At least she didn’t have any reason to see Mose Milton or Merleen. It would be a while before she could face them without seeing Merleen straddling Mose Milton. It was almost as bad as the memory of Dennis covered in his own blood.
Capri had paged through Hibiscus Summer last night. Mixed in with all the preaching about the evils of civilization were the glimmerings of a story that might have been interesting. It was too bad they’d sent Toby Evergreen the wrong rejection. Made an encouraging rejection kind of problematic. If the author had any sense at all, they’d blog about how lame Socrates Musings was.
Capri decided to get the Mari Beth moment over with before going to her own office. It would give Mari Beth a chance to score her off if she had sent the file and maybe get her off the shit list—or least further down it.
There was a nasty feeling of deju vu when she saw her door ajar. Mari Beth’s door was always either completely open or completely closed. If it was closed, you walked away, no matter how pressing your business with her.
Capri almost turned and walked away, but it felt like cowardice. And what could be worse than seeing Dennis covered in blood?
Capri pushed the door open. Okay, seeing Mari Beth hanging from the ceiling was worse.
Someone started screaming. Capri didn’t know she was the screamer until someone slapped her.
Mari Beth had died because Tony had been slow figuring out this bad boy of a crime. The killer had tried to make it look like a suicide, even typing a note on the woman’s computer, but the forensics didn’t add up. The chair she’d supposedly stood on wasn’t high enough for her to get the rope around the beam, for one thing. Mari Beth Newman wasn’t a tall woman. In fact, she was short. No sign of a struggle, so Tony figured the ME would find some kind of drug in her system.
And one of the drawers on the file cabinet was slightly out of alignment. He hadn’t spent that much time around the woman, but he knew this: she kept her drawers perfectly aligned.
He’d seen it.
He pulled on gloves and eased the drawer open, studying the lined up folders. One of them was also misaligned. He almost missed it. It was in the “F” section. What was the name of that author Capri had asked about? Oh, right. Felding.
He looked through the folders. It was gone. It was possible Capri had it, but he’d gotten the impression that people went to the folders, the folders didn’t go to the people.
He heaved a deep sigh.
“BT, where’s Ms. Hinkenlooper?”
BT looked up from his position across from the ME. “I think she was going to her office.”
He sighed again, his instinct giving a kick. What was missing besides the folder? He sniffed again and then it hit him.
“Oh crap!”
Right away Capri noticed that now her office door stood ajar. It was a good thing she knew she wasn’t dead or no way she’d go near that door. She eased forward and saw the plant lady sitting slumped in her chair.
She pushed the door open. “Rose?”
Rose looked at her. She’d been crying. Her face was blotchy and red, her eyes pale and swimmy.
“Mari Beth is dead.”
Capri shifted uneasily. “Yeah, I know.” Every time she closed her eyes she saw her swinging there…
Rose looked around her office. “You don’t have any plants.”
“I thought it would be cruel and unusual punishment to make them stay here with me.”
Rose stared at her, blinking a few times as approval filtered into her very pale eyes.
“I didn’t realize you felt that way. I thought you were anti-plant.”
Okay, getting a little creepy. And how did she know Mari Beth was dead? Okay, she could have heard, but everyone who would have told her was clustered around Mari Beth’s office…
“I can’t even stand to look at Bonzai plants…” Capri said it slowly, as her thoughts tried to fit the facts together.
Rose got up, the movement both lanky and graceful. “Neither can I. It’s torture, pure and simple.”
“We got a book about it, but Mose Milton wouldn’t let me publish it.” Capri was throwing stuff out there, even as she inched back out the door, feeling uneasy, even though she really shouldn’t feel uneasy. Unless she should.
“He turned it down? I thought—”
“What did you think?” Capri asked. Not that she wanted to know. She felt alone, way too alone for comfort. She even missed Dennis at the end of the hall.
“I thought it was Dennis.”
Capri felt ice avalanche down her back.
“Did you write Hibiscus Summer?”
Her gaze sharpened, vague falling away from her like dead leaves off a plant. “Do you have it?”
“I read it last night. It’s pretty good…it needs a little work…” Her voice trailed off as pieces began to thud ponderously into place in her head. Maybe Rose heard them, because she pulled a pair of garden shears out of her plant lady apron.
“I wish you hadn’t found it. I like you.”
“Did you take Injustice League when you killed Dennis?”
“The idiot put it in my envelope.” She scowled.
“He wasn’t bright.” Capri hesitated. “Or nice, but not a reason to kill him.”
Pale eyes studied her. “You think not?”
“What happened, Rose?” Just keep her talking. It worked on TV….
“He overheard me talking to Mari Beth about my book. She was supposed to give it to you, but he took it. Then he waited, let me hope…”
“He wanted to reject you to your face.” Mari Beth had cut him off from his rejection fix…
“He said awful things, but I can take rejection. But then he started in on my plants.”
“And Mari Beth? Sounds
