The Florist

Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me

            The car ride was disturbingly quiet along the drive to Mel’s house. Internally, he was conflicted. Even though Capri’s beauty caught his interest, he was less than pleased about sharing his personal space with a pushy stranger. She felt just as uneasy but tried to place her anxiety on the backburner in the interest of their common goal: finding The Florist and bringing him to justice.

            “So, Detective. It looks like we’re going to be stuck with each other for a little while. Maybe we should, oh I don’t know, talk,” she smiled tauntingly. “Get to know each other a little better.”

            “Uh, Miss Winters, this is not a slumber party. This is a specialized assignment …”

            “I’m aware of that.”

            “… and quite frankly, a courtesy on the captain’s part.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “As much as I appreciate your bravery, you have no idea what you’re doin’.”

            “Your captain seemed to think otherwise after I listed my qualifications …”

            “After you badgered him as you did me in order to see him in the first place.”

            Capri let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, don’t you just blow hot and cold? What happened to the compassionate officer that said it was okay for me to express my feelings?”

            “Uh, I told you it was okay to cry because someone you knew was killed, not to use your influential abilities to convince the captain to let you work on our case!”

            “Influential abilities?” she giggled. “You make me sound like some sort of enchantress.”

            “I’m tempted to use the term femme fatale.”

            “Will you always be this pleasant or do you lighten up at some point?”

            “I don’t think you understand what’s at stake here,” he stressed before pulling the car over to the side of the road and turning to face her. “This is not a joke. The Florist is a madman, brazenly taking lives without cause or concern of being caught.”

            “Well, he’s been on a killing spree for ten years and y’all haven’t retrieved so much as a unique identifying mark. I don’t think that would give anybody much cause for concern.”

            “Damn it! This is a life or death situation, not a time to play cops and robbers!”

            “I know that which is why I insisted on being part of this team! I want that incorrigible bastard more than any of you ever could, not because I want to play cops and robbers, but because I’ve endured the most. I get it, okay? You don’t want my assistance, but that’s a personal problem I don’t have the time or patience to help you with. Now I strongly suggest you pull yourself together, so we can place his ass behind bars! Can you do that?”

            Mel sat motionless, his face vacant from the shock of how forceful she was. Capri found his stillness hard to read but rolled her eyes in exhaustion when he turned back to the front of the car. Since he made a comment on her ability to influence others, she silently pondered if she could use those powers on him for a milder request.

            “Before we pull off, is there a way I’d be able to grab some clothes from my apartment?”

            “You heard the captain. Your life is more important than material things.”

            “Well unless you’d like me to run around your house naked, it would be nice if I had some clothes to wear!”

            Mel privately entertained the idea. Her body guaranteed a promise that the sight of her curves without interruption would be a ravenous feast he would hurriedly devour, had the events of his past not made him so hesitant with logic. If it weren’t for Capri calling him back to the present, he would have continued to be lost in his thoughts.

            “It’s an active crime scene, Miss Winters. We can’t allow any of the evidence to be tampered with.”

            “So now what, they’re going to clean my room out since that’s where she was killed?”

            “What?” Mel voiced turning toward her. “What are you talking about? You mean that wasn’t her room?”

            “No, it was mine. My room that she was lying in, my bed that she was strangled against.”

            “How did you know …?”

            “Her eyes protruding out of her head, the marks on her neck,” she analyzed. “I know how to read a crime scene, Detective.”

            “Do you have any idea why she would’ve been in your room? Did y’all share clothes or something?”

            “Of course we shared clothes; we’re girls! But she was already dressed for work when I left. I don’t know why she was in there.”

            Mel began to wonder the same thing. As he leaned back to collect his thoughts, his rearview mirror displayed Capri engrossed in hers. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Miss Winters?”

            “How did you guys find her? I mean, our apartment building isn’t exactly known for random police visits.”

            “One of your neighbors called it in. Said they heard loud voices. They recognized Miss Woodruff but not the guy and were concerned it was a violent lovers’ quarrel.”

            “Lovers’ quarrel? Did they get a good look at the guy?”

            “Good enough. Do you know if Miss Woodruff had a boyfriend?”

            “No.”

            “I thought … you said you two were close. Why wouldn’t you know if ...?”

            “I mean if Nia had a boyfriend, I would’ve been the first to know about him, and she didn’t have one. Nia was a serial dater. She always said having a boyfriend was like having a job and, between the store and school, she had enough work.”

            “Do you think your boyfriend would’ve circled back to visit her?”

            “He’s my ex-boyfriend and no. There’s no reason to suspect him.”

            “And why is that?”

            “Vasu’s a jackass, not a murderer.”

            “Are you sure about that?”

            “Yes. Him and Nia were good friends, party buddies.”

            “Maybe he wanted more from the party, and when she turned him down, he didn’t take it well.”

            She glared at him dubiously. “Now I see why y’all haven’t made any progress on this case. Detective, this killer has been on the loose for the past ten years and has nineteen victims under his belt. You’re telling me that Vasu knows all those people?”

            “There is a possibility that the killings are random, Miss Winters. We don’t have anything that states otherwise.”

“Are you serious right now? The bastard leaves a calling card with all his victims!”

            “And? So did the Zodiac killer. So did the Son of Sam. So did the D.C. Sniper!”

            “Those were addressed to the police and the media as a means to taunt them or evoke fear in the public. The poems The Florist writes are like … twisted valentines; they’re specifically addressed to the victims even though they’re dead and can’t read them. This is personal.”

            “How do you figure that?”

            “For your innocence and grace, there will never be a place. Elegant poison, and blind choices, will drain the color from your face. That doesn’t sound personal to you?”

            He sighed. “Your mother’s poem. She had a yellow flower with her … honeysuckle.”

            Capri shook her head. “Yellow Jasmine. It’s poisonous, fatal and a lot of children find out the hard way that it’s not honeysuckle when they suck the nectar.”

            “Does it make you go blind?”

            “Blind?”

            “The poem. Blind choices. You said the poems talk about the flowers and how the victims died.”

            “Yellow Jasmine means elegance and grace. The line about poison, color draining from her face …”

            “But the poison didn’t kill your mother; the gunshot wound did.”

            “Yeah, I know. I guess the poison didn’t take or something. I don’t know.”

            “What do you mean you don’t know? The whole purpose of you being added to this case is because you’re supposed to know things we don’t know. Who’re we supposed to call for the stuff you don’t know?”

            “Look, I do know about the connection between the poems, the flowers and the cause of death. But there’s also something else, something in the poems that I can’t put my finger on. I think it has to do with the reasons behind the killings.”

            “You mean how he chooses his victims,” he said as she nodded.

            “I don’t know why the poem left on my father talks about selfishness and being ungrateful, or why the one left with my mother mentions blind choices. I was kind of hoping that with your help, we could look at the other files and c***k the code.”

            “You honestly think that The Florist knew all of his victims?”

            “If the other poems are just as personal as the ones left with my parents, I think it’s something to consider.”

            “But if that were the case, that would mean there is a common denominator with the victims, the killer himself.”

            “Exactly.”

                                                                                                §

            Mel’s residence sat in the middle of Nolan’s sister city, New Orleans, and had to be no less than thirty minutes away from the police station. In her mind, Capri wondered why he didn’t chose to work a little closer to home, but the question quickly faded from her mind upon walking in. She was pleasantly surprised by how immaculate it was.

            “Do you have a maid or does your mom stop by often?”

            He couldn’t help but chuckle at her gruffness. “My folks would turn in their graves if I kept a messy house.”

            “Oh. I’m sorry. If I had known …”

            “It’s okay.”

            “How’d they pass?”

            “My dad died in the line of duty and my mama passed from a battle with cancer.”

            “Your dad was a detective too?”

            “Police officer. He didn’t care much for investigations, just patrol.”

            “The definition of protect and serve, huh?”

            “Pretty much. I’ll, uh, bring back as many files as I can when I get off. I’d give you an assignment in the meantime but I’m sure you might need a minute to collect yourself after today’s … events, so just make yourself comfortable and ...”

            “How old were you when you lost your parents?” Capri interrupted desolately.

            “Uh, eighteen with my mom, nineteen with my dad.”

            “They died so close together,” she gasped.

            “No closer than yours, Miss Winters.”

            “That feeling of losing them, does it still bother you?”

            “Of course. No one can ever fill that void, but you learn to live for them. It brings me comfort thinking that they’d want it that way.”

            “Did you ever find out who killed your father?”

            “It was a motivating factor in my joining the force. Much like you, I wanted vengeance … but I knew if I acted on that impulse, my dad would be disappointed in me.”

            “So you brought him to justice?”

            “Not exactly. Police went looking for him, you know, to avenge their own. By the time they found him, he was murdered in a botched armed robbery. Karma is something else man. That’s why I just try to live as right as I can.”

            “Easier said than done.”

            “Not for you. You said you dedicated your life to finding The Florist. How have you been doing that? You went to school. You studied every major that had to do with this particular case, including the killer, and now look at you. You’ve managed to fight your way into working with trained officers to help solve this case. We’re … quite similar, you and me.”

            “Hmm. I don’t recall you telling that to Captain Grayson,” she smirked, encouraging him to show his own.

            “You didn’t need my help gettin’ what you wanted.”

            “Well, I’m under your roof working a case with you exclusively. Obviously, I do need your help.”

            “No more than I need yours, Miss Winters.”

            “Uh, Detective,” she began bashfully. “Is it safe to say that, with the current circumstances, we can leave the formalities at the door? Call me Capri.”

            He chuckled at her ability to take command again. “And you can call me Mel.”

            “Nice to meet you, Mel.”

            They greeted each other with a friendly handshake while examining the other’s mannerisms. She stared into his gentle eyes as his palm engulfed hers, finding comfort in how protective he seemed to be while Mel made every effort not to jump in reaction to the soft touch of her skin. He had been married to the job for some time and hadn’t shared his personal space for longer than that, but he couldn’t deny a surge of temptation that urged him to raise her delicate hand to his fevered lips … or the burning desire to press them against her provoking pout. He shook off the thought quickly taking a step back.

            “If you need to get a hold of me …”

            “Call 911?” she teased.

            He laughed before asking for her cell phone. As he entered his work number and direct line, she inhaled another hint of his cologne. It was spicier than the last but just as tantalizing. She walked with him to the door.

            “Until we see each other again, Miss Winters.”

            “Capri, remember?”

            He nodded. “Capri.”

                                                                                           §

            The intensity of Capri’s eyes burned in Mel’s mind. Admittedly, he had an extra pep in his step walking back into the police station. Ward was the first to address him.

            “Where the hell have you been? I was looking all over for you!”

            “I had some errands to run.”

            “Yeah, yeah.”

            “Anything from the victim’s mother?”

            He shook his head. “Not unless her crying means anything. She’s been in the Bahamas for the past week soaking up some sun at a work convention.”

            “Well if her job sends her to the islands for a meeting, we’re in the wrong business,” Mel scoffed. “Let’s go talk to Franco and see what he could dig up.”

                                                                                        §

            The precinct was lucky to have someone like Ethan Franco on duty. Not only did he have the most experience on The Florist case, but he possessed more ambition than anyone else working it. Ten years of watching a criminal get away with bloody, or clean, murder was as much a source of motivation as it was a cause of irritation. Franco saw the two detectives coming from a mile away.

            “Well, if it isn’t Perrin and Ward! What took you?”

            “Questioning the victim’s smart-alecky roommate and her whiny mother,” Ward complained as Mel was beginning to grow weary of his partner’s foul attitude.

            “Does the name Capri Winters ring a bell?”

            Franco took a moment to pause. “Capri Summer Winters?”

            “Autumn, but close enough.”

            “Yeah, she was the kid of some Florist victims. The first two if I remember correctly. She called it in. Nice kid.”

            “She’s not a kid anymore, Franco. She’s 23, ‘bout to graduate college and the roommate of the latest victim.”

            “No kiddin’.”

            “That chick’s parents were killed by The Florist too?” Ward recapped excitedly. “We gotta get her in protective custody ASAP!”

            “Captain took care of that already.”

            “Poor kid,” Franco said sadly. “First her parents were murdered, now her friend. Let me guess, she was the one who passed out at the crime scene earlier.”

            “Bingo, which means if she’s on The Florist’s list of targets, we’ve finally got a lead.”

            “Damn the list! What if she’s the only target?” Ward proposed. “We’re talking about three people connected to her and they’re all dead. You think that’s a coincidence?”

            “So he kills sixteen other people not related to her just to get her attention?” Franco challenged. “Not likely there, Elmo.”

            “Hey! Cool it with that, all right? I prefer Ward.”

            “I’d prefer it too if everybody wanted to tickle me when I told them my first name.”

            Mel tried to hold back his laughter. “You find anything on your end?”

            “The note’s pretty cut and dry, too cut and dry. Not The Florist’s style. See for yourself.”

            Mel took the hint, and silently read: Roses are red, Violets are blue, soon these flowers will be as dead as you. He frowned with disappointment.

            “See what I mean? Different format, different tone, and I compared it to the note left with the victims from last year. Guess what? It’s different handwriting too.”

            “What the hell does this mean?” Ward exclaimed. “The Florist is The Florists?”

            “I doubt that,” Franco shut down. “The writing and syntax has been the same for ten years. Now he decides to switch it up? It doesn’t make sense.”

            “What if he’s trying to throw us off his scent? Maybe we got too close and he’s running scared.”

            “Or maybe the note’s a fake,” Mel countered. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. We have to look at the facts. We’ve got another corpse and we still don’t know who this guy is. Something has to give.”

                                                                                            §

            Capri’s phone had been ringing off the hook. A call from Vasu was immediately ignored. Tristeza called but she wasn’t ready to have that conversation, especially since the captain said she wouldn’t be able to speak with her until after the investigation was over. She had to lay low from everyone she knew until further notice.

            Since Mel neglected to give her a tour of his single-story home, Capri took it upon herself to do a walkthrough before making herself comfortable in his sizeable bedroom. Her body sunk into the mattress like it was tailor-made to fit her body. In no time, she slipped into a deep sleep.

                                                                                        §

            Mel doubted that his secret partner’s analysis was wrong, but he couldn’t ignore the facts. The pieces of evidence left with Nia were outstandingly different from that of the previous victims. Although he was anxious to get the files to Capri, he was reluctant to show her Nia’s. She was so eager to prove her theory of the killer’s decoded pattern. He hated the idea of her dazzling eyes dulling with defeat at the existence of a sudden obscurity.

            “Say, man,” Ward called. “You look like you’re deep in thought. What’s on your mind?”

            “Nothing. I’m just tired. Frustrated. Just when I thought we were one step closer to catching this guy, he throws us for another loop. We don’t need any more complication in this damn case. We need a break!”

            “Are you sure you’re tired because you sound pretty amped up.”

            A light laugh left Mel’s throat as he tried to calm himself down. “Yeah, man. I’m about to get out of here. See you tomorrow?”

            “Bright and early.”

            “You might be bright, but you won’t be early. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

            “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mouthed on his way out.

            Mel was relieved to see him leave. Earlier in the day, Captain Grayson notified him that he left a pile of The Florist’s murder files in his desk drawer. Mel placed the files in a bag and called it a night.

                                                                                        §

            Even though Mel had food in the house, he opted to pick something up from a local pizza parlor. I hope she’s not lactose intolerant, he thought.

            The harsh silence was unsettling when he walked in. Alarmed, he set the food down gently on a nearby table and drew his gun. He checked every room in the house to no avail leaving the bedroom last. Slowly, he cracked the door, turned on the light and aimed to fire, but the sight of Capri peacefully lying in his bed melted his heart. If it weren’t for her snoring, he wouldn’t have known she was asleep. He closed the door and proceeded to eat dinner … alone.

                                                                                        §

             Capri could see her mother’s face and feel the warmth of her father’s arms. She could hear another familiar voice calling out to her, one that she had never expected to hear again but found joy in the occurrence all the same. Nia.

            “Hurry up, Pri, before you miss the graduation ceremony!”

            Nolan University’s quad was covered with decorative chairs, balloons, and the flowers that were indigenous to the campus. After being introduced as the commencement speaker for her class, Capri sprung up from her seat to applause and incessant cheers. She could feel the heat of the sun on her cap and gown as she timidly walked to the stage. A deep breath and supplementary sigh came before she parted her lips to say her speech … but no words came out. Just as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, a masked figure cloaked in dark red garb floated toward her with an arm full of burgundy-colored flowers. One traveled through the air in her direction, and as she caught it in gratitude, her stomach began to curdle with fear after realizing that the petals were coated in blood. When she returned her glance to the audience, panic filled her chest at the sight of them numbly slouched in their chairs.

            “Turn around,” a mysterious voice ordered as she slowly followed suit.

            The soreness in her throat was the only hint to her screaming; she couldn’t hear herself, but she could clearly see that the deans were dead as doornails as well, and the responsible party stood a few inches away from her face.

            Capri gasped herself awake. Her clothes were drenched in sweat. “It was just a nightmare,” she panted in relief. “Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Snap out of it, Capri.”

            Once the pace of her breath slowed to a normal tempo, she noticed an alluring scent of food and followed her nose to the living room where Mel sat with a plate in hand on the couch.

            “I was hoping you wouldn’t miss dinner,” he smiled.

            “What do you have there?”

            “Pizza, two kinds: extra cheese and sausage. I already dug in a bit.”

            “Huh. What time is it?”

            “About 8:00.”

            “Really? I’m so sorry, Mel. I didn’t mean to tie up your room. I only wanted to take a nap, but I guess I was a little more tired than I thought.”

            “It’s all right. Come’re,” he invited patting the cushion next to him. “Have a seat, get some food in your stomach.”

            “Umm, shouldn’t we eat at the table? Keep from makin’ a mess?”

            He scoffed. “You’re kinda used to being in charge, aren’t you?”‘

            “I just like to enforce common sense is all. Here, I’ll help.”

            Capri took his plate and placed it on the dining room table before rushing to move the pizza boxes to the kitchen counter. When Mel got up from the couch to join her, he remembered to mention the files he brought.

            “Well, let’s see them!”

            “Uh, I think you should eat first.”

            “You’ve gotta be kiddin’. I can eat and work. Besides, the sooner we find The Florist, the sooner he’ll be off the streets. You’ll just have to show everything to me so I don’t stain the papers with all this grease. And please keep the pictures of dead bodies to yourself. I’d rather not throw up on your lovely floor.”

            “Thanks for the tip. What do you want to start with?”

            “Start with the basics: name, date of murder, flower and poem.”

            “That’s it? You don’t want to know their D.O.B., race …”

            “You said you guys looked into that already and found no direct connection, right? Why waste time verifyin’ your work? I’d like to think y’all have been doing your job. Besides, if my theory is right, you have all the information you need. You just don’t know what to do with it yet. Let’s get started.”