Killing Roses

18__Searching through roses

“Who exactly are you?”

Roman’s question bore heavily on the room, making Michael tense and Valerie squirm.

When Michael kept his back to him, Roman stalked over and, with a hand on his shoulder, spun the kid around. “I’m talking to you.”

Michael shrugged his shoulder out of Roman’s grip, raising fierce grey eyes to glare up at the detective. “I told you, I’m nobody!”

“I don’t think so,” Roman told him firmly, brows drawn together in frustration. “If you don’t tell me exactly who you are, where the hell you came from and why you were in her car in the first place, I’m going to get someone to find out and when they do, I’m going to make you wish you’d told me yourself!”

“Roman!” Valerie said, frowning at him. “Ask me! You don’t need to bully Michael about it.”

“I’m not bullying him about anything,” said Roman, his gaze fixated on Michael’s downcast face. “I just find it a little funny that he appeared just about when you get a serial killer on your trail. It don’t sit well with me.”

Valerie put her hands on her hips and regarded him with a shocked expression. “Are you kidding me? That has nothing to do with Michael!”

Roman looked at her. “Valerie—”

“No!” She stalked around the kitchen island to stand beside them and look Roman in the eye. “A lot of people in my profession come across children like Michael who need help, outside of our offices! Very few of them personally take those kids in and I happen to be one of those few. That I have this happening in my life right now, has nothing at all to do with Michael, so you step away from him right now!”

Ice entered Roman’s gaze and he narrowed it on her. “First of all… you will lower your goddamn voice. Secondly, don’t ever tell me what to do. This is my house and it is my job to make sure that you’re safe, even if I have to suspect everyone around you! You’re not going to try and make me the bad guy when you don’t even know who he is yourself! Do you?”

Val slowly shrunk back, seeming to grow shorter with every dangerous sharpening of his tone. She cleared her throat, feeling like he’d just effortlessly put her in her place. Annoyed by it, she flicked back a random curl and crossed her arms. “Y-yeah, well… you still shouldn’t yell at him.”

“I didn’t yell at him,” Roan told her. He looked back at Michael and Valerie saw his gaze get just a fraction softer. “Look here.”

Michael slowly raised his head and looked up at Roman, his grey eyes showing a toughness that only covered fear.

The moment of silence stretched longer than Roman intended for it to when he suddenly became caught in a loop, his mind filling with images of Liam. The feeling of familiarity persisted, refusing to be ignored. Roman thought of what Lieutenant Davis said. Liam was dead, killed in a car crash. This wasn’t a feeling of familiarity, it was just wishful thinking.

Releasing a breath, Roman turned away and looked at Valerie. “Just… find out who he is and where he’s from by tonight, or I’ll do it myself.”

With that, he stalked away to the door, just as Officer Kingston lumbered down the stairs, looking bright in a fresh uniform.

“No one leaves the apartment!” Roman called from the front door. “Kingston?”

Officer Kingston nodded curtly. “Understood, Detective. No one leaves unless it’s to the emergency room and I’m to call you immediately if something happens.”

Roman nodded. His gaze went over to Valerie as he pulled the door closed and he noted the strange look she was giving him. He didn’t know whether it was rage, hatred or lust, but since he had a killer to catch, Roman didn’t think it would be wise to find out.

*********************

12:10

Traffic was a nightmare, packing cars onto the freeway like peas in a long-ass pod. Frustrated, Roman turned on his siren and tried to swerve out of the mess.

“There’s been an accident at the intersection,” Officer Daniel Stark murmured from beside him, leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed.

“This is seventh store we’re going to, with no luck! This better be a sure lead, else we’ll be wasting a hell of a lot of time here,” Roman told him.

Stark sat up, his unruly blonde hair swaying over as he did. “Of course it’s a sure lead! I stayed up until three this morning, calling every major and minor florist store in and around the city. You know how many people cursed at me for waking them? You see these bags under my eyes?”

“Yes, you’ve lost your Westlife singer looks. How tragic,” Roman murmured, preoccupied with swerving out of traffic. “We’re chasing after thousands of florists to find out who knows anything about, not an entire bouquet, but a single damn rose. I hate being a Detective. God, I hope it’s worth it.”

Stark pushed back his hair, his blue eyed gaze sharpening even with the dark smudges beneath them. “The rose he left for Ms. Quinn was different! Roses don’t have that kind of coloring at the edges of their leaves, I heard its dye! The list isn’t that long, I eliminated all the florists who say they don’t practice plant dying, and the ones who said they don’t use red dye on their roses. Now we just have to find—”

“The ones who’ve put red coloring on their rose leaves,” Roman completed with a nod. “Yes, good work, Stark.”

Stark grinned, feeling elated. So what if he felt like a college student during test week? Roman had complimented him, it was worth it. “Thanks, Rome.” He glanced at him. “Now, about changing our relationship status from Colleagues to BFFs—”

“We’re heading to State University from here,” Roman said dryly. “We could have a way to narrow down our list of sources for the poison.”

Stark stared darkly at him. How dare he ignore his proposal? What would it take to be BFFs with Roman Parker?!

Roman glanced over at him as he drove. “What?”

“Nothing. Detective.”

Roman nodded curtly as they finally turned into the parking lot of the flower store. “Good. And the CCTV footage from the streets around the Social Services Department building came in. Get ready for another all-nighter.”

Watching Roman open his door and get out, Stark sighed and dragged himself out of the car to follow.

The store wasn’t large, nor fancy, but it was charming in its homeliness. If Roman had been the killer, he didn’t think he’d use something that was easy to trace. Therefore, small, hidden and homey was perfect as a source of supplies. Too bad, he’d used such a distinct rose, erasing the point of the matter.

“Let’s go,” said Roman, leading the way into the store.

The doorbell chimed as they entered, alerting the shopkeeper of their arrival.

A little old lady with glowing skin, a cheeky smile and grey hair popped up from behind the counter, petals falling out of her hair. “Well, hello, babies!” she greeted. “What can I get you?”

Roman morosely flipped open his badge while Stark blushed from her warm greeting.

“Morning, ma’am. I’m Detective Parker,” He indicated Stark. “And this is Officer Stark. We’d like to ask you a few questions regarding your flowers.”

The little old lady immediately looked troubled. Blinking at Roman, she clutched her hands against her chest. “Cops? M-my flowers? What about ‘em? I don’t sell no weed, I promise!”

With a stifled laugh, Stark raised a hand. “Ma’am, please calm down, it’s nothing like that.”

“Although it is strange that you’d throw out a denial of something we haven’t even accused you of,” muttered Roman, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. If the old lady was pumping grass out of her shop, he’d shut her down faster than she could say ‘retirement’.

The little old lady looked even more worried and Stark gave Roman a look. “Rome,” he hissed, barely moving his lips. Turning to the little lady, he gave her his award-winning smile, charming enough to ease the heart of any lady. “Ma’am, I promise, we’re just looking for something. Whether or not you’re selling m*******a isn’t the point of this visit.”

She seemed to relax a little. “W-well, what are you looking for?”

Reaching for the evidence bag held in Stark’s hand, Roman raised it onto the counter for the woman to see. “Look at this rose. Others like it or someone who can make others like it.”

The lady looked down at the rose with closely drawn eyebrows. “Aaah… a rose,” she said.

Roman blinked. “Yes, it’s a rose, that’s… pretty clear. Do you see the red markings on the leaves? That’s what we’re after.”

Prompted in the right direction, the lady lifted the bag to peer at the rose’s red-tainted leaves.

“Aaaah…” she said.

Roman gritted his teeth. Lord help him if she said—

“There’s red on the leaves,” said the old lady, dazedly looking at one of the leaves.

Closing his eyes to gather patience, Roman turned away for a moment. “She’s gonna keep stating the damn obvious?” he muttered and Stark, nudged him to keep him silent.

“Ma’am,” said Officer Stark to the old lady. “We’ve heard that you also specialize in plant dyeing. We need to take a look at your dyed roses, please.”

The little lady blinked at them, lowering the evidence bag. “But, is this a dye? It… it looks like blood to me…”

Roman nodded. “Yes, it was applied in a way that made it look like blood, but we can assure you that it isn’t. The substance on the leaves is a dye. The kind that isn’t sold, but is usually made by individuals at home or in a small business. Like this one.”

The little lady nodded in understanding along with Roman’s words, but gasped at his last three. “Like this one? Y-y’all… y’all think I did this? This dye on the rose? Y’all aren’t going to arrest me for it, are y’all?”

Letting his eyes fall closed with a sigh, Roman turned away from her.

“Ma’am, that’s not it,” said Stark. “We just want to know if you’ve done similar work on your flowers. Roses, to be more precise.”

She looked at him for a moment, her face still contorted by the momentary shock she experienced. “Oh. Well,., no, I’ve never dyed a plant, nor a flower in all my life, baby.”

Stark frowned. “Are you sure?” She nodded. “Well, do you at least know how it’s done?”

She shook her head. “No, not at all. These dyed flowers like this,” She nodded at the rose sitting on the counter. “They don’t get sold often. People just prefer your usual rose, so the dyeing is for fun. Some shop owners, along with manuals on how to care for plants, they offer tutorials on how to dye your own flowers at home.”

Roman turned around. “They teach people how to dye flowers? Can you tell us of some florists you may know who do this?”

She leaned on the counter and looked at them. “I may know, honey, but it won’t be much help in your investigation. You looking for a way to solve that murder, this ain’t it. Search closer, you youngins go too far.”

Roman and Stark stared silently at her for a few moments.

Stepping forward, Roman laid a hand on the counter and tilted his head at her. “We never said anything about a murder.”