Mulch ado about nothing

and Shelley were taking the flowers to Dr. Julie Jackson’s house.
    Stefan suggested that maybe they could fit Mrs. Nowack and Mrs. Jeffry in today since they started so early in the day. Shelly and Jane were appalled. “Oh, no!“ Shelley exclaimed. “I have to take a bunch of teenage girls to their cooking lessons. And Jane has an appointment. That’s why we were so glad to be able to do the tours early.”
    Jane was nodding and feeling a bit as if she looked like Dr. Eastman’s housekeeper, bobbing in agreement. But she was thinking frantically that Mike hadn’t even mowed the yard yet and Willard had been out there since the last poop scooping.
    Sensing that this was adjournment, everyone thanked Arnie and Stefan for letting them come see their gardens and moved in a disordered clump to the front of the house—just as a police car and a little red sports car stopped in front of Arnie’s house. Mel got out of the car and a large uniformed officer lumbered out of the police vehicle.
    Arnie was standing on the porch, waving good-bye to everyone, when he spotted the two interlopers and grabbed the porch rail to steady himself.
    “Are you Arnold Waring?“ Mel asked.
    “Yes.“
    “And is one of your guests Stefan Eckert?”
    Arnie pointed a shaking finger toward Stefan, who realized they were looking for him. He strolled over and said, “Have I parked in a place I shouldn’t?“
    “No, we would just like to ask you some questions. Would you mind coming with us?”
    Stefan only looked slightly alarmed. He was more confused than scared. “May I ask what this is about?“ But even as he spoke, he was moving obediently toward the cars in front.
    “Not here, I think.”
    Stefan was invited to sit in the back of the police car, and both it and Mel’s moved off.
    Jane turned around and saw Arnie sitting on the porch with his head in his hands. “Arnie looks ill,“ she said, and they all rushed forward to give aid and comfort.
    “Leave me alone,“ Arnie said when Miss Winstead asked him to raise his head so she could look at his pupils. Jane didn’t quite understand this order. Did Miss Winstead suspect a stroke and were pupils a sign?
    “You’re as white as a ghost. You aren’t well,“ Miss Winstead insisted.
    “I’m not sick,“ Arnie insisted. “Just sick at heart. Imagine how upset poor Darlene would have been if the police had come to her garden and taken someone away.”
    Jane put her hand on his shoulder and spoke softly but firmly. “Darlene didn’t see it, Arnie. She’s not here. She’s not upset. Nor should you be. It had nothing to do with you or your late wife.”
    Color started coming back to his face and he struggled to his feet shakily. “You’re right, Miss Jeffry. I was thinking of Darlene more than usual because it’s really her garden I invited all of you to see.“
    “We know how you feel, Arnie,“ Jane said, though she really didn’t understand him. “But you would honor Darlene best if you brought her garden back to what it once was by taking all the good advice you got today. You need to get out with a sharp shovel and some knives to divide plants, and I’ll bet you’ll have her garden back just like it once was by next spring.”
    Arnie stared at Jane for a long moment. “You may be right,“ he said before opening his front door. Slowly he went into the house and closed the door very gently.

Twenty-three

    “I shouldn’t have said that to him, about Darlene being gone,“ Jane lamented on the way home. “I think I hurt his feelings and all I meant to do was calm him down. He looked so terrible.“
    “I don’t see why. For one thing, what you said was true. And the poor old guy could have had a heart attack or stroke thinking about what his wife would have felt if the police came into her yard. He doesn’t even know if that’s accurate. She might have gotten a kick out of it,“ Shelley said. “Keep in mind that we didn’t know her.”
    Jane said, “While I was upstairs at Arnie’s, I peeked in the two bedrooms.“
    “Of course you did,“ Shelley said. “Anybody would.“
    “But only from the open doorways,“ Jane amended, as if this counted toward a reputation for good manners. She described the bedroom, the ice water and carafe on Darlene’s side of the bed, the pillowcase that had never been washed. The rouge tin on the vanity. The half-done afghan and sweater on Darlene’s chair in the living room.
    “I guess I’m not as softhearted as