Killing Weeds

by Joyce

  One of her messages was from Nightflyer. He also left her a phone number that would only be good for that day.

  She went out in the courtyard where it wasn’t so crowded and called him back.

  “You’re still in danger. Something isn’t right.”

  For once she agreed with his cryptic statement. “I know. I’ve been thinking the same thing myself.”

  “Have her exhumed.”

  “I don’t have that authority. They aren’t going to dig up Ruth because I say so. Besides, I’ve seen her death certificate. I’ve seen the hospital admissions form. Ruth is dead. It’s only the details that are probably driving both of us crazy.”

  “Do you still trust your husband?” His throaty voice made it sound as though she shouldn’t.

  “Yes.” She took in a deep breath. “He meant well. So did Al. I’m still angry, but I trust him.”

  “Then you’re a fool. And have that woman’s body dug up. Don’t be stupid, Peggy. Your first thought was correct.”

  “Do you have any proof?”

  “No. Find some! Your life still depends on it.”

  “Thank you for what you did for Paul.” She veered off subject.

  But Nightflyer was gone, as usual. The man never finished a conversation or said goodbye. She didn’t bother telling him that Steve felt the same way about trusting him. There was certainly no love lost between the two men.

  She’d known Steve for a long time and didn’t believe he meant her harm by not telling her about John’s death.

  On the other hand, she knew next to nothing about Nightflyer. She’d be more of a fool to take his words as gospel than to believe Steve.

  Still she felt edgy and uncertain. Nightflyer’s accusations hadn’t helped.

  Were they too quick to jump on William Joseph as the mastermind behind this plot? Everyone was eager to get through it—especially since Paul had been involved.

  The FBI and CMPD had looked at the information about Ruth Sargent and had agreed that William was simply a man who’d fallen for her and acted on her behalf.

  What was left?

  She didn’t want to dredge everything up again

  And yet there was a woman at the heart of this—Mary Hood—or whatever her real name was.

  How could she find out?

  Two insurance adjusters from Gromer’s Insurance visited Peggy at The Potting Shed. They were very apologetic about taking so long getting there—and about imposters being there before them.

  Peggy walked them through the front and back of the shop before handing each of them a detailed list of what had been lost and what had been damaged. It was interesting that they had the same response as William Joseph.

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t write you a check on the spot. We’ll have to make sure the alarm is working again before you reinvest your money.”

  Lucky for her that a man from the alarm service company, accompanied by the real estate rental contact for Brevard Court, showed up before the insurance men were ready to leave.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” Peggy ushered them into the bare shop. “Insurance people, meet alarm people. I’d appreciate if the two of you would work out your differences on reopening my shop.”

  She sat by the front window as the two agencies worked on their problems. The alarm company agreed to have the alarm repaired and Peggy’s shop put back online by the end of the day. The insurance adjusters agreed to write her a check—postdated—so that she could start re-stocking the shop in two days.

  “That sounds great.” She shook everyone’s hand and gratefully accepted the check.

  The real estate agent apologized for the mix up that had caused so much trouble.

  “We need The Potting Shed up and running again. We’ve gotten a lot of phone calls from people wondering what happened. Good luck, Dr. Lee. If you have any other problems, please let me know.

  When they were all gone, Peggy walked around the shop, envisioning what it would look like when it was full of merchandise again.

  The lizard in the pond popped his head out to stare at her for a moment before jumping back in the water.

  “It won’t be long now,” she told him. “There will be new fish soon.”

  She locked up the shop and went across the courtyard again to The Kozy Kettle. Business had slowed to a point that she didn’t mind asking Sofia to make her a cup of tea.

  “I’d be glad to make you tea, my friend.” Sofia smiled. “And I have something to show you.”

  Peggy checked through her inventory list again, making notes of the various supply companies she’d need to order from. One of her plans for this year had been to order a few birdbaths and birdhouses. She’d read that bird watching was becoming very popular again and hoped to get her customers interested in watching birds in Charlotte.

  Sofia came to the table with a large pink cup. “My mother always read tea leaves. I used loose tea so I could have a look at your leaves, Peggy. What do you say?”

  What could she say? “Thank you.”

  “You are very welcome.” Sofia nudged her with her elbow. “Maybe we’ll see a new romance coming your way, eh?”

  “Really, Sofia. You and Emil have to learn to accept Steve. We’re married now.” She held up her wedding band. “He’s not going anywhere, and I’m not looking for anyone else. It really hurts his feelings when you and Emil act this way with him.”

  Steve had never said anything like that to her. It just annoyed him.

  Sofia winked and apologized, insisting they only wanted what was best for her. She put the large pink cup in front of Peggy and urged her to drink the tea.

  “But not the leaves. Those we need.”

  Peggy drank the tea, letting the leaves fall to the bottom of the cup. She kept hoping her friends would accept Steve. They might be crazy, but they meant a lot to her.

  “Okay. Now what?” she asked Sofia.

  “Let me see!” Sofia quickly pulled the cup toward her. “Oh! That’s interesting. I should have known. That’s not good. I’m not sure what that means.”

  Peggy looked into the cup too. “What do you see?”

  “I see an adventure. You won’t be alone on this adventure.” Sofia looked up at her. “I see a man—close but not a lover—probably your son. I see danger. It involves water. Stay away from water.”

  “Any water?” Peggy asked.

  “Not certain. Maybe. Probably large bodies of water. Don’t take any boat trips.”

  “Okay. Not a problem.”

  “There is good in your life. More good is coming. You have to be aware of it. You don’t want it to pass you by.” Sofia smiled at her.

  “Thank you. That was lovely. I’ve never had my tea leaves read before.”

  “It was nothing. My mother always read the tea leaves. She passed on her gift to me.” Sofia took the cup and started back inside. “Don’t forget—this involves your son and water. Be very careful!”

  Wild Grape

  Wild grapevines have either male or female flowers on each plant and require cross-pollination to produce grapes. Domestic vines have both male and female flowers on each plant and are self-fruiting.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  With Sofia’s dramatic dark eyes and ominous voice behind her, Peggy gathered her things and went back across the courtyard. It felt good knowing that she was almost at the end of this hard path she’d been going down. Soon the shop would be open again, and her life would be back to normal.

  She went out the back door, locking it behind her. The real estate management company would let the alarm system techs in to repair the alarm. She’d be notified once that was complete.

  Sam pulled up in The Potting Shed truck and got out with a big grin on his face. “I think we actually made more money piecing out all the plants I’d purchased for Mary Hood. I’m in a mood to celebrate. How about you?”

  He lifted her off her feet and swung her around a few times. Peggy slapped at his hands.

  “Wh
at in the world was that for?” she asked when she was back on the ground.

  “I’m happy. Things are looking up. I think that’s enough reason to be excited, don’t you?”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She adjusted her top and pants. “The insurance company and alarm service have come and gone. I think we’re going to be back in business by later today.”

  He put out his hands toward her again. Peggy backed away.

  “Oh, come on. Things are good with work now and Tucker. Things are good with you and Steve. What more do you want?”

  A thin, petite woman came around the corner of old brick building, glancing around the parking lot as though she were lost. It was the woman from Stewart’s Furs, ill-treated assistant.

  Peggy smiled at her. “Hello. I remember you from the fur shop. Can I help you?”

  Sam stepped in front of her. “I remember you too—Mary Hood—or whatever your real name is. What do you want?”

  “What?” Peggy asked. “Sam? What are you saying? You know this woman?”

  “Yes. She had me buy all the plants and pretended to be the woman who lived in the house. She might be Paul’s client too. Call the police, Peggy.”

  “Let’s be reasonable,” Peggy insisted, staring at the other woman. “What’s your name? What can we do for you?”

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t know why I’m here, Dr. Lee. I want what I’ve always wanted, what I deserve. Revenge.” She smiled and pulled out a pistol. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  The woman had Sam smash their cell phones and throw their IDs in the trashcan near the stairs. Peggy got behind the wheel of the truck on her command.

  She felt like this was a good thing. She’d have a chance to talk to whoever this young woman was and find out what she was trying to prove. Who in the world was she anyway? Why would she want to hurt any of them?

  Peggy could tell that Sam had similar ideas in mind. She knew him well enough to guess what he was thinking. He was almost twice the woman’s size. He could have easily picked her up and kept her from hurting anyone—except for the gun.

  “You get in too, big guy.” She gestured with the weapon. “Peggy and I need some company.”

  Sam agreed, climbing into the truck after Peggy and the woman with the gun. They fit snugly together in the cab. From the mid-seat position, she could easily shoot Peggy or Sam. It was obviously strategic.

  And if this was the woman who had masterminded everything that had happened to them, it was no surprise.

  Even though Peggy wasn’t happy that Sam was with her for this, she was also thankful that she wasn’t alone. They stood a better chance against the woman with both of them there, if they had to overpower her. She was bound to make a mistake. Or perhaps one of them could talk her out of whatever she had planned.

  “Who are you?” she asked the younger woman.

  She definitely wasn’t Ruth Sargent—yet thinking about Ruth made her see a faint resemblance to her former friend that she hadn’t noticed in the fur shop. It was probably the new arrogance as she faced them.

  In the fur shop, she’d seemed demur and shy. Now, Peggy realized, she was probably just hiding her face.

  And it could explain how the idea of using the mink coat to kill her victim might have come about.

  “I’m Diane Bartlett. I think you knew my mother, Ruth Sargent. The two of you were besties for many years, until you betrayed her.” The tone and gaze were unrelenting.

  “I didn’t betray Ruth,” Peggy argued. “She betrayed herself when she killed those two people. She lost herself somewhere. It had nothing to do with me.”

  “Right.” Diane nodded. “Everyone is innocent when it comes to paying for their sins. I know what you did. Stop talking and drive.”

  “Where to?” Peggy asked. “What are you trying to prove now?”

  “I’m trying to prove that everyone deserves their revenge—even my mother. She nudged the barrel of the gun into Peggy’s side. “Drive!”

  “Ruth never married,” Peggy persisted, trying to confuse or break Diane’s stubborn ideas of revenge down. “She never had children. Who are you really?”

  “I’m only gonna explain this to you once, old lady.” Diane held the gun to Peggy’s head. “She did have a child. Me. True, she never married my father, and she gave me up for adoption. She had to forget about me because of what you put her through. But I never stopped looking for her. I finally found her after the murder trial. I visited her in prison. She and I were very close before she was killed.”

  Peggy thought about the names on the prison visiting list. Diane was probably on the list but no one would have suspected that the woman visiting Ruth was her daughter.

  “Nice and easy now,” Diane said, telling Peggy to turn out of the parking lot. “We’re headed out of Charlotte, down Independence Boulevard to Albemarle Road. Nothing funny or blondie gets a new part in his hair.”

  She smoothed her hand over Sam’s tanned arm. “And that would be a shame to waste such prime grade manhood.”

  “I had nothing to do with Ruth’s death.” Peggy persisted in keeping the conversation going as she inched out into the road. She glanced in the rearview mirror, hoping for once that a police car was following them. No such luck.

  Was there anything she could do to attract attention? She frowned, thinking of all the tales she’d heard through the years from John and Paul about reasons they had stopped drivers even though they weren’t speeding.

  Broken taillights. Partially open trunks. Erratic driving. They all came to mind, but it was too late to break a taillight. She didn’t have a trunk, and Diane would probably notice erratic driving.

  Sam was eyeing the gun. Peggy knew he was probably plotting what he could do to get control of the gun without one of them getting hurt. It wasn’t going to be easy with the weapon held at the ready in Diane’s hands. He’d never be able to get out fast enough to avoid getting shot either.

  “You had everything to do with it. She told me what you did. No one even suspected her of killing those people until you had to tell the police.”

  “Your mother was a killer too. I guess it runs in the family,” Sam said.

  “Shut up. What do you know about it? You and your brother have led such sheltered lives.”

  Sam raised his brows but didn’t enlighten her that he didn’t have a brother.

  Peggy knew right away that she thought Sam was her son too. She’d been speaking about Paul.

  Maybe he should. Maybe Diane would let him go if she knew they weren’t related.

  “He’s not my son,” she said flatly, swerving a time or two into the center lane and back to the edge of the crowded road in what she hoped was an erratic fashion.

  “Right.” Diane laughed. “He looks more like you than Paul does. Just drive. He’s coming with us.”

  “What can I do about what happened to Ruth now?” Peggy demanded. “Where are we going? What will this prove?”

  “We’re going to my mother’s house on Lake Tillery. You’ve been there a few times. You know the way. There’s something I want to show you and Sam.” Diane smiled at him. “I’m just sorry Paul isn’t here too.”

  Sam shrugged.

  Peggy knew he wouldn’t tell Diane the truth now. It probably didn’t matter anyway.

  “It’s a long way to Lake Tillery from Charlotte,” Peggy said. “Why waste your time? If you want to kill us, you might as well do it here. Your mother would never have gone along with these theatrics. I guess you’re not much like her after all, except the killing part.”

  Diane waved the gun at Peggy. “Because this is my plan, not yours. Shut up and drive. You never really knew my mother at all. Not like I knew her. Those murders she committed that you turned her in for—they weren’t the first. She laughed when we talked, thinking about how stupid you were.”

  Peggy considered that Diane was insane. She didn’t believe that Ruth had murdered other people. Her crime was one of passion. Those were very rarel
y duplicated. Diane saw what she’d wanted to see in her mother. Those ideas had made excuses for her actions.

  It was an hour-long drive from Charlotte to Ruth’s house on Lake Tillery.

  Peggy kept driving in a crisscross pattern from the middle of the road to the edge. More than once, a horn blared at her, but Diane didn’t notice. She seemed intent on their destination and what she had planned for them.

  They passed several CMPD cars before they’d left Charlotte, but they didn’t notice Peggy’s driving either, or didn’t seem to think it was strange anyway. She realized that once they left the city, it would be harder to get away or find a police officer who might question her driving.

  Peggy tried to think of a way that she could crash the truck into a light pole or a tree and manage to get out without being too badly injured or shot. It seemed impossible since she had to account for Sam too. Even if the airbags protected them from the collision, Diane was bound to shoot one or both of them.

  “I think we need gas before we get out of the city,” Sam said. “There aren’t many gas stations out there.”

  Diane peeked at the gas gauge. “Nice try, handsome, but I’m not stupid. The tank looks full to me. Want to try telling me that it doesn’t work right?”

  Sam didn’t say anything.

  Peggy counselled herself to be patient. There would be a moment that they’d get their chance—but probably not until they got to the house.

  The scenery changed dramatically from Charlotte to the Uwharrie Mountain region. Houses were further between, set on large tracts of land. The tall buildings in the city gave way to acres of fields turning green with soybeans, corn, and hay. Houses were less expensive and modern. Many were farming or mill houses built fifty years before.

  Traffic thinned out, but got slower as they followed large farm equipment down the roads and saw even more equipment in the fields that were being worked. Trees and sky were predominant and then the rivers that had been tapped for hydroelectric.

  Small towns had been emptied and flooded years before to create manmade lakes that were governed by large dams owned by the power companies. The rivers in the area had been tamed for their use, as was common in all the rural areas of North Carolina. Power had brought progress to the rural areas.