The Interview (Part II)

(Trigger Warning: Death/Loss)

“That’s awful to hear,” Carrie said.

“Is it?” Henke asked.

Carrie rolled her eyes. “Detective, no one in this room is happy to hear an eighty-seven-year-old pillar of the community has been killed.”

“Maybe not you,” the Detective replied. His eyes flicked over to Delilah.

“Mr. Henke, what could I possibly have against an eighty-seven-year-old woman?” Delilah sighed. She was over the man’s attitude.   

“I’m wondering that myself,” Gordon replied.

“While you were chatting with your lawyer friend, here,” Henke said, “I gave your managers a call.” He paused for effect. Delilah wasn’t as shaken as he’d expected, so he continued, “Amarica told me that Mrs. Vernet was a regular at the flower shop. She’d been quite the nuisance, too.”  

“Nicole went as far as calling her a ‘nasty old woman’,” Gordon supplied. Squinting at his notes as he read from them. Delilah had to stop herself from squeezing her eyes together in dismay.

“She also mentioned that Mrs. Vernet had an issue with every arrangement she ever ordered,” Henke said.

“According to your sales records she’d been given three partial refunds in the last month alone. We also found an interesting review she wrote on Google. What was it that she called the shop, again Henke?”  

“I believe she referred to it as, ‘highway robbery’.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Gentlemen, is there a question you’d like Ms. Romanoff to answer?” Carrie interjected. The officers were playing with them. If they continued the charade their banter would wind up Delilah to the point she was at pre-donut. Carrie wasn’t going to give them a reason to put her client in an actual holding cell.

“Yes, of course,” Gordon said backing off.

Henke placed both hands on the table and leaned forward to look Delilah in the eye. “How about you tell us what your delivery van was doing at Mrs. Vernet’s home at about six on Tuesday night,” he said.

“My guess would be for a delivery,” Delilah replied. “When you took the time to call my managers, did you ask them about the delivery schedule like I suggested?”

“We did,” they said together.

“And?” she asked.

“There was no delivery scheduled for that night,” Gordon said.

“That’s strange,” Delilah said. She would make knowing her delivery schedule a priority for the rest of her life after this mess.

“It is indeed,” Henke said.

Her two drivers were older gentlemen. She intentionally hired them knowing that it would be easy labor and a fair paycheck. It worked perfectly with their social security payouts and supplemented their income to the point that they could live comfortably. Part of her business model involved hiring people who usually had trouble finding work. She couldn’t imagine that they would risk their livelihoods. It had to be a coincidence.

“Is there a chance that someone mistook a different delivery van for ours? I just can’t see Albert or Eugene hurting Hilary. They’re not too many years younger than she is.”

“Who said we thought they did?” Henke inquired.

“Are you suggesting that I would hurt Hilary Vernet?” she asked.

“It was your business that she was attacking. From everything Nicole and Amarica said it certainly sounded like she had something against you,” Gordon replied.

“Look,” Delilah said sharply, “she is—sorry—was a difficult customer. Have you ever worked in customer service, Detective? It’s chock full of frustrating interactions. Some people just wake up in the morning wanting to argue. She was one of them. I could have given my employees the green light to fire her as a customer years ago, but I never did. Why would I harm her when I could just ban her?”

“Because Hilary Vernet was a loud one,” Henke said. “She would have shouted from the mountain tops that you banned an old woman from your flower shop. She would’ve had public sympathy and that could have hurt your business.”

“I don’t think anyone that’s met Hilary Vernet would feel that way,” Delilah answered.

“You two didn’t have a very good relationship then?” Gordon asked.

“I think we just established that she wasn’t an easy woman to deal with, Detective,” Carrie interrupted. “This has gone on long enough. Do you plan on arresting my client?” Delilah stiffened at the thought. The two men looked at each other.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Gordon said.

“Don’t be leaving town anytime soon, Ms. Romanoff. We may have more questions for you.”

“Everything that I’ve built for myself is here. I have no intention of leaving it behind,” Delilah said and stood.

“We’ll have an officer escort you to—”

“That won’t be necessary. Good day, Mr. Henke. Detective Gordon,” she said, having to get in one last jab at Henke before leaving. He smirked at her.

Walking into the August heat felt like sticking her whole body in a pizza oven after the freezing temperatures of the interview room. Delilah clenched and unclenched her fists. Her fingers had gone uncomfortably stiff from the cold.

When she and Carrie had reached the parking lot she scanned the spaces for her white Lexus. Finding a place to park had seemed so long ago that she’d forgotten where she left the car. Carrie began walking confidently to the left side of the lot and Delilah followed after her. They walked together, saying nothing, as they both mulled over what had just transpired inside the station.

It was clear that Delilah had not been scratched off the suspect list. She had to find out for herself why the delivery van had been at Hilary’s house to start with. She checked her watch. Against her better judgment she decided to skip grabbing a bite to eat. Tracking down Albert and Eugene took priority over lunch. She’d have to live on the sugar from the donuts a little while longer.

“Off to the shop?” Carrie asked her.

“Not just yet,” Delilah replied.

“I can’t believe they tried to pin a heart attack on you,” Carried said.

“She died of a heart attack?”

“Something like that. Apparently, Hilary had blood pressure issues and some kind of heart condition.”

“Why wouldn’t they tell me that?”

“Probably because they knew you’d steamroll them as soon as they mentioned she passed from something that average people die from every day.”

“I can’t believe I walked away from pancakes for this,” Delilah said.

Carrie snorted, “You and me both!”

The two women said goodbye and got in their cars. Carrie had helpfully parked her Porsche behind Delilah’s Lexus. No need for her to run around the parking lot pressing the lock button on her key fob twenty times until she finally found her car.

The inside of the car was stifling. She leaned against its side for a moment with the door open and the air on. When she felt it was safe enough to rest her bare thighs against the black leather seat she slid into the car and turned on the cooling fan for the driver’s seat. She sighed. Cooling seats were the best invention ever next to remote car starters.

Backing out of the tight parking space took some time, which caused her anxiety to spike again. Feeling trapped just outside the police department was making her uneasy. When she finally pulled out of the car park she instantly felt better. Being able to drive had given her a sense of freedom since the day she got her license. She turned on her music, took a deep breath, and held it in before releasing a long flow of air between her pursed lips. What a morning it had been.

The screen on her dashboard lit up and a ringing sound played through her speakers. Amarica was calling. She reached forward and pressed the answer button.

“This is Delilah,” she said.

“Hey, Dee, “Amarica said into the phone. “Everything’s fine I just wanted to let you know that Eugene called out today. I’ve been trying to get Albert in, but he isn’t answering his phone.”

“Well,” Delilah said, “That’s an interesting turn of events.”

“Oh?” Amarica said, confused.

“Nothing. Never mind. Is Jake in today? Pull him off watering and have him do the route. How many do we have?”

“Does this have anything to do with why the police called?” Amarica asked.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Delilah replied.

“Jake is only in until three, and we have six deliveries this afternoon. One is at four.”

“I’ll take care of the four o’clock myself, then. I should be done running errands before that. Even still, give the customer a call to see if they’re open to an earlier drop-off. Let me know what they say.”

“You got it, boss. Everything ok?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m going to check on Eugene. Did he say why he wasn’t coming in?”

“Just that he wasn’t feeling up to it, today,” Amarica said. “I have to go. Chastity is waiving me up front.” The call ended without another word.

As a business owner, Delilah made sure that her staff knew she would rather see them healthy than hurting. On the ninety-first day of their employment, all employees were informed that they made it through their probationary period and were issued three weeks of vacation. They were also given ten days of sick time. She owed much of her success to the amazing people who worked for her, and she felt it was appropriate to reward them with a break when they needed it. In nine years of business only three people had quit, which was a pretty stellar track record. With that being said the timing of Eugene’s call out was pretty coincidental.

She turned down a side street that led to the cul-de-sac Eugene lived in. His house was the fourth on the right. There was no car in the driveway, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t home. His truck was probably in the garage.

Instead of parking in the drive, Delilah stopped on the side of the road just in front of the narrow stone sidewalk that divided the front lawn. The sun felt good on her skin when she climbed out of the Lexus. She breathed in the scents of summer as a gentle breeze ruffled her short blonde bob.

The doorbell rang loudly when she pressed it and she heard a dog barking from somewhere inside. A pug with a squished face suddenly appeared behind the glass and slobbered all over it. The door opened slightly, and Eugene stuck his leg in the gap to prevent the little rascal from escaping. Delilah laughed.

“You should have a ‘Beware of Dog’ sign in the window,” she teased.

“She’s all bark. The second you come inside and she sees you’re alright she’ll be your best bud,” Eugene replied.

“I have no doubt,” Delilah said with a smile.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it in today. I’m not feeling my best.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine Eugene. You know my policy. No questions asked. I just wanted to make sure that you were ok. I think you’ve used one sick day in the five years you’ve worked at the shop.” She took a moment to look him over. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He was still in his pajamas and looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.

“That’s mighty kind of you, Ms. Delilah,” he said. His slow southern drawl was more pronounced than usual. He must have been pretty tired.

She put her hand on his shoulder, “Eugene…”

“Why don’t you come on inside,” he said after clearing his throat. He stepped back and opened the door wider. He gently slid the pug across the tile to let her in. “Move over Ginge,” he said to her. “You behave, now.”

Delilah stepped up into the house and crouched to let Ginger sniff her hand. They had met before, but it had been some time since then. Once the lady of the house approved of her presence they both followed Eugene down the hallway.

His home was very tidy and she remembered that he had hired the same cleaning company for his house that she used for her own. When the three of them entered the kitchen together Delilah accepted Eugene’s offer of sweet tea, and they brought a whole pitcher of it out to the back deck. Ginger bounced her little body down the stairs and took off after a flock of birds that pecked at the earth.

They sat down at a wooden table that had a big red umbrella stuck through the middle. The deck was covered in flowers. Several large flower pots and tiered planters lined the outermost area of the space. It was no wonder that Eugene worked at a flower shop. He had a green thumb of his own.

“Would you ever want to work with the gardeners at the shop? You clearly have a gift,” she said gesturing toward the colors surrounding them.

“Nah,” he said, “it’s hard on the hips. I do it at home because I can take my time with it. Besides, I enjoy the deliveries. There’s just somethin’ beautiful about seeing a person’s face light up that reminds me that life ain’t so bad.” He took a long drink of tea. Delilah’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Amarica. Jake was running the deliveries and she was able to move up the four o’clock. “Need to get goin’?” Eugene asked.

“And break myself away from the beautiful sunshine, good company, and delicious tea? I think not,” she raised her glass to him. They clinked together and Delilah took her first sip of the sweet liquid. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, jumping right in.

Eugene looked across the yard rather than meet her eyes. She noticed his bottom lip quivered despite the strong jaw he locked into place. When he turned to face her his eyes had welled up with tears. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. He placed his own over hers and patted the back of it.  

“I, uh, lost someone recently,” he tried. His voice wavered, but he pressed on. “It was a great shock that I wasn’t prepared for.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Eugene,” she said and she meant it. “Please take all the time you need. Policy be damned. I won’t cut into your vacation time while you’re grieving.”

He chuckled, “You are somethin’ else, Ms. Delilah. If women had been runnin’ things back in my day we’d all have been better off, I think.” Now it was her turn to chuckle.

“Female or otherwise it’s all about the person, my friend. And I meant what I said. Please take all the time you need. Is it someone that I know?” Eugene had no family that she knew of. His late wife passed in her early thirties and he never married again. No kids.

The way he looked at Delilah at that moment made her stomach sink to her toes. A half smile appeared on his face and he looked slightly abashed. He took another drink from his glass and sighed.

“You’ve met,” he said.

“Well in that case I feel obligated to send the family our condolences. I’ll put an arrangement together with my own two hands. Just let me know when and where. You can deliver it yourself if you’d like,” Delilah offered.

“That’s mighty kind of you, Ms. Delilah,” he said tearfully. “But I’m not sure you’ll want to do that when you find out who it is.”

“Nonsense,” she replied. “Anyone that’s a friend to you is a friend of mine.” He laughed out loud at that.

“You’ll be eatin’ your words in a minute,” Eugene said still amused. She was glad she could make him smile at least. Losing anyone is a hard thing to endure, but it’s particularly hard when you feel alone in the world. Delilah tried her best to make her shop a comfortable place for everyone she worked with, but as much as they were a tight-knit group it simply wasn’t enough.  

“You don’t have to say if you’d rather not. I can make the arrangement and you can take it whenever you’d like. How’s that?” she asked.

“Oh, no ma’am. I’m going to tell you. It’s just that she wasn’t everyone’s favorite is all,” he said.

“I’m sure there’s quite a few people out there who could say the same about me,” she said. “I’m not the easiest person to get along with sometimes.”

“She certainly rubbed people the wrong way most times,” he said, “but there was this other side to her that people didn’t get to see. She was a hard woman, but she was soft too. She reminded me of my late wife.” He looked up at the sky trying to keep the tears from falling. She squeezed his hand again.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Eugene. Truly,” she said gently.

“So am I,” he replied grasping her hand more tightly than before. He met her eyes then. Tears streamed down both sides of his face and his mouth twisted up from the pain of his loss. He gathered himself as best he could, took a deep shuddering breath, and said, “Especially since it’s my fault she’s dead.”  

(To be continued...TUNE IN NEXT MONDAY for the final chapter of "The Interview"!)

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