Crowned and Moldering

“Whatever happens, I’ll follow your lead.” With a wink, he jumped out of the truck. “Wow. Great view from up here.”

It was true, and I rarely stopped to notice. Now I took a long moment to gaze at the coastline spread out before us. The lighthouse was in plain view, of course, but I could also see the dark red roof of the mansion next door.

“What’s that pagoda-looking thing over there?” he asked, pointing toward a small structure with an Asian-style roofline a mile or so down the highway.

“It’s a Chinese temple and museum, one of the oldest buildings in the county. It was built by a group of Chinese immigrants who constructed the railroads during the gold rush.”

“For real? Is it open to the public?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ve got to go there.”

“You should. It’s a peaceful place. And really tiny.”

“So much to see.” He gestured toward the nursery entrance. “Let’s go check things out.”

“Let’s.”

He pushed open the wide wooden gate and let me lead the way into a tangled, rambling garden of beautiful colors and amazing plants. The nursery meandered up the hillside and stretched out over ten acres. There were hidden ponds and a babbling brook or two along the way.

“Oh, man. This place is cool,” he said. “I like the way everything seems overgrown and the plants blend into one another.”

“It looks overgrown, but it’s actually well pla

“I would love to look at something like this every day.”

“You could hire one of their landscapers to design your new property.”

“I just might do that.” He turned his head one way and the other, checking out everything.

Twenty feet inside the gate, we came to a stop and stared at three different pathways. I turned to him. “Which way do you want to go?”

He gri

We headed off to the left, and a few hundred yards later found ourselves in the middle of a wild English garden. Slender foxglove and gladioli wavered in the slight breeze. Yellow bearded irises contrasted with graceful stalks of blue delphiniums and fat pink peonies. In the middle of it all was a brass sundial surrounded by lavender and rosemary.

Twenty yards farther along the path, a jumble of rocks had been pressed together to create the semblance of a terraced hillside. Moss-covered stone steps led up to a koi pond. Beyond the pond, hedgerows separated this area from one of the other gardens.

“I kind of want to live here,” Mac said. “It’s like some sort of hippie fantasy land.”

“Next time we come, we’ll take the path that runs along the creek. It feeds into a lily pond, and you would swear you’re in a fairy tale.”

“The Frog Prince?”

“That’s the one,” I said with a laugh. “I always expect to see a big, fat toad hop up and start talking.”

We strolled for another few minutes.

“Why are there three separate paths?” he asked.

“They each showcase different types of plants and flowers. For instance, closer to the pond, there are grasses and tropical plants. The third path features a lot of cacti and succulents. It’s got a real Zen feeling to it.”

We walked in silence for a few minutes. Mac stopped to look at a statue of Buddha perched in the middle of a verdant mound surrounded by ferns and cyclamen.

“I get a lot of inspiration when I come here,” I said.

He nodded. “I can see why.”

We rounded a small copse of bay laurel trees and I grabbed his arm to stop him, pointing toward the woman digging up a withered azalea a few yards ahead.

“That’s Denise,” I whispered.

“Go for it,” he murmured.

I didn’t know why I was so nervous. Probably because I had no plan and no idea what to say. I took a deep breath and tried to school my features, whatever that meant. “Hi, Denise.”

She whipped around, clutching her shovel, until she recognized me. “Oh. Hi, Sha

“I know. I was here a few weeks ago, but it must’ve been your day off.”

“Probably. I do get them once in a blue moon.” She pulled off the Australian-bush-style canvas sun hat she was wearing and brushed a few strands of her light brown hair off her face. “Everything going okay with you?”

I shrugged. “It’s been a weird week.”

“You’re telling me.” She seemed to brace herself as she gripped the long handle of her shovel. “I heard you were at the mansion when they found Lily.”

“Yeah. It was pretty bad.” I glanced at Mac. “This is Mac Sullivan. He’s the one who bought the lighthouse mansion.”

“Nice to meet you. I’ve read all your books.”

“I appreciate it, thanks. Nice to meet you, too.”

She pulled off her right glove, wiped her hand on her jeans, and reached over to shake his hand. “Sorry if I got dirt on you.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he said. “Your garden is fantastic.”

She beamed a smile. “Thank you. We love it.”

“So, I guess you’ve talked to the police,” I said, plunging forward.

“Yeah.” She shook her head, looking a little dazed. “Not a fun experience.”

“I know what you mean,” I said. “No matter how i

“That’s exactly how I felt.” She chuckled ruefully and added, “You would know about that, I guess.”

She was referring to my recent involvement in several murders and Eric’s suspicions about me. And while I hated to think about those circumstances, I was willing to use them to get Denise to talk. “I know all about it. But the police would never suspect you.”

“Right. Chief Jensen said I could be a lot of help to him, so I just tried to think back to that time and told him everything I could remember.”

“I talked to him, too. All I could remember about Lily was that you and she were such good friends. She was lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, Sha

“I knew her a little,” I said. “Not like you did, of course. But when she disappeared, I took it so personally. And it hurt.”

“Exactly.” Denise struggled to gulp back tears. “Do you remember how she had the lead in the school play our senior year? And she’d applied for a bunch of scholarships because she was determined to escape those parents of hers and make a good life for herself.”

“That’s what Sean told me.”

“I felt betrayed. Abandoned.” Denise stared up at the sky, lost in thought. Finally, she said, “And now to find out that she never left. I feel so awful for thinking all those things about her. That she was only concerned about herself, or that maybe she just gave up on everything.”

“I remember thinking, How could she run away before the Spring Festival? Her understudy had to take over her role in Grease.”

Denise nodded. “I was so mad at her.”

We stood in silence for a long moment until I said, “If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m around.”

“You’re sweet, Sha

“Did you know the police talked to Mr. Dain?”

Her eyes darkened and her lips tightened with resentment. “Good. Maybe they’ll arrest him.”

“Was he your counselor?”

“No, thank goodness. But he was Lily’s.” She grabbed the shovel handle and thrust the steel cutting blade over and over into the soft ground, as though she were attacking the dirt. “I could kill him for the things he said to her.”

*   *   *

Once Denise and I were finished talking, I had to shake off the sad vibes and get down to the business of shopping. I bought three heavy bags of potting soil, six colorful pots with bases, a new trowel, a pair of gloves, and a dozen four-inch containers of herbs I pla