body.”
“Thanks,” I said. “That’s all true.”
“I know. But why were they asking me questions like that?”
“Apparently they—or at least Detective Lang—think I’m a prime suspect in Josie’s murder. Since she technically died on my property, and it looked as if she was trying to get in my front gate when she collapsed. Then Harris went and told them I was upset about Josie dating him.”
There was a long silence, then, “That’s not good. Not good at all.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. “But it turns out Josie was actually attacked in the park, not on my property. I’m hoping that means I’m off the hook.”
“Good.” My brother’s voice held heartfelt relief. “That you’re off the hook, I mean. Well, I’m going to let you get some shut-eye. I’ll check in with you in a day or so.”
He wished me a good night’s sleep, and we said good-bye.
The conversation with my brother calmed me, but it still took three cups of valerian root tea before I managed to drift off. My thoughts ping-ponged among Josie’s murder, Ritter Nelson, and the scent that had recently begun to haunt the Enchanted Garden. Could it be a night-scented flower in a neighbor’s garden that Gamma hadn’t taught me about? Could it have somehow drawn the fireflies to it as it had appealed to me?
“I need to check her journal,” I murmured to Dash, before turning over and sinking into unconsciousness.
• • •
I WOKE at dawn, slowly surfacing from the depths of slumber. The soft duvet enveloped me in a cocoon of comfort. Tendrils of a dream clung to my growing consciousness. My grandmother, kneeling in her garden, patting the dirt around a transplanted seedling, and talking softly to someone behind her that I couldn’t see, and then to me.
You mustn’t forget, Elliana. You have a gift. You need to . . .
I stretched and opened my eyes to the new light nudging in through the skylight, feeling the last vestiges of the dream evaporate. Early birds chirped loudly outside—the nasal call of chickadees, the liquid notes of a meadowlark, the piercing screech of a blue jay trying to imitate the red-tailed hawks that nested near the river. Dash sprawled on the bed beside me, upside down and oblivious.
A deep breath then, and with it came the flood of memory.
Josie had been murdered.
Adrenaline shot through my veins, a flight or fight response triggered by . . . what?
After all, Detective Garcia had said they were releasing the area in front of my shop, so I could open Scents & Nonsense and go back to doing what I loved best. Other than Harris being a dolt and trying to pin his girlfriend’s death on me, they had no evidence against me—because there wasn’t any.
All I had to do was ride this whole thing out. Time had healed things before. It would now, too. Right?
As long as whoever had killed Josie was caught and convicted. Really, that was what it came down to more than anything.
Justice for Josie, and freedom for me.
“Come on, Dash. Let’s get to work.”
He rolled over, instantly awake. Downstairs, he tucked into his kibble while I gnawed unenthusiastically on an apple and swigged my first cup of coffee. Twenty minutes later, I’d showered and dressed in a flowing knee-length skirt the color of flax flowers and a sleeveless ivory blouse, and Dash and I made the short trip to the day job.
At the spigot, I filled the water can and carried it to the fused-glass birdbath. After topping it off, I looked down. A swath of violet light painted the ground below: sun shining through the colored glass of the bowl. The lush carpet of verdant moss at the base of the pedestal sparkled with moisture, a result of Thea’s carefully thought out drip irrigation.
Then I saw the tiny sprout that had been pushing through the soil the previous day was now seven inches tall, and its winding, corkscrew stem supported blue-green leaves that looked as if they’d been dipped in wax. Seven fat buds
“Thanks,” I said. “That’s all true.”
“I know. But why were they asking me questions like that?”
“Apparently they—or at least Detective Lang—think I’m a prime suspect in Josie’s murder. Since she technically died on my property, and it looked as if she was trying to get in my front gate when she collapsed. Then Harris went and told them I was upset about Josie dating him.”
There was a long silence, then, “That’s not good. Not good at all.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. “But it turns out Josie was actually attacked in the park, not on my property. I’m hoping that means I’m off the hook.”
“Good.” My brother’s voice held heartfelt relief. “That you’re off the hook, I mean. Well, I’m going to let you get some shut-eye. I’ll check in with you in a day or so.”
He wished me a good night’s sleep, and we said good-bye.
The conversation with my brother calmed me, but it still took three cups of valerian root tea before I managed to drift off. My thoughts ping-ponged among Josie’s murder, Ritter Nelson, and the scent that had recently begun to haunt the Enchanted Garden. Could it be a night-scented flower in a neighbor’s garden that Gamma hadn’t taught me about? Could it have somehow drawn the fireflies to it as it had appealed to me?
“I need to check her journal,” I murmured to Dash, before turning over and sinking into unconsciousness.
• • •
I WOKE at dawn, slowly surfacing from the depths of slumber. The soft duvet enveloped me in a cocoon of comfort. Tendrils of a dream clung to my growing consciousness. My grandmother, kneeling in her garden, patting the dirt around a transplanted seedling, and talking softly to someone behind her that I couldn’t see, and then to me.
You mustn’t forget, Elliana. You have a gift. You need to . . .
I stretched and opened my eyes to the new light nudging in through the skylight, feeling the last vestiges of the dream evaporate. Early birds chirped loudly outside—the nasal call of chickadees, the liquid notes of a meadowlark, the piercing screech of a blue jay trying to imitate the red-tailed hawks that nested near the river. Dash sprawled on the bed beside me, upside down and oblivious.
A deep breath then, and with it came the flood of memory.
Josie had been murdered.
Adrenaline shot through my veins, a flight or fight response triggered by . . . what?
After all, Detective Garcia had said they were releasing the area in front of my shop, so I could open Scents & Nonsense and go back to doing what I loved best. Other than Harris being a dolt and trying to pin his girlfriend’s death on me, they had no evidence against me—because there wasn’t any.
All I had to do was ride this whole thing out. Time had healed things before. It would now, too. Right?
As long as whoever had killed Josie was caught and convicted. Really, that was what it came down to more than anything.
Justice for Josie, and freedom for me.
“Come on, Dash. Let’s get to work.”
He rolled over, instantly awake. Downstairs, he tucked into his kibble while I gnawed unenthusiastically on an apple and swigged my first cup of coffee. Twenty minutes later, I’d showered and dressed in a flowing knee-length skirt the color of flax flowers and a sleeveless ivory blouse, and Dash and I made the short trip to the day job.
At the spigot, I filled the water can and carried it to the fused-glass birdbath. After topping it off, I looked down. A swath of violet light painted the ground below: sun shining through the colored glass of the bowl. The lush carpet of verdant moss at the base of the pedestal sparkled with moisture, a result of Thea’s carefully thought out drip irrigation.
Then I saw the tiny sprout that had been pushing through the soil the previous day was now seven inches tall, and its winding, corkscrew stem supported blue-green leaves that looked as if they’d been dipped in wax. Seven fat buds
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