Jillian’s Garden Club’s Fall Color Tour Interrupted by Murder Book 9 “Murder at Mirror Lake”

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When Jillian and her garden club friends decide to take a fall color tour in New England, they have no idea the resort they choose as home base will soon be a setting for murder. And more than one. Who killed the hotel's head chef in his own kitchen and why? His curisine was excellent, but his personality left a bad taste. Together with Jillian's Yorkie companion, Teddy, and the help of her garden club, Jillian works with Police Chief Mark Taylor in uncovering the killer.

CHAPTER ONE

It was Ann Fieldman’s turn to host the Garden Club this month. Ann was my best friend and a woman I much admired. Not only was she a beautiful, sophisticated brunette, towering above my 5' 3'' frame, Ann was a world traveler with a master’s degree in French.

In a way, I dreaded our time together for fear she and my other garden club friends would ask about my recent trip to Costa Rica to visit the botanist I should have married.

It wasn’t that the trip turned out badly – the visit was quite enjoyable, except for the uncomfortable way we parted.

I heaved a long sigh and cast a loving glance at Teddy, the little brown fur ball with blond highlights sitting at my feet. He cocked his head and yipped at the set of keys jingling in my hand.

“Yes, sweet doggie. You’re coming with me to Ann’s. I know you’re excited. I’ll let you outside in the yard for a minute. After you’ve finished, I’ll get your leash and we’ll be ready to go.”

Teddy wagged his tail and panted at the mention of the word “go.” It was one of his favorite words along with “walk,” “fetch,” and “dinner.”

After buckling him safely in his special car seat, we headed to Ann’s house through the golden, rolling hills of the Bay Area. Though the hills were referred to as “golden” because of the 1849 Gold Rush, I always thought of them as golden due to the dead grass.

When we arrived, I noticed other garden club members’ cars parked in front. It appeared Nicole King and Dominique Summers were early.

Or was I late?

“Come on, Teddy. Let me get you out of your seat and get your leash on.” I attached his red-rhinestone leash, which looked a little worn, to his collar, picked him up gently and made our way to the front door, and knocked.

“We must buy you a new leash. I can’t have you looking neglected in front of my friends.” How nice, I thought, to be able to shop for one online.

Within seconds, Ann answered the door wearing a turquoise sleeveless blouse and a pair of dressy white slacks. As always, she looked stunning.

Turquoise was her favorite color. Second only to purple, most of her clothes were turquoise. Even the walls in her family room were painted in her favorite color.

“Jillian!” She gave me a hug and peck on the cheek.

“Good to see you, Ann. I Hope you don’t mind Teddy coming with me.”

“Not at all. Teddy is always welcome. Come in.” She gently scratched his ear. “Hi, little cutie.”

With Teddy’s leash and my purse added to the others on the entry bench, he rushed into the other room to greet the other ladies. I glanced around at Ann’s lovely home and admired the magnificent view of her backyard filled with summer blooming shrubs and towering redwood trees, which bordered along the rear fence.

We’d been friends for so many years. I still remember when Ann first planted them. Yes, a walk around the grounds was definitely in order before I had to face the others.

Nicole smiled as I entered the family room. “Jillian, it’s good to see you again.” She was the savvy financial advisor of our group. We looked as different as night and day – she with her beautiful, long black tresses and me with my shoulder length blonde hair.

“How was your trip?” she asked.

A typical question I would ask someone. Why did I hedge?

“I had a good time. Thanks for asking. How’s your family?” Would she notice my avoiding the subject?

Diminutive Dominique, ever the shy one, hugged me gently. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” she said as she searched me with her large brown eyes. “You’ve been to Costa Rica, I hear.”

It was no use. My friends would not rest until I told them about going to see my old flame, Vincent Fontaine. Perhaps I’d throw them a bone for distraction.

“Before Jillian tells us all about her trip, let’s have a walk in the garden,” Ann said. “Afterward, we’ll have tea.”

Good. A reprieve. Time to think of unimportant but placating details to keep my friends from knowing the truth about what had happened. Why was I so worried? Even I didn’t know what Vincent meant by what he said.

The garden was exquisite with deep blue morning glories climbing along the fence, rich magenta bougainvillea trellised on the deck wall, and a contemporary fountain bubbling in the middle of the courtyard in the side yard.

Ann was an accomplished gardener as well as a host extraordinaire.

The table was beautifully set for tea with ivory linens, a bouquet of lilacs, and “Old Country Roses” china Ann inherited from her mother. It was sad her mom died at such an early age from bone cancer. They were close. Since I was eight years older than Ann was, she often regarded me as a mother figure, which I didn’t mind at all.

After we took our places at her lovely table, Ann offered milk for our tea, poured out, and stirred in sugar for those like me who insisted on sweetness.

“I’m serving your favorite mix of Darjeeling and Earl Grey in honor of your return trip, Jillian.”

“How nice. Thank you. I’m convinced it tastes like the tea we had in London.”

I swallowed hard, remembering the good times. And the bad.

Teddy patiently waited at my feet for any morsels I might choose to share. He was an intelligent little thing, especially when it came to making his desires understood. His nose twitched as he sniffed the air for possibilities.

The tea fare was delicious. Ann chose to serve quiche Florentine, a pear and gorgonzola salad with champagne vinaigrette, and fresh fruit compotes rimmed with green sugar. It was a lovely touch.

“We can’t wait any longer, Jillian. Tell us about Costa Rica,” Ann said.

The others chuckled.

I took a long sip of tea and offered Teddy a bite of quiche.

He almost bit my hand off. Maybe I didn’t feed him enough breakfast this morning,

“I’m sorry, Ann. You were saying?”

The women stared at me, astonished!

I cleared my throat. “Costa Rica was beautiful. I stayed with Vincent’s friends who were gracious, and we had an enjoyable time together. He showed me all over the country including the botanical research facility where he works at the university. You know how much he’s into orchids.”

My friends looked serious. They must have known something had happened between Vincent and me.

“So, what happened?” Nicole asked.

I took a deep breath. “I’m not really sure. On the way to the airport as I left, Vincent admitted he wasn’t going to marry me.”

Gasps all around the table.

Dominique scrunched her face. “Wasn’t going to marry you or couldn’t marry you, Jillian?”

“He may have said couldn’t, but all I heard was the ‘wasn’t’ part.” 

I broke down, laid my napkin on the table, and scooped Teddy up into my arms. “I’m sorry. Excuse me for a moment, please.”

My friends sat stunned, but only for a few moments until they followed me into the living room.

I sat on the curved white sofa trying not to cry. “I’m sorry to have ruined your tea, Ann. It wasn’t fair after all the trouble you went through.”

She put her arm around my shoulder, and gently stroked Teddy. “I’m sure Vincent had a good reason for saying he can’t marry you.”

“If what you say is true, why didn’t he tell me what it was? It’s as if he doesn’t trust my love for him enough to support him through something awful. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you at first, but now I’m glad to get it out.”

Nicole hugged me. “We love you, Jillian.”

“We’re your friends and we care about you,” Dominique said.

She had a point.

I caught Nicole whispering to Ann in a conspiratorial manner. What were they up to?

I remembered when I had met each one. Ann, a full time mom, playing with her son as I sat in the neighborhood park resting from taking Teddy on a walk. Striking up friendships with Nicole and Dominique working together on a committee for a neighborhood event.

Our group clicked once we found out how much each of us enjoyed gardening. Soon after, we formed our Garden Club – an excuse to meet once a month for lunch and take in each others’ gardening endeavors.

Teddy licked my hand as if trying to console me.

I smiled at him, and looked at my dear friends. “Thank you, ladies. Your friendship over the years is precious. I’m sure I’ll get over this disappointment, but after all I have been through, it hurts.”

“We can understand,” Nicole said. “You’ve suffered from the loss of two husbands.”

“Thanks, Nicole. Losing one in Vietnam was bad enough, but losing Prentice at our reception was horrible. Oh dear, listen to me discussing unpleasant subjects at tea. I should be ashamed!”

“It’s okay, Jillian,” Ann said. “Speaking of which, if we’re finished, I think it’s time for the surprise.”

Aha! It was close to my birthday, there might be a birthday cake. Any nice surprise in my life at this point would be welcome.

We gathered once again around the table and continued with our tea. The conversation turned to their children finding careers, working on graduate degrees, and hopes that finding mates in the near future would bring the promise of grandchildren.

“Refills?” Ann asked. She poured more steaming tea into my cup.

“How’s the godson, D.J., doing these days?” Dominique sipped her tea. “He’s almost two isn’t he?”

I swallowed a bite of quiche before I replied. “We celebrated his second birthday last December at my house...or rather, at Walter and Cecilia’s.”

“Oh, right.” Nicole used her napkin to wipe the corner of her mouth. “How do you like living in your new cottage? It was the old worker’s house you renovated on the back of your property, wasn’t it?”

“Actually, I like the coziness of the smaller space. It’s much easier to keep. But the best part of the move is I’m frequently a dinner guest in my old kitchen with Walter and Cecilia. She loves to cook, and with me entertaining D.J. while she whips up a meal is a win-win situation for both of us. Cooking for one grew tiresome after so many years.”

“I’m sure we’ll all eventually reach that point.” Nicole was being kind as usual.

As we finished eating, Dominique began clearing away dishes. “I can’t wait for Jillian to hear about the surprise.”

Nicole smiled. “Ann, may I help you with dessert?”

“Sure, I could use an extra set of hands.”

All three of my friends sang me Happy Birthday as Nicole carried in the fresh strawberry cake lit with a single candle.

I was touched. “Oh, thank you!”

Teddy yipped as if he expected me to give him a morsel, which made my friends chuckle.

“Make a wish, Jillian,” Ann said.

I closed my eyes, made a special wish to find the truth about Vincent, and blew out the candle.

“Ann, this cake is delicious.” I took another forkful of yellow butter cake frosted with whipped cream and strawberries. It tasted especially good with the tea.

“I’ll clean up later,” Ann said. “Let’s all go into the living room for the surprise.”

My curiosity was peaked! I took a seat on the sofa and held Teddy in my lap.

“What have you ladies been up to?” I asked. No visible birthday presents anywhere.  

Ann began. “The last time we met, you were in Costa Rica. We talked about many things but one thing in particular stayed with us.”

“We think we should take a girl’s getaway at least once before we’re too far over the hill,” Nicole said.

Dominique sat back and crossed her legs.

“You’ve mentioned on more than one occasion how much you’d love to see New England in the fall, Jillian,” Ann said.

“I’ve always dreamed of going to upstate New York. I’ve heard raves from people who’ve been there.”

“So if you’d like to join Nicole and me....”

“Unfortunately I’m on a buying trip to Zambia when they plan to go.” Dominique was a buyer for African art from her home country.

“We’ve planned a trip for the three of us!” Ann said.

Words wouldn’t come. After a moment, I said, “What a perfectly awesome idea!”

“Oh, good!” Ann said.

“I knew you’d like the idea.” Nicole hugged me.

“This is quite a birthday gift!” I was kidding, of course. “I don’t mind paying my own way.”

Nicole and Ann smiled at each other.

“It’s only part of the surprise.” Dominique uncrossed and crossed her legs again. “Why don’t you tell her the best part, Ann?”

Ann finished a bite of cake. “When I checked for tours and accommodations, there weren’t many venues who took dogs. Not even thinking about it, I found a photo of this charming colonial inn and called. The place sounded perfect until I mentioned Teddy.”

Nicole chimed in.

“Before Ann ended the call, the woman handling the reservations suddenly recognized who we were from our first murder incident in Half Moon Bay years ago.”

“Who was she?” I asked.

“Do you remember Ingrid Sorenson?” Ann asked.

I racked my brain.

“The woman who headed the master gardener program at LaBelles Nursery in Canyon Grove?” I leaned forward.

Teddy jumped off my lap, positioned himself at my feet, ears cocked, and waited for a morsel of cake.

I slipped him a tiny bite of strawberries and whipped cream, which he accepted gratefully with a wag of his tail.

“The same one,” Ann said. “When I mentioned your name and explained about Teddy, she graciously offered to let you stay in her cottage on the property. I told her we’d do our best to convince you.”

“Of course, Ann and I will stay at the inn. We reserved a suite overlooking Mirror Lake.”

“Mirror Lake?” I sat up. “That’s where we’re going? Isn’t it near Lake Placid where the winter Olympics was held?”

Dominique quickly checked Google for the information. “The one in 1932 and in 1980.”

“So you’re in, Jillian?” Ann nodded.

“I would love to see Ingrid again. What’s she doing in Lake Placid?”

Nicole accepted another refill from Ann, and spoke.

“After her husband passed away, her daughter, Claire, I think her name is, insisted she move closer to her. Claire is a host for a restaurant at the Mirror Lake Inn and helped her mother find a desk clerk job when there was an opening. Ingrid’s worked there three years now, she said.”

“How does she like living in upstate New York?” I asked.

Ann shrugged. “She said she loves the Adirondacks and most of the people she works with.”

Most was not lost on me.

Dominique furrowed her brow. “Didn’t Claire get married around here somewhere? Was it at the Canyon Grove Country Club?”

“I remember attending her wedding,” I said. “It was at Elliston Vineyards in Canyon Grove. A beautiful wedding, as I recall.”

“How did Claire wind up in Lake Placid? A bit far from home, don’t you think?” Nicole stood. “I need to leave soon for an appointment with a client.”

Nicole was always busy with clients since she knew how to make profitable investments.

Ann stood, too, and gathered empty plates. “Ingrid mentioned something about Claire’s husband, Sam. He’s finishing his degree online and working part time at one of the inn’s restaurants. Evidently, Sam is from the area. His father owns a local produce farm close by. Organic, I think she said.”

“Organic seems to be the trend now.” Dominique slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder to leave.

“I visited Lake Placid once,” she said. “Our son trained for the Iron Man one summer. The area is much different from the Bay Area. More beautiful, I think. I remember the town being quaint with a touch of Sweden.”

“It must have been the Olympic influence. Don’t they call sites like Lake Placid ‘Olympic villages?’”

Ann’s comment triggered images in my mind of snow covered mountain chalets.

“Wait a minute.” She took out her cell phone. “I have a picture of Mirror Lake Inn.”

The hotel reminded me of the inn in the movie White Christmas with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye. “How lovely. The structure looks old, typical of the region from what people have said about the area. I wonder if it’s owned by a chain.”

Nicole hugged us. “I really need to run. And by the way, the inn is family owned. It was built in 1924. I read the history on their website.”

“Interesting.” I wondered if Ingrid’s comment referred to one of the family.

Teddy started for the front door.

“Woof!” He barked.

I shook my head. “I think he’s trying to tell me it’s time to get home. Traffic will be heavy at this time of day. Ann, thank you for the tea party and birthday cake. You ladies have brightened my spirits. I’m grateful.

I secured Teddy’s leash. “By the way, when is the trip?”

“We leave mid-September.” Ann handed me my purse. “I was told it’s the peak season for leaf peepers.”

“Leaf peepers?” I asked.

She smiled. “That’s what they call us.”

“I can’t wait!”

For some reason the term ‘peepers’ made me think of the song, “Jeepers, Creepers,” and the recollection of a horror movie by the name of “Lake Placid” entered my mind.

I shuddered.

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See you in my books!

~Nancy Jill

What Happens in Book 2, The Ghost Orchid Murder?

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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 44^th 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.

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See you in my books!

~Nancy Jill