Once Cold

The dates startled Riley. Of course she already knew that Tilda had been twenty when she’d been killed. But Riley hadn’t really stopped to think that Tilda would be forty-five if she were still alive. What might her life have been like? Would she have stayed in this little town and raised a family, or would she have gone far away and pursued an altogether different kind of life? Riley had no idea. And the truth was, nobody would ever know.

Riley suddenly felt more determined than ever.

I’ve just got to solve this case.

Riley saw that two sets of flowers decorated the grave. One was a little bucket of daffodils in cheerfully mixed shades of yellow, orange, and white.

“Those are pretty,” Bill said, pointing to the daffodils. “Do you think they’re what we’re looking for?”

Riley didn’t think so. The flowers didn’t look store bought.

She leaned down and opened a little note that was tied to the bucket handle. The message was short, simple, and heartfelt.

Dear Tilda,

Honey, I still miss you. I’ll always miss you. I’ll always love you.

Mother

“They’re from Tilda’s mother,” Riley told Bill. “I’m sure the flowers are from Paula’s own garden.” She could imagine Paula carefully cultivating a bed of bulbs she’d planted in a sunny area for early blooms.

“Does Paula live here in Greybull?” Bill asked.

“No. Tilda’s parents moved away soon after the murder. Paula still lives in Virginia, though, over on the other side of Richmond. Her husband died last year.”

Riley felt a pang of sympathy as she remembered Paula telling her on the telephone …

“What would we become if I forgot Justin or you forgot your mother? I don’t ever want to become that hard.”

Paula had always struck Riley as a brave person. But she knew that Paula was also intensely private.

How lonely she must be! Riley thought.

The other flowers were a more formal bouquet with gladiolas and carnations – an arrangement that might come from a florist. They were held in a plastic cone that had been stuck into the ground.

Obviously thinking about fingerprints, Bill put on plastic gloves and picked up the cone of flowers, then emptied out the water. He put the arrangement in a plastic bag that he’d brought along for this very purpose.

A voice called out. “What are you folks doing there?”