The Gardens of Digby Green: Mailbox
He’d ridden back to the morgue parking lot with Marquez, who had waited until Ray started the engine of his Buick. Ray let the car idle for a while. What to do now? Ray sighed, put the car in Reverse, and left the lot.
Driving aimlessly, Ray found himself on Dixie Way, a few blocks from his wife’s store. It would probably be a good thing if he emptied the shop’s mail box. He drove through a changing traffic light on amber, turned left into the lot entrance, and went around the building to the rear door.
Since the night she’d disappeared, Ray had added his Rose’s keys to his own ring.
“I want to give them back to her, but to do that, she’s got to come home. Let her be safe.” He left the car and pulled down the mailbox door.
Ads curved up the box walls, surrounding stacked envelopes. Ray pulled everything out. Bills for the shop utilities, one for trash disposal, a mailed payment, and one bill from Roseland Garden Supply. He returned to the car and left the gathered mail on his Buick’s passenger seat.
Ray hesitated, then opened the rear shop door. While he was here, he might as well check that there weren’t leaks or other problems since he’d been in the building. While flipping the hall light switch, he let the door shut behind him.
A glance into the office showed nothing changed in there, so he moved into the work room. At one end of the long table stood a stack of small white boxes Ray hadn’t noticed the night Rose disappeared. He lifted the top one’s lid, revealing a wilted boutonniere. Ray gulped.
He’d have to go through Rose’s orders, and somehow apologize to the customer who had expected them.
The coolers hummed as they should, but a closer look showed the buckets of blooms were low on water. Ray went back to the tap, turned it on, and dragged the hose to the first cooler door. Spraying the containers in rhythmic pulses, Ray solved one problem.
He’d taken all the paperwork from her desk, and her computer password had to be in the mass somewhere, didn’t it? If her phone contained any contacts whose names matched those of the women he’d met in the front lot, perhaps they could come and make up any outstanding orders Rose had.
The Gardens of Digby Green is a serialized story that posts on Fridays.
Next week, part thirty-four, Flu Bug.
Find a link to purchase Heartland Treasures anthology here.
Ruth
Heidi Kortman