Lethal Lily (A Peggy Lee Garden Mystery)

by Joyce Lavene

  “Do you want me to call Arnie and ask him to verify that they were living there at the time?”

  “No. Let’s see what they have. Her driver’s license and birth certificate are from there. I think we’ll find her hospital records there too. Better not to involve a possible suspect.”

  “You think Arnie is a suspect?”

  Dorothy put her hand on Peggy’s arm. “Don’t feel bad. We can’t know for sure until it all comes out in the wash.”

  Peggy didn’t feel bad. Arnie was a likely suspect since he had ties to both people. “How are you going to determine who this woman is, if she isn’t Ann Fletcher?”

  “I was able to get some prints from her. I’m hoping she’s in the system—for whatever reason. If not, we’ll have to rely on the usual channels of searching for women of her description who disappeared at about the same time Mrs. Fletcher was thought to have died.”

  “What about the convallatoxin?”

  “Well, there’s no blood, so we’ll have to do tissue samples. I’ll let you know what we find.”

  “All right. This wasn’t the news I was expecting, Dorothy, but thanks for telling me.” Peggy glanced at her watch. “I was going to have my assistant at the garden shop take care of our garden club meeting, but since I’m at a loose end here, I might as well take care of it myself.”

  “I’ll get back with you as soon as we have any further updates. Take care.”

  “I will. Thanks.” Peggy took off her white coat and hung it up near her desk before she left.

  It wasn’t easy getting her bike into the car. She finally had to skip the trunk and push it into the backseat. The hybrid got great gas mileage—some days she didn’t even have to switch over from electric. But it wasn’t meant to hold more than a few bags of groceries.

  There was plenty of time to take the car home and ride her bike to the shop. Even though traffic could be tricky, she liked riding when the weather was nice. She didn’t expect to go anywhere else but the shop and home again. Riding to the ME’s office, and the shop, and then home could be exhausting.

  The roofers were working on the house when she got back. It was driving Shakespeare crazy to have them up there. She could hear him from outside as he ran back and forth through the house, barking loudly.

  “Peggy.” Dalton Lee was standing in the drive when she got out of the car. “I hope that animal of yours doesn’t cause any damage inside the house.”

  “Dalton. I haven’t seen you for a while. How is the vinegar working on getting rid of the ivy on the roof?”

  “Not as good as a chemical would have, but I understand your concerns about the other foliage. The magnificent work you and John did here should be preserved. For once, we are in agreement.”

  Peggy had found through the years that, if she squinted hard enough, she could see a little of John in his uncle’s face. They were about the same height and build. Dalton’s hair had gone white though the years, and there were more wrinkles. But seeing her husband in him made dealing with him a little easier.

  “I heard you retired from your law firm last month.”

  “Semi-retired.” Dalton narrowed his blue eyes as he put one hand across his brow to shade his gaze from the sun. “I’m not the kind to play golf twenty-four hours a day.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “I heard something disturbing about John, Peggy.” His gaze shifted from the work being done on the roof to her face. “What’s this about you hiring a private detective to look into John’s death?”

  Peggy smiled. “That’s what happens when you don’t get the information from the source. I didn’t hire a private detective. I was working on another case with one who claimed to have some knowledge of why John was killed.”

  The disbelieving expression on Dalton’s face was comical. “If you have money you want to throw away, you should donate it to a charity. We all know why John was killed. What more knowledge do you need about it?”

  “John was working with the FBI at the time of his death. Did you know that? Some people think his death wasn’t the random act of violence that it seemed.”

  “The FBI? Who told you that, Peggy? I suppose that was your private detective.”

  “No. It was the FBI. John’s case is still open with them, and with the police. They’re still trying to find out why John was killed. They think John had information that his killers didn’t want to get back to John’s FBI partner.” She didn’t plan to mention that John’s partner had been Steve.

  Dalton shook his head. “Why would John have done something like that? Wasn’t it foolhardy enough that he was a police detective? I can’t think what possessed him to take up that career.”

  “You were very clear about that when John was alive. You obviously didn’t know him very well. He wanted to help people. This was his way.”

  “I’ve helped people my whole life as a lawyer. No one has ever shot at me. John was reckless, or he’d still be alive today.”

  Peggy started to explain further.

  He cut her off. “Never mind. I don’t want to know anything else about it. I’m going to talk to the foreman of the roofing company. I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye.” Peggy shook her head. Same old Dalton. At least he hadn’t reminded her, as he usually did, that John’s cousin would be back someday to take the house from her. Not that it was true—John’s cousin wasn’t interested in the house yet. She knew Dalton just liked to rub it in that the house and property weren’t hers.

  With a sigh, Peggy took her bike out of the car. She went inside for her riding satchel that she used to carry her handbag, and other necessary supplies, over her shoulder.

  Shakespeare was whining as he heard the roofers walking across the ceiling. She tried to comfort him, but the noise was threatening. Peggy put him in the basement with her plants so that the sound would be baffled. He curled up on a rubber mat and closed his eyes.

  “Don’t make me regret this,” she said as she stroked his head. “No bouncing around, upsetting the plants. Okay?”

  His doggy snore was her only answer.

  Oh well. She went back upstairs. She could only hope Shakespeare and her plants would cohabitate peacefully while she was gone. She put on new lipstick, grabbed a power bar in case she missed dinner, set the alarm, and went out to her bike.

  Most people were headed home at this time of day, but traffic was bad going both ways. Peggy kept her bike close to the edge of the road. There seemed to be some drivers who just didn’t want to share the road. They veered too close to her and even honked their horns and yelled obscenities.

  As much work as Charlotte had put into making bike riding friendly with cars on city streets, it was still not quite acceptable.

  Peggy reached Brevard Court as Selena was closing down for the day. They held the garden club at the Kozy Kettle so that members could enjoy snacks and drinks—and it was good for Emil and Sofia too.

  “I thought you weren’t going to be here.” Selena picked up the tray of flowers that Peggy had made up for the club. “Did you already dig up the body?”

  “Yes. They didn’t need me afterward, so I thought I might as well come back here and take care of the garden club so you can go home.”

  Selena tapped her chin as though she was considering a complex physics problem. “But what will I do with myself? Working for you is my life.”

  Peggy took the tray from her. “Then you definitely need some time off.”

  “I was sure of that today when Sam started giving me a lecture on men I should be trying to date. Any idea what caused that?”

  “Afraid not. I have to go. Thanks for everything. Have a good night.”

  Peggy shook her head as she walked across the courtyard to the Kozy Kettle. Sam!

  Emil opened the door for her. The wonderful smell of baking croissants, shortbread, and chocolate chip cookies almost picked her up off the floor. Her stomach growled, and she knew she was going to have to eat something besides the
power bar in her bag.

  “Come in, come in!” Sofia was moving through the small crowd of gardeners with samples to make them hungry. “Would you like some tea? Emil, make Peggy some tea.”

  “I will.” Emil moved close to Peggy. “How was it—digging up the body?”

  “It was as bad as you’d expect. We can only hope to solve the mystery of what killed the poor woman.” Peggy didn’t even bother asking how he knew.

  “I helped dig up one of my cousins when I was a teenager.” Emil shook his head. “Bad business. His father thought he was a vampire. He was ready to cut off his head and fill his body with garlic.”

  “Okay. I’ll bite.” Peggy smiled as she knew she was in for one of his fantastic stories. “What happened?”

  “My cousin was too smart for us. He changed into a bat as we opened his coffin. He flew around and around until he disappeared. No one ever saw him again.”

  “That’s amazing,” Peggy said. “Looks like we have a good crowd for garden club tonight.”

  “You know it.” He rubbed his hands together. “That’s why we love having you and your friends here with us. Has Sofia thanked you for that privilege yet?”

  “More than once. Don’t worry. You do so many nice things for me too. That’s what friends are for, right?”

  He wrapped one meaty arm around her and squeezed hard. “That’s right. Sofia and I—we love you. But you should get rid of your husband and meet someone new. That man just isn’t right. You need a man who knows his way around a farm. We could all benefit from that.”

  Emil and Sofia had never thought Steve was good enough for her. Even though she and Steve were married, they were constantly looking for another man for her. She guessed they must know a friendly, single farmer now who they wanted her to date.

  Peggy put her tray of flowers down on one of the tables. Her plans were to discuss the language of flowers today. It was a popular subject with her garden club members, and they frequently asked her to repeat it.

  The garden club members spoke about exciting happenings with their plants and other gardening projects. Claire Drummond had plenty to say about Sam and encouraged everyone to take advantage of his landscaping services.

  Peggy was glad Sam wasn’t there. The way Claire made it sound, Sam was doing more than fertilizing her yard and planting new bushes. She knew that wasn’t true, but not everyone else did. He would’ve laughed it off, but she knew he would’ve been uncomfortable.

  “Does anyone have any other projects or news they’d like to share with us before we begin the program?” Peggy asked with a smile, looking up at her lively audience.

  Her eyes made contact with one of the few men present. Ray Quick stared back at her with a grin on his tan face.

  Tansy

  A hardy perennial with a strong odor, tansy has strong antiseptic properties. It was once used to preserve the dead. It is still believed to stop decay. Its name is from the Greek athanatos, which means immortality. Tansy makes good insect repellent. Dried flowers and leaves will keep flies and ants out of your house.

  Chapter Nineteen

  With so many people around, Peggy wasn’t worried about her attacker deciding to sit in on her garden club meeting. It made her nervous, mostly because it meant he was following her activities with a careful eye. She needed to call Al and let him know what was going on. Maybe he could send someone to pick up her antagonist. This could be the identification he was looking for.

  Putting it aside for now, she started her program. There would be time later to sneak away and call for help.

  “Since the early 1800s, the language of flowers has had a meaning all its own. When it first began, the meanings were silent messages—mostly for lovers—but also to warn away those who were unwanted.” Peggy fixed her eyes on Ray Quick as she said it.

  He nodded and grinned at her. No remorse.

  “At that time, words might not be spoken when meeting a lover to let him or her know how you felt. A lady at a party might let her favorite gentleman know that she cared for him by wearing a white clover in a floral arrangement or tucked into her hair. The clover meant, think of me.”

  A few women in the audience sighed and giggled at such a romantic gesture.

  “A gentleman who wanted to profess his feelings for a lady without words might send her a bouquet that included white jasmine, morning glory, and a red rose. Thus, his lady would know how he felt. She, in turn, could use one of the flowers he’d sent her in her hair or as part of a bouquet that she carried to a party.”

  “What if a gentleman sent something romantic to a lady, and she didn’t return his feelings?” Sharon Crosby asked. She was going through a divorce, and everyone knew it.

  “In that case, a lady might carry some tansy with her,” Peggy replied. “That would mean the lady was having hostile thoughts toward the man.”

  Sharon’s friend, Diedre, laughed and nudged her with her elbow. “You need to plant a bunch of that around your house, Sharon. Then maybe Tripp might get the idea.”

  There was some good-natured laughter, but everyone there was on Sharon’s side of the divorce. They meant well by it.

  “My daughter is planning her wedding,” Kim Rogers said with a smile. “She’s looking for some unusual plants for her bouquet and the table settings. Any suggestions according to meanings?”

  Peggy nodded. “A good wedding bouquet flower, to get away from the usual roses and mums, might be ivy for fidelity, pansy for loving thoughts, and red tulips for a declaration of love. Holly might be good on the tables since it signifies domestic happiness.”

  Kim wrote down what Peggy said. “Thanks. I’ll tell her.”

  There were dozens of questions about various plants and flowers. Peggy answered them with one eye on Ray Quick, who was drinking a cup of coffee and munching on some chocolate chip cookies.

  Part of her wished he’d just go away, while the other part knew he should be in jail after assaulting her. She wanted to see him in jail, although that might only cause someone else to come after her. She already knew he wasn’t working alone.

  The garden club program was winding down. Peggy’s friends were thanking her for doing a program about the language of flowers again. Some were getting ready to go home. Emil and Sofia were beginning to clean up.

  Peggy excused herself and ducked behind the tall glass cabinet that held all of the baked goodies each day. She called Al’s cell phone, but there was no answer.

  Of course.

  She knew she could call 911, but it would be difficult to explain what her situation was. Al would know what she was talking about. She thought about calling Steve but hated to drag him into this, as eager as he might be to help her with this problem. There could be complications for him too. An FBI agent probably wasn’t supposed to arrest someone for a common assault.

  The Kozy Kettle was emptying out quickly as dusk fell across the courtyard outside. Peggy knew she had to do something—Ray Quick was the only one who didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave.

  The front door to the shop opened with a light tinkling of a strand of silver bells that Emil had placed over it. Peggy looked through the glass cabinet, hoping it was Ray Quick leaving. Instead, it was Paul.

  In one quick whoosh of breath, her heartbeat slowed down, and then revved back up again. What if Ray Quick was carrying a gun and shot Paul? What if her son was killed trying to help her?

  Paul saw her looking through the glass and frowned. By then, Ray Quick was the only one there besides his mother, Emil and Sofia. He quickly summed up the situation and moved toward the table where Ray was sitting.

  Peggy almost ran out and told her son to leave right away. The words were on her lips as she came around the corner of the glass pastry cabinet.

  “Something wrong here?” Paul stood immediately behind Ray. He wasn’t wearing his uniform.

  “Hey, Paul!” Emil greeted him. “We got coffee and cookies left. Are you feeling hungry?”

  In that momen
t, as Emil and Peggy came out from behind the counter, Ray looked back at Paul. He put his hand into his pocket. Paul moved quickly, pushing the other man forward so that his face was against the table.

  “What’s happening here?” Emil asked. “Is this man a criminal?”

  Paul nodded at Peggy. “Mom? Is this the guy? Or are you sneaking around behind the pastry shelves for the fun of it?”

  She put her hand to her chest. She was having a difficult time breathing. “That’s him. Be careful. He could be armed.”

  “What?” Ray held his hand up on either side. “I didn’t do anything. I sat in on a flower program. That’s not against the law, is it?”

  “Not unless you’re stalking the woman you assaulted in the hospital parking lot,” Paul said as he held on to him. “What’s your name?”

  “Ray Quick. I think you must have the wrong man, kid.”

  Paul got him to his feet. “We’ll see. Let’s go. Call 911, Mom. Anyone got any rope?”

  Peggy and Emil walked outside with Paul. Emil carried his baseball bat in case Paul needed his help. Paul put Ray into the backseat of his car, using his belt to secure his hands.

  “I guess we showed you, woman hater!” Emil shook the bat at Ray.

  “Thanks for your help.” Paul shook Emil’s hand. “I think we’ve got this.”

  “I was glad to help.” Emil put his big hand on Peggy’s shoulder. “Are you okay? This won’t stop you from giving your garden talks at my shop, will it?”

  “No. Of course not. If he was looking for me, he would’ve found me at The Potting Shed too.”

  “Good! That’s good. I’m going back to help Sofia now. See you tomorrow.”

  Paul and Peggy waited for the police car to arrive.

  “How did you know?” she asked him.

  He shrugged. “You looked scared. I knew the general description of what the man who attacked you looked like. It was a reasonable guess.”