The Promise: An Elvis Cole and Joe Pike Novel by Robert Crais Page B

of the card delivered with Amy Breslyn’s flowers.
    “You delivered flowers to us, but we don’t know who sent them.”
    “It says Charles.”
    “It says Charles, but there’s no last name. We know five Charleses. Could you please look up who sent them? We want to send a thank-you.”
    The man with the roses made a swooning noise.
    “He said please. OhmyGod, you must help this poor man, he said PLEASE!”
    Her face grew serious, as if researching the order required great concentration.
    “What was the name on the delivery?”
    “Amy Breslyn.”
    I spelled Breslyn.
    The man eyed me while the girl went to a computer. His hands didn’t stop moving the roses.
    “You don’t look like an Amy. Are you a Dorothy?”
    “My wife.”
    “Crushed!”
    The peacock woman bumped him with her hip.
    “Don’t you ever stop?”
    “Not until everyone’s HAPPY!”
    The counter girl typed Amy’s name into the computer and made a sad face.
    “I’m so sorry. They were really nice, but it was a cash sale. There’s no purchaser information.”
    Screwed. If Charles used a credit card I would have been golden, but Charles had paid cash. I stared at her, thinking about the cash, then checked the ceiling, looking for a security camera. The ceiling was bare.
    “Do you have a security camera?”
    The man hooted.
    “Everett’s too cheap. If we had sex in here he might spring for a camera, but otherwise, oh please!”
    “Maybe whoever helped him remembers what he looked like. I might recognize him if you describe him.”
    The girl looked exasperated.
    “We must get a hundred people in here every day.”
    The man glanced at her.
    “How much was the arrangement?”
    “Jared!”
    “You said it was nice. I’m trying to help the gentleman.”
    “Three-sixty plus tax. A dozen Pink Finesse gardens.”
    Jared smiled broadly.
    “Someone wanted to impress. When was the purchase?”
    The girl read from the card.
    “Nine days ago. One dozen Pink Finesse garden roses. Thirty a stem including the vase. Three-sixty plus tax total.”
    He thought for a moment.
    “I was here, but it wasn’t me. I would remember.”
    The peacock florist spoke as she worked.
    “Wasn’t me. I did the peach and the yellows.”
    I smiled at them. Their shop was filled with hundreds of roses in every possible color.
    “With all the arrangements you guys make, you’d remember these particular roses?”
    Jared said, “Of course! Garden roses have fragrance. Standard roses like these last so much longer, but have no fragrance. A rose without fragrance is like unrequited love, don’t you think?”
    “I had that very thought this morning.”
    “We order only a few at a time because they fail so quickly. This is why they’re so expensive. Can you imagine anything more tragic? The greater the beauty, the more fleeting the life.”
    Jared was something.
    “Maybe Everett took the order.”
    Jared hooted again.
    “Everett’s a lox. Let’s see, nine days ago was week before last. Stacey was probably here. Stacey and maybe Ilan.”
    I wrote my name and the new number on one of their cards.
    “Would you ask them? Maybe Stacey or Ilan got his last name. It would mean a lot.”
    The girl blinked at the card as if she didn’t know what to do with it and Jared finally turned from his arrangement. He studied me, thoughtful and curious.
    “My. I think we have a story here.”
    Now the peacock woman and the counter girl stared at me, too.
    I said, “What?”
    Jared smiled sadly.
    “So much trouble to send a simple thank-you?”
    I glanced away. I tried to look embarrassed and made my voice hoarse.
    “Amy says he’s just a friend, but I found the card and I don’t know what to believe. I just want someone to tell me the truth.”
    Jared considered me for a moment and picked up the card.
    “I’ll check with the others.”
    The counter girl adjusted her glasses. Nervous.
    “I don’t think Everett would like this, Jared.”
    “Everett knows nothing.”
    He