by Joyce Lavene
“I owe you a cup of coffee, Mort. Good luck with the wedding.”
“Just remember,” he said as she was leaving, “you didn’t hear it from me.”
PEGGY MET WITH AL for a few minutes while he ate a late lunch. She told him everything she suspected about Julie Warner, including what Ronda told her about the threatening phone call.
Al ate his Reuben sandwich and listened politely. Then he pointed his pickle at her and blasted her theory. “I can’t believe you were married to a detective for twenty years and don’t have any faith in us getting the job done.”
“I have faith in you, Al, but—”
“But you’re still sneaking around pretending to be a private detective or something!” He took a bite of his pickle. “We know about the threatening phone call to Ronda McGee. We checked it out, but we couldn’t trace it. As for all this flower business, I know you don’t think the lieutenant is going to listen to a bunch of stuff about funeral wreaths having meaning.”
“It’s no more ridiculous than making poison from anemones,” she argued. “You may not understand it, but it makes sense to people who do. It would be like saying a threat in French was less dangerous than a threat in English!”
“Don’t you think we considered Julie Warner as a suspect? We checked her out. She was home with a sick child. A housekeeper saw her there all night, and she talked to her child’s doctor at about the same time as the murder. We’re not incompetent.”
Peggy tapped her fingers on the desk. “The housekeeper would do anything for her. She hated Mark and felt like he took advantage of Julie. Lying to police isn’t that big a deal. As far as talking to her doctor, she could’ve called him while she was standing over her husband’s dead body.”
Al stared at her. “You really hate this woman, don’t you?”
“I don’t hate her at all,” she defended. “I’m looking for the truth.”
“The truth that doesn’t involve your friend.”
“I know Keeley is innocent. Can you say the same about Julie?”
He wiped his hands on a napkin. “You see, that’s what separates a detective from everybody else. I’m surprised you didn’t realize it sooner. A detective is objective. I don’t have a friend involved in this. If I did, I’d exclude myself from the case. You’re too emotional, Peggy. You can’t see the facts clearly.”
She got to her feet. “Thanks for listening anyway. I have to go to the shop.”
Al didn’t try to keep her, shaking his head as she walked to the door. “No hard feelings?”
She smiled at him. “No. I know you mean well. You’ve got a blob of mustard on your chin. You might want to wipe it off before you see Jonas again. Next time, get an extra napkin.”
SAM WAS AT THE Potting Shed with Hunter, Selena, and Keeley. They were sitting behind the counter while a few customers walked through the store. Peggy wasn’t sure if she should tell them her theory about Julie. It was likely they’d be too receptive. After all, as Al pointed out, they were emotionally involved.
As she walked toward them, Steve came in through the front door. The lights in the courtyard were flickering on in the gloomy twilight. Another storm front was getting ready to pounce on the city. The weather warmed in anticipation, but the depressing atmosphere weighed heavily on them all.
“I think we need to have a party,” Sam said, giving Peggy his chair. “Hey, Steve. How’s it going?”
“Fine.” Steve went to stand beside Peggy, squeezing her shoulder. “What’s with all the gloom and doom?”
Peggy smiled at him, a little zing zooming through her at his touch. Still, she wondered why he hadn’t called.
“The police are about to arrest Keeley,” Hunter told him. “My car had a flat, and I chipped my nail trying to change it.”
“That’s nothing,” Selena told them. “I had a man try to return two hundred pounds of fertilizer today. He insisted it smelled bad and wanted some that smelled good.”
Peggy laughed. “What did you do?”
“I sent Keeley to the drugstore for some baby powder, then I sprinkled it into the fertilizer. He was happy. I couldn’t tell any difference, but whatever works, right?”
“I hate to top everybody’s bad day,” Keeley added. “But my lawyer thinks the police are about to arrest me, and they probably have an airtight case so they don’t look stupid again. I think I get the prize for the worst day. We won’t go into the fact that they ripped my apartment into shreds looking for evidence. Then they descended on my car. They’re like locusts.”
Everyone sympathized with her. Peggy offered to take them all out for pizza if they’d help close up the shop. “Maybe we can sit down and come up with something brilliant to turn all of this around.”
Hunter shook her head. “It’s too late for my nail, Peggy. And I’ll still have to get a new tire. Have you seen those potholes on Trade Street? I was lucky they didn’t swallow my car.”
It only took five minutes to close the shop after the last customer left. Hunter offered to drive them to a pizza place on Park Road. They all piled into her SUV, ignoring the undersized spare tire in the front.
Steve sat beside Peggy with his arm around her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” She smiled at him. “Just hungry.” And wondering where you’ve been.
The restaurant was deserted since it was Monday night and they didn’t have a large-screen TV for football. The group from the Potting Shed didn’t mind. They took up two big tables and had plenty to discuss.
“What’s next?” Sam asked after they ordered their pizzas and beer.
Hunter shrugged. “Janice gives Keeley the best defense she can in the circumstances. We can’t manufacture an alibi. Keeley’s already confessed to being there with Warner that night.”
“What about his other women?” Selena poured a glass of beer. “Sorry, Keeley, but we know he was a three-or four-timing son of a bitch. And that’s not counting his wife.”
“Peggy’s been looking into that,” Hunter answered. “So far nothing’s turned up. As far as the police are concerned, Keeley is the number one suspect for the poisoning.”
“I was out of town for a few days. I can’t believe things progressed so quickly,” Steve reflected. “It’s odd that the Warners’ cat was poisoned, too.”
Peggy took a sip of her water. Steve had been out of town. That’s why he didn’t call. Of course, he could’ve told her he was going out of town. Hush! You don’t know him that well! Then it hit her. “What did you say?”
“The cat was poisoned,” he repeated, glancing at the group as they stared back at him. “What?”
“What kind of poison?” Sam asked. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I didn’t think about it,” Steve answered. “And I don’t know what kind of poison. I didn’t send a sample away. The housekeeper wasn’t interested beyond the fact that he was dead.”
“What happened to the cat?” Peggy wanted to know.
“I gave him to the housekeeper. She said she was going to bury him in the backyard.”
Peggy nodded. “Then I guess we’ll have to dig him up.”
15
Chrysanthemum
Botanical: Chrysanthemum morifolium Family: Asteraceae
Common Name: Mum
The Chrysanthemum genus is made up of 150 species, including the common daisy. Named by Carl Linnaeus, it means golden yellow flower. The name is derived from the Greek words chrysos meaning gold, and anthos, meaning flower. Confucius wrote about chrysanthemums in 500 B.C. According to Chinese feng shui, chrysanthemums bring happiness to your home. Chrysanthemum petals are eaten in salads to increase longevity.
“WHEN YOU SAID dig him up,” Steve whispered, “I didn’t think you meant dig him up.”
“Do you know any other way to test what kind of poison is in the body?” Peggy asked as she led the way across the fence that separated the Warners’ property from their neighbors. She handed him the shovel and the plastic garbage
bag.
“Peggy, this is trespassing and probably other legal terms I don’t know.” As he finished speaking, the rain that threatened all day began to fall. It didn’t bother with a few drops here and there. Instead, it crushed them in heavy sheets.
She pulled her dark hood up over the brown wool cap she’d used to hide her hair. It didn’t matter. After only a few seconds, she was soaked to the skin. “We won’t get caught. This rain actually works to our benefit. No one’s going to be out on a night like this.”
He jumped over the fence and offered his hand to help her across. “No one except us.”
They crept through the back edges of the estate. Peggy could only hope the housekeeper buried the cat close to the house. There was too much property to search everywhere looking for a small grave. Fortunately, it would be fresh, the ground only recently disturbed. Even in the rain they should be able to find the spot.
“Where do you suggest we start looking?” Steve wondered as they approached the guesthouse and garage behind the main house. There were lights on in the windows of the big house, but the two smaller buildings were dark.
“I’m hoping she buried him in the garden. It makes sense. The ground is soft, and she wouldn’t be disturbing the sod. I know the Warners’ pay a fortune to have their lawn taken care of.”
He shrugged, rain dripping down his face. “That makes as much sense as anything.”
“The only thing is we’ll have to get up close to the house. They probably have the drapes drawn, so we should be safe. We’ll have to be careful how we use the flashlight.”
“Okay. You use the flashlight, and I’ll dig where you tell me to dig.”
Peggy smiled at him. “Thanks for coming with me, Steve. After stealing Mark’s body, I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for this. Not many people would be willing to go and dig up a dead cat.”
“That’s not how it sounded to me. I thought Sam was going to hit me when I offered to come with you. All of them wanted to dig up the dead cat.”
“They’re college students, except for Hunter.”
“You must be right,” he said. “She was the only one who didn’t want to be here.”
They walked around the garage and found themselves in the beginning of the formal garden area. It was nicely manicured with carefully laid out paths. Statues and topiaries were illuminated, helping to show the edges of the winding trails.
“There must be an acre of garden.” Steve stood still in the rain and looked at the yard. “How are we going to find it?”
“There won’t be a lot of digging going on in the garden this time of year. I’m sure they have it cleaned up. Julie’s very particular. We should be able to see any place the soil’s been disturbed. It’ll be easy.”
An hour later, they were still looking. The lights went off in the house, but the rain was still falling. A cold wind began to blow in from the north, creating tiny icicles in the trees. The decorative lights picked them out, making prisms in the ice.
Peggy was on her hands and knees, shining the flashlight between rosebushes and birdbaths. A few spots looked promising but ended up being new plantings. Apparently there was more fall work than she’d anticipated.
“I don’t know if we can find it like this,” Steve said. “Maybe I could ask Emma where she buried the cat. I could tell her I need it for research or something.”
“You’d say anything to go home right now, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Even my goose bumps are frozen and wet. And I don’t see how we’ll find it in all of this. It’s like a maze.”
Peggy laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll find it. And for the record, I don’t think anyone would respond well to you asking to do research on their dead cat.”
“It was just a thought. My brain is mostly frozen, so it might not have been the best thought but—”
“I think I found it!” She interrupted his misery to point the flashlight at a small mound of red clay beside the statue of an angel reading a book. A purple mum was in full flower beside it. “There’s even a little cross. This has to be it.”
Steve hoped so and applied the shovel carefully. The ground was soft and wet as Peggy predicted. It only took a moment to dig up a small wood box. “Either they bury their wine or this could be the cat.”
“Let’s open it.” Peggy dropped down beside it, already too wet and muddy to care. “It’s the right size. How does it open?”
“It slides.” He demonstrated, pushing the flat panel open. “And voilà! A dead cat.”
She looked at the partially decomposed animal. It was wrapped in a yellow scarf. “Is it the right cat?”
“Looks like it to me.”
“Are you only saying that so we can leave?” She glanced up at him.
“No, of course not. It’s the same cat. Can we leave now?”
“Steve!”
“Peggy, I’m in a stranger’s backyard digging up their dead cat. Why would I bother lying to you now? If it isn’t the right cat, you’ll make me come back again. Trust me. It’s the same cat.”
She closed the wood panel and struggled out of the mud to get to her feet. “Okay. Let’s cover it up and get out of here.”
Before they could move, the back door to the house opened. The bright yellow light from inside alerted them. Steve dropped down to the ground beside Peggy, putting his arm around her. Peggy snapped off the flashlight. They crouched down close to the bushes, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed.
A tiny figure in a dark poncho walked down the path from the house. The fairy lights in the garden illuminated her footsteps. She walked by close enough to touch Steve and Peggy, but the darkness protected them. Not wasting any time in the terrible weather, she opened the guesthouse and went inside.
“Let’s get out of here,” Steve whispered. He made sure Peggy was out of the way and closed the hole in a few seconds. “Thank God. Next time you ask me to do something with dead bodies, remind me to say no.”
She kissed his cold, wet cheek. “I will.”
They ran quietly out of the yard the same way they went in, careful to stay clear of the guesthouse, where one light burned in the window. Peggy felt safe once they put the garage between them and the house. They climbed the fence, sliding on the icy mud as they reached the neighbor’s yard. Steve took her arm, and they ran the rest of the way back to the Saturn.
Once they got there, Peggy felt guilty about the mess she was about to make in his car. She hesitated after the door was open. Maybe she should walk home. It wasn’t that far. He’d never get all the mud out if she sat down.
“Don’t worry about it.” Steve pushed himself behind the wheel. The muddy shovel was already in the backseat. “Autobell does a fine job of cleaning the car.”
She laughed as she got in. “Am I that transparent?”
He leaned close and kissed her. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s that I feel I’ve known you my whole life.”
“It’s possible, you know. I’m older than you.”
“Good thing.” He started the car. “If you were younger, I couldn’t keep up with you.”
IT TOOK TWO DAYS to get the results back from the independent lab. The cat was poisoned with anemonin.
“But to really compare the poison in Mark Warner, Molly Stone, and the cat, we’ll need the source where the poison was created.” Peggy put the test results down on her kitchen table.
“I’m not breaking into the Warners’ house,” Steve said. “I draw the limit at moving dead bodies around the city.”
“I could probably get some buddies, and we could break in,” Sam suggested.
“Thanks for the offer.” Peggy smiled at him. “But it wouldn’t do us any good. Even this lab test doesn’t prove enough for Al to get a search warrant. Without one, the evidence is useless. Julie would go free.”
“What do we need?” Sam grabbed a donut from the cabinet. “What does it take to get a search warrant?”
Peggy refilled Steve’s cup of coffee. “It takes hard ev
idence to make a judge decide they have a reason to search a place.”
Shakespeare started barking. When Paul walked in through the kitchen door, all discussion of the murder ceased. His blue police uniform was enough to remind them of the obstacles they faced trying to prove that Julie killed her husband.
“Ever have the feeling people are talking about you?” Paul wondered as he walked into the silent room. “What’s up?”
Sam looked at Peggy and shrugged. “Nothing. We were just talking.”
“About what?” Paul poured himself a cup of coffee. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were planning to buy drugs and guns and transport them across the state line.”
