Free The Perennial Killer: A Gardening Mystery by Ann Ripley

was a honey. Had a wonderful perennial garden there in that mountain valley that Jimmy still maintained, I hear, just out of habit, I guess. But Jimmy had his enemies.” She shook a finger again at Louise. “Mark my words: If that lazy sheriff ever finds who did it, it’ll turn out to be someone Jimmy wronged some way or other.”

    Louise was thinking about Ruthie’s words and how on earth anyone could pass up a piece of that pie as she headed for home on Route Thirty-Six, so at first she didn’t notice the wind. Suddenly, her car started veering left off the road, as if a giant hand were slowly pushing it onto the plains. She took a firmer grip on the steering wheel thenand paid attention to her driving. So this was what they meant by a chinook.
    When she reached her house, branches of the big cottonwoods surrounding it whipped dangerously back and forth, and she was thankful for the protection of the carport. She unlocked the door, finding it hard to pull open. When she finally got in, she was startled to hear a wail. It took her an instant to realize it was the house wailing, sounding for all the world like a woman in pain. Then the sound broke into several tones, like a choir gone mad, as gusts pushed through every crevice and opening.
    For a moment, she thought about fleeing. She could gather up some of her belongings in a suitcase and speed to Boulder and get a room at the Boulderado. Then, she and Marty and Steffi could hang out—maybe in their room, or maybe in one of the hotel’s funky but stylish bars.
    She put her head between her hands and gave herself a shake.
What am I thinking? It’s just the wind!
She went to the windows and pulled the drapes closed. They were heavy, and designed, no doubt, to prevent chinooks from breaking and entering.
    She grabbed an old Indian blanket from the couch, and pulled it around her shoulders. Now she knew what it was for. These winds somehow made one feel cold, even in the heat of a summer night. She curled up with a book she had found on the living room table and tried to concentrate, but was distracted. She glanced frequently toward the windows, wondering if they could stand up to the heavy gusts.
    Finally, the book grabbed her. It was entitled
Emily: The Diary of a Pioneer Woman
. Emily was an unfortunate woman who lived on her own in the West near the turn of the century, and endured unbelievable drudgery and poverty. Louise was appalled at some of the deprivations Emily suffered. Suddenly she felt spoiled.

Chapter 5

    L OUISE WAS WEEDING IN THE yard of her rental house. It was Tuesday, an agreed-upon day off so that Marty and Steffi could tour the mountains. She wasn’t in the mood for reviewing scripts, which left her with little to do. The fact was that with Bill gone, she had a dangerous amount of free time, and she was trying to fill it wisely. First, she had gone through the entire rental house, removing a layer of fine, red sandstone dust from the furniture. Then, she scrounged up somegarden gloves and tools in the utility room off the kitchen and went out to do the garden.
    She couldn’t keep her mind off the murder that happened ten miles up die road, any more than she could keep her hands out of these weeds. If Bill had been around, he would have warned her against getting involved. But he wasn’t—so he hadn’t.
    It was damp in the yard, since she’d turned the sprinkler on for more than an hour. This watering, together with the recent rains, had almost restored life to the adobelike ground and the buffalo grass trying to survive in it—it also made her weeding task considerably easier. This was a pleasant, wild place, she decided, accented with moss rocks, dotted with piñón and ponderosa pines and a few big clumps of ornamental grasses. Here and there were rugged apache plume plants that still held onto a few of their butterflylike white blossoms. The
Nepeta
“Six Giants” was in full cry, resembling two dozen delphiniums in bloom, with a