Quinn didn’t answer. But the stories couldn’t be any worse than the truth. He just nodded back at Donna Grace while the woman went back to making the bouquet for the big wedding on the Square. She pruned the stems of long white roses and then set about working on a handful of spray roses, Quinn knowing the difference from all the varieties Maggie had planted last year. Maggie had singlehandedly turned their old farm into a botanical showcase.

“Why?” she said.

“That’s what I hope to find out.”

“Some folks are saying it was little TJ,” she said. “Lord God.”

“I wouldn’t put too much stock in rumors,” said Quinn. “I was hoping you might help.”

“With who killed Gina?” Donna Grace shook her head and wiped the mascara off her cheeks with a paper towel. She snuffed out a laugh as if the question was just plain nuts. “I have no earthly idea.”

Quinn walked over by the front counter, right alongside the glass refrigerator filled with orders ready for pickup. There was an old FTD sign behind the counter, the same one from when Donna Grace’s father owned the shop, golden Hermes hauling ass while holding a big fistful of flowers. The whole idea of someone wiring a shop for a flower order seemed like something for the history books.

“I’ve known Gina for more than twenty years,” Donna Grace said, snuffling but still snipping, gathering, wrapping. “I’ve been with her through her ups and downs, trials and tribulations. Before her momma passed, I promised I’d look out for Gina.”

“And how’s Gina been doing?”

“Same as always,” Donna Grace said. “Sometimes she’s my employee of the month. And sometimes I’d have to fire her ass because she came to work stoned or drunk. Have you called on Chester Pratt? They been seeing each other for a while. Seems like Chester only feeds her trouble, giving her money for pills and as much booze as she can drink.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Quinn said. “And I’ll be calling on him again.”

“I knew something was wrong when she didn’t show on Monday,” Donna Grace said. “We had some words last week on account of her not showing last Tuesday. I would’ve fired her a hundred times if she didn’t have a real knack for colors and organization. She made some right smart door hangings. Just made a whole batch for Valentine’s Day. Prettiest things you ever saw in your life. Little hearts and pink carnations. God, Quinn. This can’t be right. Nothing about this makes sense.”

“Was she having trouble with TJ?”

“Some,” she said. “Not any more than any other momma with a teenage girl.”

“I heard sometimes things got physical,” Quinn said.

“Between Gina and TJ?” she said. “I never heard nothing like that.”

“Did she ever mention Ladarius McCade?”