“She works for her parents at Tucker’s Garden Center in Hinckley. I think she’s there most all the time.”
CHAPTER 18
Dust devils swirled on the shoulder of the road as Pam Ryan pulled onto the interstate frontage road leading to Hinckley. The weeks of hot dry weather had turned the grass a dusty yellow. A small dust storm followed Pam’s cruiser across the gravel parking lot, the wind quickly carrying it toward the interstate. Sprinklers sent sprays of water across the rows of potted flowers, shrubs, and trees arrayed around the front of the nursery, adding to the miserable humidity of the morning.
The inside of the building was still full of annual flowers in full bloom, filling the air with a million scents. Through shelves of potted marigolds Pam spotted a middle-aged woman keyboarding on a computer.
“You should charge people just to come in and enjoy the fragrances of the flowers,” Pam said with a smile.
The woman was startled by Pam’s voice. She turned so quickly that she almost fell from the swivel chair. “Lord, you scared me. I was so wrapped up in the bookkeeping that I didn’t hear the bell when you came in.”
“Is Kathy Tucker here?” Pam asked.
“No,” the woman replied. “It’s her day off.” The woman stood and said, “I’m Ginny, Kathy’s mother. Can I help you?”
“I’d like to talk to you if you’ve got a moment.”
“I’ve got lots of moments if you will let me get out of this computer program.” Ginny sat down, saved her work, and shut down the computer. While waiting for the screens to close she added, “I was just going to pour myself a cup of coffee. Would you care for one too?”
“I’d love a cup. I’m Pam Ryan,” she said, offering her hand.
The woman led Pam to a small office in the corner of the building. There was a coffee pot in the corner and mugs hung from pegs on the wall. Ginny filled two mugs from a carafe. “It’s pretty strange that two deputies show up the same week wanting to talk with Kathy.”
“It’s not strange at all.” Pam accepted the cup and sat on a metal folding chair. “I take it that Floyd didn’t explain the pictures to you? We got some pictures from an old camera that belonged to Ken Solstad. The film in the camera hadn’t been developed for years. It was developed this week and the photos show five people, including Aaron Roberts and Kathy, sitting in a bar the night before Ken died in a car accident. Coincidentally, that was also the last night anyone saw Aaron.”
“The police talked to us back then,” Ginny said. “Kathy had a drinking problem and she didn’t remember what happened that night. I guess she wasn’t much help.”
“What do you remember about that night, Mrs. Tucker?”
“Please call me Ginny. As for the time Aaron disappeared, I can’t say I remember much.”
“How close were Kathy, Ken, and Aaron?”
“Ken was a stinker and I don’t think Kathy had much to do with him except as a drinking buddy. Kathy and Aaron were dating so they were very close.”
“Kathy must’ve been devastated when Aaron disappeared.”
Ginny fidgeted, swirling the coffee in her cup. “Something happened between Kathy and Aaron that night. She never said exactly what, but I think they broke up. She’s never talked about it but she took it hard. I think she’d been drinking some before that but she really went off the deep end afterwards. I was afraid she’d be killed in a car accident but she was an adult and I guess it was too awkward for me to confront her. After she got her second DWI up in Carlton County her dad talked her into working with us and she dove into the work. I think she’s compulsive and she sublimated the work here for her drinking.”
“That’s not a bad swap,” Pam noted.
“It’s bad if you want to be a grandmother and you hear your unmarried daughter’s biological clock ticking away,” Ginny said with a slight grin.
“Do you know what precipitated the breakup with Aaron?”
“Hah! Is that the kind of topic you could discuss with your mother?” Ginny asked. “We’ve been content to let that topic sit on the shelf.”
“Where does Kathy live?” Pam asked, sensing that there was little else to be gleaned from Ginny Tucker.
“She’s got a little house in town. Turn toward the water tower and go two blocks past. You’ll know it as soon as you see it.”
“How will I know it?” Pam asked.
“If you can’t tell which one it is, you come back here and I’ll buy you lunch.”
Kathy Tucker’s house was tiny by any standard, by far the smallest on the block. What made it distinctive were the thousands of flowers that filled the yard. There were so many flowering plants in the yard that there was literally no grass at all. Kathy was on her knees pulling weeds and throwing them into a pile on the sidewalk. A middle-aged man with a scraggly beard sat on the steps drinking a Coke, watching, and apparently carrying on a conversation as the weeds flew.
Kathy looked up when Pam stopped the cruiser in front of the house. By the time Pam called her location and got out of the car, Kathy was standing and removing her gardening gloves. The man never got up from the steps.
“Kathy, I’m Pam Ryan, from the Pine County Sheriff’s Department.” Pam offered her hand, and was surprised that Kathy was nearly a foot taller than she was, with an athletic build and hands calloused from hard work. Kathy was dressed in a tank top, dark shorts, and dirty white tennis shoes. The outfit showed off the deeply tanned skin from years of working in the nursery. The first sign of wrinkles showed at the corners of her eyes and mouth.
“What’s up?” Kathy asked.
“I was wondering if you had time to talk?”
“It’s my day off. I didn’t have much planned except pulling weeds.” Kathy pointed toward the house. “Why don’t we sit out back. Would you like some iced tea or a Coke?”
“I’m Walt,” the man said, stubbing out a cigarette butt then tipping his red cap with its Toro logo, “and I’ve got to get back to the church.” He offered his calloused hand to Pam. “I’m the janitor at the Methodist Church and I like to walk down here to enjoy the flowers.” He was dressed in a threadbare short-sleeved shirt and jeans. His graying hair was tied back in a loose ponytail.
“Hey!” Kathy said in mock protest, “I thought you came down for the conversation.” Pam could see the comfortable chemistry between the two friends.
“Nah,” Walt said jokingly, “I can’t afford Coke on my salary.” His forty-something face had a million creases from years of smoking and working in the sun.
It struck Pam that the repartee between the two was like two old friends. “If this is a bad time, I can come back later.”
Walt waved her off. “Nah, my break is over. I’ve got to get everything cleaned up before the funeral this afternoon.” He waved and walked off toward the brick church at the end of the block.
The two women walked the narrow sidewalk around the house. In the backyard Kathy waved Pam to the small patio where a pair of Adirondack chairs shone with a clear finish that made them look wet. The yard was alive with perennial flowers arranged around the small concrete patio. Kathy went into the house and Pam admired the flowers closest to her chair. Tiny tea roses in red and pink dominated the edge of the patio.
“Do you like roses?” Kathy asked, handing a glass of iced tea to Pam.
“What woman doesn’t like roses?”
“They’re over-hyped,” Kathy replied. “The only reason roses are a popular men’s gift is that they’re the only flower most men can recognize. There are so many other plants with a nicer bouquet that hold up better.” The conversation lagged, and she added, “But roses aren’t the reason you’re here. I suppose you want to talk about Ken and Aaron.”