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Ugh! Lucienne can’t believe it! She’s deep in preparations for Morpheus’ flower contest and now she has a murder to deal with on top of it all!
First of all there’s that Gault. She seems to have a chip on her shoulder, Lucienne’s not really sure why, but also she wants to enter a *tree* in a flower contest! Okay, true, magnolia blooms are gorgeous… but they’re not even technically flowers! They’re blossoms! (And how could they even compete with her beloved orchids? But who knows what Morpheus will choose? He seems to go by quality and arrangement rather than having a favourite type of flower. One time he even let someone enter an artistic photograph of an arrangement of out of season flowers. It didn’t win because he judged it too easy to cover up blemishes in that format… but he let it enter!)
And then there’s the Corinthian with his beloved cacti. Sure their blooms are gorgeous (though they still don’t compare with her orchids), but he’s so finicky to get them to bloom at just the right time for the contest. “Don’t touch them, Lucienne! Don’t even open the door of the cactus room!” Such a prick.
The Constantines’ roses at least are always impeccable and uncomplicated, though Lucienne does hope the family member who brings them this time will look (and act… well, particularly act) a little less like a gangster this time. Last time was a bit of a fiasco when… well, Lucienne’s not even going to think about that.
No, even though the Corinthian and the Constantines surely carry knives (and possibly other weapons as well), Lucienne is mostly certain that it’s Cain who has killed Abel. They have bad blood between them, after all. It looked like a suicide at first, Abel’s own belladonna, the juices squeezed out and added to his overly sweet iced tea. But Abel didn’t seem the type and he loved his flowers and was so proud of them. And Cain, well, he had the opportunity, and if rumours were correct he’d been trying to off his brother since last year when Abel accidentally knocked over his flower arrangement right before the judging, damaging it too badly to enter, and then, to make matters worse, went on to win the contest. Not a killing offence, in Lucienne’s opinion.
But Cain, when questioned, had tried to lay the blame at the Corinthian’s feet! Sure, the Corinthian has a dangerous look to him. And carries knives, Lucienne’s seen him playing with them in an off moment. But he had nothing against Abel and poison’s not really his thing. The Constantines though, he was right about them. They wouldn’t hesitate to poison someone.
“Nah, mate! Abel? What would we have against him?” Johanna, the currently present member of the family said, when questioned. “Besides, there are much better poisons than belladonna, if you want to off someone. What a mess. Not a pro, in my opinion. Didn’t Gault have belladonna in her arrangement though?”
Lucienne sighs and metaphorically girds up her loins. She’s not sure what it is about Gault, but something about her puts her on the wrong foot every time they talk. Usually she’s quite good at faking it and looking cool and competent no matter what’s going on. But when Gault’s around she just gets flustered… especially when Gault does that little thing with her eyebrow and the corner of her mouth… that Lucienne’s *not* going to think about.
“Gault?” The tall, gorgeous woman whirls around, putting her back to the flowers she’s arranging and her fists on her hips.
“Lucienne.” Her tone’s not friendly, and neither is the way her right eyebrow starts to climb.
“Um, ah, well, you see…” God, Lucienne never gets this flustered! She tries to take a deep breath and realizes she’s forgotten to breathe for a moment. Is she terrified of Gault? Surely she doesn’t think she’ll hurt her? The sudden image of Gault’s hands on her neck cause a hot twist deep in her belly, and Lucienne feels heat flood her face as she realizes why it is that being in Gault’s presence takes her breath away. Good thing her dark skin doesn’t show a deep blush the way Morpheus’ pale skin would, she still has a chance to hide it if she can just pull herself together.
“It’s just, there’s been a murder and I don’t think Abel would kill himself and Cain said maybe the Corinthian did it but the Corinthian said the Constantines and Johanna said you have belladonna and, oh my god! I don’t think you did it! But I don’t know what to do!” Oh no that came out all in a rush, Gault probably didn’t even understand half of it. Lucienne is tempted to bury her face in her hands, but manages to resist in the interest of maintaining a shred of her dignity (and watching how Gault stands straighter and loses some of her animosity as she processes Lucienne’s info dump. God, she’s gorgeous when she stands like that.)
“Why don’t you just buy some fancy PI like you rich people always do?” Oh! Gault thinks she’s rich? She certainly can’t afford a PI!
“Oh no, I’m not rich! And Morpheus, well, his family is. But since he cut them off, he mostly lives off the greenhouse and the flower contests and the occasional filming contract. We don’t really have that much extra in the way of funds. I know he looks like it… at least until the fancy clothes he left with wear out.” Lucienne suddenly realizes she’s babbling and giving out Morpheus’ private information and clamps her mouth shut. But oh no. There it is. The eyebrow lift. The corner of the mouth raised in that little smirk. How is she going to live through this? But Gault’s posture toward her looks softer than it ever has before.
“Oh, did they disown him when he married you, then? I’m sorry, I assumed…”
“Oh no no no! We’re not married! We just. We met in art class in college, both drawing flowers, you know, and when he left home I put him up for a while and then when he built the greenhouse he invited me to help and,” she is babbling again, Lucienne realizes, “neither of us lean that way!” Surely her blush is hot enough now to be seen even with her darker colouring! She hadn’t meant to say it like that… to say that at all! What is Gault going to think? This time she doesn’t resist, she just buries her face in her hands.
“Lucienne.” She feels a soft touch on her shoulder as Gault says her name in a much gentler tone than before. She looks up through her lashes at Gault’s lovely face, now looking softly down at her with both eyebrows raised and a big, bright smile. Oh, Lucienne could drown in that smile, in those lovely dark eyes. She never wants to leave. She can just live here, forever, looking into Gault’s eyes. But no… there was a thing. It was something… it was important. Lucienne remembers being upset when she came to talk to Gault. It was… oh yeah! A murder.
“Lucienne, maybe we should call the police? And make sure no one leaves?” Gault’s hand is still on her shoulder. It makes her feel steadier than she ever has in Gault’s presence before. Perhaps that helps her drag her mind off the distracting closeness of Gault’s majestic breasts and back to poor Abel’s murder.
“Oh, yes, I did do that. I was trying to tell everyone not to leave, when they all started accusing each other. Then I guess I just got sidetracked. Figuring out problems for Morpheus is what I do.”
“And you’re good at it, too.” Gault’s continued smile and the little squeeze she gave her shoulder were all Lucienne wanted to think about for the next century, damn Abel for dying.
“For now, I think the best we can do is keep everyone away from the scene and wait for the police.” Lucienne nodded, and with a deep sigh, as Gault removed her hand, she pulled herself together.
“Maybe if I serve the luncheon now? It’s a bit early but I think we can manage it.”
Gault stayed at her side as she rang the bell for luncheon, as she insisted to Cain that he should attend rather than continuing to work, as Morpheus led the police to the scene of death, and as the police came to get Cain, having found a belladonna-stained mortar and pestle hidden in his gardening tool bag.
Gault stayed at her side as Morpheus judged their entries, as he named Abel’s the winner since it was “the most costly” in his words, as she made sure the celebratory dinner went off without a hitch, and as she told Morpheus she wouldn’t be home tonight and packed an overnight bag.
And Lucienne stayed at Gault’s side as they kissed, and explored each other, and discussed preferences, and brought each other to bright and shining climaxes, and slept curled up together, and fed each other grapes for breakfast in the morning.