Roses Have Thorns, page 13
“So that’s them, huh?” Sawyer said, turning the vase this way and that. “They’re awfully pretty for such a horrible message. Which means what?”
I pointed to the lilies. “Hatred and revenge,” then to the red tulips. “Anger, danger, wrath. The orange butterfly weed is a warning, and the yellow marigolds mean pain and grief.”
He shook his head. “I’ll never look at flowers in the same way again. I’m always going to be wondering what they mean.”
I chuckled and followed him out the door so we could go to the Flower of Scotland. Sarah had opened the shop at nine that morning and when they saw me arrive, Joss and Hazel came over and wrapped me up in a rib-crushing embrace. “Are Mum and Dad okay?” Hazel asked, her face anxious with worry.
“They’re fine,” I said, shrugging out of my coat and tying on my apron. “Dad showed everyone why the Romans never invaded Scotland. He was so fierce. Called Doug a ‘glaikit wee bawbag with a face like bulldog licking a jobbie off a nettle,’ amongst other things.”
The girls and Sawyer laughed, and after a few more hugs and assurances that I really was okay, Joss and Hazel went back to their own shops. I printed out the day’s FTD orders and took them into the back room to work on the bouquets while Sarah minded the front of the shop. Sawyer stuck to my side like a limpet and even helped fill a white wicker basket with bronze-colored mums that were being sent to a patient at the regional hospital in Blue Hill.
As we worked, I asked, “Why were you in Augusta and Portland?”
“The state crime lab finally got DNA results from the whisky tumblers found at Rob’s place,” he said, his face scrunched up in concentration as he slid a chrysanthemum into the water-soaked floral foam at the bottom of the basket. “Doug shared that whisky with Rob, then wiped his prints off the tumbler and bottle. We also found partial prints that matched his on the lead used to strangle Rob.”
“So he was definitely there that night.”
“Yep. Definitely. And in Portland, I was visiting my friend Sherry at the FBI to get a list of all the shell companies tied to the one that was billed for the flower arrangements sent to the Investment Club. There were four, all with different names and all in different tax haven countries—Anguilla, Malta, the Seychelles, and Curaçao. Sherry finally tracked them back to a company located in South Dakota with Doug listed as owner.”
I shook my head. I hadn’t even heard of half those countries. “So he for sure sent the flowers to the Investment Club members. What about the arrangement sent to me?”
“It was billed to Eleazar/Weston, the company in Malta. So he sent those, too.”
“But why? Why all of this? Why kill Rob? I don’t understand any of it.”
“My theory is that he’s on the cusp of bankruptcy. There’s almost no money in any of those off-shore accounts and his accounts here in the States are nearly drained, too. When the Investment Club turned down his proposal, I think he snapped and Rob just happened to be in the way.”
“Poor Rob. Poor Teresa.” I shook my head and finished the arrangement in front of me. “It’s all so stupid and senseless. A complete waste.”
“You can say that again.”
We let Sarah deliver the arrangements while Sawyer and I stayed behind at the shop, helping the handful of customers who stopped in. Sawyer sneaked away into the workroom periodically to take a phone call, but for the most part, he was right by my side, fetching flowers for customers and chatting with them as I rang up their purchases.
After Sarah and I closed the shop at six, the three of us headed over to my parents’ house for dinner. My father had tasked us with bringing dessert—Sarah had grabbed some cupcakes from a bakery in Blue Hill—and drinks. Knowing who’d be there that night, we got wine, some Allagash Coolship Red beer, and some blueberry soda for the teetotalers in the group.
Sawyer and I were the last to arrive, and as we entered the kitchen, I was mobbed by Dundee and Cornbread, who acted as though they hadn’t seen me in a century. I sat down on the floor with my back against the fridge and let them lick my face and flop around in my lap, whining with excitement as their tails—or in Cornbread’s case, her little nubbin—wagged in a frenzy.
After the dogs were properly greeted, Sawyer helped me to my feet and we went into the dining room, amazed at the size of the crowd massed around the table. The usual suspects were present—Mum and Dad, Dr. Steve, Brad, Joss and Noah, Mike and Hazel—but Julian Paquet and Teresa Baker were also there. I was happy to see Teresa smiling and laughing. The haunted look was almost gone from her eyes and she seemed lighter and more at ease.
Over a meal of roasted pork loin, brussels sprouts, onions, apples, and a delicious pan sauce of mustard and maple, Sawyer and I caught everyone up the case against Doug. Teresa was silent through most of it, only speaking up when Sawyer mentioned the names of the shell companies.
“I think I know all those names,” she said, her brow marred in thought. “Bloomfield Holdings, LLC must refer to the town of Bloomfield, which is where Albert Abbot lived when he arrived in Maine from England. And Edward Defense? Well, Defense is the name of the ship that Albert came over on and Edward was his eldest son’s name. Eleazar/Weston are the names of two of Albert’s grandsons, and Durham-Sylvanus is the breed of cows the Abbots bred. I’m not sure about A&P Fidelity, though. I’ll bet I could figure it out if I do a deep dive on the records.” Teresa was the president of the Wabanaki Historical Society and had a frightening memory when it came to names and dates.
“That’s really helpful, Teresa,” Sawyer said, jotting down notes on his ubiquitous notebook. “If you figure out A&P, let me know. It’ll be just another nail in Doug’s coffin. Er, so to speak.”
Teresa nodded, a look of pride in her eyes. I’m sure it was vital to her healing that she had helped with the investigation, no matter how small and seemingly inconsequential her contribution was.
We finished our meal and enjoyed the cupcakes Sarah had brought. While they weren’t as good as ones from Tout Sweet, they were still pretty tasty. I had a vanilla-bean cupcake that had a dollop of seedless raspberry jam in the center and Chambord-infused whipped cream frosting. Joss and I helped Mum with the dishes and when we returned to the dining room, talk had turned to Thanksgiving, which was only a week away.
“I want you all around the table this year,” Mum said firmly. “Julian, you and Teresa, too. Philadelphia and Newport are too far away, and with the weather as it has been lately, there’s every chance you might get stranded somewhere. So best not to tempt fate and just stay home. Joss, you invite that brother of yours. And Junie, tell Ash and Jess they’re welcome, too. If I’ve learned anything over the past month or so, it’s that life is fleeting and it’s vital to let the people in your life know you love them while you can.”
My eyes flooded with tears, and I reached for both Sawyer’s hand as well as Teresa’s. She said in a soft, unsteady voice, “I’ll be here, Clementine. Thank you for the invitation.”
Everyone else agreed after that and we fell to planning the meal. The boys’ turkey hunting trip had been quite successful; there were currently three dressed, 20-plus pound turkeys in Jason’s huge chest freezer, which was also filled with venison, moose, quail, ducks, and pheasants—all spoils of the various hunting trips he’d been hired to arrange and lead throughout the year.
By the time everyone cleared out and headed home, we’d sorted out what everyone was bringing and what time we’d eat. I knew, however, that dishes would change as would the time of the meal at least four times over the next week, so I wouldn’t hold anyone to anything they’d volunteered. Except for my father. He made cranachan every year without fail. It was a traditional Scottish dessert made with honey, toasted oats, fresh whipped cream, raspberries, and of course a wee dram or three of whisky.
Sawyer drove the dogs and I home and left me at my front door with another soul-searing kiss. He waved goodbye to the deputy in the cruiser that was parked across the street from me and headed to his big, empty house while I headed to my big, mostly empty bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Over the next week, either Sawyer, Deputy Wilkes or Deputy Merrill were my constant companions. They followed me to work and either parked on the street across from the shop or sat inside with me. They were outside my house all night and accompanied me on my deliveries during the day. They even came with the dogs and I as we walked around the neighborhood in the evenings.
I got to know the deputies well over the time I spent with them. Like Sawyer, they were former military—Beth had been in the Army and Andy was a former Marine. They were both Maine natives, too; Beth was from Bangor and Andy from Fort Kent, a tiny town in the farthest northern part of Maine, on the border with New Brunswick in Canada. Beth was single, but Andy was seeing someone and hoped to propose at Christmas.
As we got closer to Thanksgiving, I began wondering if Doug had fled the country. There had been no sightings of him since he’d disappeared after breaking into my parents’ house. A search warrant that Sawyer served at Beechwood turned up two books on floriography with margin notes written beside the entries for all the flowers in the bouquets he’d sent. Sawyer had also discovered at least a hundred copies of a proposal package for the new development Ellie Newburgh had mentioned when I’d spoken to her. Doug did indeed want to raze Whippoorwill Woods and turn it into an all-inclusive golf resort, robbing Dawn Cove of one of its natural treasures and destroying all the mom and pop shops that lined Main Street. Banking records as well as articles of incorporation for all the shell companies and bank accounts related to them turned up as well.
With all the evidence that Sawyer and the sheriff’s department had amassed against Doug, a Wabanaki county judge issued an arrest warrant for him, charging him with first-degree murder as well as breaking and entering at my parents’ house. The hunt for him ramped up, and with Julian and Dr. Steve’s help, Teresa offered a reward of $25,000 for information that helped bring Doug in.
The night before Thanksgiving, Sawyer sent both Beth and Andy home for the holiday, promising not to leave my side for at least the next 48 hours, giving them both time to spend with their own families. Sawyer had set up in my spare room, squeezing his tall frame onto the day bed that Dundee sometimes napped on. Mum had baked pumpkin pies for the deputies to take home with them. They had eaten well over the week they’d spent with me as my mother, Joss, and Hazel spoiled them with homemade goodies in thanks for keeping me safe.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Sawyer and I were busy in the kitchen making our contributions to the next day’s feast. I had promised to make green beans with slivered almonds and cranberries and a honey-balsamic sauce, as well as mashed potatoes made with a garlic-herb-flavored soft Gournay cheese, and roasted root vegetables—parsnips, rutabagas, and rainbow carrots—with a sour cherry glaze. Sawyer had found one of his dad’s cookbooks and was attempting to make Bill’s famous potato Parker House rolls and a pan of double-chocolate brownies. I’d sent him to the store to get more butter since we’d run out when making the mashed potatoes.
Just as I was taking the brownies out of the oven, Dundee began growling and snarling as he stared at the back door. I glanced over and saw a huge, hulking figure lurking on the other side. I screamed and dropped the pan of brownies. It struck the floor with a clang.
One of the panes in my back door shattered, sending shards of glass skittering across the floor. A gloved hand reached inside to fumble at the lock. Dundee lunged for the hand, clamping on and biting down, eliciting a shriek from the man on the other side of the glass. He shook his hand, somehow dislodging Dundee, and managed to unlock the door.
It swung open, revealing Doug Abbot dressed in a black tracksuit, a balaclava, and running shoes. There was a nasty little gun in his undamaged hand and he held it out, pointed at me.
“Shut them up,” he said, motioning to the dogs with the other hand. He flung splotches of blood across the floor as he gestured. “And get me a towel! Where’s Livingston?”
I stood rooted in place, a fine trembling taking over my limbs, robbing me of any control I might have had over them.
“He’s... He’s...” I couldn’t form words or even thoughts. I started crying and felt a creeping nausea settling into my belly. The dogs were still going crazy, barking and snapping and growling, but I couldn’t call them off. I couldn’t even reach for the towel that hung from the oven door in front of me.
“Shut up!” Doug yelled, brandishing the gun at the dogs now. “Make them shut up, June, or so help me I’ll shoot them right in front of you.”
Seeing him aim the pistol at my dogs and threaten their lives broke my paralysis. “D-D-Dundee. Cornbread. Leave it.”
Somehow my weak, thready whisper carried over the din and the dogs subsided somewhat, coming to sit at my feet, putting their bodies between Doug and I. Dundee’s body trembled with a nearly subsonic growl as he stared at Doug, his lips peeled back in a snarl.
“Where is Livingston?” Doug asked, pointing the gun at me once more.
“The store. He’ll be back soon. You... You should leave, Doug. Before he gets here.”
“Oh, I plan on leaving just as soon as I kill you. There’s no way I’m hanging around this dump. No one appreciates my genius. Not those idiots in the Investment Club, not the city council, no one. You know, I thought Rob had some foresight. He didn’t turn me down right away, not like the others.”
I had to keep him talking. If he was talking, then he wasn’t shooting me or my dogs. I finally reached for the towel that hung from the oven door and passed it across the counter. Dundee wouldn’t let me get any closer and considering he weighed almost as much as I did—I had a measly ten pounds on him—I was literally rooted to where I stood. “Is that why you killed Rob?” I asked, voice still shaking just as much as my hands. “Because he didn’t turn you down right away?”
“Yeah. He strung me along, let me think that he was going to be the answer to all my problems. He kept telling me that he was still considering the project, that he needed to do more research. But he had no intention of giving me anything.” He awkwardly used his teeth and his body to wrap the towel around the hand that Dundee had bitten so he didn’t have to put the gun down.
As Doug was talking, one of Dundee’s ears swiveled backwards, as though he was listening to something behind us. My heart soared. Was he hearing Sawyer’s truck arriving? Or maybe Sawyer himself coming in through the door? Keep Doug talking, I thought. Stall for time.
“That must have been frustrating,” I said, working hard not to turn and glance over my shoulder toward the front of the house. “Maybe he really did intend to invest with you, but he didn’t have the money right away. Maybe the kennels weren’t doing well this year. Kerry only had one litter, after all. She’s been having two a year since they started breeding her. That’s got to be a financial hit for them.”
Doug waved aside my words using the hand holding the gun. “Bullshit. Teresa is offering money for information about me. A lot of money. He had the funds, could have given them to me at any time. But instead, he made me think he was going to help me out and then didn’t. I’m going to lose everything now. I’m going to go bankrupt, June. My family’s fortune is gone. All two hundred years of it. Gone, just like that. And it was all Rob’s fault.”
I saw a shape in the window behind Doug and could just make out Sawyer’s face. He held a gloved finger to his lips. I dipped my head in a nod, covering it by looking down at the floor in front of me. Both of Dundee’s ears had swiveled backwards, and I thought I could make out the squeaking of a floorboard in the hallway. I reached down to push Dundee out of the way, trying to cover whatever noise was coming from behind me.
“Don’t move,” Doug said, the gun and his gaze snapping back to my face. “I’m serious, June. I’m not afraid to kill you.” He snorted. “I wasn’t afraid to kill Rob, either.”
I glanced past him to the door, wondering what Sawyer was waiting for. He seemed to be looking past me, down the hall to the front door, and held up three fingers, then lowered one and then the last. The back door slammed open and he shouted, “Sheriff’s Department! Put down your gun, Doug. It’s over.”
Beth Wilkes appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, startling a bark out of Cornbread, but Dundee remained sitting on my feet. He’d known she was there. The deputy had her gun aimed at Doug, her attention on the man while Sawyer moved closer.
Doug looked back and forth between Beth and Sawyer, frantic for a moment before his shoulders slumped and he let the gun dangle loose from his finger. Sawyer stepped forward and reached over his shoulder, plucking the gun out of his hand and stuffing it into the pocket of his coat. Beth holstered her pistol and brought out her handcuffs, turning Doug around and cuffing his hands behind him. My knees gave out, and I collapsed on the floor next to Dundee. He put his head over my shoulder and leaned his full weight against me while I hugged him and cried with relief.
After Doug was in custody and Beth had read him his Miranda rights, she took him out and sat him in the back of her patrol car. When they were gone, Sawyer knelt next to me and threw his arms around me, dragging me into a tight hug that wedged Dundee between us. I clung to both of them, a bitter taste flooding my mouth as I cried even harder. Dundee whined and wriggled out of the clench before giving my hand a gentle lick before he sat back down next to Sawyer and I.
“You okay?” Sawyer asked, running a hand down the side of my head before cupping my cheek.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said, raising my eyes to look up at him with an apologetic smile.
He chuckled softly. “That’s the adrenaline. It’ll pass.” He kissed my forehead again.
I nodded and drew in a huge breath, holding it until I could feel my pulse slow. The sick feeling passed, and the shaking in my hands lessened. “How long were you standing back there?”
“I got here shortly after he did, I guess. I heard Dundee barking and you screaming and decided to come around the back. I had to wait until Beth could get here, though. Otherwise I would have come in earlier. I’m so sorry about making you endure all that.”
