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victim died. I've been assigned a plot, and I'm just waiting for the right weather to fill it with vegetable plants."
    Lily paused in the act of emptying the box of croissants onto a serving plate. "You're going to have a garden? But you've never liked getting dirty." She looked at her sister. "Do you remember when I needed to grow some pea plants for a science project, and Aunt Helen came for a visit? She was supposed to be helping me plant the seeds in little paper cups to set on a window sill, but she was afraid they'd make too much of a mess, so she ended up buying me a fancy hydroponic system that was probably intended for growing marijuana. No dirt, and the seeds were all preplanted in antiseptic-looking plastic pods."
    "You did have the biggest pea plants in the class," Laura said. "And got an A-plus on the project."
    "That was all a long time ago when I didn't know how rewarding it could be to muck around in the dirt. I've been studying agriculture all winter." Helen pointed at the teetering stack of seed catalogs on the table next to her recliner. That was only a small fraction of the reading she'd done. In the bedroom, she had even taller stacks of garden books.
    "You didn't have to get dirty while you read about gardening," Lily said. "Studying and doing are completely different."
    "Give me time. The garden wasn't open until yesterday, and I've already got six pea plants growing in my assigned plot. No antiseptic pods, just lots of dirt." Helen refrained from mentioning that she hadn't had to actually touch that dirt yet. She was certain she could have planted the seedlings if Paul Young hadn't gone ahead and taken care of it for her. It hadn't looked that difficult, and she had a beautiful pair of gardening gloves that she'd ordered from one of the seed catalogs. "Just wait, and you'll see. I'm going to grow all of my own food this summer. The vegetables anyway. Tomatoes and peppers and squash and onions and lettuce."
    Lily shook her head disbelievingly but didn't say anything.
    "I think that sounds wonderful, Aunt Helen. I'm planning to garden with my children as soon as they're old enough. Everyone can use more fresh air and fresh veggies." Laura tasted her vile-looking smoothie and then added, "Just think. You could even grow your own kale."

 
CHAPTER FOUR
     
    That evening, Helen set out her gardening outfit—her oldest jeans and a sweatshirt—plus all the supplies she'd acquired so far. She had her leather gloves with a cuff that reached all the way to her elbows, a folding kneeler bench for prolonged weeding, a hoe with a sturdy wooden handle that her woodworking friend Tate considered inferior but that had rave reviews at the online gardening sites, and a plastic-handled trowel that was even lower in Tate's estimation and higher in the online reviewers' rankings. A pocket in the kneeler held a collection of seeds that the catalogs had promised were perfect for beginners.
    She and Jack left for the garden early on Monday morning, well before Tate usually arrived to use his woodworking studio in Helen's garage. She wanted to talk to him about Sheryl's death, but he'd be here at lunchtime, and it could wait until then.
    At the garden, there weren't any open parking spots near Helen's plot, so Jack double-parked beside the Harley at the entrance to the garden. He quickly unloaded her supplies onto the sidewalk, adding a bottle of water from the cooler his professional pride insisted he should keep stocked in her car. He left to find a place to park and play games on his phone until she was ready to leave.
    The bulldozer was still in the garden where she'd last seen it, and around it was a police line cordoning off the front right quarter of the garden's land.
    Dale was over near the tape, dressed more like Helen had been on Saturday, in business-casual pants and a sweater set rather than gardening clothes. Instead of pumps, though, Dale still wore black combat boots that Helen could tell from here were spit