A Rose From the Dead by Kate Collins

did, then how could those two idiots have been cleared? I mean, it’s so obvious what they did. Weren’t there any fingerprints left at either scene?”
    Silence.
    “Are you saying everything was wiped clean?”
    “I’m not saying anything, Abby. That’s as far as I go. I’m hanging up now.”
    “Just give me one more minute, Reilly. Please? Are they talking to anyone other than Delilah?”
    “Abby.”
    “Just tap out the first name. Once for A, twice for B —”
    “If you want more information, talk to Darnell.” Click.
    I hung up with a groan of frustration just as Nikki appeared, wanting to know who had called. I gave her a quick rundown on my conversations with Max and Reilly, then put my head in my hands. “This can’t be happening.”
    “Call Marco,” she said, rinsing her cup in the sink. “He’ll know what to do.”
    My finger was already pressing the speed-dial button. It didn’t occur to me until I heard his sleepy voice that he might have been up late because of the gas leak.
    “Got to bed at three in the morning,” he said with a yawn.
    “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have bothered you this early, but Delilah is in serious trouble. Darnell is calling her a person of interest, and you know what that means—she’s a suspect. And it’s all my fault for opening my mouth to Reilly in the first place. I have to get her out of this mess, Marco, before it goes any further.”
    “Whoa, Sunshine. Slow down. You’re talking way too fast for my tired brain.” In the background I heard sheets rustle, as if he were climbing out of bed. “Tell me what happened.”
    “Darnell questioned Delilah all night, and needless to say, Max is a basket case. He retained Dave Hammond and I’m sure Dave will do a good job for them, but you know that if Darnell decides to indict Delilah, even if she’s proven not guilty, her life will be ruined, not to mention their funeral-home business. The best defense attorney in the world wouldn’t be able to prevent that from happening. I’ve got to make sure it doesn’t get that far.”
    “Okay, steady now. You realize what you’re saying, don’t you?”
    “Yes. That I have to prove Delilah’s innocence.”
    “No, that you have to find a killer.”
    “I like my way better.”
    “Do you have a plan?”
    “Not yet. I talked to Max only a few minutes ago. All I know is that the convention starts at ten o’clock and ends at five, which gives me seven hours.”
    “That gives us seven hours. There’s no way you’re doing this alone.”
    I could have smothered him with kisses. “Thanks, Marco. Your help means a lot. I know Max and Delilah will be grateful, too.”
    “What time do you want to go?”
    It was eight fifteen. I still had to shower, dress, and dash down to my flower shop to catch up on orders before heading up north to the convention center.
    “Pick me up at Bloomers at nine thirty,” I told him.
    As I hung up, Nikki paused at the door to wish me good luck. “And by the way,” she said, “I knew you wouldn’t stay out of it.”

    Bloomers is the second shop from the corner on Franklin Street, one of the four streets that border the courthouse square. The store occupies the first floor and basement of the old three-story building and has two bay windows with a yellow-framed door in between. The left side of the shop is the sales area, incorporating one of the bay windows, a glass-fronted refrigerated display case, an armoire, a bookcase and several antique tables that hold a variety of floral arrangements, and a small counter with our cash register. A purple velvet curtain separates the shop from the workroom in back.
    On the right side of the shop is our Victorian-themed coffee and tea parlor, where customers sit at white wrought-iron tables in front of the other bay window, drinking out of china cups and saucers, eating Grace’s scones or biscuits, and watching the happenings on the square. It’s a cozy, comfortable place to hang out, and it