Poison, Perennials, and a Poltergeist (The Petal Pushers Mystery Series)

by Hayes, Tina D. C.

  “No sweetie, you smell fine.” She grinned back, her eyes sparkling through the shadow of her hat. “Mabel moved in here, oh, about a year ago, I think. Our kids were in the same class in elementary school, quite a while back. She used to be outgoing and sociable, but all that changed after the stroke.”

  “It looked like she was moving pretty fast, to me.”

  “She manages pretty well with the cane. She could be a whole lot better, but she flat out refuses to do the rehab exercises the doctor gave her. Her left side is partially paralyzed, so that arm and leg don’t work so good, and you can see it on that side of her face. The heifer is so vain, she won’t talk because her speech is a little fuddled. Her daughter told me she can understand her just fine, but her sentences are kind of broken and some of the words come out slurred.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” Darci’s big heart felt heavy, saddened to hear that Mrs. Guthrie had such a hard time of it. The woman in the straw hat noticed her biting her lip and fidgeting with her belt loops, so Darci shoved her hands in her pockets to keep them still.

  “You’re doing a fine job on that flower bed. And I’m Bernice, by the way.” She adjusted her hat as Darci introduced herself, then the two walked toward the newly planted border. “Always did love those everyday bloomers.”

  “That’s what my mom calls impatiens too.”

  “Well, I guess I’d better let you get back at it, and I’ll see that Mabel gets her copy of Better Homes and Gardens.” Bernice bounded up the stairs like a teenager. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice meeting you, too. You’ll have to let me know what you think of the rest of the landscaping, after we get finished with it.” Darci liked Bernice, who reminded her a little of her great-Aunt Becky.

  Puddles of rain poured from the sky before they finished laying weed cloth on either side of the walk. No use trying to fight a thunderstorm. Darci and Hoyt hurried to load their stuff back into the van, hoping the lightning wouldn’t strike the gardening tools they carried.

  The warm weather dried the ground out enough for them to get back to work the next morning. Darci arranged the Knock Out rosebushes around the benches on opposite sides of the lawn. Hoyt planted them, then piled mulch around each when he finished.

  Next, Darci positioned herbs on top of the black weed cloth, making sure to space them correctly. The spiky lavender leaves already smelled heavenly, and she couldn’t wait until they bloomed. Alternating them with the thyme, sage, and oregano for an informal feel, she grabbed her trowel and got busy tucking them into the ground. This was her favorite part of a job like this, getting her hands in the dirt, knowing these plants would look and smell great for a long time to come. Unlike the impatiens, these herbs were perennials that should come back hardier year after year.

  Mabel Guthrie sat under the tulip poplar again. Not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable, Darci tried not to pay any attention.

  On her knees mulching the herbs, she heard feet shuffle over the sidewalk in her direction. Her hand shaded her eyes from the glare of the sun as she peeped up and was pleasantly surprised to see Mabel in front of her, leaning heavily on her cane.

  “Hi there.” She started to comment on the weather, but didn’t want to say anything that would put the elderly woman in a position of having to speak.

  The right side of Mabel’s mouth tried to curl upward while the left side of her face hung flaccid. She took a deep breath, nodded her head toward the plants, and with a laborious effort to shape her lips correctly, said, “Pretty.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Guthrie. I’m glad you like it. They should fill in in a week or so, then they’ll really smell nice when you walk by, especially if there’s a breeze.” Darci kept on placing mulch, making it unnecessary for Mabel to reply. She looked up when Mabel cleared her throat.

  Mrs. Guthrie pointed her gaze toward the magazine sticking out of her tote bag. Darci figured she used it to carry things, since her left arm hung limp at her side and the cane barred her from holding anything in her right hand. After another deep breath, she said, “Thanks,” in reference to Darci’s attempt to return it to her the day before.

  “No problem. I get that magazine myself and wouldn’t want you to lose it. Great articles this month, and a tasty recipe for hummingbird cake, though it’s not quite as good as my Grandma Odette’s version.”

  Darci stood up after she pinched off a generous sprig of the lavender she’d been fidgeting with. “I just love how this stuff smells.” She held it up to Mabel, who closed her eyes and sniffed the intoxicating fragrance.

  “Here you go, Mrs. Guthrie.” Darci tucked the lavender sprig into the tote bag. “So you can enjoy it later.”

  Gratitude glistened in her eyes. She attempted to say her name, which Darci took to mean she wished to be addressed more informally. It came out sounding more like ‘Mail’ than ‘Mabel’, which caused her to glare at her shoes in humiliation.

  Darci was glad Bernice had filled her in. “Nice to meet you, Mabel.” The older lady lifted her eyes to meet Darci’s, obviously relieved to be understood. “I’m Darci.”

  Mabel lifted two fingers from her cane in a wave, then turned and headed back inside.

  Custodians at Golden Days Retirement home watered the landscape regularly, but Petal Pushers came by every other week to maintain the plants. It didn’t take long since the weed cloth prevented most problems, though some pesky grasses put down roots in the mulch on top of it. When Darci swung by, she’d pull up any stray weeds, deadhead the climbing roses that grew on the backyard trellis, and pinch back some of the herbs to make them grow in bushier. She looked forward to spending time there, stretching a thirty-minute job out for an hour in the tranquil garden, happy to shoot the breeze with the friendly residents.

  Paxton enjoyed spending summer days at the shop with his mother. He had water gun fights with Hoyt out back, tried unsuccessfully to teach Daisy how to say “Paxton Rules”, and carried things for Charlotte, who now waddled around like a constipated duck. Pride showed in the way he carried himself when he helped his mom; standing tall, his shoulders squared, he would glance around to see if anyone noticed how grown up he thought he was. Darci was so proud of him, she didn’t even mind when he made the occasional mistake.

  One such blunder was Paxton’s overzealous tendency with the watering can, which he wielded until muddy streams flowed over the sides of the containers. Fortunately, most of the greenhouse slips recovered on their own. They’d just skip watering them for a few days until the humidity steered the moisture level in their potting soil back to where it should be. Some plants, however, just couldn’t handle a flood.

  After Wade picked Paxton up for a trip to town for fishing bait one afternoon, Hoyt brought a flat of chamomile to Darci’s attention. “Um, I think he overdid it a little,” he said, tilting the plastic container to drain off the excess water. Being the second day in a row they’d received this treatment, the tiny leaves showed more brown than green.

  “Oh boy.” Darci winced her sympathy at the soaking plants. “If you could transfer these to a dry tray, we can put ‘em inside the shop for a couple days. Maybe that’ll help.”

  Later, Darci moved a small table over by the porthole window, then put the chamomile in the light that filtered in through the trees outside.

  For some reason she couldn’t explain or understand, she and Charlotte noticed strange occurrences on a regular basis. The temperature climbed up in the eighties, but they still felt cold drafts behind the counter and in front of the porthole. Wade couldn’t find any source, and it even happened when the air conditioning wasn’t on.

  Every few days, Charlotte thought she saw a woman in a long dark dress. On entering the room or looking up from paperwork, she’d catch a glimpse of someone at the porthole or a figure peering into Daisy’s cage. During and right after those incidents, Daisy tweeted nonstop, bobbing her head happily as she jumped from perch to perch; she usually only acted that way when someone talked to her, in the hop
es of coming out of the cage to play.

  The oddest phenomenon, though, had to be the reason Darci set the overwatered chamomile in front of the porthole-shaped window. The spider plant she and Charlotte found in March, which miraculously thrived after being a prickly dried out mess the night before, had been the first of such unprecedented floral healings. When Charlotte found a potted rosebush with black and yellow leaves-something that usually meant stripping leaves off and applying medicated powder-she placed it on the stool in front of the porthole. Rubbing her hands together manically after setting it down, Charlotte had said, “Now we’ll wait and see what happens. If those leaves are green tomorrow, we’ll know it’s either the work of E.T., a stray leprechaun, or some funky little greenhouse fairy.”

  “And to make sure nobody’s punking us,” Darci said, leaning over the rosebush, “I’ll draw a little blue ‘x’ on the underside of this leaf, so we’ll know for sure if it’s the same plant.” Charlotte took another bathroom break and Darci hid the Sharpie in a box of Daisy’s bird food.

  The next morning, all traces of black and yellow on the leaves had inexplicably vanished. When Charlotte got to work, Darci made her sit down before showing her the bush, afraid the excitement might freak her out and send her into premature labor. Darci just about wet her own pants when she saw the healthy plant. She had to sit down and breathe into a paper bag after her shaky hand tipped up a healthy green leaf marked with the blue Sharpie ‘x’. Charlotte took it much better, wide eyed, fascinated, and grinning like an idiot.

  From then on, puny flora went straight to the stool beside the porthole. If the container was too big, like the cement planter holding a fungus-covered topiary, it went on the floor in front of the window.

  Darci checked on the chamomile plants right before closing time. Still brown and droopy.

  She retrieved her purse and car keys from the counter, but when she turned back around to leave, she froze in her tracks and gasped. An icy shiver raced down her spine. Whatever she thought she saw disappeared in the time it took to blink her eyes. The temperature, however, remained at least twenty degrees cooler than it had been a moment before. Darci grabbed her stuff and walked backward out of the shop. No way was she turning her back, just in case what she saw was an intruder instead of a hallucination. She locked the door behind her, then ran to her car parked in the side driveway. Her cell phone was out of her purse and ringing Charlotte’s house before she pulled the door of her green Volkswagen Beetle closed. She locked the car doors, let up her windows, and turned the key simultaneously.

  Comforted slightly by her cousin’s “Hello”, Darci tried to calm herself down. She didn’t want to sound hysterical when she got to the crux of the matter.

  “Hey, Charlotte. How’s it going?”

  “Fine. Boring. You know how it is. I’m just sitting here, fat and swollen, downing Tums to kill this damn heartburn. Having a ball. Whoopee.” When the line remained silent for a moment, Charlotte asked, concerned, “What’s the matter, Darce? Something wrong?”

  “No, not really . . . . Uh, I think I just saw your disappearing lady. Scared the shit out of me, to tell the truth.”

  “Aha! So it’s not just the loony prego seeing things! I told you so.”

  “Gee, you don’t have to sound so thrilled about it.” Some of the tension drained from Darci’s shoulders. Charlotte’s voice made her feel better, even with the ‘I told you so’.

  “Sorry, you know me. Just can’t help myself.” Chips crunched in the background, and Charlotte’s mouth sounded full when she continued. “So. What the hell did you see?”

  “I turned around and thought I saw a woman in old-timey clothes behind the counter next to Daisy’s cage. The bird sounded happy, tweeting a mile a minute. The woman, if that’s what it was, reached toward the cage, then I blinked and she was gone. Poof. And I was standing in a cold spot.” Darci shivered behind the steering wheel. “Gives me the willies thinking about it.”

  “Sounds like the same thing I saw,” Charlotte muttered through another mouthful. Darci heard her swallow. “So, do you think we’re haunted or what?”

  “Either that or somebody’s playing a joke on us. Though with you about to drop the baby, I don’t really think anybody would be that stupid right now.” She gripped the wheel with one hand while the other fiddled with the thin wire connecting her earpiece to the cell phone; a Bluetooth was on her want list, but she hadn’t sprung for one yet. Darci needed to make sure they’d both seen the same thing, that her imagination wasn’t just working overtime. She nibbled her lip before asking the question, unsure which answer she hoped to hear. “Did your woman have on anything else you remember, besides the long dark dress? Hat, jewelry?”

  “No hat, for sure. I remember her hair was all piled up on top of her head. Definitely could have used a haircut and some curlers. Hmmm . . .” Charlotte munched something else, deep in thought. “Come to think of it, there was a shiny thing on her blouse, like a pin or something.”

  Fresh goose pimples rose on Darci’s arms despite the warm June temperature. “I saw it, too. A broach worn on her left side. No way we could both be having the exact same hallucination.”

  “Nope, I wouldn’t think so.” A belch blasted through the cell.

  “Yuck.”

  “Sorry. These damn chips make me burp. Taste good on the way down, though.”

  “The Ghost Lady must be causing the drafts, too. Oh crap, now I sound like Hoyt, but Ghost Lady is the only thing I can think of to call her right now. Anyway, Paxton waterlogged the chamomile again, so I had just checked the plants in front of the porthole when all this stuff happened. I turned toward the counter, saw the Ghost Lady or whatever the hell it was, then it was so cold I actually saw my breath.”

  “Well, I bet the chamomile will be healthy by the time we go in tomorrow morning. At least she’s saving you some money.” Charlotte grunted through the phone as if exerting a massive effort. “Gotta go pee again, Darce. See you in the morning.”

  “Bye.” Darci unhooked the earpiece and clicked the phone off, talking to herself as she pulled in her driveway. “At least it’s a helpful ghost, not some screaming banshee or headless, bloody, icky thing. It could be a lot worse.”

  It didn’t come as a surprise the next morning when each and every chamomile plant stood healthy and thriving.

  Petal Pushers’ Plants of the Month for June are

  Common Herbs

  Perennial and Annual

  Brief description: I love growing my own herbs, for the way they look, smell, and, oh yes, the way they taste. They’re easy to grow, then you can snip them as your kitchen demands. Here’s the scoop on some of my favorite herbs.

  Basil (Ocimum basilicum), an annual, is what I'd choose if I could only grow one. Its fragrant broad green leaves are delicious in my homemade red sauce, in omelets, and a million other recipes. So much better than the dried stuff.

  Oregano (Origanum vulagare), a perennial, is the best variety for cooking. It has small dark green leaves and its flowers vary between white and light purple. Use fresh chopped oregano in your sauces, soups, and salads, and dry a little of the extra.

  Thyme (Thymus vulgaris), a perennial, is a short plant with small green leaves. There's nothing better to jazz up your eggs and omelets, and it gives a wonderful earthy flavor to meats and vegetable dishes.

  Sage (Salvia officinalis), a shrubby perennial with elongated green leaves, it can grow up to two feet tall and have a three foot spread. I grow a few varieties in my herb patch, for the different scents, foliage, and flavors. I love Pineapple sage ( Salvia elegans), with its delicious tropical taste and showy red blossoms.

  Chives (Allium schoenoprasm), a perennial, grows in clumps that produce starry white blooms. Snip the leaves for soups, sandwiches, or whenever you want to add a mild onion/garlic flavor.

  Mint (Mentha x piperita), a perennial, has a peppermint flavor, dark purple stems, green leaves, and smells like a candy cane.

  Sp
earmint (Mentha spicata) has dark green pointed leaves and reminds me of chewing gum when I catch a whiff of it. Mint is a hardy herb that spreads easily, and the scent carries in the wind or when you walk over it. Use mint for brewing your own tea, in jelly, with green peas, and in salads.

  Symbolism: Like flowers, herbs have their own language, symbolizing certain qualities:

  Basil - Clarity and prosperity

  Oregano - Joy and happiness

  Thyme - Courage and health

  Sage - Wisdom, immortality, and respect

  Chives - Eternity

  Mint - Virtue

  Growing instructions: Most herbs do well in a sunny location with regular waterings. Pinch back the tops just before or right as they bloom to encourage a bushier plant and more growth. Don’t pitch the flowers you just pinched, but use them as edible garnish or add them to salads for an elegant touch and a bit of extra flavor.

  Uses: Herbs are so versatile, they can be used in an herb garden, mixed in flower beds and borders, and in containers. Or put a few potted plants in your kitchen window, for easy access while you cook. One warning: be careful of where you plant mint, which can take over the garden before you know it.

  Tools & Tips: Spent up all your flower budget and forgot to buy mulch? No problem. Grass clippings spread pretty thick will stop weed growth. At first, I was leery of this tip because I was afraid it would make grass grow in my flowerbeds, but it doesn’t, and it really does a great job of keeping the weeds out. After you mow the yard, just rake up a pile and use it to mulch around your vegetable garden or other plants. I also use it around flowers in containers outside, since it helps hold in moisture.

  Chapter 7. July