Dahlias and Death

Lacey Pinkerton and the town of Port Danby are preparing for the annual Fourth of July celebration at Pickford Marina. Lacey's parents are coming to stay for the week. Lacey and her friends at the Port Danby Garden Club are excited to set up a fundraising booth at the festivities. But the patriotic celebration is cut short when one of the club members is found dead. While her trusted and handsome partner Detective Briggs is dealing with a personal issue, the unexpected return of his ex-wife, Lacey works hard to tamp down the disappointment and find the killer.

Kingston swooped down from the blue summer sky and landed on the shop roof. His long, black beak swung around like the arrow on a weather vane as he scanned the area for other crows. It seemed he was out of luck this morning. My phone rang as I parked my bike along the side of the building.

My mom always managed to catch me just as I was leaving from or arriving at work, even today when she and Dad were just hours away from their visit to Port Danby. "Hey, Mom, I just got to work. Are you guys getting packed?"

"Getting packed? We're already at the airport."

"Why? Your flight isn't for five hours." I swung my backpack, my traveling bike purse, as I liked to call it, off my shoulders and rummaged through the front pocket for my keys.

"Well, we didn't know how much time security would take. There's the whole taking your shoes off thing and making sure we're not carrying tiny bottles of liquid."

"If it's taking you five hours to pull off and put on your shoes, then we need to start looking for one of those special homes for you two."

Kingston cawed and dropped down to the sidewalk. He'd been hanging around humans more than birds and had somehow concluded it was more appropriate to walk into a building than fly.

"Oh shush, smarty pants," Mom's voice chirruped through the phone. It was surrounded by the usual airport clamor. "We like to make sure we're early in case they move the flight up."

Kingston's talons click-clacked on the shop floor as he marched toward his perch in the window.

"Mom, it doesn't work that direction. They don't suddenly say 'hey, you know what? The skies are clear and the pilot got here early so hop on the plane we're leaving'. They delay flights. They don't move them up." I flipped on the lights. The interior of my colorful, fragrant and, if I did say so myself, chicly designed flower shop came into view. "Hey, Mom, I've got to get the work day started. I'll see you guys this evening." I hoped that was my perfect segue to hanging up but then, it was Mom on the other side.

"Wait, Lacey, I called for a reason other than your sweet, lovable sarcasm," she said, her tone dripping with the stuff. "Now if Dad and I die in a huge ball of flames somewhere over the ocean—"

"You're not flying from another continent. No possibility of that unless the pilot decides to take the scenic route. Flying is very safe, Mom. You'll be fine." I walked into my tiny back office to put away my backpack and start my computer.

"Easy for you to say, you're not flying with the man who forgot to pack his gas pills."

My dad's annoyed tone seeped through from somewhere nearby. "That's right, Peggy, tell the whole airport about my gas pills."

I turned my face away and smothered a laugh.

"Mom, I've got to start my day. I'll see you soon. Looking forward. Have a safe flight." I tried for another hang up but without success.

"Yes, well if that isn't the case. Just remember the important papers are inside the metal cabinet in the hallway closet."

"Yes, got it. Love you. Bye." I hung up before she could recite all the old family recipes that might otherwise go up with her in the ball of flames. It seemed I was destined for an exhausting week.