Pushing Up Daisies Page 2

  Zap!

  I jerked my hand away as energy zipped through me, carrying a vision: The heavy smell of spicy cologne, a male voice and female voice arguing, a man’s huge black sneakers, a glass bowl shattering against the wall, a wave of panic.

  Standing abruptly, I held my sunhat on while I jogged in place. The familiar pop of energy leaving my body came after a few seconds. It was a small energy discharge, so the argument must not have been too traumatic for Daisy.

  Glancing over at Hana, I felt a ping of empathy. Didn’t seem like she and Oggie were doing too good in the relationship department.

  Will caught my eye as I stopped jogging. He smirked and looked down at Daisy, who’d scooted back under the tablecloth, startled by my sudden movement. Just her curious, liquid black eyes and long nose peered out at us.

  Well, that was an improvement in Will’s reaction.

  Is he getting comfortable with me receiving psychic visions from traumatized animals?

  Encouraged, I knelt and coaxed Daisy back out. “Sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to startle you.” I softly scratched beneath her long, floppy ears. Her tongue reached out and licked my arm. “Aren’t you a sweetheart. Better get back in the shade, though. It’s hot as hades out here today.” I lifted up the tablecloth. She gifted me a panting grin then disappeared.

  When I stood, I saw Hana fall into Ogden’s arms. Tears ran in shiny streaks down her face. Ogden kissed the top of her head. I quickly turned away, giving them their moment of privacy. Relationships sure weren’t easy.

  Will and I made our way back toward the band, the bag of sushi dangling from Will’s hand. “So,” he said, “what happened with the dog?”

  I glanced up at him. His eyes met mine, and I saw curiosity, not fear or judgment. Dare I say acceptance? Was he trying harder because he felt he was competing with Zach? Either way, he was definitely trying.

  “I saw an argument between a man and woman. I’m assuming the dog’s owner, Hana, and her boyfriend. I couldn’t see faces, just some big male sneakers, and couldn’t make out words, just the tone. A glass bowl was thrown against the wall. Scared Daisy a bit, but she wasn’t hurt.”

  “It’s kind of like psychic eavesdropping, isn’t it?” Will teased. Then he slipped an arm around my shoulder. “Guess that could come in handy.”

  My heart expanded, and the sun seemed brighter. If he was getting comfortable with my visions, maybe I should take another shot at explaining my elemental magick to him? The last time I’d tried had been such a disaster, but I really needed him to know and accept all of me. Otherwise, what’s the point of us being together?

  CHAPTER THREE

  By the time we reached the table where I’d left Mal, the band was on a break and the stage was empty.

  “Where’d my sister disappear to now?” I sighed, scanning the crowd. “She was supposed to text me when they were done.”

  Will pointed to the right side of the stage, under an oak tree. “There she is.”

  My eyes narrowed as I realized who she was sitting on the grass with. Of course. “Come on.”

  “Hey there, Mal,” I said, eyeing Brad Rose. His glossy black hair was swept over one eye, and his red guitar leaned against the tree beside him. “Hi, I’m Darwin, Mallory’s sister.”

  He nodded, not bothering to stand up. “How’s it going?”

  Folding my arms, I pointed my chin toward Will. “And this here is Detective Will Blake. Homicide unit.”

  Mallory scooped Petey up and pushed herself off the ground. She shot me a look that held a different kind of fire. Her face was flushed, which didn’t happen from the Florida heat, she was immune to that. It only came from the type of heat an attractive male caused.

  Brad Rose sketched a salute at Will. His bottom lip piercing glinted in the sunlight as he smirked. “What’s up?”

  Will silently gave him the once over.

  I forced the irritation from my tone as I said, “Mal, we’re going to sit down and eat. We have extra. Join us?”

  “Not hungry.” Her brows rose over glittering eyes. A warning for me to back off. Then she placed Petey in my arms. “Take him with you, will ya? Brad’s going to let me play his guitar before they go back on.”

  “How nice of Brad.” I’m sure she caught my sugary, sarcastic tone, but she ignored it. I was also sure she didn’t give a lick what I thought right now. I smoothed Petey’s hair back from his eyes. “Fine.” Before I left, I glared at Brad. “Don’t give her any alcohol, she’s only eighteen.”

  “You’re turning into Mom,” Mallory threw at my back.

  As Will unpacked the sushi, I pulled a collapsible silicone dog bowl—one of our best-selling summer items—from my straw bag and filled it with fresh water. Petey lapped up a few mouthfuls, then stuck a paw in the bowl and started digging.

  I shook my head and laughed. “You’re a trip.” I looked up at Will with a groan. “I’m getting too attached to this little guy, too. I’ve got to find him a home before Mallory talks me into keeping him.”

  Will slipped a pair of wooden chopsticks from their wrapping. “It shouldn’t be hard to find a home for a purebred puppy, should it?”

  I picked up the other pair of chopsticks. “It is when you don’t actually tell anyone the puppy needs a home.”

  As we ate, I kept an eye on Mallory. She’d removed her sunhat. Her long, auburn hair was draped over one shoulder, and she alternated between stroking Brad’s guitar, and looking adoringly into his eyes. He slid behind her and put his hand on top of hers.

  I think I growled out loud.

  Will followed my gaze. “Want me to do a background check on him?”

  “Can you do that?” I asked, completely serious.

  The corner of Will’s mouth twitched with amusement. “She’s technically an adult and a smart girl. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  I popped a piece of California roll in my mouth and sulked while I chewed. “She’s only dated one guy before, and you remember how that turned out. She’s naïve.”

  Will reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “And the cure for that is experience.”

  I sighed. He was right. I’d been naïve when I’d first moved to St. Pete, too. But I’d gotten lucky right out of the gate by meeting Will. I watched him struggle to open a packet of soy sauce with his teeth. A swell of gratitude rolled over me. I really was lucky. Sometimes it was easy to take him for granted. I shouldn’t do that.

  “Thanks for ...” I felt myself choke up. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. “For being you.”

  His eyes sparkled playfully as they met mine. Tossing the packet on the table, he pressed his warm lips against my knuckles then grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re only minutes away from the start of the Chef’s Showdown, where eleven chefs from local restaurants will go head to head in five different seafood categories, competing to win the coveted Golden Lobster Award. Four judges will cast their votes, and the winner will be announced this evening at 5:00 pm. So, come on over to the Chef’s Tent Exhibition to watch the judging and cheer on your local favorite.”

  I removed my sunhat and fanned myself with it. “Golden Lobster Award? Wonder if it’s an actual golden lobster like the one Hana from Happi Sushi threw in the trash?”

  “Don’t know.” Will packed up the empty containers and shoved them back in the bag. “Want to take a walk over there and check it out? I’ll probably be hungry again in five minutes anyway.”

  “Are you just trying to keep me from ruining Mal’s chance at a date with Mr. Rock Star?”

  “Yes.” Will scooped up the bag and flashed me a grin that I’d follow anywhere. “Come on, Ms. Overprotective.”

  We stopped at a wine tasting table on the way there, so I ended up with a plastic cup of Riesling in one hand and Petey in the other. I wasn’t trying to baby the Yorkie—which I was constantly chiding Mallory for—I just didn’t want him to get stepped on. This was a big crowd, lots of opportunity to get trampled.

  We were standing off to the side, sipping our wine and waiting for the judges to taste the first round of appetizers when I spotted my friend, Frankie, in the crowd. “Will, can you get Frankie’s attention?” I asked, since I didn’t have any free hands.

  Will stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. When Frankie turned, he waved her over.

  “Hey, y’all!” Her hug was scented with sunscreen and mango body lotion. “You remember Minnie, right?”

  “Sure! Hey, Minnie.” I shook her hand. I’d met her before at Pirate City—a stretch of makeshift shelters in the woods where the homeless lived. She looked different. Happier and cleaned up with a new, shoulder-length haircut and a crisp, yellow sundress.

  I’m sure Frankie’d had something to do with that. She used to be one of the homeless, too, until she’d won millions in the Florida lottery a few years back. She’s never forgotten where she came from, though.

  “And this is Spider.” Frankie motioned to the guy standing behind her. His eyes were cast down and while his hair was combed, it was greasy, and sweat had left a dark streak down the side of his dusty cheek. That and his scruffy clothes suggested he was homeless.

  “Nice to meet you.” Spider didn’t look Will in the eye when he shook his hand, though he smiled at me before ducking his head.

  “Hello, Petey darling!” Frankie scratched under the Yorkie’s chin, and he began to squirm in my arms. “Here, let me take him for a minute. Give you a break.”

  I let her slide Petey from my arm and then asked, “Where’s your girls?” Her two Chihuahuas usually went everywhere with her.

  She rolled her eyes. “At home. Itty ate one of my house plants, which thank the good Lord in heaven wasn’t toxic, but she’s thrown up a few times. The vet said to just give her access to plenty of water and let her rest. I didn’t want to leave her alone, so Bitty stayed, too.” She laughed as Petey nipped at her chin. “Aren’t you feisty today.” As she stroked the top of his head, chunky gold bracelets slid down her freckled arm and caught Petey’s attention. He tried to attack them but couldn’t reach.

  “Hope she feels better soon. If not, let me know, I’ve got some flower essence that might—”

  “Okay folks,” the announcer interrupted over crackling speakers. “Our Chef’s Showdown has begun. For round one, the judges have appetizers in front of them, which had to be created from the ingredients given to the chefs. Good luck, everyone!”

  Frankie leaned in. With a conspiratorial tone, she said, “You know who the judge on the end is? The woman with short, dark hair?”

  We all glanced at the dark-haired woman, watching as she snapped a photo of the dish in front of her with her cell phone, before digging her fork in.

  “No, who is she?” I asked.

  “That’s none other than Ruth “the Ruthless” Russo, the infamous food critic. Nobody knew what she looked like until now. Today is her public debut.”

  “Really?” I watched Ruth Russo pick up a pen and write something. “Isn’t going out in public to restaurants sort of a job requirement? How’d no one know what she looked like before now?”

  Frankie moved Petey to rest in her other arm. “They do go out in public, but she always wore disguises. Wigs and stuff. She’s not very well-liked in the restaurant world, to say the least. Loathed is more like it. She’s given some scathing reviews over the years. Been responsible for the failures of dozens of restaurants.”

  I eyed Ruth Russo. Must feel good to finally be out in public without a disguise. Or not. If she was that hated, she might still be worried about folks knowing who she really is. “I understand why she’d want to stay anonymous. But why’s she showing her face now?”

  “Apparently she just retired from the newspaper business and has been hired to do a TV show. One of those shows that exposes how restaurants misrepresent and sometimes flat out lie to their customers about where their food comes from.”

  “Can’t imagine that’s going to improve her reputation,” Will said.

  “I don’t think she cares at this point.” Frankie dug some cash out of her bright orange, linen short’s pocket and handed it to Spider. “Be a doll and get us all some of those crab cakes, will ya?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He was still staring at the hundred-dollar bill in his hand as he walked away.

  “You think he’s coming back?” Minnie looked concerned as she reached over and scratched under Petey’s chin. His eyes squinted in pleasure as he ate up the attention.

  “Have faith, darlin’.” Frankie winked at her, then leaned toward me. “Spider’s a recovering opioid and heroin addict. Just got out of his third stay at rehab. Poor guy has some permanent brain damage from an overdose back in March.”

  My heart squeezed as I watched him navigate through the crowd. “He’s got a long road ahead of him. By the nickname I assume he’s living at Pirate City?” No one used their real name there. Mac, a long-time resident of the homeless camp, seemed to be in charge of giving everyone nicknames. At least he’d given me mine, Snow White.

  “Yeah.” She wiped at the sweat rolling down her temple. “First night there, he ended up sleeping on top of the picnic table instead of in his tent when a wolf spider tried to make friends.” She chuckled to herself. “Anyway, Mac’s lookin’ out for him.” She turned her attention to Minnie. “Our girl here is out though. Got a cute little trailer over on 4th Street and a full-time job cleanin’ rooms at the Comfort Inn.”

  “Congrats, Minnie, that’s great news.” I was glad she wasn’t living in the homeless camp anymore. It was dangerous enough to live there as a male. Being female, I’m sure meant she had a very different kind of danger to worry about.

  As Frankie was catching us up on all the local gossip, Spider returned. He’d been gone awhile, but Frankie and Minnie shared a relieved smile when he held out a wad of money. Pocketing it, Frankie squeezed his shoulder. “Proud of you.”

  Spider’s face looked stricken for a moment, but then he dropped his head and held up the plate of crab cakes.

  “Looks delicious,” Frankie said, taking one.

  My attention moved from Spider to Frankie. She hadn’t seemed to notice his odd reaction to her praise.

  I pushed the thought aside as a few of my regular customers from the pet boutique stopped by to chat and watch the contest with us.

  By the time the judges were on their last course, I was getting nervous about leaving Mallory alone for so long. I opened my mouth to tell Will we should head back to find her when there was a sudden commotion at the judges table.

  Ruth Russo popped out of her chair and fell forward, knocking over the folding table and sending all the contents spilling into the grass. There was a collective gasp from the crowd. Pushing herself off the toppled table, she whirled around and started throwing up in the trash can behind her. The other three judges jumped up from their chairs. They huddled together, glancing nervously at each other as the surrounding crowd grew silent.

  Will threaded himself through the bystanders toward the commotion. I followed closely behind. Ruth Russo was still vomiting when we reached her.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” Will asked.

  She leaned both hands on the edge of the trash can. Her skin glistened with sweat and she was panting hard. Lifting a shaking hand, she tugged on the neckline of her shirt. “I ... I can’t breathe.”

  Will pulled out his phone and dialed 911. “Any paramedics here?” he shouted.

  Two women pushed through the crowd. “We’re nurses.” They hurried over and helped Ruth back into her chair. One of them grabbed a water bottle, the other checked Ruth’s pulse with two fingers on her wrist. Ruth’s breathing was even more labored, her dark eyes wild with fear.

  The nurse checking her pulse glanced back at Will. She stared at him meaningfully. “Tell them to hurry.”

  Four minutes rolled by like molasses in the winter. We all watched helplessly as Ruth Russo gasped for breath.

  I held my hand protectively to my own throat as her panic washed over me.

  Two paramedics finally pushed through the crowd carrying a gurney. As they tended to Ruth, Will called the nurses over.

  “That doesn’t look like heat exhaustion.” His voice was heavy with concern.

  They shared a glance. The taller brunette shook her head. “Honestly, with the vomiting, the low blood pressure, arrhythmia and the fact that her lips and tongue are numb ... I wouldn’t rule out poisoning.”

  After a moment of stunned silence, Will glanced over at Ruth Russo being carried away on the gurney. He pulled out his phone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It didn’t take long for St. Pete PD to arrive, with the crime scene investigators right behind them. They got busy taping off a large area that encompassed both the table and the spilled contents strewn in the grass.

  Will motioned to two officers. When they approached, he said, “I just spoke to the health department. They want the festival shut down until we can say for sure if Russo was poisoned or not and what exactly she ate. Find the festival coordinator and make the announcement. Clear everyone out.”

  A crime scene investigator wearing protective gloves and booties began slowly circling and videotaping the area, while a second investigator in protective gear approached Will. “What exactly are we thinking here?”

  Will had his hands on his hips, his gaze sweeping over the scene. “Possible poisoning, but not sure what the source is. Unfortunately, the victim knocked over the table, so we can’t be sure which of the items in the grass were in front of her. Just collect as many samples as you can. Plastic cups included. I’ll see if the other judges can help us out with what she consumed.”

  I waited until the investigator walked away and touched his arm. “I’m gonna go find Mal, so we can get out of your way.”

  “Okay.” He squeezed my hand. “I’ll call you later.”

  I nodded, but my insides twisted. I wasn’t sure I’d be free to take his call, and he definitely wouldn’t like the reason why.