Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1 - Schweinitz’s Sunflower
Chapter 2 - Milkweed
Chapter 3 - Mandevilla
Chapter 4 - Borage
Chapter 5 - Cattail
Chapter 6 - Lemon Verbena
Chapter 7 - Peppermint
Chapter 8 - Mock Orange
Chapter 9 - Daisy
Chapter 10 - Cleome
Chapter 11 - Wisteria
Chapter 12 - Forget-me-not
Chapter 13 - Cotton
Chapter 14 - Angel’s Trumpet
Chapter 15 - Orchid
Chapter 16 - Lotus
Peggy’s Garden Journal
Praise for the Peggy Lee Garden Mysteries Fruit of the Poisoned Tree
“I cannot recommend this work highly enough. It has everything: mystery, wonderful characters, sinister plot, humor, and even romance. The way the authors merge plant knowledge into the story line is great! Come on! Does it get much better than this? I am a fan for life; well done Joyce and Jim, keep ’em coming!”
—Midwest Book Review
“All the characters are well drawn and cleverly individualized. The botanical information never gets in the way of the story, and the plot is just complex enough to keep the reader in suspense.”—ReviewingTheEvidence.com
“I love the world of Dr. Peggy Lee! The Lavenes have a wonderful way of drawing their readers into the world of well-rounded and sympathetic characters . . . Well crafted with a satisfying end that will leave readers wanting more!”—Fresh Fiction
“The authors do a wonderful job of crafting a mystery that is organic to both Peggy’s area of expertise and her personal involvement. Information about plants and gardening is woven seamlessly into the narrative . . . I’m looking forward to much more in this series.”
—The Romance Reader’s Connection
Pretty Poison
“A fun and informative reading experience . . . With a touch of romance added to this delightful mystery, one can only hope many more Peggy Lee mysteries will be hitting shelves soon!”—Roundtable Reviews
“A fantastic amateur sleuth mystery ... Will appeal to men and women of all ages . . . A great tale.”
—The Best Reviews
“Peggy is a great character . . . For anyone with even a modicum of interest in gardening, this book is a lot of fun. There are even gardening tips included.”
—The Romance Reader’s Connection
“The perfect book if you’re looking for great suspense . . . Pretty Poison is the first in the Peggy Lee Garden Mystery series, and I can’t wait for the next!”—Romance Junkies
“Joyce and Jim Lavene have crafted an outstanding who-dunit in Pretty Poison, with plenty of twists and turns that will keep the reader entranced to the final page. Peggy Lee is a likable, believable sleuth and the supporting characters add spice, intrigue, and humor to the story.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Complete with gardening tips, this is a smartly penned, charming cozy, the first book in a new series. The mystery is intricate and well plotted. Green thumbs and nongardeners alike will enjoy this book.”—Romantic Times
Peggy Lee Garden Mysteries by Joyce and Jim Lavene
PRETTY POISON
FRUIT OF THE POISONED TREE
POISONED PETALS
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Mairangi Bay, Auckland 1311, New Zealand
(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,
South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for authors or third-party websites or their content.
POISONED PETALS
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the authors
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / May 2007
Copyright © 2007 by Joyce Lavene and Jim Lavene.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without
permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of
the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
eISBN : 978-1-429-57542-3
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
The name BERKLEY PRIME CRIME and the BERKLEY PRIME CRIME design are trademarks belonging
to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
http://us.penguingroup.com
Our thanks to Marysue Rogers of the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department for her help.
1
Schweinitz’s Sunflower
Botanical: Helianthus schweinitzii
Family: Asteraceae
A prairie sunflower native to the U.S. state of North Carolina. It was named for Lewis David von Schweinitz, a Salem, North Carolina, clergyman. Considered endangered. The tubers of the Schweinitz sunflower were a food source for early pioneers.
“SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO LET things die.” The North Carolina Department of Transportation supervisor waxed philosophic as he stood beside U.S. Highway 52 South between the towns of Albemarle and Norwood. “It’s the way of the world.”
“It certainly is.” Dr. Margaret Lee, known to her friends as Peggy, stepped a bit farther away from the busy road toward the ditch that teemed with spring green plants growing under the power lines. “But not today, Mr. Jenks. Today, we’re going to keep this particular thing from dying. Are you ready?”
“They tell me that’s what I’m here for, ma’am.”
Peggy ignored his lack of enthusiasm. “You’re helping to preserve an ancient plant. Your grandparents may have eaten this plant’s tubers to survive a long winter. It may be why you’re alive today.”
“My grandparents were from the Poconos. I don’t think they stopped by here for a snack.”
“You don’t have much of an imagination, do you?” She waded down into the wet ditch, a burlap bag at her side to capture the roots of Helianthus schweinitzii, more commonly known as the Schweinitz’s sunflower. The scent of spring, of life, was everywhere, from the muddy water in th
e ditch that teemed with tadpoles, to the dogwoods and wisteria above her head.
“No, ma’am. They don’t pay me enough to have an imagination.” The burly man in the yellow hard hat and orange vest, with a red and white T-shirt peeking out above the faded jeans, followed her into the ditch with a shovel. “And I don’t see much good in saving a bunch of wildflowers. Sure, they’re pretty and all. But in the scheme of things, they don’t seem like they have much use.”
Peggy tugged on her orange vest. It was too big and kept sliding up, covering her face. A straggly piece of wild rose, just starting to green, caught at her mostly white/red hair. She untangled herself, pricking her finger, and moved forward again. “These wildflowers are part of the ecological chain. If we break one link, what will happen to the rest of the chain?”
“We put another pretty yellow flower in its place?”
“Hardly.” She sighed as she pulled down her vest again. It seemed a little useless to wear the vest in the ditch. What did it matter if drivers saw her down there? Surely they weren’t trying to go off the road!
It was hard enough to convince people endangered animals were worth saving. Most of the time the only people who wanted to conserve them were hunters. And even the hunters thought plants were almost useless, since there was no sport in shooting them. Peggy gave up. “Never mind. Let’s just dig up the tubers and get out of here.”
It was early spring, but it felt like summer. Outside the deep ditch that stretched back to a few thin jack pines, dogwoods, and some scrub brush, it was dry and hot. The smell of baking pavement scorched the air. But down at the feet of the sunflower plants they were moving to accommodate road expansion, it was cool, wet, and humid. She squinted across the road at a new field of cotton starting to grow. Stanly County was a big producer of the two Cs, cows and cotton, both staples to the agriculture industry in North Carolina.
“Could you hold that bag a little lower?” Her NCDOT, North Carolina Department of Transportation, companion didn’t bother to hide his feelings about the job.
Mosquitoes buzzed around them, their constant whine filling in when the road beside them got quiet. They stayed away because of the insect repellent Peggy used, but they were annoying anyway. She supposed she understood, in principle, how her companion felt about the plants, since she felt that all mosquitoes should die. But she understood they, too, had a purpose, albeit a disgusting one.
Peggy was one of the North Carolina botanists helping out with the roadside removal of the Schweinitz’s sunflower to another location in the town of Davidson, about fifty miles away. The highway they stood beside was about to undergo a major growth spurt that would kill one of the few places the sunflowers were located. The sunflower only grew in about six counties in the state, even though it was a native plant. Many of them had been lost to other road construction before the federal government decided the plants were endangered and issued a protection notice.
They only grew in open areas, which tended to be under power lines and in right-of-ways. The electric companies sprayed herbicide to keep trees from growing under the lines and had a hard time understanding the difference between a tall plant and a tree. Many of the sunflowers were lost to that problem.
“Peggy!” Pete Delmond, a botanist who’d come out from the North Carolina Zoo in Asheboro, shook his head. “I can’t believe Helianthus schweinitzii is growing down there! They don’t usually like to get their feet wet!”
“I know,” she yelled back, trying to get past the roar of traffic that whizzed by every few seconds on the busy road. No wonder they wanted to expand! “But here they are anyway.”
“I know! It’s wonderful! I think I see some smaller clumps down this way!”
Peggy watched him walk down the road with his own NCDOT escort. The truck to take these precious few survivors of man’s expansion to their new home was waiting. She held open her burlap bag a little lower and wider. The man beside her shoveled the new green stalks and tubers into the opening.
“How many of these do we have to get?” Jenks wiped mosquitoes from his chunky, sun-browned face.
“All of them. Someday I hope there will be plenty of Schweinitz’s sunflowers, bluegrass, and cardinal flowers in the new prairie areas we’re creating. For now, we have to save what we can.”
“Why create prairies in a state where there are only mountains and trees?”
“Because there used to be vast prairies here, just like in the Midwest. They were created by the native tribes clearing the land for agriculture. And by the elk and buffalo.”
“Elk and buffalo?” He laughed and pushed his hard hat back on his balding head. “No way!”
“Yes. Large herds. Nothing like the size in the western states, but plenty to go around.”
“That’s amazing! You do this for a living? This history stuff?”
“No. I teach botany at Queens University in Charlotte and run a garden shop in Brevard Court. Would you like me to spray some of this on you to keep the mosquitoes away?”
“Nah. I work outside all year. A few bugs don’t bother me.”
“All right.”
“How’d you even know these Schwein-whatever sunflowers were here, if you’re not from Stanly County?”
Peggy smiled. “Because the Historic Land Trust goes through counties around the state and documents all the flowers, animals, and geological landmarks that should be preserved to keep an area’s historical heritage intact. I’m sure you’ve been to Town Creek Indian Mound.”
“Yeah.” He deposited another group of tubers into the bag with a grunt. “That place is awesome! My kids love it!”
“I agree. But it wouldn’t be here if people hadn’t fought to preserve it. These flowers were here ten thousand years ago when those tribes settled here and in the Uwharrie Mountains around us. I think the least we can do is take a few hours to save them for future generations.”
He shrugged. “I guess. I only know doing this delayed starting the road project by three weeks. That means time and money were lost. It hardly seems fair to the taxpayers who pay my salary.”
“Once these flowers are gone, they’re gone forever. Surely a part of our past must be worth a few weeks, even to taxpayers.”
“Maybe.” He shoveled another load into a new bag she held open. “You know a lot about history, huh?”
“Not all history. I just know the history of these plants.”
“Peggy!” Pete called again from his perch five feet above them on the side of the ditch. “We got the smaller clumps. Are you almost done down there?”
“Almost!”
“Good! I’m going over here to look at some dock that’s growing. I think it might be prairie dock. Unless you need help?”
“No, we’re fine.”
A late-model, red Buick stopped, and a short black man in an ill-fitting tan suit got out. He watched them for a few minutes, then cupped his hands around his mouth to yell, “This is church property!” He pointed to the church sign near where they were digging. “You can’t dig there!”
“I got a permit that says I can,” Jenks replied. “And this isn’t church property. It belongs to the state. This is NCDOT right-of-way.”
“Are you sure about that?” the other man demanded.
“Sure as it won’t be here once they finish widening this road into Albemarle.”
“I should probably see your permit.”
“Jesus!” The NCDOT supervisor searched his pockets to find the permit. “Anything else?”
Peggy realized she knew the man who was waiting to see the permit. “Luther? Is that you?” She’d known him for over thirty years, but they were never close. She was close to his brother, Darmus. But Luther was a prickly man. The wrong word could set him off.
He squinted down at her. “Peggy Lee? What are you doing down there?”
The supervisor groaned. “So you two know each other? That sounds about right!”
“I’ll be up in a minute, and we can talk.” She smiled at
the man beside her. “I don’t think you’ll need that permit now. We’ll be fine.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
They finished bagging the last of the sunflowers. Peggy dragged one of the bags with her as she started to climb out of the ditch. It was heavy and extra full, because she was taking a few plants back with her to Charlotte for the Community Garden, as well as a few for her yard.
But Peggy hadn’t considered how steep the embankment was to climb. Coming down had only involved slipping and sliding down the tall grass. She was going to have to crawl out of the ditch on all fours, as embarrassing as that sounded, with Jenks coming right up behind her.
The bag of tubers was like a dead weight, pulling her back down each time she tried to crawl up. She tried to get her feet into secure places and push herself up. Each time the clumps of grass she tried to use to pull herself up with ripped out of the crumbling earth.
“Need some help?” Jenks came right up under her pitiful attempt to get out.
“It’s a little harder going up.” She opened her mouth to say more and laughed a little nervously. Only a squeak came out as Jenks put his hand on her backside and propelled her to the top of the embankment. She had to drop her burlap bag so she could grab the tufts of grass and pull herself the rest of the way out. A car sped by only a few feet from her face.
“I’ll take these to the truck.” Jenks came up after her with all the bags of tubers slung over one shoulder. “Are we done here?”
“If Pete got the others, that’s it.” Peggy took a step back from the road as another car zoomed by. “Thanks for your help.” She handed him her vest, conscious of Luther waiting to talk to her.
“Yeah. Right.” The supervisor tucked her vest under his arm. “Are you showing me where to take these plants?”
“No. Pete’s going with you.” She waved to the other botanist who was waiting by the truck.
Poisoned Petals Page 1
