Night Of The Living Dandelion Part 4

"Whether she does or doesn't, it'll still start a whole new round of rumors." Marco took his bowl to the kitchen, so I released Simon, who was wiggling in my arms.

The little furball gave himself a shake, licked his paw, then sashayed after Marco, his long white tail curled into a question mark. "Don't feed Simon," I said. "He's had his tuna."

"Sorry, buddy," I heard Marco say. "The queen has spoken."

Marco returned with the coffeepot to refill our cups.

"What time did you get in last night?" I asked. I'd crashed before midnight and only vaguely remembered Marco coming in.

"Twelve thirty," he said. "The hecklers were gone, and Rafe was there, along with Bob, Kyle, and some of the other regulars, so I figured Vlad would be okay."

Marco's cell phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, snapped it open, and answered with a crisp "Salvare," as he walked into the kitchen. He talked quietly for a few minutes, and when he came back to the living room, he looked grim.

"That was Reilly giving me a heads-up," he said as he sat beside me. "The cops found the Willis woman's purse in her car with her phone and wallet still inside, money and credit cards intact, so it doesn't appear to have been a robbery."

"An abduction, then?"

"Looks that way."

"Why are you frowning?"

"Because inside the purse was a piece of Parkview Hospital stationery with Vlad's name and number on it. He's now officially a person of interest."

CHAPTER FOUR.

"The cops have been trying to reach Vlad since they discovered the car, but he's not answering his door or his phone," Marco told me, scrolling through his cell phone's address book. He punched in a number, then held the phone to his ear and said to me, "Reilly asked me to make sure Vlad gets in touch with them."

"Poor Vlad. Once he gets in the cops' crosshairs, he's doomed."

Marco listened for several seconds, then said, "Vlad, it's me. Call as soon as you get this." He closed his phone and tucked it away. "Reilly should be able to persuade calmer heads to prevail until the evidence can clear Vlad. The forensic team is still processing the car, and the cops are going door-to-door in the apartment building and to all the houses in the neighborhood to see if anyone witnessed anything. Something will turn up. I'm sure of it."

"Are you one hundred percent sure Vlad isn't involved? I mean, other than the time you served with him in the army, how much do you really know about him?"

"Suns.h.i.+ne, believe me, there is nothing in Vlad's background that would make me suspect him of stealing a pack of gum, let alone abducting someone. It's just a matter of time until he's cleared."

"Is there anything we can do to speed it up?" I asked.

"Pray that they find the woman soon." Marco put his arm around me and drew me against him. "And here's another thing you can do." He tugged on one end of the velour belt that tied my robe and tugged until it was loose. "Tell me how much time we have before you have to leave for work."

"I think there's enough time for what you have in mind."

That was all the encouragement Marco needed. He swept me up in his arms and carried me to my bedroom, closing the door before Simon could scurry in after us.

When Marco pulled up in front of Bloomers at two minutes before eight that morning, Lottie hadn't arrived, so Grace held the door open and then helped me switch to the wheelchair. She had already started a pot of her special blend of coffee and had set out cups and saucers, and her homemade scones, so I headed straight for the parlor.

"You've a lovely blush in your cheeks this morning," Grace said, bringing the coffeepot to the table. "This brisk spring weather must agree with you."

Brisk weather was one explanation.

The bell over the door jingled as Lottie let herself in. "Mmm! I smell blueberry scones," she called. She came into the parlor rubbing her hands together. "Let me at 'em. I could eat a horse this morning."

"A deplorable Yank saying," Grace said. "No one could eat an entire horse. The thought of it is revolting."

"I could say the same about kidney pie," Lottie said, pulling out a chair at the front table.

"Pork rinds," Grace said with a shudder.

"Black pudding," Lottie said.

"Speaking of black," said Grace, who was the mistress of segues, "those houseplants you ordered for Vlad will be delivered Monday, Abby. There was a message waiting this morning. Apparently the supplier was having some difficulty getting the voodoo lily."

"Speaking of Vlad," Lottie said, who loved topping Grace's segues, "have you heard the latest on the missing woman? The news on the radio this morning reported that her car and belongings were found behind the apartment building where Vlad lives."

At least we were off the subject of disgusting food. "How did you know Vlad lived there?"

"It was on the radio," Lottie said, selecting a scone. "You should've heard what people were calling in to say about Vlad. As I see it, if Vlad did abduct that woman, he'd have to be pretty dumb to leave her car behind his building."

"Or exceedingly clever," Grace said. "He could be trying to make himself look so guilty that no one could possibly believe he was the abductor."

"I hope Marco's business isn't affected by all the hoopla," Lottie said.

"I doubt it'll matter," I said. "Marco is one hundred percent behind Vlad."

"Let's hope he isn't disappointed," Grace said, then cleared her throat and lifted her chin, a sign that she was about to share a quote. "As George Was.h.i.+ngton said, 'Be courteous to all, but intimate with few; and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.' "

We clapped. She acknowledged our applause with a regal nod, then went to refill the coffeepot at the back of the parlor. Lottie whispered, "She just got done putting down Yank sayings. Then she turns around and quotes Was.h.i.+ngton."

"If you want to point that out to her, go ahead," I whispered back.

"Heck, no. She'd probably chop down my cherry trees."

The phone rang and Lottie went to answer it as Grace returned to freshen our cups. "What is your impression of Vlad, Abby?" she asked.

I popped a bite of scone into my mouth and thought about her question as I chewed. "He's polite. Beguiling. Handsome. Different . . ." I ran out of adjectives.

"Different," Grace mused. "Do you mean he's odd?"

I blinked at Grace, not wanting to cast aspersions on Marco's buddy. "Can't we leave it at different?"

Lottie came into the parlor with the handset. "Sweetie, it's your mom."

Speaking of different. I glanced at my watch as I wheeled out of the parlor to take the call. It was eight thirty. What was Mom doing phoning me now? "Mom? Aren't you teaching today? Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine, honey. The cla.s.s is having an art lesson now. Jillian texted me earlier to remind me to remind you about our family dinner tonight. She wants to be sure you and Marco will be there."

I'd get Jillian for siccing Mom on me. "We'll be there. Don't worry."

But as soon as I hung up, a thought struck me. Given Vlad's situation, would Marco feel confident enough to leave the bar for the whole evening? I couldn't imagine making an engagement announcement without him, and I certainly didn't want to be alone when I told the family that Marco might be going overseas. So as soon as I hung up, I wheeled into the workroom to phone Marco, only to get his voice mail.

I didn't leave a message. It could wait until I saw him at lunch.

We opened Bloomers at nine o'clock to a handful of customers, most of whom headed for the coffee-and-tea parlor to gobble down Grace's scones. With Grace covering the parlor and Lottie manning the retail side, I stayed in my coc.o.o.n of peace and handled orders that had come in overnight.

My blissful coc.o.o.n burst shortly after eleven o'clock, when Grace came in to alert me that she'd spotted my cousin Jillian through the bay window, heading for Bloomers.

"This will help you brace yourself, dear," Grace said, placing a cup of tea beside me.

"The only thing that would help me now is a potion to ward off evil spirits."

"I'm afraid it's only chamomile, love." Grace headed for the curtain. "I'll see what I can do about the potion."

Did she think I was serious? "Wait, Grace," I called after her. Sometimes she was so efficient she scared me.

The curtain parted and Jillian swept in. She wore a rich, colorful paisley scarf over the shoulders of her white wool coat, with brown leather boots and a matching beret that brought out the highlights in her coppery red hair.

"Look at this picture," she said, thrusting her tiny camera at me. "Tell me what you see."

"I see people standing around the bar at Down the Hatch."

"Now tell me who's not in the picture."

"How am I supposed to know who's not in it?"

She huffed in exasperation. "Remember when I stopped at the bar to take Vlad's photo? Well, do you see him in the photo?"

"Here's an idea, Jillian. Say, 'Look, Abby! Vlad's not in the picture.' "

Frowning, she said in a monotone, "Look, Abby. Vlad is not in the picture. Now tell me why he's not in the picture."

I examined the screen. "Here's your problem. Your thumb was on the lens."

Jillian clicked a b.u.t.ton on the camera to forward it to the next shot. "He's not in this one either." She clicked again. "Or this one."

I had to admit it was odd that she hadn't managed to capture even one shot of Vlad, but I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of agreeing with her. "Maybe you should have asked Vlad to pose instead of trying to take his picture through the crowd."

Jillian put her hands on the sides of my face and bent her knees so we were eye to eye. "Abby, h.e.l.lo! Don't you get it? He isn't in the photos because vampires can't be photographed."

"Let go of my face."

She tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "Have you ever thought of flipping your hair? Remember when you were fourteen and I did a makeover on you? We were at your house over spring break-it was March twenty-sixth, at one seventeen p.m.-and you-"

I pulled away from her. "Vampires aren't real, Jillian."

"You don't believe me?" She narrowed her eyes. "Then I'll just have to get more proof." She slipped the camera into her purse and started toward the curtain. She'd forgotten all about dinner at the country club.

Then she paused, turned toward me, and tapped her chin. "There was something else . . ."

I held my breath.

Lottie peeked through the curtain. "I'm gonna take my lunch break now, sweetie. The shop is quiet and I need to get home to start my dinner for tonight."

"Dinner!" Jillian said, brightening. "That's it! Thank you, Lottie."

"You're welcome," Lottie said, giving her a puzzled glance before she left.

Looking smug, Jillian returned to the worktable and leaned on both elbows to smile at me. "You were hoping I'd forget, weren't you?"

"Listen, Jillian, about the dinner."

She pointed at me. "I agreed to keep quiet about your you-know-what for one more week, and that week is up tonight. So if you don't show up, I get to tell."

Where was Grace with that potion?

"I don't understand why you're making a big deal out of our news," I said.

"And I don't understand your need for secrecy," Jillian countered. "This is a big deal, Abs! After waffling for months, you're finally going to tie the knot. You should be delighted to share that with family. Imagine the fun you, your mom, Marco's mom, and me and my mom will have planning your bridal events and shopping for your wedding accoutrements. Seriously, who could possibly be better qualified to help you shop for a wedding gown than moi?"

"That's because you bought five of them."

"I meant because I shop for finicky Chicago women all the time. And, FYI, I returned four of those gowns. But just think, Abs. We can make an entire day of it in Chicago. No, a week! Fire up your charge card, cuz. Magnificent Mile, here we come!"

Which was exactly why I'd been keeping our engagement a secret. In fact, an elopement was starting to look pretty darn attractive. "Grace?" I called. "The potion? Hurry!"

"There's a new rumor spreading about Vlad," Lottie reported upon her return from lunch. "The gossip is that he set up a secret rendezvous with the Willis woman so he could drink her blood, and in his bloodl.u.s.t craze, he left her car and belongings behind."

"That's absurd," I said.

"Maybe so, but people are eating this stuff up, sweetie, and that doesn't bode well for Vlad. You might want to call Marco and alert him."

"I'll tell him in person. I'm heading down there for lunch now anyway."

I exchanged the wheelchair for my crutches and waited while Lottie opened the door for me. Outside, people were once again huddled on the courthouse lawn, but many more than before, with cops in patrol cars watching from both ends of the block.

I felt hundreds of eyes on me as I laboriously made my way up the sidewalk-step-hop-step-hop. I managed to wave to a group of women from the clerk's office, regulars at our coffee-and-tea parlor, but they pretended not to see me. At Down the Hatch, I tapped on the big window and waited until Gert let me in. Marco was working with Rafe behind the bar, and as soon as he saw me, he came around to help. There were a few customers sitting in booths and two at the counter; otherwise the place was empty.

"Hey, b.u.t.tercup," Marco said with a smile. "You're just the tonic we need."

"I need to talk to you privately," I said in a whisper.

"Sure. Let me finish up with Rafe. Then I'll meet you in my office."