Protection by Petunias: Madis Harrah Mysteries, #3

By Aubrey Elle

Rosie Tanner's retiring, and she wants to gift herself a masterpiece of petunias. Madis is more than willing to take on the task, hoping this elaborate display of annuals will win her a regional gardening contest. Only, on the first day of the big project, someone attempts to murder the sweet librarian in her very own backyard.

While the petunias are being planted, Madis vows to keep an eye on Rosie, but it's not so easy when no one can guess who the perpetrator is. Rosie begs her to find a confidential note that flew out of her hands when she was ambushed, and the threat Madis finds in the garden offers many questions and few answers.

Is someone out to sabotage Rosie's last project of her career? Will someone stoop to murder to get her job? Or will another peril bloom as secrets are exposed…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aubrey Elle
• Release date: May 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201743611

Book preview

Protection by Petunias

Disclaimer

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Other Books by Aubrey Elle

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 Aubrey Elle

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions

For Rosie

Chapter One

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Despite the bright sunshine warming my back as I knelt over the freshly tilled garden bed, a breeze brushed over me. The low temps of spring had long come and gone, but on this otherwise toasty early day of May, the wind warned of another storm approaching later.

"Wo—weee... Beth strode toward me, exaggerating a shudder as she carried another rack of annuals. That was a chilly one."

Jon followed after her, carrying one tray of red petunias in front of him in one hand. Another tray was wedged between his other arm and his hip. In his free hand, he brought a bag from Payton’s diner.

Lunch. Yay. Only an hour late. I’m improving on that, at least.

Plastic crinkled as he hurried, and I whined a mock sound of alarm, expecting the group of flowers to fall. Don’t drop them!

The teen jerked his head back to free his vision of his long hair and grinned. I wouldn’t dare. You didn’t leave any left at the store. This is it.

I nodded, accepting the cider-hued flowers most likely to plummet from his risky grip. I didn’t buy out the petunias they’d had left in stock for me. One Ms. Rose Marie Tanner—Rosie—had explicitly requested oodles of the annuals, though, and I aimed to please.

Wait. Beth held a tattooed arm out to Jon, halting him from lowering the petunias to the freshly mown lawn. Toby, my newest hire, a retired Marine, had tended to the grass just yesterday.

A smile eased across my lips. It was nice knowing I finally had an appropriate number of employees to handle the never-ending source of landscaping gigs I accepted. More than that, I was grateful I’d landed good employees.

Huh? Jon peered at Beth while he lowered my lunch to the ground.

Thanks, I said, taking it.

Beth consulted her phone, likely scrolling and looking at the pictures on it. She turned it around, showing me the screenshot of the gardens’ blueprint Rosie had approved. Yes, that was gardens, as in more than one. My bestie and bookkeeper, Rachel, owned the largest property in our small town. Her land was more to the outskirts of Payton, but this place here, Rosie’s home, was the original mayor’s estate on Main Street. Not as large and spacious as Rach’s mansion, but grand in a compact way within the hub of Payton proper.

Those go by the Japanese maples near the birdbath in the back, Beth said. Reds and orange go here on the east side.

I frowned, studying the dirt waiting to be filled. Hmm. I thought these magentas go here. Then again, I hadn’t looked at it since we started this morning.

We debated it for a moment, my chicken BLT going even colder as we stalled. In the end, Jon agreed that the tray in his left hand was supposed to go elsewhere, namely the backyard instead of the side we were at.

The teen sighed and looked in that direction with a wistful smirk.

Oh... Beth teased, playfully shoving at him. Go on. They’ve gotta be about done by now.

I smiled, not blaming him one bit. Having to come near the tail end of the senior citizens’ tea party wasn’t high on my list of favorite things to do either. If you got anywhere near that group of gabbing ladies, you were trapped—either for interrogation for new gossip or seeing if you’d heard the latest. Rosie hosted the monthly tea parties for the historical society—of which she was president, and when I’d spoken with her upon my arrival, she assured me of two things. One, that my crew and I wouldn’t be in the way, and two, she was so grateful this would be the very last tea party she’d ever host since her retirement from the library was just around the corner.

He sighed. Well, if my mom’s aunt is gone by now, maybe I’ll be able to escape.

I’d been going the hard way around the front of the house to get to the driveway, Beth said.

I gaped at them. That was a significantly longer route. Were they that eager to avoid the gossipers?

Me too, Jon said.

Oh, come on. They’re not that bad.

Beth quirked a brow at me and lowered her shades again as she moved to place the pots. Ha.

Jon smirked. Yeah, they’re...well, you know how they are.

I did. Small towns were notorious for gossip. There were no secrets. But for them to want to constantly stop Jon? A rocking and rolling teenager who worked for me? And Beth, a twentysomething introvert who spent her free time teaching yoga? What juicy news could they get from them? The last time I walked by, they were gabbing about prom coming up.

Can’t blame them, Jon said with a shrug. After you found Robbie’s body in the spring.

And Rachel’s house being vandalized, Beth added.

Don’t forget they still talk about you taking Wanda’s ring—

I narrowed my eyes at Jon. "I did not take that ring."

Accused though, Beth quipped.

Jeez. Here I’d been getting comfy with the idea that my business would go through this season without a hitch. Sure, springtime had been a bit tricky, but now, as we were heading into summer, I anticipated a problem-free bout of sunshine, weeding, and planting. Oh, come on. Surely, they were making my recent past more of a bigger deal than it really was.

Nope. No joke. Beth chuckled, squatting to place more petunias in position for planting. Every time I walked by, they asked if we’d come across any more corpses.

I stood, taking my gloves off and smacking them against my cargo pants. "For God’s sake. This is Payton. Corpses aren’t common around here."

Jon raised his brows at me. But...you found the last one.

What, are you saying everyone’s been saying we’re connected to all of that?

It’s just gotten tongues wagging more than usual, Beth explained.

Probably. It still irked me. Drama wasn’t welcome in my plot, and it bothered me to think of anyone harassing my workers for rumors and gossip.

Mrs. Welding asked if we had a ‘curse’ or something, finding all these crimes.

A curse. I snorted a laugh. The things people would think of when boredom struck.

Well, I’ll go grab the last flats then. There can’t be many more. I stuck my gloves in my cargo pocket, and I couldn’t miss Jon’s sigh of relief before he replied.

Nah. Just two more in your truck. They’ll go to the birdbath area too.

I nodded, taking the flat he’d brought by accident, and headed for the backyard. Pins and needles stabbed my calves as I walked. Good to get up and move anyway. Landscaping wasn’t a cushy job to sit around at, but that didn’t mean staying in one position for too long wouldn’t hurt. Even for a young thirtysomething like me.

The further I walked from the beds on the eastern side of the old house, I slipped in and out of the shade, chilled once again. That sunshine sure helped dispel the cold, but as I carried the misplaced petunias beneath a narrow grove of tall dogwoods, I shivered. Creamy white petals blanketed my path, and I focused my gaze down, admiring the contrast of the vivid green grass and the soft petals.

Or I tried to appreciate nature’s beauty underfoot. Someone slamming into me kind of ruined it.

Oh!

I fumbled the flat of petunias, doing a little acrobatics to keep the black plastic tray from tipping altogether.

I’m so sorry! the woman said, backing up in a blur of purple as she held her gloved hands out.

I’ve got it. Heck, I should have been looking where I was going, anyway. Then again, why was this tea partier walking on this side of the house? If she were leaving from the bistro tables set out on the back patio area, wouldn’t it make sense to amble on the sidewalk on the west side toward the street?

Close call, she said around giggles.

I smiled, sighing in relief that her knock into my shoulder didn’t lose the flowers Rosie insisted on in abundance. I still wasn’t sure her plans for an explosion of petunias would win her that coveted award in the Midwest Bloom magazine, but I’d do my best to make it happen.

The woman’s purple bonnet hung on to her head, a bit askew. From the derby-worthy hat atop her slightly graying hair to the tips of her eggplant-hued pumps, this lady was no different than the other old biddies I’d noticed at the tea party. Decked out to all ends with lace, frills, and such.

What are you doing here? she asked.

What was I doing? It wasn’t obvious? Sure, I might be too laid-back of a business owner to not require uniforms to identify my crew. But, this was Payton. My trucks were labeled with decals. And everyone knew everyone in town. Then again...I couldn’t put a name to this woman. Could it be the purple pomp was too much of a disguise?

Uh, I’m Madis... I raised the flowers slowly, prompting her to at least see my purpose.

Oh! She giggled suddenly. Loudly.

Was she nervous?

Madis. Right, with the landscaping.

We’ve got a smart one here. Yep.

I’m Georgette—Georgette Evan. Everyone calls me Gigi. My husband Paul grew up here, and we moved here from Boston a couple of years ago.

Paul Evan. It sounds kind of familiar? Probably someone younger than Mom and older than me—no one we’d personally remember.

Your mother talks about you at the diner all the time. You sure are the talk of the town lately.

I bit back a groan. Not this curse nonsense again.

She smiled and offered to shake my hand. Oh. Your hands are probably dirty there, huh? Pulling her hand back, she smiled harder. These are vintage silk gloves. Paul’s grandmother Suzanne’s.

Got it. Well, it was nice running into you. I patted my fingertips on the edge of the flat. Just spreading out the petunias for Rosie.

"Oh, they’ll be lovely. Sam Moony says Rosie’s trying to win the Bloom contest."

I tried to smile at the mention of one of my top critics. Good thing the local know-it-all garden master hadn’t been able to sway people from hiring me.

I nodded, easing away from her toward the back, but she gripped my sleeve. Yep, which means I really should get these flowers in.

Now?

Yes? I asked, pausing in my step.

Oh. Her frown dipped again.

I heard the tea party was wrapping up. Even if the women were still back there, Rosie assured me it wasn’t a problem to work in the background.

Yes. Yes, it was... I think Lila was still chatting with Rosie when I left. But...

Tilting my head, I waited for Gigi to explain. She didn’t. Instead, she peered back, glancing over her shoulder in the direction from where she’d come. When she faced me once more, her brow was lined, worry clear in her distracted gaze.

O...kay. I’ll keep out of their way. I shrugged.

Gigi nibbled on her lower lip and nodded. Yes. That’s nice. Well, I’ll be going then.

Where, exactly? She was taking a long way to get to where the cars were parked out front.

Not my business... I smiled once more and stepped away, enough to release her fingers on the sleeve of my Tom Petty tee. Nice seeing you.

I didn’t give her another chance to delay me. She was acting batty enough. Clear of the gorgeous dogwoods, I glanced at the sky. More and more clouds were encroaching. These annuals wouldn’t take long to get in the ground, but I fretted nonetheless. If the weatherman was off, and the rain came too soon...we’d have a muddy mess. And this was only the first step of the plan. We had more annuals ordered to be delivered yet.

Quickening my pace, I rounded the corner of the house.

Yikes. I’m going to have to talk to her about that wisteria. It’ll take over the porch if she lets it go without a pruning soon. Those daylilies sure look raggedy. Maybe I can talk her into something that won’t sprawl there. And these ornamental grasses aren’t—

With a laugh at myself, I ceased my habit of patrolling plants and focused on the patio area. White-painted tables and chairs stood vacant, the wrought-iron probably chilling with the tea partiers absent. Rosie stood there, though, reading a paper. Unlike her guests, she wore a simple gray shirt and denim skirt. The unbuttoned sides of her white sweater flapped in the wind as she frowned