Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

father spend a lot of time out here?”
    “All the time. He’s always pruning and pampering. Do you know there are over 20,000 varieties of roses? These right here are a hybrid tea. That’s a cross between a hybrid perpetual and a tea rose,” Trish said. “I think this red one might be a Chrysler Imperial, though I’m never sure. It has a double bloom.” She bent to smell the rose, cupping the flower in her hands.
    “Come look over here.” Trish turned and walked a little further down the path. “We use these trailing roses for the trellises,” she pointed to two large trellises covered in small vines, “and these for ground cover. If you’re interested, we have tons of books on everything from hybridizing to crossbreeding and insect problems and their cures, and well, just about anything you could ever want to know about roses is sitting in my father’s study.”
    A thought occurred to me. “Does your father have a lot of trouble with bugs and pests?”
    Trish folded her arms across her chest. “Well, he’s very particular, and at the first sight of anything, he’s out here spraying like crazy, but a few years back he did have some sort of problem. He called in some rose specialist to take a look. We had to cover them up in these portable greenhouses and my father came out here every day spraying and checking. He was not a happy man, I can tell you.”
    We walked back to the house. Trish impressed me with her knowledge of the roses. What a change from the other day.
    Trish seemed to sense my thoughts. “You didn’t think much of me the other day, did you?”
    I found myself blushing for the second time in less than an hour.
    “It’s okay, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I don’t always present myself in the best light, as my father is so fond of telling me. He says I get rebellious sometimes and try to get attention in inappropriate ways.” We were back at the house. “Can I get you anything else?”
    “No, thank you. I should be going.” I picked up my purse. “Oh, a thought just occurred to me. On the night you went to Mrs. Brissart’s house, did you come right home afterward?”
    If Trish thought the question odd, she made no show of it.
    “My dad dropped me off and then he went out.”
    “Did he say where he was going?”
    “No, he didn’t. Are you sure you’re not just a bit interested in him? I’d understand if you were and I could put in a good word for you.”
    “No, really, just curious, that’s all. Before I go, could you tell me how to get to your Uncle Larry’s? He mentioned something to me about a closet organizer he invented and I want to take a look.” I might as well find out how Larry and April lived, and see if they have a rose garden in need of something containing cyanide or a few vines of Jequirity beans growing in their garden.
    I thanked Trish for the tour of the garden and told her to make sure she filled out the application. And this time I meant it. Trish might not have a lot of office skills, but I knew I could find her a very good reception position.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

    Armed with the directions, I waved good-bye and drove off. Trish hadn’t seemed to mind my barging in and maybe my luck would hold out over at Larry’s. And wasn’t the first rule of detecting to catch people off guard? I knew I’d heard that somewhere before.
    Larry and April Estenfelder did not live in the same neighborhood as Steven, but it looked like a nice area nevertheless and the mortgage still had to be more than what Larry could bring in with toupee suckers and clothes hangers. I pulled into their drive and parked behind a battered BMW. Larry answered the door with a bewildered expression on his face and a piece of egg yolk on his shirt.
    “Alex Harris. I met you the other day at your aunt’s?”
    “Oh, yes. What can I do for you?” Larry asked, still with a baffled expression.
    “Larry, who is it? Oh, hello! Alex, right?” said a cheerful April.
    “Yes, that’s right. I’m so sorry to call on you without phoning first, but I was just at your niece’s house. Trish,” I added to their vague looks, “and I thought maybe you could show me your closet organizer.”
    April hunched down and pointed a nicely manicured finger at me. “See. You didn’t think you’d need one, but everyone does.” April ushered me into the house rambling on about the merits of the closet organizer. I followed the Estenfelders down a long hall to their bedroom where April