Marigolds, Mischief, and Murder by Erica Wynters

Author:Erica Wynters
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cozy mystery, romantic mystery, flowers, flower shop mystery, murder msytery, floral mystery
Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
Published: 2023-07-13T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

My car tires crunched over the gravel parking lot of Palmer's Gravel and Rock. I'd spent another sleepless night staring at the ceiling, images of the people I'd known my entire life lined up behind one-way glass like some sort of police line-up. Someone had killed Justin. Probably even someone I knew.

I'd finally surrendered and gotten out of bed an hour before the sun was up. I'd nearly gone crazy puttering around my house. The moment the rock yard had opened at six, I'd been in my car heading to the outskirts of town to talk to Tom Palmer.

I parked next to a small building tucked between piles of rock of every size and color imaginable. A large sign reading Palmer's Gravel and Rock hung above the gray metal door.

I'd spent many an afternoon as a child riding with my dad out to the rock yard to drop off Kiwanis business, which usually resulted in cups of coffee and long chats about sports, hunting, or their next poker game. I opened my car door to be greeted by a large black dog barking and sniffing around my legs.

"Hi, Gus," I said as I scratched his furry neck.

"Well, Guinevere Stevens, as I live and breathe. What are you doing out here without your dad?" Tom Palmer asked. He stood in the doorway to the office building, his hands on his hips and a smile on his round face.

"Still using Gus as a living doorbell, I see," I said, laughing as Gus licked my hand.

Tom laughed too, and his large belly shook under his faded flannel shirt. "Keeps me aware of who's coming and going. I don't need someone shoveling off a pile of rock without my knowing."

I locked the car and started toward him, Gus dancing around my feet. "You know, there are these things called security cameras," I teased. "You hang 'em up, and they tell you exactly who's coming and going."

"That's true," Tom said, running his hand over his short, gray beard. "But Gus is more fun to pet."

I reached down and ruffled Gus's silky-smooth coat. "You've got me there," I agreed.

"Come on in," Tom said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He took a step back, leaving room for me to walk into the office.

The small space hadn't been remodeled since the Carter administration. I walked across the green shag carpet that had seen better days and settled on a floral sofa under a large window that looked out onto a pile of river rock. "I wanted to talk about Justin Hunt," I answered.

Tom let the door close behind him and blew out a breath. "It's a darn shame what happened to that boy." He walked over to an ancient coffeemaker and poured himself a cup. "Do you want some?" he asked.

"No thanks," I said, waving away the offer. "I heard a rumor you fired him last week."

Tom perched on the edge of his desk, which groaned under his weight, and took a sip of the coffee, eyeing me over the top of his mug.

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