(ix)
-
"There is always a moment right after every epiphany, where you go 'I can't believe I didn't think of that before'"
-
The plant nursery was called The Oasis, (a name that always made Tony smirk to himself and reminisce about a hundred different clubs in a hundred different cities), and it was owned by a formidable woman in her early seventies named Josephine Winterbourne. She was tall and straight-backed, and there were still traces of chestnut left in the hair piled up under the straw hat she wore as protection from the summer sun.
"Anthony! This is a surprise! I didn't expect to see you again so soon!" she greeted, peeling off her gardening gloves and rising from the flowerbed she was weeding, in a smooth movement that belied her age.
"You know this woman?!" Ziva hissed suspiciously. Tony gave her a disapproving look and then proceeded to ignore her.
"Josie." The warm smile was genuine, not calculated for effect as so many of his smiles were these days. He bent over her hand in a display of old fashioned courtesy that made Ziva snort in disbelief in the background. "You're radiant as always. Like Chloris incarnate."
She rolled her eyes at him indulgently. "No blasphemy in my garden, Anthony. Now, I was just about to make myself something to drink. Would you care to join me? We can sit out in the summer house and have a little chat."
"Miss Winterbourne," Ziva cut in pompously, "we are here on official business. We are from N..."
Josie was thoroughly unimpressed. "Don't interrupt, girl, it's terribly rude." Ziva's mouth fell open but no words came out. Tony managed to keep from laughing, thereby saving himself from a probable castration attempt, but only by resolutely not looking at either his partner's uncharacteristically stunned expression, or Josie's eyes glittering in amusement. "What would you like to drink, Anthony?"
"Do you have any of that delicious elder flower lemonade left?"
"I've been saving a bottle especially for you."
-
Josephine Winterbourne had started the nursery after the death of her parents. Finding herself alone in a big grey Victorian house surrounded by a huge garden, with an avid interest in horticulture and herbalism, and with money enough to be reasonably well off but not wealthy, it had been the obvious solution to how she could make the money she needed while doing something she enjoyed. There had already been a large greenhouse on the property, so all she'd really needed to do was put a sign out front and an advertisement in the local paper, and then go on doing what she already did every day, just on a slightly larger scale. She only sold the very best seeds and seedlings, and had made quite a name for herself. Her plants seemed to be hardier and more lush than those from other shops, and there were colours and variations not found anywhere else.
Of course, none of the noveau riche who ordered their plants from Miss Winterbourne to upstage their neighbours, knew that if you were reliable, discreet, had the right connections, and most importantly, if she liked you, she also provided legal and not-so-legal herbs and plant extracts. Tony met all four of those criteria.
Also, the werewolf she'd been mated to had been one of his best friends.
-
After refilling his glass from the crystal pitcher, Tony sank into the thick pillows on the wicker loveseat with a contented sigh. How Ziva could look so sour after getting her own glass of Josie's divine nectar he didn't know. He guessed she was pissed off because polite small talk on his and Josie's level was really quite beyond her – something which he had to admit could be refreshing, at least when he wasn't the recipient of the bluntness – and to add insult to injury Josie refused to be the least bit intimidated by her glowering looks. He was sure that Mossad made you hand in your sneaky scary assassin card if you couldn't frighten a little old lady.
"...but enough about that, dear, you came to hear about the theft, didn't you?" It seemed Josie had decided they'd tormented Ziva enough.
He nodded graciously. "Please."
"Well, it happened the night between wednesday and thursday. I recieved the roses on wednesday afternoon...they were a special order for Mrs Butler. You remember Mrs Butler, don't you? Dreadful woman. Anyway, her gardener was going to pick them up sometime on friday, so I decided to store them in my private part of the greenhouse in the meantime, just to make sure that Sarah – that's my shop girl, by the way - didn't accidentally sell them to someone else. Sarah is a fine young woman, but sometimes I don't know where her head is at. It was a fairly busy day, but we closed up on time, and then I spent some time in the garden before going inside to watch Mythbusters. The next morning the roses were gone. Nothing else was touched."
"You watch Mythbusters, Josie?" Tony was intrigued.
"Of course I do! That Kari girl is my latest eyecandy!" Ah. They exchanged a knowing smirk.
"A-hem!" Ziva had reached the end of her patience. Overall, he was quite impressed with her stamina, really. "Miss Winterbourne. Were there any signs of forced entry?"
"No, why would there be? I don't lock the conservatory doors."
"Why not?" Ziva asked, perplexed. "This is a quiet neighbourhood, but I assure you you are not safe from crime."
Josie raised an exasperated eyebrow. "Girl, what do you think is cheaper, replacing stolen plants or large broken panes of glass and stolen plants? I don't keep anything truly valuable in there. If people want in, there is not much I can do to stop them. I can try to minimize the damage, though."
Before Ziva could come up with a scathing reply to that, Tony intercepted.
"Whoever stole the roses must have been there that day, or they wouldn't have known they were there. Did you see anything odd at all? Anybody behaving suspiciously?"
"Not really. As I said, it was a fairly busy day... But now that I think of it, the only complete strangers to come in was this young couple looking to buy a birthday present for his mother. They took forever to make their minds up, but in the end they left with a Phalaenopsis orchid. They didn't strike me as rose-nappers, but then you never know. Other than that, it was all repeat customers." She shrugged.
"This couple...what did they look like?"
"Young. Barely in their twenties, I'd say. The girl was quite shapely – blonde, green eyed. Wore a vintage dress. The boy was shy. Hid behind that impossibly tangled hair that seems to be popular nowadays. Do you think it was them?"
"Possibly. What about the guy who delivered the roses? Do you know him?"
"George?" Josie scoffed derisively. "I've known him for years. He's a lazy good-for-nothing old miser, which means if he should get it in his head to steal rosebushes, he wouldn't drive all the way out here to drop them off first."
"Fair enough. We're going to need his number in any case, just to check. And-" his phone startled him. He was sure the ringtone hadn't been the Inspector Gadget themesong yesterday. Abby! "-Yeah, DiNozzo. What's that, Probie? Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure. We're on our way." He flipped the phone closed decisively. "Duty calls, Zee-vah. Drink up. Josie, thank you. I will call if we have any further questions." He finished his own glass and licked his lips dreamily. "Absolutely delicious. I apologize for taking off in such a rush, but you know how it is. Dinner this weekend?"
-
The third body lay half-buried in a childrens sand box at the Little Creek Naval Base. The violent rain of the previous night had uncovered the body before any kids could, something Tony felt silently grateful for. He sniffed surreptitiously, and yes, there were traces of the familiar scent still hanging on this crimescene. That it had not been completely diluted and washed away told of how strong the scent would have been to begin with. Maybe even strong enough for humans to notice it. Maybe. If they sniffed the corpse. Ducky was the only one he thought might do that, though.
Ducky pronounced the time of death as "Thirty-six to fourty-eight hours ago, Jethro," and then added, dryly, "and before you ask, the cause of death would appear to be suffocation."
Tony thought so too, considering the fact that the girl had a transparent plastic bag wrapped tightly over her head. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...Gibbs would probably shoot it. Anyway, he was willing to bet her lips were a nice colour blue under that green lipstick.
The lipstick matched her outfit perfectly. Green boots, green-and-black striped tights, green skirt lined with black tulle, shorter even than those Abby liked to wear. Green fingerless gloves reached to just above her elbow, green tank top stretched over an ample bust. Green and black dread falls pressed against the plastic bag as if they wanted to burrow their way free.
On the tank top, in the by now easily recognizable penmanship, were the words lovely creature. Written with a Sharpie pen, by the looks of it. Again, the alarm bells of recognition went off. And again, the annoying connection stubbornly eluded him. Absently, he started snapping pictures. Lovely creature.
"No ID, boss," McGee reported, "unless she's got it in her...you know." His ears got a slightly reddish tinge to them. Probie, Probie, PROBIE...you just make it way too easy. No fun at all.
"Are you referring to her brassière, Timothy?" Ducky enquired politely, face pleasantly blank. "I don't believe she's wearing one. Much like my mother, actually. Mother believes everything she reads in the newspaper these days, and so has recently started refusing to wear any sort of upper body underwear at all, stating that it will make her breasts sag. That, quite obviously, happened several decades ago, but she is most adamant. Why, yesterday- " McGee's red ears glowed brighter. Tony smiled inwardly. Something suspiciously like a snort came from Gibbs' direction. And some people think Ducky has no sense of humour.
"Ducky! Dead body, twelve o'clock," Gibbs prodded.
"Ah, yes. I do beg your pardon. Come along, Mr Palmer. We have work to do."
-
It wasn't until they were back at headquarters and up in the bullpen that it hit him. The words had been repeating in the back of his mind since he saw them, but suddenly they slammed into place like a concrete slab. Somewhere she lies, this lovely creature, beneath the slow drifting sands, with her hair full of ribbons, and green gloves on her hands.
He shot up from the chair, causing the whole office to stop and stare at him. "Stupid! Stupid! I can't believe I was so stupid!"
Then he headed for the emergency stairs, because he certainly couldn't wait for the elevator, leaving his team (including Gibbs) dumbfounded.
To be continued.
Author's Chapter Notes:
lemonade and deadgirl.
Chapter End Notes:
thank you all for the feedback. i still don't own ncis. or nick cave. i have nothing, NOTHING i tell you.