Second Bloom Page 3

  “I can’t discuss the case with you, Ms. Donnelly.”

  “You can’t tell me anything? Not even if he’s been brought in for fingerprinting?”

  “No, Ma’am. I’m sorry.”

  “Officer, Juan has worked for me for over ten years. He’s an honest, hardworking, gentle man. He’s incapable of hurting anyone.”

  Officer Rivera raised her left eyebrow and nodded as if in agreement, but said no more. As they reached the middle of the entry lobby, a middle-aged woman wearing a no-nonsense, navy blue business suit and crisp white blouse came up to Officer Rivera and handed her a manila folder. “Manelli said to tell you to call him with the results as soon as I gave them to you,” the woman said.

  Officer Rivera took the folder. “Thanks.” She turned to Holly and Ivy and said, “Sorry, I have to run. The exit door is right over there,” she pointed and turned back in the direction of the corridor they’d just come through. “Thanks again for coming in,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried off.

  Just as Holly and Ivy started walking to the exit, swinging doors burst open from a corridor to their left. Two uniformed policemen entered the lobby escorting a man in handcuffs.

  “Oh, no!” groaned Holly.

  “What?” Ivy asked.

  “That’s, Juan.” Holly turned and headed in the direction of the three men.

  “Holly, wait.”

  Holly didn’t look back. As she got closer, the policeman on the left realized she was approaching them, and held up his arm, his palm facing out.

  “Ma’am, stop,” he shouted. “You don’t belong here.”

  Holly stood still. “I know the man you’ve got in handcuffs. I just want to talk to him.”

  The policeman, who could have played fullback for the NY Giants, shook his head and positioned himself directly in front of Juan. “No. You can’t. You need to leave.”

  Suddenly, the swinging doors opened again, and Detective Manelli came striding through.

  “Great,” he said when he saw Holly. He walked over and got between her and the policeman. “Ms. Donnelly, what are you doing here?”

  Before she could answer, over his shoulder he yelled at the police officers still standing behind him, “What are you waiting for? Move it!”

  As the police officers turned and resumed their walk across the lobby, Holly caught a glimpse of Juan in grass-stained jeans and a faded tee-shirt. Looking pale and frightened, he called out to her as he was led away. “Ms. Donnelly, I no do this. Ayudame, por favor. Please, please help me.”

  “What are you doing here, Ms. Donnelly?” Manelli repeated.

  Holly stood watching as Juan and the two police officers disappeared through the corridor arch. She turned and frowned at Manelli.

  “We’re here at your request, Detective. Remember?”

  Ivy came up alongside her, latching on to her arm. “We were on our way out when the policemen came in with Juan.”

  “Why were you alone?” he demanded.

  “Because someone handed Officer Rivera a folder and said you wanted her to call you as soon as she got it. She, too, was following your orders.” Holly nearly spit out the words.

  Ivy sighed loudly. “Holly, really. Detective, we’re sorry …”

  “Sorry? Sorry for what?” Holly asked, scowling at Ivy. Turning to Manelli, she asked, “Why was Juan Alvarez in handcuffs?”

  Manelli stood, returning her glare, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Let’s go.” Ivy tugged Holly’s arm.

  “No, I want to know why Juan’s in handcuffs. We were questioned and fingerprinted and we weren’t handcuffed. Is it because he’s Mexican, Detective?”

  Except for a visible tightening along the line of his jaw, Manelli didn’t move or change expression.

  “She didn’t mean that,” Ivy said looking from Manelli back to Holly. Raising her voice, she said, “We’re leaving right now!”

  Ivy pulled so hard on Holly’s arm that she spun her slightly around. With momentum on her side, Ivy pushed Holly to the door. Manelli remained standing in the center of the lobby shaking his head as he watched them exit.

  4 WHAT TO DO?

  The sisters didn’t speak a word on the way home. In the kitchen Holly dropped her handbag on the table, went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea.

  “Want some?” she asked, making eye contact with Ivy for the first time since they left police headquarters.

  “Yes,” Ivy answered going over to the cupboard to get glasses. “Can we sit on the patio?”

  “Sure. Bring the glasses.” Holly held the door open. Lucky ran out first.

  The sisters stepped under the green canvas canopy that shaded the patio and walked over to the round cast-iron table nestled in the far corner of the 10-ft. x 10-ft. space. Ivy placed the glasses on the table and Holly poured. Ivy took her glass and dropped onto the cushioned chaise in the corner opposite the table.

  “Your houseplants certainly look happy out here,” Ivy said looking at the two baker’s racks spilling over with lush, green foliage at the patio’s edge. When Holly didn’t respond, she continued. “Do you feel like going to the garden center to get plants for those?” She pointed to empty clay pots that lined the shelves of a two-tiered plant stand that matched the patio furniture.

  Holly bit her lip and sank down on the loveseat angled to the right of Ivy’s chaise. “Listen. There’s no way that Juan could have murdered Edna.”

  Ivy sighed. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I know him. He’s one of the most honest men I know. You have no idea how many times I run out to do errands leaving the house unlocked when he’s working in the yard. He’s never even stolen so much as a garden tool, and he certainly had ample opportunity. Besides, what reason could he have for killing Edna? It’s just not possible.” Holly shook her head and looked out to the raised vegetable beds at the back of the yard.

  “All right. He does work for you. But how well do you really know him?”

  “Are you kidding me? I know everything about him. Whenever he works on daylong projects, I make lunch, and we eat in the kitchen or on the patio. I speak about as much Spanish as he does English, so we manage to communicate pretty well. He’s told me all about his life in Mexico and his two sons who are still living there with his parents. Even though he misses them, he doesn’t want to bring them to America until they‘re finished with high school. He’s worried they might get involved with gangs if he brings them here too young.”

  “And he’s not worried about gangs in Mexico? I read they’re a real problem there.”

  “That’s in the cities--not in the country where his parents live. You should hear him talk about the garden he had there and his fruit trees. Does that sound like a murderer to you?”

  “No, I admit he doesn’t sound like a murderer. But you …” Ivy looked down at the glass of tea in her hand.

  “What?”

  Ivy looked up and frowned. “I’m sorry, but you are a bleeding-heart. Always the champion of the underdog.”

  “Is that so wrong?”

  “It’s not wrong, but the guy works for you occasionally. I’m just saying you may not know him as well as you think.”

  “He more than works for me.” Holly stood up, walked over to the table and put her glass down. With her back to Ivy, she said, “We’re compadres.”

  Ivy sat up straight. “What does that mean? You’re friends? Lovers? What?”

  “No. Being a compadre is a special relationship.” She turned and faced Ivy. “I’m his daughter’s Godmother.”

  “What! How old is she?”

  “Five.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “Because I felt that you and Dave wouldn’t approve. Am I wrong?”

  “It’s not that we wouldn’t have approved. Dave just always worried that as a single woman by yourself, you’re what he called an ‘easy touch.’”

  “Really?”

 
“Not just him. I worry the same thing. You’re too open sometimes.”

  “Look, I’m an old maid with no children. If I want to spend a little on this child, why shouldn’t I?”

  Ivy stopped, shrugged and took a sip of tea. “First of all, you’re hardly an old maid, but you are right. You worked for what you have and should be able to do whatever you want with it. But right now, I’m concerned about your getting involved trying to help someone who could be a murderer.”

  “I know.” Holly sank into a chair near the table. “I’m so sorry. Why did this have to happen now, when you’re here?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m here to stop you from doing anything crazy.”

  “Crazy or not, I know I have to do something.”

  “Why? I know you want to help, but realistically, what can you do?”

  “But I feel partly responsible.”

  “What are you talking about? How are you responsible?”

  “If I hadn’t introduced Juan to Edna, this never would have happened to him.”

  “Please. I can’t believe you’re even thinking that. Aren’t you the one always stopping me dead in my tracks when I start blaming myself for things? You’re the first one to say that you can’t control what other people do. Besides, you did a good thing. You said Juan was happy for the extra work.”

  “I know. I know.” Holly sighed and moved to the edge of her chair. “What’s killing me is Juan doesn’t have anybody to turn to. You saw how the police reacted when I tried to say anything positive about him. If I had evidence against him, I’m sure they’d sit me right down and take notes. Juan’s Mexican. Therefore, he must be guilty. They don’t want to hear anything that might contradict their take on things.”

  “So let’s just say I agree with you. My question still is what can you realistically do to help him?”

  “I’m not sure. At least I can speak up for him. Be like a character reference, right?”

  It was Ivy’s turn to sigh. “I suppose so.”

  “Maybe I should I go back down to Police Headquarters and see if they’ll let me talk to him.” Holly stood up again, pacing this time. “He probably needs to make bail. Maybe I could help with that. I know he doesn’t have any money. And he’s going to need a lawyer, too. The court will appoint a lawyer, but you know those guys aren’t the best.” She shook her head and shrugged. “The police seem so sure it’s Juan that they may not even look any further, and a mediocre lawyer isn’t likely to investigate other suspects.” She stopped pacing and turned to Ivy. “What do you think I should do?”

  Ivy sat up straight, smiled a weak smile and took a deep breath before she began her reply. “First of all, slow down. Even if I agree that Juan doesn’t sound like a killer, I’m not convinced that you can help him. You can’t put up his bail or pay for a lawyer. He could never pay you back. And, if the police and his lawyer won’t investigate other suspects, honestly, how can you?”

  “I don’t know.” Holly dropped heavily back into her chair.

  Ivy shook her head. “You know I’ve always admired your ability to speak up when everyone else was afraid, but this is different somehow. Talking to that detective last night made me uncomfortable. Maybe it’s just getting older. I only know I feel more vulnerable now. I know you’re worried about Juan, but I’m worried about you.”

  “I get that,” Holly replied leaning back in her chair, looking upward. After a moment she sat forward and clenched her fists. “I, too, hate getting old. I didn’t want to admit it before when you said it. I used to be brave, but now I feel afraid. Sometimes, if I’m someplace where people are talking politics, I don’t even want to express an opinion. Can you imagine that?” She clutched her hand to her chest. “Me? Worried that someone might do something to me because I disagree with them on a political issue. I won’t even let anyone put campaign signs in the yard, because I’m afraid the opposition will trash the place or hurt the dog. Isn’t that just pathetic?” Her eyes glistened.

  “No. It’s normal to feel that way. That’s what everybody feels mostly all the time. And if the way you spoke to the police yesterday and today was your idea of being afraid, then I’m really worried about you. Can’t you just for once let someone else battle the bad guys? Someone younger?” Ivy’s shoulders sagged and she sank back into the cushioned chaise.

  “That just breaks my heart,” Holly lamented. Getting up from the table and walking over to the loveseat, she propped a pillow on the arm and lay down. “I feel exhausted,” she said closing her eyes.

  With only the sound of a light breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees, before long the sisters each drifted off to sleep.

  *************************

  Around 5:30, Lucky’s bark woke them. Holly grilled steaks while Ivy made the salad. After dinner, they walked around the park, avoiding Crescent Drive. Neither mentioned Juan or Edna.

  Back home, the sisters agreed on a full line-up of sitcoms on CBS. At ten o’clock, Ivy stood up and stretched her arms over her head. “In spite of that nap earlier, I’m tired.”

  “Me, too. Maybe I’ll read in bed awhile.” Holly said, sitting up.

  “Not a murder mystery, I hope.”

  “No,” Holly laughed. “I’m reading Anna Quindlin’s Still Life with Breadcrumbs. It’s actually a bit of a romance.”

  “Speaking of romance,” Ivy said bending to pick up her shoes, “what do you think of that detective? In spite of the fact that talking to him scared me a little, he was kind of a hunk, no? And no wedding ring either.”

  “First of all, I think he’s a racist, sexist creep, and secondly, how do you notice things like wedding rings when you’re being questioned about a murder?”

  “How do you not notice?” Ivy shook her head. “No wonder you never got married.”

  “Don’t let’s get started on that topic.” Holly aimed the remote at the TV, shutting it off. As she went to check that the front door was locked, she said, “I wonder how Juan is doing right now.”

  Ivy heaved a weary sigh, shaking her head. “Do me one favor. Just get some sleep. Who knows? Maybe by morning the police will realize that Juan is not the murderer, and we can go to the garden center, pick flowers and play in the dirt to our hearts’ content tomorrow.”

  “Wouldn’t that be great?” Holly said, starting up the stairs. “Did you notice I put a TV in your bedroom?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “My bedroom? Don’t you mean the guestroom?”

  Holly reached the upstairs hallway and turned to face Ivy. “I’ve come to think of it as your room. It could be yours, permanently,” she said.

  “Now it’s my turn to say ‘don’t let’s get started on that topic.’ I told you before. I’m not ready to even think about moving, and if you’re going to spend the rest of my visit trying to get me to …”

  “Okay, okay,” Holly held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Not another word. I promise.”

  “Like you promised to stay calm this morning?” Ivy asked as she stepped into the guest room.

  Holly grimaced as she stood in her bedroom doorway facing Ivy. “I …”

  “Good night,” Ivy said as she closed the bedroom door.

  5 KATE FARMER

  “Mirror, Mirror on the wall, will I be able to sleep at all?” Holly stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and shook her head. Returning to her room, she closed the door, careful not to make any noise. She grabbed the accent pillows from the bed and tossed them in the corner beside the nightstand. Pulling back the fluffy comforter she sat down at the edge of the bed.

  Was there any point in lying down? She thought of Juan trying to sleep in a jail cell. Shaking herself, she stood up and walked over to her glider/recliner. Sinking down into the chair, she put her head back and closed her eyes. Just as she started to relax, she again pictured Juan’s face as he walked across the police lobby in handcuffs.

  She turned on the reading lamp beside the chair, bending down and flipping through the magazine
s in the basket on the floor: Martha Stewart Living, InStyle, Redbook. She sat back up and instead reached for Still Life with Bread Crumbs, resting on the table beside the chair. Standing up, she shut off the table lamp, got in bed, and after just a few pages, she started feeling drowsy. Shutting off the light, she sank into the pillows, hopeful this time she would fall asleep.

  The image of Juan, scared and pale, popped back up, and Holly began clicking through her mental checklist of what she would do in the morning. After an hour of tossing and turning, she once again sat up. Turning on the nightstand light, she got out of bed and listened at the door. The TV was still on in Ivy’s room, but she knew that didn’t mean Ivy was awake. She smiled thinking about how Ivy always set the sleep timer for the maximum amount of time, and then fell asleep after about five minutes into a program.

  Holly went over to her nightstand, sat down on the bed, picked up the phone and speed dialed number 2.

  “Hello.”

  “Kate, it’s Holly. Did I wake you?”

  “Are you kidding? Of course, not. But what are you doing up this late?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I just had to talk to someone.”

  “Hey, wasn’t yesterday the day Ivy was supposed to arrive? Is something wrong with Ivy? Is she okay?”

  “No, no. Everything is okay. Ivy arrived on time and she’s fine.”

  “Then what’s up?”

  “I don’t want to tell you right out. I want you to do a reading. I know it’s late and this is an imposition …”

  “Don’t be silly. Hang on while I go get the Tarot Cards.”

  Holly propped up three of the four pillows against the headboard, lay back and pulled the top sheet up to cover herself. She smiled picturing her friend rummaging through her “Tarot Bag” at the bottom of her bedroom closet in upstate New York.

  “Okay, I’m back,” Kate said. “I’ll shuffle as you focus on your question. By the way, do you want me to do a full reading?”

  “No, just the three cards.”

  “Okay. I’m going to hold the cards up to the phone. Blow into the speaker.”