The Scented Cipher (A Nora Black Midlife Psychic Mystery Book 9)

Chapter 8

Garden Cove Floral was in the same shopping center as the local grocery store. The warm air outside carried the scent of nearby restaurants on a gentle breeze. Abby Salinger met us at the front door, smiling politely but guardedly, as she let us in.

The store was filled with vibrant plants and intricate floral arrangements. Two refrigerators hummed quietly, showcasing various bouquets. The fresh aroma of stems, leaves, and clippings was invigorating. I was instantly hit with a few memory visions, but none related to the bomber.

Abby appeared to be in her mid-thirties. She was tall and thin with dark brown hair, pulled up into a neat bun. She wore jeans, a white top, and a floral apron that added a touch of charm to her practical outfit.

“What in the world did Brady do now?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow. “This isn’t about his pot, is it? I told him if he brought that crap to work one more time, he was fired.”

“This isn’t about Brady,” Ezra said firmly, displaying his badge. “We need to know about an order you took that was sent to Nora Black. Eight bouquets of Starfighter lilies.”

“Oh, those.” Abby’s hand moved to her neck, her fingers brushing her skin as if to ward off the nervous energy radiating from her. “That was a special order.”

Ezra crossed his arms over his chest, his expression gruff and unyielding. “Just how special was this order?”

“What’s the big deal?” Abby asked, her voice tinged with confusion. “Was Ms. Black upset about the lilies?”

“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.

Abby pointed to a spot near the shop’s back door. “Just over there. Eight buckets, and the flowers were already trimmed, wrapped, and in vases.”

We walked over to the area, and I knelt down, running my fingers lightly over the ground. The concrete was cold and rough, but there were faint scuff marks and a few crushed petals. My heart raced as I tried to focus, hoping to trigger another vision.

“Anything?” Ezra asked, watching me closely.

I shook my head, frustrated. “Nothing. It’s like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands.”

Ezra nodded and began to inspect the surroundings more thoroughly. He moved a few boxes aside, checking for anything unusual. I followed his lead, examining the trash bins and the corners where the shadows were deepest. A sudden chill ran down my spine, and I turned quickly, half-expecting to see someone watching us.

“What is it?” Ezra’s voice was tense, his hand instinctively reaching for the small of his back where he kept his gun.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just a feeling.”

He gave me a reassuring nod and continued his search. I noticed something glinting in the low light as I moved closer to the wall. I bent down and picked up a small, metallic object, carefully picking it up from the edges so that I wouldn’t smudge the surface. It was a Susan B. Anthony dollar.

“Ezra, look at this,” I said, holding it up for him to see.

He came over and took the coin from me, holding it on the edge as well, as he inspected it closely. He took a plastic bag from his pocket and dropped the dollar inside. “It might be nothing, but it won’t hurt to get fingerprints.”

Ezra looked around the alley, his jaw flexing as he chewed his thoughts. “We need to find out who this guy is and why he’s targeting you. I don’t think we’re going to find the answers here.”

I nodded, feeling a surge of resolve. “All we can do is try. There has to be more clues here.” I felt desperately responsible. “We can’t give up.”

Ezra shook his head. “We’re not giving up.”

We moved to the tire tracks next, examining them closely. Ezra crouched down, running his fingers along the indentations. “These tracks look fresh. It could be from the vehicle he used.”

I looked around, noticing a security camera mounted on the corner of the building adjacent to the flower shop. “Hey, look, there’s a camera,” I told Ezra. “Do you think it might have caught something?”

He followed my gaze and stood up, a spark of hope in his eyes. “It’s worth checking out. If the footage is recent, we might get a clear view of the vehicle and even the driver.”

“That camera doesn’t work,” Abby said. “Someone cut the line last week, and Mr. Parker hasn’t gotten anyone out here to fix it.”

Well, crap. “That’s a dead end.”

“We know more than we did, but less than we need to,” Ezra said. “What about the envelope?” he asked Abby.

“Sorry,” she said. “Like the money, it’s gone. I threw it away this afternoon before the trash pick-up today. It’s sitting in the city landfill right now.”

“Double crap,” I said. I met Ezra’s gaze. “Can we go to the library? Maybe there’s something there. Something I can see.”

“See...” Abby’s face lit up. “Say, are you that lady from the paper? The one who sees the future and gets in people’s heads?”

“No,” I replied. “Not me. No future foresight and no head seeing.” Though if I had those particular abilities, it would’ve made finding this guy much easier.

“No,” Abby countered. “The letter said Nora Black. That’s you.”

“Oh, lord.” I shook my head. “Ezra, time to go.”

He gave me a tight smile. “Yep.” He turned to Abby. “Come down to the station tomorrow and fill out a witness statement.”

She flashed him with a heated look. “What am I supposed to have witnessed?”

“Just give a statement about the flowers and how the order was made,” he told her. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Why don’t you give me your number?” she asked him. “If I remember anything new, I’ll call you. Or maybe I’ll call you just because.”

Ezra shook his head. “I think we’re good. If you need to talk to me, you can call the station.”

It was petty, but I internally squealed with delight at her forlorn and rejected expression. As we walked back through the shop and out to the front parking lot, I gave Ezra a nudge with my shoulder.

He grinned. “You okay with how I handled that?”

“Absolutely.” I gave him another nudge. “It was kind of hot.”

“Kind of?” He raised his brows.

I barked a laugh. “What? You want a cookie?”

“Only if they’re your cookies.” Ezra’s phone rang before I could respond. “Detective Holden,” he said when he answered. “What you got for me?” After several grunts and uh-huhs, he finally said, “You couldn’t find anything?” He paused as the person on the other side of the call spoke again. “Okay, good idea. Head over there and check it out but leave a patrol car outside the library tonight. Don’t let anyone back inside. Not until tomorrow, just in case.”

“No bomb at the library?” I asked when he disconnected the call.

“No bomb,” he confirmed. “A lot of angry families, though.”

I grimaced. “This is going to be a tough one to explain.”

“It would’ve been tougher explaining mass casualties if there had been a bomb and we’d done nothing.”

“Good point,” I told him. Gah. My guilt meter rose. I’d ruined an entire event because I couldn’t figure out the clues in my vision. “What do we do now? Should we see if Bellmore Parker still has the cash?” I was grasping at straws now.

“I’m not sure how that will lead us to the suspect.” Parker sighed. “Why don’t I take you home?”

“What about you?”

“Reese suggested a used bookstore, Good Time’s Book Nook.”

“I’ve heard of that place,” I said. “It’s not in town.” The Book Nook was out past the resorts in a building that used to be a square dance barn. It had been a swap shop for a while and a flea market before this latest venture. “Do they have something going on tonight?”

“Apparently, they’re having an auction,” Ezra said.

Adrenaline sped my pulse.

“You think of something?” he asked.

“The EZ Reader clue. He said he hoped I was a speed reader. Auctioneers talk with a lot of speed...” I shook my head. “It’s dumb. I’m grasping for a connection.”

“It’s something.” He opened the car door for me. “You want to come along?”

I raised my brows at him. “You know I do.” I’d go stir-crazy at home. Besides, the bomber might be methodical with the memories he had revealed to me, but he couldn’t guard against all his memories. He’d make a mistake, and when he did, we would catch him.