Thursday, Nov. 29 - late Afternoon
At 6:50 pm, after Don had seen his last patient of the day, he locked up his private office door and entered the common reception area he and Susan shared. Dana Brodie had already left, and he realised Susan still had one last patient to see at 7:00 pm before they went home. Knowing that she was probably in need of a little break, Don set a pot of coffee brewing and arranged some tea biscuits on a paper plate. He rapped gently on her door in case she was still busy with her 6 o'clock appointment.
"Come in," he heard her call.
"Thought you could use a little snack," he said, bringing in two cups of coffee and the biscuits on a tray.
"Thank you, Don," she said in appreciation, and took a sip from the steaming mug. Instantly, she scrunched up her nose in distaste.
"What is it?" Don asked. "Too hot?"
"I'm beginning to think you've forgotten how to make a decent cup of coffee, honey."
"What do you mean?"
"This morning you got up first, so you made breakfast," Susan said.
"Right…so…" Don prodded.
"Well, the coffee was pretty awful then, too," Susan stated, an apologetic look on her face.
"It's the same coffee we've been having since we got married, sweetheart, and it's the same brand you're holding in your hands now. Is it really that bad?"
She gave a wry nod. Don reached for her mug and took a large sip himself, then shrugged when he didn't detect anything amiss.
"Tastes fine to me," he said, passing it back to her. "Seriously, Susan, maybe the stress with everything that's been going on is just affecting you in some unexpected ways."
"Either that, or it could be that you're just trying to poison me," she teased.
"Rats, you've figured me out!" Don joked, shaking his head. "Here, I'll dump that out for you if you're not going to finish it."
"Thanks," she said, handing him the offending drink. "If you see my last patient coming in, send her this way for me, will you?"
"Sure. See you in an hour."
Det. Sean Monahan was in a late-afternoon meeting with a forensic botanist, Dr. April Orlowski, on loan from New York University. After the second set of flowers had arrived at the radio station, Monahan had called her in asking for help due to her expertise in that field.
She was fortyish, and had a surprisingly fresh-looking, unlined face. An attractive streak of grey that ran through her dark, collar-length hair was the only telltale sign of her age.
"The results conclusively show that both sets of flowers are genetically identical. They definitely sprouted from the same bulb." Dr. Orlowski said, flipping through the report in her hand.
"And there can be no room for error on this?" Det. Monahan asked anxiously.
"Forensic botany is a relatively new area, Detective, but it's just as precise as any other kind of DNA evidence that's routinely heard in courts today. In forensic botany, we use Random Amplified Polymorphic DNA, or RAPD, which uses numerous short primers, or base pairs, to amplify the genome in various random locations. What we get in the end is a unique 'genetic fingerprint' of the sampled organism. Now, the two sets of flowers you took in as evidence that I typed are lilium candidium, more commonly known as the 'Casa Blanca' Oriental Hybrid Lily. Quite beautiful and quite fragrant. Usually those lovely pure white blooms last a good while and are almost 11 inches across. The largest one I measured in either bunch was at 10.8 inches. Find me the parent plant these were harvested from and I'll be able to make a match. It'd be my guess that the green thumb that planted these is the mystery 'admirer'. Any luck finding him?"
"Not yet," Monahan said slowly. "We have some leads we're following up on. Nevertheless, I'd like to know: How likely is it that both these sets of flowers were picked up at a garden center? "
"Well, because of the genetic match, I'd say nil. Million-to-one chance..."
"So the average person is capable of doing this?"
"You mean growing and harvesting the Casa Blanca? Sure. Some people have a knack for growing things and others don't, Detective. My husband for instance, is a plant killer, and he knows not to even attempt to touch my houseplants. He's just not gifted that way. It's not impossible for the layperson, but you do have to have some idea of what you're doing with these hybrids. What I'd say you're looking for is someone with a really nice garden or greenhouse. In the case of a garden, these flowers would have definitely been taken indoors and potted for that cold spell and snowstorm we recently had in the city."
"If I wanted to grow these lilies, how would I obtain them?"
"In this case, the fellow most likely got them as bulbs. Those can be purchased through garden centers or catalogues; even from the Internet."
"That's an awful lot of ground to cover," sighed Monahan. "Thanks, Dr. Orlowski, I owe you one."
"You're welcome, detective," she replied with a smile, and departed after shaking his hand.
Monahan sunk down in his aging chair and leaned back, ignoring the creaking sounds of protest it made. The case was going absolutely nowhere as far as narrowing down suspects went. Regarding the flowers, initial findings showed that the stems had most likely been cut with the same pair of gardening scissors; the angle of the cut similar on all eight flowers taken in as evidence. So not only could they be looking to match a cutting utensil, but plant DNA as well.
The next logical step, of course, would be to canvass garden centers for any information about someone especially interested in Casa Blanca Oriental hybrids. How many damn garden centers were there in the city? In the state? Monahan didn't even want to begin to think about how many possible options there were for purchasing the bulbs over the Internet or through gardening catalogues.
He sat forward and flipped through Dr. Orlowski's report. Clearly, the woman had done her work. She'd even taken the pains to note how the lilies were grown, and possible places they could be obtained. Bulbs were available for purchase in a number of ways, including cryogenically frozen ones for forcing in greenhouses. From planting the bulbs to harvesting the buds, Monahan began to form the opinion that Dr. Susan Chandler's stalker was working on a strict timetable and had probably been planning his actions for some time in advance. Which would rule out a spontaneous, angered reaction on the part of someone like Anton Riley, the detective mused unhappily. Monahan expelled his breath in frustration and leaned back in the chair once again, frowning this time at the usual irritating noise that accompanied the action.
Thus far, no one had come in claiming to have been asked by a stranger to deliver flowers to the Central Park West office or the WOR studios. Maybe they were paid double to keep their mouths shut, Monahan thought angrily. Perhaps making a public appeal with the promise of a reward might help refresh some memories. It was an idea he'd have to run by Susan and Don Richards. Without a description of the guy, they were going in blind. At least if they had a composite sketch or picture, they had something to go to the garden centers with.
There's something we're not seeing here, but what? Monahan asked himself in frustration as he leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk and glancing at the report one more time before closing it. Somewhere out there was some guy with soil, fertilizer and lilies as his pets who was making life miserable for Dr. Susan Chandler.
The word around the district from those that knew her during the time she was an Assistant D.A. was that she'd been an excellent trial lawyer. They'd had high hopes for her career when she dropped off the law-enforcement radar and went back to school to study psychology. A questionable move, for sure, but one that Monahan respected. Sure takes guts to change stride mid-stream, especially amidst a successful career, he thought. Susan Chandler had once been part of the team that brought justice to the citizens of New York's Westchester County, and even though they'd never worked together, Monahan felt the pressing need to apprehend the 'green thumb' for her quickly, because his gut was telling him they were running out of time.