“I’m Ms. Black,” I interjected, stepping forward. “And yeah, they upset me a lot.”
Ezra stepped closer, his tone demanding, “Who ordered the flowers?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Abby replied defensively, her eyes darting between us. “The customer didn’t really order the flowers as much as they ordered the delivery of the flowers.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“I mean the flowers weren’t my stock. I didn’t make the arrangements,” Abby explained, her voice rising slightly. “If something was wrong with them, it’s on the customer, not me.”
“And who was this customer?” Ezra reiterated, his patience thinning. “I need a name.”
“I didn’t exactly get a name,” Abby admitted, her shoulders slumping. “They made the order by phone.”
“Did they use a credit card?” I pressed. I always used a credit card whenever I called in orders, so it made sense that she would have to have a name.
Abby shook her head, her bun wobbling slightly. “The instructions were to drop off the flowers at five o’clock on the dot. I assumed that’s when you got off work or something, Ms. Black, and the customer paid in cash via an envelope left with the buckets of flowers in my alley this afternoon.”
The buckets. That must have been what he was doing in the memory—putting all the flowers together for the delivery, ensuring his emotions were tied to the flowers and not some random stranger’s that would spoil his plans for me.
“How much did he pay you?” Ezra asked, his tone steady but insistent.
Abby momentarily chewed on her lower lip. I suspected she was pondering how honest she should be. Finally, she admitted, “One thousand dollars.”
“Holy cow,” I hissed. “That’s a lot of money for a flower delivery.”
“I thought the same thing,” she confessed, her shoulders slumping. “But the economy is tough right now. I can’t turn down that kind of easy money.”
Ezra gave her a sympathetic nod. “I get that, Ms. Salinger.”
“Miss,” she corrected, her voice suddenly light and flirty. “I’m not married.”
“Good to know,” Ezra replied professionally. He glanced at me, and I rolled my eyes. Turning his attention back to Abby, he said, “I’m afraid I’m going to need the envelope and the cash if you still have it.”
“The cash is going to be a problem,” she said, her face tightening. “I used it to pay off one of my debts.”
Ezra looked unhappy. “I’m going to need the name of the debtor.”
Her expression soured. “Bellmore Parker.”
“The guy who owns Parker’s Landing and Lakeshore Resort?” Ezra asked, incredulous.
“He also owns this shop.” She gestured around the store, her eyes narrowing. “I was behind on rent, and he’d been dogging me hard for it.”
Ezra shook his head, a frown deepening his features. “How much do you owe him?”
She harrumphed, crossing her arms. “More than a thousand, but at least it got him off my butt for a few days.”
“We need to go check out the back where he dropped off the flowers,” Ezra told her.
“Be my guest.” She gestured to the back of the store. “The door is just past my office.”
“After you,” Ezra said.
She huffed her annoyance but complied.
Ezra and I followed her past the front counter and down a short hall to a large metal door with a lighted exit sign above the frame. The passage in the alley was wider than I had imagined, not like the narrow space we had behind Scents and Scentsability. Abby’s alley was spacious enough for a delivery vehicle to park and unload. The ground was marked with various tire tracks and a few potholes. A faint smell of damp earth and rotting vegetation lingered in the air, mixing with the hum of an industrial-sized air conditioner.
“Let’s start where the flowers were left,” Ezra suggested.
