Diane Davidson - The Grilling Season

I wandered through sparsely stocked aisles and finally decided on some Fairy roses. The bushes featured lovely pink blossoms and were guaranteed’ hardy at our altitude, a key asset. As I loaded them into the van, I pictured Tom getting a huge kick out of my sudden interest in things horticultural.

Wait a minute. I stopped dead and looked again at the carved sign: ASPEN MEADOW NURSERY. In the list of questions I’d entered into my computer about Suz Craig’s murder, had I even thought to look into these people, also fired by Suz Craig? No. Well. No time like the present.

I hustled back inside and told the cashier that on second thought I’d like to have my yard landscaped. And I wanted to have the same person who’d done Suz Craig’s in the Aspen Meadow Country Club. Suz had raved to me about the great work he’d done.

The cashier’s face fell. “Uh, you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, Duke’s out in the yard. Big blond fellow. Better go catch him, he does an early shift, then goes out with the guys for lunch on Wednesdays, then he goes home and sleeps. I have to tell you, Duke didn’t like that Craig woman. You might want to find somebody else, if she was your friend. He had a big grudge against her. Still does, even if she’s dead.”

Yes, yes, I thought, take a number and get in line. The cashier pointed me in the direction of the nursery’s yard, which was on the same side of the street as Aspen Meadow Barbecue. The man at the yard gate pointed to a Paul Bunyanesque, platinum-haired giant who wore ear protection and drove a Cat loaded with mulch. The gate guard waited until the Cat had turned in our direction, then waved to the giant, whom I assumed was Duke. Duke dumped the mulch in the waiting bed of a truck, then chugged over to us. He flipped a switch and the engine died. He hopped out of the Cat and loomed over us-he was at least six foot six-and asked the gate guard what he wanted, for crying out loud. The guard jerked his thumb in my direction.

Duke turned his attention down to me. His dark blue eyes were not friendly. The bus-yellow ear-protection device dangled from one of his meaty hands, and I had the feeling that if he didn’t like what I had to say, he’d pop it right back on. I looked way, way up at him.

“Ah, I understand that,” I began sincerely, “you did some landscaping for Suz Craig. I thought it looked great.”

“Yah, what about it? You a friend of hers?”

“Well, sort of – “

“Okay, see ya later,” he said abruptly, and snapped the ear protection back on.

“Wait!” I yelled. Duke scowled, opened his eyes wide, and tugged off the metal ear muffs.

“I gotta go, lady. I’m going out to lunch in a few minutes and I need to finish this load. You want a landscaper, ask the people at the nursery to give you a referral someplace else. I don’t want to work for nobody who liked that woman. Got it? See ya later, okay?”

“Well, hold on,” I said, desperate now. “Just talk to me. I don’t really want landscaping. I catered for Suz Craig and I’m having some problems – “

Duke smirked knowingly. “Ah, she stiffed you, too, huh?”

“What?” Then I understood. Suz Craig had refused to pay him for his work. I assumed a sad expression. “We had terrible problems,” I confided.

Duke looked at the sky and shook his blond head. “Honestly, people like that – “

“You heard she was killed.”

“Yah. No wonder.”

“So you thought she was hard to deal with, too. I’m just wondering if your story is similar to mine.”

“I’ll tell ya, I’d have to be half plastered to tell my story about that woman. But then you wouldn’t be able to shut me up.”

Inspiration struck. I asked, “How quickly can you finish your load?” He grunted something unintelligible. Undaunted, I went on. “How does tequila and chili sound? My treat.”

Duke grunted again, something that I decided to take as a yes.

I said, “Let’s do lunch.”

26

Inside Aspen Meadow Barbecue, there was only one free table. I quickly nabbed it for Duke and me while scoping out the restaurant’s interior. All I needed now was someone I knew informing my new drinking buddy, Duke, that my husband was a cop. That could put a chilling effect on our lunchtime chat. But of the two dozen men ranging from scruffy to burly at the bar and tables, no one looked familiar.

Once Duke had seated himself and called greetings to a few of his pals, I slipped over to the bartender. “Two tequila doubles for my friend, but just give me water, because I’m driving us home. When I signal, bring us the bottles. Put water in mine. I can’t drink, but I don’t want him to feel as if he’s drinking alone.”

The bartender, who sported a stiff handlebar mustache, squinted at me appraisingly. “You trying to keep him away from the wheel, or you trying to get him into bed?”

I pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of my pocket. “Just please do what I ask.”

He palmed the bill in a way that suggested he’d been bribed before. “I’ll give you something besides water, to look more realistic. Tell you the truth, I’m glad somebody’s driving Duke home. Every Wednesday I gotta call somebody from the nursery to take him.”

Soon Duke and I were crying “Skol” and clinking our first glasses. I took a tentative sip of what turned out to be flat Mountain Dew.

“Whatcha drinking?” Duke wanted to know, his tone already mellowing from defensive to chummy.

“Different kind of tequila. Lime-flavored.” We chugged our second shots companionably and I sneaked a peek at my watch. Just past noon. I needed to be home to put together the doll club’s dinner no later than three. Subtracting time to get Duke back to his place, that gave us about two hours. I signaled to the bartender to bring us the bottles. The man was so inventive, I had no doubt he could provide a suitable container for my Mountain Dew.

Duke smacked his lips. “Ah. Well. So. What happened to you with that woman? You trying to get money out of the will? That’s what I’m doing. Lawyer says it’ll take at least a year ‘cuz a the criminal investigation. My plants’ll croak by then.” He shook his head unhappily.

“No! Actually, see, I have a different kind of problem. My ex-husband’s the one who’s been accused of killing her – “

Duke grinned broadly. “Oh, boy: Mind if I smoke? It’s not tobacco, it’s a clove cigarette. Heard of ‘em?”

“No, but go ahead.” In a minute the spicy smoke rose in a cloud. I gagged but plunged onward. “I catered for Suz Craig, even though she was my ex-husband’s young, blond girlfriend. No grudges, you understand. But now her death has made a real mess for my family. You know, everybody blaming everybody. So my problem is that I keep looking back at what happened and thinking, How could I have prevented this?”

The bartender arrived and winked at me. He set a tequila bottle in front of Duke and a black ceramic decanter in the shape of an Aztec goddess in front of me. Cute. Then the waitress arrived and Duke informed her that we wanted two bowls of their hottest chili. I thought longingly of a crisp, cold arugula salad and how well it would go with iced coffee.

“What could you have done to prevent it?” Duke now repeated incredulously, shaking his big head. “Nothing. Not a damn thing. Some people are just that way. Bossy, impossible to please. Nothing you do is right for them. I always want to ask new clients, Are you an asshole? ‘Cuz if you are, I’d like to know up front. Save us both a lot of time. But, a’course, the nursery owner won’t let me.” He shook his head again.

“How was Suz Craig bossy to you? She seemed to like the landscape work you were doing when she showed it to me.”