The Garden Of Eden And Other Criminal Delights

The Garden of Eden

“The Garden of Eden” is an original Peter Decker/Rina Lazarus tale written specifically for this anthology. It combines my love of gardening with my love of mystery writing. I gave my protagonist, Rina, gardening as a hobby because she’s a nurturing person, and planting a garden is a way to give back to Mother Earth. The story deals with the search for the almighty buck when true treasures are found in the most unexpected places.

It began as something recreational, a way to pass the time pleasantly, but then, as insidious as a burrowing maggot, it turned into an addiction. By six months, every room in the house was a biological testament to Rina Decker’s hobby, from the bedrooms and bathrooms to the living room and the laundry room, plants, sprouts, shoots, and cultivars crowding out space once reserved for human inhabitants. Given the dire circumstances, she knew she’d have to act, but the decision was torturous. Which ones merited the honor of being houseplants, and which ones had to be sacrificed for the good of the family?

“I feel like I’m living in the Congo,” Decker complained as he sipped coffee at the breakfast table. He was about to tackle the Sunday paper, though he harbored little hope of finishing it. Something always came up.

“What’s wrong with the Congo?” Rina countered. “It’s foreign, it’s exotic… Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Sucked out by the miscreants in the streets of Los Angeles, thank you very much. God and Koolaire have given us creature comforts for a reason, Rina. If I wanted to live in a tropical rain forest, I’d pick a more idyllic spot than the San Fernando Valley. The house has become unbearable-way too hot, dripping wet, and teeming with bugs.”

“That’s because you leave the back door open.”

“I leave the back door open because I’m a big guy and I need circulation. Otherwise I drown in my own sweat.”

That was true. Peter was six-four, 230 pounds, and in great shape. The bulge of his winter gut usually melted away in the more active summer months. The only hints of his age in the sixth decade were the increasing streaks of white coursing through his ginger-colored hair and mustache. Rina’s husband still cut a handsome figure. She said, “I know you need circulation. That’s why the ceiling fans are on all the time.”

“All they do is blow around the hot air. We need air-conditioning, darlin’.”

“Orchids are sensitive.”

“So are husbands.” The ribbing was good-natured, but there was a lot of truth in it. “Look. I can tolerate the bathrooms. Bathrooms are usually wet and hot. And so are kitchens and laundry rooms. I’ll even acquiesce to the living room and den. But I put my foot down with the bedrooms. Even Hannah’s complaining. She feels that you’ve expropriated her space.”

“That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing in her room except a few African violets.”

“Fifteen, at last count.”

“They barely fill up her windowsill.”

Decker took a deep breath in an attempt to harness patience. “Rina, both your daughter and I are glad you found something that taps into your instinct to nurture and that pleases your aesthetic eye.”

Rina stifled a smile. “It’s my calling, Peter.”

“Fantastic!” Decker said wryly. “Everyone should have a passion. Unfortunately, instead of a passion, I have a job… a demanding job. I’ve got to work, which means I’ve got to sleep. It’s either your Bletilla striata or me.”

Rina saw the desperate look on her husband’s face. He had reached his limit. “I’ll clear the bedrooms. I think I have a millimeter’s worth of space on a shelf in the laundry area.”

Inwardly, Decker chided himself for his laziness. “I know I’ve been promising to frame the prefab greenhouse.” He wanted to add, The one that’s taking up most of the room in the garage so that my vintage Porsche has been relegated to the driveway under a measly cover. But years of marriage had taught him a little tact. He didn’t know why he kept putting off the construction of the greenhouse. It wouldn’t take more than a half-day to build it. Maybe, psychologically, he was afraid of what would happen if she had even more room for plants. “And I appreciate that you haven’t nagged me to build it even though we bought it months ago.”

“You work hard and put up with long, long hours. Your time should be your own.” Rina was using her best self-sacrificing voice. “That’s precisely why I took up gardening. To occupy my time during those long, long hours-”

“All right, all right!” Decker broke in. He covered his face with his hands, then looked at her between his fingers. “Just promise me you won’t turn into a dotty old lady like what’s-her-name.”

“Cecily Eden.”

Decker smiled. “Yeah, dotty old Cecily with the eponymous garden. Is Eden really her last name, or did she change it to match her obsession?”

“As far as I know, it’s her given last name, and she’s not dotty. She’s very sharp-a retired microbiologist. She always jokes that she went from growing aerobes to growing Aerides.” Rina laughed out loud. When Decker didn’t respond, she gently nudged his shoulder and said, “A little inside garden joke.”

Decker tried to remain serious but finally gave in and laughed. She was so cheerful this morning. Rina was still his twenty-six-year-old bride, though she had climbed over the forty mark a few years ago. In the past, they had been mistaken for father and daughter, even though he was only twelve years older than she was. Rina had a beautiful complexion, and her hair was still black, although he rarely saw it in its full glory. Traditional Orthodox Jewish convention dictated that married women cover their locks whenever they went out in public. Lately, she’d taken to wearing big straw sun hats and goofy sunglasses.

“You really should see Cecily’s garden, Peter. It’s magnificent. She has the most unusual plants. The crowning jewel in her backyard is an imported Chinese sacred tree. It’s like a magnolia but has these smaller white blossoms with an intoxicating citrus aroma. It’s so green and gorgeous. It’s from China, it blooms in the fall, just when most plants are fading away.”

“I’m sure it’s a sight to behold.”

Rina clucked her tongue. “How ironic that you’re being sarcastic. When we first married, you were the one who communed daily with nature, Mr. Cowboy.”

“Yeah, but I never brought the horses into the house. Do you need help with the plants, darlin’?”

Rina stared at him, then broke into a grin. “You want to garden with me? That would be great!”

Decker backtracked. “Uh, I meant, do you need help taking the plants out of the bedrooms and into the laundry room?”

Rina smiled to hide her disappointment. “No, I’m fine. It’s not exactly strenuous work.”

Now she looked dejected. To Decker, gardening meant chopping down trees or hacking away brush, not transplanting cultivars. He took her hand and spoke in earnest. “You know, Rina, it’s a beautiful day. How about if you clear the bedrooms of the foliage and bring all the plants outside while I finally build the prefab greenhouse. We can christen it together.”

Rina managed a weak smile. He was trying. “You don’t have to build it today, Peter. I can cram the plants into the laundry room.”

“No, no, no. I’m determined.” Decker stood up, a small physical step that signified the morphing of a theoretical idea into action. “C’mon. Hannah’s at Julie’s. Let’s spend some time together outdoors. You garden and I’ll build. Afterward, I’ll pick some lemons and you’ll make lemonade. Then I’ll go get some sandwiches from the deli and we’ll watch the Dodgers game together. How does that sound?”

This time Rina’s smile was genuine. “Actually, it sounds wonderful.”

“Great! Let’s get to it!” Decker picked up the paper and headed for the compost pile. One Sunday Times would make a week’s worth of excellent mulch.

Tuesday from twelve to two had been earmarked as Rina’s weekly get-together with Cecily Eden, and she couldn’t wait to tell her elderly friend about the newly built greenhouse. Rina was pretty sure that, to celebrate the construction, Cecily would insist on giving her all sorts of plants and would spurn any proffered payments. In order to offset this inequity, Rina had come to her friend’s house armed with a plate of chocolate-chip cookies fresh from the oven.

As usual, she walked up the driveway to the backyard gate and automatically turned the knob. This time she found it locked. Usually, Cecily left it open when she knew Rina was coming. It was good that the old woman was finally taking precautions. Rina would often scold her: “You shouldn’t be so trusting, Cecily.”

The old woman would laugh. “At my age, what does it matter? If anyone breaks in, he can take whatever he wants.”

Backtracking over the driveway, Rina went around to the front door. Cecily lived in a ranch house built in the fifties, what Realtors called midcentury style. Her kitchen and bathroom still had original tile, and her furniture had lived through enough years to be considered retro. The old woman kept the place spotless. Having worked with germs all her life, she was a stickler for cleanliness.

The structure wasn’t much bigger than a bungalow, but the property was over a half-acre. Rina rang the bell, and when no one answered, she rang it again. She knocked but still got no response.

Strange, Rina thought, because she knew that Cecily was expecting her. As she was about to walk away, almost as an afterthought, she gave a quick jiggle to the knob. She was shocked that the door yielded with the turn of her wrist.

The gate was locked… but the door was open.

Instinctively, Rina knew that something was wrong. She should have called Peter, but what was the sense of disturbing him at work before she had proof that things were amiss? As a lieutenant, Peter had his hands full of mishap and mayhem. She didn’t want to add to the mix unless necessary.

“Cecily?” she called out. “It’s Rina. Are you home?”

She stepped inside a tidy living room abloom with spring flowers-roses, lilies, irises, daffodils, tulips, and Cecily’s prized orchids. The couch had been upholstered in old floral fabric that looked something like wisteria vines through trellises. Two wicker chairs sat opposite the sofa. The carpet was green; the walls were peach-colored and plastered with botanical artwork-plants and flowers rendered in oil paintings, watercolors, crayon, pencil, charcoal, pastels, every possible drawing medium. Some were good, some were bad, and lots were mediocre. It was hard to enjoy any individual work, because there were so many of them hung chock-ablock. Still, Rina was always effusive when Cecily presented her latest acquisition picked up at a junk shop or flea market.

I’ve been collecting them for years, Cecily would say.

Again Rina called out the old woman’s name. When she didn’t get an answer, she began to worry, although nothing seemed out of place. She walked through the dining room, setting the cookies on the table, and went into the kitchen. Maybe Cecily had been called away suddenly. Rina knew that the old woman had two grown daughters and several grandchildren. Cecily had mentioned them in passing; nothing extensive, but nothing to indicate that the relationships were strained.

“Cecily?” Rina walked through the kitchen and laundry room, then out the back door. “Cecily, are you home?”

It was mid-May, and the garden was in full bloom, a riot of colors and heavy with fragrance. Cecily had divided and subdivided her lot, creating ecosystems and microclimates connected seamlessly by pathways and lanes. She had placed her rose gardens, bulb gardens, and cutting gardens where there was an abundance of sun and some partial shade. Tucked into a back corner was the Zen garden, with a pavilion and a small fishpond covered by barely visible netting that kept out the predators- stray cats, squirrels, raccoons, and herons. The other corner housed her greenhouse. The orchard took up the rest of the space, giant avocados providing shade for aromatic citrus trees. In the center was the rare Chinese sacred tree. A year ago, Cecily and her gardener had built a bench around its trunk. It was one of her favorite spots for reading and relaxing.

It was there that Rina discovered the body.

Gasping, she rushed over and felt for a pulse-for any signs of life-but she knew it was hopeless. There was no heartbeat and no breathing. The pupils were dilated and fixed, her empty eyes brazenly staring into the sun. Still, Rina called 911. Then she called her husband.

The investigator from the coroner’s office was named Gloria, a woman in her mid-thirties who had recently come to the profession. Wearing traditional dark scrubs emblazoned with CORONER’S INVESTIGATOR in yellow, she got up from her kneeling position and snapped off her latex gloves. She looked at Rina. “Do you know if she had any health problems?”

Rina shook her head.

Decker said, “Find anything sinister other than the bruise on her left temple?”

“Nope, and the bruise was probably caused by her falling and hitting her head on the ground. Nothing to indicate blunt-force trauma. She was an old woman. She must have had a doctor.”

“Henry Goldberg,” Decker said. “He’s a cardiologist. I found out his name from one of Cecily’s daughters. He’s on his way.”

“Great,” Gloria said. “I think I’m done here. You can go over the body if you want, but I’m feeling that she died of natural causes. If Dr. Goldberg feels comfortable signing off on the death certificate, that’s fine with me. That way the next of kin can call up the funeral home, and they can come pick up the body. If not, have the guys bring her to the morgue, and one of our doctors will sign her off.”

“No autopsy?” Rina asked.

“Not unless her physician or her children demand it.”

“Thanks,” Decker said.

“You’re welcome, Lieutenant.”

After Gloria left, Decker turned to his wife. “What have you been waiting to tell me?”

Rina bit her thumbnail. “It’s probably stupid.”

“It probably isn’t. What’s bothering you?”

“Cecily usually unlocks the back gate for me when she knows I’m coming. I tell her not to, but she does it anyway. This time she locked the gate… but the front door was unlocked. I find that odd.”

Decker agreed. “What do you know about her family?”

Rina shook her head. “Two daughters. The elder one is married with children.”

“Edwina Lettiger.”

“Yes, Edwina, that’s the one. I didn’t know her last name. Cecily would mention her occasionally, usually in connection with her grandchildren. The younger daughter is Meredith. I don’t know a thing about her other than her name.”

“Did Cecily ever talk about tension between her daughters and herself?”

“No. Why?”

“Between you and me, I looked around the house. Everything’s neat and in place.”

“Cecily was tidy. She used to say it came from years of working in a lab.”

“Except one of her bedroom dresser drawers wasn’t shut tight. A piece of a sweater was wedged between the drawer and the framework. It was a heavy sweater. You know how warm the days have been. Why would she be looking in her sweater drawer?”

“Maybe it’s been wedged that way for a long time.”

“All the other drawers were shut tight. This one drawer doesn’t fit with her image as tidy, does it?”

“Maybe she just never noticed it. You probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t been looking.”

“Of course.”

Again Rina bit her nail. “What is it, Peter? Do you think I might have interrupted a robbery?”

“Possibly. Someone heard you yelling over the gate, bolted out the front door, and didn’t lock it.”

“I didn’t see anyone.”

“That doesn’t mean there wasn’t anyone. Did you happen to hear a car take off?”

“Honestly, I don’t remember. Was the door jimmied open?”

“I didn’t find any obvious pry marks, and the lock was a dead-bolt. I think if someone was inside the house, he or she got in with a key.”

“Or Cecily could have let them in.”

“Of course. Maybe I’m on the wrong track totally. Still, I’d like to find out who had a key to her house.”

“I’m sure her daughters do.” Rina made a face. “I can’t believe they’d hurt her. And didn’t the coroner’s investigator say it looked like natural causes?”

“Sure, it could have been a heart attack. But what if the heart attack was brought on by a bad argument? What if she didn’t fall to the ground but was pushed? We have an unlocked door, a locked gate, and a drawer that’s askew in an otherwise compulsively neat bedroom. I’ve been a cop too long not to ask certain questions, and my first one is who has a key to her house.” Decker looked at the garden gate. Two distraught women had corraled Gloria, the coroner’s investigator. They spoke to her while waving their arms frantically. Decker put his arm around his wife. “Go on home, honey. We’ll talk later. Right now it’s time to meet the next of kin.”

“This is dreadful!” Meredith sniffed back tears. “Just terrible.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dr. Goldberg, the cardiologist, told Cecily’s daughters. He had shown up five minutes after the daughters. He was in his sixties, a short, slight man with long tapered fingers. “I’ve handled many patients in my years. Your mother had a wonderful spirit. I think it was her attitude that helped her last this long.” He turned to Decker. “She’d had two prior heart attacks.”

Edwina blotted her wet eyes with a tissue. Her gaze went from the doctor to Decker. “She gardened because she could no longer rock climb or go white-water rafting.”

“Ah,” Decker said. He observed the sisters, noting that though there was a strong familial resemblance-both women had oval faces and hazel eyes-they were nothing alike. Edwina, who drove a new 450SL Mercedes, was precise and meticulous in her appearance: dark business suit and heels, clipped and styled blond hair, long manicured nails. Meredith wore a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Her hair was shoulder-length, brunette streaked with gray. She drove an ancient Dodge Dart. They were in their forties, not more than a couple of years apart. “Your mother was very active in the past?”

“Until her first heart attack,” Edwina said.

Goldberg said, “The second one came a year later. That was ten years ago. We stabilized her, but at her age…”

Everyone nodded solemnly.

“Mom was one of a kind. She did exactly what she wanted to do and always encouraged us to do the same.”

“She certainly had a love of beauty,” Decker answered. “This place is paradise.”

“Mom’s version of paradise.” Edwina smiled. “I live in a townhouse overlooking the ocean. No grass, no yard, just a terrace with a couple of potted cacti and a stunning view of the waves. That’s my version of paradise.”

“That’s pretty great also,” Decker said.

“If there’s anything else I can do for anyone, don’t hesitate to call me,” Dr. Goldberg said. “I must be getting back. I have patients waiting for me.”

Edwina’s smile was brief. “She spoke very fondly of you, Doctor. Thank you for everything.”

“It was a pleasure being her doctor. Again, my condolences.”

“Thank you,” Edwina answered.

A forlorn Meredith watched while the men from the funeral home loaded her mother into a van. She shook her head as tears leaked from her eyes. “I can’t believe she’s gone!”

“She was old, Merry,” Edwina said. “It wasn’t unexpected.”

“It’s still a shock, Ed! She wasn’t hospitalized or anything like that.”

“I should start making arrangements.”

“What do you mean by ‘I,’ sis?”

“ ‘We,’ then. We need to start making arrangements. I suppose the smartest thing to do would be to contact Mom’s lawyer.”

Meredith said, “Mr. Mortimer?”

“Yes, Mr. Mortimer. I’m sure Mom had specific instructions. I know she had a will.” Edwina handed Decker a business card. “My phone number, if you should need to reach me.”

“Why would he need to reach you?” Meredith asked.

“It’s a formality, Merry.”

“Actually, I do have a few questions, if you don’t mind,” Decker said. “For both of you.”

“What kind of questions?” Meredith asked.

Edwina checked her watch. “How long?”

“Not too long,” Decker said. “Who, besides yourselves, has a key to the house?”

“What do you mean?” asked Meredith.

Edwina glanced at her sister. “Why do you ask?”

“Just trying to button down a few details. Anyone other than you two have a key to the house?”

“No.” Meredith looked at her sister. “Right?”

“The gardener,” Edwina answered.

“He does?” Meredith’s eyes went wide. “Thanks for clueing me in.”

“Mom gave it to him, Merry. I wasn’t consulted.”

“You didn’t approve?” Decker asked.

“I just thought it was weird, but Mom was insistent. She claimed he was here more than either of us.” Edwina turned to Decker. “Why are you so interested in keys?”

“The front door was unlocked when my wife came over. Do you know if your mother had anything valuable stashed-”

“Oh, dear!” Meredith shrieked. She bolted toward the house.

Decker ran after her. “Hold on, hold on!” He caught up with her at the bedroom. “Don’t touch anything! This could be a crime scene!”

Meredith folded her arms across her chest. “Mom kept cash in one of her dresser drawers. I want to see if it’s still there!”

Edwina caught up with them. Anxiously, she asked, “Is it there?”

“I don’t know. He stopped me from checking.”

“Okay…” Decker took out several pairs of latex gloves and handed them to the ladies. “Carefully show me where your mother kept the cash. Please be neat about it.”

Edwina slipped on the gloves and went right to the sweater drawer. She opened it with a tug. Meticulously, she rooted through the contents, picking up a stack of folded sweaters and sliding her hand to the back. Her face paled as she shook her head. “It’s not here!”

“What do you mean it’s not here? Where else could it be?” Meredith bent down, about to check the drawer herself, but Decker stopped her.

“Can I look for the both of you?” he asked. “If a burglary took place, I’d like to prevent any contamination of evidence.”

“Yes, yes! Hurry up!” Meredith scolded.

“You two watch me.” He went through the sweater drawer. There was nothing inside it but clothing. “Is there any other place she could have put the money?”

“She’s always kept money there!” Meredith said. “That was her hiding place!”

Edwina chimed in, “Dammit, I kept telling her to put it in investments! Something that would grow. Mom could be so stubborn sometimes.”

“All the time!” Meredith was crying now. “I was counting on that money to pay off some loans!” She quickly gasped. “Not that I was thinking about my mother’s death to get money!”

Decker nodded but filed her words in his memory bank.

“I know what you’re saying,” Edwina said. “Losing all that cash is a complete and utter waste!”

“Exactly!” Meredith blew her nose. “Exactly.”

“I’m going to check the other drawers now,” Decker said. “Watch me, all right?” Twenty minutes of careful searching proved fruitless. He stood up, rolled his shoulders, and shook his head. “How much cash are we talking about?”

“Twenty thousand dollars,” Edwina answered.

Decker had to refrain from choking. “Twenty thousand dollars? Cash?”

“Can you believe that?” Edwina snarled. “It is infuriating! I should have known something like this was going to happen.”

Decker looked around. The room overflowed with flowers and plants, dozens of botanical drawings and paintings plastered all over the walls. It made Rina’s obsession look moderate.

“Tell me about this gardener,” he said.

Meredith was sobbing too hard to talk. Edwina bit her lip. “His name is Lee Kwan. He’s about seventy years old. He’s small and slight, and Mom has known him for over twenty years. I can’t believe he’d ever rob her, let alone hurt her.”

“What about the lawyer you mentioned?” Decker asked. “Mr. Mortimer. Could he have a key?”

“It’s possible,” Edwina said.

“What’s the name of the firm?” Decker asked.

“Mortimer, Dratsky, and Farrington,” Edwina said.

Decker wrote it down. “Anyone else who might have a key? Think hard!” After both women pleaded ignorance, Decker said, “I’ll need to speak with Mr. Kwan. Would either of you have a phone number or address for him?”

Edwina went over to the window and drew back the curtains. “Today’s your lucky day, Lieutenant Decker. Kwan’s truck just pulled up to the curb.”

The man seemed completely confused as to why Decker was talking to him. His dismay also could have been the result of his limited English. Kwan’s eyes were moist. “Terrible, terrible. She was nice woman.”

Edwina was right: Lee was old and slight of build, but there was muscle and sinew in his body.

“You have a key to her house, Mr. Kwan?” Decker said.

“Yes, I have key. You want the key?”

Decker said, “That would be helpful, thank you. Have you ever used it to get into Mrs. Eden’s house?”

“No, I never use it. Why would I use it?”

“Why did Mrs. Eden give it to you?”

“I don’t know,” Kwan answered. “I never ask. She give me key. I take key. You want it?” He fished it off a sizable key ring and dropped it into Decker’s waiting palm. “Here is key.”

“Thank you, sir.” Decker smiled. “Can you tell me where you were this morning, Mr. Kwan?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “I work all morning. Three houses: one in Porter Ranch, two in Canoga Park. Why you ask where was I?”

“Just routine questions. I need the addresses of the houses.”

The gardener stared at him. Then he shrugged and said, “Yes, I give you address. I don’t see Miss Eden at all today. Maybe if I do, I can help her. Now is too late. How she die?”

“Heart attack,” Decker said.

“Yes, yes. She has bad heart. A couple times she stays outside when it’s too hot. I tell her to go inside, but she don’t listen. Only laugh. She is very stubborn.”

“That’s what her daughters told me about her,” Decker said.

“See, I tell you the truth.”

Spoken with vehemence. He was anxious but probably because he was being probed. Decker handed Kwan a blank piece of paper from his notebook. “Can you write down the addresses of the places you were this morning?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Anyone notice you at work?” Decker asked.

“They see me,” Kwan said. “I don’t know if they notice me. I’m gardener. Sometimes they see me, they wave. Sometimes no. Only Miss Eden really notice me. Only she take time to talk to me. She ask me about my children. She give me lemonade when it is hot. She pick me flowers for my wife. She ask me questions about her plants. She give me two drawing of orchid from her house because I say I like them. I don’t ask for them, she just give them to me.” His face grew solemn. “You see big green tree in the back?”

“The magnolia?”

“It is Chinese sacred tree. Once it was against the law to take it out of China. I get one for her because she is special lady. She thank me over and over. We planted it together fifteen year ago when it is fifteen-gallon tree. Now look at it. Just a year ago we build bench.” Again his eyes moistened. He scribbled on the piece of paper and handed it back to Decker. “Very special lady. I will miss her.”

“You can’t search Kwan’s house or something?” Meredith shrieked over the phone. “It’s been over two weeks since my mother’s death, and the money’s still missing!”

Decker responded in a calm voice, “I realize you’re frustrated, Ms. Eden-”

“I’m a lot more than frustrated,” Meredith broke in. “I’m pissed! Just search his house! If you don’t find it, I’ll shut up!”

“Ma’am, I don’t have any cause to search his house. Mr. Kwan was where he said he was-working all morning. All three homes verified his presence. The man doesn’t have a record, all his immigration papers are in order, he has a Social Security number, and he’s paid his taxes. As far as I can determine, he’s a model citizen.”

“His lack of record means nothing! The man had a key. He could have burgled the house when my mother wasn’t home, and the neighbors wouldn’t notice, because he worked there on a regular basis.”

“Do you have any reason to suspect that he knew about the money? I mean, as far as you know, only you and your sister were aware that the stash was there, right?”

There was silence over the line.

“Ms. Eden?”

Meredith said, “Well, even if he didn’t know it was there, he could have come earlier and seen she was dead. Then, on an impulse, he could have burgled the house and found the money. Or… or maybe Mom even told him about it.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because my mother was a senile old woman. I don’t know. Can’t you just check out his bank account or something like that? See if he made a big deposit?”

“Not without probable cause, ma’am. No judge would issue a warrant.” Decker paused. “If you have verification of the existence of the cash, maybe your mother had insurance-”

“No, she didn’t have insurance! If she wanted the money safe, she would have put it in the bank.”

“Then why didn’t she do just that?”

“Who knows and who cares? The bottom line is it’s gone. And I know that this Kwan character had something to do with it.”

“If you really think that is the case, Ms. Eden, you might consider hiring a private detective-”

The loud click stung his ear. She had hung up on him. Decker stowed the cellular in the inside pocket of his jacket. He shouldn’t be talking on the phone and driving at the same time. It served him right for answering the call in the first place. He pulled into his driveway and turned off the motor, still thinking about the missing money. The cash could have been stolen a long time ago. Then he thought about that bit of sweater peeking out from the drawer. The cash might have been gone, but someone had been looking for the stash very recently.

He unlocked the front door and called out Rina’s name. He didn’t get an answer, but he knew where she was-in the new greenhouse. He walked inside the plastic shed, stacked with exotic plants. “Yo.”

She turned around, her face coated with mist. “Hi, there. Can you believe how big my babies have grown in just a few weeks? I know where Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors came from.”

Decker regarded the orchids, ferns, African violets, and bromeliads. “It’s amazing, what you’ve done. It’s beautiful.”

Rina beamed. “Thanks.”

“Where’s Hannah?”

“At a friend’s house, doing a science project. She’s sleeping over. We could either go out to the deli for dinner by ourselves or have something here, just the two of us.”

“What do you prefer?”

“We’ve got steaks in the freezer. I can whip up a salad and open a bottle of cabernet. Feel like barbecuing?”

“Fantastic.” He threw his arm around his wife’s shoulders, and together they walked into the kitchen. Their domestic life had seen rare interludes of tranquillity. Decker’s older daughter seemed happily married, the boys were doing well in college back east, Hannah was growing up, and Rina was happy with her life. She had been teaching part-time at the local Jewish high school for several years now. A couple of semesters ago, she had started a garden club. Initially, the school had laughed at her but had thrown her and her three students a bone in the form of a dry plot of land that was collecting weeds. Within a few months, the ground was giving forth broccoli, peas, brussels sprouts, carrots, and a variety of lettuces and cabbages. Nobody was laughing anymore.

Rina and her loyal band of followers, now up to five members, had just finished plowing under the dying vegetables to give the ground some nutrients for the fall planting. Right before summer, she had marched into the principal’s office and asked to teach an elective class in agriculture next year:

“Kids should know that food doesn’t grow in supermarkets.”

Yesterday she’d been talking about getting a couple of chickens. Decker didn’t know whether she was serious or not.

“I got an interesting call this afternoon,” she told him over dinner. “From a man named Arthur Mortimer.”

Decker stopped chewing momentarily. “Cecily Eden’s lawyer.”

“Exactly. Where do you know him from?”

He took a sip of wine. “His name came up when I interviewed Cecily’s daughters. What does he want with you?”

“Well, it seems that I’m in Cecily’s will.”

“Really?” A pause. “Hmmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Decker said. “Nothing at all.”

“I don’t buy that. What’s the problem, Peter?”

“The daughters are a strange pair.”

“Did they ever find the missing money?”

“The alleged missing money. And no, they didn’t find it.”

“Why alleged, Peter? Weren’t you the one who first noticed the bit of sweater sticking out of the drawer?”

“Yes, that would be me. You know, I did a little research online about the women. Didn’t find a thing on Meredith Eden, but I did find out a heap about Edwina, particularly her husband. His name is Garth Lettiger, and he was indicted for embezzlement about five years ago.”

“Was he convicted?”

“No.”

“So maybe he was innocent.”

“If a major firm brings those kinds of charges against you, you’re never completely innocent.”

“Maybe he was a sacrificial lamb?”

“Maybe the lawyers just couldn’t make the charges stick. I wonder if Garth knew about Cecily’s money and put his wife up to something.”

“Edwina stole the cash from her mother?”

“Maybe she rationalized that it was a loan. She didn’t seem shocked that the money was missing.”

“You think Edwina killed her mother?”

“No, I’m not saying that. There’s no evidence that Cecily died of anything but a heart attack. I’m just thinking that maybe Edwina helped herself to the money a long time ago and just never told her mother or sister about it.”

“Ripping off her own mother?”

“Who better?” Decker sliced off another piece of rib eye. He had cooked it perfectly: medium rare, with a good crust on the outside. “Or maybe Cecily gave Edwina money to help with her husband’s legal defense and never told Meredith about it. Or maybe one of them stole the money from under my nose. I wasn’t keeping an eye on them all the time.”

“That still doesn’t explain why the sweater drawer wasn’t closed properly. And it doesn’t explain why the gate was locked and the front door was open. All that happened before the sisters arrived.”

Decker thought a moment. “Then maybe one of them arrived before you did, Nina. Seeing her mother dead, she decided to help herself to the cash. But before she could call in the death, you showed up.”

“That’s absolutely morbid.”

“I’ve known families who raided the safe-deposit box as soon as the body was declared dead, in order to prevent the IRS from seizing the assets. If Edwina or Meredith had been there before you, it would explain the front door being unlocked, the gate being locked, and the sweater sticking out. I wonder if either of them made any big deposits in the bank lately.”

“Could you check that out?”

“I don’t know why a judge would give me access. I have no proof that either of them was stealing. Just a hunch.” He took another sip of cabernet. “Be careful, Rina. Usually, family members don’t like non-family members swiping what they consider to be their inheritance.”

“I won’t be the only non-family member. Mr. Kwan was in Cecily’s will as well.”

This time Decker put down the fork. “Huh! How do you know that?”

“Because I asked Mr. Mortimer if I was the only nonrelative who’d be there.” She swirled her wine. “I keep wondering why on earth I’d be in Cecily’s will. I can only conclude that Cecily willed Mr. Kwan and me many of her plants. I’m sure her daughters will be happy to get rid of them.”

“That makes sense. Also makes me feel better. It’s true. Cecily’s daughters wouldn’t want them. I’m not sure I want them.” Decker shook his head. “Just what we need. More plants.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, what I’d do with all of her plants.” Rina smiled. “I’ve come up with several ideas.”

“Uh-oh!”

“Don’t worry, Peter. Except for the rare ones, I wouldn’t keep them.”

Decker grinned. “A rare burst of common sense.”

“Stop that.” Rina sipped her wine. “One of my ideas was to donate them to the Arboretum. We could take a tax write-off.”

“Beautiful.”

“Or… I’ve been thinking about building a greenhouse at school. What do you think?”

“That’s a thought.” Decker looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Who’s going to build it?”

Rina winked at him. Decker pretended not to notice.

In a brown long-sleeved dress, legs crossed at the ankles, Rina tried to look innocuous and inconspicuous as she sat upright in the chair provided by Arthur Mortimer, Esquire. Lee Kwan sat next to her, dressed in a khaki uniform, his white hair slicked back off his forehead. His face was blank, as were his eyes. He hadn’t spoken a word since coming in the office.

Rina regarded the family members, who looked more anxious than somber. There was Edwina Lettiger in her sensible black dress and her husband, Garth, in his black suit. Their twenty-something daughters, Lily and Brooke, were dressed in dark clothing that dramatically set off their long white-blond hair. Tall and lithe, the girls seemed more excited than nervous. Meredith Eden, garbed in a black shirt and pants, sat completely isolated, with red-rimmed eyes and a scowl on her face.

Cecily had planned well for this day, writing a will to avoid probate court. Her instructions were clear. Each of her granddaughters was awarded fifty thousand dollars in cash. The girls screamed upon hearing the news and hugged each other. The rest of Cecily’s estate-her house and its contents, all of her stocks and bonds, as well as the remaining cash in her accounts-was to be divided equally between her two daughters.

“Cash” turned out to be a significant wad: three hundred thousand dollars. Both sisters gasped when they heard the amount. With big smiles, they ran to each other and hugged like long-lost lovers. It seemed odd to Rina that Cecily would keep twenty thousand dollars in cash in a dresser drawer when she had so much in the bank and in a brokerage account. She couldn’t help but think that maybe the sisters had made up the entire story. But what would be the point of doing that-of pointing a finger at Lee Kwan-if they couldn’t file an insurance claim?

Maybe Cecily had kept cash on hand to buy exotic plants or flea-market artwork.

But twenty thousand dollars?

The whole thing was very odd.

The family seemed to barely hear as Mr. Mortimer awarded Mr. Kwan all of Cecily’s potted plants and flowers. Nor did they care when Rina was gifted the artwork: all of the paintings, drawings, charcoals, watercolors, and prints that hung on Cecily’s walls.

Sixty-three pieces in all. Rina was stunned. Yes, she had expressed an interest in the collection whenever Cecily had presented her latest purchase, but it was just to be polite. Kwan leaned over and whispered to her, “I’m glad she give it to you and not them. You love plant like she did.”

Rina loved plants, but not all those pictures of plants. What in the world was she going to do with sixty-three framed pieces? But she smiled and pretended to be very grateful.

Kwan whispered, “Any orchid you want? I don’t have room for all of them.”

“Maybe a few. Are there any pictures that you want?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t have room.”

Neither did Rina. After the assets had been distributed, everyone stood up. Kwan said, “I come by next Sunday to pick up the plants.”

Edwina was grinning. Inheriting such a large amount of money had lifted her spirits. “You’ll have to come by sooner, Mr. Kwan,” she sang out brightly. “Meredith and I are selling the house. We have a broker coming by on Saturday to look at it, and I need to get rid of that ugly greenhouse.”

Kwan sighed. “Okay, I come by Friday.”

“Bring a big truck,” Edwina said. “Whatever you don’t take, we’re throwing away.” She looked at Rina. “Same goes for you.”

Rina clasped her hands nervously, still wondering what she was going to do with all those wall hangings. Maybe she could have a garage sale. “If either of you want any paintings from your mother’s collection, feel free to take whatever you want before I pick up the pieces.”

“Take them all,” Meredith said scornfully. “If I never looked at another flower again, I’d be fine. I think Mom loved them more than me.”

“In the end, Merry, the old girl came through,” Edwina said.

“Minus the twenty thousand,” Meredith pointed out. “I wonder what happened to it?”

A slow wave of pink infused Edwina’s face. Meredith, already mentally spending the money she had just inherited, didn’t seem to notice.

Rina looked at Brooke and Lily Lettiger. “Maybe the girls would want a painting to remember their grandmother by.”

Both of them shook their heads. Brooke said, “I loved Grandma, but she was a little extreme.”

“Very out there,” Lily added.

“If you could pick up the art by Thursday, Mrs. Decker, that would be helpful,” Edwina said. “We need to paint the house, and it would be better if the walls were clear.”

Decker regarded the sixty-three pieces of art spread out over his living room. “We could give it all to Goodwill and take a deduction.”

Rina said, “I think we’d make more at a garage sale.”

“Who’d buy any of this stuff?”

Hannah was slowly going through the works. She was twelve now, a decent artist herself, although she much preferred cartooning. “Some of these pieces aren’t so bad, Abba. I like this little painting of this white flower.”

“Actually, it’s a magnolia blossom, and it’s very well painted.”

“I’d like to keep it.”

Decker sighed. “Okay, we’ll keep that one, but only because it’s small. The rest go!”

“These watercolors look very old,” Hannah added. “Maybe they’re worth something.”

Decker groaned. “I knew this was going to happen.”

“What?” Rina asked.

“You’re going to keep the entire collection!”

“No, we don’t have room.”

“Finally, the woman speaks sense.”

“However, we shouldn’t just junk everything.”

“Why not? Sell it, burn it, just get rid of it!” Decker cried out. “If I see one more flower in the house-real or otherwise-I’m going to tear down the place, build a barn, and stuff it with racing cars.”

“I’ll take this one for my room, Abba,” Hannah said, referring to the magnolia painting. “I’ll hang it in a corner so you won’t even see it.”

“You don’t like this rose painting, Peter?” Rina held up a thirty-by-forty oil canvas of tumbling pink roses against a dark background. “I think it’s pretty.”

Decker snarled, “The painting’s huge, Rina. Where are we going to put it?”

“How about over the sofa?”

“It’s flowers, Rina. I’m sick of flowers! And I don’t like the frame.”

“I agree with you about the frame. How about we take it out of the frame, and then maybe you’ll like the picture better.” She lifted the painting. “Wow, this is heavy!”

“Don’t bother taking it out of the frame… just give it away!” But there was no talking Rina out of it. She was already removing the cardboard backing. Within seconds, pieces of paper began falling to the floor.

Lots and lots of paper.

Rina felt her head go light. Of course, she couldn’t tell the exact amount of cash. Only that there was a lot of it.

After all sixty-three works had been removed from their frames, the grand total was $11,600, all in Franklin bills.

“It’s not twenty thousand,” Decker said as he fitted another painting back into its original frame. The living room was an absolute mess. It would take them hours to clean up. His hands were still shaking from counting all that cash.

Rina looked at the rose painting. “Well, we’re certainly going to keep this painting now. It’s a harbinger of good luck.”

“I’ll say,” Decker agreed.

Rina smiled. “Except we both know, Peter, that we’re going to have to give the money back.”

“Why? Cecily obviously put it there for a reason. She obviously gave you the paintings for a reason. She wanted you to have the paintings and the cash.”

“Peter, we have to give it back.”

“They’ll just accuse us of stealing from them. They think there should be twenty thousand dollars.”

“Peter, we have to give it back!”

Decker sneered. She was right-at least morally right. Under the law, a case could be made for their keeping the cash.

Don’t even go there.

“I’ll return the cash under one condition.”

Rina looked at him. “What?”

“I want those boobs to tell me what happened to the other eight thousand four hundred.”

They all met at Mr. Mortimer’s office. The atmosphere was friendly, but Decker didn’t trust the women or their lawyer. To protect Rina and himself, he had brought his own attorney, a friend from the synagogue named Ernie Garshofsky. Under Ernie’s direction, Rena slowly explained how she and Decker had found the money.

“We intend to give it back-”

Decker broke in before Rina could finish. “My wife and I realize there are moral issues about our keeping the cash, even though it was hidden behind a painting that legally belonged to her.”

“The painting, yes, but not the money,” Edwina countered. “That’s obviously where Mom put that cash that we told you about.”

“For all we know, you kept eight grand for yourself,” Meredith countered.

“I knew this was going to happen,” Decker muttered.

Garshofsky said, “We’re getting far afield. The Deckers have no intention of keeping the money, even though it’s legally theirs-”

“That’s not quite true,” Mortimer interrupted.

“We don’t want to take this silly little matter to court, do we?” Garshofsky smiled. “Lieutenant Decker would just like a couple of questions answered before we return the money to the women.”

“What kind of questions?” Edwina asked nervously.

Decker said, “What happened to the other eight thousand four hundred?”

“I don’t know,” Edwina said.

“On the contrary, I think you do know,” Decker said. “You came to your mother’s house before Rina arrived, and when you found your mother dead, you took the eight thousand out of the drawer.”

“I did not!”

“Then why did you turn bright red when I asked about the missing eight thousand?”

“Edwina, you don’t have to say a thing,” Mortimer said.

“She does if she wants me to write her a check this afternoon,” Decker said. “Otherwise, she can sue and this meeting is over.”

“Eddy, why do you keep turning red when he asks about the other eight thousand dollars?” Meredith asked snidely. “Why don’t you just fess up? You always did have a terrible poker face.”

Finally, Edwina said, “Oh, what the hell! What does it matter?” She regarded Meredith. “About three years ago, when Garth was having all those legal problems, I went to borrow money from Mom. She gave me two thousand dollars. That’s it! Two thousand dollars. I couldn’t believe she’d be that stingy. We all knew she had money in the bank.”

“It was her money, not yours,” Rina said.

Edwina glared at her. Then she looked away. “I don’t know what came over me. I went back and took an additional two grand one day when she wasn’t home.”

“Oh my Lord!” Meredith cried out.

“I’m sorry. I know it was wrong, but we were broke. We needed the money. The witch just wouldn’t budge!” Edwina exhaled. “Altogether, with the loan and what I took, it was about four thousand and change.”

“How much change?” her sister asked.

“Okay… maybe five thousand total. I’ll give you an additional twenty-five hundred dollars from my share of the eight thousand that Lieutenant Decker found.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Decker said. “As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t given you anything yet.”

“But you said-”

“We’re now up to sixteen thousand six hundred. What happened to the other three thousand four hundred?”

Edwina said, “I swear I only took five thousand at most.” Suddenly, she glared at Meredith with granite eyes. “Okay, little sister, now it’s your turn.”

Meredith stared back, but it lacked ferocity. A minute passed and then she gave up. “Just like you, I needed money.”

“Right! To sustain your nasty habits?”

“I’ve been sober for over two years.” She burst into tears. “My creditors were breathing down my neck. She gave me less than she gave you, for your information! Only fifteen hundred.”

“And the rest you helped yourself to?”

“When you’re a chemically dependent person, you do crazy things. And who are you to judge, Ms. High Horse, with your sticky little hands in the till?”

“You two have plenty of time to snipe at each other when we’re not here,” Decker said. “We’re still about two thousand short.” Meredith looked away and didn’t answer, but that was enough for Decker to fill in the blanks. “Okay, you helped yourself, like your sister. So from what I can figure out, it seems you each stole about the same amount from your mother. It’s a wash.”

Rina said, “Cecily must have found out that either one or both of you were stealing from her. So she hid the money behind the paintings so you wouldn’t be able to get to it anymore.”

“She obviously forgot about it when she made up the will,” Mortimer said.

“Or maybe she wanted you to have it, Rina,” Decker said.

“She distinctly left all the rest of her cash to her daughters,” Mortimer added.

“It doesn’t matter what her intentions were,” Rina said. “We’re giving the money back.”

Decker said, “Before I make out the check, I want to know something. Which one of you showed up right after your mother died, went through her drawer in an attempt to steal the money, but left in a hurry without locking the front door when my wife showed up?”

Rina held up a finger. “You know, Lieutenant, I’d guess that both of them were there and discovered together that the money wasn’t in the drawer,” she postulated. “Otherwise, each one would have accused the other of taking the cash first. And didn’t you think it was odd that they both showed up at the same time but in separate cars when you only called Edwina about the news?”

Decker smiled. “You know? I bet you’re right.”

Meredith and Edwina exchanged knowing glances but kept silent. Finally, Mortimer spoke up. “I think you’ve asked enough questions, Lieutenant Decker. And I think you have enough answers. Can I trust you to write a check?”

Decker grumbled as he took out his checkbook. “Do I make out two checks or what?”

Mortimer said, “I’m the executor of the estate. Just one check, and make it out to me.”

After they got home, Rina said, “We did the right thing.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Decker said. “Why shouldn’t we have the money rather than those two vultures?”

“Because she willed me the artwork, Peter, not the cash.” “Speaking of which, how about that garage sale you keep talking about? The frames alone should net us a couple of bucks.” “Sure,” Rina said, “but give me a little time. Now that this nasty money business is over, I want to look up some of the names of the artists on the Internet. Like Hannah said, some of the works look old. Maybe a few of them are even worth something.”

“Yeah, we’re sitting on an undiscovered Renoir.” Rina laughed. “I’m not saying that, but you never know. Cecily had collected for a long time. And even if the artwork isn’t worth anything, it doesn’t matter. I look at the pictures and I think of Cecily.”

“We can’t keep sixty-three pieces of junky art, Rina.” “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to keep most of them. Just the little magnolia blossom that Hannah loves and our lucky rose painting.”

Decker looked at his watch. “I have some time. Give me the names of the artists, and I’ll look them up.”

“I’ll do it, Peter.”

“No, I’ll do it.” Decker sat down at the computer. “That way it’ll get done. So while I’m going online, get the names you want to look up. Start with the rose painting, if you’re determined to keep it.”

“It’s our lucky painting.”

“Not our lucky painting,” Decker groused. “We didn’t keep the cash!”

She hit his shoulder, then went over to the floral and studied the signature scrawled in the lower left side. “Franz Bischoll.” She spelled it for him.

Decker plugged in the name. On the screen came the words: Did you mean: Franz Bischoff? Absently, he clicked on the name. His eyes widened. His heart started beating faster. “Rina, could it be Franz Bischoff, with two F’s?”

“It could be. Why?”

“Uh, you want to come take a look at this?”

“Why? What is it?”

Decker laughed. “It’s a chance for you to say ‘I told you so.’ And for once, I don’t mind.”