The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree (Berkley Prime Crime)

milkshakes, dishes for sundaes, plates for sandwiches and cake—on glass shelves. A large wall mirror reflected the glassware, the boy’s back, and Verna’s own image.
    “How about a cherry Coke?” Verna replied, and fished a nickel out of her coin purse.
    “None of that makeup stuff?” the boy countered, obviously eager for a sale. “Make you look real purty.”
    “I kinda like myself the way I am,” Verna said with a little laugh. She wasn’t priggish—she just thought it was silly to spend money to paint your face and pretend to be somebody you weren’t. If you were married, what did your husband think when the eyelash darkener came off and your eyes no longer glowed with enchantment? “Just the Coke, please,” she added firmly.
    “Comin’ up.” The boy took down a glass and held it under a spigot on the chrome-plated soda dispenser. Dark Coca-Cola syrup squirted out. Another spigot for the cherry syrup. Then a lever for fizzy carbonated water. The boy plopped in a maraschino cherry, added a paper straw, and pushed the glass across the black marble counter. He rang the cash register with a flourish and dropped the nickel into the drawer.
    “Nice place,” Verna said, looking around.
    “Been here since 1908,” the boy said proudly. “My dad’s place. He wa’n’t much older ’n me when he started it.” He wiped off the counter with a white cloth. “The soda fountain’s only a few years old, though. Dad likes to keep up with the times.”
    “He’s smart,” Verna murmured in an appreciative tone. “You’ve been working here long?”
    “Off and on since I was a kid,” the kid said, squaring his shoulders. “Want somethin’ to go with that Coke? We got sandwiches. Ham and cheese.” He gestured to a plate of white-bread sandwiches covered with a glass dome. “My mom makes ’em. Real good.”
    “No thanks,” Verna said. “I’m meeting someone later. Listen, I’m wondering ... Didn’t a girl named Bunny used to work here? Seems to me somebody told me that.”
    “Oh, yeah,” the boy breathed. “She sure did.” From the evident longing in his voice, Verna guessed that he wished she still did. “That was before Gloria,” he added. “She’s our cosmetics girl now.” He grunted disdainfully. “Not much of a girl, though. Gramma’s more like it. Dunno what an old lady like her is s’posed to know about cosmetics.”
    “Did you know Bunny very well?”
    The boy gave her a crooked grin. “Not as well as I would’ve liked.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah. But she had bigger fish to fry. Which you can’t blame her for.” Another grin, this one with a cynical edge. “You got it, you better use it—that’s my motto. She had it. And believe you me, lady, she used it.”
    Verna couldn’t argue with that. “Big fish?” she asked casually. “Like who?”
    The boy shrugged. “Like guys with money. Al, the guy who runs the parts department over at the Ford dealership. The dentist down the street. Salesmen who stayed at the Commercial.” He frowned. “I’m not sayin’ there was anything wrong. Guys like me, she was always real nice. Laughed and teased, flirted, even. But what she really liked was a good time. You couldn’t show her a good time, you weren’t gonna get to first base with her. Bottom line.”
    Verna stirred her Coke with the straw, thinking that Bunny hadn’t changed one bit when she moved to Darling. She’d still liked a good time, and she’d still preferred guys with money. “She grew up around here, I understand.”
    “Yeah. Went to school with my sister. Lived with her mom over on Oak Street, next to Doc Myers’ animal hospital—‘til her mom died a while back.” The boy cocked his head curiously. “Hey. How come you’re wantin’ to know about Bunny?”
    Verna had already guessed that the news of Bunny’s death had not yet arrived in Monroeville. She wondered briefly if she should tell the boy, but decided against it. Bunny had been found late Monday, and today was only Wednesday. He’d find out soon enough, probably when the Monroe journal came out at the end of the week.
    “Just curious,” she replied, and slurped up the last of her drink. “I met her at the drugstore over in Darling. She was working there.”
    “Darling. So that’s where she went. I wondered. She kept sayin’ she was goin’ to Mobile or Atlanta. New York, even.” The boy picked up a glass and began to polish it. “Listen, you see her, you tell her Jerry the soda