Chapter 2: The Man in the Green Van
The van remained on the block after noon.
Mark saw it through his office window while he searched for Bellweather Scarlet Collection on his laptop.
He found ordinary gardening articles and several unrelated flower companies, but nothing that explained Diane’s reaction.
His phone rang as he was studying a faded advertisement for a county flower festival.
“This is Nolan Pike from Crownleaf Horticulture,” the caller said.
“How did you get my number?”
“Public contact information associated with the property.”
Mark knew enough about salespeople to recognize an answer that had been polished until it revealed nothing.
“What can I do for you?”
“I understand you’re improving the front garden.”
“Who told you that?”
“We’re in the neighborhood conducting a special plant evaluation.
”
Mark glanced at the van.
“You mean you’re sitting across from my house.”
A pause followed.
“I was hoping we could meet.”
“Send me your company’s website.”
“We can talk much more effectively in person.”
“Then I’m afraid we’ll remain ineffective.”
Mark ended the call.
He went outside and photographed the van’s company name and business number from his own driveway.
The driver pulled away immediately.
That reaction unsettled him more than Diane’s temper had.
He walked to the next house, where a woman named Priya Shah was carrying groceries out of her trunk.
Priya taught botany at a community college and had introduced herself when Mark first moved in.
She liked to tell neighbors that she studied plants because plants never pretended to understand instructions they had not read.
“Have you ever heard of Bellweather Scarlet?” Mark asked.
Priya set a carton of milk on the porch rail.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“From a deed.”
She put the milk back into the bag.
“Come inside.”
Her kitchen smelled of basil and toasted bread.
She cleared space on the table beside a microscope and a stack of student assignments.
Mark described the morning’s dispute and placed the oldest deed in front of her.
Priya read slowly.
“June Bellweather wasn’t just a gardener,” she said.
“She was a plant breeder who worked out of her home.”
“Was she famous?”
“Not outside a small circle.”
Priya pulled a notebook from a shelf.
She showed Mark a photograph of a deep-red flowering plant with slender stems and unusually long flowering spikes.
“June spent years crossing varieties of salvia to develop plants that tolerated dry summer soil without losing their color.”
“That’s useful.”
“It was useful enough for a commercial grower to offer her money.”
“Did she sell?”
“She refused an exclusive arrangement, according to an article my students found.”
Priya turned the page to a photocopy of an old community newsletter.
The caption identified six households who had offered garden space to preserve June’s experimental lines.
Each family raised part of the collection.
They exchanged cuttings during an annual neighborhood planting day.
“The project depended on neighbors keeping different lines alive,” Priya explained.
“A flood, disease, or careless gardener couldn’t wipe out everything at once.”
Mark considered the six deeds again.
“So the strip by my sidewalk was part of a living collection.”
“At least when these documents were written.”
“What happened to it?”
Priya turned the page and found a photograph of June Bellweather holding a ceramic pot with a red ribbon tied around it.
“The newsletter ends here.”
Mark pointed at the date.
It was twenty-eight years old.
“Diane must know something.”
“Diane knows more about this block than the entire county website,” Priya said.
“She also treats information like a family silver service that nobody else is allowed to touch.”
A knock interrupted them.
Diane stood on Priya’s porch holding a folded newspaper.
She looked at Mark first.
“I told you to stop digging.”
“I did stop.”
“Then why is that man still asking questions?”
Mark glanced toward the empty space where the Crownleaf van had been.
“Who is Nolan Pike?”
Diane’s face tightened.
“Someone you should not invite onto this street.”
Priya stepped between them without touching either person.
“Diane, June’s plants may still be growing here.”
“You don’t know what’s growing here.”
“Then tell us.”
Diane studied the red flowers in Mark’s front yard through the screen door.
“Those store-bought things aren’t the problem,” she said.
“The problem is what Mark’s shovel almost reached.”
She unfolded the newspaper and revealed an advertisement for Crownleaf’s upcoming Scarlet Star launch.
The photograph showed a red flowering plant remarkably similar to June’s old experiment.
The bottom line announced a private preview on Friday evening.
Diane folded the paper again.
“Pike is not here to look at your garden,” she said.
“He is here to make sure nobody remembers where that flower came from.”
