Pretty Poison plgm-1

by Joyce Lavene

  The woman smiled. “Yes. And you’re Mrs. Lee from the garden shop, right?”

  “That’s right! You were here the day I came to look at Julie’s delphinium. It was breathtaking, wasn’t it?”

  “It was. She has such a gift for growing things.” Emma shivered. “But come inside out of the cold. Is this Mr. Lee?”

  Peggy assured her that it wasn’t and introduced Steve to the housekeeper.

  “Come in, come in. I know Mrs. Warner would want me to fix you some tea since you’re here. Dr. Newsome, maybe you can take a look at my cat. She’s been sick for a few days.”

  Everyone knew Julie Warner did her own decorating. She had exquisite taste and style. Her house was a mandatory stop for house and garden tours. It was her crowning achievement. Crystal chandeliers shimmered in the sunshine coming in from sparkling windows. Everything in the house was from the early 1900s or a faithful reproduction, from the rugs underfoot to the tapestries on the wall. Above the fireplace was a life-sized portrait of Julie with her children.

  “How’s she holding up?” Peggy asked while Emma poured each of them tea in pristine white cups. The strong aroma told her it was a blend of pekoe and hibiscus.

  “She’s good, I guess. It’s a brave face. She deserved better.”

  “Everyone does. Thanks, Emma.”

  “You’re welcome.” Emma sat down beside her at the scrubbed oak table. “Mark Warner was a snake.”

  Peggy heard the white-haired cook catch her breath, but she never stopped kneading the bread dough on the floured board. “That’s pretty harsh!”

  “I know. But it’s true. Everybody knew it. He treated Miss Julie like she was worse than a dog! Running after anything in a skirt. Not caring everybody knew. The man deserved to die and that’s the truth!”

  Steve choked on his tea, apologizing as he picked up his napkin.

  Emma glanced at him, then continued. “He could be doin’ it with anyone! Miss Julie never knows when he’s comin’ home. Once he even gave her a disease.”

  Peggy was more surprised the housekeeper shared that information than she was by the fact. “That’s awful!”

  “She was pregnant with the boy when the doctor told her. It wasn’t serious. He treated it. But she knew how she got it. Threatened to leave him.”

  “Why did she stay?”

  “She got all this.” Emma waved her hand around the huge kitchen. “And he always promised it wouldn’t happen again.”

  “There was a woman who was at my shop with him.” Peggy pressed her for more information. “Tall, athletic. Dark hair. Anyone you know?”

  “Sounds a lot like Mr. Warner’s secretary, Angela Martin.” Peggy was surprised by the housekeeper’s

  “Really?” Peggy was surprised by the housekeeper’s response. Was there another woman in Mark’s life besides Ronda McGee?

  “Yes. But he promised Miss Julie it was over between them.”

  “But she didn’t make him fire her?”

  “Mr. Mark says he can work with her without cheatin’. He says what happens at work is his business, and he can’t let someone go without good reason.”

  “So she was still working for him?”

  The housekeeper nodded. “Last I heard. They should check on what she was doin’ that night. Maybe they’d find the killer.”

  “Did you tell the police that?”

  “No. They didn’t ask me. Besides, Miss Julie won’t hear nothin’ bad about that man. But he deserved what he got, no matter. I hope his puta gave it to him good!”

  “Did the police ask what Julie was doing that night?” Steve questioned.

  Emma waved her hand. “Miss Julie wouldn’t kill that man! She got too much to lose! Besides, that night she was up with the boy. He was sick all night, coughing and running a fever. I saw her with him.”

  When they were getting ready to leave, Emma took Steve to see her cat. The animal was curled up in a basket lined with an old blanket.

  Steve crouched down to pet the white Persian’s head. “How long has she been this way?”

  “I’m not sure. Sometimes she gets outside. A few days. I know it hasn’t been a week.”

  He examined the cat, looking in her eyes and touching her stiff legs. “It looks like she got into something outside. I can’t tell what without doing some tests. If you’d like to bring her by, I’ll be glad to see if I can help her.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Emma took a business card from him. “Could I bring her by later today? I get off at five.”

  Steve agreed. Peggy thanked her for the tea, and they left the house.

  “Who would ever guess they were so unhappy?” Steve walked beside Peggy down the front sidewalk. “I didn’t know them personally, but they were always smiling for the camera in the newspaper.”

  “If ever a woman had a motive to kill a man, it seems to me that Julie did. But I don’t think she’s physically capable of the task. And Emma gave her a good alibi.”

  “You were really thinking that Mrs. Warner killed her husband?”

  “Somebody did. To save Mr. Cheever, I have to find out who.”

  SHE WAS TEN MINUTES LATE for her chess game with Nightflyer. Hal Samson began sending the preliminary autopsy results for his poison case. He told her the police had questioned and released the woman’s husband. A South Carolina biohazard team was looking for the possible point of poisoning. They ruled out the bank where she worked and concentrated their efforts on her home.

  “I thought you weren’t coming.” Nightflyer’s words appeared in the chat box.

  Peggy made her first move on the chessboard. Black pawn to f4. “I was busy.”

  “Looking into that anemonin poisoning?”

  She barely noticed his move. “How do you know about that? Are you on Dr. Samson’s staff? If you are, you should know that discussing this could be a breach of your hospital contract. You could be fired.”

  “I’m not on staff at the hospital.”

  “Then who are you?” She moved. Black bishop takes white rook on e4.

  “With your suspicious mind, I’m surprised you haven’t accused me of poisoning the woman.”

  “Did you?”

  The game proceeded forward with no response from Nightflyer. Peggy admired his skill at chess. It was all she could do to keep him at bay. They chased each other across the virtual chessboard. Her gaze stayed glued to the screen while she waited impatiently for his reply. Would he admit to poisoning the woman?

  White queen checks black king at g8. “Check.”

  “Are you going to answer my question?” She typed, ignoring the game. He had her in check in less than ten minutes. But she was preoccupied. Maybe he introduced the subject to win the game.

  “No, Peggy. But I might know who’s responsible.”

  She knew the game was lost and didn’t pay attention to her next move. “You can tell me, and I can tell the authorities.”

  “What fun would that be? Watching them try to figure it out is better than chess. Checkmate.”

  She didn’t know which part of their on-line relationship was more frustrating. She wasn’t a great chess player, but she was pretty good. Better than most players she faced. To have him kick her butt so quickly was demeaning. On the other hand, the game meant nothing in comparison to the poisoning case. How could he have that privileged information?

  “Why are you telling me this? Do you want attention? Why not go to the police and get your face on television and in the papers?”

  “I don’t want their attention, Peggy. I want your attention.”

  “You have it. What do you want me to do?”

  “Meet me here again tomorrow night. Midnight.”

  She wanted to say no. She didn’t want to talk to him again. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise when she read that he wanted her attention. No single woman living alone wanted to think some strange man was out there stalking her. And she just knew Nightflyer was a man.

  But she agreed to mee
t him again. If he had information about the poisoning case, she felt duty bound to pursue what he knew. Even though he told her he wasn’t responsible for the poisoning, how could she believe him? He could be a killer.

  “Good night, sweetheart. Until tomorrow night.”

  Peggy started to reply, but Nightflyer was already gone. She sat and stared at the screen for a long time, trying to decide what to do. Should she tell the South Carolina police? She wasn’t sure Nightflyer said anything he could be arrested for. But if they found out who he was, they might be able to get a lead on where the anemonin came from.

  She poked around on the game site again. There wasn’t a list of E-mail addresses for members. In fact, there was no membership required to play. It was something that drew her to the site. She didn’t like to leave her name and E-mail address all over the Internet. She wished she’d been a little less picky. If the site required membership, it would be easy to find out his real-world identity.

  A long, deep howl drew her away from the computer. The dog had been quiet in the laundry room all evening. She took him out for a walk at ten. He shouldn’t have to go again. But that disturbing howl was followed by another, this one longer and louder than the first. Imagining Clarice calling the police, Peggy ran down the cold marble staircase and opened the laundry room door to see what was wrong.

  The dog was whimpering and howling from his place on the vent. As soon as he saw the door open, he ran head-first into her. Peggy almost lost her footing and grabbed the counter for support. The dog nudged her with his huge head, then licked her arm and hand until she was soaked.

  “What’s wrong, boy?” She patted his head and rubbed his belly. He responded by wagging his tail so hard that his whole body shook.

  There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him. He had plenty of water. He’d eaten a huge amount of dog food earlier in the day. She patted his head one last time, then closed the laundry room door and started back upstairs.

  The howling began again. This time when Peggy went back to the laundry room, the dog bounded out and headed for the main staircase.

  “Oh no, you don’t!” She chased him, and he ran up the stairs. He smelled the carpet when he reached the second floor. Immediately, he followed his nose to her bedroom. By the time she caught up with him, he was happily ensconced on her bed. His head was resting on her pillow.

  “You’re not sleeping in my bed,” she told him in her strongest teaching tone. “Come on. Back downstairs.”

  But no matter how hard she tried to get him out of her bed, he wouldn’t budge. She brought out some crackers to try and lure him back to the laundry room. He didn’t move. Finally, she admitted defeat but promised that this was only a battle and not the war.

  “I suppose I’m going to have to come up with a name for you. I can’t go on calling you dog. Maybe if you have a name, you’ll listen better. It doesn’t mean I’m going to keep you. Don’t get your hopes up. If someone doesn’t come to claim you, I’ll get in touch with the Humane Society. There must be someone who wants a big horse like you.”

  7

  Snowdrop

  Botanical: Galanthus nivalis

  Family: Amaryllidaceae

  Common Name: Candlemas bells

  The name galanthus is Greek, meaning milk-white flower. Nivalis is Latin, meaning resembling snow. The legend of the snowdrop: After being expelled from the Garden of Eden, Eve sat weeping. An angel comforted her. As the angel talked with Eve, he breathed on a snowflake in his hand. It fell to earth as the first snowdrop. The flower bloomed, and hope was born.

  SUNDAY PASSED TOO QUICKLY with Peggy grading test papers and walking the streets looking for the dog’s owner. She gave out flyers at church that morning. Myers Park Presbyterian was within walking distance of her house. It was possible someone would recognize the dog’s description. Too many people suggested she call the pound. She wasn’t going to do that, even if she had to keep the dog for a while herself.

  She pushed aside the urge to call Steve and ask him for advice about getting the dog to sleep in the laundry room without howling. It seemed to her things were moving very quickly between them, and she felt out of place calling him. Instead, she spent half a day on the Internet looking for dog training tips and possible names for the beast.

  He followed her from room to room all day as she worked with her plants and polished furniture. She finally went to sleep with the dog beside her in bed.

  Early Monday morning, she left for the Potting Shed. She didn’t have any choice but to bring the dog with her. He ran alongside her bike as she pedaled hard to keep up with him down Queens Road. Runners who ignored her before stayed out of her way. People waiting at bus stops quickly moved into the plastic shelters.

  They reached Brevard Court in record time. It took Peggy a few minutes to catch her breath. The dog looked at her and wagged his tail as she tied his leash to an old radiator still in place behind the checkout counter. He lay down on the smooth wood floor and didn’t move as she got ready to open the shop.

  “Are you Peggy Lee?”

  A woman’s voice surprised her as she was taking out the new chrysanthemums. She was very attractive, tall and thin, with shoulder-length burnished red hair and bright green eyes. Her coat and shoes were new but not expensive. She clutched a worn brown leather pocketbook like she was afraid it would get away.

  “Can I help you?” Peggy wondered if this was yet another of Mark’s conquests. At this rate, she was going to make enough money from flowers for the dead man that the police might question her motives.

  “I’m Jane Cheever.” She held out her gloved hand. “You helped my father.”

  “Of course! Sit down. Would you like some tea? I have some excellent orange spice. It will only take a minute to put the kettle on the hot plate.”

  “No thanks.” Jane sat down on the bench anyway. “I wanted to meet you. And I wanted you to know I appreciate your efforts to help my father. I can’t believe a stranger would go to so much trouble for him. How did you meet him?”

  “He spends some nights in the courtyard outside the shop,” Peggy answered, thinking nothing of it. “We’ve had some intense philosophical debates. He’s very intelligent.”

  “Yes, well, he’s also very misguided.” Jane looked up at the window across from her, still gripping her pocketbook. “It was very embarrassing to have someone call about my homeless father. The police looked at me like it’s my fault he’s homeless.”

  “I’m sure they didn’t think so.” Peggy tried to comfort her. “He’s a good man. Down on his luck, I know. But I don’t believe he’d hurt anyone.”

  “Maybe. But he’s not really down on his luck. I’m afraid he’s lied to you about that. He was living with me and my husband. He didn’t like the rules. We thought he shouldn’t be wandering around all night. That he should take his medication. We got into an argument, and he left. That was two years ago. I haven’t heard from him since. Not that I didn’t look for him. I couldn’t find him. I even called in a missing persons report on him. I hate people calling him homeless. He has a home. He chose not to live there.”

  Peggy understood, even empathized, but that didn’t change the fact that Jane’s father could go to jail for the rest of his life. “Have you seen him?”

  “No. They said I could after the arraignment. I think that’s today.”

  “I saw him Saturday. Something’s wrong with him. You know how he quotes things and knows everything about literature? He wasn’t like that. He barely knew who I was.”

  Jane’s lips pressed tightly together. “Maybe now he’ll listen to me. He’s a stubborn old man. Maybe it would be better for him to go to jail. At least I’d know he was being cared for. He wouldn’t be out on the streets.”

  “Don’t say that!” Peggy’s temper rose. “No one is better off in jail. Especially for a crime they didn’t commit.”

  “Why are you so sure he didn’t kill that man? The police said they found him with his wallet and sho
es. He could’ve knocked him down to take them. Maybe he didn’t mean to kill him. It might have been an accident. But he’s still responsible.”

  “Hogwash! I know your father well enough to know he wouldn’t hurt anyone, no matter how desperate he was. I’d think you’d know him that well, too. I realize this is an emotional time for you, but he needs you to stand up for him. You can’t let him down.”

  Jane lowered her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just get so desperate. My neighbors remember him from when my mother was still alive. He was an English teacher for forty years. When my mom died, he snapped. He wasn’t the same anymore. Everyone knows he’s been arrested for murder now. Even in Rock Hill, we keep up with what’s going on in Charlotte.”