Free Lavender Lies by Susan Wittig Albert Page A

this?”
    I hate being a stoolie on my friends. “I suspect he isn’t an easy man to live with,” I said reluctantly. “Phyllis has told me enough, now and then, to give me the idea that they’ve had their share of marital problems. And there was that sad business about his leaving the ministry and getting a job as a social worker, which she never tried to explain.” I met McQuaid’s eyes. “I don’t know for sure that there has been any domestic violence, but it’s possible.”
    “Yeah,” McQuaid said dryly. “Ministers and social workers are like cops. The last ones you’d suspect of beating their wives. But it happens.”
    “Do your best to protect Phyllis,” I said, not liking to think what Jorge was going to say—or do—when he found out that the cops had possession of the letter. True, Phyllis knew what I intended to do with it when she gave it to me. But that didn’t keep me from feeling as if I’d betrayed her.
    “I’ll try,” he said. “But this is a murder investigation. If Garza had anything to do with Coleman’s death, we’ll find it out.” He looked at me. “Do you happen to know which of the others Coleman might’ve tried to get to?”
    I took out my notes and put them on the table. There were two names in the “for” column and five names in the “against” column, including Pauline’s and Phyllis’s.
    McQuaid ran his finger down the “against” list. “Blast,” he muttered. “Guess I’m going to have to talk to all of them.” He looked at his watch. “Bob better get out here pretty quick. I’ve got to get back to the office.”
    “That’s the trouble these days,” Bob said, appearing with our plates. “Ever’body’s in too big of a hurry to chew right, an’ when they get the bellyache, they blame the food.” He looked at me. “Maria says to tell you that she dropped a punch bowl by your store a little while ago. She heard you needed one.”
    “Thanks,” I said. To McQuaid’s questioning look, I added, “For the reception. Which reminds me. We have to decide about music for the ceremony.”
    “How ‘bout ‘Boot Scootin’ Boogie?” Bob said. “That’ud gitcha down the aisle fast.” He two-stepped off, singing it.
    “I don’t want to think about music,” McQuaid said. “Whatever you decide will be okay with me.”
    “Ruby says it should be Pachelbel’s Canon. Would you like that?”
    McQuaid looked confused. “Isn’t that the one with guns and bells?”
    “You’re probably thinking of the 1812 Overture,” I said tactfully. “That has cannons in it.”
    “Oh.” He picked up his knife. “Well, that’s how much I know about music. You choose. Come on, let’s eat. I’ve got to get back to work.”
    “If I choose,” I said, “it’ll be something like ‘Devil With a Blue Dress On.’ ”
    “Great,” he said, chewing fast. “That’ll work. And listen, let’s leave the license until tomorrow, okay? I probably should’ve let you go out to lunch by yourself and sent Dorrie across the street for a burger for me. This is a murder investigation. I haven’t got time to be sociable.”
    “For the recessional,” I said darkly, “we can play ‘All My Exes Live in Texas.’ ”

CHAPTER FOUR
    Lavender has been the royal herb of Europe. Charles VI of France (who was periodically convinced that he was made of glass) insisted on having cushions stuffed with lavender to sit on wherever he went.... Queen Elizabeth I of England commanded that the royal table never be without conserve of lavender ... and is reputed to have been a great afficionado of lavender tea. This was used extensively for centuries to relieve headaches of nervous origin.
    Lavender Sweet Lavender
Judyth A. McLeod
     
Lavender has an especially good use for all griefes and paines of the head and brain.
    Paradisi in Sole Paradisus Terrestris, 1609
John Parkinson
     
     
     
    After lunch, Ruby and I left Laurel to keep an eye on both shops and adjourned to the tearoom to