The Gardens of Digby Green: Red-Covered Calendar
Ray sagged on the rolling stool in Rose’s office. Out in the store, the policemen made small talk as they packed up their equipment. Detective Marquez stood, stepped around the desk, patted him on the shoulder, and left.
The bell at the front door jingled one last time, and Ray was alone with the humming flower coolers and a slowly dripping faucet. He heaved himself upright, and plodded to the tap.
Rose had touched it, today.
He gripped the lever, cold now,—Where had the warmth of her palm gone?—and shoved it toward the wall until the patter stopped.
One of the coolers was open. He reached in, set a tipped bucket upright, then shut the cooler. Taking Rose’s keys from his pocket, Ray wandered out and locked the shop’s front door.
His steps scuffed along the tiles, back toward the office. Along the hall, he picked up a box from the discard pile, and carried it to her desk. Ray swept the desktop clear, and added the drawers’ contents.
With the box under one arm, he paused at the mail box and pulled out the day’s delivery. Half a dozen envelopes. He dropped them on top of the rest, and closed the box.
Somewhere in it all, there had to be a clue. Then, he’d find his Rose.
Ray went out to the rear lot, locked the shop door, and set the box on the back seat of her Chrysler Imperial. He drove the classic car home, abandoning his sedan overnight.
The kitchen, lit only by the light over the sink, still smelled like pizza and beer. Ray cleared away the gaming table, and put all three leaves into the dining table. He laid aside the day’s mail, and lifted a red-covered calendar from the box. Every year, Rose bought two, one for appointments and events at home, and one for her business. Ray flipped it open to May.
The Gardens of Digby Green is a serialized story that posts on Fridays.
Next week, part nineteen, The Strip Shoppe.
Find a link to purchase Heartland Treasures anthology here.
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