Murder at the Palace by Margaret Dumas

Author:Margaret Dumas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: book club picks;Henery Press;cozy mystery series;women sleuths;amateur sleuths;beach reads
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2018-11-19T17:10:01+00:00

Chapter 18

The Potent Flower was four blocks down and three blocks over from the Palace on a busy section of Divisadero Street. I showed my driver’s license to the guard outside the door and walked into what looked like an upscale boutique.

The shelves were light glossy wood, and the walls were a soothing gray-green. There were a few free-standing display cases with glass tops, and the overall vibe was of the kind of place you’d find in Malibu selling hundred-dollar candles endorsed by Gwyneth Paltrow. Except it was much more crowded.

And there were no candles. Instead, the shelves on the right side of the shop held a multitude of small jars containing buds of every possible shade of green. Each strain was labeled, and available for purchase au natural or already rolled. The other side of the store had more shelves, these containing beautifully packaged chocolates, caramels, teas, ointments, and other goodies, presumably all made with THC. The whole place reeked of stoner chic. It also, to a lesser extent, reeked of weed.

I looked for Monica.

She was behind the sales counter that ran along the back wall, helping out three employees who were busy at three cash registers. She spotted me at about the same time I saw her, and an expression I couldn’t identify flashed across her face before she smiled hugely in greeting.

“Nora!” She came out from behind the counter as I approached and gave me a quick hug. “I’m so glad you came! What can I do for you? Tell me what you need.”

I needed answers about Kate and Raul Acosta, but it seemed a little hasty to just plunge right in without a few polite preliminaries.

“This place is gorgeous,” I told her.

She glanced around the store, which was brimming with customers. Most of them women, and most of them my age or older. “It fills a need,” she said, straightening a row of little bottles. “I can’t tell you how tired I get of the stoner dude culture in this business. I wanted to create a safe, welcoming space for people to explore all the beautiful possibilities provided by one of nature’s most perfect plants.” She beamed at me.

“I think you’ve done it,” I said. “Um, Monica, I can see you’re busy, but I was hoping we could talk. Is this a really bad time?”

Again, that something flickered across her face and was almost instantly replaced by a smile. “No!” she said. “This is a perfect time. I don’t think the lounge is busy. Let’s go have a nice quiet cup of tea.”

“Thank you,” I said. Then, “Plain tea?”

She laughed. “Well there might be some caffeine in it, would that be a problem?”

“The more the better,” I said, and followed her past the cash registers, through a doorway that led to a windowless space almost the size of the shop out front. This room was painted a darker gray. A comfortable-looking leather bench ran the length of one wall, scattered with pillows. Small tables were arranged down the length of it.

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