“I don’t know anything about anything.” He shook his head, still looking shell-shocked. “Abby Salinger, my boss, took the order.” He frowned. “You’ll have to ask her.”
I didn’t know the owner of the florist. I’d ordered flowers for delivery over the years for funerals and such, but I’d never been to the shop. I’d made all my orders by phone with a credit card. “Is she still at the store?” I asked him.
“Should be,” he replied, his voice shaky. “The shop closes to customers at four, but Abby sometimes stays late making floral arrangements for the next day.”
The phone number for the florist was on the side of the van. I punched in the number and waited as it rang three times before going to voicemail.
“You’ve reached Garden Cove Floral. Our normal business hours are nine to four, Monday through Friday, and Saturdays eleven to four. We are closed on Sunday. If you’ve reached us outside of business hours and would like to make an order, go to our website and schedule an order online. Otherwise, please call back during regular business hours.”
I hung up, frustration bubbling inside me. “That was useless.”
Gilly picked the flowers and vase up from the floor. “No answer?” she asked.
“Just store hours,” I sighed.
Ari returned from the kitchen with a roll of paper towels, dabbing at the wet spots on the carpet.
“She still might be there,” Brady interjected. “She ignores the main phone after hours.”
I looked at the kid blandly. “That would’ve been good information to have a minute ago.”
Gilly glanced out the door and tapped my shoulder. “Patrol car.”
Officers Jeanna Treece and Levi Walters parked and exited the marked vehicle. I’d worked with them on several cases in my capacity as a consultant, so they were both aware of my ability. Another police car pulled in behind them. When the two officers got out, Jeanna gave them orders to secure the delivery van.
“Am I in trouble?” Brady asked as they approached the house. His voice was tinged with fear.
I felt bad for the kid, but the threat of danger was too high to reassure him that everything would be okay.
As they strolled up the sidewalk, Jeanna waved at me. “Hey, Ms. Black. We have to quit meeting like this.”
I shook my head. “I’d love for this to be a social call.”
She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the delivery van. “Ezra says we need to tape off the van until the forensic team can get here and go over it.”
“Hey, no way,” Brady protested. “I still have deliveries to make.”
Levi Walters, a thin, young officer with jet-black hair and dark brown eyes, grunted at the kid. “Tough. Deliveries have been delayed.” He narrowed his gaze on Brady, his expression wary. “Anything you want to tell us before we search the van?”
“Nothing I can think of,” Brady replied, a worried crease lining his forehead.
I wasn’t sure what Ezra told the two officers, especially over the phone, but I doubted he mentioned my vision. Not over the phone. My suspicion was confirmed when Jeanna pulled out a notepad and pen and began questioning the delivery guy.
“All right, Brady. I need to ask you a few questions. First off, give me your full name and contact details.”
“Bradford Newsome,” he replied with a gulp. “Eight Seven Magnolia Court.”
“And your phone number?”
The young man winced, then prattled off the number with the area code. “I’m not a suspect, am I? I don’t even know what’s going on.”
Jeanna cast her gaze in my direction. I shrugged and then shook my head. Brady seemed too clueless to be the perpetrator, but he could be a good actor. And if not the person, he could be an accomplice. However, the fact that he’d delivered the order earlier than it had been scheduled seemed to clear him of any wrongdoing.
“Who placed the order for the flowers?” Jeanna asked.
“I don’t know,” he whined. “Like I told the lady,” he gestured at me, “my boss, Abby Salinger, took the order. You’ll have to ask her if you want any details.”
“The shop’s closed,” I told Jeanna. “I got an answering machine when I called a few minutes ago.”
