke the story that Blossom Zerling was charged with first-degree murder in the deaths of her husband, Arthur Zerling, and her lover, Zachary Crinlund. Now Blossom could no longer receive funds from the Zerling estate—or afford a high-priced defense team. Blossom waited for an ambitious defense lawyer to save her for no money, but the pin-striped sharks were busy rescuing other malefactors.
Blossom had to settle for a public defender with a bad haircut and a shiny suit. He saw Valerie’s story about Arthur’s kindness and contributions to the community, and advised Blossom to plead guilty to both murders and avoid the death penalty.
Helen and Phil cheered when Blossom was sentenced to life in prison.
The Zerling case ended where it began—in Nancie Hays’s neat, practical office.
The new Violet sat in the lime green client chair. She was more attractive, less angry and definitely grateful. She examined her bill, wrote a check to Coronado Investigations with a flourish, then handed Helen and Phil a bonus check of fifty thousand dollars.
“Rich people usually look for ways to reduce bills,” Helen said.
“Blossom won’t get Daddy’s estate, thanks to you,” Violet said. “You’ve made me richer—and saved my life.”
She handed Helen a pale blue envelope. “That’s for Margery Flax, the woman who accompanied me to Daddy’s funeral.”
“We’ve already paid her,” Helen said.
“She deserves a bonus for putting up with me,” Violet said.
“We have something for you,” Helen said. “Blossom asked me to go through your father’s personal effects and give them to charity. I sent them to a resale shop that benefits people with AIDS. Do you want me to see if I can get his things back?”
“No, no,” Violet said. “Daddy would be happy that his things will help people. That’s the kind of man he was.”
“We kept two personal items for you,” Helen said. She handed Violet her parents’ wedding photo in the mother-of-pearl frame and the platinum Rolex Oyster that Honeysuckle had given Arthur.
Violet’s expression softened as she read the engraving on the watch out loud.
“They didn’t, did they?” Violet said, wiping away a tear.
“There’s never enough time when you love each other,” Helen said.
“Well, I’m sure you have places to go,” Violet said, suddenly turning all business. She stood up and shook hands with the partners of Coronado Investigations.
It was five o’clock when Helen and Phil walked out together to the Igloo. “We’d better deposit our checks at the bank before they evaporate,” Phil said. “Then we have one more place to go.”
“Where?” Helen asked.
“It’s a surprise,” he said.
The setting sun was turning the Fort Lauderdale beach a tender pink when Phil parked the Igloo. The beachgoers were already a deeper pink. Tired, sunburned and sandy, they were folding their chairs and packing their coolers. Toddlers crying for naps clung to their mothers. Daddies gave their little girls rides on their shoulders to the family minivans.
Helen and Phil passed them as they walked at the edge of the ocean. Helen slipped off her shoes and let the warm water tickle her toes.
They walked as though they were the only ones on the beach.
“I know where we are now,” Helen said. “This is where Margery married us.”
“That’s why I wanted to come back,” Phil said. “I know you’ve been upset with me about that business with
