sympathetically. ‘Sounds like he was a little hard on you, Jack, and I know just where you’re coming from. I could never please my father, either.’
Magozzi maintained a poker face. Gino’s father thought his only son walked on water.
‘No matter what I did,’ Gino continued, ‘no matter how hard I tried, it was just never enough for that man. Used to really piss me off.’
Jack raised his eyes in drunken disbelief. ‘Jesus, Detective, I’m an attorney. Give me a little credit. Did you actually expect me to fall for that load of sympathetic bonding crap?’
Gino shrugged. ‘Had to give it a shot.’
‘Well for what it’s worth, I didn’t kill my father, okay?’ He collapsed back onto the lawn chair and closed his eyes. ‘Shit. You guys might want to step back a little. I think I might actually hurl.’
‘So who was she, this Rose Kleber?’ Lily was standing at the front window of the greenhouse with her arms folded, staring out at Jack, cluttering the parking lot with his lawn-chair and cooler, lying there like a stunned carp.
‘She lived over on Ferndale, Mrs Gilbert,’ Magozzi answered, ‘and a couple of things caught our attention. She was in the camps for one thing, just like Mr Gilbert.’ He saw Lily’s eyes close briefly. ‘And she had his name and number in her phone book.’
Marty was at the counter, rubbing at an old stain with his thumb. ‘Sounds pretty thin, guys.’
‘It is. Just something we’re checking out.’
Marty nodded absently, and Magozzi had the feeling he was barely interested, barely present.
Lily took a breath and turned away from the window. ‘People buy plants, Morey gives them a card, tells them to call if they have trouble with them. Do you have a picture? Maybe she was a customer.’
‘Not yet. We’ll get one to you as soon as we can. In the meantime, you don’t recall hearing the name?’
She shook her head. ‘Morey was the one who was good with names. Never forgot a name. Never forgot a face. Such a big deal people made over that, like he was giving them a present.’
Magozzi tucked away his notebook. ‘Do you have a customer list? A Rolodex, maybe?’
‘In the office in the back of the potting shed. But mostly it’s numbers I wrote down. Morey never needed to. He heard a number, he remembered it forever.’
‘Maybe we could take a look anyway, if it isn’t too much trouble.’
Back by the potting shed, they ran into the two employees Magozzi had talked to yesterday when they showed up at the impromptu memorial outside the nursery. They were tossing fifty-pound bags of fertilizer onto a wheeled pallet with a careless ease that made Magozzi long for his youth, but they straightened respectfully when Lily approached. They gave her shy, almost identical smiles, then turned to Magozzi and Gino.
‘Good morning, Detectives,’ they piped in unison, wiping their hands on their jeans, then holding them out.
Gino looked positively flummoxed by the apparition of two well-mannered young men greeting their elders with almost old-world politeness. ‘Hey, yo,’ was about the nicest thing anybody under twenty had ever said to him.
‘Jeff Montgomery, right?’ Magozzi shook the hand of the tall blond kid first, then the shorter, darker one. ‘And Tim. . . ?’
‘Matson, sir.’
‘Either of you remember a woman named Rose Kleber shopping here at the nursery?’ Gino asked.
The boys thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. ‘We help out a lot of customers, but we don’t always get their names, you know?’ Jeff Montgomery said. ‘What does she look like?’
Magozzi cringed inwardly, remembering the mottled face, the blood- stained dress. ‘Elderly, a little heavy, gray hair . . .’ he looked at their blank faces and realized this was hopeless. Teenaged boys remembered teenaged girls, and that was about it.
‘Actually, that sounds like a lot of the people who come here, sir,’ Tim Matson said. ‘Maybe she’s on the mailing
Magozzi maintained a poker face. Gino’s father thought his only son walked on water.
‘No matter what I did,’ Gino continued, ‘no matter how hard I tried, it was just never enough for that man. Used to really piss me off.’
Jack raised his eyes in drunken disbelief. ‘Jesus, Detective, I’m an attorney. Give me a little credit. Did you actually expect me to fall for that load of sympathetic bonding crap?’
Gino shrugged. ‘Had to give it a shot.’
‘Well for what it’s worth, I didn’t kill my father, okay?’ He collapsed back onto the lawn chair and closed his eyes. ‘Shit. You guys might want to step back a little. I think I might actually hurl.’
‘So who was she, this Rose Kleber?’ Lily was standing at the front window of the greenhouse with her arms folded, staring out at Jack, cluttering the parking lot with his lawn-chair and cooler, lying there like a stunned carp.
‘She lived over on Ferndale, Mrs Gilbert,’ Magozzi answered, ‘and a couple of things caught our attention. She was in the camps for one thing, just like Mr Gilbert.’ He saw Lily’s eyes close briefly. ‘And she had his name and number in her phone book.’
Marty was at the counter, rubbing at an old stain with his thumb. ‘Sounds pretty thin, guys.’
‘It is. Just something we’re checking out.’
Marty nodded absently, and Magozzi had the feeling he was barely interested, barely present.
Lily took a breath and turned away from the window. ‘People buy plants, Morey gives them a card, tells them to call if they have trouble with them. Do you have a picture? Maybe she was a customer.’
‘Not yet. We’ll get one to you as soon as we can. In the meantime, you don’t recall hearing the name?’
She shook her head. ‘Morey was the one who was good with names. Never forgot a name. Never forgot a face. Such a big deal people made over that, like he was giving them a present.’
Magozzi tucked away his notebook. ‘Do you have a customer list? A Rolodex, maybe?’
‘In the office in the back of the potting shed. But mostly it’s numbers I wrote down. Morey never needed to. He heard a number, he remembered it forever.’
‘Maybe we could take a look anyway, if it isn’t too much trouble.’
Back by the potting shed, they ran into the two employees Magozzi had talked to yesterday when they showed up at the impromptu memorial outside the nursery. They were tossing fifty-pound bags of fertilizer onto a wheeled pallet with a careless ease that made Magozzi long for his youth, but they straightened respectfully when Lily approached. They gave her shy, almost identical smiles, then turned to Magozzi and Gino.
‘Good morning, Detectives,’ they piped in unison, wiping their hands on their jeans, then holding them out.
Gino looked positively flummoxed by the apparition of two well-mannered young men greeting their elders with almost old-world politeness. ‘Hey, yo,’ was about the nicest thing anybody under twenty had ever said to him.
‘Jeff Montgomery, right?’ Magozzi shook the hand of the tall blond kid first, then the shorter, darker one. ‘And Tim. . . ?’
‘Matson, sir.’
‘Either of you remember a woman named Rose Kleber shopping here at the nursery?’ Gino asked.
The boys thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. ‘We help out a lot of customers, but we don’t always get their names, you know?’ Jeff Montgomery said. ‘What does she look like?’
Magozzi cringed inwardly, remembering the mottled face, the blood- stained dress. ‘Elderly, a little heavy, gray hair . . .’ he looked at their blank faces and realized this was hopeless. Teenaged boys remembered teenaged girls, and that was about it.
‘Actually, that sounds like a lot of the people who come here, sir,’ Tim Matson said. ‘Maybe she’s on the mailing
Similar Books
