roosted on top, their dark sepals still furled around the promised blooms.
Definitely not bindweed.
Slowly, I reached down and touched one with my fingertip.
What the heck is that?
I’d never seen anything like it, had never heard of such a plant in any of myhorticulture classes. Anything that grew that fast had to be invasive. Still, my curiosity wouldn’t let me pull it out until I knew what it was—and what those flowers looked—and smelled—like.
I returned the watering can and quickly rinsed my hands. Throwing a glance at the unusual plant, I called Dash and strode across the patio to the door. I deliberately turned away from the police tape still looped around the garden gate.
Soon it will be over. Or at least that stupid yellow plastic will be gone.
Astrid was letting herself in the front door as we came in the back. Today she wore flowy Thai fisherman pants in brown cotton and a black T-shirt. Her burnished copper hair was in a loose braid over one shoulder, and she carried a covered plate that broadcast ginger and molasses to my nose.
“Hey!” she greeted me.
I smiled. “Hey. What’s on the menu?”
“Ginger softies. I didn’t know if you’d even want cookies today, but I’m so much in the habit of starting my day whipping them up that I went ahead.”
“Thanks. I’m planning to open up later today, and I’m sure that plate will be empty in no time.” As she walked by I snagged one and took a bite. “Yum! These are delicious! Way better than the apple I had for breakfast.”
She grinned. “I combined two recipes to make them, and I have to say I’m pretty pleased.” She walked over to where Nabby hunkered on the counter next to Leonard’s bowl and set the cookies down. “Well, lookie here. I don’tthink I’ve ever seen Nabokov up here. He’s usually more of a window cat.”
“Me neither,” I said. “But now there’s extra entertainment on offer.”
She leaned down to the cat, who raised his chin for a scritch. “At least you didn’t eat him. Good boy, Nabby.”
He blinked at her, looking bored, and sat up to his full height. Astrid reached for the tank, rotating it on the counter for a better view of the betta fish.
Nabby growled.
Her mouth fell open, and I felt my own jaw slacken.
“Nabokov!” I said.
“He’s guarding the fish,” Astrid said in wonder. “Well, I never.”
I laughed. “I think you’re right. Nabby, do you like your new pet?”
He squinted at me, and a purr rumbled from his chest.
Mrow.
“How about if I put him down here on the end.” I lifted the bowl, watching Nabby. He followed me to the end of the counter, away from the register, and settled in next to the newly relocated fish tank.
“Weirdo,” I muttered to the cat and moved across to the coffeemaker.
Movement outside caught my eye, and I went to the front window. Detective Garcia, wearing another white shirt, only with a brown blazer this time, was unfastening one end of the tape from the back fence. Hope bloomed in my chest. Surely this was a step in the right direction.
Then Detective Lang moved into the frame.
Garcia’s phone message hadn’t said anything about her partner coming over this morning. The hope withered a little as he pointed to the ground where I’d found Josie, then toward the park. Garcia said something, and he shook his head. He jerked his chin toward the shop. She replied and pointed straight at me, standing there in the window. I hadn’t realized that she’d seen me.
Lang’s head rose, and his eyes met mine. He marched over and pushed open the unlocked door and stood in the entrance. “Ms. Allbright. You’re up early.” Sarcasm laced his tone.
“I usually am.”
“Then how is it you didn’t report Josie Overland’s body until nearly nine o’clock yesterday morning?”
“It was closer to eight thirty, actually. I told you I overslept.”
His lips thinned into a skeptical line. “Are you sure you weren’t trying to come up with a good
Definitely not bindweed.
Slowly, I reached down and touched one with my fingertip.
What the heck is that?
I’d never seen anything like it, had never heard of such a plant in any of myhorticulture classes. Anything that grew that fast had to be invasive. Still, my curiosity wouldn’t let me pull it out until I knew what it was—and what those flowers looked—and smelled—like.
I returned the watering can and quickly rinsed my hands. Throwing a glance at the unusual plant, I called Dash and strode across the patio to the door. I deliberately turned away from the police tape still looped around the garden gate.
Soon it will be over. Or at least that stupid yellow plastic will be gone.
Astrid was letting herself in the front door as we came in the back. Today she wore flowy Thai fisherman pants in brown cotton and a black T-shirt. Her burnished copper hair was in a loose braid over one shoulder, and she carried a covered plate that broadcast ginger and molasses to my nose.
“Hey!” she greeted me.
I smiled. “Hey. What’s on the menu?”
“Ginger softies. I didn’t know if you’d even want cookies today, but I’m so much in the habit of starting my day whipping them up that I went ahead.”
“Thanks. I’m planning to open up later today, and I’m sure that plate will be empty in no time.” As she walked by I snagged one and took a bite. “Yum! These are delicious! Way better than the apple I had for breakfast.”
She grinned. “I combined two recipes to make them, and I have to say I’m pretty pleased.” She walked over to where Nabby hunkered on the counter next to Leonard’s bowl and set the cookies down. “Well, lookie here. I don’tthink I’ve ever seen Nabokov up here. He’s usually more of a window cat.”
“Me neither,” I said. “But now there’s extra entertainment on offer.”
She leaned down to the cat, who raised his chin for a scritch. “At least you didn’t eat him. Good boy, Nabby.”
He blinked at her, looking bored, and sat up to his full height. Astrid reached for the tank, rotating it on the counter for a better view of the betta fish.
Nabby growled.
Her mouth fell open, and I felt my own jaw slacken.
“Nabokov!” I said.
“He’s guarding the fish,” Astrid said in wonder. “Well, I never.”
I laughed. “I think you’re right. Nabby, do you like your new pet?”
He squinted at me, and a purr rumbled from his chest.
Mrow.
“How about if I put him down here on the end.” I lifted the bowl, watching Nabby. He followed me to the end of the counter, away from the register, and settled in next to the newly relocated fish tank.
“Weirdo,” I muttered to the cat and moved across to the coffeemaker.
Movement outside caught my eye, and I went to the front window. Detective Garcia, wearing another white shirt, only with a brown blazer this time, was unfastening one end of the tape from the back fence. Hope bloomed in my chest. Surely this was a step in the right direction.
Then Detective Lang moved into the frame.
Garcia’s phone message hadn’t said anything about her partner coming over this morning. The hope withered a little as he pointed to the ground where I’d found Josie, then toward the park. Garcia said something, and he shook his head. He jerked his chin toward the shop. She replied and pointed straight at me, standing there in the window. I hadn’t realized that she’d seen me.
Lang’s head rose, and his eyes met mine. He marched over and pushed open the unlocked door and stood in the entrance. “Ms. Allbright. You’re up early.” Sarcasm laced his tone.
“I usually am.”
“Then how is it you didn’t report Josie Overland’s body until nearly nine o’clock yesterday morning?”
“It was closer to eight thirty, actually. I told you I overslept.”
His lips thinned into a skeptical line. “Are you sure you weren’t trying to come up with a good
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