Read Online From Newsprint to Footprints: A River's Edge Cozy Mystery (River's Edge Cozy Mysteries Book 1) by Elaine Orr - Free Book Online
Authors: Elaine Orr
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them to bring more mulch, but decided it would be just too weird. I'd leave it to Syl.
Instead, I walked slowly around the house, doing a mental inventory, interrupting it to pull down a lot of ivy in back of the house. I could burn it later.
My memory of the garden tour almost twenty years before was primarily of the area behind the house. There had been a curving brick path and a large bird bath. It was the first time I'd seen a hummingbird. Mother had explained that the small feeders almost hidden among flowers had sugar water that attracted the tiny birds.
A wooden deck covered part of what had been the back garden. Why anyone would convert such peaceful beauty to fifty square feet of treated lumber was beyond me.
I didn't notice an almost-buried line of bricks about two yards out from the house until I stepped on one. The bricks told me that the area alongside the house opposite the driveway had at one time been landscaped.
Surely some plants had been perennials. As if the thought had willed my eyes to be more discerning, two small leaves, green with yellow at the edge, peered up at me. I stooped to move dead leaves from around them and unearthed a hosta plant. I moved my hand wide in a circle and found another one, then a third. At least I won't be starting from scratch .
I had been about to stand up when Syl's angry voice drifted out the window. "You know why that extra money was built into the contract. There's a tremendous amount of uncertainty in…"
It was twenty seconds before he spoke again, and he was even angrier. "It's not a honey pot for grubby paws." Short pause. "Of course I appreciated the introduc.…"
This was not a conversation meant for my ears. Since I was almost under his window I didn't want to stand. After ten feet of crawling toward the front of the house, my right knee hit something sharp.
"Ow!" I stood and brushed off my knee, annoyed that a pinprick of blood had appeared. I don't mind getting down and dirty, but there's lots of bacteria in soil. Those microbes don't always play nice with the human bloodstream.
I squatted to look more closely at what pricked me, and then wiggled what seemed to be a sharp piece of rock. It loosened quickly, and I was surprised to find a stone arrowhead. There are lots of them in Iowa, but usually any in a yard would have been found long ago.
It was slightly rounded and looked to be a Dickson arrowhead. A few years ago, I wouldn't have known what kind it was, but the diner now has a large poster of Iowa arrowheads. I slipped it into the pocket of my cutoff jeans.
I was rummaging in my truck's glove box when the front door opened and Syl stepped out. "Looking for me, Melanie?"
I retrieved the bottle of hand sanitizer that I use as disinfectant and shut the door. "I almost hate to ask, but did you get a chance to order more mulch?"
When his expression relaxed, I realized he had looked tense.
The humor that sometimes lingered beneath the surface appeared as a wry smile. "Anxious to see what will be in the next batch?"
I shook my head. "Hard to top the last one. Mostly I didn't want to call myself. The guys will be into macabre humor by now."
"I'll call. Listen, I apologize for your having to hear me holler."
I grinned. "You do remember who I used to work for? And I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was checking the flower beds."
He walked off the porch. "There are flowers under all that mess?"
"Come on." I led him to the area that I had cleared. "I only found three hostas, but they're evenly spaced. I bet there will be more perennials under here. We might be able to get the area around the house spiffy in a few days."
"That's not a word you hear a lot in LA, except on older sitcoms."
It didn't sound like a put-down, but I wasn't sure. "We don't recycle vocabulary as often as people on the coasts."
He laughed. "A gardener with linguistic interests." He turned toward the front of the house and spoke without looking back. "I'll call for you this time,
Instead, I walked slowly around the house, doing a mental inventory, interrupting it to pull down a lot of ivy in back of the house. I could burn it later.
My memory of the garden tour almost twenty years before was primarily of the area behind the house. There had been a curving brick path and a large bird bath. It was the first time I'd seen a hummingbird. Mother had explained that the small feeders almost hidden among flowers had sugar water that attracted the tiny birds.
A wooden deck covered part of what had been the back garden. Why anyone would convert such peaceful beauty to fifty square feet of treated lumber was beyond me.
I didn't notice an almost-buried line of bricks about two yards out from the house until I stepped on one. The bricks told me that the area alongside the house opposite the driveway had at one time been landscaped.
Surely some plants had been perennials. As if the thought had willed my eyes to be more discerning, two small leaves, green with yellow at the edge, peered up at me. I stooped to move dead leaves from around them and unearthed a hosta plant. I moved my hand wide in a circle and found another one, then a third. At least I won't be starting from scratch .
I had been about to stand up when Syl's angry voice drifted out the window. "You know why that extra money was built into the contract. There's a tremendous amount of uncertainty in…"
It was twenty seconds before he spoke again, and he was even angrier. "It's not a honey pot for grubby paws." Short pause. "Of course I appreciated the introduc.…"
This was not a conversation meant for my ears. Since I was almost under his window I didn't want to stand. After ten feet of crawling toward the front of the house, my right knee hit something sharp.
"Ow!" I stood and brushed off my knee, annoyed that a pinprick of blood had appeared. I don't mind getting down and dirty, but there's lots of bacteria in soil. Those microbes don't always play nice with the human bloodstream.
I squatted to look more closely at what pricked me, and then wiggled what seemed to be a sharp piece of rock. It loosened quickly, and I was surprised to find a stone arrowhead. There are lots of them in Iowa, but usually any in a yard would have been found long ago.
It was slightly rounded and looked to be a Dickson arrowhead. A few years ago, I wouldn't have known what kind it was, but the diner now has a large poster of Iowa arrowheads. I slipped it into the pocket of my cutoff jeans.
I was rummaging in my truck's glove box when the front door opened and Syl stepped out. "Looking for me, Melanie?"
I retrieved the bottle of hand sanitizer that I use as disinfectant and shut the door. "I almost hate to ask, but did you get a chance to order more mulch?"
When his expression relaxed, I realized he had looked tense.
The humor that sometimes lingered beneath the surface appeared as a wry smile. "Anxious to see what will be in the next batch?"
I shook my head. "Hard to top the last one. Mostly I didn't want to call myself. The guys will be into macabre humor by now."
"I'll call. Listen, I apologize for your having to hear me holler."
I grinned. "You do remember who I used to work for? And I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was checking the flower beds."
He walked off the porch. "There are flowers under all that mess?"
"Come on." I led him to the area that I had cleared. "I only found three hostas, but they're evenly spaced. I bet there will be more perennials under here. We might be able to get the area around the house spiffy in a few days."
"That's not a word you hear a lot in LA, except on older sitcoms."
It didn't sound like a put-down, but I wasn't sure. "We don't recycle vocabulary as often as people on the coasts."
He laughed. "A gardener with linguistic interests." He turned toward the front of the house and spoke without looking back. "I'll call for you this time,
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