The Flower Girl

Chapter One-2

She missed Mama dreadfully. It had been a year since she had died. Camilla remembered that day clearly. Just after Camilla had started working at the nursery, her father had come home. He’d been popping in and out of their lives for years. Mama said he was sick in the head.

But she still loved him. He’d told Mama he had a job and money. He’d said she wouldn’t have to work at the bakery any more. Then, he’d taken her out on a drive and they’d never come back.

The police told Camilla he had killed Mama in the forest. They’d found him wandering in the trees, tearing his clothes and talking to himself. Afterwards, they’d locked him up in a safe place so he’d never come back to hurt her the way he had hurt Mama. But that didn’t bring Mama back.

Nonetheless, Camilla was reasonably happy. She had her cousins and her job and a place of her own. Maybe someday, she’d get a cat. Camilla liked cats. They weren’t noisy like dogs. They were graceful and neat. They didn’t chase cars or try to bite the paper boy.

A cat would be just the thing someday. Her cousins would approve of a cat. A cat would never bark at them when they came over for a visit.

She became so engrossed by the idea of a cat that she spent the rest of the afternoon on the patio chair, trying to think of a name for the unknown pet. Finally, it was between Midnight, if it was a black cat, and Goldie, if it was a yellow cat.

She sat in her trance until her cousins arrived carrying what was left of a pepperoni pizza. “Here: Tamara said. “You can have this for supper.”

They stayed to chat for a while. Camilla told the story about the stranger and how he’d made fun of her. The girls didn’t stay long after that. This was fine with Camilla since she was sleepy.

Tamera and Evie had come on the bus. Now they borrowed Camilla’s car for an outing. Tamara drove while Evie brushed out her thick copper curls. They were on the way to the Renaissance Club on Congress Avenue. They hadn’t told Camilla they were going. She wouldn’t want them to go. Camilla was peaceable and she was sweet. She would never stick up for herself. Nonetheless, she was their cousin and they weren’t about to let anyone abuse her without hearing from them.

“Camilla wouldn’t have to work at that boring job if she didn’t want to,” Evie said. "We could support her."

Evie made good money as a hacker. She’d hacked into international business accounts as well as several American companies. She never signed in with her laptop. She used a remote computer to complete the transactions. And she never took too much. Just a little here and there to add to their Swiss account. They would retire in luxury someday and they’d take Camilla along.

“She’s happy now, though,” Tamara said.

“I know. I can’t understand what she likes about working at that dirty place, but if it makes her happy, I’m glad,” Evie said.

“Me, too. The lady’s nice to her.”

“What about the husband?” Evie asked.

Tamara frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think she knows what to make of him.” She shook her head. “As long as she’s happy...”

“Yeah, as long as she’s happy...”

They drove to the Renaissance Club and parked. Though it was a Monday night, there was a decent crowd. Tamara whispered to Evie, “That has to be Charles over at the bar. He looks just like Camilla described him.

They took a table in the corner where they could keep an eye on him. Evie ordered their drinks.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

“We wait until he leaves and follow him to his car. Then we tell him off.”

“Good plan. He can’t treat our Camilla like that.”

They sipped their drinks and watched Charles. It amused them to see him fail twice to pick up a girl. No doubt he told them all about his new house and the gorgeous job he was doing on landscaping.

When he left, they followed him outside. Evie hung back, while Tamara, the more aggressive, followed close behind him. He didn’t notice her until he reached his car to unlock the door.

“You came after all,” he said.

Tamara smiled. She knew that, in the dark, he saw only the vague family resemblance. “Nope. My name’s Tamara. And this is the last time you’ll make fun of my cousin.”

She pulled a small caliber handgun from her purse.

Charles pressed himself against the car, holding up his hands in a plea. “I didn’t make fun...” Before he could finish, Tamara pulled the trigger, placing a bullet neatly into his heart.

He slid down the car to leave a dark puddle on the already darkened asphalt. Evie walked up beside Tamara. “You promised,” she hissed.

“Did not. Besides, he deserved it.”

“You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Nobody will ever know. Help me get his wallet. We’ll keep the cash and toss the identification.”

Evie glanced about the deserted lot. “Okay, but let’s hurry.”

They extracted his wallet and took it with them.

Tamara grinned as they drove away from the club. She enjoyed killing. Since the urge had come over her six months ago, she tried to limit herself to one killing a month. Yet, like any other addiction, it was hard not to give in more often. She blamed it on the fact that there were no support groups to help her. Overeaters had Overeaters Anonymous and alcoholics had Alcoholics Anonymous. Nowhere did she know of a Killers Anonymous. Who would help her stop without putting her in jail?

She would simply have to do her best to control it. Although she’d already had her quota for the last two months, this one couldn’t be helped. Someone had to avenge Camilla’s feelings. Who better than her cousin?

Evie pulled off the road into a darkened parking lot.

“What are you doing?” Tamara asked.

“There’s a dumpster at the back of this school. We can get rid of the wallet.”

“Okay. I’ve already gone through it. He had almost a hundred in cash.”

“Hey, that’s pretty good. Did you wipe off your prints?” Evie asked.

“Yep. I’m holding it by the edge of my shirt.”

“Hurry up and get rid of it. I don’t like having evidence in the car.”

Tamara jumped out and scurried to the dumpster. She scattered the contents of the wallet before securing it beneath some discarded cardboard. If they were lucky, it would never be found. Even if it was, there was nothing to link them to the crime.

They wouldn’t tell Camilla. There was no reason for her to know this, or that Tamara buried bodies in the garden center where Camilla worked. Until she ran out of room, it was the perfect hiding spot. No one ever went back there except for Camilla.

The sisters had a night on the town, spending the money at an upscale bar and dancing until early morning. And though they met no one sufficiently interesting to invite to a motel, they had a pleasant time.

...

Detective Marie Alvarez sat at the breakfast table, feeling drowsy. Her husband, Rick, patted her hand as he handed her a cup of coffee.

“You look beat. Tough night?”

“Yep.”

Marie hadn’t gotten home until nearly three o’clock that morning.

“There’s some weird stuff going down. We have a body with no ID in the parking lot of the Renaissance Club and we have a guy reporting his roommate missing.”.”

“Sure it’s not the same guy?”

Marie shook her head. “It’s not. We had the roommate take a look.”

“So, no leads at all?”

“Not so far.”

Rick leaned over the narrow breakfast table and kissed her forehead. “They’re lucky to have you. You’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“I better. I’m the new girl on the block. Gotta prove myself.”

Marie had made detective two months ago, just in time for the missing person. Now, they had a new case, one with an unidentified body. At least, she knew what she’d be spending the day doing.

Rick unfolded the Press-Register. “The story’s in the paper,” he said.

“What does it say?”

She stood and leaned over his shoulder.

“It’s about the dead guy at the Renaissance Club. It says nobody saw what happened.”

“We think the motive was robbery since his wallet was missing.”

“Those clubs can be dangerous. I guess I should quit going there when you’re not home,” Rick said.

Marie wrinkled her nose. “You were watching sci-fi movies. I saw them when I turned out the light.”

Rick grinned at her. “You can’t fool a good detective. Still, how do you know I wasn’t clubbing before I watched the movies?”

“You hate clubs. I can’t even drag you out dancing.”

“Good point.”

Marie stretched. “I’m going to shower and then head back to work. Maybe there’s been a breakthrough in the case.”

Rick scanned his petite wife and decided she wouldn’t eat unless he got her a bowl of cereal.

It sometimes seemed like she ran on sheer energy. So, in little ways, he tried to take care of her.

He still found it hard to believe he’d stolen her heart. He’d been a short, stocky catcher on the Jr. College baseball team when they met. She had green eyes and curly, golden hair that tended to frizz. He could hardly stop watching her from the first moment they met in their freshman English class.

It took him three months to get up the courage to ask her for a date. When she agreed, he’d been in denial for the rest of the day. Had she really said, “Yes”?

They’d hit it off, sharing interests in sci-fi and crime, guns and sports. He wasn’t surprised to find out she’d been a gymnast as a kid and she’d played softball on the high school team.

Maybe they’d have a team of their own someday he’d thought, even when the idea was premature. Little Alvarez children to play outfield and bases. He’d come from a family of seven children. Only one was a girl.

When Marie got onto the police force after two years of college, Rick went to a state university for his accounting degree. They’d worked it out and kept their romance alive.

They married after he graduated. That had been over a year now and Rick had never been happier. Marie was his life.

He glanced up to see her smiling at him.

She said, “Are you always going to spoil me like this? You know I would have left with a cup of coffee, if you hadn’t made me this bowl of cereal.”

“You’ll probably skip lunch.”

She took a bite. “Possibly. I’ll try to be home in time to cook you a fabulous dinner to tell you how much I love you.”

“You do that every day, just by being you.”

“You’re a good guy, Rick Alvarez. I’m lucky to have caught you.”

Rick gave her a kiss before grabbing his briefcase to head for work, thinking all the while that it was he who had caught her.

Marie ate the cereal, hardly tasting it as she mused about her day. She loved the challenge of detective work. Yet being new, she had pressure to prove herself. She’d set a goal of finding the identity of the Renaissance Club man today and she’d do all she could to reach it. She only hoped she’d manage it by five o’clock. It had been days since she’d cooked a real meal for Rick. Yet, he never complained.

Still, he must miss his mama’s cooking. She’d stayed home to cook and clean for a family of nine. She made the best enchiladas Marie had ever tasted. Maybe Rick would be happy with stewed chicken and dumplings, something he’d never tasted until he married Marie.

After breakfast, she showered, taking longer than she should have to let the warm fingers of water massage her spine. Five hours of sleep had left her groggy and she longed to crawl back under the covers. That wasn’t smart thinking for a professional.

“Pull yourself together, Alvarez. You’re going to lick this.”

She toweled off and dressed in her uniform. She put in contacts and added a touch of eye shadow. She frowned, studying her hair. In the humidity of the Alabama coast, she could never hope to have a sleek style. She combed in gel and pulled it back in a ponytail. At least it was out of her way.

She drove to work with her mind completely on the murder case. No fingerprints at the scene. No evidence on the body. Could it have been pre-meditated? If so, the first step was to identify the victim and find out if he had any enemies.

She pulled into the station lot and parked in one of the three detective spots. She was gratified to see that she was the first to arrive.

She let herself in the back door and grabbed a cup of coffee from the table in front of the secretary’s desk. The other officers insisted Miss Kent had been there a hundred years. Since she appeared to be in her early sixties, Marie doubted it had been quite that long.

“Any messages?” she asked.

“Dental records are ready on the new case.”

“Good. I’ll start checking with dentists and hope I get a fast match.”

She unlocked her office. She wasn’t used to seeing her name on the glass panel. Detective Alvarez. She would never get tired of looking at it.

She set the coffee on the worn, wooden desk and sank into her chair. Firing up her computer, she retrieved the dental records. The next step was to get into the Automated Dental Identification Center and search files of males. The only other thing she could do was to pray he’d been to a dentist.

She thought about the two recent cases while she waited for feedback. The man who was missing might be explained if the man moved without telling anyone where he was going. Perhaps he was living happily in another city. Yet her gut feeling said it was murder and that they were tied somehow, though she had no proof, as yet.

In less than ten minutes, she had a dental match for the Renaissance Club victim. His name was Charles Taylor. She called his dentist, who promised to fax over Taylor’s file.

In a before-lunch meeting with the chief of police, she and another detective went over the evidence. They decided Marie would go to the club in the afternoon and show Taylor’s picture around. An earlier interview revealed the bartender didn’t know the man. But maybe one of the other employees or customers would know something about him. It was worth a try.

The other case proved frustrating. She’d hoped to have it solved quickly, neatly wrapped, and delivered to the boss. Instead, it was going to take time and hard thinking. She’d checked motels and his last known residence. His mother lived in Birmingham, yet hadn’t seen him in over six months. His roommate said he’d mentioned a few friends. Unfortunately, none of them had any information that helped the investigation. So far, it was all a dead end. If they found his car, it would be a start. So far, even that hadn’t turned up. When Marie had made detective, she’d said she liked a challenge. She’d definitely gotten her wish.

On impulse, she decided to check a few street contacts on the way to the club. The best information sometimes came from the shadow people, as she called them. They were the homeless and bored, criminals just out of jail, and druggies that hung out on the streets.

No one knew anything, had seen anything, or recognized the men. Since they liked her, they would have told if they’d had any information. They offered sips from their bottles to make up for her disappointment. She declined with thanks.

Back in the car, she headed for the Renaissance Club. It was nearly four o’clock, the time when it opened. She’d hang around for a half-hour and talk to a few folks before heading back to work.

She showed her ID and entered. On this cloudy afternoon, it was dim inside. Only a handful of early customers lined the barstools and the staff was lean. The place reminded her of a flower blooming in slow motion. Its draw wasn’t evident until it was completely open. Though it was dull now, she knew this place had a reputation of hopping when it got closer to midnight.

She showed Taylor’s photo around the bar. No one knew the man or recalled him making any enemies the night before. A waitress giggled. “I was off last night, but I would have remembered if I’d seen him. That’s quite a hairdo. Who’s he supposed to be? Elvis?”

“He’s dead,” Marie replied in a matter of fact tone.”

The girl’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

After no luck at the club, Marie decided to ask Mark, another detective on the case, to come back that evening when the bar was busier. Perhaps someone who came later might know him.

She arrived back in the office, ready to pack up and go home. Even though she hadn’t any new clues, she knew a hundred percent more about Taylor than she’d known earlier in the day. At least now, she had a name.