Night Of The Living Dandelion Part 23

Grace and Lottie were standing at the window watching for me, and when they saw Marco's car out front, they sprang into action. Within five minutes, I was in the wheelchair sitting in the parlor with a cup of coffee in front of me, filling them in on Jillian's escape.

"Claymore has a posse out looking for her," I said. "So far no reports."

"Maybe this will explain her whereabouts. It was by the cash register this morning." Lottie handed me an envelope that was marked in capital letters: TO A. KNIGHT FROM J.

KNIGHT-OSBORNE, FORMER WARDROBE CONSULTANT.

I opened it and unfolded the piece of Bloomers stationery inside. In a spidery hand, Jillian had written: I've gone to be with my own kind.

I know you think I'm out of my mind,

But thanks for the meat on which I dined.

Your cousin Jillian has this note signed.

P.S. I never expected you to try to poison me, too.

Grace and Lottie read it over my shoulder; then Lottie said, "Why would she think you tried to poison her?"

"I hid antibiotics in her food and left it in the fridge, but it didn't work. She found the pills and left them behind."

"Does your cousin always rhyme her notes?" Grace asked.

"She never did before. Jillian always hated poetry. Mother Goose rhymes used to give her fits. When Jill tumbled down the hill after Jack, Jillian took it personally."

"Her own kind," Lottie mused. "Would that be delusional rich people?"

"If Jillian truly believes she's turning into a vampire," Grace said, "she might check herself into a hospital, mightn't she?"

"Or a bat cave," Lottie offered.

Hmm. Where would Jillian go? I didn't have a clue. But I knew someone who might. All I needed was a reason to drop by and see him.

"What I'd like to know," Lottie said, "is how Jillian got out of here without setting off the alarm."

"That puzzled me, too," I said, "but I think I've figured it out. Remember when Jillian was helping out here while I was investigating the clown's murder during Picklefest? I gave her a spare key and never asked for it back. She was usually with me when I set the alarm at night, so she probably memorized it. She has an uncanny memory for numbers-phone numbers, dates, bank accounts, you name it."

"She sure has your mom worried," Lottie said. "She and your dad helped Jillian's parents search until late in the night."

"You talked to my mom this morning?"

"She dropped off another mobile," Grace said. "Lottie and I have already unpacked it. You'll find it hanging safely behind the dieffenbachia."

Right. Like there were any safe spots when it came to Mom's art.

Lottie was tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I was just thinking about something. You heard there was another so-called vampire sighting last night, didn't you?"

"No. Where?" I asked.

"People coming out of the movie theater reported seeing someone in a long black hooded cape running out of the bushes and disappearing behind the building," Lottie said. "And Jillian was wearing a black cape with a hood when she showed up here. Do you think it might have been her?"

"I'll let Claymore know so he can search there," I said.

"It sure started up the rumor mills again," Lottie said. "The radio was full of people reporting sightings. Then the leader of that so-called Garlic Party phoned in and put out a call to arms. This vampire hysteria is out of control. I feel sorry for Marco's friend."

"If I were Vlad," I said, "I'd be hopping a train to Chicago."

"By the way, love," Grace said, "the plants you ordered for Vlad are in."

"The dandelions, too?"

"Yes, two flats of dandelions. That's what you ordered, wasn't it?"

And there was my reason!

"What the heck does he want with so many weeds?" Lottie asked.

"Maybe I'll find out when I deliver them."

"You're going to deliver them?" Lottie glanced at my wheelchair. "I don't think so."

"My two weeks are almost up," I said. "I should be able to take my bandage off so I can put on a shoe and drive."

"That's a bad idea, sweetie," Lottie said, as I unwrapped the mile of Ace bandage around my ankle and foot. "I'll deliver the orders. You stay put."

"I agree with Lottie," Grace said. "There's no need to test your ankle when she can make the deliveries. You can't rush the healing process."

I knew they were looking out for my best interests, but delivering those houseplants to Vlad was an opportunity I couldn't miss. I tossed the stretchy bandage aside and examined my lower leg. Other than my ankle being a tad on the scaly side, it didn't look that bad. The swelling was completely gone.

I braced my hands on the arms of the chair, putting first my good foot and then the bare one on the floor. Then I rose to test my weight and-voila! It worked. I was standing without help. Boy, did that feel great.

I held out my hands. "See? I'm fine!"

"Oh, Lordy, she's gonna fall," Lottie said, covering her eyes.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'll still use the crutches to keep the weight off my ankle."

"How do you propose to carry the arrangements up to the customers' doors?" Grace asked, handing me the Evil Ones.

Rats. Another obstacle. Obviously I needed help, but I couldn't use one a.s.sistant and leave the other alone. Who could I get to go with me?

"I think I have a solution," I said, hop-stepping toward the curtain.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

"Do you have your other shoe," Grace called, "and sock?"

Yet another obstacle to overcome. Good thing I loved a challenge. I rummaged through cabinets in the workroom and found an old pair of yellow rubber rain boots. Not the most fashionable footwear to complement my pencil skirt, but they'd have to do.

I propped the crutches beside my desk and sat down to phone Rafe at the apartment he shared with Marco. "Hey, Rafe, are you busy later this morning?"

"I'm supposed to meet with Marco at ten o'clock to go over bar stuff. Why?"

Another obstacle? "Never mind. You answered my question. Oh, and, Rafe? You did not get this call."

"I'm cool with that."

I thought about my delivery dilemma as we opened Bloomers and settled into our normal routines. Business had definitely dropped off. I counted only six orders on the spindle. At least I'd have no problem finishing them by midmorning so I could have a good hour for deliveries before lunch-if I could find a ride.

Before I started working on the first order, I logged onto my Mys.p.a.ce page and found answers from Dana Trumble's friends, whose Web site ident.i.ties were Becky Delight and Alison St. J. Both wrote that they thought we should meet in person. Becky had included her phone number, so I gave her a call to invite them to come to Bloomers for free coffee and scones.

"That's very kind of you," Becky said in a cautious tone, "but before we accept, I have to ask what you're planning and whether Jerry is going to be included."

"I hadn't actually gotten around to planning anything yet," I told her. "I was waiting to hear from you."

"Well, just so you know," Becky said, "if you want Jerry included, we're out of it."

That was interesting. "I'm fine with that, Becky, but may I ask why?"

"We'll tell you at the meeting. Will five o'clock this afternoon work?"

"That would be perfect. See you then."

I pulled the first order and went to work. The client wanted a luncheon arrangement using the colors of a vegetable salad, so I wheeled to the first cooler to pull the appropriate stems.

To represent yellow peppers, I selected brilliant yellow Gerbera and solidago; for tomatoes, a rose called Rosa Etoile de Holland; freesia for the softer yellow of summer squash; white narcissi for the onion; and purple sage and hosta leaves for the greens. For texture and scent, I decided on oregano and basil, but someone had beat me to them, so I used feathery dill and the pine-needle-like rosemary instead.

Later I asked Lottie about the missing herbs.

"They should be there, sweetie," Lottie said. "I put a new batch in the cooler Monday morning and haven't touched them since . . . although I did see some oregano leaves on the counter by the envelope that Jillian left this morning. Is it possible she took them?"

"I can't think of why she would," I said.

"My granny used to treat infections with oregano leaves," Lottie said. "She swore by her home-brewed basil tea, too. Said it would clean out a body's poisons."

"This is Jillian," I reminded her. "The closest she's ever come to a home remedy is gargling with salt water for a sore throat."

"Speaking of Jillian," Grace said, "has there been any word?"

"None. I think I'll give Claymore a call."

I went to my desk in the workroom and dialed Claymore's cell phone. He answered anxiously, "Yes? h.e.l.lo?"

"Clay, it's Abby. Have you heard from Jillian?"

"No," he answered wearily, "and I'm desperate. I checked all the hotels in the area, as well as the hospitals, but no luck. She could be dying somewhere, Abby. I tried to go to work, but I can't concentrate. I feel like I have to keep looking for her."

The proverbial lightbulb went on. "Are you driving around now?"

"Yes."

"In that case, would you like to help me make a few deliveries? I could really use some a.s.sistance and we can look for Jillian at the same time."

There was a long pause, and then he asked gingerly, "Do I have to drive your minivan?"

Even in a desperate state, a blue-blooded Osborne couldn't bring himself to sink to such depths. "If you want to use your BMW, Clay, that's fine. It has a big trunk, right?"

"Of course."

"How soon can you be here?"

It was a new experience making deliveries in Claymore's big black BMW. More than a few customers' mouths fell open when they opened their door and saw it parked at the curb. And they didn't know what to make of the man in the expensive suit who handed them their arrangements.

After the sixth stop, Claymore got behind the wheel with a big smile on his face. "I can see why you like your work. Everyone is delighted to get flowers."

"It's the best feeling in the world," I said.

"Five more stops?" Claymore asked, as we drove away.

"Actually, only one. The rest of the plants are going to the same place. The Casa Royale Apartments."