A gentleman under the mi.., p.1
Gina Wetherby Mysteries Boxed Set, page 1
Gina Wetherby Mysteries
Linda Jordan
Metamorphosis Press
Copyright © 2017 by Linda Jordan
Published by Metamorphosis Press
Contents
Horticultural Homicide
Day 1 - Friday
Day 2 - Saturday
Day 3 - Sunday
Day 4 - Monday
Day 5 - Tuesday
Day 6 - Wednesday
Day 7 - Thursday
Day 8 - Friday
Day 9 - Saturday
Day 10 - Sunday
Day 11 - Monday
Day 12 - Tuesday
Day 13 - Wednesday
Day 14 - Thursday
Poison Passion
Wednesday Morning
Wednesday Afternoon
Wednesday Evening
Thursday Morning
Thursday Afternoon
Thursday Evening
Friday Morning
Friday Afternoon
Friday Evening
Saturday Morning
Saturday Afternoon
Saturday Evening
Sunday Morning
Katie’s Super Secret Chocolate Cinnamon Rolls**
Foul Play & Fritillaries
Tuesday Morning
Tuesday Afternoon
Thursday Morning
Thursday Afternoon
Thursday Evening
Friday Morning
Friday Afternoon
Saturday Morning
Sunday Afternoon
Monday Morning
Tuesday Afternoon
Wednesday Morning
Thursday Morning
Friday Morning
Saturday Morning
Sunday Morning
Gina’s Plant Notes:
About the Author
For Michael & Zoe
Horticultural Homicide
Day 1 - Friday
Georgina Wetherby, Gina, stared out the large picture window facing Puget Sound, debating whether to wear a raincoat or fleece. Rain. It looked like rain. Down below, whitecaps were picking up. She could see spray from a gray whale’s blow. They were just offshore, feeding on shrimp.
Her small house sat perched on a hillside overlooking the Sound. A chunk of generous acreage which was mostly flat. The hill, above and below, was stable. Unlike many in this part of the country. Ewan had seen to that. He’d had every type of survey done to ensure the craftsman style house was safe before they’d bought it decades ago. As a summer house.
Gina had fallen in love with it at first sight. Weary of maintaining the huge three story house on Capital Hill in Seattle, this one was perfect. One story, four bedrooms, which was perfect for them. His office, her studio, a guest room and their bedroom.
Now of course, it was too much for just her. She was on her own now.
Ewan had retired from lawyering for nonprofits at sixty, she’d left her marketing job and they’d moved out here to Raven Island. Sold the house in Seattle, where the kids had grown up. Then he’d had several strokes over just a few months and died.
He’d up and died on her.
Gina picked up her mug of tea from the thick oak table and sipped the now cold liquid.
She’d been alone for five years.
Alone except for Albert and Alice, her monster Maine Coon cats, who she’d gotten from the local animal shelter as kittens. Albert was perched on the back of the couch, bathing his luxurious black fur with gray tips, and occasionally chirping at birds outside in the garden. Alice had stolen Gina’s favorite chair. The orange and white puff of fur curled in a circle so one couldn’t see her face or her tail, looking for all the world like a fuzzy pillow.
Gina downed the rest of the rose congou tea and cream, savoring the richness, then rinsed the mug and put it in the dishwasher. Then glanced at the clock. 8 a.m.
She’d better get going. Those illustrations weren’t going to paint themselves. The May Day Show at the gallery was coming up fast and she wasn’t going to get caught empty-handed.
Gina slid the forest green raincoat over her long sleeve blue T-shirt and jeans, then decided on rubber boots in case she wanted to walk in the nursery’s garden. She glanced at the mirror and tried to pat her short-cropped silver hair down, then gave up. She picked up her art supplies, water bottle, purse and keys. As an afterthought, she grabbed her canvas rain hat.
“See you later kids, be good.”
Then closed and locked the door that led to the carport. She loaded up the sky blue Prius and got in.
It only took five minutes to get to Ravenswood Nursery. Five minutes of two lane blacktop weaving through massive cedars, Douglas firs and big leaf maples. The latter which hung heavy with blooms and tiny leaves which would grow to be larger than her head.
It was still early April, but it felt springlike. The air full of the hope of new growth.
There were several cars in the gravel parking lot already. Staff getting ready for a big day.
This week a big horticultural conference had been held in Seattle. Today, Saturday, Sunday and Monday were tours of local gardens. The nursery was on the tour maps.
People from all over the world would be coming to the nursery hoping to score rare and exotic plants. Delia Swanson, one of the owners, traveled extensively hunting plants. Climbing up mountainsides and bringing back seeds and cuttings. Propagating rare beauties and selling them. Introducing them to American gardeners. She wrote books about her travels and the plants. She was a rising star in the Horticultural firmament.
Over the years, Gina had watched Delia build a mystique around the nursery’s brand. She admired her business instincts, but Delia was a workaholic and a bit of a braggart. “I’ve got this plant and you don’t.”
The nursery did mail order, as well as in-person sales. The website was a wonder to behold. The place had become so popular they sold out of plants faster than they could propagate them. If you wanted something, you needed to order early.
One of her closest friends, Melanie Caruthers, worked at the nursery as the propagation manager, so Gina heard a lot about the place. The good and the bad. Melanie was also the one who’d gotten permission for Gina to come in and do her work at the nursery.
She parked in a tiny spot, out of the way of guests, and got her supplies out of the back seat, leaving the purse and hat. Gina locked the car and headed off for the tropical greenhouse.
The nursery lay on ten acres, seven of which held a world class garden, the other three acres contained greenhouses, a small store, a tented seating area for customers to eat brown bag lunches or just sit, and Delia and Renee’s house.
Gina walked down the gravel path littered with lavender flowers dropped by the majestic empress tree. The tubular blossoms, the size of a finger, gave off a sweet scent that perfumed the air all the way past the first set of greenhouses. She walked down the gravel aisle, a greenhouse on every side. These were hoop houses, long tunnels of heavy clear plastic, held up by arches of pipe. Flat walls with doors enclosed each end.
Delia popped out of a greenhouse followed by Max, her black dog who looked part lab, part Australian shepherd. He ran over to Gina and wagged his tail.
“Well, good morning Max. How ya doin’?” Gina asked, ruffling his soft fur.
“Hi Gina. Are you painting today?”
“Yes, I thought I’d work in the tropical greenhouse. Try to stay out of the shoppers’ way.” There was nothing for sale in that greenhouse.
“Wonderful. I know people will love to see you at work,” said Delia, smiling. “Oh, check and see if Maisie’s in there, would you? She didn’t come for breakfast. Of course, she might have caught something to eat. She was out all hunting all night.”
Delia was dressed in her normal khaki pants, rubber boots, t-shirt and Ravenswood Nursery hoodie. Her curly strawberry blond hair was loose instead of tied back, which meant she was dressed up. For leading tours, not gardening.
“I’ll look for her,” said Gina. “Good luck with the tours.”
“I just love showing off the nursery and gardens. This conference is going to cement our place on the map.”
“Bye Max,” said Gina.
He barked in reply, then followed Delia off down the gravel path, bouncing like a puppy and quickly overtaking her long strides.
Gina continued in the opposite direction.
Everything in the world revolved around Delia and her nursery. At least as far as Delia was concerned. Little else interested her.
The farthest pair of greenhouses inside the area not roped off, were heated. They were both marked private. The one on the left was the first propagation greenhouse, where babies were being grown on before they moved into the sale greenhouses. The one on the right was the tropical greenhouse. Display plants and some of Delia’s personal collection lived here during the winter.
Gina walked in the door, shutting it behind her. The warmth and humidity were obvious. And the scent was incredible. There was a jasmine or maybe a Gardenia, or both, blooming now. She hadn’t paid attention because she was focused on splashy flowers for this show. Normally, she looked at foliage. But with the May Day theme, lush flowers seemed more appropriate.
Several large plants were missing from the front of the greenhouse. It must have been deemed safe to take them outside for the day. Or perhaps they’d been moved out until fall. Gina didn’t pay much attention to tropical plant needs. She just liked to paint them, not grow them.
She walked down the aisle to where she’d been working yesterday. Her stool was still there. She set her bag of supplies down on a plywood plant table and slipped out of her raincoat, putting it next to the bag. She walked through the greenhouse, looking at the plant benches. On the one closest to the portable heater, she found Maisie, curled up in a black ball.
“Hi Maisie, do you want out?” Gina petted her sleek fur.
Maisie lifted her head, opened her golden eyes, meowed and curled back up to sleep.
“Well, I guess not.”
The nursery cats, Maisie and Flopsy, had long ago found any holes in the greenhouses’ plastic and came and went at will. They probably preferred the heated greenhouses, as did mice or other wildlife.
She extracted her folding easel from the bag and set it up. Then pulled out the watercolor pad with her partially finished painting on it. Then her paints, brushes, paint-water cup and bottle. She set the paints and brushes on the plant bench. Opened the water bottle and poured some water into the cup and set it on the easel as well. Then sipped cold water from the bottle and put it on the plant bench.
Gina was painting a lavender and peach-colored Hibiscus with swirly petals. It was a lovely thing. It might be marginally hardy here, in the ground. But it certainly wouldn’t be blooming in April, if it was outside.
She heard two women talking outside the comfortable bubble of the tropical greenhouse, but couldn’t hear the actual words. There were shadows on the gravel path outside.
Then the voices grew louder. Delia and Renee, Delia’s partner in business and love.
“You lying bitch! You said there was nothing between the two of you. Then I heard last night that you slept with him,” yelled Renee.
“Renee, it was nothing really. I just wanted to try him out.”
“For what? Are you auditioning him? To replace me?”
“No. I love you,” yelled Delia.
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t be sleeping around.”
The arguing continued. It made Gina uncomfortable, hearing such personal information. Yet, she couldn’t stop listening.
“We can work this out,” said Delia. “I know it.”
“What if I don’t want to work it out? What if I don’t want to share you? And now you want to bring him into the business?”
“He’s got a lot of money. It would help so much.”
“I don’t want his bloody money!” yelled Renee. “Besides we have an offer from one of the drug companies.”
“Yes, but it’s not enough. We’ll need more money than that to do everything we want.”
“Well, I don’t want him in the business.”
“We’ll talk about this later. There’s too many people around.”
“No, we won’t talk about this later. This discussion is closed!” yelled Renee.
Even through the muffling plastic wall, Gina heard her stomp off on the crunchy gravel path.
Wow, that was a lot of information she didn’t want to know. Delia sleeping with a man. Renee and Delia had just celebrated their fifteenth anniversary as a couple. Then about ten years ago, they’d become business partners and opened the nursery. Now Delia was sleeping around with some man who wanted to buy into the business? Who could that be? She was sure lots of people would want to join the partnership, but not many of them had money. The nursery was having more than its fifteen minutes of fame right now.
Gina shook her head to clear it and refocused her attention. She worked steadily for an hour, laying down layer after layer of color near the center of the flowers, deepening the leaves’ shadows. Making the painting more accurate with each stroke. She’d done the wash of the plant yesterday. Today was detail work. Precision was important for botanical illustrations.
The door opened and Melanie stuck her head in. She wore the Ravenswood hoodie, and probably under that the Ravenswood Nursery t-shirt, jeans and running shoes. Melanie always wore those. Her short-cropped hair was silver, just like Gina’s. They were the same age, birthdays just a few weeks apart. Gina had only lived on the island a few weeks before they met and became friends. After Ewan died, they’d become fast friends. Melanie had saved her life, dragging her out of the house and back into the world.
“Oh hi, Gina. Have you seen Delia?”
“When I first got here. About an hour ago. She was heading that way,” Gina said, pointing.
“Okay, I’ll be taking a break in a while and come see you.”
“I’ll be here.”
Melanie disappeared and closed the door.
Renee came in with a troop of fifteen people.
“This is our tropical greenhouse,” she said. “Here are all the lovely things we just can’t live without here in the Northwest, but we have to keep them heated all winter in order to make them happy. Some of our tropicals have already been making their way outside.”
Renee was the Marketing Director for the business. Gina quite liked her, having been in marketing for a small retail chain in Seattle meant they spoke the same language. Still, Gina was surprised to see her out here giving a tour to Hort Heads. This was Delia’s domain. And if not Delia, then Karen, the nursery manager, or one of the more knowledgable staff. Plant geeks always had plant questions.
“And this is Gina Weatherby. She’s a famous botanical illustrator and artist who comes by now and again to paint. Her work is in great demand.”
“Good morning,” said Gina, waving and silently thanking Renee for the great promo.
“What are you working on?” asked Renee.
“I thought I’d try and capture this lovely Hibiscus while it’s in bloom. The flower colors are so beautiful.”
People gathered round as best they could and asked questions about painting, plant choices for illustrations and all sorts of things. Gina happily answered them. Renee looked slightly relieved.
Once Melanie stuck her head in. Renee glanced at her and shook her head. Melanie left.
Gina wondered what their communication meant.
The group moved on to another greenhouse. Gina had to admire Renee’s ability to calm herself, or partition her hurt away. After that argument, she wouldn’t have been able to do it.
She heard Max barking, which was strange. He rarely barked.
Her paint water was dirty again. She poured it out onto the gravel beneath the plant table. Then went to pour from her water bottle. It was empty. This was the fifth time she’d changed the water. Her bottle only held four water changes.
The closest place for water was the mist greenhouse. Gina took the bottle and went outside. She ducked under the yellow cord that meant ‘Do not go here — this is really, really private.’ It was meant to keep customers away from the more sensitive propagation greenhouses.
There were four greenhouses here, all heated, some more than others. Three were filled with what looked like twigs or the teensiest of plants. These were brand new babies. Most were barely a season old and it would be a year, or two, before they were salable.
Max was outside the fourth greenhouse, still barking and pawing at the door.
The fourth greenhouse was a combination of Delia’s secret stash of rare plants and the mist room. The mist room was separated from the rest of the greenhouse by a wall of plastic, and was almost continuously misted, providing the humidity needed to root cuttings of plants.
It was far from the other greenhouses, so there would be fewer people going in and out. The high humidity, and freedom from disease were important.
“What’s up buddy?” she asked, petting him. He kept barking frantically.
