Rest in Pieces by Katie Graykowski

else at the house?” Monica propped her chin on her hand.
    “No. Besides the sophisticated chemistry set, and tons more boxes that I didn’t have time to look into, there were just the bags of lima beans.” I hunched my shoulders. “I’ve never seen anyone who appreciated lima beans more than Molly.”
    Personally, I thought there were way too many lima beans in the world, so creating a new variety seemed like the dumbest thing in the world. I also thought there were too many beets and green peas in the world, but no doubt someone somewhere was trying to create a new variety of those, too. Some people had way too much free time.
    “Did you get a sample of the lima beans?” Monica’s gaze rolled up to meet mine.
    They were lima beans. Why would I want to touch them unnecessarily? “Ahhh, no. I didn’t think of that.”
    She shrugged. “Probably doesn’t matter anyway.”
    “From the picture, I can tell that she died in the kitchen. I got down on my hands and knees and looked but didn’t find anything.” I shook my head. “It was clean…like super clean. Not a speck of dust even in the corners or on the baseboards.”
    Haley’s brows bounced off of her hairline. “You’d know. You’re the queen of clean.”
    “Thanks…I think.” Remembering the photo I’d taken, I pulled out my phone. “And there’s this.” I pulled up the picture. “I’d forgotten about it. There was this tree she had in a pop–up greenhouse thing. It was clear plastic like a tent, but, well…clear plastic.”
    I handed my phone to Haley.
    She used her fingers to zoom in. “So this was the only thing in the back yard?”
    She handed the phone to Monica. “Nothing else?”
    “Nope, just that tree and that plastic greenhouse. There was a heater in there and everything.”
    “That is strange.” Haley glanced at the picture again. “That actually is a greenhouse. It’s called the Flower House Conservatory. My next door neighbor, Mr. Earl, got one to protect his prized ornamental cabbage collection, but the neighbor on the other side of him, Mrs. Magee, called the city and complained that it was tacky, so they made him take it down. That was the beginning of what our street calls, Tacky–Gate. Mr. Earl and Mrs. Magee have been at each other’s throats since.”
    “Freaking Lakeside, they probably have an ordinance against tacky.” Monica sat back. “I still can’t believe they have an ordinance against cutting your own trees.”
    “Well, yeah, that’s for oak wilt, and there’s good reason for that particular rule, but otherwise, yes, it’s stupid. Retirees have lots of time on their hands.” Haley continued to stare at the picture. “I wonder what kind of tree that is? I can’t really tell from this picture.”
    I’d intended to take a picture of the tree, but I’d gotten more greenhouse than anything. Freaking camera app, me and that little focus box didn’t get along.
    “I might go back out there and take a cutting.” Haley’s gaze met mine. “I could take it to the Natural Gardener and they can tell me what it is, or I could just ask Humberto.”
    Humberto was Haley’s gardener. She was constantly asking him to change this or that, and he always nodded and smiled and then did the same thing he always did. His English wasn’t so good, but his wife made the best chicken tamales in the world. So Haley had learned to live without change, because you could only get the tamales by staying on Humberto’s good side. I of course, had been erased off the tamale list years ago. David had asked for the recipe, which had immediately made him and everyone one he knew persona non–tamale. Occasionally Haley snuck me a few, but only when Humberto wasn’t around. Texas tamale politics is very complicated.
    “Anything else?” Monica watched me waiting for another revelation.
    “Nope. That’s everything. Molly was a hoarder and obsessed with lima beans. Other than that, her house was immaculate.”
    We stared at