Showing posts with label #murdermystery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #murdermystery. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Jillian Must Solve the Hardest Mystery of All

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As Jillian Bradley prepares to embark on her honeymoon, a terrible tragedy strikes. Now she must help exonerate Richard Zhou of murder. But when Jillian's health fails, a dear friend back home is called upon to help and joins Jillian to solve the case. Even with Teddy at her side, will Jillian have the strength to find the real killer? "The Long Trip Home" is an ordeal no one should ever have to face.



CHAPTER ONE


Before I share the story of how a sixty-six year old widowed gardening columnist went from a storybook wedding in London to being widowed again, I have to say I don’t know how I would have coped without good friends and my Yorkie companion, Teddy. I owe them everything for getting me safely home to Clover Hills.
Our wedding was the second for both of us. Prentice lost his wife due to an illness ten years ago, and my husband died a hero in the Vietnam War. After years of being alone, Prentice and I dated until a rival prompted a proposal last New Year’s Eve.
Due to business, Prentice suggested a destination wedding in London, which sounded lovely even though it precluded most of my friends.
Two of my gardening club friends however, Ann Fieldman and Nicole King, did come with me and served as attendants. An old friend of mine, Detective Mac McKenzie, who happened to be in London helping with a case, offered to supervise Teddy who served as ring bearer.
Since Teddy accompanies me everywhere, it seemed fitting to include him in the wedding. At a little over four pounds, he wasn’t much trouble as a travel companion.
Unfortunately, two of my dearest friends, Walter and Cecilia Montoya, were unable to attend. Walter was a busy detective working on a case, and Cecilia had her hands full with a toddler, D.J., my godson.
Still, the wedding moved happily along as Prentice and I greeted guests sitting at tables, and Teddy kept trying to sniff cake.
Mac kept him in tow, however.
As the string ensemble played, Prentice and I took our seats at the head table and dinner was served.
Mac brought Teddy to me and apologized for having to leave due to an unavoidably early flight back to San Diego. He kissed me on the cheek and wished us well.
It was to be the last happy moment of my wedding.
Eric West raised the first toast to Prentice.
Champagne flutes clinked. Cheers filled the room.
After a brief sip, Prentice, my husband of less than an hour, choked and struggled to breathe.
The music stopped. Guests pushed back their chairs, discordant conversations followed — words of disbelief, calls for help, and looks of confusion.
Prentice coughed uncontrollably, his face contorted in pain. As we stood, he tripped and tried to grab my arms for support. He fell, and momentarily, everything went blank.


When I awoke, I found myself in an unfamiliar place, a bedroom-sitting room of sorts furnished with antiques. Wallpaper in a tasteful apricot print covered the walls. A fire burned in a small fireplace flanked by two overstuffed chairs, one occupied by someone oddly familiar.
Moving my head caused pain. I lay back too weak to persevere. I wore a pink satin bed jacket with lace insets on the lapels and sleeves, tied in front with a large bow. I had no idea where it came from.
The figure stood and smiled.
I found it difficult to speak. “Daisy?”
She nodded and came to the side of my bed.
“I’m here.” She sat near me and took my hand.
The warmth was reassuring.
Teddy raised his head from the foot of my bed and yawned. He was lying on a blue towel monogrammed with a T that I had also never seen.
At least my Yorkie companion was familiar.
He left the towel and pranced up to me, wagging his tail.
I gathered him in my arms and wanted to kiss his head but found no strength.
He settled next to me as I focused on Daisy’s face.
She handed me a glass of water but didn’t let go of it.
“Drink this.”
I drank as if it was my first water in a long time.
I had so many questions.
“Teddy hasn’t left your side since you’ve been here,” she said. “I think he’s glad you’re finally awake.”
Teddy woofed.
“Where am I? What’s wrong with me? How did you get here?” I felt weak and powerless. My mind struggled to believe the dream was not real.
“You’re not to worry about anything, doctor’s orders. Relax and I’ll tell you the details once you’ve had a nice cup of tea.” She rang the small brass bell lying on a doily on my bedside table. “Mildred will bring it right away.”
“Mildred? Daisy, where’s Prentice?” The knot in my stomach refused to leave. 
Daisy gently squeezed my hand. “I’m afraid there’s only one way to say it, Jillian. Prentice is dead. I’m so sorry.”
“No! How can that be? We just said our vows.” The memory of Prentice choking and our falling returned.
It wasn’t a dream.
I felt numb, as if I was in someone else’s body. This couldn’t be happening!
Lord, why me? I don’t understand.
Tears flowed as the weight of sadness engulfed me and dragged my spirit into an ocean of despair. My heart, which had been so full of happiness, was now empty.
Daisy put her strong arms around me and hugged me close.
“I know, I know. You’re in shock. You must rest before you can pull yourself together. Ann told Walter you collapsed and hit hard on the floor after Prentice fell. The doctor said you have a concussion from the large bump on your head.”
“No wonder it hurts. I can actually feel it.”
“You’re lucky not to be in a hospital.”
“Daisy, did Prentice have a heart attack or was it a stroke?”
She lowered her head, then looked at me. Her eyes filled with sadness.
“Neither I’m afraid. Jillian, the police suspect he was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” My mind refused to accept the fact. “By whom? Daisy, that’s bizarre! Maybe it was food poisoning or....”
“I’m so sorry. The fact is — someone murdered him.”
A knock on my door signaled the arrival of a sweet-faced middle-aged woman who entered with a tea tray laden with a basket of scones. 
“Hello, luvs.” She set the tray on a small table near the fireplace, straightened her back and turned to me. “I’m Mildred Clark, owner of this bed and breakfast. My brother, Parker, has told us all about you. Now drink this nice hot tea and eat a scone or two and you’ll feel better.”      Daisy smiled at her. “Thanks, Mildred.”
I had a vague recollection from somewhere of a butler named Parker.
Mildred wiped her hands on her apron. “I need to be running along.” She nodded to the small brass bell on the tray. “Ring the bell when you’re finished. Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Duvall.”
Mrs. Duvall. I felt a stabbing pain in my heart.
Daisy fell silent a moment while she poured the tea, stirred in sugar, and handed it to me.
“The currant scones are delicious. Mildred makes the raspberry jam herself. I’ll fix one for you,” she said.
I wasn’t hungry. I tried to resist but couldn’t. “Just a half of one, please, Daisy.”
Daisy slathered the sweet golden biscuit with clotted cream and jam and made me eat it anyway. The mother hen watched over me as she had Cecilia when Cecilia’s father went missing in Half Moon Bay.
“How did you get away?” I asked. “What about your plant care business?” I sipped the steaming Earl Grey and took a small bite of scone. The sweet biscuit melted in my mouth.
“A friend of mine owed me a favor. I serviced her plant customers while she recuperated from knee surgery. Savings for a rainy day came in handy for the plane fare. Besides, I’ve cut back clients since Douglas and I married, so her handling the calls is no problem.”
“Married? You never told me!”
“That’s because we eloped. Neither of us wanted a big wedding, so we went to Reno and returned home Mr. and Mrs. Douglas Chastain. We didn’t even tell Walter and Cecilia.”
I remembered Cecilia was Douglas Chastain’s daughter. “I’m happy for you. That officially makes you D.J.’s grandmother.” Had it only been two weeks since I’d seen my godson?
The next thing I knew, I passed out again. I woke what seemed to be a few minutes later.
The tea revived me, but the happiness I felt for Daisy turned to anger. Someone had robbed me of Prentice, my dearest friend.
“Start from the beginning, Daisy. I must know everything.”
She handed me a pill and a glass of water. “Here, take this sedative. Doctor’s orders.”
I took the bitter pill and swallowed it. “Thanks.” Then I gave her my full attention.
“Walter was the one who called me. He said the last thing you did before passing out was tell your friend Ann to call him.”
“I don’t remember. But what a blessing she and Nicole came with me for my wedding. Did they go back to California?”
“Yes.”
Tears formed again as I realized how far away from home I was. Outside, a distant clap of thunder sounded as Daisy returned to sit by the warm fire.
“Chief Inspector Halsey took their statements and said they were free to go.”
A shred of hope in me stirred. I remembered working with the Chief Inspector on a case. Was it recently? “He’s handling the case? That’s good. Halsey’s as good as they come. Oh, Daisy, I feel so tired. How did I wind up here? And where did the bed jacket and Teddy’s towel come from?”
“You are full of questions, lady.” She rose and refilled my cup.
“The bed jacket and towel are wedding gifts from me. I was going to give them to you when you got home but brought them instead. I didn’t want them to get lost shipping them overseas.”
“They’re lovely. It was so thoughtful of you.”
“As for how you got here, your butler at the hotel, Parker, heard what happened and insisted he bring you to his sister and brother-in-law’s bed and breakfast. Parker told me Archie is a former policeman and might be of help.”
“That’s interesting. I think I remember Parker drove me around London. He is wonderful.”
“Yes, he is. He took care of cancelling the honeymoon arrangements with the concierge.”
I grew sad again.
Daisy sighed. “If you’re feeling tired, lie back and relax. You don’t need to think about anything except getting well. You’re going to need your strength, Jillian.”
She tucked the soft covers around me.
“I’ll take Teddy for a walk and come back with your dinner. I’m rooming across the hall with Mrs. Fisher and her service dog, Robin Hood. We’ll talk later.”
I didn’t need convincing. Questions raced through my mind, but I heeded Daisy’s advice and let go of the thoughts.
If someone killed Prentice, I would need all the strength I had to find the truth. 

                                                    
After I awoke, my appetite returned. I sat up as Daisy held the door for Mildred to carry in a tray.
“Archie made Bubble and Squeak ‘specially for you, Ms. Jillian,” Mildred said. “Daisy suggested I call you that so’s I don’t remind you of your poor hubby. We’re truly sorry for your loss, Archie and me.”
“Thank you.”
“Let me lay this napkin ‘cross your lap and you eat up. I made pudding for tonight’s supper. I hope you like apple pie.”
“That’s kind of you, Mildred. Bubble and Squeak looks like mashed potatoes and....” I looked at her for an explanation.
“That’s right.” She nodded. ”Mashed potatoes and veggies fried together from yesterday’s dinner. Archie added a bit of roast beef left over as well. I’ve fed Teddy for you. What a luv! Enjoy.”
She turned to Daisy. “You can bring the tray to the kitchen when she’s finished. I’ll be washing up. Have a good evening.”
Mildred toddled off.
The dinner was delicious and exactly what I needed at the moment.
Thank you, Lord for provision during this time. You’ve provided a miracle sending Daisy to help. Please give me strength.
I pushed the tray away and Daisy collected it.
She put Teddy on my bed. He moved toward me and settled by my side. My Yorkie companion must have sensed something was wrong and comforted me.
I stroked his fur.
“Thanks for sticking by me, sweet dog. At least I still have you.”
The image of Prentice’s body lying cold in a morgue flashed in my mind. I thrust it aside.
No.
I’d always want to think of him standing beside me exchanging vows of loving each other until....
Daisy returned, sat beside the fire, and let out a sigh.
“Mildred’s a saint. She says I only need to take care of you and she’ll take care of Teddy. I insisted on walking him, though. I need the exercise.”
“How did you manage to get here so quickly?” I asked. “Didn’t you need a passport?”
She smiled.
“Ah. I actually got one when Douglas and I eloped. We went to Vancouver for our honeymoon.”
There it was again. The honeymoon Prentice and I will never take.
I returned my attention to Daisy and tried to focus on being grateful for her coming.
“How lucky for me. You’re a great comfort, Daisy. Congratulations on getting married. I’m happy for you both.”
She looked pleased.
“I want to know everything that’s going on in the investigation, even the smallest detail. You know how I am.”
Memories of the times I helped solve homicides flooded my brain.
“Only too well, Jillian. From what Walter shared about the ruby necklace incident, I’m sure the Chief Inspector will keep you posted.”
“Anything to do with the task of bringing Prentice’s murderer to justice is overwhelming, but I realize it’s because I’m not in my right mind.”
“That’s understandable. Take comfort you have me to be your eyes and ears.”
She took a purple notebook from the coffee table. “Here, I brought this for notes.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s a pen in the drawer of your nightstand. Do you feel like writing?”
I considered.
“The night is early. I think we should record everything that happened so I don’t forget. Although, I want to forget.”
“Now, now.” Daisy patted my arm. “Don’t think about that. What do you remember? You talk and I’ll write.”
“Okay. Here goes.”

1. I remember music playing — a classical string quartet.
2. A server placed the salad course in front of Prentice and accidentally knocked over his champagne flute.
3. The server returned with a new glass and disappeared.
4. Eric West, the best man, stood and raised his toast to Prentice.
5. There was applause and everyone sipped champagne.
6. Prentice started to choke, grabbed his throat, then we both stood.
7. He tripped and grabbed my arms.
8. Ann sat next to me so all I could think of was to tell her to call Walter.
9. I blacked out and came to in this room.

“And that’s all you remember?”
“Except I remember hearing Teddy barking. Mac was holding him for me.”
“And Mac is your detective friend from Pacific Beach who helped solve your nephew’s case.”
“Actually, I believe I was the one who helped him, but no matter. He was wonderful to come help me here in London when I got involved with the ruby case.”
Daisy looked over what she’d written.
“I think this is enough for one night.” She fetched my robe and slippers. “Let’s get you ready for bed. I’ll draw a bath.”
My head still hurt, but I wasn’t tired. The one question that kept nagging away was why would anyone want Prentice dead? Did he have enemies?
There was certainly none I knew of.
If we could find out why, maybe we could find out who.
Daisy helped me into the bathroom and left me until I’d soaked in a warm bubble bath long enough for my fingers to wrinkle.
Afterward, bundled up in my robe, I joined her next to the fire. My head still hurt but not as badly.
“It feels good to sit after being in bed all day. Tell me, Daisy, for the sake of argument, did you ever want to see someone dead?”
She raised her brow and seemed surprised by the question.
“There was my ex-husband.”
“I’ll have to hear the story sometime.”
I was relaxed now. The bath had worked its magic.
“You say you’re rooming with someone with a service dog? What does your roommate suffer from?”
“Mrs. Fisher has crippling arthritis from Lyme’s disease.”
“I didn’t realize it was a problem outside of the United States. How unfortunate for her.”
“She’s cheerful, though. Quite positive. Robin Hood is a Papillion, one of those dogs with the huge ears that stick out. He does look like a butterfly.”
“Do he and Teddy get along?”
“Yes, actually they do. Both seem intelligent and happy to be around another dog. We’ll see how it goes. It’s only been two days, after all.”
Two days? I must have hit my head hard to be out that long.
Daisy helped me to bed and handed me another sedative.
“You’d better keep taking these until the doctor says otherwise. He’s sending a nurse to check on you. I don’t know when she’ll come. It’s time to take Teddy for his evening walk and settle in for the night.”
“Thanks, Daisy.”
A sound from outside jarred me. “Do I hear thunder?”
Daisy peered out the bank of windows.
“I forgot it’s supposed to rain so I’d better hurry. I’ll say goodnight in case you’re asleep by the time we get back.”
Teddy jumped off the bed when Daisy mentioned the word walk and headed for the coat rack where his red leash dangled.
She secured the leash to his collar and the two headed for the door.
“We won’t be gone long.”
After Daisy left, I lay back and pulled the covers up over my head. It was difficult to remember the last time I’d taken him for a walk.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as the reality of Prentice’s being gone sunk in. I wondered what our honeymoon would have been like. Thanks to a murderer, I would never know.
Waves of sadness and self-pity gave way to anger, then to determination to find his killer.



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See you in my books!
~Nancy Jill 

Tuesday, July 30, 2019

What Happens in Book 2, The Ghost Orchid Murder?


At the end of "Murder in Half Moon Bay" it says, "Not the end." Eight years later, this is what happens!



CHAPTER ONE


I took off my glasses, rubbed the bridge of my nose, and glanced down at my Yorkshire terrier, Teddy, curled up asleep on his pillow next to my desk. This was a long session. The words on my computer screen were jumbling together.
“I need a break, Teddy. Would you like to go outside for a minute?”
Like a kid eager for ice cream, Teddy jumped off his pillow and headed toward the back yard. That meant a path from my office through the conservatory. It took him no time to reach his destination, and soon he scratched on the door, begging to roll on the lawn.
So much for work.
“All right, all right.” I followed him through the house. “Here you go.” I opened the door, and Teddy darted outside. The yard was green and beautiful with a smell of freshly cut grass. Gorgeous weather. Working any more would prove hopeless.
For my own rest break, I took some cottage cheese, pineapple slices, and cold roast chicken I keep on hand for protein boosts from the refrigerator. It would be a mid-morning meal.
“One last addition…a nice glass of cranberry juice, and I’ll be all set.”
I smiled, placed the food and juice on a floral tray, and added a napkin and a set of silverware. I would feast in the conservatory where I could view Teddy frolicking in the yard, chasing dead leaves in the breeze.
Warm sunlight gleamed in beams streaming through the glass. The conservatory. It was the perfect place to get my daily fifteen minutes of vitamin D. But, there was something about the room…something missing. Another painting, perhaps on the adjacent wall to accentuate the he beautiful garden view. I sat on the rattan sofa, contemplating the sort of piece I wanted as I ate.
After the last bite of chicken and final sip of juice, I set my glass down and let out a sigh.
“Break over.”
Opening the door I called, “Come on in, Teddy. Work time.”
Work…I didn’t hate it. But today had been especially stressful. Glued to my computer with a fear that put fire into my typing fingers, I had searched through numerous news releases since receiving a call from a friend of mine, Arthur Wingate.
A few weeks ago, Arthur approached me to help him win an important research grant from a wealthy couple who happened to be in my circle of acquaintances. The Hansens were devoted to the preservation of rare American flora on the verge of extinction. My degree in horticulture, my Master’s in botany, and years of experience working as a contributor for various gardening magazines gave Arthur the impression that I might bring a few interesting sidelights to the work he was doing.
He had invited me to attend a ceremony at the Sanctuary Resort and Spa in Scottsdale to hear the winner announced. My bags were packed, the garden weeded, timers for watering were set, and the neighbors had graciously agreed to pick up my morning paper. Then the dreadful news came.
It had been a shock and surprise. Of course, I would do all I could to help him. A technical assistant on the competing team had been found dead in one of their offices in Phoenix just yesterday. Arthur discovered the body upon arriving for work. The light was on. He peeked inside and was horrified at the bloody scene.
Arthur described the man lying on his back, arms outstretched. Someone had placed what looked like a white ghost orchid over his heart, right on top of the bullet wound. Arthur called the police immediately.
They arrived a short time later, and soon, the homicide detective and the coroner had sized up the crime scene, zeroing in on the orchid.
After he gazed upon it for some moments, the detective commented on how real it looked.
Arthur told me he was badly shaken and could barely speak due to the shock of seeing a colleague in such a state. My friend explained to the detective that the ghost orchid only bloomed in the early summer, and this was November.
My friend said the detective seemed puzzled when he pulled on his gloves and carefully lifted the thin, delicate flower from the body, discovering that the orchid wasn’t real. Instead, it was a lifelike piece of porcelain. 
I focused on the screen. Demanding discipline from myself, I clicked on one more Wikipedia article that promised answers.

The American ghost orchid is a rare and beautiful species of orchid found in the southwestern part of Florida and Cuba. The flower roots grow deep in the moist, swampy forests on the trunks of the bald cypress tree. Their roots blend in so well with the tree, the flower often seems to float in midair, hence its name “ghost orchid.”
These orchids are so rare that when a giant one surfaced in the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary in 2007, a flood of observers from all over the world flocked to southern Florida to view the specimen which contained eleven flowers on one stalk. Each bloom was the size of a hand. 

I glanced at my hand, and allowed my fingers to uncurl from the keys. A bloom…as big as a hand. What a sight that must be. Well, surely that was enough. I clicked ‘send’ on the e-mail that contained links to the information. Hopefully, it would be of some help to him. As far as I knew, no one had canceled the award ceremony.
After watering the plants on the porch and in the conservatory one last time and placing Teddy in his crate, I locked up the house. While loading Teddy and my bags into my Jeep Cherokee, I felt a sense of foreboding. The skies had grown overcast and the brightness of the day seemed to dwindle. Surely, it was nothing. Everything would be fine. Now, on to the airport to meet Cecilia. 
Cecilia Chastain, my personal assistant, was my right arm. An extra right arm was needed for a person like me so I could be two places at once. Teddy required constant care, but I couldn’t take him everywhere. Cecilia was indispensable, not only in my work, but also in caring for my precious canine companion as well. She and I were to fly into Phoenix together.
I kept running over in my mind how a man like Arthur Wingate could possibly be involved in a murder. I thought about how jovial he was, always making us laugh when we became a little overheated about a subject like deforestation or insensitive land users.
He and his wife Diana had been colleagues prior to their marriage twelve years ago. Before that, Arthur never had the time for relationships outside of work. He was certainly the workaholic type. When he met Diana, however, they fit hand-in-glove, and the chemistry between them happily resulted in marriage.
I was looking forward to seeing them again, but the murder cast a pall over our visit. 
Teddy was grateful to climb out of his carrier after being stuffed under the seat for two hours. I attached his leash to his red rhinestone-studded collar, and our little party marched through the airport to retrieve our bags. Heads turned to watch Teddy prancing along and wagging his tail.
After giving himself a good shake, he blew a tiny sneeze to clear his sinuses and looked up at me.
“This exercise feels good after being cooped up so long,” he seemed to communicate to me, as he often does.
I scooped him up and gave him a squeeze. Cecilia and I piled into the rental car and headed into traffic.
Phoenix is, admittedly, the largest city in Arizona at around 4.3 million people, boasting some of the hottest temperatures and some of the best southwestern food you’ll ever taste. Right in the middle of the metropolis sits majestic Camelback Mountain, looking just like its name—a large rust-colored dromedary camel towering over the city. Fabulous palm-studded resorts nestle at the mountain’s base with casitas, swimming pools in the shape of camels, spas, golf courses, and exclusive shops available for tourists with money to spend. How nice that included Cecilia and me.
Cecilia was such a Godsend. We’d met eight years before while she’d worked as a hotel housekeeper to earn her way through college. Through the years, we’d stayed in touch and worked out an arrangement for her to be my personal assistant.
Besides her strong work ethic, I was impressed with her being one of the few people I’d ever met who never used the “five Cs.” Because she never complained, compared, condemned, criticized, or cursed, she certainly had my respect. We became fast friends.
Today, she wore her long auburn hair straight with bangs curved to the side and sported a cute pair of glasses and hat for the Phoenix sun. Typical for tourists like us.
The rental car gave us a smooth ride through the sights. Towering saguaro cacti and a few yuccas were still in bloom, sending tall white stalks high into the air. To the north side of the mountain, the gated communities of Paradise Valley sprang into view. As we turned right off 44th Street, custom million-dollar homes of every style and shape dotted the mountainside. A sign for the Sanctuary on Camelback Mountain Resort and Spa entrance marked our way. We turned into the winding desert path to Guest Reception.
Three valets in gold polo shirts and tan slacks opened our car doors and welcomed us to the Sanctuary. All of the grant contenders would reside here through the ceremony.
“This is really different, isn’t it?” Cecilia stepped out of the car and paused to gaze up at the entrance. The building was art itself. 
Influenced by Frank Lloyd Wright, the Asian-inspired architecture incorporated the natural desert setting. Winding brick and flagstone paths ran in between each casita, and each of them had a unique desert garden. I had to agree with her; it was definitely different from the green rolling hills of San Francisco.
I checked us in at the small reception area. Original art lined the walls, all excellent works, and all were for sale. This, of course, intrigued me.
The young receptionist interrupted my musings. “You have a message waiting in your room, Mrs. Bradley.”
I noted her name badge. “Thank you, Rebecca.”
“If you need anything or have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.” She smiled.
Before climbing aboard the golf cart loaded with our luggage, Teddy pulled on his leash, leading us to a nearby mountain laurel that he wanted to sniff. He wagged his tail, indicating he was thoroughly going to enjoy his stay.
“We have a dog lawn if he needs to pay a visit,” the young valet offered.
“Thanks.”
Teddy barked a tiny yip as an affirmation that he knew exactly what had been said. This trip was going to be delightful.
The young driver, whose name badge read “David,” made small welcoming talk and recognized my name from The San Francisco Enterprise.
“Yeah, my mom reads your column all the time. Says she learns more about gardening from your answers than from any gardening book. You should see her collection of plants.
“I guess you know what you’re talking about because my mom’s garden is really something, Mrs. Bradley. Would you like to get a tour of the grounds sometime while you’re here? If you want, I could set it up for you.”
David was trained to be chatty, I’m sure, to put guests at ease.
“I’d love a tour. Thank you. Perhaps I’ll call once my schedule becomes clear.”
Arthur’s message was an invitation for dinner just after a private meeting on the Jade Bar patio. The representatives of the contending project teams would be there and the facilitator, Herbert Jamison, as well, who represented the grant donors. This was all going to be so fun.
I settled into my comfortable earth-hued room. The design made the dramatic views of Camelback Mountain even more spectacular. Various travel and shopping magazines beckoned next to a tray on the nightstand. Perhaps those would make good reading later. Hopefully, I might get to do some shopping while I was here in neighboring Scottsdale.
A comfortable over-sized chair and another long chaise holding colorful throws paired well with an armless geometric print chair and a small brass table. Tiny lights hung from the ceiling, interspersed among the dark wooden beams. There were even candles.
I flipped the switch next to the lava rock fireplace. Flames rolled up, and their crackle accented the classical music station I found on the clock radio. I unpacked my bags and made sure Cecilia was comfortably settled.
After seeing that Teddy had fresh water and a dog treat for being so good on the plane, I placed a towel at the foot of my bed to protect the comforter and settled him on top for a nap. He seemed grateful. He gave a little sigh and put his head down on his tiny paws.
The provided robe was royal blue and plush. I threw it on in a surge of haste and tucked my hair up in a clip, for a quick bubble bath. Time to unwind. Dinner would come soon enough, and I felt a little nervous about meeting the new team members.
“Cecilia?”
“Yes?” She opened my bedroom door slightly. “I know, tea, right?”
“Bless you, child.”
“I’ll order room service along with your tea so I can get to bed early. Let me know when you need to leave for dinner and I’ll come watch Teddy.”
Cecilia was such a blessing, such a pleasure.
A few moments later, the tea arrived. “Do you want me to fix you a cup?” she asked.
“Thanks, dear. Just what I needed, thank you.”I took a small sip. Earl Grey…delicious. I brought the tea into my room, sprinkled bath salts into the over-sized bathtub, and filled it with extra hot water. After placing the cup carefully on the edge of the tub, I stepped in and immersed myself in mounds of aromatic bubbles. Heaven.
“How’s Walter Montoya these days?” I queried Cecilia after I emerged from my refreshing bath. He was a sweet young man from a trip I’d taken to the Ritz-Carlton in Half Moon Bay, California. He’d worked with her there, and they were roughly the same age. “Have you heard anything about how he’s doing?”
“Jillian, it’s incredibly odd that you ask me. I was just texting him. He wanted to know if everything went okay with our trip.”
“Oh…so you do keep in touch?”
“We do.”
“How is he, then?”
“Walter’s actually doing quite well. He got his degree in criminal justice and then went through the police academy. Graduated with honors.” She blushed. “He’s been working with Chief Viscuglia on the force for the past three years, and now he’s applied to become a detective. Should be hearing back any any day now. That business in Half Moon Bay a few years ago really inspired him to want to catch bad guys.”
“Well, good for him. I’d love to see him again. He was such a sincere young man. I really liked him.”
“I like him, too.” Cecilia voice was quiet.
Now that was interesting. I smiled. “Well, I must be off to dinner.”
The sun was beginning to set as I strolled past the other casitas. A few guests sat on their balconies enjoying appetizers and drinks. I could hear snippets of conversations and an occasional laugh. A slight chilly breeze came up, and I pulled my black leather coat closer around me as I meandered along the flagstone paths.
Pausing at the giant saguaro cactus to figure out which way to walk, I turned left and followed alongside the deep-blue infinity-edged pool. A blazing fire rising from a giant stone bowl at the far end created a truly unique setting.
The huge red rock formation of Camelback Mountain reflected the magnificent sunset and created a dramatic fiery orange backdrop. I noticed, not for the first time, a small outcropping high up on the right side of the formation, standing alone and aptly named The Praying Monk. The figure could be seen from a small clerestory window in the entry of the hotel, as well as from any casita that had a view. Clearly, a touch of Frank Lloyd Wright.
If the murderer was someone involved with the grant contest, perhaps he or she felt the eyes of God looking down through this edifice, even right this moment.
Arthur Wingate was a head taller than most men, so it made it easy to spot him. His black hair was only slightly grayed at the temples, and he was in great shape for a middle-aged man. I couldn’t help but smile at his attire, which was a typical professorial buttoned-down blue shirt topped with a tan micro fiber sports coat, Dockers slacks, and tennis shoes. He spoke in a strong bass voice that I loved hearing.
Upon spotting me, he boomed. “Jillian, it’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too. You look well, all things considered.”
“Thanks, it’s probably due to the fact that I’m mostly a vegetarian. I also work out at the fitness center close to my office.”
“I work out only when I feel guilty!”
We both laughed.
“You look wonderful, as always. How was your flight? Did you bring Teddy?”
“Yes, he’s back in the room with Cecilia. The flight was quick and uneventful, so Teddy did just fine.”
Arthur became a little less animated, and I could sense an undercurrent of tension as he spoke. “I want to thank you for coming, considering the circumstances.”
“Well, my bags were already packed. How is Diana holding up through this awful ordeal?”
“She’ll be all right. I'm worried about me. I’ve never seen a dead body before, and what’s worse, I knew him.”
“It must have been horrible. You told me he was part of the Florida team?”
“That’s correct. Let’s get something to drink, and I’ll fill you in.”
A smiling young server dressed in a black shirt and slacks came to wait on us.
Arthur ordered a glass of Cabernet, and I stuck with cranberry juice with a twist of lime. The bar was almost empty, so we had privacy to talk. The only people nearby were a couple of young women in the restaurant area having an early dinner. They were smiling and talking, probably friends catching up.
Arthur stood. “Let’s take our drinks outside. It looks like there’s no one on the patio right now, and I want you to enjoy the view.”
We watched the magnificent sunset spread out behind the majestic purple mountains. Deep oranges, reds, gold, and grays filled the canopy as the sun slipped quietly over the mountain’s rim, silhouetted darkly against the sky. Soon, we were overlooking the twinkling lights of Paradise Valley.
Arthur Wingate was a gentleman in every way. Comfortable with who he was, he never put on airs. He knew botany like no one else and loved and respected mother earth. Although he was 57, he acted like a man of 40, with all the energy and passion of a man of 20 who had just discovered what he enjoyed doing and couldn’t wait to get started. Every new species Arthur learned about garnered his full attention, but when a rare and endangered species was in his sights, he focused so completely one had to believe his sheer will would keep it from dying out.
“We have just a few minutes, Jillian, but here’s what I know so far. I told you how I found Rene. He was quite dead, of course, but there was a look of surprise on his face.”
“You mean like when dead people meet their Maker?”
“I know you’re a Christian, Jillian, and it could have been that, but when I saw him, it reminded me of that program where the expert can tell if a person is lying or not by their body language. I don’t know. It was just strange. And as I’ve said, I’ve never seen a dead body before.” 
“I’ve seen two dead bodies, and they didn’t look surprised at all. You may have something, Arthur. Did you tell the police?”
“Yes, but when I mentioned it, the police didn’t act as if it was important. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget seeing his face.”
“I know it must have been a terrible shock. Have the police found any motive yet?”
“I don’t think they have any idea why he was murdered or who could have murdered him. Nothing was taken from the office, and there wasn’t evidence of a break in, so it had to have been someone he knew or someone who was there that day or that night.”
“I’m sure you’ve told the police who was there at the time, haven’t you?”
“That’s the trouble. I left shortly before everyone else, and there were about seven or eight people still there after our meeting with the grant people.”
“Why did you leave early?”
“Can’t talk now. Here comes the group.”
One by one, Arthur introduced me to everyone, and the server led us to a large secluded table overlooking the patio. An affable gentleman named Herbert Jamison sat next to me. Herbert was the grant facilitator.
“Arthur tells me you’re a columnist for the Enterprise, Jillian.” He picked up his water glass and waited for me to comment.
Wow. Self-confident and charming. “I write the ‘Ask Jillian’ gardening column every week.” 
“Yes, I read it every week online.” Mark Russell nodded his head. He seemed to approve.
Arthur had introduced Mark as his main research assistant and the systems administrator for the Arizona team.
Everyone seems so young! How is that possible? Guess I’m getting old.
“I’m flattered, Mark.” I noted the nice way he was dressed, in a black turtleneck and tweed sports jacket. He wore his medium brown hair closely cropped, and his skin had the pale tone of one who sat at a computer all day.
Being the consummate matchmaker, I also noted the lack of a wedding ring on his finger.
The server took our orders and made sure our water glasses stayed full.
I turned to the man on my left and said, “Dr. Fontaine, I’ve followed your work in Florida for years. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
“Why, thank you, Jillian. But I think you probably outrank me in notoriety with your gardening column.”
Everyone chuckled. The ice had been broken.
Dr. Fontaine’s eyes seemed to twinkle. “That article you did on the demise of the blue agaves was most interesting. Pesky weevils. I suppose if you tried to eradicate them some irate weevil-loving group would get a protection law passed.”
I blushed at his compliment. “Well, I’m sure they’d meet with resistance from the tequila makers and their growing markets. Tequila is big business, you know.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. I thought I could tell by certain expressions who the tequila lovers were. I surmised Dr. Vincent Fontaine was one. A real sanguine kind of person I figured—expressive—life of the party, no doubt. However, he was likable and kept the conversation light and amenable.
The woman sitting next to him jumped in. “My father is our consultant from the Florida Department of Agriculture. He knows more about endangered plants in Florida than anyone alive.”
Dr. Leah Fontaine was the Director of Research for the Preservation Society of the Florida Everglades and head of the Florida project. She had the thin figure of a model and wore her jet-black hair sleekly up, crowning her lovely oval face. She wore a striking blue camisole with her charcoal gray business suit. Ironically, I had almost bought a camisole just like it a few weeks ago but thought it too expensive.
“He’s pretty amazing.” Tori DeMarco, the young woman introduced to me as Leah’s administrative assistant, agreed.
Nothing really stood out about Tori except for her blue eyes, peering out against her beautiful olive complexion. She wore her ash blond hair in a simple ponytail. Tori seemed quiet, but maybe this was not unusual. Perhaps she just kept to herself, owing to a melancholy temperament.
Leah commented at one point that Tori was an excellent administrative assistant, highly efficient down to the smallest detail. Even though Leah had been complimentary, there was still a distinctive undercurrent of tension between the two women. I decided to find an opportunity to acquaint myself with both of them as soon as I could.
Vincent Fontaine’s voice brought me back to the present world of the dinner. “My dear colleagues, I appreciate your endorsements, but I think we should wait until the winner of the grant has been announced before singing my praises.”
Arthur smiled. “No matter who wins, I think what’s especially important is that we find ways to protect those species that can’t protect themselves against the human element.”
“You’re right of course, Arthur.” Vincent nodded. “Too bad we can’t discuss our projects in such a friendly atmosphere as this, but the grantors do have their rules in this competition.”
“Well,” Herbert interjected, “everyone is welcome to discuss both projects as soon as the grant has been awarded. It seemed the only fair way to go about funding $2 million. You must understand that most research competitions are cutthroat. I think it’s rare that both of your teams have collaborated in the past and are as comfortable with each other as you are.”
Everyone had their drink orders, so Herbert raised a toast of good luck to the winner of the Peter and Elise Hansen Grant for the Preservation of Endangered Flora.
“Cheers.” The room echoed with the toast.
“And a toast to Rene Parker, may he rest in peace.” Vincent Fontaine added a sobering note.
“To Rene,” everyone repeated.
The server brought a delicious spiced soup to start. Others had the mixed field greens with jicama and cilantro vinaigrette. The food was a combination of Asian and southwestern fare, but I played it safe by ordering the roasted free range organic chicken breast on top of mashed sweet corn pudding and creamed spinach. To keep my weight down, I only ate half-portions. I saved a few morsels to take to Teddy.
Soon, the conversation turned to the murder. It began with Richard Sanchez, head of field studies for the Florida team. His tousled brown hair kept to what was in fashion for the young men of today. He must have spent most of his life outdoors by the look of his handsome tanned complexion.
“Well, Arthur. Have the police found out anything about who killed Rene?”
Before answering, Arthur took a healthy sip of water and wiped his mouth. “I only wish they had found something out by now. It’s been two days. I’m meeting with the detective tomorrow. Maybe he’ll know something by then.”
“I can’t believe he’s gone.” Leah sighed.
“How long had Rene worked for you?” I had to ask.
“For two years.” She looked at me, thoughtfully.
“I’m truly sorry, Dr. Fontaine.”
“Thank you, Jillian.”
“Rene was really good at what he did.” Richard spoke up. “He was a top notch researcher, and we really depended on him for our tech support.”
“It will be hard to replace him with someone with his unique skill set.” Leah shook her head. “In the meantime, I’ll have to depend on Tori and Richard to fill in until we can hire someone else.”
“At least your project was submitted before all this happened.” Herbert took the dessert menu the server was distributing around the table.
“Yes, that was fortunate, wasn’t it?” Leah smiled.
The idea of the Grand Marnier crème brulee with fresh berries and whipped cream set my mouth watering. I ordered one accompanied by a favorite of mine, cappuccino.
The man sitting on my right was Warren Burkett. The only person who hadn’t spoken all evening had me intrigued, and I turned toward him. He was Arthur’s assistant director and was certainly worth knowing.
“You’ve been awfully quiet all evening, Warren. Are you feeling all right?”
He gave a wry smile. “Oh, I’m fine. I just keep wondering who the last person to leave the office was before Rene was murdered. I know I left before Tori and Richard.”
“And I left before Mark,” Herbert added his comment, “because I remember he said he was going out to celebrate and needed to call a taxi.”
Arthur turned toward Mark. “I suppose you were going to celebrate posting the final submittal.”
I wanted to head off a confrontation. “I think we’d better leave the details to the police for all concerned.”
“Jillian’s right.” Leah’s father added. “Let the police figure it out. I don’t know about the other team, but I’m exhausted after this whole thing. We’d better call it a night.”
He stood, and as if on cue, Leah put her napkin to the left of her plate, glanced around and said goodnight to everyone. Richard Sanchez and Tori DeMarco stood up, thanked Herbert for the dinner, and bade us goodnight. Since Herbert did not seem to be in any hurry, the rest of us lingered over our dessert and coffee, making small talk.
Herbert commented about how difficult it must be for everyone to have a murder hanging over their heads along with the stress of the ceremony. Winning a much hoped for injection of funds for research could mean a lot to an academic career.
I finally stood, thanked Herbert for a lovely dinner, and told Arthur I would see him in the morning at eight o’clock sharp.
Ah, jet lag. I was beginning to feel it. Since it was an hour later here in Arizona, the thought of not having much time for sleep made me weary. When I returned to my room and ran my passkey across the lock, Teddy barked furiously.
After I let myself in, I scooped him up gently—all four-and-a-half pounds—and gave him a hug and a kiss on top of his sweet little brown head, right between his long, silky, perked up ears. I often thought his hair looked like I had streaked it on purpose because of the blond highlights.
Cecilia was still up.
“Hi, Cecilia, has Teddy been out?”
“I just let him out. How was the dinner?”
“Well, it was interesting meeting everyone. The only one I didn’t meet was Arthur’s administrative assistant because she was just getting over the flu. But he said she’d be at work in the morning, so I’ll meet her then. I brought Teddy some leftovers.”
“What would you like me to do tomorrow?”
“Why don’t you book me that gardens tour in the afternoon? I’ll also need you to take Teddy for a walk after breakfast and after his afternoon nap. Afterward, you’re free to do anything you like, as long as Teddy is with you. I haven’t let him out of my sight since Half Moon Bay.”
“I totally understand, Jillian. Don’t worry—I’ll take good care of him. I have some articles to go over for my editor, so I’ll keep busy here in the room. See you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, Cecilia, pleasant dreams.
“Let’s go to bed, Teddy. We have a big day tomorrow. I’m going to have to look at where that poor man was murdered. Then there’s the garden tour.”
I put him gently down, and he laid his head on his paws, ready to go to sleep. After I crawled between the smooth sheets and pulled the down comforter close, I felt as if I was sleeping in a cloud.
I flicked off the lamp, but lay awake on my back. It was hard to imagine any of those people shooting a colleague, but I suppose anything was possible. If there was enough of a motive. Rene must have terribly upset someone. Maybe tomorrow I would learn more.
My eyelids grew heavy as I thought about Mark’s comments regarding who left the office after him. I thought about Leah Fontaine’s apparent composure after the ghastly affair, since it had taken place only a few short days before. Of course, she still might be in shock. That had happened to me after receiving the news of my husband’s death in Vietnam. All I felt was numbness. Couldn’t function. So empty…alone.
I miss you, my darling, but I will see you again…in Heaven.

Read on! 




See you in my books!
~Nancy Jill