Roses and Daisies and Death Oh My! Read online

“It looks like he was stabbed in the back. The coroner is guessing around midnight. And he was killed somewhere else and dumped there.”

  “Midnight?” asked Rose. “Malcolm was barking his little head off right around then. I thought it was raccoons.”

  Bill wrote something in his notebook. He got up and said, “I’d appreciate it if you keep all this quiet for now. Don’t talk to the press or the neighbors.”

  “What kind of cloud was he under when he resigned?” asked Daisy.

  “I’m not at liberty to talk about it.”

  Daisy stood up and looked up at him sort of eye to chin. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means, it’s not your business. Don’t go nosing into things the police are handling. I know you Daisy. You just can’t leave things alone. Well, I’m telling you to leave this alone!”

  “Look, Bill, you come in here and ask a favor and then try that high-handed crap with me. I’m not your wife anymore, thank God, and I really don’t need this from you. If something sinister is going on in our neighborhood, we have a right to know,” said Daisy.

  Just then Angela Forrest breezed in, knelt down and hugged the dog like a long lost friend. “I heard about your day, you poor little thing. What a terrible thing for a little doggie. Have my girls been taking good care of you?”

  She buried her face in his fur for a moment, then looked up and saw Bill Greene standing there.

  “What are you doing here?” She looked at her daughter, “Daisy, why is he here? You’re not thinking of taking him back are you?”

  “Of course not.”

  Angela stared at Bill and said, “Why aren’t you with your little Bambi person? You have a nerve coming here at all after the way you behaved. Sic him, Malcolm.”

  Malcolm let out a bark and promptly mounted Bill Greene’s leg.

  “Mother,” said Rose, “calm down and don’t encourage the idiot dog. Malcolm, behave yourself. Daisy get your dumb dog.”

  Daisy grabbed Malcolm and said, “Mother, Bill is here investigating the murder of that man. And I believe he was just leaving.”

  Bill said, “As fast as I can. You’re all just as nuts as ever. Daisy, Rose, remember what we talked about. And call me if you remember anything else.”

  “Are you two all right? What a terrible thing finding that man. Who was he? How did he die?”

  Daisy answered, “We’re fine. It was just a shock. He was a homeless man named Ted who’s been hanging around. Our new neighbor, Marc Proctor, knew him a little. He said he was just a harmless drunk.”

  “How very sad. I was speaking to Lenore Albert on the phone and Mary Newhart came in and told her you’d found a body. I couldn’t believe it! So I came right over.”

  “Mother, how did you get in here? The front door was locked, wasn’t it?” asked Rose.

  “You gave me a key to the apartment. Remember? You never know when an emergency might happen and I would need to get in here to help you.”

  “Sorry, I forgot. I did. You’re right, you’re the very first person we’d call,” said Daisy.

  Rose checked to make sure the shop was locked up and turned to her mother. “Mother, we had an alarm system installed. I want to show you how it works. Because if it goes off, it rings the city police department directly, as well as the alarm company. And we really don’t want any false alarms if we can help it. They get very snippy.”

  She led Angela up the stairs to the landing where the new key pad was installed.

  “Okay, here it is. Mother, are you paying attention?”

  Angela seemed to be studying the keypad. “Hmm? Oh yes. I wonder why they can’t seem to make these a little more attractive. Something that would blend in with the décor.”

  “I have no idea. This is what they gave us. I only know how it works. If the red light is on, it means that the alarm is on. You have forty-five seconds to put in the correct four digit code. And we made it an easy one for you to remember. It’s you’re birthday. You put it in like this, 031….”

  “All right, I’m not an idiot. I know my own birthday. Well, I must say I feel better knowing that you’re alarmed. And, of course, Malcolm is here.”

  “Yes,” said Rose, “he can hump the poor sap silly while we phone you. And while we’re on the subject, if the alarm does go off someone from the police or the alarm company calls within a minute. The safety word is ‘Champagne Taste’. That will tell them everything is okay and that the alarm went off by mistake. The panic word is ‘Malcolm’. We figured it could be worked into a sentence that might fool an intruder.”

  “Okay, let’s see. I’ve got it. My birthday, Champagne Taste for all right and little Malcolm for panic. Piece of pie!

  “Now tell me all about it. No wait. Let’s get comfy and order some dinner first. You two look like death warmed over. Pizza and Bloody Marys with lots of vodka. That’s the ticket. And then you can tell all.”

  Reporters had started calling at six-thirty the next morning. Daisy finally unplugged the phone. At seven-thirty, she was sitting in the kitchen, sipping tea, and reading the front page of the newspaper. She laughed. “Bill must be furious. It’s all in here. Murdered ex-cop, Theodore Williamson, found near bike trail resigned under cloud.”

  Rose said, “Oh, that’s not good. Are we mentioned by name?”

  “Right now we’re just local residents.” She kept reading, “Apparently the cloud he was under had something to do with a missing diamond, the Maryland Fleur de Lis.”

  “I remember that. Sometime in the late nineties. It was a big scandal. It was stolen during a party at the Maryland Historical Society and I don’t think it’s ever been found.”

  Daisy continued reading. “No, it hasn’t. Ted Williamson was the one guarding it the night it was stolen. He resigned shortly afterward and went into private security. That’s about it.”

  Someone started pounding on their front door and Rose walked down to answer it. She came back followed by their friendly neighborhood reporter, Jeff Moody.

  He walked in and held his hand out to Daisy.

  She yawned and said, “It’s very early. What do you want?”

  “I was hoping for an interview.”

  Rose said, “The police asked us not to talk to reporters.”

  Daisy looked at Rose and said, “Could we talk in private?”

  They went into the kitchen and Daisy said, “The papers already have the story. And Jeff might have a lot of information. You and I both know Bill isn’t going to tell us anything if he can help it.”

  “I don’t know, Daisy. We don’t know anything about him.”

  “I’ve read his articles in the Bulletin. He’s no worse than any of them. And, anyway, we don’t have anything to tell him that’s not already in the paper.”

  Rose shrugged. “All right. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  They went back into the living room and Daisy said, “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Moody, you tell us what you’ve got and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “What I’ve got?”

  “You know what I mean. I’ll bet you have all sorts of stuff on the dead guy, don’t you?”

  Jeff thought a minute, then said, “Okay, but I want an exclusive.”

  Daisy said, “You’ve got it. We won’t talk to any reporter but you.”

  He pulled a huge sheaf of computer printouts from his backpack. “What do you want to know?”

  “Could we start with the diamond?”

  “Sure.” Jeff thumbed through the pile and pulled out an old clipping.

  He handed it to Rose who started reading. Daisy said, “Read out loud. I can’t see over your shoulder.”

  “The Fleur de Lis belonged to the Calvert family. Cecil Calvert, the Second Lord Baltimore, gave a unique diamond pendant to Anne Arundell on their wedding day. The pendant itself was made of fine white gold in the shape of an iris. Mounted on it was a sixty-nine carat grey diamond with an inclusion that happened to be shaped like a fleur de lis.


  “Yada, yada, yada. Anne Arundell gave it to her son Charles as a family heirloom. Her grandson Benedict Leonard Calvert brought it to Maryland.

  “It continued down the family line until 1956 when the Calvert family gave it to the Maryland Historical Society.”

  Rose looked up and said, “Wow. How big is a sixty-nine carat diamond?”

  Jeff said, “About the size of a golf ball.”

  Daisy asked, “How does this tie in with Ted Williamson?”

  Jeff said, “It’s kind of complicated. I was up most of the night reading these old newspaper accounts. Here’s the deal. In January 1998 the diamond disappeared during a party at the Maryland Historical Society. The police suspected Marcus Worthington right away. Actually, they were sure he took it, but after months of investigation they still couldn’t prove anything.”

  “The Marcus Worthington?” asked Daisy. “The Marcus Worthington who was in the papers almost daily for years?”

  Rose said, “I haven’t read about him much lately, but he used to get around a lot. Charity balls, auctions, political parties, and a few drunken bar fights, if I remember rightly.”

  “You do. He was also extremely wealthy and an eccentric collector. Not to mention a person of interest in at least one other jewel theft – a rare scarab taken from the Cairo museum that ended up in his collection. Nothing could be proved that time either and he returned the scarab with apologies for the misunderstanding. The museum let it drop. My guess is a lot of money also changed hands.”

  “Okay. Not a very honest man. But why did the police think he stole the Fleur de Lis?” asked Rose.

  “Apparently, he was obsessed with the thing. He even tried to buy it from the Historical Society. And he was there at the gala the night it was stolen from around the neck of one of the Calvert ladies who was wearing it.”

  Jeff stood up and stretched. “Could I have some coffee? It’s been a long night.”

  Daisy made coffee and tea. As they sat at the table Daisy said, “Were there any other suspects? There must have been a lot of people there that night.”

  Jeff said, “Not really. I talked to one of the old guys at the paper and he told me that when the cops interviewed Worthington, every one of them knew in their guts that he took it. But no way could they prove it.

  “They were baffled. Every single person was searched before they left the building that night, guests, museum staff, even the caterers. The cops went over the museum with a fine tooth comb. How he did it, they still don’t know. And, of course, the stone never surfaced.”

  Daisy said, “All of this is very interesting, but how does it relate to that poor man I found?”

  Jeff pawed through his papers and pulled out another sheet. “Theodore Williamson was a state trooper moonlighting as a guard at the museum that night. He was the man on duty in the room where it was displayed. He claimed he never left his post. A couple of months later he left the police and began working private security for Worthington. I don’t know what happened after that or why he ended up dead in the woods.”

  “Now here comes the really neat part I got from a pal on the force. Worthington died three months ago. His will stipulated that his estate had to be liquidated as soon as possible and all proceeds were left to the Maryland Historical Society.

  “The will also said that since he knew he was the chief suspect in the theft, he granted the police permission to search his home before the estate was put up for auction. They didn’t find a thing.”

  “Holy cow!” said Rose. “When did they auction off the estate? Do you know who was there?”

  “A couple of weeks ago. And I haven’t found that out yet. Okay, your turn.”

  Daisy said, “What do you want to know? We were taking a walk with our dog and found a dead body. Rose called the police.”

  “Did you see a weapon?”

  “No.”

  “Did you know who he was?”

  “No. Not for sure.”

  “How did you feel when you found him?”

  Rose said, “Oh, come on. What a dumb question. How do you think? It was horrible.”

  He jotted something in his notebook and turned to Daisy, “I hear you have an ‘in’ with the police. They must have told you something.”

  Daisy said, “Sorry, Jeff, no inside information. That’s all we know.”

  “What? You must have something more for me. Clues at the scene? Something!”

  “Sorry. Nothing else to tell you. And we need to get a move on.”

  Jeff got up and said, “Well, thanks, I guess. But don’t forget you promised me an exclusive.”

  After he left Rose said, “I wonder who was at that auction? How could we find out?”

  “Bill must know. The question is how I get him to tell me. ”

  As Daisy was closing up the shop that afternoon, Bill Greene came in and said, “Daisy, can we talk?”

  “About what?”

  “Look, I’ve thought it over and, you’re right. You have every right to know what’s going on.”

  Daisy looked at him and said, “I do?”

  “Yes. How about we sit down some place, have a cup of coffee and act like grown-ups?”

  “I can do that. Give me a minute to finish up here.” She shut down the register, turned out the lights and said, “Where should we have this coffee?”

  “The Tavern?”

  A couple of minutes later, they were sitting in a booth in awkward silence. Bill finally said, “Where’s Rose?”

  “She went to the bank. Should I call her?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, Bill, what did you want to tell me?”

  “I want to explain why I don’t want you nosing into this. It’s not because of ‘us’. I mean, I’m not just trying to tell you what to do. I just don’t want you getting hurt. This murder was brutal.”

  “Then fill me in and I won’t have to ask a lot of questions.”

  “We have reason to believe that Ted Williamson’s murder was connected to the theft of a diamond ten years ago.”

  “I know. Actually I know about the diamond, Marcus Worthington, and that his estate was auctioned off a couple of weeks ago.”

  “How did you find all that out?”

  “I have my sources.”

  Bill rolled his eyes. “Well, then, here is the bad stuff. We suspect one of the local dealers was involved with the theft. Or, at least, had some knowledge of the diamond. Six dealers from Old Towne were at that auction. Your friend, Marc Proctor, was one of them.”

  “My friend?”

  “Well, I’ve heard you’ve been seeing him.”

  “Bill, that’s not your business and you know it.”

  “It is if the guy’s a killer.”

  “Why would you think that? Because he bought something at an auction? He’s a dealer, for crying out loud. That’s what he does.”

  “No. Because Marc Proctor worked for Worthington around the time the diamond was stolen.”

  Daisy was silent for a moment. Then she said, “I don’t believe Marc is capable of murdering anyone.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “Not well. He only moved in a little while ago. But I can read people. I’d know if he was a killer – or a thief!”

  “Daisy, I rely on facts and so far they point to Marc Proctor. I’m asking you to be careful.”

  “I will be. I know I could be wrong. But deep down, I know I’m not.”

  “Okay. Can I ask you to do something?”

  “What?”

  “Just don’t let him get too close. And promise you’ll tell me if you think he’s up to something?”

  “You want me to spy on him?”

  “Not spy. Just let me know what he’s doing.”

  Daisy got up. “Bill, you are such a jackass. For a minute there I thought you really just wanted to make sure I was safe. How silly of me.”

  When Daisy got back to the shop, Rose was on the porch talking to Hazel Monroe and Mary Newhart.


  Mary said, “Wasn’t that your ex-husband I just saw you go into the Tavern with?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Rose looked at her and said, “What did he want?”

  “He wanted to talk about Marc Proctor. He actually asked if I’m seeing him.”

  “Are you?” Mary and Hazel asked in unison.

  “Oh my God, not that it’s anyone’s business, but NO! I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

  Rose asked, “What did you tell Bill?”

  “I told him that he’s a jackass,” said Daisy.

  “Didn’t he tell you anything about the murder? Does he think it has anything to do with all the break-ins?” asked Hazel. “It’s great that you have an in with the police. You can keep us all up to date.”

  “I don’t have an in with anyone. And he really didn’t discuss it. I think he just wanted to annoy me.”

  Mary said, “Well, that’s too bad. I was hoping he’d have some answers. I don’t like the feeling that a murderer is so close.”

  Daisy said, “Neither do I.”

  Chapter Four

  As she set the table for dinner Rose asked, “Okay, what did Bill really want? Did he tell you anything about the murder?”

  “Actually, he told me who was at the auction!”

  “Who?”

  “Mary, Hazel, Marc, Lenore, Sandy Peters, and Seth Morris. And then he asked me to spy on Marc.” Daisy told her about Bill’s suspicions.

  “Really? That doesn’t sound good.”

  Daisy sighed, “No. It doesn’t. But I still don’t believe he’s a murderer.”

  Rose asked, “Why did you tell the Hazel and Mary that he wanted to know if you’re seeing Marc?”

  “Because he did. And so they’d think he was only talking about personal stuff, not the murder,” answered Daisy.

  She put the Chicken Marsala on the table and asked, “What do you think about Marc?”

  “I kind of agree with you. I can’t see Marc as a killer. But Bill has a point. We don’t know him all that well. What did you tell Bill?”

  Daisy said, “Not a thing. I don’t really have anything to tell, anyway.”

  They sat down and Rose poured some wine and lifted her glass. “Cheers!”