Second Bloom Page 4

  Holly laughed out loud. “Are we crazy, or what?”

  “Probably, but then, who isn’t? Now shut up and blow.”

  Holly did as she was told and waited. At the other end of the line, she heard an audible gasp.

  “What is it?” she asked sitting up in bed.

  “Holly, what’s going on down there?”

  “You, first. What are the cards?”

  Kate sighed heavily. “Okay. You drew Death, the Tower and, amazingly, the Ten of Cups.”

  “That’s bad, right?”

  “I don’t know. The death card doesn’t necessarily mean death. It can just be the end of something or a warning not to waste time, or …”

  “It means death, Kate. A neighbor of mine was murdered yesterday.”

  “Oh, no! I’m so sorry. Who was it?”

  “Edna Hagel. I don’t know if I ever told you about her. She lived across the park from me.”

  “Is she the master gardener who gave you the Gertrude Jekyll rosebush?”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t she, I mean, wasn’t she old? Who would want to murder her?”

  “Before we discuss that, please finish the reading.” Holly nestled back into the pillows.

  “The tower card shows a bolt of lightning hitting it. Like the death card, it usually means the end of something or it could be about a sudden change that we’re resistant to.”

  “And the Ten of Cups?”

  “Now that’s the odd thing. The Ten of Cups is about love, romantic love. It doesn’t seem to go with these other cards at all. Unless …”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless you’ve met someone. Are you holding out on me? Have you met a man?”

  “No! Of course, not.” Detective Manelli’s face popped into Holly’s head.

  “The problem with you is that Prince Charming could knock on your door, and before he could say anything, you’d tell him he must be at the wrong house.”

  Holly grimaced remembering that was exactly what she said when Ivy told her there was a good-looking man at the gate the night before.

  When Holly didn’t reply, Kate continued, “Think. You must have encountered a man somewhere for that card to …”

  “Look, I didn’t call you in the middle of the night to give me another lecture on how I need to make an effort to meet men. That’s your fantasy, not mine. Let’s get back to Edna Hagel.” Holly recounted the events of the last two days.

  “Wow!” said Kate. “No wonder you can’t sleep. What are you going to do?”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know what to do, but I can’t not do anything.” Holly sat up again. “Why did this have to happen while Ivy is here? I planned to woo her with a perfect two weeks--all her favorite things, all her favorite foods, and then try to convince her to sell her house and move here with me.”

  Kate didn’t comment.

  “What do you think I should do?” Holly prompted.

  “To borrow a phrase, Ivy’s moving here may be your fantasy, not hers.”

  “I’m talking about Juan, Kate. If you saw his face… I have to try to help, don’t I? My question to the cards was what should I do?”

  “Let’s think. I’ve heard you talk about Juan so much over the years that I feel like I know him myself. And I’ve known you over 25 years. I know you’d never be able to live with yourself if Juan went to prison and you hadn’t tried to help him.”

  “That’s right. You get it. I’m having a hard time getting Ivy to understand that.”

  “I’m sure she’s just worried about you. The big question is ‘What can you do’? Maybe you can’t do anything, but maybe you know someone who can.”

  “That’s good. That’s really good. Let me think. Who do I know who can help?” Holly looked up at the ceiling as if the answer might be printed there.

  “You were on that zoning commission in town for a while. You think anybody there could help?”

  “Wow! You are amazing. I don’t think the zoning commissioners can, but those people, they know people. Okay. This is great. You always have the answer.”

  “No, you always have the answer. Remember, like the Tarot cards, I only help you see what you already know.”

  “You always say that, but you know you’ve got a sixth sense about things.”

  “I’m not sure what I’ve got, but I was watching a re-run of Ghost the other night and it hit me that I’m a little like the medium in that movie, the Whoopi Goldberg character, Oda Mae. Sometimes an idea pops into my head, or a feeling that I have to do something, but it’s never completely clear why. It’s always just a piece of something that I can’t connect to anything with any certainty. So who’s the guy?”

  “I already told you there is no guy.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Listen, I don’t want Ivy to know about the Tarot thing. She still goes to church on Sunday. She’ll never move here if she thinks I’ve gone over to the dark side.”

  “Nice dodge, Holly, but don’t think you’re fooling me. And don’t worry about me telling Ivy anything. From up here in the Catskills, I’m unlikely to have an opportunity to talk to her.”

  “By the way, how’s your garden growing?” Holly asked.

  “Looks like a bumper crop of garlic again this year. Too early up here for anything other than lettuce and spinach. You’re probably ready to harvest.”

  “Yeah, we’ll have zucchini by the end of the week.”

  “Show off.”

  “Hey, thanks for the reading. I better try to get some sleep.”

  “Pleasant dreams. Keep me posted on any men you meet.”

  “Good night, Oda Mae!”

  6 WHERE’S HOLLY?

  “Dave! But you’re … you’re …”

  “Dead, Ivy?” Dave smiled, his head framed by glowing white light.

  “Yes. How can this be? What are you doing here?”

  “I just needed to let you know I’m okay and that you need to help Holly.”

  “Help Holly? Of course. I always help her with the gardening.”

  “She needs your help with more than just gardening, Ivy.”

  “No, Dave. Holly’s the one who always helps me. Remember? She never needs my help.”

  “Only you can help Holly.” Dave began to fade.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean, Ivy.”

  “No, I don’t. Wait. Come back, Dave.” But he was gone.

  Ivy opened her eyes, sat up and looked around. It took a few seconds to realize she was not in her own bed, but in the guest room at Holly’s house in New Jersey. She looked at the clock. 7:12 AM. That’s funny. Holly never sleeps this late, and she always checks to see if I want to walk with her and Lucky.

  Ivy got out of bed and picked up the bathrobe she’d laid across the rocker in the corner. Something wasn’t right. Been awhile since I haven’t slept in my own bed. That’s all. She shook her head as she tied the belt around her waist. Wait a minute. I was dreaming. What was I dreaming? She couldn’t remember.

  Ivy crossed the room and opened the bedroom door. Up popped Lucky, tail wagging. “Good morning, Lucky. Were you guarding my door?” She patted the dog, and together they headed to the steps, the aroma of coffee beckoning from the kitchen.

  Downstairs Ivy saw a full pot of coffee nesting in the coffee maker, but no Holly. She walked over to the stove and lifted the lid on the frying pan sitting on the front burner. Four breakfast sausages, nicely browned, sat in the pan. Ivy sniffed and smiled, putting the lid back in place. She turned and nearly tripped over Lucky, the dog’s nose pointing upward in the direction of the aromatic sausages.

  “No, no. Those aren’t for you. Those are for your mother and me, wherever she is. Do you know where she is, girl?”

  If Lucky knew, she wasn’t telling.

  Ivy looked out the window to the garden, but Holly wasn’t there either. She went back upstairs to the bedroom and put on the jeans and tee-shirt she’d worn the n
ight before. She scurried downstairs and out the front door and round to the side patio, but again, no Holly. Where could she be?

  “What am I thinking? She wouldn’t go outside and leave you inside, would she, Lucky?” Ivy turned around and went back inside. “I know,” she said snapping her fingers. She opened the basement door and went down the steps straight to the garage door. Pearl, Holly’s beige-colored Cadillac CTS sat parked safely inside. Well, at least she can’t have gone too far on foot. Ivy returned to the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. Lucky sat down beside her. Ivy petted Lucky’s head, rubbing behind her ears.

  “Lucky, your mother makes me crazy sometimes.” Ivy surveyed the countertops. “She didn’t even leave us a note. Where could she be?” Ivy leaned back in the chair. “I bet she walked to the bakery to get those bagels I love. She’ll be right back, won’t she, Lucky?” The dog wagged her tail in reply. “That’s it. She’ll be right back.”

  Ivy sighed as she continued to pet Lucky. This vacation was not starting out quite the way she’d imagined. She wondered if they would get to do any of the things they’d planned. She hadn’t seen Holly this upset about anything in a long time. Shaking her head, she smiled remembering how Holly had always been on some crusade or other when they were younger. From stopping the bombing in Cambodia to changing the grammar book at the school where she taught, to passing the Equal Rights Amendment, Holly was quite the activist. And she always had a plan, always seemed to know the right thing to do.

  Ivy looked at the clock again. 7:45 AM. Where could she be? Ivy began to pace, circling the dining room table. She stopped at the window and parted the curtains looking up and down the street.

  “I know, Lucky,” she said, sprinting back upstairs. “I’ll call her cell phone.” Ivy ran to the bedroom, grabbed her pocketbook and dug past the Kleenex and her wallet to locate her phone buried at the bottom. Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner? She searched for Holly’s name and hit “send.” She rolled her eyes as she heard the theme song from Rocky playing across the hallway. Entering Holly’s bedroom, she saw Holly’s I-Phone on the dresser. So much for that idea.

  Ivy turned and there was Lucky in the doorway watching her. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to steal anything.” She walked over and knelt beside the dog, putting both hands on either side of her furry neck.

  “I’m just being silly to worry. Right?”

  Ivy jumped to her feet. A woman was murdered in this neighborhood. If Juan didn’t do it, then the murderer is still out there. What if Holly went back to Mrs. Hagel’s house? What if the murderer returned to the scene of the crime?

  “Holly, Holly, Holly, where are you?” Ivy walked back downstairs and over to the front living room window. On a table in front of the window were several family pictures, including one of her and Dave on their tenth anniversary.

  “That’s it! That’s what I dreamt. I dreamt about Dave,” she said aloud. Just flashes of his face came back to her. What had he said? She couldn’t remember. Wait. Dave told me to help Holly. Why would I dream that? Suddenly she remembered what she saw in Mrs. Hagel’s kitchen. But I could be wrong. As she looked up, through the window she spotted Holly opening the front gate.

  7 A PLAN

  Ivy flew to the front door. “Where have you been?” she demanded, arms crossed tightly across her chest, eyes blazing.

  “Just down the street at the Flynn’s.” Holly bent to pick up the newspaper on the stoop, brushed past Ivy, and headed to the kitchen.

  Ivy slammed the door. “How could you go out without letting me know?” she shouted. Holly stopped in the kitchen doorway and looked at Ivy in surprise.

  ”I was worried sick,” Ivy said. “A woman was murdered in this neighborhood yesterday, and I wake up and find you’re gone, without your cellphone, without the dog, without a note!”

  Holly put her hand on Ivy’s arm. “I’m sorry, Ivy. I guess when you’ve lived alone as long as I have, you just don’t think about letting someone know where you are. I didn’t realize you might be worried. I really am sorry.”

  “Okay, but don’t leave this house again without telling me or without letting me know where you’re going.”

  “Okay. I promise.”

  “Another promise,” Ivy said under her breath, shaking her head. She followed as Holly turned and went straight to the kitchen counter, plugged in the waffle iron and dropped the newspaper on the table.

  “Waffles and sausages?” Ivy asked.

  “Waffles and sausages,” Holly replied, getting a mixing bowl of waffle batter out of the refrigerator.

  Ivy got two dishes out of the dish cupboard. “So why were you at the Flynn’s?”

  Holly’s expression changed from penitent to gleeful as she gave the waffle batter a stir. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it last night. Frank Flynn is a retired policeman. He’s an early riser and I caught him as he was going out to the gym this morning. He told me he’d find out if Juan had been transferred to Pineland County Jail, and let me know. He said if the charge is first degree murder there most likely would be no bail. He also said I could visit Juan, and probably the best thing I could do would be to talk to Juan’s court appointed lawyer. Isn’t that great?”

  Ivy let out a big sigh and sat down at the table. “So much for sleeping on it.”

  “I did sleep on it. Not very well, I have to admit.” Holly frowned at the light on the waffle iron, then turned to Ivy. “But this is good. I feel better now that I talked to Frank. I have to say I didn’t like the idea of talking to the Pineland Park police again, but I’m not afraid to talk to Juan’s lawyer. At least I can offer to be a character witness and maybe that will help.”

  “There go our gardening plans for today.” Ivy frowned, looking past Holly out the kitchen window.

  “No, no, we’re going to go to the Garden Center right after breakfast, and we can buy all the plants, just like we planned. I’ll call Frank when we get back to see what he finds out. Ah, the light finally went out.” Holly poured batter onto the waffle iron, closed the lid, and started cleaning up the counter.

  Ivy picked up the newspaper and scanned the first section of national news. When she got to the local news section, she grimaced at the headline. “Local Stationer Found Dead.”

  Holly walked over to the table with the milk pitcher. When Ivy didn’t look up, she glanced down at the headline. “Does it say anything about Juan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go ahead. Read it to me.”

  Ivy hesitated, then looked down at the paper and read, “Pineland Police have in custody Juan Alvarez, a local landscaper. Detective Nicholas Manelli would not comment on the evidence against Alvarez, stating that forensics tests are incomplete at this time.”

  Holly walked back over to the counter. “It’s okay. I’ll go see Juan and talk to his lawyer.”

  “And you’re sure that’s what you want to do? Have you really thought this out?” Ivy asked.

  “Yes. I mean, what could go wrong?” Then she burst out laughing. Even Ivy had to laugh as her sister handed her a steaming plate of waffles and sausages.

  8 THE GARDEN CENTER

  At the Garden Center Ivy found a cart and headed to the back of the building, Holly close behind. “Where should we start?”

  Ivy stopped to survey the seemingly endless rows of shelves lined with flats. Scarlet, white, pink, purple, orange yellow, coral and lavender blooms spilled out of their containers. Begonias, petunias, geraniums and fuchsias dangled gracefully from the roof edge of the Garden Center’s back porch.

  “Isn’t this just a feast for the eyes?” Ivy sighed.

  “It really is,” Holly agreed. They stood listening to the gentle sound of trickling water from the newly installed water pond on their left, inhaling the mixed scent of basil and rosemary wafting over from the herb section on their right.

  “Excuse me,” said a voice from behind. A man pushing a cart wanted to get past them.

&nb
sp; “Sorry,” Ivy laughed, moving her cart to make way for him. “We got carried away by the view.”

  Holly found some empty flats and positioned them on the cart’s top rack. Ivy aimed the cart at the impatiens aisle and they immediately began filling the flats.

  “I’m just so glad we’re finally doing this,” Holly said as she guided the cart from the front.

  “Me, too.” Ivy grinned. “Remember when you first moved in? It was a lot easier back then.”

  “Why? Because there were fewer flower beds or because we were younger?”

  “Ha! A little of both I think.”

  “All I know is I used to be able to do this all myself,” Holly said, shaking her head. “Fifty may be the new forty if you’re a movie star, but not if you’re a gardener.”

  “What do you think?” Ivy asked as she held up a gorgeous fuschia/purple/ lilac petunia combination.

  “Ooh, I love those colors. Absolutely get those.” Holly reviewed the cart contents. “I think after this we need to check out. We can’t fit any more on the cart.”

  After checking out at the outdoor register, the sisters headed to the car, passing three young men standing talking near a pickup truck loaded with top soil.

  “Yeah, that’s what can happen when you hire wetbacks,” said a tall, young man wearing a red baseball cap bearing a pine tree logo.

  A shorter fellow in an Allwood Landscaping tee-shirt smiled and said, “You got that right, Richie. What the hell was he thinking? How estupido could he be?” All three laughed loudly.

  Holly stopped, looking over at the braying trio. Ivy maneuvered the cart between Holly and the men. The third man leaning against the truck smiled and ran his hand along his unshaven cheek. “Yeah, well, it looks like they caught the dumb bean eater.”

  Ivy darted a look at the men, turned to Holly and asked, “Do you think we can plant all these flowers this afternoon?” Ignoring her, Holly crossed in front of the cart and turned towards the men.

  “Holly, wait! Don’t …”

  “Excuse me,” Holly said. The three men turned and looked at her. ”I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. I assume you’re talking about the murder in Pineland Park. Just in case you skipped school that day, let me tell you that in the United States you’re innocent until proven guilty.”