Read Online A Root Awakening: A Flower Shop Mystery by Kate Collins - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Collins
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displaying a huge gold insignia ring with the letter
A
in the center of a round raised bed of glittering diamond chips. It matched the pendant on a thick gold-link chain around his neck. His dark brown eyes radiating his annoyance, he asked crossly, “And she told you to come see
me
?”
“We’re interviewing everyone who was on the scene Monday morning,” Marco said.
“It was an accident,
mi amigo
. If anyone caused Sergio’s accident, it was Sergio.”
“He caused his own accident?” I asked.
“If I had a bad heart like Sergio, I would not be eating donuts for lunch or having six beers after work—you know what I mean? You want to know why Sergio fell? Because he does not take care of himself.”
“Sergio didn’t have a heart attack,” Marco said, “or any other apparent condition that might have caused his fall.”
Adrian scowled, arms folded across his chest, clearly trying to decide what to do. “What are you saying, then? That someone here pushed him?”
“I’m saying that we’re looking for the cause of his fall,” Marco said, repeating his earlier statement. “So how about answering a few questions?”
“And I am telling you to stop looking my way,” Adrian retorted.
“All I’m asking for is ten minutes of your time,” Marco said. “Your boss told us you’d be willing to help us. Should I tell him he’s wrong?”
Adrian scowled, twisting the ring on his finger back and forth as he debated what to do. Finally, he said, “What do you want to know?”
I pulled out the notepad and got ready to write.
“Does Sergio have any enemies at work?” Marco asked.
“No, not enemies,” Adrian said. “It is just that everyone hates him.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“You make war with your enemies,” he replied.
“Why is Sergio hated?” Marco asked.
“Because he is a
cabrón
.”
“Which means . . . ?” I said.
“Ah, it has many meanings. Let us just say a bastard. He criticized everything we did. Me, I am picky about what I do. I don’t appreciate someone telling me it is no good just because he is jealous of me.”
“Why would Sergio be jealous of you?” I asked.
“Look at me,” Adrian said, posing like a matador—head up, shoulders back, chest thrust forward, legs together. “I am handsome, strong, and virile. Sergio is old,with wrinkles and gray hair. You really think that his beautiful wife wants to stay with him when I am right here?”
Giant ego,
I wrote. Adrian was rubbing me the wrong way, and I’d only been around him for five minutes. “So,” I said, “you’re saying his wife would leave Sergio to be with you if she had the opportunity?”
“You look at me and decide,” Adrian said, sweeping me from head to toe with a smoldering glance. “Perhaps you should ask Rosa if she slipped poison in his thermos that morning.”
If I were Rosa, the poison would have gone into
this
guy’s thermos.
“How well do you know Mrs. Marin?” Marco asked.
“I went to school with Rosa. She was two years younger than me, and her brother Miguel was my best friend. I would have dated her but Miguel kept me away. He said I was too much man for his little sister.” Adrian laughed, clearly proud of himself.
“Did you have a problem with Sergio being promoted to foreman?” Marco asked.
“
Sí,
I had a problem with it. I would make a much better foreman than Sergio. I am smarter than he is, for one thing, and I have a lot of experience. And even more than that, as I said before, no one likes Sergio.” He held out his arms. “Everyone likes Adrian Prada.”
I knew two women who weren’t in that category. I underlined
Giant ego
twice.
“Who was responsible for slashing Sergio’s tires?” Marco asked.
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because I’m talking to you,” Marco said. “Who was responsible for the rat in his locker? Or the red paint on his coveralls?”
“When did this happen?” Adrian asked. He was doing a poor job of
A
in the center of a round raised bed of glittering diamond chips. It matched the pendant on a thick gold-link chain around his neck. His dark brown eyes radiating his annoyance, he asked crossly, “And she told you to come see
me
?”
“We’re interviewing everyone who was on the scene Monday morning,” Marco said.
“It was an accident,
mi amigo
. If anyone caused Sergio’s accident, it was Sergio.”
“He caused his own accident?” I asked.
“If I had a bad heart like Sergio, I would not be eating donuts for lunch or having six beers after work—you know what I mean? You want to know why Sergio fell? Because he does not take care of himself.”
“Sergio didn’t have a heart attack,” Marco said, “or any other apparent condition that might have caused his fall.”
Adrian scowled, arms folded across his chest, clearly trying to decide what to do. “What are you saying, then? That someone here pushed him?”
“I’m saying that we’re looking for the cause of his fall,” Marco said, repeating his earlier statement. “So how about answering a few questions?”
“And I am telling you to stop looking my way,” Adrian retorted.
“All I’m asking for is ten minutes of your time,” Marco said. “Your boss told us you’d be willing to help us. Should I tell him he’s wrong?”
Adrian scowled, twisting the ring on his finger back and forth as he debated what to do. Finally, he said, “What do you want to know?”
I pulled out the notepad and got ready to write.
“Does Sergio have any enemies at work?” Marco asked.
“No, not enemies,” Adrian said. “It is just that everyone hates him.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“You make war with your enemies,” he replied.
“Why is Sergio hated?” Marco asked.
“Because he is a
cabrón
.”
“Which means . . . ?” I said.
“Ah, it has many meanings. Let us just say a bastard. He criticized everything we did. Me, I am picky about what I do. I don’t appreciate someone telling me it is no good just because he is jealous of me.”
“Why would Sergio be jealous of you?” I asked.
“Look at me,” Adrian said, posing like a matador—head up, shoulders back, chest thrust forward, legs together. “I am handsome, strong, and virile. Sergio is old,with wrinkles and gray hair. You really think that his beautiful wife wants to stay with him when I am right here?”
Giant ego,
I wrote. Adrian was rubbing me the wrong way, and I’d only been around him for five minutes. “So,” I said, “you’re saying his wife would leave Sergio to be with you if she had the opportunity?”
“You look at me and decide,” Adrian said, sweeping me from head to toe with a smoldering glance. “Perhaps you should ask Rosa if she slipped poison in his thermos that morning.”
If I were Rosa, the poison would have gone into
this
guy’s thermos.
“How well do you know Mrs. Marin?” Marco asked.
“I went to school with Rosa. She was two years younger than me, and her brother Miguel was my best friend. I would have dated her but Miguel kept me away. He said I was too much man for his little sister.” Adrian laughed, clearly proud of himself.
“Did you have a problem with Sergio being promoted to foreman?” Marco asked.
“
Sí,
I had a problem with it. I would make a much better foreman than Sergio. I am smarter than he is, for one thing, and I have a lot of experience. And even more than that, as I said before, no one likes Sergio.” He held out his arms. “Everyone likes Adrian Prada.”
I knew two women who weren’t in that category. I underlined
Giant ego
twice.
“Who was responsible for slashing Sergio’s tires?” Marco asked.
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because I’m talking to you,” Marco said. “Who was responsible for the rat in his locker? Or the red paint on his coveralls?”
“When did this happen?” Adrian asked. He was doing a poor job of
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