Page 176 of A Vicious Love

“Especially indoor.”

He looked impressed despite himself. “That’s not terrible.”

“It’s excellent.”

“It makes the employee the bad guy.”

“No,” I said, pulling the dead parsley out by its roots. “It makes science the bad guy.”

Harrison took the corpse from me and dropped it into the black disposal bag. “I love when science carries family burdens.”

Marcel had tried to install a watering system, which meant he had approached it in the most alarming way possible by having three discreet landscape engineers assess her herb beds while she was at lunch. Emmie found the proposal on his desk and became offended before dinner.

Apparently, automatic watering made her look like a bad gardener.

She said she wanted to care for them herself. Marcel told her, very gently, that care could include support systems.

Emmie told him he could install a support system for his own plants when he grew some.

Marcel did not grow plants.

Marcel grew fear of upsetting his wife. Which is how the watering system died.

Now Harrison and I took turns replanting the evidence. I dug out the thyme while Harrison held his phone flashlight over the planter.

“Angle it lower,” I said.

“I am.”

“You’re lighting the wall.”

“I told you we need headlights.”

I paused. “I told you. I will not wear a torch on my head while replacing fucking herbs.”

He grinned.

The man was terrible for my fucking blood pressure.

We worked in silence for several minutes, removing the dead herbs and replacing them with healthy ones from the crate. Harrison tamped down dirt around the rosemary.

That was another problem. If the plants looked too healthy, Emmie got suspicious.

We had rules now. Moderate health. No visible flowering unless the previous plant had buds. Never replace all herbs in one night unless catastrophic.

Tonight was catastrophic.

“Parsley in,” Harrison said.

I placed it.

He tilted his head. “Too upright.”

“Parsley grows upright.”

“Emmie’s parsley never has.”

He had a point. I nudged the plant slightly left.