by Joyce
The street parking area outside Brevard Court had an empty spot. Peggy pulled into it, usually leaving those spaces for customers. She just didn’t feel up to walking through the deserted Potting Shed again that day. She hoped the next time she went inside, it would be to begin restocking.
Emil and Sofia had always held her weekly plant workshops at The Kozy Kettle. It was a good way to bring in new customers for them and gave Peggy someplace nice to invite her group.
The Balduccis always baked extra pastries for the night and brewed special teas. Peggy was happy to share her audience. There wasn’t enough room at The Potting Shed to have chairs and tables for her workshops without holding them in the back storage area—not exactly the atmosphere she was looking for.
She was grateful that she’d already planned this week’s meeting. If she’d started to think much about what she was doing, she either would have had to call it off or start crying.
“Oh. This is where you hold your meetings?” Lilla asked as they locked the car doors and went through the wrought-iron gate that was the entrance to the courtyard. “It’s very—quaint.”
“They have wonderful pastries, Mom. You should try one.”
Her mother patted her flat stomach. “I’m not one of those women who let themselves go to rack and ruin because they’re older, Margaret. I would’ve expected that you had noticed that by now.”
Peggy’s talk that night was about planting rhizomes. Several of her group had asked her to do a workshop on the topic. Because she’d put some rhizome root stocks aside for this program, she still had her examples to show her usual group of about twenty-five gardeners. Some of them still came every week since she’d first begun.
After a chorus of people asking if she was okay, Peggy introduced her mother and then began her program.
“A rhizome is only a nice Greek name for a mass of roots that are growing underground. These roots send out shoots from their nodes to create other plants. Some of these we hate—such as Chinese privet and in some cases, bamboo. Others we love, like irises, lily of the valley, and cannas.”
She took out her examples. “These are rhizomes from a ginger plant and an asparagus plant. Most of the time, these are good plants that we like to see grow well. And these are the two plants we’re going to put into pots tonight.”
Her listeners took out notebooks, pens, and cameras, poised on the edges of their seats to observe her.
“Peggy,” Cynthia Chappelle asked. “Isn’t a potato grown from a rhizome too?”
“That’s true.” Peggy continued taking out her pots and soil. “A potato is said to grow as a tuber which is the thickened part of a rhizome or a modified stolon.”
“For the most part, you’ll be planting rhizomes outside,” Peggy explained. “Make sure your beds have a nice sunny location. The best time to plant is probably around July or August. Be sure to dig down about two feet and allow three feet around, taking out the clay—and what I think of as junk soil—and replacing it with good quality black dirt that’s loose and free of debris.”
Peggy filled her pots with loose black dirt and took her rhizomes out of plastic bags.
“Make a shallow hole in the soil about twice the size of the rhizome. Take another handful of soil in the center on the bottom. Put the rhizome on top of the mount and drape the roots down the sides.”
She held the pots so that her audience could see what she’d done.
“Next press down very gently on the rhizome to make sure it has contact with the soil. If there are any air pockets between the plant and the dirt, water will collect in that space and cause the rhizome to rot. Once you’re sure about the placement, fill the hole with dirt. The top of the rhizome should be slightly above the surface. It’s better for it to be too high than too deep.”
“What about cold weather?” Sandy Duckworth asked.
“You should cover your rhizome plants like you do any others, with straw or other mulch—not with grass clippings because they become compacted and can also cause rot. If you want to use grass, be sure to use it lightly and change it often.”
“How long does it take the plant to grow from the rhizome?” Sheila Donahue asked.
“About two to four weeks,” Peggy replied.
Everyone fluttered around the planted rhizomes, ordered more coffee and tea, and took plenty of pictures. Emil smiled and held up his thumb meaning they’d had a good night.
“Peggy, I’m Janis Ryan from the Charlotte Observer. I was wondering if you could comment on the use of poisonous plants—specifically giant hogweed—that we’ve heard so much about this week.”
“Of course, Janis.” Peggy gritted her teeth at the question, but she answered calmly. “Giant hogweed is native to Asia. It was introduced to Britain in the nineteenth century because the flowers are huge and resemble Queen Anne’s lace. It spread to the U.S. and Canada but has mostly remained in uninhabited areas. It is related to the cow parsnip, which has led to many sightings that aren’t hogweed. It can disrupt native plants and animals because of its toxicity.”
“But how does it kill people?” Janis continued with her phone held away from her, recording Peggy’s answers.
“It contains linear derivatives of furocoumarin in every part of the plant. These chemicals form a bond with DNA causing burns and cell damage. They can cause blindness with even small amounts of sap. And of course, as you pointed out, used in ways none of us would use them, the sap can cause severe burning that can lead to shock and death.”
Sarah Feinstein was closest to the table. “Wow. I hope we don’t have any of those around here.”
Peggy was done talking about hogweed. She didn’t want to see herself quoted in the paper tomorrow when people should be thinking about who had done this, not reading her words and realizing she could have helped Paul do it.
“That’s it for tonight. Next week we’ll be talking about how to keep your hydrangea the color you planted it. Have a wonderful week.”
Peggy could see Janis fighting through the crowd to reach her and ask more questions. She tried to get her things together so she could leave before the reporter reached her. She wasn’t fast enough, but at the last minute, her mother placed herself squarely between the reporter and her daughter.
“I just have a few more questions,” Janis said.
“My daughter is finished answering questions for tonight. Thank you for coming.”
Janis tried to push past Lilla. She didn’t budge.
“Dr. Lee,” Janis said. “Only one more question about your son’s arrest.”
Peggy opened her mouth to speak, but her mother beat her to it.
“Are you serious, young woman?” Lilla demanded. “Do you really think my daughter wants to talk about her only child being arrested for murder? I wouldn’t want a daughter of mine rudely asking questions of people in pain that she didn’t know. Take what you have and be grateful for it. Don’t make me call the police. We have deep ties in that community, you know.”
Plum Tree
Plums have been domesticated for more than 2,000 years. They are still prized for their beauty and versatility, with many different varieties available. Plum trees can be grown from pits but are more successfully grown from cuttings of the tree.
Chapter Twenty-two
Janis Ryan sighed. She knew she’d been beaten by the small but imperious woman standing between her and her interview subject.
“Thanks anyway, Dr. Lee.” The reporter walked away with a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Thanks, Mom.” Peggy was surprised. “When did you become part tiger?”
“I grow fangs and claws whenever anyone in my family needs me.” She picked up Peggy’s handbag. “I can take this if you need to bring those plants with you.”
“You could leave them here with us until you reopen The Potting Shed,” Sofia said. “Think of it as a promise for the future between me and you.”
“Thanks. I don’t think it will be much longer.”
&nbs
p; Emil brought out a huge to-go bag out from behind the counter with him. “We baked extra today for you, Peggy. Take it home. Enjoy it.”
Sofia poked her lightly in the ribs. “You’re getting too thin, just like my cousin Marty.”
Emil crossed himself. “God forbid.”
Peggy rolled her eyes as she knew a story was coming.
“Marty stopped eating when his lady friend dumped him. We told him no woman would be interested in a garbage man. The smell alone is too much. His lady moved on to a banker. Always smelled good and well dressed.”
“Marty stopped eating. He thought the problem was that he was fat. We tried to tell him.” Emil shrugged and glanced at his wife.
“A year later. Marty weighs ninety-two pounds. You can see every bone in his body. Are the girls interested in him? No. He still smells like garbage.”
Before Peggy could stop her mother, Lilla asked, “What happened to him?”
Emil clapped his hands together. “He broke his leg on the garbage truck and had to go to the hospital. He gained some weight back and married a nurse who got him off the garbage truck and into her father’s antique store.”
“I guess that was a good choice,” Lilla said.
“Thanks for everything.” Peggy smiled at them. “I’ll see you soon.”
The two women left the shop with Sofia and Emil waving and calling out goodnight from the open doorway.
“You’re lucky,” Peggy said. “It could’ve been a lot worse. The last time I asked what happened to one of their unfortunate relatives, the woman had been dragged through the street and beheaded.”
Lilla put her hand to her throat. “Really? In this day and age?”
Peggy got in on the driver’s side. “Who knows? Let’s go.”
They drove home with Lilla asking Peggy more questions about giant hogweed. Peggy hoped she didn’t go home and dream about the stuff. Steve’s SUV was in the drive at the house. She hoped he had good news.
Her cell phone buzzed before she could get out of the car. It was Nightflyer with a brief text. “BIG CHANGE IN YOUR SITUATION COMING SOON. WATCH YOUR BACK. IT MAY NOT BE WHAT IT SEEMS.”
“Was that your father? I’m not sure how he thought he was going to get home after he drove Mai back in her car.”
Peggy closed her text account. “The car is here. Maybe he thought you’d come get him.”
Lilla snorted. “He should’ve mentioned that before he volunteered his services.”
Steve was waiting inside. He and Peggy hugged before he gave her the news.
“Forensics found some DNA evidence in Nita Honohan’s bedroom. It was Paul’s.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Lilla said. “I’m going to pour myself a bourbon so your father won’t think I can drive him home. Goodnight, Steve.”
After she’d gone up the spiral stairs, Peggy and Steve sat in the kitchen, holding hands and staring at each other.
“What’s his bail?” she asked.
“He hasn’t had a bond hearing yet. He’s going to have to spend the night in jail. There’s nothing we can do about that.”
“All the years the city has taken from him and John, you’d think they could speed up a bond hearing for him. He’s not safe in the county lock-up.”
“He’s got a lot of friends with the CMPD. So does Al. Someone will look after him.”
“I wish I could go and sit with him tonight.” She sighed and put her head in her hands.
“I wish we both could. But there’s nothing more we can do tonight to help him. Let’s turn in. Everything looks better in the daylight.”
“What about Dad? I better go get him. I think Mom is serious about not going back out.”
“I’ll go. Let’s call him first and make sure he hasn’t made other plans.”
Peggy took out her cell phone. Steve had been right about making other plans. Ranson wasn’t coming back that night. He was staying with Mai and Rosie. Mai’s parents were out of town, and she’d be alone.
“Thanks, Dad.” Peggy smiled. “Steve says everything will be better in the morning.”
Ranson chuckled. “If he’s right, we need to get him a new job. He’d make a lot more money predicting who’s going to win the next NASCAR race than he does working for the government.”
“You’re right. See you in the morning.”
“All right, honey. You make sure you tell your mother that I’m spending the night with a lovely young woman. She’ll be worried.”
“I’m so sure. Goodnight, Dad.”
Peggy made sure the alarm was set on the house. She was amazed that she hadn’t heard from John’s uncle, Dalton Lee. Usually if anything happened that regarded the house, he was right on top of it.
Dalton took care of the house trust. That meant that he was responsible for anything that needed to be repaired or replaced. He’d tried his best to nudge Peggy out of the house, but since John’s cousin, the rightful heir, wasn’t interested in the house yet, there wasn’t much Dalton could do about it.
Peggy wanted to finish her life in this house. She hoped John’s cousin could wait that long to decide that he was ready to settle down.
She cringed as she walked into the main hall downstairs. She’d have to walk past her dying spruce. As she got closer to the spot, she realized that the tree was gone. The huge container that had held it was empty.
She looked at Steve. “Did you do this?”
He put his arms around her. “Sam and I did it together. There was no point in you watching it die. You can get a new blue spruce and plant it here. Then you can watch it grow.”
At first, she was offended that it was gone. Her heart was sick with it. But she realized Steve was right. Continuing to watch it die wouldn’t make it any better.
“Thanks.” Her voice was thick with tears. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“You know,” he said before they started upstairs. “We don’t have to stay here, in this house.”
“I know.” She wiped away her tears. “But I can’t think about leaving, at least not right now.”
“I understand.”
But later that night when Peggy tossed restlessly in bed, she wondered if he did understand, or if she should even ask him to. She’d shared this house with John, and it remained in his family. Maybe she and Steve should buy a house together, and she should finally give Dalton what he wanted.
For years she’d told herself she had to stay here to make sure the house had someone in it. Houses without people were sad and fell apart. She didn’t want that to happen to the wonderful old house that had been her home for more than three decades.
But she knew Dalton would hire a caretaker to live here until John’s cousin was ready. Maybe he’d never be ready. He hadn’t seemed excited about inheriting the estate. She wished it could pass to Paul, but that would never happen. Dalton had made that clear.
Where would she ever find a place like this? It wasn’t just the size of the basement where she worked or the extensive grounds that she and John had reveled in upgrading and planting. It was the love with which the house was built and the love she and John had poured into it. It was the place she’d raised her son, and grown up in herself.
It was a big part of her life.
But how did that make Steve feel? He didn’t have any input into the house. It would never really feel like his home. How could she do that to him? He’d embraced her crazy family and her crazier lifestyle without a single question. Was it fair to keep him from owning a home too?
Peggy had no answers to the riddle. But tortured and sleepless, she wandered downstairs to the library with Shakespeare.
The old house creaked and groaned in the spring storm that had come up. Rain bounced off the new roof that had been replaced last year. She started a small fire in the hearth to ward off the chill. For once, she didn’t want to spend time with her plants in the basement. All she could think about was her son sleeping in a jail cell.
If it wouldn’
t have been for her obsession with poisonous botanicals, it would’ve been harder for the DA to make a case against Paul. Using a coat full of poison gel derived from obscure plants as a murder weapon wouldn’t have been something that would occur to many people. But everyone in Charlotte knew it was her cup of tea.
She huddled in a chair near the fire with a blanket thrown around her and her dog at her feet. What was she missing in trying to find the real killer? She was usually good at this kind of thing. In this most important of cases, it felt like her brain had turned to pudding.
She thought about all the facts again and her mind kept coming back to the same conclusion—Ruth Sargent. This had to be something involving her old friend. She was missing exactly what it was—they all were. If it wasn’t Ruth, it had to be someone she’d spoken to about Peggy and her family. Someone Ruth trusted had decided to exact revenge for her imprisonment.
Peggy got up and switched on the desk lamp before taking out a piece of paper and a pen. She doodled everything she was thinking on the paper, even considering asking if Ruth’s body could be exhumed to be certain that she was dead.
But maybe the important thing was to check the prison records, find out who visited her and if she received any mail. If there had been someone who’d befriended Ruth, that person might be the one who took up the sword on her behalf.
The pen that had been on the desk stopped writing. She rummaged through the drawer, looking for another one. With thoughts of what she could do next, she came across an old cell phone.
Maybe not old, she realized, though not one of their phones that they used every day. This was a burner phone, as Al, Steve, and Paul called them. A cheap phone with pre-paid minutes.
She examined it curiously and found pictures on it with one call made to Al’s number.
Last year, Paul had managed to find missing documents that had been taken from his father’s police file. It had been his motive for becoming a private detective. The pictures on the phone were of the documents that had been stored here in the library but had gone missing with no explanation.
Paul had kept copies of the documents but the question had remained—who’d taken them from her house?
