by Joyce Lavene
“Not if there were contributing factors,” Hunter explained. “I mean, technically, the crash still killed him. But if something made him crash, something someone did to him, it’s a whole other ball game.”
Peggy thanked everyone for coming and offered to take them all out for breakfast. No one had the heart to eat anything with the way they smelled. All of them agreed to a rain check on the food.
“Where are the TV cameras?” The landfill manager glanced around the empty drive as everyone was leaving and he was tucking in his clean shirt. “You promised me TV cameras.”
“They’ll be here.” Peggy walked by him quickly. “You’ll get your ten seconds of fame. Thanks for your help.”
He turned away and made a grunting sound. She wasn’t sure if he was agreeing or blowing her off. Either way, if she was right, there would be television cameras. If she was wrong, she supposed she owed the man fifty dollars.
Steve threw sheets over the car seats in the Vue. “I’m prepared this time. I’ve learned to expect the unexpected when I’m with you.”
“You’re a wise man.” She sighed heavily as she got in the car with the precious jar they’d all given up a night’s sleep for. “I hope to God I’m right.”
“Well, it’s only a theory. Anyone can make a mistake. You’ll have to look at something else if you’re wrong.”
“No, I mean I hope I’m right doing this. Sometimes all branches of science get so eager to show everyone the possibilities, to find the facts, they forget not everyone might be ready for them.”
Steve covered her hand with his. “If someone poisoned your friend, you’re right to find out. I’d want my friend to do that for me, even if it made other people’s lives uncomfortable for a while. You’re doing the last thing you’ll ever do for him, Peggy. Don’t feel bad about it.”
“Thank you. I’m not sure if Beth will feel the same way. But I appreciate the sentiment and the support.”
Steve dropped her off at her house. “I’d come in, but I have to go home and stand in the shower for an hour or two while I burn these clothes. Let me know if you find anything. I’ll be glad to go with you to the police or to talk to Beth. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”
“And I’d kiss you for offering.” She grinned. “But I don’t think we should get that close. With both of us smelling this bad, it could cause some kind of explosion that would destroy the very fabric of time.”
He laughed. “No more science fiction for you. Good night, Peggy. I’ll talk to you later.” He didn’t try to kiss her.
AN HOUR LATER, AFTER taking a long shower, Peggy threw away her ancient gray sweat suit. She walked Shakespeare after cleaning up what was left of Mai’s begonia, which he’d managed to knock on the floor. There wasn’t much, but she found one healthy stem just above a leaf node and cut it off. After dipping the end in rooting hormone, she put the cutting in some moist potting soil and said a little prayer over it as she put it into the kitchen window. It couldn’t hurt.
Peggy sat down at the kitchen table when she was finished and looked at the jar of honey in the plastic bag. It would be simple to throw it back in the garbage. Hunter, Sam, and the other kids out there at the landfill wouldn’t care what happened now that the adventure was over. Hunter might even welcome not seeing the jar again. Peggy could explain to Steve, and he’d understand.
It was only that nagging voice in the back of her head that drove her to search for the jar once she’d thought about the bee pollen found in Park’s system. It was seeing Park’s tired face at the hotel when he invited her to dinner when they got home. It was recalling when he stood beside her as they lowered John’s coffin into the ground. Sense and reason were fighting a losing battle against those powerful images in her mind.
If she was right and the honey was poisoned, the chances were the police would begin looking at Beth again as a suspect. She had opportunity. They’d argue she had motive. Peggy couldn’t offer them a better suspect. She didn’t know for sure she ever could. How much satisfaction would there be in seeing Beth behind bars for a crime Peggy knew she didn’t commit? To see her children raised by grandparents or strangers?
She roused herself from her slumped, exhausted position at the kitchen table. On the other hand, if the honey was poisoned and it was responsible for Park’s death, someone killed her friend. Or at least contributed to his death. She had a responsibility to him as well. She had to trust her instincts. Beth didn’t do this. She had to believe they would find the person who did this to Park, even if Beth had to suffer some discomfort while they searched for the truth.
Making the decision gave her the strength to put the kettle on the stove and go upstairs to get dressed. She had no classes that day, but she was due at Whiskers and Paws for Shakespeare’s first obedience class that afternoon. Plenty of time to go in and talk to Mai and spend some time at the Potting Shed.
She put on her warm cranberry-red sweater and matching wool slacks, then fussed with her hair before finally covering it with a cranberry wool cap. She drank her tea and ate some orange bread before closing Shakespeare into the laundry room. “You only have yourself to blame,” she told the whining Great Dane. “If you’ll stop vandalizing the house, I’ll let you out. Until then, you’re under restriction.”
Peggy rode her bicycle through the early morning traffic before rush hour. It was cold, frost making her face feel tight. There was light on the horizon behind the tall buildings that made up the downtown area of Charlotte as the sun began to rise. It would be another hard night for the trees and plants around the city. The heavy white frost lay thick as icing on a birthday cake as she locked her bike in the rack outside the uptown precinct.
“Can I help you?” the sergeant behind the desk asked brusquely when she walked through the door.
She glanced at the three men and one woman already waiting in the outer area. They looked back at her with vacant stares and hostile expressions. “I’d like to see Mai Sato. Is she in?”
“Not yet. Take a seat.”
Peggy sat by the side door that led to the offices in the back. John had worked here for twenty years, but everything had changed since he died. Once in a while, she met someone who’d worked with him. Mostly his friends were retired or had changed divisions.
She looked at the ficus she’d managed to save from extinction last fall. The police department didn’t have the budget to hire the Potting Shed or any other plant service to take care of the random plants at each of the precincts, according to Al. Moving the plant away from the door helped it survive in the hostile office environment, but it wouldn’t last for long without some care. She stuck her fingers in the soil. It was too dry. She’d mention it to Mai when she saw her. Someone had to water the thing once in a while, and she didn’t see that task falling to Jonas or Al.
Mai finally came in about forty-five minutes later. “Peggy! What are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story.” Peggy stood up on stiff legs from her hard wood chair. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure. I have a meeting at ten. But I’d love to talk to you until then.” Mai took Peggy back to her office that wasn’t much larger than a broom closet.
Peggy explained about her theory and her hunt through the landfill during the night as Mai made coffee.
The assistant ME’s eyes widened as she listened. “I can’t believe you did that!” She hit herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand. “What am I saying? Of course I can. Did you bring the honey with you?”
Peggy pulled it out of her book bag. She set the jar in the plastic bag on Mai’s desk. “I haven’t tested it yet. I thought it might be better if we did it here.”
Mai didn’t touch the plastic bag, just looked at it. “You know, even if we find the same pollen in this honey, we won’t be able to use it as evidence. Anything could’ve been added or tampered with other ways.”
“I understand the chain of evidence.” Peggy’s green eyes were thoughtful. “But if th
e enzymes you found in Park’s body match the enzymes in the honey he got from the hotel, it might give you something to work with that you can use as evidence.”
“This could bring forward a case against his wife.” Mai didn’t shrink from telling her the truth. “She had opportunity, since the honey was at home with him. She had motive, ten million dollars’ worth of motive. You could be opening up a big can of worms with this jar.”
Peggy sighed and looked at the jar. “I know.”
Mai put on surgical gloves. “Okay. Let’s get started.”
11
Sassafras
Botanical: Sassafras albidum
Family: N. O. Lauraceae
Sassafras was used by Native Americans for infections and gastrointestinal problems. It was one of the first exports from the New World as a beverage and medicine, the originator of the term “root beer.”
“IT’S DEFINITELY HORSE CHESTNUT honey.” Mai looked at the two samples under the microscope. “And it matches the pollen we found in Mr. Lamonte. Is there anything else you can tell me about it?”
Peggy sighed. It was a bittersweet victory for her since there was no way of knowing how it would affect Beth. “The horse chestnut tree is so poisonous, it will kill the bees that harvest the pollen for the honey. But you know how persistent bees are. They keep going, passing it on to the next workers, all the while eventually killing the hive.”
“My poison chart tells me these trees only grow in California.” Mai took off her glasses. “This honey came from Pennsylvania.”
“Your poison chart is partially correct,” Peggy agreed. “But the trees also grow in Ohio and a few other states. The horse chestnut is actually in the same family as our own native buckeye. So the honey could be harvested in a good many places. But no respectable honey grower would allow that tree near their bees.”
“I suppose the question then would be who put the poisoned honey in the jar. Was it an accident or something done on purpose?”
“We should contact this producer, Elmwood Farms, and see what they know about it. There may be other tainted jars.”
Mai nodded. “I’ll run this by the ME and see what he thinks. I hope you realize that if this is the only jar, the problem is going to fall in Mrs. Lamonte’s lap again.”
Peggy understood that possibility and hoped it was just a bad batch of honey, as tragic as that would be. “Have you heard anything about Isabelle’s autopsy?”
“Not yet. I’m sure that will be another factor.” Mai shrugged. “If her death is ruled an accident, the daughter-in-law will be less attractive for a case about the husband.”
“Thanks, Mai. Please keep me posted.”
Mai squeezed her hand. “I will. You did the right thing. I know it had to be hard for you.”
“Let’s hope for the best, shall we?” Peggy gathered her book bag and coat. She was almost out the door when she ran into Jonas.
He stepped back out of the way for her to leave Mai’s office. Then he recognized her. “Please tell me you aren’t here to help with anything.” He sneezed and blew his nose on a handkerchief.
“I told you all those bottled-up emotions would give you a cold! I’m here to visit Mai,” she maintained. “You act like I wasn’t a big help solving the Warner case. You know, you could use a forensic botanist on staff.”
He sneezed a few times, then laughed. “We don’t have a budget for anything right now, Peggy. I’m not sure what a forensic botanist does, but I’ll let you know if the position becomes available. As for the Warner case, that was dumb luck and being in the right place at the wrong time. I hope you realize you were lucky you weren’t killed.”
“I hope you realize you’d have the wrong person in jail right now if it weren’t for me,” she scolded, not caring about the interested onlookers in the hall. “And a forensic botanist can do many things for a police department, including help catch people who use poison to murder people.”
“I realize I could’ve had another dead body to add to my homicide file if you weren’t so lucky!” he said in a nasal voice, then glanced at Mai, who looked away. “And if I hear of anyone from this department helping you, he or she will face suspension. Amateurs don’t belong in this business! We’re the police, not some Girl Scout group looking to earn merit badges!
“I’m sure he or she is quaking.” Peggy moved smoothly past him. “You need to relax, Jonas. You’re not doing a bit of good for your stomach, you know. You have to watch that!”
“Look. I like you, Peggy. I really do. You’re a good person, and I know you mean well. But this isn’t the place for a good person to help out. Try the Salvation Army or the Red Cross.”
Before she could speak, Jonas slammed the door to Mai’s office with her on the outside. She could hear him questioning the girl from the hall. It wouldn’t do him any good. The deed was already done. She knew Mai wouldn’t knuckle under to him. Really, he could be such a tyrant!
Peggy unlocked her bike from the rack outside after an unproductive discussion about the state of the plants in the precinct building with the desk sergeant. Why have plants at all if no one wanted to care for them? The sergeant was unsure why the ficus was there, but he didn’t plan on watering it. He told her he’d be happy to set it out on the street, if that would make her happy. She left before she did any more damage.
Charlotte streets were picking up traffic as the brilliant blue sky beamed down on them. The smells of the city—bus diesel, coffee, garbage, and rubber from a hastily applied brake—assailed her. She was glad to finally reach the Potting Shed and shut herself inside with the aroma of potting soil and old wood. It would be wonderful to lose herself in her plants for a while and not think about death and dying. Plants were the ultimate faith in life. When she planted a small sprout and watched it grow, she knew she was adding to the chain of life.
An order of Hoop’s blue spruce and Gold Mop thread cypress arrived as soon as she got her coat off and started getting set up for what she hoped would be a busy workday. She signed the delivery sheet for the driver, then got to work moving the two-foot trees into the back storage area.
All twenty of the trees were on back order from a company in the North Carolina mountains. They were hearty, beautiful trees that would provide their owners with years of enjoyment. The blue spruce wouldn’t grow as big here as in a cooler climate, but it would still be a nice ornamental. With its milky blue needles and conelike shape, it would enhance any yard.
Sam came in about twenty minutes later, amazed to find all the trees tucked away and Peggy cleaning the shop in time for it to open. “You’ve been busy. You’re either angry or frantically thinking about something you can’t do anything about. Or both!”
She frowned. “You know me pretty well.” She stopped organizing the bulb rack. “I gave the honey sample to Mai. I was right. It was horse chestnut.”
“Wow! That could account for Park falling asleep at the wheel, right?”
“It could. Drowsiness is one of the side effects. If he’d eaten enough in a short span of time, he wouldn’t have had to drive his car off the ramp to die. It can be very toxic to humans.”
“What happens now?”
Peggy shrugged. “Mai is talking to the ME. I’m sure they’ll compare the samples again. Mine isn’t within the guidelines for the chain of evidence, so it can’t be used. It can only point them in the right direction. I don’t really know, after that.”
“Do you think other people were poisoned as well and didn’t realize it?” Sam glanced at the delivery schedule for the day.
“I’m sure the police will contact the manufacturer. We’ll see then.”
“Well, let me know. I lost a good pair of jeans to this exercise. I thought bleach would take the smell out.” He grinned. “It did. But it also shredded my new white jeans.”
“I’m sorry, Sam.” She hid a smile and touched his hand. “I’ll be glad to get you a new pair.”
“Thanks, but I’ll manage. Next time I’ll just r
oll around in some manure and save myself the cost of a bottle of bleach. No one will notice the difference.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’m off to work in Madelyn Montgomery’s yard. Those Gold Mop thread cyprus are going to look great. Anything you need before I go?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks. Say hello to her for me. Be careful you plant those cypress trees deep enough. You don’t want their roots to come out looking for water over the summer.”
He laughed and ruffled her hair. “Yeah. Because I’ve only planted a million of them in the last two years. See you later. I’ll keep in touch.”
Peggy was ready for customers. But they didn’t seem to be eager to rush out into the cold morning. She finally caught up with everything on her list and couldn’t find anything else to do. She ran across the way to get some tea from Emil and Sofia, who quizzed her about Park and Isabelle’s deaths. She pushed off the interrogation by telling them she had to hurry back to the shop. But when she got back, the shop was still empty.
She missed Shakespeare’s presence and hoped he’d be able to come to the Potting Shed with her again soon. Selena wouldn’t be in until lunchtime that day. Keeley was helping Sam with the Montgomery yard. With no customers, the shop was too quiet and too empty. Usually she liked it that way, but this morning her mind was too preoccupied with everything else to appreciate it as a haven. She sat down to peer through her gardening catalogs, but her heart wasn’t in that either.
Instead, she found herself logging on the computer to look up Elmwood Farms on the Internet. It was possible other cases of poisoning had been reported. If a large batch of honey was bad, hundreds of people could be affected.
She had just put in the name when an instant message popped up for her from Nightflyer.
“good morning, nightrose. found your culprit yet?”
“if you mean the poisoned honey, yes.”
“i was thinking more of who gave your friend the honey.”
