It wasn’t my problem; I’d solved my two mysteries and was happy to be back digging in the dirt. As people had predicted, I was inundated with job offers once the story broke.
“Where’ve you been? Busy giving interviews?” Babe asked.
“I’ve been working my little tail off,” I said, picking at the crisp, parsleyed potatoes next to my omelet. “Halcyon opens to the public next week, we just finished Dina Fifield’s hardscaping so the landscaping starts soon, and I am booked solid until the end of this season. And I’ve got a meeting set up with a small golf course in Westport that could be big.”
“Muy bien. Any word from the beautiful muchacho?”
Felix Ontivares had accompanied Celinda Rivera and her daughter’s remains back to Mexico. Mexican news online ran the story for three days, complete with pictures of Felix and Yoly’s surviving family members, including her mother and beautiful nineteen- year- old niece, a budding Tejano star.
“Ships passing in the night,” I told Babe. “He had his arm around the niece in that picture, and if he’s anything like his father, he likes them young. I’m a big girl. At least I’m not still mooning about the ex.”
“True. I always say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone.”
“Lucy said the same thing. Was that something you got in a fortune cookie?”
“Just a saying. Neil’s the quote guy. I don’t think it’s Shakespeare, but I’ll ask him.”
“While you’re at it, ask him about these, too.” On a clean napkin I scribbled down some of the lines I’d seen on the Peacocks’ needlepoints. “I’ve been meaning to look them up but keep getting sidetracked.”
The Springfield Historical Society had agreed to let Hugo and Anna have a small ceremony on Halcyon’s brick terrace the day after the opening, in appreciation of all the work Hugo had done there. Anna was thrilled; she’d been lobbying me since they set the date.
“I’ve got a few final touches for the garden. Then on Saturday night, I’m going to bring in an arbor and cover it with vines and flowers as a surprise.”
“Cool. You know Pete’s baking their cake.”
“Don’t tell him I said this, but his cooking’s getting better.”
“Be nice. He’s been practicing for weeks, even took a cake- decorating class in Wilton. Here, try a piece of today’s test cake. I’ve gained three pounds being his guinea pig.”
It was charmingly decorated with a cluster of wisteria made entirely of sugar. Impressive, but it was a little early for buttercream, so I asked her to pack up the huge slab she’d cut for me and promised to try it later.
I considered swinging by SHS to pick up the bonus check Richard finally agreed to, but there was time. Besides, next week I’d have a new assistant to handle collections, the future Mrs. Hugo Jurado.
CHAPTER 51
The stone planters on Halcyon’s brick terrace were overflowing with coleus, sweet potato vines, and dwarf fountain grass. Smaller, lightweight containers held masses of colorful zinnias and licorice plants spilling over the edges. I dropped my backpack and lunch in a shaded spot on the brick steps and got to work.
I wriggled one of the heavy stone dogs out of the way to make room for the rectangular buffet table SHS was delivering tomorrow. I rolled the other stone dog out of its regular spot to accommodate a small lectern where Richard would say a few words at the opening on Saturday, and a priest would marry the happy couple on Sunday. All the other planters were repositioned to flank the arbor under which Hugo and Anna would be married and to make room for the folding chairs for the wedding guests.
The work left me sweaty and a little winded, so I took a break on the steps for some water and a sugar rush from the buttercream icing on Pete’s test cake. It was a home run-quite possibly the best thing I’d ever tasted.
Only a few months before I’d sat on these same steps, my life a shambles. Now I had more work than I could handle and I’d solved two mysteries; and two good friends were getting married. Life was good. I treated myself to another swipe of icing, surveying my work.
In all the time I’d been at Halcyon, I hadn’t paid much attention to the maze, which was a ten-foot-high privet hedge of five interlocking circles. It needed only the annual crew cut, which Hugo had given it early in the season, and the occasional nip and tuck, which I decided to give it now. I placed a napkin on top of the cake to keep the ants away, and left it and the water on the steps for later.
My long- handled loppers were in the toolshed; I found them and walked past the white garden to the maze, where I trimmed a few wayward branches and yanked out errant strands of Virginia creeper and wirelike, mile- a-minute vine. The maze wouldn’t be open for the ceremony this weekend, so if all I got to do was a little cosmetic pruning on the outside, that would be enough.
I was almost finished when my phone beeped with the Ca rib be an music that let me know I had a text message. It was from Neil MacLeod: Needlepoint quotes in Peacock house are from Song of Solomon, pretty amazing under the circumstances. Neil
Under the circumstances? What did that mean? I put down the loppers, crossed the terrace, and entered the Peacock house through the unlocked door that had welcomed so many other women. In the mudroom, the two needlepoints I’d seen on my first visit were still there. I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valley, and Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the maidens, each bordered by rambling roses, now grimy with age. I went upstairs to the library to check on the others Neil and I had seen. On the paneled wall were two more. What shall we do for our sister? Okay, I get it. Come to my garden, my sister. That wasn’t much help. I scanned Dorothy’s library for a copy of the Bible, kicking up a puff of dust when I set the heavy, leather- bound book on the table. I flipped through the pages until I located the Song of Solomon. Come to my garden, my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
I dialed quickly. No answer. I waited for the beep to leave my message. “Gerald, it’s Paula. Look, I’m at Halcyon. There’s something strange here. The Peacocks had a series of needlepoints with lines from the Song of Solomon. One’s missing, and it’s about ‘a fountain sealed.’ What if the empty shelf isn’t missing books? What if it’s missing another framed needlepoint that was resting on the shelf? A needlepoint with a message someone didn’t want seen? I’ll call you back in ten minutes, but meet me here as soon as you can, okay?” I hung up.
I hurried outside to escape the suddenly claustrophobic atmosphere in the library. I went back to the maze to wait for Gerald. I checked my phone. Still no calls or messages. I picked up my loppers and kept working, more out of nervousness than anything else.
Deep inside the maze, farther than I had ever been, something dark green, like a lawn and leaf bag, caught my eye. “Jeez, I asked those guys not to leave garbage around,” I said out loud. As I got closer, I saw it wasn’t a trash bag. It was an oversized army surplus poncho draped over a twelve- speed bicycle with a bent rim.
“They won’t be able to blame Chiaramonte for this, but I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
I froze. Stepping out from behind a wall of privet was Richard Stapley. “You killed Yoly?” I said, stepping back. “Why?”
“I had to,” he said calmly. “Boring as she is, I could hardly give up an heiress for a penniless piece of fluff. When Yoly told me she was pregnant, I had no recourse. She interfered with my plans and had to be dealt with. Just like Guido.