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leaving stray hairs sticking up like a bristle brush that would work really well to sweep fall leaves from the driveway. I stifled a smile over the thought of using him as a broom, and he forced one at me. “ S’pose you could help me with one more thing?”
    This was better. He was asking for my help. I released a smile, a peace offering. “What?”
    “Seeing how all those shovels are yours and you explained how Picklemann’s head ended up on the one, maybe you could explain how what I’m pretty sure is his blood and hair got all over the blue-handled one.”
    “How would I know that?” I drew back from the intensity in Mitch’s eyes. “You think I killed Bud.”
    He stepped closer. “You had motive. Everyone in town knows about your argument this morning. Then we have the shovel. Yours to be exact. And you were the one who called 911. So, yeah, if I were a betting man, I’m sure I’d hit the jackpot if I put my money on you.”
    “Well I’m not a betting woman, so your odds don’t mean a thing to me. This conversation is over.” I turned to leave and spotted Lisa’s husband, Perry, shoving through the curious onlookers surrounding the park. Perfect. He was an attorney. He could advise me. “If you have any other questions for me, you’ll have to ask them in the presence of my lawyer.”
    Shoulders back, heart racing, I stormed away from Mitch.
    “Fine! We’ll take a break for now,” he shouted after me, “but don’t leave the park until I give you permission to go.”
    I kept going, ignoring his snap judgment of my guilt. Clearly, he still blamed me for his rash behavior in high school.
    Even as I rushed away, I could feel his anger burning into my back. I picked up speed, nearly running, as if putting distance between us could solve the problem. Maybe it could. What was that old saying that goes something like, ‘you can’t run from the long arm of the law’?
    Well, watch me.

Chapter Four
    “And now, enjoy the best of Through the Garden Gate with your beloved host, Paige Turner.”
    “Hi, Paige, this is Moved Out in Portland calling. I really liked the show where you compared plants to people.”
    “That’s right, Moved Out, people can find themselves in places or situations where for some reason they don’t thrive. If they move out of the smothering environment, they flourish. Plants also require different settings in which to thrive. So if you find a plant not growing as well as you hoped in one location, move it, apply more fertilizer, or change your watering schedule.”
    “Well, I tried that with a clump of irises. I thought they needed more sun so I found a perfect sunny location, dug them up, and I’m ready to move them. Before I send them all the way to Tucson from here, I hoped you could recommend a mover. We used a rental truck when my daughter went to college, but maybe you have a better idea.”
 
    By the time I returned my attention to Lisa, Perry had taken the seat next to her. His arm settled over her shoulders like a trailing vine. Perry merely had to sit beside Lisa and color returned to her face. Must be from the feeling of security he gave her—that he was watching her back.
    I sighed, long and loud. With the passing of both of my parents and my limited ability to find a mate, I had no one watching my back.
    At my arrival, Perry stood, concern filling his eyes. “You okay?” he asked.
    I smiled at the man I’d dubbed yarrow. Sure, I could have easily attached the obvious name of periwinkle to Perry, except he wasn’t at all like the aggressive ground cover. No, he was yarrow through and through. The yarrow plant has been valued since ancient times for its ability to stem bleeding, and that’s essentially what Perry did for Lisa. Her first husband died in an accident on their one-year anniversary, and Perry helped staunch her pain and loss. Plus he was undemanding and as sturdy as the plant, rarely wavering in the face of blowing turmoil.
    Maybe he could stop the