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Here are a few more facts about Asters: Asters prefer areas with cool, moist summers and cool nights in sites with full to partial sun. In warmer climates, they do not like the hot midday sun. Give plants plenty of water at the time of planting. Add mulch after planting to keep the soil cool and prevent weeds. All asters have the potential to spread. They are rambunctious plants that are spread by underground rhizomes. While they make for excellent ground cover and very rarely cause any real problems in the garden, they can occasionally become quite weedy. After flowering is over, all asters should be cut back hard to ground level. This will encourage the clumps to spread and develop, and it is good practice to mulch over these plants in the autumn to protect them from frost and improve the ongoing fertility of the soil. Okay, now for Chapter Nine ... On Sunday, I take it easy. I spent all day Saturday gardening and doing chores, and my back is screaming at me now. I hate that my body keeps reminding me I’m not a spring chicken anymore. I have a movie on Sunday night in the bedroom when I hear another loud noise, followed by Hercules barking like crazy and then the cat hissing back. Oh, good grief, not this again. I’m ready to call animal control if this stupid cat won’t quit antagonizing my mutt. After a few minutes, Hercules enters my bedroom and jumps on the bed. “You sure told him, didn’t you?” I scratch his back, and he rolls over so I can pet his belly. It’s 9:03, and Brock is still in the attic working. Having a lawyer for a husband can be quite lonely. I grab some water and a few cookies downstairs, suddenly feeling all alone and a bit afraid. I can’t stop thinking about this person’s text message. If I do find the ring and give it to Gray, he can find out who it belongs to, arrest them, and then we can put this whole thing behind us. I have an idea. HEY, YOU BUSY? I text Leah. NO, WHAT’S UP? MEET ME OUTSIDE IN FIVE OK … WHAT’S THIS ABOUT, TRICE? JUST MEET ME. K After grabbing a small flashlight, I quietly open the door and step outside, keeping Hercules from following me, and then shut the door. It’s a balmy night. The stars twinkle in the nighttime sky, and I can hear the faint sound of crickets. It’s their mating time. Leah’s porch light comes on a few minutes later, and she opens the door. I scrunch my eyes in that direction. My eyes are starting to go blurry at far away distances, but I can see her walk across her lawn and then across the street. It’s eerily quiet tonight. “Okay, I’m here,” Leah says, folding her arms. I tell her what the person texted me about the ring and try to gauge her reaction. “Wow, this is getting insane, Trice. The fact that this person seems to know more about this case than the police is just weird and even disturbing.” “It is, and I keep feeling like it’s up to me to find this ring before the killer does.” “Trice …” Leah cocks her head and signs deeply. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right, but if I find this ring, we can get it to Gray and nab this person.” Leah looks taken aback. “ “Yeah, the thing is, I need someone to be my lookout while I see if I can find the ring in Deanna’s yard.” Leah looks at me like I have two heads. “You have got to be kidding me. You know how dangerous this is, right?” “Yes …” I bite my lip. “But, if you could just stay on the sidewalk, kind of obscure, I could do some searching. If a car comes by or you see anyone, you can duck behind the tree and text me. I have my phone.” “Trice, I have a bad feeling about this. Why can’t you just let the police handle it?” I get it, I really do, but if I don’t do it, the killer will find the ring, and our lead will grow cold. “Because this person, for some reason, wants to communicate with me. I can’t blow it.” Trice shakes her head and sighs. “If I do this, promise me whatever you find that you will take it to Gray and let them deal with it.” I lie and tell her I will. “Okay, I’ll give you 15 minutes. I told Trev you needed me to help you with something, but he doesn’t want me out this late, especially since they found Troy dead.” “Oh, thank you!” I hug her and then eye Deanna’s yard as I plan how to search it. After ensuring Leah was in an obscure spot, I carefully lift the police tape and slide under it, careful not to pull any of it down. I could have used my phone’s flashlight, but I want my phone free if Leah texts me. I push the LED flashlight on and crouch low. Ok, now the killer was searching right by what I call Troy’s grave. I drop to my knees and start searching with my free hand. I had previously pulled on my gardening gloves to protect my hands and ensure my prints couldn’t be detected. So, I begin to dig in the dirt, sweeping any leaves or mulch to the side. Even though it's warm with no wind, a cold shiver courses through my body. I can’t believe I’m doing this. After fifteen minutes, I get up, feeling dejected. I looked everywhere I thought it could be and didn’t find it. Of course, I never thought that the killer could have already found it, but then I remember what the person texted me. They wouldn’t have sent the riddle and subsequent message about finding it if it were found. “Psst,” I summon Leah. She comes over. “Did you find anything?” “No. It could be anywhere. Maybe the killer just dug the hole thinking it could be there, but who knows. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack, and to be honest, I feel like I’m going on a goose chase.” “You know, you could send an anonymous text to Gray about the ring. Would this person even know?” Leah just didn’t understand. “Believe me, they will know. I will have to come back another night and look some more.” “Oh no, Trice, do we have to?” I could tell it was bothering her. I didn’t want to put her in the middle. It’s not fair. “Lee, it’s OK if you don’t want to get involved. I wouldn’t blame you.” I could tell she was grappling with what to say. “I will help one more time, and then I just can’t do it again, and you shouldn’t either.” I could tell in her voice and on her face, and I knew. She was scared. I say goodbye to Leah, watch her walk across the street and inside her home, and then head for the door when I hear an unknown voice. “What are you doing?”

This is getting ridiculous; I punch in my response. WHO IS THIS, AND WHAT DO YOU WANT? I’m aware I’m responding in all caps, but then so are they. I wait to get a response, but nothing comes. Whoever it is just wants to play games, and I’m ready to call their bluff. LOOK, YOU RESPOND WHAT YOU WANT, OR I’M BLOCKING YOU Shortly after, a message appears. THEN YOU WILL MISS OUT ON THE ANSWER What answer? Wait, does this person know who killed Troy? I have to know. WHAT DO YOU KNOW? IF YOU ONLY KNEW … I abruptly stop where I am just before opening my door. Butterflies attack my stomach, and I suck in a deep breath.  I don’t respond. Suddenly, I feel eyes watching me, and I quickly open the door to safety. I shut the door behind me and hear Brock call out, “That you, Trice?” Of course, it’s me. Who else would it be? “Uh, yeah.” “I will be working late again. Court is in a few days, and I’m way behind,” I hear his yell from the attic. All he’s done is work. How can he be so far behind? But I’m tired and so head straight to bed and hope those four words don’t haunt me. ______________________________ Surprisingly, I wake up refreshed and can’t believe I slept so well. I look at my watch. It’s only 7:10 am, perfect for our walk. Hercules stretches and gets up from his doggy bed in the corner of the room. “Hey, Herc, ready …” I don’t need to finish the sentence because he jumps up, wags his tail, and darts for the door. “Hold on; I gotta get ready.” Fifteen minutes later, we shut the door behind us, and I head down the street; however, I stop and back up after I get past Deanna’s home as something catches my eye. The yellow tape still surrounds the property, but the crime scene has been tampered with. The hole is still there, but it looks deeper now, and adjacent to it, a smaller hole has been dug, but you wouldn’t notice it unless you came close. I know the police haven’t been here since Wednesday, and I’m sure there will be a warrant to search the house after Deanna has been questioned, but I’ve been watching the house to ensure no kids try and breach the tape and get curious, but this hole is fresh. Should I contact Gray, or maybe it’s a stray dog? Pickles left with the kids, so I know it’s not their dog, and Hercules is never out front without me. I’m so fixated on the spot that I almost ignore my phone buzzing. Another riddle. WHAT’S SMALL, GOLD OR SILVER, AND GOES ON FOREVER Oh, yay, more games. I say the riddle in my head, but it’s like my brain doesn’t want to work. Plus, Hercules keeps pulling on the leash. I’ll have to think about it on our walk. I start walking, and by the time I get to Jack’s house at the end of the street, it hits me: a RING! I punch the answer in my phone. VERY GOOD Then a thought bursts into my head. Did the killer leave evidence behind, like a ring? And, if he did, he returned to find it last night! When just moments before, I was enjoying our walk, with a mostly overcast morning and lower temps, I suddenly feel cold, but I have to at least get in a 30-minute walk, but as I cross the street and head west, I try not to let an ominous thought that the one who was in my backyard was the same person who was digging in the Carmichael’s yard the night before. LISTEN, I’M NOT A CHILD. STOP TREATING ME LIKE ONE, I quickly text. Whoever this is seems to enjoy playing these games, but I don’t. YOU’RE RIGHT YOU’RE NOT IF YOU FIND THE RING, YOU'RE ONE STEP CLOSER What does that mean? One step closer to what? Oh great, now  have to find a ring. What ring and where? Why don’t I just tell Gray, and then he can take it from there? But then, I would have to explain the rest of the messages, and then he will scold me for not telling him before. This person will stop texting, and what leads I have will be gone. No, I must keep this to myself … for now. _____________________________ It’s half past eight o’clock when I step out of the shower. I feel like I’ve been up for hours, and I need to run some errands before I need to get the Saturday chores done, which include trimming some gangly rose bushes, deadheading some petunias, and weeding – oh joy. I told Brock I would pick up his dry cleaning. No, I don’t iron and don’t judge me. Once I’m done with my errands, I pull into the driveway and click the garage door remote control, but before I pull in, I look to my right at Deanna’s yard.   I can’t think about that right now. And as Scarlett O’Hara says in  “I’ll think about that tomorrow.” It’s already getting warm, and the clouds that were obscuring the sun earlier have now moved on, and it’s a mostly sunny day. Shoot, I really wanted some rain. I slather myself with sunscreen, don my gardening hat, and grab my tool bucket. Even though it’s the weekend, I know Brock is working on his case, so I have no idea when I will see him today. I start in the front yard, getting as many weeds as possible. I trim some of the boxwoods and deadhead the flowers. Before I know it, an hour has passed, and I’m sweating. I take a big drink of my Gatorade and glance next door. What if I’m messing around trying to find the ring some night, and the killer returns and finds me? Then what? I need to speak to Leah; she could be my lookout. Almost as if this person can read my mind, they text: LET’S KEEP THIS BETWEEN US

At five minutes to 3:00 p.m., Leah and I plop down on her couch with iced tea and cookies. The TV is on Channel 2, and we sit in anticipation for the press conference that will either confirm or deny the dead male body found in Deanna’s front yard is Troy. “Oooo, here we go,” Leah says, increasing the volume. Gray is standing at the podium with the press snapping their cameras. I listen intently to the medical examiner’s findings. “I knew it!” I punch the couch. Leah’s eyes look dilated as her hand clamps over her mouth. Suddenly, I remember the riddle from the text message, and my stomach drops as if I just flew down a roller coaster. This person knows what he was poisoned with. OMG, what if I have been talking to the killer this whole time? I return my attention to the screen. The press starts in all at once, but Gray quiets them saying he would take a few questions, but then they wouldn’t hear from him until the investigation is complete. Leah shuts off the TV and turns to me. “You were right. I can’t imagine who would do this. I mean, Deanna doesn’t have it in her to poison him and then dump his body in her backyard.” “Yeah, Deanna doesn’t seem the type. But then who?” Shivers flood my body just thinking about everything that has transpired, especially these cryptic messages that keep popping up on my phone. Who is doing this and is it the same person who dumped Troy’s body? Another vision pops into my head, that of the night before when I I saw someone in my backyard. Have they come back to the scene of the crime? And why did they sneak around in my yard? So many questions swirl in my head. The phone buzzing in my pocket snaps me out, as I stare at the one-line message: TOLD YOU SO I slightly gasp but it was enough for Leah to say, “What happened?” Should I tell her? Maybe if she knows, I can have a witness … just in case. “I never told you this before, but I’ve been getting text messages since the discovery from an unknown number.” I give her the phone. “What?” Leah holds the phone up. “Trice, this is serious. You need to tell Gray about the messages.” I know she’s right, but I keep feeling that this person has to know more, and if I tell Gray, I won’t find out what. “Please, just hear me out. This person obviously has more information and confides in me, so I must follow this through.” “Trice, what if this person the killer? Did you think about that?” I did, but my instinct tells me they aren’t. “He or she could be luring you in so that you will trust them. I mean, I really don’t understand why they are even messaging you but be careful.” She hugs me, and I feel guilty for making her so concerned. “I will, but Lee, I really feel this person is helping to solve the crime. I don’t know why they chose me, but I have to keep this under wraps, OK? I haven’t even told Brock.” I feel worse that I haven’t told my husband, but he will say what Leah did and then take it one step further and go to Gray himself. I can’t let that happen. I go back to the house. The kids are watching a movie, the same as when I left them. I figured they would be fine while I watched the press conference for a few minutes. I find them riveted to the TV when I come down the stairs. This was probably the fourth time they had watched in the past two weeks. Claire was dancing, and the boys were mimicking their sister dancing. “Get your groove on, boys,” I chuckle. They immediately stop, embarrassed. Later that evening, when the grandkiddos leave, I prepare for the Beginners to Gardening club I started five years ago. Several ladies and a few men were interested, so we get together every week for an hour or two, rotating between homes and chatting about gardening. We have about fifteen in the club, but only about eight show up religiously. I get it; people have lives and sometimes can’t make it. This week, the lesson is about using a drip system for plants. It saves water and ensures that each plant gets an accurate amount of consistent water. Plus, some plants don’t like overhead watering. I start out the door but quickly send a message to this anonymous sender. OK, I’LL BITE. _______________________ When I get to Leah’s home, I hear the chatter of women and men talking about none other than Troy. I can already tell we won’t discuss gardening much. “Hi, guys,” I interrupt. “Hey, Trice,” Caroline pipes up. She’s the most active in our club and is my assistant, as she’s dubbed herself. She’s about a decade younger than me and owns a tech start-up company and has been successful so far. Her brunette hair is straight as a pin and just touches her chin. Her deep green eyes stand out amidst the dark brown eyeliner and smoky gray and rose eyeshadow she couples with pure black mascara. She almost looks exotic with her porcelain skin. “So, what do you think, Trice?” Laurie turns to me. It’s like she thinks I’ve been sitting here the whole time. “About what?” I sit down in one of the chairs Leah has provided. “About Troy being dumped in Deanna’s front yard, of course.” Laurie chuckles a little, and her dimples show slightly. She’s closer to Caroline’s age and has the popular cheerleader look we all love to hate. Her blonde hair snakes down her back, and she’s her skin is tanned from all the outdoor recreation she does. She and her husband, Ken, and their two children, 5-year-old Brooke and 3-year-old Ashley are mini me’s of Laurie. She dresses them the same, and their equally long, blonde hair shines. They all could be models.     “Well, I’m not sure. It’s definitely weird that this happened two months ago, but I don’t think Deanna had anything to do with it. If you would have seen her face. She looked shocked to her core.” “Yeah, makes sense, but the divorce was messy, and no one had seen or heard from Troy since then. It was like he …” “Vanished,” Yolanda finishes the sentence, staring off into space. Out of everyone in the group, Yolanda is the one who won’t take crap from anyone. Coming from a law enforcement family, her father taught her at a young age to defend herself, especially since they lived in the Bronx. When she was a teenager, they moved to Utah as her father took a job as the local police chief of Grantsville until he retired, and his son, Carson, took his place. That was twenty years ago. Yolanda confided in me that her brother would have probably led the gang life if they hadn’t moved. She’s in her late forties now, at least 5 inches taller than me, but still has the skin of someone in their 30s. Her brown skin is nearly flawless, and her short, curly hair frames her oval face perfectly. Her chocolaty eyes are large, with the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen, and no, they’re not fake. “Exactly,” Leah chimes in. “What gets me is that someone was bold enough just to dump his body in their front yard. I mean, they had to have done it at night, but no one heard anything? It just doesn’t make sense.” Heather, the youngest of the group, is like me. We love to watch true crime, and sometimes, after the meeting has ended, we will chat about the latest podcast episode. I’m envious of her youth and exuberance. She’s 27 or 28 years old and has an athlete's body. Her wavy ombre hair of blonde, brown, and black goes just past her shoulders, and her striking blue eyes are devoid of makeup. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear any, but she doesn’t need it. Her heart-shaped skin is olive, and her legs, her most prominent feature besides her eyes, go on forever. Of course, she’s 5’11, but with heels, she towers over everyone. “Nothing makes sense,” and before I can stop myself, I instantly regret what comes out of my mouth next. “I talked to Gray, and I think he knows more than what he’s leading on.” “Really?” “What, tell us?” “I knew it!” I become bombarded with questions from everyone in the group. Shoot, why didn’t I just keep my big mouth shut? I clasp my hands together. “Well, it’s just how he acted when I talked to him.” I mean, I did bother him at work, so I can see why he was impatient. “Right before I got off the phone, he said something that’s been bothering me.” All ten eyes are on me, waiting. “I told him I wish I knew who it was that was buried in Deanna’s backyard and his only words were, “If you only knew.” “Okay, he had to have known it was Troy then. Did he see the body when it was in the bag? I mean, that makes sense he would say that,” Laurie says. “Yeah, true, but it was the way he said it, as if this wasn’t a surprise that it was him. We all knew the marriage was in trouble a few years prior to the divorce, and I heard my fair share of yelling from both, but there has to be more to the story. I’m about 99% sure Deanna didn’t kill him, but then who did? He worked for the IRS, so maybe someone he audited it had it out for him.” Even as I said the words, I didn’t really believe them. “I heard that he had a gambling addiction, and partly why Deanna divorced him. He spent much of their savings on gambling, which was supposed to be the kid’s college fund. Maybe a loan shark got him,” Heather shrugged. Good grief, Heather and I need to quit watching so much true crime. “I didn’t know that,” Yolanda says. “But if that’s true, whoo boy, those thugs will kill and ask questions later.” She purses her lips together. We all nod. It wasn’t a secret that our little group didn’t have much love for Troy, seeing as he had an affair and then left Deanna and the kids. However, we never wanted him dead either. We talk some more and barely even mention gardening. What could I expect? Next week, we can chat about drip systems. Around 10:00, I say my goodbyes, with Leah saying we will discuss gardening next time. As I dart across the street, my phone buzzes, and I instinctively know who it is. READY FOR ANOTHER RIDDLE?

Sitting at dinner with Brock, my mind goes in a million directions. I can’t get the last words Gray said out of my mind. I’ve hardly touched my food when Brock turns to me. “Penny for your thoughts,” he says, dishing up some more mashed potatoes. I contemplate on whether to tell him I called Gray, even though he said not to, but I must tell someone. Another thing that strikes me as odd is that Deanna told the police she discovered the body at around 7:30, but I was going past her house at 8:15, and no one was out there, let alone a dead body that was dug up. I mean, she very well could have just gotten the time wrong as she was in shock. “I called Gray, and before you say anything, he wasn’t bothered by it,” the little lie flies out of my mouth. Brock raises his eyebrows. “Anyway, he told me the body was only a few months deceased, which is weird. I keep trying to figure out how someone just digs up a yard and tosses a body into it in a nice neighborhood. You know?” Brock sighs, the same sigh Gray made on the phone. “I wish you would just leave it alone, Trice. There’s nothing you or I or anyone else for that matter can do. The police are handling it, and I’m sure we will get more information once the medical examiner has done an autopsy. Until then, don’t let it become an obsession.” He pulls down his short-rimmed glasses to his nose and gives me  look, and then pushes them back up again. “Yeah, you’re right. There are just inconsistencies that I can’t quite understand.” Brock knows me all too well; he knows my true crime binge-watching, my hyper-awareness of everyone and everything around me, and he also knows I love watching murder mysteries. I’m a lost cause. A few hours later, I dump the remainder of my dinner into the disposal, turn it on, and watch as it sucks it up. A clanging noise causes me to flip it off quickly. Did a spoon or fork get caught in there? I put my hand in, but it’s clean. I listen to see if I hear it again. It’s probably just a cat, but curiosity and all that. I peer out the window. The sun has already gone down and is nearly pitch black on a clear night, so I can't see the backyard well. I don’t see anything and conclude it’s just a stupid cat, but then I hear Hercules start barking. Oh, here we go. He darts out the doggy door to the back and starts his, what I call, warning bark. He’s quite protective, so if anyone out there shouldn’t be, he uses the “Get off my lawn!” bark. I throw the door open and yell for him to knock it off, but he’s persistent. “Herc, there’s no one out here,” and yet, when I say those words, I don’t know if they’re true. I’ve always felt safe in my backyard, so I go out and over to where the mutt is, and he’s cornered; you guessed it, a black cat with piercing yellow eyes is hissing at him from where it perches in our Cottonwood tree. But then another movement catches my eye as it darts to the side and then is gone. I slap my hand to my chest, feeling my heart race.  Goosebumps form on my arms, and I instinctively wrap them around myself, scurry back to the door, and fling it open. “Brock!” I charge up the stairs to the attic, where I know he is. “What?” He doesn’t move when I get there, just studies papers before him. “I just saw someone in our backyard!” “What, when?” He stops and looks up at me as if I just told him the goldfish had died. “Just now. Come, quick!” I motion with my hands. “It’s probably just a shadow, Trice.” “No, it’s not.” At this point, he gets off his chair, pushes past me, and walks down the stairs and out the back. Whatever it was is likely long gone since he took his time. I follow him out, and Hercules is still growling at the cat, staring him down. This cat loves to taunt him and has been in our tree numerous times. It’s one of our backdoor neighbors, and by the look of him, the black cat with green eyes gets plenty to eat as I see him lay his chunky belly across a sturdy branch. He doesn’t care that Hercules is barking and trying to get at him. Cats are like that; they act like they own the neighborhood, and  the nuisance. “I don’t see a thing except that stupid cat,” he shakes his head. “Herc, no bark!” Of course, the mutt listens to Brock, but I tell him repeatedly, and it’s like our kids when they were younger, and they completely ignored me. “Someone was out there. I watched them dart off to the side and then take off.” “Trice, we have a fenced-in yard. You are seeing things. Maybe it’s time to lay off those true crime stories, eh?” Maybe he’s right. But I swear … Later that night, I’m watching another true crime story. Yes, I’m a glutton for punishment. This story features a local town that never had a murder until a decade ago, and then five women went missing in a month, and they knew a serial killer was out there. I sat there, watching the host, tearing up when she talked about the victims' families. I couldn’t imagine what those poor families had to endure. If That ever happened to my daughters-in-law, it would destroy my sons and Brock, and I. We love each of them like a daughter. I finally shut my laptop down at 10:30, the magic number to hit the sack. Brock hadn’t come in yet; he was still working on his case. I drift into a restless sleep and come wide awake at 3:30 when the sound of footsteps pounds on our hardwood floor. “Sorry, babe,” Brock sits on the bed, takes off his shoes, then climbs into bed. “Go back to sleep.” It’s not good for Brock to burn the candle at both ends, but I can’t think about that when all my body wants is sleep. ____________________________ The next morning is bright and sunny, and as I glance at my watch and notice it’s nearly 9:00 a.m., I bound out of bed. The kids will be here any minute. How did I sleep in? Brock is already gone, probably having only had 5 hours of sleep. I rush to get dressed and put on a little makeup so I don’t look like a ghost and get downstairs just as the grandkids punch in the Ring code and come bursting through. “Grandma, I’m hungry!” Chris makes a beeline straight to the kitchen. “Didn’t your mom feed you before you left?” That’s typically what happens. “Not today. She was running late.” I couldn’t blame her as I was too. I pull out the cereals and milk and let them have at it. So much for my walk. If I had gotten up at 7:30 like usual, I would have had time to take it before the grandkids showed up, but now, it’s too late. Hercules wags his tail. He knows we should be leaving, but I rub his head and say, “Not now, buddy.” He skulks away and heads out the doggy door. After I play some Xbox games with the boys and a princess game with Claire, I turn on Disney in the basement and let them watch something for a while. I turn on my laptop and type in Channel 2 News, and the first article that pops up is about the dead male body. Here we go … Every fiber of my being is screaming that the dead body is Troy. Who else would it be? If Deanna and the kids haven’t seen him since their divorce, and she has no idea where he is, the logical conclusion is that someone murdered him and then dumped his body in her front yard. And then a new thought gives me chills.

After our walk, I settle into doing some work and Zoom with a client about their marketing strategy for a new product they developed. It’s nearly 1:00, and I can take a break and grab some lunch. I decide to check out some information about arsenic. I know it’s a fast-acting poison that kills in minutes if given enough, but in smaller amounts, it causes gastrointestinal symptoms, including abdominal pain, diarrhea, heart disease, numbness, hair loss, convulsions, and even cancer.  I learned about it many years ago in one of my gardening classes when pesticides were discussed. As I read, I realize that arsenic is found in several things, either organically or non-organically, and it’s not that easy to get. One such source is pesticides. The use of arsenate pesticides has largely been eliminated in the U.S., but three states still have contamination, including Washington, Wisconsin, and New Jersey. You would have to be exposed, though, for longer amounts of time to have the systematic effects. So, how did the killer get arsenic? I scroll down, and this paragraph catches my attention. So, it can kill slowly or quickly, depending on its source and volume, and can be virtually undetectable.  If this person who texted me the riddle knows Troy was killed with it, how do they know? Am I really conversing with the killer? And why me? What do I have to do with any of this? I contemplate talking to Brock about the text messages. Obviously, someone is toying with me, but why? Is it to scare me, warn me, or something else? If I tell Brock, he will want to report it to the police, but I need to follow this and see where it leads. If I feel in danger, then I will go to him. I know he will be upset and hurt, but these messages maybe aren't meant to harm me but to inform me. I turn on the TV to see if any new information has come out since yesterday, but nothing so far. I know getting the medical examination report back can take days or longer, so I have to wait. I look around my kitchen, a stark contrast to Leah’s. We’ve lived in this house for thirty years when Ian just turned 5, and it looks like it. We have the same cherry oak cupboards and marbled white and black tile. The windows have a film I can’t see to remove, and our table is made from a dark cedar my brother-in-law gave us for our 20th anniversary that looks a little worn. We did redo our counters at the same time Leah did hers, as she gave us the wholesale discount from one of the suppliers of her interior design company. We chose a sleek white and black speckled granite that we did in both the kitchen and the bathrooms about five years ago and painted the walls beige throughout the house. A few accent walls of creamy white and smoky blue completed the look. I have Knick knacks on a few shelves in the corner back wall and one large square mirror to frame our table. And like Leah, I cut fresh flowers and arrange them weekly. The rest of the house looks lived in, especially when our grandchildren come over. Occasionally, we have sleepovers with all 8 of them. After playing games, we spread sleeping bags downstairs, give them pizza, popcorn, and drinks, and then they crash after watching TV for hours. Brock and I sit in the living room upstairs with a glass of wine and watch our show. We check on them, turn off the TV and lights, and head to our bedroom. It gives their parents a much-needed break, and we get to spend time with them, sugar them up, and then say goodbye. It’s a win-win. When we bought our home in 1993, we loved the layout. The three-story, 2800 sq foot property housed a large family room, den, and half-bath downstairs. A spacious living room, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom were on the main floor. Upstairs were three bedrooms with two more bathrooms – the master and the guest. All three boys had a room, with Josh and Ian upstairs and Eric in the basement since he was older. A small attic split the boy’s bedroom, and our room was across the hall, so we watched both monsters well. A master bath and guest bathroom down the hall was our saving grace. My oasis, though, is our backyard. Sitting on ¼ of an acre are several gardens I tend to, with a cobbled stone pathway that leads to the west and east gate, a water fountain over to the east corner with circular rows of perennials and annuals, including petunias, sweet alyssum, and lilies surrounding it. On the south side, a white vinyl fence is a backdrop for purple and yellow irises with different annuals in front that I plant every year. We also have a trampoline and playground for the grandkids on the east side of the house. A large wraparound deck on the bottom level attaches to a similar one on the top, so we have plenty of room to host barbeques and parties. And my favorite structure is the gazebo in the middle of our lawn which is the main attraction. I cut out the grass surrounding it and planted rows of pink and purple hydrangeas. Since they like shade more than sun, the gazebo protects them. I snap out of my trance and realize there’s not much food to eat after the grandkids ransacked it the day before, and since they are coming back tomorrow, I need to replenish the milk, cereal, and stuff for lunch and snacks. It’s expensive feeding four kids these days. _____________________________ After I pillage Walmart for anything and everything we would need for the week, I get home and check the TV for any news. I sit down on my plush tan couch and hope there's something, but I know there's likely not. When nothing shows, I turn it back off and then remember I would call Grayson, (Gray) The Chief of Police. I punch in his number and wait. “Chief Grayson,” he answers, sounding weary. “Hey Gray, it’s Trice. How’s it going?” “Well, let’s see, my dog died last week, the fridge is broken, and now I have a dead body we have yet to ID, and the press is breathing down my neck.” “Oh no, Peaches died?” He loved that dog and took her everywhere with him, but I could tell she was getting old and wasn’t sure how long she had left. “Yeah, bone cancer. The vet said she would have died of something, given how old she was.” I could tell he didn’t want to talk, as I could hear him sigh. Peaches was nearly 14, but losing your fur baby is still heartbreaking even though they get old. “So, what can I do for you?” Now, I feel bad for calling and doing what the press is doing, breathing down his neck about the dead body. “Not much, just wanted to say hi.” “Trice, I know you, and you don’t just call me to say hi, so out with it.” Shoot, now what do I say? “I just thought, you know, you can fill me in on the details of what happened at Deanna’s.” I cringe, knowing I’m wasting his time. He sighs again, this time heavily. “Look, right now, all I know is that Deanna discovered a male body yesterday morning around 8:00. She was shocked and didn’t know how the body got there or how long it had been there. She said nothing ever looked out of place, and she was afraid of what the police would ask her because she had no idea how it happened and when. From the looks of the body, it wasn’t there a very long time, maybe a few months.” I narrowed my eyebrows. “Only a few months, that’s it? That makes no sense. Someone had to have dug up her plants, dropped Troy in the ground, and then replanted them. Who would have done that and why?" He cocked his head. "What makes you think it's Troy?" Oh shoot, I didn't even think about what I was saying. “Come on, Gray. Who else would it be? He's been missing for two years. What father just up and leaves his family without a word and then never contacts them again?" He bows his head, and then I remember. His father did when he was 13. "Oh, Gray, I- I didn't mean ..." "No, you're right. Who does that? Unfortunately, more than you think." "I just don't think Troy would; he doesn't seem like someone that would abandon his family." But then, maybe I didn't know Troy as well as I thought I did because I never thought Gray's father would leave either. "Believe me, Trice, I hope not, but it may partially explain the dead body. But, seeing as he hasn't been heard of or seen for two years makes this case very strange. I mean, where has he been and why kill him now?" I take a chance. "What did Deanna say when you questioned her?" "Trice, you know I can't divulge that information." I tried. "But, I can say that she told one of my officers that she went out there regularly to weed but never saw anything suspicious.” Deanna  ? In all the time I have known her, I never saw her in the yard weeding. She watered and trimmed but did not weed. She told me it hurt her back, and they would return the next day anyway. That part is true. “Gray, do you know when the examination will be concluded?” “They promised me by end of week, but the full tox results won't be in for a week or longer.” So, in another two days. “Okay, thanks for humoring me.” “Did I have a choice?” He chuckled. “Not really.” Gray knows I’m a stubborn mule and won’t stop until my questions are answered, or problems are solved. Maybe that’s why I love gardening and marketing so much. There are always challenges to address and fix, and then you see the reward. “Well, I need to get some paperwork finished. Need anything else?” My thoughts race back to the unknown text messages, but I never say anything to Gray. “No, but thanks for the info. I just wish we had any inkling of why someone would do this.” But the following four words Gray utters to me haunt me the rest of the day. “If you only knew …”

The scene changes to earlier that morning, with Deanna speaking to a reporter from Channel 2 News. It looks like every state news channel is there and then some. She looks haggard and disturbed. I would be too if I just found a dead body in my garden. “Trice, who could she have found?” Leah whips her head to me. “I don't know. How long has a dead body been lying under her asters? That’s what I really want to know.” We continue listening. The scene changes back to the reporter at her now empty home. I’m sure she and the kids went to stay with her mom since their home was now cordoned off with yellow police crime tape. Leah and I both whip around to face each other. “No!” Leah says, her eyes widen. “Troy?” I whisper, even though I had my suspicions. Still, who could have done this and why? “I mean, I haven’t seen Troy since their divorce. I just figured she had full custody. He was cheating on her and had a temper,” Leah says. I knew he was cheating, as she would come over with tears in her eyes several times telling me he was, and then the confession one night when she could hear yelling and then him stomping away, peeling out of their driveway, with Deanna yelling after him never to come back. Thankfully, her kids weren’t home that night, so they couldn’t hear or see what was happening. That’s the last time I saw Troy. “Yeah, it just seems so odd that he would be discovered by Deanna two years later, in her   of all places,” Leah says. “Well, he had to have been killed recently, or she would have pulled up a skeleton, especially since bodies decompose faster when exposed to the elements. But, the body couldn’t have been buried that far down if just her digging under the asters uncovered it, well, I mean the hand. She did have several asters, though, enough to hide a dead body.” I scrunch my eyebrows, trying to piece together this mystery. “Yeah. I just find it unusual that with all the rain, nothing was unearthed until now. You know the storms we’ve had lately. Just last week, the rain made puddles in my driveway, and the wind was howling. I mean, asters are strong, but we had some hail, too,” Leah says, then her eyebrows shoot up. “Maybe that’s why she dug them up and was going to replant. I know the hail damaged some of my cosmos.” “Same with my petunias and large dahlias,” I offer. “I guess we  jumping to conclusions. We don’t have a positive ID on the body yet, so we shouldn’t say anything until we know for sure.” I was referring to my family and her husband. My kids or grandkids don’t need to know their friend’s father could have been murdered and buried in the front yard. “Yeah, true, but who else would it be?” Leah goes into the kitchen and grabs two glasses from her cupboard. She knows it’s iced tea time. I follow her into the sunniest kitchen I’ve ever seen, not because the sun shines through it, but because she painted her kitchen a bright yellow, which Trevor just shook his head and walked back out after she was finished. Still, she offset the color with light blue and green accents that tame down the brightness. Two windows sport light blue drapes swagged to the sides with white rope-like ties. Her granite countertops were white with speckled gray, and a rectangular white glass tabletop displays cut flowers in large vases that she changes weekly. She repainted her cupboards from a dull walnut to an off-white with glass doors that softened the look. And paintings of seashores during sunset on two walls complete the look. She mops her pure white tile every week, even though her grandkids rarely come over. She wanted a clean, sleek look that was also modern, bright, and fresh; she told me after the room was complete. I have to hand it to her - she knows design. After we ruminate for the next hour, I realize it’s getting close to dinner, and I bid Leah goodbye and scurry back across the street. My stomach starts to growl as I smell the smoky aroma of barbecue. When I hit the sidewalk, I glance next door and see yellow tape spread across the length of the house. I hate what it represents—that a crime was committed. It also just lowered our property value. I am stuffed after a delicious dinner of smoked ribs, potato salad, watermelon, grapes, and ice cream bars for dessert. The kids went home an hour ago, and I’m sitting in a hot bath, listening to my favorite True Crime Podcast,  The host covers murders that happen at night, and her voice is so soothing and empathetic that it draws you in, and most times, my imagination runs away with me as I think about the victim and their family and then the suspects, piecing together the behaviors and what led them to commit a crime. It's nearly eleven when I lay my phone down. Brock is downstairs working on his latest case. Lately, he’s been up past midnight. I’m an early bird, so it’s lights out for me. The last thing on my mind is the one question I can’t seem to understand: why did Troy just disappear two years ago? _________________________________ The next morning, a loud crack of thunder wakes me from a dead sleep. And then the rain pounds the roof. I turn and see Troy snoring softly. He could sleep through an earthquake. I’m tempted to throw the covers back over my head, but I have a client meeting at 8:30 sharp, and it’s 7:15, so I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom, careful not to wake Brock. He doesn’t typically leave for work until 9:00, so it won’t be another hour before he wakes. I swear, men could get up and be ready for work in 10 minutes. It's not fair. I look at all the creams I slather on every night and morning and envy my husband. I wish I could get up, throw on slacks, a shirt and tie, rake a comb through my hair, brush my teeth, grab coffee, and be out the door 15 minutes after I wake up.   After my meeting, I grab the leash; and before I know it, Hercules is at my side, wagging his tail. He knows it’s time for our daily walk. As I step outside, my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket. My heart skips a beat. I immediately know the answer: ARSENIC Was that what killed this person? I dart my head from side to side, suddenly feeling like a target. The street is empty, and it’s just Hercules and me. I feel uneasy but can’t let him down after wrestling with him, trying to put on the harness he hates. I decide to make it a shorter walk, and as I stroll by Deanna’s home, I nonchalantly peer over the fence to where the hole is, where the body was found. How could a grown male have been tossed in here, and no one knew about it? And asters aren’t that tall, well, at least the ones in our area, but you still have to dig at least a foot down with gallon-size plants, which I know they were since I bought them for Deanna after she had her little girl four years ago. Who dug them up to bury a body there, and when? They will die unless you dig up the whole root ball and then replant them, and it had to have been in the spring.   Someone had to know at least a little about gardening or could Google it. And that could be anyone.

I hope you're enjoying the book so far - again, let me know your thoughts! I'm on a roll and have written ten chapters so far. I write a chapter a day and then edit and proofread. I may not catch every grammar mistake, so if you see any, please let me know! I have a pretty thick skin from all my rejections thus far, so you won't hurt my feelings. A quick tip about Asters is that, in general, it's best to transplant them in the spring or fall. Spring is the best time to transplant if you live in an area with a cool climate. Fall is the best time to transplant if you live in an area with a warm climate. Now, onto Chapter Three ... As soon as I duck inside my house, my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket and see the message: HEY GARDENING GURU, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW THE SECRETS TO ASTERS? IT’S IN THE SOIL I look at the message, puzzled but also slightly freaked out. Who is this, and how did they get my number? Better yet, how did they know about my YouTube channel, and why did they mention ASTERS?? Goosebumps dot my arms, and my heartbeat accelerates. I get great comments on my channel, mostly from other gardening enthusiasts, but I’ve never had a message about it or the fact that a dead body was just found where my neighbor’s asters used to be. This is NOT a coincidence. “Hun, you look like you’ve seen a ghost ... or," he pats my stomach and grins, "like you’re going to be sick.” I know he's messing around, but he also wanted a girl every time I became pregnant. It just wasn't meant to be; instead, I got three rowdy boys that loved to scare their mother to death on more than a few occasions. “Yeah, right!” I playfully slap him on the shoulder. How could he think I was pregnant, for God's sake? It would be an immaculate conception, as Brock had a vasectomy after our youngest was born. There was no way I would have another boy if I could help it. “I would love a little girl,” Brock says, putting his arms around my waist. “A little mini Trice would be fun. I would dress her up in fancy dresses and parade her around, and when she turned into a moody teen, have a shotgun nearby in case one of the guys got handsy.” “Are you serious? You’d be nearly 77 when she graduated!” I chuckled. “Plus, you wouldn’t let her out of the house until she was 30.” “You got that right,” he said, then planted a big kiss on my cheek. “So, what’s up?” For a minute, I forget about this cryptic message I had received, but then it slams back into my thoughts. “Well, you heard the sirens, right?” “No, I was taking a shower.” “That had to be the longest shower in history, then,” I joke. “You know me and my showers, babe. I have to be pristine clean.” He smacks his lips. “That you do.” My husband is nothing, if not a clean freak. Call it OCD, but he was raised by a mother who religiously kept their home spic and span. He grew up doing chores, but not just any chores. His mom was a single mother since Brock’s dad died when he was 6, almost the same age I was when mine died. That’s what drew us together when we first started dating in the 80s. He was the only son with three older sisters, so he was the “man of the house” and was expected to do what his father would have done. This meant plumbing, electrical, mowing, and even farming. His grandfather taught him to “take care of your momma and sisters,” and he swore he would. From that day forward, he kept his word. In fact, sometimes, he still travels to help his mother and sisters out, even though they live in Iowa. “So, the police found a dead body in Deanna’s flower bed!” “Say what?” Brock looks at me and then laughs. “I’m dead serious,” and then realized that was the most inappropriate pun for this conversation. “Haha,  now that’s a pun if I ever heard one.” I was getting frustrated, wanting him to take it seriously. “Yes, they just removed a dead body not more than 30 minutes ago. I was walking by the house and saw a big hump right where her Asters were, and then on my way back, there were police, firetrucks, an ambulance, and the medical examiners at the house. The hump was gone, and a big hole took its place. You should have seen Deanna's face. She looked terrified. But then I would be too if the police had just discovered a dead body in my yard. But I don’t understand how and when someone could dump a body and why. Did Deanna know? Did she contact them? It’s all so weird,” I say, drifting off into my world of imagination. “Oh wow, that’s crazy,” Brock ran his fingers through his almost silver hair. He’s three years older than I am, turning the big 60 soon, and is self-conscious about his black hair that has “turned old,” as he has put it. Well, duh … he’s no spring chicken anymore, even though he doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him, but his wrinkles are becoming more prominent on his light olive complexion, whereas mine have been there for a least a decade. Still, his blue eyes attracted me to him, and all three of my boys are the same color. “I need to talk to Grayson,” I mention the Chief of Police’s name, the one I grew up with. Grayson (Gray) Errington had always wanted to be a police officer. We dated a few times. He was 18, and I was 16, but in a small town, you took what you could get, and Gray was a cute guy that all the girls wanted to date. Not too short or too tall, Gray had a chiseled face with one small dimple that drove the girls crazy. It didn't help that his eyes were pure brown, and when he smiled, you swooned (yeah, I sound like Sandy in   when she describes Danny and the time they spent that summer.) He had boasted that he never had a cavity, and I often wonder if he whitens his teeth. “Trice …” Brock’s tone tells me what I already know. I shouldn’t go digging into something that’s not my business. But it is since it’s my next-door neighbor. I look at him innocently. “What? I need to know who that was.” “Let the police handle it. I’m sure once they know, everyone in town and the country will know.” He knows me too well. I love true crime and always watch YouTube videos of it or listen to podcasts about it. I know it’s rather macabre, but learning about the suspect’s motives is fascinating. I get educated on what to look for, especially in a small town where supposedly nothing happens. Except it does, and it did, and it's right next door. “Killjoy,” I mutter, going into the kitchen. “Grandma, I’m starving,” Chris looks at me with   puppy dog eyes. “Okay … why are you telling me? You’re old enough to grab your breakfast.” “But we  your French toast,” he says, eying his little brother, who chimes in with, “Yeah!” I roll my eyes at them but give in. “Fine.” All four boys, including Brock, and Claire, punch the air. When I’m not feeding the monsters, tending to my gardens, or cleaning the house and doing all the ‘Grandma’ stuff, I’m on my computer as a marketing consultant for large and small corporations. I love that I can work whatever hours I want, without bosses, coworkers, or the “culture” of companies that want you to be great at foosball or escape rooms. That’s just not how I work. I like connecting with my clients, and if they’re local, I will meet them somewhere to discuss their marketing goals. Some of my longtime clients also follow my YouTube gardening channel. Hey, you have to nurture them to keep them. So, I give them special discounts on gardening supplies and equipment from companies that sponsor me. It’s a win-win situation. Later that day, after the house was clean and I had worked in the garden for a few hours, weeding, pruning, and digging up some bushes that didn’t make it through our last windstorm, I sat on my deck swing, drinking a cold glass of iced tea. It was 92 today, and I downed my water bottle three times. I’m not a sun bunny, weird as that may be, since I love gardening. I would be perfectly happy with year-round temps of 70 degrees on a partly cloudy day. Watching the clouds drift by, sneaking in and out of the sun, and a slight breeze would be heaven to me. Since that message from earlier, my phone has not buzzed. I told Leah I would come over later in the day. After noticing it’s already close to 5:00, I quickly text, asking if this is a good time. SURE I tell Brock I’m heading over to Leah’s but will be home for dinner in an hour or two. He’s playing X-Box with all three boys, and Claire is coloring, her legs swaying under the desk and her blond pigtails matching the beat to a YouTube Kids video she’s watching on her iPad. He waves me away. “See ya,” is all he said. I had already planned on him grilling tonight, and earlier, I made a salad and had fresh fruit chilling in the crisper. After brushing my hair and dabbing on some makeup, I walk across the street. I turn and look at Deanna’s yard and the same hole with the same yellow tape flapping in the breeze. No one was outside. Of course, I wouldn’t have my kids out there with a hole they could fall into. It reminded me that I still needed to talk to Gray sometime soon. I rap on the door and wait. Leah flings the door open and ushers me inside. “Quick, come!” I follow her as she drags me to their large TV screen in their gorgeous living room. The news is on, and Deanna’s home is front and center. “Listen,” she says, then motions for me to sit on their tan leather couch. A reporter is talking.  I sat riveted to the TV, but all I could think of was the message I had received earlier, and which was likely on everyone's mind. Could it really be him?

A police car, ambulance, and fire truck were lined up at my neighbor’s house, and a body zipped in a black bag was lying on a stretcher. My hand flew to my mouth. What the ever-living just happened? I had heard sirens on my walk, but I always heard them and thought nothing of it. Why would I ever think they were coming to my neighbor’s home? It was our day to watch Chris, Clay, Connor, and Claire, and yes, trying not to screw up their names was difficult. On more than one occasion, I would call the 10-year-old triplets by each other’s names. Claire, the 7-year-old, would just roll her eyes. “Grandma, you will never get it right.” I had to hand it to her. She knew her grandma well. As we get closer to the house, I watch as they are camped out on the sidewalk, just staring, along with other neighbors, more coming by the minute. Breathless, I let Hercules pull me to where they were, his tail wagging. “Boys, what’s going on?” “Don’t know,” Chris said. “Heard the sirens and came out. My eyebrows scrunch inward as I think about the hump I saw just an hour earlier that, now as I look, has been dug up and the hole emptied. So that’s what that was. But who is it? The thought makes my stomach flip flop. My across-the-street neighbor and good friend, Leah, scurried across and met us. “Oh my, what happened?” “We’re still trying to figure it out.” Leah Abernacky, no, not Abernathy, has been my friend for 20 years. She and her husband, Trevor, and their four kids moved in close to the same time we did, and apart from her impeccable style as an interior designer and the fact that she always looks like she’s hitting the red carpet, we are two peas in a pod. We’re the same age, height at 5’5, and have dark brown hair with silver streaks peppered throughout, and we both love gardening. Our boys are also the same age – Jason and Jared are 33 and 31, and her twin girls, who are gorgeous and own a law firm, just turned 29. However, neither is married, and her two boys are across the country in New York, married and with three kids between them; however, she only sees them once a year. So, she told me when my grandkids arrived that she would adopt them as her own and dub them her by-proxy grandkids. Today, she’s wearing black yoga pants and a white tank; her medium-length, dark brown hair, is pulled into a tight low ponytail. I know she just finished working out. At 57, she looks fantastic. But it wasn’t always like that. After gaining nearly 50 pounds several years ago and developing high blood pressure, her doctor told her to lose the weight and start exercising, so she didn’t end up having a heart attack or stroke. She took it to heart and is now a fitness fanatic, and you can tell, as she has a slim waist and somewhat of a six-pack and bulging arm muscles that put mine and our whole blocks to shame. Even though I walk, garden, and occasionally hike, I can’t compare to her two-hour daily workouts that would kill me – no joke. She also has minor wrinkles, and I swear she has Botox done. “I just finished my workout when I heard those god-awful sirens and thought the worst.” She hugged me fiercely, nearly knocking the breath out of me. “I don’t know what I would have done if it had been your house they were going to.” “Oh Lee,” my nickname for her. “Same.” We all watched as the police interviewed Deanna as she stared off into space. Her eyes were fixated on the spot where they found the body. Her long blonde hair looked mussed up, and tears slid down her cheeks. I could tell she was shaken up as she wrung her hands against her black tank top, and her left foot was shaking, making her gray baggy shorts go up and down. She shook her head several times. I couldn’t see the kids and wondered if a relative had come and was watching them inside the house. A horrible thought came to my mind, and I gasped … no, it couldn’t be, could it? “What?” Leah turned to me. “I just thought of who could be in the bag.” We both were thinking the same thing – Troy. “ Just an hour ago, as I started walking down the street, I saw this hump right where they found the body.” “Really?” her eyes widened. “Yeah. It was … odd, but I didn’t think anything of it since she’s always killing her plants from insufficient water or too much, or whatever. You know what I mean.” Leah nodded. Deanna wasn’t much of a gardener; that was her ex, Troy’s, passion. He sure knew how to grow herbs and vegetables and liked that more than the flowers. Still, he wanted the yard to look nice, so he agreed when I mentioned the David Austin roses. They lined his white vinyl fence, which pretty much borders every house on the block, with stunning yellow, white, red, and pink bushes that smelled heavenly. Just shortly after he left, I noticed the asters and figured Deanna put them in. The following year, they blossomed in the spring, and I recalled how pretty they were and that they fit the area nicely. However, the roses overgrew the area, and the weeds started piling up alongside the fence. But with three kids in tow and Deanna needing to work, there just isn’t time to garden, as she has told me repeatedly. I completely understand as she looks haggard these days. When Troy first left, it devastated her. She didn’t eat and barely looked after the kids. Her mother came to live with them for a while and helped while Deanna worked two jobs. Even though she had alimony, it wasn’t enough. I haven’t seen Troy since he left. I figured there would be joint custody, but I never saw him come for the kids, which I thought was strange and heartbreaking for them. I look around the street, and a crowd has gathered by now. People taking pictures with their phones and whispering and pointing. Sometimes, I hate social media because you know that’s where the pics end up and gossip starts, and before you know it, the whole street becomes a tourist attraction. I’m not sure when we will find out who was buried there, and by the looks of it, Deanna won’t be telling us anytime soon. The police also won’t say anything until an identity is discovered. Still, I knew the Chief of Police as I went to school with him. Maybe I can get something out of him – just not yet. “Grandma, what’s in the black bag?” Connor asks innocently. I don’t know how to answer him. “I don’t know, sport.” Even though the boys are all the same age, Connor is more mature and the most sensitive. He also has high-functioning autism and is a brilliant kid. “It’s a body, dummy,” Chris chimes in – the least sensitive of the three and the one without a filter. “Chris!” I turned to scold him. “Why did you have to say that?” “It’s true. The kid has to learn sometime about dead bodies.” If this kid weren’t my grandson, I would be quite tempted to reach over and throttle him. He knows his brother has a difficult time with trauma, especially because he did learn about dead bodies when someone shot a neighbor kid when he was only seven years old. My son and his family had lived in an apartment complex in Portland, Oregon, and while Connor was walking home from school, a fight broke out in one of the apartments, and he saw a teen shoot another teen, who then went down. Connor stared at the blood pooling around him and ran home. He didn’t speak for nearly a week after. It was also the same year he was diagnosed with autism. Connor crowds closer to me and grabs my hand. My heart melts. “It’s okay.” A 7-year-old shouldn’t have to witness death at such a young age.” How do I know? My father passed when I was only Connor’s age. Sometimes, people die when they’re young. The opposite neighbor to Deanna had come to see what was going on, and as I watched, he stood there with a slight grin, his arms folded. I glare at him. He never liked the Carmichaels, especially Troy. “He’s so damn loud,” I heard Jack Montgomery say once a few years ago. “Always blaring his music at 7:00 in the morning while I’m trying to sleep.” Jack is a truck driver and is on the road more times than not. His wife, Cindy, and their two kids are recluses. Cindy is paranoid about anyone coming by, or as she says, “skulking about the street.” The 12- and 14-year-old girls, Brianna and Bridget, keep to themselves and don’t do what typical girls their age do. Cindy even homeschools them. It’s like their prisoners. Jack couldn’t care less what they do since he’s never around, but Cindy was attacked when she was a teenager, and since then, she has developed a panic disorder and is mainly agoraphobic, meaning afraid of open spaces. She told the girls of her harrowing experience, which frightened them so much that they thought the world was a dangerous place, and if they went out for more than a few minutes, someone would attack them like they did their mother. Cindy works from home as a computer programmer, so it works for her. She can constantly “keep an eagle’s eye on them and the street,” she told me once. I feel for her and her girls. Life isn’t meant to be fearful.   Leah hugs me. “Got to go, but let’s chat later, k?” I nod and watch as she jogs across the street. “All right guys, the show is over,” after the vehicles left, one by one, and yellow police tape surrounded the now empty spot in their yard. “Oh, come on, Why can’t we stay outside? It’s summer,” Clay moaned. Yeah, that’s not the reason, and they know it. “Boys?” I plant my hands on my hips, which the boys know means case closed. Claire obediently follows me while the boys take their sweet time. As I said before, Heaven help her. As I start towards the door, I can still see Jack staring at me before he turns and walks away. It sent shivers through me. But the one thought I can't get out of my head is Troy. There are so many questions now that a dead body has been discovered. Why have I never seen or heard from him? Deanna and I have had plenty of coffee chats; she never mentioned him. And then I start connecting the dots, and it dawns on me. It’s almost like he … vanished.

As stated in my last post, I am pairing gardening with murder in the new novel series I have started to write. I have now written 7,500 words, and the first chapter is below. However, before diving into it, let's discuss the beautiful aster. Here are some facts and tips for planting them: Asters are known for up to 600 species, but there are mainly two best known in North America: New England and New York, with the latter growing to 4 feet tall with a thicker stem and textured leaves. The Aster is a sunflower family member, even though they can be mistaken for daises, and their yellow centers are clusters of mini flowers called florets. In ancient times, asters were burned to ward off negative energy and used for headaches, muscle aches, and colds. Asters have been used to mark the passing of a loved one but are also associated with patience, good luck, love, and feminine energy. These star-shaped flowers bloom in spring and fall in colors from soft blues to fiery reds. They like full sun to part shade in zones 3-8 and can grow anywhere from 1-8 feet. They attract pollinators like crazy and love to be paired with coneflowers and hydrangeas. Ensure they have moderate water, well-drained soil, and look out for aphids, slugs, snails, and lace bugs. Plant about 18 inches to 2 feet apart to give them plenty of room to grow. Fertilize in spring and early summer, but don't overfeed them. Okay ... now delve into the murder mystery starring Patrice Summers. And please, give me your honest feedback on the chapters. You are my readers, and I need constructive criticism if I am to make this series successful. Chapter One: Gone in a Split Second I wasn’t always a green thumb. It took years of watching my parents, learning from them, mimicking some of their habits, and then developing my own - a lot of tests, failures, and, yes, much success too. But after years of planting thousands of flowers, herbs, vegetables, and fruits, I had a pretty good knack for gardening. But I know some people with the brownest thumb ever; still, my neighbors seem to have some nice gardens. So, it wasn’t entirely odd as I strolled down the sidewalk for my daily walk with my mutt, Hercules, you know, patterned after the buff mythical legend, that I noticed a large hump in the front of my neighbor’s yard that used to house about 3-foot tall, gorgeous deep purple asters that bloom in the spring and early fall. New buds were just starting to form for Autumn. However, all you could see was a large mound of dirt now, while everything else around it was full of perennials, like Dahlias (my favorite), Echinacea, Lilies, and David Austin Roses – breathtaking and aromatic ones that you have to bend over and smell, even if it makes you look like a loon. I could think of a million reasons why the asters that I helped plant were missing: the plants bit the dust (they were looking a little sad the last few days), and Mrs. Carmichael plucked it out and just left the dirt for future planting. A gopher or vole decided to take up residence and dug their way to China. This year, They were particularly bad with all the home-building in our neighborhood. Or, their mangy mutt, Pickles, dug up a bone he had hidden and then covered up his tracks. I didn’t think anything more of it, eager to get my walk in before the heat of Utah’s summer snuck up on us. I call it Bipolar Utah because one minute it’s sunny and hot, and the next, the wind is howling, the rain is barreling down on you, and the temps drop 15 degrees – in July. Or it’s snowy in January, and a week later, an Indian summer hits, and the temps rise 15 degrees. It’s just weird and something you can’t predict. Still, something makes me slow my steps as I walk by, and I see the two-story white brick home, with cerulean blue shutters and door and closed white blinds to be devoid of any life. Typically, I observe Deanna Carmichael out tending to her garden or mowing the lawn. Her boxwood shrubs line her fence that borders mine, and some huge variegated yellow and white hostas frame her bay window. Our homes face the north, which is perfect for the perennials, as they like shade. Her home is beautiful and bigger than mine, but her yard is smaller, and mine isn’t. She wanted height, whereas I wanted length. Our house is still two stories, but we have more acreage to work with, particularly because we are the last house on the street. I have several gardens in my backyard, with a few smaller gardens in the front fenced yard. The red Asiatic lilies form a nice border along the west side fence with yellow Gaillardia tucked underneath them. On the other side, tall boxwoods line the fence. In front of our basement-level window are golden elderberries forming a privacy hedge and trailing around to the side. Depending on my mood, I may grow some annuals or plant some tulips and daffodil bulbs underneath. My goal was to have a 3-season garden, and I accomplished it. It's not too early as I glance down at my Apple watch that reads 8:10 AM. Usually, the kids ride their bikes down the street with the four-year-old on her tricycle on the sidewalk, trying to keep up with them. She has three kids, two rowdy boys named Cory and Baxter, who are 8 and 11, close to the same ages as my grandkids, and “princess” Melanie, to which the strawberry blond, blue-eyed, and dotted freckles refers to herself. Her ex-husband, Aaron, left them two years ago for his therapist – yes, you heard that right – therapist. Melanie was a year old.   Snapping back to reality, I was making too much of it. They could have gone on late summer vacation before the kids returned to school in a few weeks, to the park, or even up to one of our beautiful lakes. scold myself, which I often do when my vivid imagination runs wild. My nickname has stuck with me throughout my life, and even though my legal name is Patrice, people still call me Trice. As long as they don’t call me “Pat,” I’m good. That just seems like such a boring name with no life or adventure. Still, my maiden name isn’t all that glamorous – Patrice Lockhart. When I got married, it wasn’t all that much different – Patrice Summers. Still, I’m known as “The Gardening Guru of Grantsville” on my YouTube channel. I’d say it’s a successful video series on gardening, with 345,000 subscribers, which is not nearly as many as some channels, but I’ll take it. At first, it was just some gardening tutorials for my kids and something my grandkids could look back on and tell their friends or spouses that their grandma was a YouTube star. But then I started to get followers and then more. That was three years ago. My goal is to hit 500,000 by the end of summer. Between that and gardening, I also have a small marketing consultant business. The city is in northeast Utah and isn’t known for much, except for many farmlands and newly developed homes that started exploding in the last twenty years. On second thought, it’s not really a small town anymore. My neighborhood was part of that explosion, even though I grew up here just a mile or so down the road. When my husband, Brock, and I decided to set down roots with our three monsters, Eric, Josh, and Ian, we wanted a safe place where boys could be boys but still keep a close eye on them so they didn’t terrorize the neighborhood. They’re grown and left the nest now with families of their own. Eric is married to Sirena and with four kids of their own – three boy triplets - and one girl (Heaven help her). Josh is married to Samantha, and they have two kids, a boy, Sam, and a girl, Jessie (Jessica), and Ian and Stephanie (yes, all three of my daughters-in-law have S names) have just the one – for now – little Clarise, yes, the same name from the movie . It was my son’s favorite movie, which I thought was odd, and even more odd that he would name his firstborn girl after Jodi Foster’s character of the same name. Still, I loved how much acreage was here; it allowed me to experiment with my gardening and have plenty of area for the grandkids to play after me, and Brock spoiled them with a playground that even my kids never had. Plus, I didn’t have to worry about the Homeowners Association (HOA) breathing down my neck on how many plants I could put in or that my lawns had to be mowed a certain way or length. No, this was under my control and no one else’s. My gardening has been a passion for the last 30 years, and as my mother used to say, “It’s a labor of love, emphasis on labor.” She’s not wrong. Gardening is hard, but the rewards of seeing a colorful display of perennials and annuals hugging my bay window and snaking around to the side of my home, plus twin gardens that marked our pathway to the front door, were always aesthetically pleasing to anyone walking or driving by. On more than a few occasions, while I was out, I had people stop by on their walk and remark how beautiful our yard was, particularly my roses. I chose the best of the best – David Austin – which is probably why our neighbors put some in with my insistence. I beamed with pride that day. It was a balmy Wednesday morning, the air still cool and crisp. This year, the summer temps got to over 100 several times, which isn’t that unusual for our area, but it happened in early July, which doesn’t happen until the end or even into August, so the local meteorologist dubbed it a “heat wave.” Now that we’re in the middle of August, it’s still hot, but not nearly as hot. Some of my flowers loved the heat, while others needed tons of water and some shade to survive. Luckily, my tomatoes, peppers, onions, cucumbers, and zucchini in backyard raised beds were loving it. I hear the distant sound of doves as I round the corner. The breeze starts to pick up, and a few clouds obscure the sun allowing for a brief reprieve from the heat. It’s been almost an hour, and the sun beats down on me, the sweat prickling my neck and forehead. I try to powerwalk at least half of my daily walk to get the fat-burning effects, and so far, it’s paying off. According to my Apple watch, I’ve lost 6 lbs. in the last two months, averaging around 5,000-8,000 steps daily. I couldn’t very well blame it on the baby fat since I haven’t had any babies for decades, but the dreaded “M” my mother used to call it has arrived, and it’s the pits. I’m either hot flashing several times a day or drenched in sweat at night, tossing and turning to get comfortable. Thankfully, Brock sleeps like the dead and is typically up late doing casework in the kitchen before crashing on the couch most nights. He has a large, high-profile case coming up that would make his firm millions. Brock and I will celebrate our 35th anniversary next month while he’s in court. Yep, he’s a defense attorney and a damn good one at that. He works for one of the largest firms in Salt Lake City, making the nearly 45-minute drive into the city daily. When he comes home, he’s mentally tired, but he still manages to play with Eric’s kids, whom I watch twice a week in the summer, while his wife has a part-time job at the local farmer's market. He’s a whiz at grilling, so in the summer, we eat burgers, hotdogs, chicken, steaks, and his favorite, baby back ribs smothered in smoky barbecue sauce. Our yard smells like a steak restaurant nearly every day. Some weekends we host a barbecue for the street. The young and old women swoon over his cooking skills, and the men are jealous of them. I do a loop with my walk, going down about ten blocks and then turning back and returning in the opposite direction. This is three days a week; the other three days, I go to the opposite side of the neighborhood for some change in scenery. I take Sundays off. This time, I decide to come back the way I came. Hercules had already marked his territory on every post, fire hydrant, and bush he could find, and his slowing down and panting told me he was tired. He was getting on in years as I was and would turn ten at the end of the year. Still, the vet said to take him for daily walks to ensure he stayed fit. He should live longer than a purebred because he’s part Blue Heeler and German Shepherd. As I cross the street and head home, I pick up my speed, making the last stride with a renewed energy burst. However, when I hit our street, I stop in my tracks and stare. Whatever burst I had was gone in a split second.

Yes, now is the time to start thinking about your fall garden, even though we hit 98 degrees a few days ago and will likely hit 100 this weekend in my state. However, fall will arrive sooner than you think, so let's "fall" into the best plants for autumn. Chrysanthemums, affectionately nicknamed mums, are a must-have for autumn gardens. This perennial is hardy and packs a colorful punch with yellows, oranges, reds, purples, and whites. Place them in a container or your landscape in the late summer, and they will bloom all of fall. Zones 5-9 Pansies love the cool weather, but they are no pansy when it comes to handling winter in some areas. I live in Zone 6B, which means I get snow in the winter and temperatures as cold as 5 degrees. But I've had pansies withstand the cold and return the next year. And if you had them blossoming in spring, chances are, they will come back for fall and put on a lovely display. If not, buy some at your local nursery and dress up a summer container or nestle them among your bushes that may be starting to lose their seasonal color. Zones 3-8 Primrose also enjoys the cooler weather, and these vibrant flowers also can handle the shade. The Primula genus boasts of at least 500 species, with an infinite number of hybrids and cultivars. With a hardiness zone of 3-8, you can grow them pretty much anywhere, and they will return yearly. Be careful, though; they're toxic to humans and pets. Asters show up in early fall and give a much-needed renewal of life from the summer heat. The New England Aster is often found in meadows and in full sun. If you have plenty of space, let them go wild, if not, there are compact plants you can get. They will spread but will get a maximum of a few feet. Zones 3-8. Ornamental cabbage and kale can spark up a container with their purple hues. In fact, the colder it gets, the more vivid their colors tend to be, even putting on a deep pink or fuchsia show. Show them in the center of pots with sweet alyssum bordering them, and you will enjoy a beautiful display. They will even flower! Zones 2-11 will overwinter in many areas. Oakleaf hydrangea thrives in cooler weather. With firey-tinted leaves, they create a blaze of color. They blossom with cone-shaped heads that open white, turn red in late autumn, and then pink in winter. They grow about 6-8 feet tall, so perfect for a privacy hedge. Plant in part shade in zones 5-9 Fountain grass shines in autumn and, with theof the wind, sways gallantly. The soft texture of the bottlebrush-like heads enhances fall gardens and makes perfect additions to bouquets. Some may even boom into winter when all other plants die off. Plant in late summer sun when the humidity is high, and it will thrive! Zones 5-9 With the changing colors of autumn, you can enjoy a garden full of color, structure, and beauty. Happy Gardening!!

Julia Nielsen Lehi, UT | 801.636.3788 | julialn72@gmail.com Professional Summary      A complished and Strategic Marketing Manager, including as a Partner Marketing Manager for Amazon Web Services (AWS) and Intel, with 5+ years of experience in developing and executing marketing strategies, including SEO content, social media, Google Ads, and Paid Search. Highly skilled in leading high-performing teams, crafting compelling content, and optimizing digital marketing campaigns for maximum ROI. Adept in managing content calendars, spearheading content updates, and managing accounts Technical Skills Business to Business (B2B), Business to Consumer (B2C), WordPress, Marketing Development Fund (MDF) Management, Google Analytics, Salesforce, SEO, SEM  Professional Experience Freelance Content Specialist | Lehi, UT | August 2024 - Present Crafted compelling and original content tailored to diverse client needs and target audiences by adapting writing styles for various platforms and formats and utilizing search engine optimization tools, resulting in 25% website traffic Conducted thorough research to ensure accuracy, credibility, and depth of understanding for all writing projects by maintaining up-to-date knowledge of industry trends, leading to client satisfaction Managed multiple projects simultaneously, consistently meeting deadlines and communicating effectively with clients to address questions and incorporate feedback, ensuring client retention Self-edited and proofread all work to ensure high-quality, error-free deliverables, demonstrating strong attention to detail and commitment to excellence. Sparkz Marketing |  Pleasant Grove, Utah |  Oct 2023 - July 2024 Director of Sales Lead Generation/Content Manager Developed and executed lead generation plans, increasing leads by 70% via content marketing management, including writing and editing blogs, social media posts, landing pages, emails, SMS, and more Recruited, led, and inspired a high-performance lead generation team, fostering collaboration and continuous improvement Conducted market research and analysis to identify trends and shape effective strategies, including designing and scheduling social media posts, which garnered a 72% increase in traffic and conversions within 6 months for internal and clients Implemented cutting-edge tools and technologies to optimize lead generation processes, including skills with Canva, Asana, GoHighLevel, and Zoho Scorpion Design | Lehi, UT (remote) Marketing Manager | 2022 - 2023 Spearheaded accounts for 24 franchise clients as an account manager in the Enterprise department, including Del Taco and World Gym, utilizing SEO and SEM strategies Utilized strategic marketing plans by assessing data analysis and holding monthly reporting and insights meetings, resulting in $80,000 in upsells  Created website content and directed social media marketing campaigns by leveraging strategies to increase online visibility and customer engagement, resulting in 2 closed sales Developed a marketing strategy that achieved 60% visibility for new products on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Google+, resulting in 10k organic social media impressions and a 25% increase in website traffic MarketStar | Lehi, UT (remote) Partner Marketing Manager | 2022-2022 Developed a marketing plan by onboarding partners onto the Intel marketing platform, explaining how their marketing development funds (MDF) can be used for marketing activities, resulting in a 20% increase in brand awareness, improving product positioning and online reputation Promoted new marketing services by pitching their benefits and market value to achieve superior customer service interactions, resulting in an 80% increase in sales Using a good line of communication by ensuring strategic monthly reports and informative emails and messages, resulting in maintained strong customer retention and increasing average order size by 25% bChannels | Lehi, UT (remote) Partner Marketing Manager | 2021-2022 Generated $70,000+ in marketing services within a 90-day window by effectively managing Marketing Development Funds (MDF) for 50 tech companies as a Partner Marketing Manager for AWS Developed and executed comprehensive marketing strategies by driving brand awareness, increasing customer acquisition, and generating leads Analyzed market trends and competitor activities to identify opportunities for growth and adjust marketing strategies accordingly, which resulted in a 22% average increase in qualified leads Created comprehensive marketing reports/presentations by using Amazon Web Service's platform, which resulted in a 34% increase in webinar participation Led market segmentation projects, identifying key customer segments and developing targeted marketing campaigns, resulting in a 40% increase in conversion rates REVITY Marketing Agency | American Fork Content Marketing Director | 2019 - 2020 Collaborated with cross-functionally relevant departments to create and refine unique content for 120+ clients by researching keywords for maximum impact and traffic, resulting in a 30% increase in traffic. Demonstrated expertise in inbound marketing techniques and search engine optimization (SEO) by utilizing tools like Google Keyword Planner, SEMrush, and Moz, which led to a 35% increase in qualified leads Led content meetings, fostering open communication and enabling the creation of impactful content strategies by training writers, leading to better performance overall. Edited and proofread writer's content by using tools such as Grammarly and the AP Editor's Handbook, resulting in professional, polished copy Created and managed a long-term editorial calendar and content production pipeline by using Asana and Google Sheets, which resulted in an organized and well-defined task system Colla Content Manager | Pleasant Grove, UT ATS ShieldSafe & Innova| 2018 - 2019 Managed office tasks and copywriting for a B2B company that sold water treatment services and safety showers by creating relevant and engaging content, increasing organic traffic by 60% Utilized WordPress to boost search engine optimization (SEO) strategies, developed and published email campaigns in Net-Results, and drove social media marketing, resulting in a 200% increase in traffic and conversions within 6 months Translated two websites into Portuguese and Spanish by using a 3rd party agency, which led to the acquisition of the #1 dairy producer in Brazil Created and produced marketing videos by writing scripts and recording regional sales managers (RSM) and search matter experts (SME), leading to a 30% sales conversion rate. Content Writer | American Fork, UT ATS ShieldSafe & Innova| 2017 - 2018 Interviewed over 150 dental practices for website content preferences and needs by calling and understanding their content needs; this led to a retention rate of 98% Worked closely with top leaders and a results-oriented writing team in finalizing projects ranging in value and complexity, often writing 4-5 websites a day by using an HTML template, leading to our team meeting weekly quotas Helped writers complete their assignments for dental practices and mentored them on their grammar, voice, and formatting as a senior writer Education & Certifications Diploma , The Institute of Children’s Literature HubSpot Software Certification , 2022 Salesforce Essential Training Certification 2021 Google Analytics Certification through SkillShare , 2021 IoT Foundations: Fundamentals Certification , 2021 Certified Digital Marketing Masterclass through Udemy , 2021 Certified Content Marketer through HubSpot Academy , 2021 Websites, Portfolios, and Profiles www.jewelswrites.blogspot.com www.linkedin.com/in/julianielsen

If you have a company, you know the importance, or should know the importance, of getting your content in front of an audience — and that means blogging to help improve your brand’s online visibility. However, writing just any old blog isn’t going to cut it; it needs to contain relevant and engaging information. Continue reading to learn about the 3 ways blogging can help your brand's online visibility. Why Blogs Work for Brand's Online Visibility When someone is searching for an answer to their question or would like a step-by-step instruction manual on how to replace siding, your blog should be the first one that pops up, or at least be in the first page of search results. It should have relevant keywords that Google or DuckDuckGo can crawl and pick up and rank. Including a catchy meta description captures people’s attention and they will likely click on the link to see what you have to offer. Always include the keyword to ensure maximum visibility. This is when a blog can establish credibility and answer someone’s question or solve their dilemma. Don’t underestimate what a good blog post can do for your brand. because it affords an opportunity for you to branch out and reach a wider audience. Setting yourself apart from the competition means getting your company’s brand out there. When you guest-blog, it establishes your company as a thought leader, thus increasing traffic when readers can link back to your site. If done every once in a while, it can boost your traffic and conversions. which then increases your online presence. When you post a link to your blog to Facebook, X, LinkedIn, et al, followers can click on the link that takes them directly to the blog post. This can improve online brand visibility as well. The more followers, the more likely your content gets exposure. Using an infographic highlights the blog and is an excellent visual, as well as memes, videos, or reviews. The key is more visibility in key places that subscribe to your brand.  This is just the tip of the iceberg with blogging. If you don’t yet use blogging for your brand, this is an excellent time to get started. Content specialists know what it takes to increase a brand’s online visibility, and they do it with YOUR vision, goals, and mission in mind. Contact me, a marketing content specialist, to learn more.