Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)(55)

“You’re all right?” Joe asked.

“I’m fine,” she assured him.

“No recurrence of someone mysteriously breaking into the house?”

“None.” Against her better judgment, she’d mentioned the incidents to Joe a few days earlier.

“You’d tell me if there were?”

“Yes, of course!”

“There seems to be a lot going on in Colville. Maybe I should cancel Friday’s appointments and visit.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Susannah said. “I really am fine. Chrissie is, too.” They spoke for a few more minutes and then hung up with Joe promising to call that night.

Still feeling troubled, Susannah walked outside and into the garden her mother had loved. Even with the burden of packing, she tried to spend a little while tending it every day. Being in this lovely, quiet space usually calmed her, in the same way it had her mother. She wandered between the rows of blooming allium, which resembled giant purple dandelions with the heads growing four to five inches in diameter. The gladioli were in bloom, too, and the lilies, their scent perfuming the air. She sat on the stone bench near the small rose arbor and closed her eyes, raising her face to the sun.

When she got up to go inside, she noticed Rachel Henderson in her backyard with her cat in her arms. The tabby, named Mr. Bojangles, had free rein of Rachel’s yard and those adjacent to it. Even though Vivian had frequently complained about her neighbor, she’d never said a word against Mr. Bojangles. Mrs. Henderson waved from the other side of the fence and, smiling, Susannah waved back, but didn’t stop for conversation. She wasn’t in the mood to chat.

The sun was glorious and the sky a pure, bright shade of blue. She hadn’t seen her mother since yesterday and before she resumed packing, Susannah decided to visit. Maybe they could take a stroll around Altamira’s beautifully tended gardens.

Perhaps it was her frame of mind, but instead of driving straight to the assisted-living complex Susannah went to the cemetery. On her last visit, she’d been so angry with her father—and at the time, she hadn’t known half of what she knew now. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she walked over to her brother’s grave.

The first thing she saw as she crossed the lawn was the display of flowers that marked the site—a display that was similar to the one she’d seen earlier, with roses again and peonies instead of lilacs. The roses had bloomed now. She couldn’t imagine who’d brought flowers to Doug’s grave.

She missed her brother terribly—more in these last seven months than in all the years he’d been dead. Glancing at the flowers, she realized she wasn’t the only one who missed him. She wondered if the person who’d come to visit had also broken into the house and taken his track ribbons. A long-lost love, perhaps. He’d been dating a local girl when he was killed. She tried to remember the girl’s name. Pauline? Peggy?

Patricia! Her name was Patricia Carney. Susannah couldn’t help wondering if Patricia still carried a torch for him after all this time. That was a distinct possibility, Susannah mused, bending down to run her fingers over his grave marker.

An hour later, after visiting her mother, who’d been tired and unresponsive and uninterested in a walk, Susannah was back at the house. She continued packing, concentrating on the kitchen and dining room. When she’d taken two carloads to the storage unit, she stopped for lunch, although she wasn’t really hungry. She hadn’t had much of an appetite for days.

And she knew it was because of Jake.

As she sat at the kitchen table, nibbling at a cheese sandwich, she returned to the half-formed idea she’d had yesterday, when she’d visited Carolyn at the mill. Hire a detective. With her limited resources and experience, plus her lack of computer skills, she needed professional help if Jake Presley was ever to be found.

Fortunately, she hadn’t packed up or thrown out the Spokane telephone directory. She dug it out of the drawer and flipped through the Yellow Pages until she came to the listing for Private Investigators.

A quarter-page advertisement with a giant magnifying glass caught her attention. The name on the advertisement was Dirk Knight.

She had to bolster her courage to make the call. All the while she was punching out the number, Susannah prayed she was doing the right thing.

“Dirk Knight.” The detective himself answered on the first ring. Susannah was afraid this might not be a promising sign. Either he was sitting at his desk with nothing to do, which wasn’t a high recommendation. Or he couldn’t afford office staff. Or both. His quick response flustered Susannah.

“Hello?” the gruff voice continued.

Drawing in a deep breath, she forged ahead. “Hello, my name is Susannah Nelson and I’m calling to inquire about the possibility of locating someone.”

“A missing person?”

“Not exactly missing. This is an old friend I knew over thirty years ago.”

“A high school boyfriend?”

“Well…”

“A relative?”

“No—no, it isn’t anything like that. This is someone from my hometown that I knew as a teenager.” Susannah added a few of the pertinent details.

“I’ll need a thousand-dollar retainer.”

“A thousand dollars?” Susannah swallowed a gasp. That was out of the question. “Thanks, but no thanks.” She replaced the receiver and went down the list alphabetically, calling each P.I. listed.