Say It with Flowers

 

Yesterday, being Sunday, I sent a scathing email to the idiot who writes the Horoscope in my daily paper.  Why?  Because I’m bloody sure the only thing the ding-dong knows about stars is that they glitter in the heavens on cloudless nights.

Take Friday for example.  No mention of it being the thirteenth of the month, or that I should be wary of a dark, sinister stranger.  No, this clueless astrologer said a new lover would enter my life. Ha!  Waiting, waiting.

And then came Saturday’s forecast.  Supposedly a wonderful day for romance, no doubt with the elusive Romeo who didn’t materialize on Friday.  Of course, since we’re in the month of February, it was St. Valentine’s Day; hence all of the twelve Zodiac signs mentioned sweethearts and undying love. 

Anyway, I’m not pissed off because no hunky Knight in Levi’s strode into my life, since I was actually far too busy to miss him.  No, I’m pissed off because this so-called soothsayer didn’t have a clue that I would be involved in a murder on Friday and come close to death on Saturday!

So why was I busy?  I’m a florist and was flat out preparing bouquets and love tokens for those fortunate people who do have romance in their lives.  Naturally, along with Mothers’ Day, it’s one of the busiest times of my working year.

My Uncle Max and I share a building in Brunswick Street, Fitzroy. Max actually owns the premises, but rents the shop-front to me at minimal cost.  When Aunt Rose died in a car accident four years ago, I offered to help Max out by running her florist business, until he found a suitable replacement. Well, Max kept procrastinating, hoping, I know, that I would stick around.  He was right, of course.  Mind you, over the years, I had often worked for my aunt in between temp secretarial jobs.  Whilst I had really enjoyed the variety and experience temp work offered, I was definitely not sorry to leave my last position.  Hell, I’d rather be a motor mechanic than work at Dreamtime Funeral Home ever again!  Now I get to supply wreaths instead of receiving them on behalf of bodies in coffins.

Behind my shop, down a narrow breezeway, Max runs an antique business.  Well, while pre-loved furniture does make him a handsome income, it is also a front for his other lucrative occupation.  Max was an SP bookie eons before I was born, which was twenty-five years ago, give or take a few months. What Max doesn’t know about the g-gees isn’t worth knowing.

Naturally, the situation suits me just fine.  I reap the occasional windfall from Max’s tips, and my business overheads are kept to a minimum, since between us we employ young Jake . He acts as a lugger of heavy stuff for Max and flower buyer for me.  It’s poor Jake who gets up at dawn and heads to the market with my daily order.  By the time I struggle into work at eight-fifteen Jake has filled the back room of my shop with buckets of glorious blooms.

On Friday, St Valentine’s eve, naturally the order was huge.  I got to work at seven-thirty and spent the morning making up bouquets, baskets and vases of all the usual summer blooms.

By one o’clock I was leaning wearily on the counter, munching my sandwich lunch and so totally lost in a crime novel, that I didn’t notice the shop bell ring.  I did jump, however, when a shadow fell across the book.

‘Oh, sorry sir,’ I said, looking up.  ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

The guy looked like he’d stepped straight out of the set of every gangster movie you’ve ever seen.  Black leather jacket, black shirt and trousers, cream tie, black hair slicked back in a ponytail, mirror sunglasses, a great tan, aquiline nose, firm jaw and assuredly Mills and Boon eyes, if you could see them, which naturally I couldn’t.  He kind of looked how I picture Stephanie Plum’s Ranger, but the sexy grin was missing.  Good looking, I guess if you like the type.  Personally, if my stars were to be believed, I was expecting someone more akin to Mel Gibson.

‘Flowers for the girl friend?’ I asked cheerily.

‘A wreath.  I don’t see any.’

‘Oh, I am sorry.  Not a close friend or relative, I hope.’

‘No.’

‘Well, that’s good.  Look I don’t usually keep wreaths made up, but it won’t take long to do one for you.’

‘How long?’

‘Oh, give me an hour. What did you have in mind?’

He glanced around and indicated the bowl of red roses and white carnations on the end of the counter.  ‘Something like that.’

‘Okay.  Have a look through this album, you may see what you want.’ I said, sliding the book across the counter.

He flipped rapidly through it.  ‘This one. Not too big.’

‘Fine, a medium one then.  Say eighty-five dollars?’

 He nodded. ‘An hour you said.’

‘About that. But naturally I can have it delivered directly to the Funeral Home.  Save you coming back.’

‘No Funeral Home.  He’s not dead yet.’

Ooh, spooky!  Then it dawned on me.  ‘Oh dear, is he on life support?’

‘Something like that.’

I realized Mr. Taciturn was not about to elaborate.

‘Well, I should warn you Sir, that relatives often change their minds about turning the machines off.  Maybe you should wait until you’re really sure.  You can pay now if you like and give me a call when the time is right.’

‘Lady, just make the damn thing will you.  He will die tonight.’

‘Right. Sure,’ I nodded.  Definitely not a guy to argue with!  Even so, I just had to say it. ‘I should warn you though, even if the machine is turned off tonight, there’s bound to be a postmortem.  You’d be looking at two days at least.  The wreath will be well and truly wilted by then.  Perhaps you should consider artificial flowers?’

‘Real flowers.  I’ll be back in an hour.’  He turned on his heel and headed out the door.

I nearly leapt from my skin when Jake spoke right behind me. ‘Gees, Georgie, that was a weird one.’

‘Weird?  An understatement if you ask me! Bloody scary, I say!  Did you notice the bulge under his jacket, Jake?  I bet it was a gun.’

Jake rocked on his heels and grinned. ‘You’ve been watching too many Bruce Willis movies, Georgie.  Truth be known, it was a wad of cash.  He looked the type to carry a roll.’

‘Exactly!  A Wise Guy type, if ever I saw one.’

‘Georgie, this is Melbourne, not New York or Chicago.’

‘Don’t you watch the news, Jake?  There are currently close to twenty unsolved gangland murders in this State alone.  Anyway, he was plain creepy. I mean who in their right mind orders a wreath ahead of rigor mortis?’

‘You’ve got me there, Georgie.’

I opened the till and took out a twenty.  ‘Jake, take this and buy me one of those throwaway cameras.  We’re going to snap this guy when he comes back.’

If Jake’s hair hadn’t already been gunked up in green and orange spikes, it would have stood on end. ‘What do you mean we? Who’s going to point a camera at that bloke?’

I tipped my head on the side and raised my eyebrows. 

He took a step backwards.  ‘Oh, hell no! How would I take his photo without him knowing?  Shit, suppose it was a gun under his jacket? And what good’s a photo going to do anyway?’

‘Just humour me, will you?  I’ve got to do the wreath.’

Jake groaned.  ‘Okay, okay, but I tell you, you’re wasting your money.’

I heard him muttering to himself as he went out.  Of course, he was probably right, I do watch a lot of blood and guts videos.  Nothing like a good gung-ho movie to help me unwind after a hard day in the shop.  My theory is that getting rid of built up angst in the quiet of my own home, stops me from belting the occasional stupid or rude customer over the head with the nearest heavy vase.

It took a deal of fast talk and the promise of a pay bonus to cajole Jake into going along with my plan.  Mind you, he was the one in the hot seat, literally.  It was a stinking hot summer day and the bench out front was in full sun.  He kept fanning himself with a motor magazine and rolling his eyes at me through the shop window. I was about to give in and tell him to forget the whole idea, when I spotted our target crossing the road.  I gave Jake a snappy thumbs-up and raced to the security of the back room.  When I heard the bell go, I picked up the wreath and went to the counter.

‘Good it’s ready,’ said Mr. Monosyllable.

‘I hope this is what you required,’ I said stretching a forced smile.

‘It’s fine.  Eighty-five you said,’ he muttered, pulling a big wad of notes from his jacket.

Bloody hell, what had I done?  Jake was right, the bulge in his jacket was money.  No gun, just a bundle of cash!  And there was no way I could warn Jake. This bloke could make mincemeat of him if he caught him with the camera!

He peeled off four twenties and a ten and slapped them on the counter.  ‘Forget the change,’ he said, picking up the wreath.  ‘It’s perfect.’

Before I could reply he was halfway to the door.

I grabbed a fiver from the till and started after him.  If I could distract him in the doorway, he mightn’t notice Jake.

‘Take your change,’ I yelled as the door swung shut behind him. By the time I hit the footpath, he was climbing into a BMW along the street.  Sleek and black with dark tinted windows.

‘I did it,’ Jake crowed, shoving me into the shop.  ‘Took a bit of wangling though, trying to hide it with the magazine.  Did you get a load of his wheels?’

‘I certainly did.  I don’t suppose you caught the number plate?’

Jake slapped his hand on the side of his head.  ‘Ugh.’

‘Goofus,’ I said.

‘Well, I reckon you could be right about him.  Definitely a Mafia motor,’ Jake said, leaning on the counter.

‘Jake, Max drives a Beamer.  He’s not Mafia.’

‘Yeah, but Max doesn’t order wreaths for people who are still alive and kicking.’

‘Right.’ How was I going to tell him I thought the whole camera thing was a crazy idea and I wished I hadn’t thought of it?

‘You want me to get the film developed now, Georgie?’

‘Ah, no.  I think I’ll use up some more shots.  It’d be a pity not to get some of the Valentine arrangements for the album.’

‘It’s just I’ve got to collect a load of stuff for Max in a minute,’ Jake said, looking at his watch.  ‘It might take most of the afternoon.’

‘Not to worry.  If I have time I’ll take it down later.  I do suspect though, it may have been a waste of time.’

‘What?  Now you tell me.  I’m suffering from jangled nerves, heat exhaustion and dehydration, you know.’

‘Take a Coke from the fridge, okay?’

The rest of Friday was pure mayhem, sales-wise.  I figured there would be flowers hidden in all kinds of strange places over night to be brought forth with loving enthusiasm in the morning.  When I finally closed up at nine, I was more than ready for a microwave dinner and a long hot soak in the tub.

Saturday morning, it started all over again and being the day was even more frantic.

Just after eleven, Jake came bursting through the back door. ‘Georgie, have you got the radio on?  Have you heard the news?’

I shook my head and pointed to the speakers from which the strains of “Love Me Tender” were wafting.  Good old Elvis.

‘Georgie, you won’t believe this,’ Jake said, his eyes wide.  ‘There’s been another gangland shooting.  Some guy, Tony Some-one-or-other was found dead in his car, in his own driveway, in Collingwood.  He’d been shot at close range, they said.  The housekeeper found him when she arrived to work.’

‘Ooh,’ was all I could manage.

‘Yeah.  So the film, did you get it processed yesterday?’

‘Ah, no.  I got really busy after I used up all the shots and forgot all about it.’  I grabbed the camera from under the counter and shoved it at Jake. ‘See how fast they can do it.’

‘Right.’  Jake was halfway down the shop when he turned.  ‘Mind you, Georgie, there was no mention of a wreath on the news.’

‘Perhaps the Police are keeping it quiet for some reason.’

‘Oh, yeah, they do stuff like that, don’t they.  Why I wonder?’

‘I think it’s got something to do with fooling copy-cat murderers.’

‘Oh yeah, that sounds right.’

‘However, we should consider that this could have been something as simple as a practical joke.’

‘Funny sense of humour though.’

I nodded.  ‘Yes, he didn’t strike me as much of a joker.  Quite the reverse in fact. Okay, get it processed then we’ll decide what to do.’

Jake returned in minutes.

‘Ready in an hour.  I’ll be back then. Oh, and by the way, there was a nice drop-side table in that house-lot yesterday, if you’re still looking for one, Georgie.’

‘Oh good.  Ask Max to hold it until tomorrow.  Doubt I’ll get a chance to get in there today,’ I said.

As Jake disappeared, my bank manager came in to collect his order. He’s is, wonder of wonders, a man in his fifties, who is still head-over-heels in love with his wife.  Married thirty years and he still buys her flowers at least once a month.

‘Hi Mr. Clark.  Your basket’s ready. Pink roses and gypsophila.’

‘It’s great.  You’re a gem, Georgie,’ he enthused as I placed it on the counter.  ‘And I wish you’d call me Ted.  We’ve known each other long enough, surely.’

‘We have indeed.’

‘He pulled out his wallet and gave me his Visa card.  ‘You’ve excelled yourself with this one, Georgie.  The roses are Mary’s favourites.’

‘She’s a lucky woman, Ted.  It does my heart good to know romance can survive the rigors of marriage.’

He chuckled.  ‘I’m the lucky one.  But don’t tell me there’s no one special in your life, Georgie.’

‘A current deficit, I’m afraid,’ I sighed.  ‘However my Horoscope this morning was encouraging.'

He laughed.  ‘Good luck with the rest of the day then.’

‘Somehow I think any man who comes in here already has someone in mind when he buys flowers.’

Some time later, Jake reappeared with the packet of photos.  His expression wasn’t cheerful.

‘You’re going to hate me, Georgie.  Oh, the ones you took are great, but…’

‘But the important one isn’t?  Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Um, I did get the edge of the wreath,’ he replied handing me the photo.  ‘Pretty good considering I was shit scared and shaking like hell.’

I looked at the print.  ‘Oh, god it’s useless, Jake.’  All he’d managed to snap was a quarter of the wreath and half the man, from the shoulders down!

‘But see, I did get the ring on his finger.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s a plain gold band, Jake.  Every second married man in the world wears a ring like that.’

‘Oh, yeah.’

‘All it’s good for is a bookmark,’ I said slipping into my novel. ‘Let me see the others.’

I flipped through them.  All were in focus and perfect shots. ‘Never mind,’ I said patting him on the shoulder.  ‘At least it wasn’t a total waste.  We’ll do better next time I get a weirdo buying flowers for the undead.’

‘Ha!  You can count me out if you do. I’m not risking life and limb for any more of your hair-brained schemes, Georgie.’

‘Huh, nothing happened to you yesterday.’

‘More luck than anything, I say.’ 

‘You might be right,’ I grinned.  ‘Now, can you make a few deliveries for me?  They’re all local.’

‘Okay.  It’s gone quiet in Max’s.  Suppose everyone’s staying home with their air-conditioners. It’s like a furnace out there.’

‘Is it?’  The shop conditioner was keeping the temperature at a comfortable level.

‘I think there’s a storm brewing in the west though, so I’ll get going.’

‘The deliveries are just inside the back door, okay?’

‘I see them.  Back soon.’

A few minutes later, a frail old man wobbled in.  I watched with teeth clenched as his walking stick almost brought down a display stand.  He’d come for a bouquet for his new ladylove, no less.  She’d just moved into his retirement village, he said.  I figured him to be nearing his century, so wondered how old his Juliet might be.  He left me in no doubt.  Ida would celebrate her ninety-first in April!

Ain’t love grand?

Apparently violets were Ida’s favourite flowers. I explained that violets bloom in winter, but he was adamant.

‘Mind you,’ he said,  ‘she doesn’t see all that well.’

‘In that case, how about artificial violets?’

‘Nothing wrong with her nose,’ he stated, ‘just her eyes.’

He was happy after I put a few drops of violet oil on the artificial ones. I escorted him safely to the street and watched while he struggled onto a tram.

Jake sauntered in just after four to tell me Max was closing, so he was going to get some videos and go home.  Obviously, neither Jake nor his flat mate Mike had current Valentines.

‘Are you sure you need to hang around here by yourself, Georgie?’

I raised my eyebrows.  ‘Why wouldn’t I? I do every other Saturday.  Anyway, I’ve still got a bit of stock left.  Got to take opportunity when it’s there.’

He pursed his lips.  ‘Well, turn the music off and listen to the radio.  So far there’s been no mention of a wreath being connected to the murder, but…’

‘Sweet of you to worry, Jake, but I’ll be fine.  I seriously doubt we’ll hear anymore about it.   As I said before there’s possibly some really logical explanation for the guy’s behaviour yesterday.’

‘Yeah, maybe.  Have a good rest tomorrow, Georgie.’

‘I intend to be a couch potato all day,’ I replied.  ’Enjoy your videos.’

After topping up the water in some vases and rearranging the display, which had thinned out remarkably well, I went out to the street to check the effect through the window.  I was still standing there when a tremendous bang almost deafened me. It shook the aged verandah roof and shop windows vibrated. I was sure someone had fired a rocket launcher at me! I shot back inside and turned to check the street, half expecting to see it demolished.  Instantly, the sky was ablaze and an almighty clap of thunder rolled across the heavens.  I expelled the air from my lungs, realizing that Jake’s scare tactics had me edgy as hell.

When the sky opened in a torrent, I decided I’d stay until six then call it a day.  After slipping another CD into the player, I pulled out my novel planning on sitting out back in comfort.  The dud photo fell to the floor. I picked it up and had another look at it.  What I hadn’t noticed before, was the reflection in the shop window!

Of course it was useless for identification purposes, since it was the man’s back view, but there was a strange light streak down the back of his head.  I squinted, but it didn’t help. I shrugged.  Could be a fault in the film, or maybe light from some other source reflected in the shop window.  I shoved it back in the book and sank onto the chair.  My feet were aching like hell, so I slipped my shoes off and wiggled my toes. 

That’s when the phone rang!  On the way to pick it up I stepped in a puddle and almost slid over on the concrete floor at the end of the counter.

‘Forget-me-nots,’ I gasped.

‘Georgie, it’s me, Jake.  It’s on the news headlines!’

‘What is, Jake?’

‘The wreath!  I’ve just seen it.  It’s exactly like the one you made!  And Mike says it’s the second time he’s seen it on the Tele. The Police want any florist who made a wreath like it to call them.  ASAP, they said.’

‘Shit!  Did they say it was connected to the shooting?’

‘No, but…’

‘Hang up, Jake.  I’ll call them now.’

‘I think you should get out of the shop, Georgie!  Looks to me like that bloke is the killer?  If he’s seen the news, it’s a dead cert. he’ll come after you!’

‘Okay, okay, I will.  Just get off the bloody phone so I can ring the Police.’

‘I’m on my way back there,’ he shouted and the line went dead.

My mind raced.  I guessed triple-o was the way to go.  I dialed.

As a voice said, Police, Fire or Ambulance, the shop door swung open. I froze rigid!  Same mirror glasses!  Same leather jacket!  He shut the door, locked it and turned the closed sign round! As he spun to face me, his hand slid into his jacket.  No, not money this time!  The biggest handgun you’ve ever seen outside a Dirty Harry movie!

‘Homicide Police!’  I yelled.  ‘I’m the florist they want!  Trace this call!’

The guy flew across the shop like a combatant in the Crouching Tiger movie.  I dropped the phone and looked frantically around for a weapon.  Not even a pair of scissors!

‘Out the back, now!’ He grunted, grabbing my wrist.  I yanked free, but in the effort, fell to the floor.  ‘Up!’ he snarled, bending close to my ear.  He put the gun barrel against my cheek.  I expected it to be colder than a polar bear’s doodle, but it was actually warm from his body heat!  Being warm didn’t make me feel enthusiastic about it however! 

‘Okay, okay!’ I shouted, adrenaline pumping through my body. I forced myself to my knees.  As he straightened, I grabbed a bundle from under the counter. He gripped my left arm and yanked me up.  With all my strength, I twisted again.  Miraculously his shiny black smooth-soled shoes hit the wet patch on the floor.  He skidded and fell.  His chin hit the edge of the counter.

‘Fuck!’  He cursed.

 As he moved to right himself, I whacked him on the back of the head.  He let out another oath, but went down like a bag of cement!   As he hit the floor his gun went off, shattering the vase on the counter.  Water, red roses and white carnations flew everywhere, but mostly on him.  The gun flew across the floor and landed under a plant stand. He moaned, so I belted him again.  He lay totally still!  God, had I killed him?

I leaned over and listened.  He was making a gurgling sound.  His nose was squashed on the concrete.  Blood oozed across the floor.  It looked like a bucket full. I started to panic, until I realized it was mixing with the spilled water.

He groaned and started to lift his head!  My eyes shot to the gun, but I instantly shelved that idea.  I was no Clint Eastwood.  I hadn’t the foggiest how to fire the goddamned thing.

I grabbed a roll of plastic tape from the shelf and started to bind his hands behind him.  That’s when I noticed the streak of white hair down the back of his head!

‘Gotcha, you bastard!  The photo’s proof.’  He moaned again and tried to roll over, but I put a foot on his back and he slumped down.

‘Bitch!’ He cursed.  ‘You’ve busted my nose.’

‘Stiff!  It’ll heal.  The bloke who got my wreath can’t get air into his lungs ever again!’

I gave him another whack on the head for good measure and he lay still again.

I was taping on his ankles when Jake rushed bellowing in the back door.

‘Georgie!  Georgie!  Oh gees thank god!  You’re all right! When I saw the Beamer out front, I was scared witless. Thought I might be too late.’  Then he spotted my handiwork.  ‘Wow, you got him!  Hell Georgie, he looks kind of dead!  All that blood!  What did you do to him?’

‘He’s not dead, just resting.’

‘But the blood?’

 ‘Blood nose.’

‘Did you clobber him with the vase?  Same flowers as the wreath.’  Jake chuckled.

 ‘No, I bashed him with that bundle of florist wire.  Made a smashing good cosh.’ I was grinning like I’d just won the lottery.

Jake picked up the bundle and tested the weight.  ‘Ooh, heavy,’ he nodded. ‘Then you dumped the flowers on him.’

‘No, actually, his gun went off and broke the vase.’

‘Gun!  What gun?’ Jake’s head swiveled from side to side like a sideshow clown.

I nodded in the direction of the plant stand.  ‘Over there.  Huge thing.’

Jake’s eyes spun to where I was looking and started towards it.

‘No, leave it there.  It’ll have his prints on it,’ I warned. ‘Oh, hell, I forgot!’  I snatched up the phone, but the line was dead.  So much for emergency services.  Instantly, the wail of a siren shattered this thought.  Blue and red flashing lights bounced around the shop as a cop car screamed to a halt out front.

‘Whoopee, the cavalry are here,’ I shouted. ‘Jake, you’d better get the door.  The bastard locked it when he came in.’

As Jake released the lock, two gun-toting, uniform cops belted in.

‘It’s okay, I’m fine,’ I called.  ‘I got him.’

‘Gees, lady, looks like he’s ready for a hearse,’ one of the cops chortled, picking up a rose.

I gave a throaty chuckle.  ‘Poetic justice, I believe.’

The body on the floor started to groan again.  One of the cops heaved him to a sitting position, leaned him against the counter and told him to shut up.

I was telling them about the gun, which they retrieved and bagged, when two Homicide boys turned up and I had to start from scratch.

Detective Meyer listened in amazement as I told my story.  He kept shaking his head and nodding a lot.  ‘Well, I have to tell you, we did find a wreath at a murder scene this morning.  On the corpse, as it happens. Is there any way you could positively identify it as the one you sold our friend here?’

‘Without a doubt,’ I stated.  ‘It’s a little idiosyncrasy I picked up from my Aunt.  I weave a short piece of gold twine into the reverse of every one I make.  Don’t ask me why, I just do.’

‘Should be all we need, but you can check it in the morning.’

My eyes snapped open.  ‘In the morning?’

‘When you both come into Homicide to make an official statement.’

‘Oh, then.’ So much for sleeping in!

Eventually, my would-be killer was cuffed and carted out to the patrol car.

The Homicide guys collected the gun and photo and took off too.

I collapsed into the chair.  ‘Hell, what a day.’

‘Understatement, if you ask me.  You know, Georgie, you could have been as dead as that gangland bloke,’ Jake said, opening the fridge and taking out two Cokes.  ‘You’re still as white as a ghost, you know.  Better get some sugar into you.’

I smiled at him.  ‘You do a First Aid Course?’

‘I know this stuff from Mike.  I told you he’s an Ambulance man.’ 

‘Oh, yeah, I forgot.  Well, all things considered, you probably saved my life you know, Jake.’

He looked stunned.  ‘How do you figure that?’

 ‘I probably wouldn’t have been as keyed up about that bastard if you hadn’t rung me.’

‘Seems to me you handled him like Rambo without any help from me.’

‘Yeah, I did, didn’t I.’ I grinned.

 

The next morning, Jake drove me into St. Kilda Road to make our statements. When we’d finished, Detective Meyer informed us that thanks to our help, Mario Farrugio would be going down for a long time. My identification of the wreath and the gun found in my shop would seal his fate.  The gun, it seemed, could also be linked to several other unsolved gangland murders. The photo was also a valuable piece of evidence.  This latter pleased Jake no end.

One dumb crook, I say.  Who knows, he may have got away with murder, if he hadn’t said it with flowers.

Now I have another problem however.  Do you think I should email the paper again and retract my caustic reprimand, since I just got a call from Detective Derek Meyer asking me out to dinner tonight?  Nah, think I’ll let it ride.  Mind you, Derek doesn’t look at all like Mel Gibson.

 

The End