“I’m going to see if I can bully someone into letting me interrogate Snook Holt.” She smiled at him and wiped away the tears that came to her eyes. “Then I’ll probably give Steve a call and see if he still wants me.”
Paul ruffled her hair with his hand. “You are such a romantic, Mom. How could he resist?”
16
Salvia
Botanical: Salvia officinalis tricolor
Sage and salvia are forever intertwined, as sages are salvias. Salvia is the Latin name for the genus. Through the years, gardeners and healers have come to differentiate them as sages for healing and salvias for decoration. Salvias are tall, spiked flowers that are multicolored and long-lived.
AS PEGGY WAS HEADED OUT the door to badger someone into letting her talk to Snook Holt, her cell phone rang. “I can’t open the shop this morning,” Selena told her when she answered. “I’ve got some kind of bug, and I don’t think I can get out of bed today.”
There wasn’t much to say, except “Get better. Take all the time you need. Call me if I can do anything.” Peggy closed her cell phone after listening to a few minutes of Selena’s symptoms. She depended too heavily on that girl. At times like this she realized how fortunate she was that Selena wasn’t sick more often. She’d been lucky to find her.
It looked like rain again. Knowing she’d have to find time to go to the lab between customers at the Potting Shed, she decided to drive the truck. The engine started easily after she’d unplugged the vehicle. She was on Queens Road shortly after, headed toward Center City.
True to the forecast, a few sprinkles hit the windshield as she was coming up College Street. She parked behind the Potting Shed and hurried inside. A few minutes later, a delivery of potting soil showed up, and then Sam came in with Keeley and Jasper. The day was off and running quickly.
“I tried some lemon juice on these age spots,” the truck driver told her as she signed for the potting soil. “You were right, Peggy. It fades them.”
She handed him the bill of lading and smiled. “It works every time, Jack. People have used it for hundreds of years. But you have to be careful and protect that bleached skin from excess sun.”
Jack flashed her a bright white smile courtesy of his newly capped teeth. With his new toupee and dark tan, he was a changed man since his wife of fifteen years had left him. “I’m trying to get back into the dating scene, you know. Those pretty young things out there don’t want you if you’re not perfect.”
“Maybe you should look for someone not quite so pretty and young,” she advised. “There are other places you can meet women besides bars. Church. Grocery stores.”
“You’re just lucky you and Steve found each other so easy.” Jack started back toward the cab of his truck. “If I could meet somebody that easy, I’d run my truck into someone’s bike, too.”
She waved to him, not telling him that it would have to be the other way around if there was going to be anything left of the lucky woman. She thought about Steve as she went into the Potting Shed. Jasper was checking the pH of the pond while Sam was on the phone. She considered calling Steve, but the situation seemed inappropriate for a phone call. They needed to have a long, heart-to-heart talk about their relationship and how much she missed him. Hopefully, he missed her as much.
“We went over to install one of the systems at Denise Rogers’s place,” Keeley said. “She wasn’t there, and the housekeeper didn’t know anything about it. She threatened to sic her dalmatian on us. Nice, huh?”
“You should’ve called ahead,” Peggy reminded her. “With the price of gas, those kinds of mistakes can cut into profits quickly.”
“We had an understanding.” Sam slammed the receiver down. “She knew we were coming today. What’s so important it couldn’t wait?”
“I don’t know. But you might be better off not having that kind of understanding.” Peggy sat down in her rocking chair. “Tea?”
“I’ll take some.” Jasper got up from the pond and dried his hands on his jeans.
“No time,” Sam told him, walking toward the back door. “If we can’t work on Denise Rogers’s system, we’ll move on to the next and catch her on the way back through the list.”
“What’s the rush?” Peggy asked. It wasn’t like Sam to be so impatient. “That attitude isn’t going to do much for customer relations.”
Sam pointed to the courtyard, which was being pelted by large raindrops. “This could be over with a few good rains. We have to get the systems set up while the drought is still here.”
“I don’t think it’s going away that quickly,” Peggy said. “You’re going to give yourself a coronary, Sam.”
“Maybe. But I want to have at least five hundred of these systems installed before I do.”
She smiled. “I get it. Good luck.”
Jasper asked where they were going, and Sam took out his Palm Pilot. “The Evanses live over by the university. We can be there before ten.”
“The university!” Peggy jumped up from the rocker. “Can you take something to the botanical garden for me while you’re out there? I completely forgot about getting these samples to Merton.”
Sam looked shocked. “You? Forgot something? I don’t believe it. I’d believe you paid Mrs. Rogers not to be home so you could have me deliver whatever it is before I’d believe you forgot something. You must’ve been sidetracked. What’s up? Are you and Steve getting married or having problems?”
He was so close to the truth, it stunned her. For a moment she could only stare at him with what had to be a blank expression on her face.
Sam glanced at her and then put his Palm Pilot in his pocket and crossed the shop floor to wrap his big arms around her. “I guess it must be problems. I don’t think anyone looks like that if they’re getting married.” He smiled down at her. “Unless you don’t want to get married.”
“You were right the first time,” she confessed. “We’ll have dinner and talk about it sometime. Right now, my yew samples are running late. Thanks for the sympathy.”
“Just let me know when you’re ready to talk about it.” He squeezed her tight. “And if Steve is giving you a hard time, I can pay him a little visit.”
Peggy laughed at the evil look on his handsome face. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined by her recalling how many times Paul had looked the same way when he was about five years old. That was one thing about getting older; everyone seemed to become more childlike. “Just get out of here, and don’t forget my yew samples in the truck.”
Sam smiled and was gone, trailed by Keeley and Jasper. In their absence, the shop was very quiet. Peggy wished someone, even a salesman, would come in. She’d straightened and primped the shop until there was nothing left to do.
She finally pulled out her laptop and started working on some flyers for her drought workshop. She was intently making notes about all the plants that would create a sturdy, drought-resistant garden when the courtyard door opened. It was the ladies from the Shamrock Historical Society. She couldn’t believe she was glad to see them, but boredom could do strange things.
“Margaret.” Her mother approached her with Grace, Annabelle, Dorothy, Geneva, and Mrs. Waynewright standing behind her. “We want to talk to you about what happened at the lake last night.”
“We sure do!” Geneva pushed her way to the front. “The police told us that nothing was unusual about the case at the museum where the carnelian ring was stored.”
“Can you imagine that?” Grace nudged Geneva aside. “All this time we were looking at Jonathon being the killer, and it really was that awful Snook Holt.”
“First of all”—Peggy stopped her—“you don’t even know for sure he’s the man Lois testified against.”
“Are you saying you think it’s still Jonathon?” Dorothy asked.
“I saw the bone thief on TV this morning,” Mrs. Waynewright told them. “It was the very same man. He was out there stealing those poor people’s bones right under the nose of the police. He prob
ably hurt Lois because she saw him out there again.”
“I’m sure he knew her right away, and was looking for revenge.” Annabelle added her own theatrics to the discussion by pretending to plunge a knife into her chest.
“We feel so bad for suspecting Jonathon,” Grace said. “We have to find a way to make it up to him. Even if he is a little careless sometimes.”
“Of course, the door in the museum can’t be left open again,” Mrs. Waynewright told them. “We can’t abide that sort of behavior.”
“But how did the thief get the ring?” Lilla asked everyone in general.
“We may never know,” Geneva whispered. “In the meantime, there’s poor Lois getting her hair done for the last time.”
The ladies all sniffled appropriately. Peggy didn’t share her finding Lois’s purse with Snook Holt last night. The ladies certainly didn’t need to know what was really going on, unless she wanted it plastered all over the news by tomorrow morning.
“It’s a terrible thing,” Peggy sympathized, trying to get them to go back outside. She’d been wrong. Boredom was better than this. “I’m glad you came to tell me.”
“We didn’t come to tell you about it,” Geneva said. “We came to take you over to the cemetery. You have to get some training if you’re going to help us identify graves.”
Peggy explained about Selena. “I’d love to come, but I need someone to be here at the store. I can’t just go running off with you, even though I’d like to.”
Lilla’s face brightened. “Your father is just sitting around at home today. I’m sure he’d love to come and watch the store for you. I’ll call him.”
There were no words that came to mind to thank her, so Peggy said nothing. The day just wasn’t working out the way she’d planned it. Maybe there was a good reason for it, but she doubted it.
HALF AN HOUR LATER, Peggy waved good-bye to her father and got into the museum van. Her mother smiled at her, and Geneva thanked her several times for going with them.
“We’re swinging by the museum to pick up Jonathon. It’s the least we can do after misjudging him.” Geneva grinned at Peggy in the rearview mirror, then turned the van sharply into the museum parking lot. “This kind of thing is a treat for all us history nuts.”
Peggy didn’t doubt it. Jonathon got out of his car and climbed into the van, sitting beside her. When the door was closed, Geneva squealed the tires as she left the parking lot.
“It’s good to be part of the group again.” Jonathon smiled and nodded at all the women. “I hear Lois’s funeral will be tomorrow. I ordered a wreath from the museum. I hope that’s all right.”
All the women agreed that a wreath was perfect. Peggy asked him what flowers were on it, but he had no idea. She sat back in her seat, ruminating on how people could ignore the meanings of flowers they used at important times in their lives.
“I’m glad you’re with us today,” Jonathon said to Peggy. “I guess this must be your first grave-hunting excursion.”
The target today was a lone Revolutionary soldier’s grave abandoned years before. Or at least that was what they were looking for. Grace explained that they had only an old account of where the soldier should be buried. They weren’t sure if the grave was still there.
“It’s in a cow pasture,” Annabelle explained. “I brought some spray stuff I got on the Internet that’s supposed to make people smell like cows, so the cows don’t bother them.”
“Did we ever get permission from Mr. McWhirter?” Geneva asked as she took off from a stoplight. “I don’t remember if we did or not.”
Dorothy looked over the top of her reading glasses. “I don’t recall right now. It seems like we heard something from him. Mrs. Waynewright, do you remember seeing that letter?”
Mrs. Waynewright was the secretary of the society. “No, dear. I remember you sending it, because we wrote it together, but I don’t remember getting a reply from the gentleman.”
“It doesn’t really matter,” Geneva said. “We’re within our legal rights to visit the grave since Mrs. Waynewright is a direct descendant. McWhirter can’t keep us away.”
Dorothy grimaced. “Remember that time we had to sneak into that abandoned cemetery out by Salisbury? Those terrible dogs! I’m not sure what we would’ve done if Mr. Hawkins hadn’t been with us. He took that bite like a man.”
“After that, the dogs seemed fine with us being there.” Annabelle shrugged.
“But poor Mr. Hawkins had to have rabies shots. He was such a gentleman about it.” Mrs. Waynewright sighed in appreciation.
Peggy put her head in her hand. What had she let herself in for?
Jonathon tapped her shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s usually not that bad. I’ve gone out on hundreds of these expeditions through college and with these lovely ladies. I haven’t been bitten or pitchforked yet.”
“I totally forgot about that time the old farmer pitchforked Mr. Hawkins!” Annabelle threw her hands up in the air. “That was another strange experience.”
“It sounds like you’ve had quite a few,” Peggy observed. She glanced at her mother, who seemed completely all right with the situation. Maybe she had done similar things in Charleston.
“I’ll stay close by in case someone decides to attack us while we’re looking for Zachary Miller’s grave.” Jonathon smiled at Peggy. “It should be an interesting experience.”
Peggy ignored the tales of past expeditions as the ladies talked. She focused on Jonathon, lowering her voice as she asked, “Did you find out anything about the ring?”
“Nothing more than we knew before. It’s quite old. Possibly from the time of the Civil War.”
“You mean the War Against Northern Aggression,” Mrs. Waynewright reminded him. “You are from the South, Jonathon. We do not refer to that war as the Civil War.”
He grinned at her. “You’re so right, Mrs. Waynewright. I wasn’t thinking.”
Jonathon looked back at Peggy. “As I was saying, we think the crest on the ring belonged to a specific battalion or company. We’re not sure which one, since much of that information has been lost. It was expensive, so the ring was probably given to the company commander. That would make it a one-of-a-kind artifact.”
“Any ideas on how the ring got out to the lake?” Peggy asked, even though she was pretty sure Lois had taken it out there.
“No. We—I should say the police—don’t think it was stolen. Someone had to have taken it out there, but we don’t know who did it or why.” Jonathon’s dark brown eyes revealed what he was really thinking but unable to say; he believed Lois took the ring.
“But you’re sure it’s the same ring?” Peggy pressed for more information.
“Yes. We had good pictures of it. It’s definitely the same ring.”
“Don’t you have video surveillance in the museum?”
“Not yet. But we’re working on it since this happened. It won’t happen again. Do you have some idea of who took it?”
“No,” she lied. It was for his own good, she reminded herself. He was right not to mention anything about Lois stealing the ring. He’d just gotten back into the ladies’ good graces.
Geneva put the brake down hard. “We’re here.” They all rocked back and forth in their seatbelts before they began piling out of the van. Each person had a backpack, and Mrs. Waynewright carried a small American flag that would be put on the grave to mark it once they had established it was truly Zachary Miller’s resting place.
Peggy looked at the hill they’d have to climb to reach the cow pasture where the grave was reported to be. Dorothy brought out her GPS locator and explained how they’d know when they found the grave.
“Of course that’s all new stuff,” Annabelle said. “There are plenty of other ways to find a grave.” She took out a tree branch that was stripped of its leaves. “I prefer dowsing for it. My willow wand never lets me down.”
“How does that work?” Peggy asked as she followed them up the hill.
“They say, or at least your father says, the graves fill up with water that’s retained by the clay,” Lilla explained. “Therefore, the wand is responding to the water being held underground. It’s like when Mr. Peters came to dowse for our new well when you were a girl and our old well went dry. Don’t you remember that?”
Peggy couldn’t say that she did. Being a scientist, she’d dismiss this kind of folklore out of hand. But being from the Low Country in South Carolina, she’d been raised with hoodoo and other superstitions that came true more times than her scientific mind could explain.
“Anyway, it works.” Annabelle’s voice was strained as the ladies threw themselves up the large hill. The recent rain had made the top layer of red clay muddy, leaving them all with red stains on their boots and jeans.
Jonathon caught up with Peggy and slowed his long-legged stride to match her shorter one. “I know it seems like a lot of nonsense, but sometimes folklore is accurate.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I was raised in the South. I know every superstition there is. Some of them I even believe. I wouldn’t dare disagree with any of them, for fear that would be the one that would come true.”
“Do you have some idea about the ring?” he asked. “I know you said you didn’t, but I kind of felt like maybe you did, but didn’t want to say anything.”
Peggy applauded his perception, but didn’t change her mind about telling him what she knew. “I felt the same way about you. You think Lois took it, don’t you?”
He glanced around before lowering his voice even more. “Yes, I do.”
She was thinking about the interview she’d hoped to have with Snook Holt. The interview that was dwindling away with the rest of the day while she looked for an old grave.
“I wouldn’t accuse her of that again even if she was alive. Not only was she on the board of directors for the museum, all of the remaining directors were her lifelong friends, like Mrs. Waynewright. Plus her nephew is the chief of police. I don’t want to know where an accusation like that would take me now.”
A Corpse for Yew Page 18
