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"She enjoyed growing things. She had a little plantation behind the cottage."
May wondered what that meant. It might have meant that Chloe was a passionate gardener who was growing specific plants or herbs, for enjoyment or wellness or maybe even to sell. But there was another possibility, which was that Chloe might have grown weed. If she'd done that, it could have gotten her into trouble. Perhaps she’d got on the wrong side of a local dealer.
There was only one way to find out which theory was correct, and that was to spell the question out.
"Do you mean weed?" she asked baldly. "Are you talking about growing weed?"
She thought that she'd asked a fair question, given the circumstances. But she had not expected the irate comeback that she got.
"What?" he exploded. "I meant no such thing!"
"When you said growing things," May began, but there was now no stopping Mr. Terry.
"How can you insinuate such a thing? That my daughter was into something illegal? And you think I would have turned a blind eye?" he raged.
"Of course not," May assured him. "I only meant that it would be useful to know this. That's all."
"What kind of father do you think I am, to let my daughter grow weed?"
"She might have done it without you knowing, or else not thinking you knew," Owen tried.
"I knew everything going on in her life! Everything, young man," Mr. Terry raged, now directing his fury at Owen.
But May noticed that Mrs. Terry was now sidling away. She was heading for the back offices. Something about this conversation had clearly made her uneasy, May realized. She didn't know if it was the mention of weed or something else. Her money was on something else.
Now, finally getting some control of his anger, Mr. Terry was elaborating still further, wagging his finger in Owen's face. "I'm a good father! We raised our daughter well! You're insinuating that she was moving in drug dealing circles? That's not so! She was very gifted in herbal knowledge, and she was trying to create a new type of herbal supplement that would help with health and wellness and weight loss."
While he and Owen were embroiled in this emotional discussion, May sidled past and tiptoed in the direction that Mrs. Terry had gone.
This seemed like a good time to find out what she didn't want the police to know.
Especially if it also happened to be something she didn't want her husband to know.
CHAPTER SIX
May quietly eased herself away from the two arguing men and followed Mrs. Terry, feeling intent on finding out what had suddenly made her so uneasy, and why she was retreating to the back offices.
She paced after her, down the immaculately polished white tiles, and when Mrs. Terry veered right through an open door, May veered too. She caught the woman just as she was about to close the door.
With a sharp intake of breath, Mrs. Terry stared apprehensively at her.
Deciding that discretion would help her here, May closed the door, putting them both on the inside of it.
"I noticed you walking away," she said gently. "I was wondering if perhaps you'd thought of something else to say and would rather share it in private?"
She waited, hoping that Mrs. Terry would feel more confident with the door closed and say what was on her mind. But the woman seemed reluctant. She shook her head defensively.
"Really, I just wanted to get away," she said at last. "For a moment."
May could see that she was feeling agitated. She was rubbing her hands together in a distracted way.
"But what if there is something weighing on your mind?" May pressed her. "You might think that it's not important, or that it isn't worth mentioning, but perhaps it is?"
Mrs. Terry looked away, and May could see she was struggling. Still, she didn't speak up.
"Tell me," May urged her. "If you think of anything that might help, don't think twice about it. Just say it. It might besomething that doesn't seem important to you, but it could help solve this case. We're trying to find out what happened to Chloe, and we need all the help we can get, especially seeing she may be in danger now."
But it seemed that at last, her logic had gotten through to her. Mrs. Terry sighed. She stepped back until she was right on the far side of the small office, which contained a brilliant white desk, a bright crimson office chair, and a few fashion sketches on the walls. The view from the window looked onto treed suburbia.
