“I don’t know whether to be relieved or frightened that you’d think such a thing. You ladies have been watching too much TV.” The chief smiled at them as they strolled out of the garage, but he held Paul back. “We need to have a word.”
Lilla, Ranson, and Peggy got into the Jeep to wait. “Now he’s going to lose his job,” Lilla fretted. “I blame myself.”
“I blame you, too,” Peggy said. “I hope it won’t be that bad.”
Ranson added, “Paul’s doing a fine job for the Charlotte Police. I’m sure they’ll take that into consideration.”
Paul’s face was red when he finally emerged from the garage. He got in the Jeep, slammed the door, and started the engine without speaking. They were all the way to the street before Lilla finally blurted out, “I can’t stand it anymore! What happened? Were you fired? Because if you were . . .”
“I wasn’t fired,” he replied through clenched teeth. “You could say the chief took me down a notch or two. If anything else like this happens surrounding Mrs. Mullis’s death, it will be a lot worse.”
Peggy sighed. She was almost too tired and dirty to care what happened next. She asked Paul to drop her off at home. The ride from the shop to her house on Queens Road was less and less appealing, especially considering it was rush hour. Charlotte drivers didn’t like to share the road with bicyclists.
“Sure.” Paul turned sharply on Kings Drive. “What’s up with the Potting Shed? It seems really slow. Isn’t this your busy season?”
“It should be,” she agreed. “But this drought is really hurting business. I’m trying to come up with something clever to bring in customers.”
“I suppose the problem is watering what you plant,” Ranson said. “You just have to convince people to catch some rainwater for their plants.”
Peggy nodded. “I know. But we have to have rain to catch.”
“You’ll think of something,” Paul said. “You always do.”
“Any good forensic work coming up?” Ranson almost rubbed his hands in anticipation. He loved being part of Peggy’s “cases.”
“Don’t encourage her.” Lilla dampened his spirits. “Why would you want our daughter out investigating dead people? Of all things for a woman to do!”
Peggy couldn’t believe her ears. “Weren’t you just begging me to help your friends find out what happened to Lois?”
Lilla rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t say begging, exactly. I was grateful you were willing to organize them. The poor old things don’t know what to do. That’s a different kettle of fish from you out there cutting open some stranger who died mysteriously.”
Paul laughed. “Sounds the same to me.”
“Well, I never!” Lilla refused to look at them as they pulled off Queens Road into Peggy’s driveway.
Steve’s green Saturn VUE, newly airbrushed with NEWS-OME’S ANIMAL CLINIC, was parked close to the house. He was getting out of the SUV and waved to them as he came around to the back door.
“Steve must be here as much as he’s home.” Ranson chuckled. “I know it’s not the cookin’. Must be somethin’ else bringing him back.”
Lilla perked up when she heard that. “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, Margaret, but people are going to talk if he’s here all the time.”
Paul laughed. “They must be talking a lot if that’s the case. I’ve been here at midnight and six in the morning when Steve was already here. I think he has a crush on Mom.”
“Look at that eucalyptus over there.” Ranson tried to change the subject. “It won’t take much more. I’ve never seen a time so dry. Looks like we need a rain dance or two around here.”
“We could stop in for dinner,” Lilla offered, already opening the door.
“Not tonight, Mom,” Peggy said. “I’m taking a shower and going to bed. I might manage to eat some toast on the way. I don’t think it’s a good night for company.”
“Maybe you should tell him that.” Lilla nodded toward Steve as he approached the Jeep.
“Now, darlin’,” Ranson whispered.
“Hey, are you guys getting out or just sitting here?” Steve asked as Paul rolled down his window.
“There appears to be a debate going on about that,” Paul told him. “For me, it depends on what’s for dinner. Mom says she’s having toast and going to bed. Did you have something else in mind?”
Lilla sucked in her breath. “Paul! For goodness’ sake! What kind of thing is that to ask?”
Steve laughed. “I wouldn’t expect much more than that, Paul.” He nodded to Ranson and Lilla. “Hi, there. If you’d like to come in, I’m sure I could scramble a few eggs.”
“Presuming there are eggs,” Peggy corrected him.
“He acts like he lives here,” Lilla hissed at her husband in a way that made it clear to everyone what she thought of the idea. “Margaret, you’d better take care.”
“I think you’re right, Sweet Pea,” Ranson told his daughter. “It doesn’t seem like a good night to come in. Besides, we’re having dinner next Tuesday, right? We’ll see you later.”
Lilla protested, but was overruled as Peggy got out of the Jeep and Paul started backing down the driveway. “I don’t know what she expects from that man! She encourages him to take advantage of her at every turn. Why, if I didn’t know better . . .”
Peggy waved as the Jeep sped away, mingling with the heavy traffic on Queens Road. It had been a good idea to let Paul drop her off here. She could barely make her tired body take her into the house. Her father was right about the eucalyptus she’d planted before the drought had reared its ugly head. It was looking pitiful. The twenty-five-room, turn-of-the-century house, built by John’s great-grandfather, had a well that had been in place for years before city water had reached the property. But it was a huge yard, and it was hard to keep up by hand-watering everything from the well as much as it needed. The property had remained its original size despite the city building up around it. It was a blessing to have so much green space in the middle of the city, but right now it was also difficult to care for it.
Peggy and John had used the yard to grow experimental plants in the long, warm summers, and had even brought some of her botany students from Queens University there when she’d taught. John had enjoyed gardening, too. He’d planted pecan trees and an apple tree in the backyard between the old oaks. It would’ve been wonderful to think that Paul would live there someday, but John’s nephew would inherit the property when Peggy gave it up.
The house was in trust for the oldest son in the Lee family. It had passed to John but wouldn’t pass to Paul, since John’s brother, Dalton, had a son older than Paul who was waiting for it. The trust was a good idea, though Peggy wished Paul would be the one to inherit. But maybe Paul’s son would inherit one day. There was always that chance. She could only hope the next Lee to live there would enjoy the house and land as much as she had.
“From the look on your face, I’d say they’re worth more than a penny,” Steve said.
“What?”
“Your thoughts. You looked lost in them.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Is all this mud from this morning?”
“I’m afraid so. You don’t want to know what kind of day this has been.”
“Is that what you were thinking about?”
“No. I was thinking about the house and the land. Sometimes, I really hate that Paul won’t inherit it. I know the trust keeps the land and house from being sold or broken up. But it would be nice to know he’d be here.”
“I think you need something more than toast and a strong cup of peach tea.” Steve started them walking toward the house.
“Is that your professional opinion?” She smiled up at him, realizing how lucky she was to have him in her life.
“I think you could say that. I am an animal doctor, and technically you’re an animal.” Excited barking echoed through the house as Peggy’s Great Dane, Shakespeare, realized his family was finally home.
“I thi
nk he’ll have to chase the squirrels in the backyard tonight.” She yawned, opening the kitchen door. “I’m too tired to let him drag me down the street.”
“You could go upstairs and take a shower, and I’ll find something for us to eat,” Steve offered.
“Am I that horrendous?”
In response, he put his arms around her and kissed her, mud and all. “Not too horrendous. I’ll let Shakespeare out.”
As they walked into the house, the 160-pound, fawn-colored Great Dane launched himself at them. Steve fended off most of the dog’s excitement, but Peggy got her share of licking and jumping. Shakespeare was the first pet she’d ever had, and she was still getting used to living with him. It would’ve been hard not to love him with his energy and enthusiasm, but sometimes it was challenging living with him.
Peggy didn’t argue with Steve taking care of dinner and the dog. It had been a terrible day. Being home in the big, old house helped a little. She checked the soil in the thirty-foot blue spruce that grew in the foyer. It was fine, and digging in the clean dirt was good for her spirits. By the time she walked up the spiral staircase to the second floor, she was humming.
The bedroom she sometimes shared with Steve was a mess. It wasn’t that they were so messy, but Shakespeare had claimed this room as his own when she wasn’t here. He loved to drag the dirty clothes out of the hamper and play with them around the room. She supposed she could close him out of the room during the day, but they’d made a truce that he could mess up this room and leave the others, especially the kitchen, alone.
Sometimes she thought about redecorating the bedroom and bathroom. They looked the same now as when John died. It was the same bed they’d shared. Once in a while, that bothered her. It didn’t seem fair to Steve, and somehow seemed a little disrespectful of John’s memory.
She couldn’t remember how many times John had climbed out of bed in the morning and gone to look out the big front window at Queens Road to see how the traffic or weather was that day. He’d gotten out of their bed the night he was killed. They’d called him for a domestic dispute even though he was on Homicide. There had been an outbreak of the flu that had kept many officers out sick. The problem was only a block away, and Chief Mullis had asked John to check it out.
“I should be back quickly,” he’d said as he dressed. “I’m sure they’ll round up some officers to take over. They need someone there now.”
Peggy had smiled and kissed him good-bye, then rolled over to go back to sleep. How many times had he been called out in the middle of the night during his years on the force? It wasn’t that she never thought anything could happen to him. It was just a knowledge she constantly lived with, underlying their lives together yet rarely surfacing.
An hour later, Al, John’s partner, had been at their house. Tears rolled down his dark face as he’d tried to explain what had happened to John. The wife had called in for help when her husband had threatened her. John had tried to reason with the husband, but he’d been shot, dying in Al’s arms a few minutes later. The husband had escaped. He’d never been found.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and brought herself back to the present. She didn’t want to forget John, would never forget him, but she also couldn’t dwell in the past. Every time she looked at this room, it reminded her of that night. Something was going to have to change.
Not sure what she was going to do besides resolving to do something, she pulled off her filthy clothes and jumped in the shower. The hot water and smooth lavender-scented soap made her feel better right away. She wasn’t the kind of person who could ignore the past, but she’d made a new life for herself, and it was a good life. Steve was a wonderful man. The Potting Shed, begun from the tragedy of John’s death and their dream of owning a garden shop, would survive. Her work with the police was still so new, she wasn’t sure how to feel about that yet.
The phone was ringing and her computer was chiming with a message when she emerged from the shower. She ignored both, and wiped a towel across the mirror in the bathroom to clear the steam. Her hair, which had once been as red as Paul’s, was now mostly white. It still seemed odd for it to be that color. She supposed that once the mind settled on the appearance of the body, it was hard for it to accept changes. Her face was pink and freckled, some from the hot water and some from the sun. Because of her work outside, she stayed tan most of the year. It worked well with the white hair, she thought, and emphasized her green eyes. There were a few more wrinkles on her face than she wanted to see, but that was the price one paid for getting older.
Steve knocked on the door. “Phone for you. It’s Al.”
Peggy thanked him and dried off quickly, adrenaline starting to pump through her body, chasing her exhaustion away. Maybe there was a case the police wanted her to look at. It would be unusual for Al to call her about work. Normally she heard from someone in the ME’s office. She was probably getting excited about nothing. Mary might want to have her come to dinner one night.
She picked up the phone. “Hi, Al. What’s up?”
“I know Ramsey usually contacts you about cases we need you on, but he’s in St. Louis at a conference and Mai has her hands full taking his place. Could you come down and take a look at a few things on the Mullis case?”
“Lois?”
“Yeah. It seems it might not be as simple as we thought.”
WITH A BRIEF EXPLANATION TO Steve, Peggy ate her scrambled eggs quickly and was ready to go.
“I’ll let Shakespeare back in, then I’m going to check on my patients,” Steve said. “I’ll see you later.”
She paused, putting on her light jacket. “Are you coming back?”
“Unless you’re coming over there.”
“It should be okay. After today, Mom should sleep well. Paul’s on duty. It should just be us and the dog.” Her heartbeat picked up a notch or two at the thought.
“Sounds good to me. I have some stale donuts I can bring over for breakfast.” He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her. “We haven’t had breakfast together for awhile.”
“I don’t think it’s breakfast you’re talking about.” She smiled and kissed him back. “You never know, I might get ambitious and stop at Harris Teeter for cinnamon rolls on my way home.”
“Don’t you dare!” He drew back from her. “You get home as soon as you can. Stale donuts will be fine as long as we’re eating them together.”
She stared into his gold-flecked brown eyes, losing herself in his gaze. “Do you have a book with all the right phrases in it? How do you always know the right thing to say?”
“It comes from loving you,” he said seriously, then grinned. “But you’re welcome to search me if you think the phrase book is somewhere on my person. We could play good cop-bad cop.”
“You mean good forensic botanist-bad veterinarian. Technically, I’m not a cop.”
“Whatever works. Just get back here as soon as you can, and let’s play.”
They kissed again, and Peggy ran out the door. She gazed up at the stars and thanked them for letting her find Steve.
Fortunately, she’d plugged in her electric pickup even though she hadn’t planned to use it that day. It was a wonderful invention that allowed her to drive a vehicle without feeling guilty. The only good thing she could see about the price of gas being so high was that the days of the internal combustion engine that had polluted the world were numbered. Being a botanist and a champion of all living things, she worried about conservation and cleaning up the world. Being a scientist, she knew the possibilities existed for better technology than the human race had accepted for too long.
The little red Ford Ranger she and some friends had modified hummed along the crowded city streets. She could remember a time when Queens Road was quiet after six p.m. Not anymore. Even after midnight, there were cars on the road. Traffic had increased along with Charlotte’s population explosion. As with any growing thing, there were too many problems and too few answers for what had become he
r hometown. She’d been born and raised in Charleston, but she didn’t think of it as home anymore. Charlotte was where her life and her loved ones were now. Morosely, she assumed it was where she would die.
But not just yet.
There were plenty of lights on at the building which housed the morgue and the ME’s office. Plenty of squad cars, she noticed. It must be a busy night. She smiled at the guard and signed in at the door after she’d found a place to park. She hadn’t realized that Paul’s fiancée, Mai Sato, was in position to take over the office when Dr. Harold Ramsey, the county ME, was gone. It would be much easier working with Mai than with Harold.
At least she thought so until she saw Mai’s bloodshot eyes and panicked face. “Peggy! Where have you been? I had someone call you hours ago! I needed you right away. Didn’t it sound important enough for you to come over?”
Peggy took off her jacket and picked up her white lab coat. “I’m sorry. I just got the message. What seems to be the problem?”
Mai ran her hands through her long black hair until most of it was sticking straight out from her head. “I have three dead gang members and a man who was hit by lightning last month whose son didn’t think he had to do anything with the body. And now this Mullis woman—the chief’s aunt, of all things—seems to be a suspicious death. Help!”
5
Passion Flower
Botanical: Passiflora
Passion flower, also known as maypop, is a woody vine with flowers, which reminded early pilgrims of the passion of Christ, which is how the plant received its name. Children play with it, creating a dancer from it with a little purple skirt and raised arms. The plant produces small berrylike fruit called granadilla or water lemon. The herb is approved by German Commission E for the treatment of insomnia and nervousness. Passion flower reduces spasms and depresses the central nervous system.
A Corpse for Yew Page 5
