Pushing Up Daisies

'Are you the Godfather in your little village? I can't afford to pay all these people,' I whispered, stress level rising again. 'My bud get isn't that big. . . .' I started to protest further, but Felix held up his hand to stop me.

'I told you: it's a favor. Think of it as the Felix Onti-vares Bracero Program. I know I should have asked you first, but I wanted to surprise you. I didn't want you to worry because of what I told you last night.'

I couldn't argue with that; I had been a bit worried, but the men had come in on their one day off and done an amazing job. Most of the dead shrubs were gone, and once we trucked in compost, we'd be ready to plant.

Felix told the men to pack up. They collected their things, doffing their hats to me, nodding to Don Felix, and piling into the vans that would take them back to the inexpensive, crowded rooms and apartments they shared while they did their time up north. We walked to the back of the house.

'So, what's a bracero program?' I asked lightly, trying to forget the feel of his tongue in my mouth and keep things professional.

'Braceros were Mexican field-workers imported into the United States in the forties, fifties, and sixties to help with the harvests. Most of them went to California, Texas, and Florida but some drifted up the East Coast.'

'I'm not sure I like the sound of that. Weren't most of them exploited by unscrupulous companies and practices?'

Felix stared at me. 'I was teasing you. You need to relax.'

'I just had a massage. This is as relaxed as it gets.'

We continued our inspection tour, with me finally checking things off my to-do list instead of adding to it.

All this time, nothing in his manner suggested he had planted a wet one on me last night; I started to think I'd imagined it or misinterpreted its meaning.

'Hugo fixed the door to the green house . . . in case you decide to sleep there again to night,' he added playfully. At the green house, Hugo was just finishing up.

'ATu hiciste un gran trabajo! Gracias,' I said lamely. Then I remembered how good Felix said Hugo's English was, so I dropped my pitiful Spanish.

The green house sparkled. Glass panels and wooden potting tables had been thoroughly hosed down and years of soot, grime, and mouse droppings washed away. The antique sprinkler had been scraped clean, and Hugo spun it around to show me that it was still in working order. The chains and hardware had been oiled, and the roof panels had been opened—something I'd been too afraid to do—to air out the place. An iron plant stand organized empty pots and planters, all the wildlife had been evicted, and smack in the middle of the central table was a mason jar holding a bunch of yellow tulips.

'They're only from the supermarket,' Hugo said, 'but we thought they might cheer you up.'

I thought I might cry. Obviously, those closest to me had seen the meltdown coming.

'You guys . . .' I fumbled for the right words. 'Why are you being so nice to me?' Hardly adequate but all I could think of.

A muffled sound and slight vibration in my backpack interrupted. I hunted for the phone and found it just before the outgoing message would have kicked in.

'Hello? Is she all right? Of course, we'll be right there.' I hung up and shoved the phone back in my bag.

'It was Mike O'Malley. Something's happened to Anna.'

Hugo and Felix were talking too fast for me to understand them, but I could guess what they were saying.

'I don't know what happened; she's not hurt. Looks like maybe someone tried to break in to my house,' I said. Hugo turned pale.

The three of us sped to my place, where two silver-blue Springfield police cars sat in the driveway. I sprinted past them into the house and up the stairs to my living room, where Anna was daintily sipping a Diet Coke, and holding court for five of Springfield's finest, including Mike O'Malley.

Anna got up when she saw me, and we hugged. Her blackened, tattooed eyes welled up, and she dabbed at them gently with a hankie.

'What on earth happened? Are you all right?' I squeezed her chubby hands and told her to sit down.

'Si, si. I am all right, Miss Paula.'

'Shaken up, mostly,' O'Malley said.

Hugo and Felix joined us in the living room. The veins were popping out on Hugo's neck and forehead. 'Dios mio. zQue te paso, mi bella flor? Dime quien te hizo esto,' he spat. 'AYo lo mato!' Felix calmed him down, but Hugo's eyes were wild and his fists clenched. I'd never seen him like that.

To make matters worse, Hugo hadn't seen Anna since her questionable beauty treatment, and seeing her two black eyes and puffy lips, he thought she'd been savagely beaten. Anna did nothing to disavow him of this notion. She stoically looked down and quietly refolded her embroidered hankie.

'Tell us what happened.'

'Like I tell the police. I finish my office work quickly.' She took another sip of soda. 'By the way, Mrs. Sturgis brought over a check. Then I go outside to tidy up the toolshed.'

Good grief, how did she wheedle the money out of Caroline Sturgis so fast? I hoped threats weren't involved. And she was ambitious; my toolshed's a wreck. 'Good girl. Go on,' I prodded.

'I hear something out in the woods. At first I think it is just the deer, but then the sounds came slowly, more de-li-be-rate-ly.' She said it carefully, pleased with her new word. And why not? I don't know how to say deliberately in Spanish.

'They start to sound more like footsteps, and they were coming closer. I call out. Maybe it's you,' she explained, 'or Senor Hugo,' she added sweetly, fluttering her swollen eyelids.

'I become frightened. I feel someone behind me, so I grab the first thing I can get my hands on, and I swing around and hit him in the face. Then he run away, and I run inside, lock the door, and call the police.'

'That was smart. He didn't hurt you, did he?' I asked.

'No. I lose my balance when I hit him and I fall, but I have a lot of padding.' Looking at Hugo, she stroked her extra-large mint-colored leggings seductively.

'Well, you're very brave,' I said to Anna, hugging her. 'Somebody will think twice before messing with you again.' Felix and Hugo joined Anna on the sofa, where they comforted her in Spanish.

I got up and pulled O'Malley into the kitchen, where they couldn't hear us. 'You're the cop. What do you think?' I whispered.

'She wasn't hurt and nothing was taken. Probably not a serious burglar. A vandal, maybe. Sometimes they take tools or patio furniture—anything left outside can be a temptation once the weather gets nice. Usually they're just kids raising a little hell.' He looked down at his notes. 'From the description it could have been anybody. Skinny, dark hair, about one hundred and fifty pounds, age unknown—twenty to what ever. You know, since you found the body, you've acquired a certain notoriety. . . .'

'Do you think they're connected?' I pressed.

'Hugo and Anna? I'd say.'

'Not them! This, and what happened last night. Could they be connected, for god's sake?'

'Well, since I don't know what happened last night, I couldn't say.'

Of course he didn't. I gave him the edited version, omitting the good parts.

'Why didn't you call someone? Me, for instance?'

'To tell you that I'm clumsy?' I felt stupid for letting my phone die, and I had no intention of volunteering the fact that Felix had rescued me.

'Never mind.'

His beeper went off. 'I've got to go. But we should talk. I don't see any mass conspiracy here, but I understand how you might be concerned.'

'That's very understanding of you. As long as you're here, I've got a question about the Peacock case. . . .'

'Ms. Holliday, there is no Peacock case. Besides, I thought you didn't want to get involved in our local ghost story.'

Great. He'd been in the diner during my tantrum.

'I don't. I was just curious. Forget it.'