by Joyce Lavene
“True,” she considered. “Unless we find a DNA link between the seeds and match them to another we find somewhere else.”
“Possibly. Anything else you’d like to add?”
She was a little miffed that finding the cottonseed link wasn’t enough for him. But she was even more disappointed when they took it to Jonas. He didn’t act like her discovery was anything to go on. Everyone thanked her and told her to turn her time sheet in for her work.
“If they weren’t going to use my findings, why bother?” Peggy asked Mai as the girl showed her how to fill out her expense sheet. It was almost eight, and she was exhausted.
“You did what they wanted you to do,” Mai explained. “They weren’t looking for a new theory. They wanted you to substantiate their old one. The anonymous donor got the bottom of the plant from Dr. Appleby’s experimental garden at UNCC.
“Of course! So I gave them what they needed to charge Darmus with Luther’s murder.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“But he’s innocent, Mai.”
“Maybe. But he looks guilty. Especially now that they think he grew the flower and have proof he knew how to use the poisonous scent.”
It made Peggy too angry to speak. She left the lab, vowing to herself that she would never return, and drove home in a terrible frame of mind.
She walked into her quiet kitchen and sat down. It was spotless, much cleaner than she ever left it. She knew Aunt Mayfield and Cousin Melvin didn’t leave it that way. It had to be her mother. Peggy cringed as she imagined what her mother probably found behind the flour canister or on top of the refrigerator.
“Steve went home a little while ago. Said he had an early morning.” Her father pulled up a chair opposite her. “Would you like something to eat? I think there’s some salad left from supper.”
“No thanks, Dad.”
“How did things go?”
Peggy told him what she’d discovered and that the police didn’t care. “I guess I shouldn’t have gone. They would’ve had to wait for the state forensic botanist to confirm what they found. Or if I wouldn’t have opened my mouth in the first place, they still wouldn’t know about the hyacinth, since I’m the one who told them about that, too. Some friend.”
“I’m sure Darmus wouldn’t blame you for using what you know to help solve the crime. If he’s innocent, Margaret Anne, he’ll want to know what happened to his brother just like you wanted to know how John was killed. It’s human nature to be curious and want answers.”
“Maybe so.” She slumped down in her chair and stared at the ceiling.
“You’re tired. You should go to bed.”
“I should. I just can’t get up enough energy to go upstairs.”
“I’d offer to carry you like I used to.” He chuckled. “But you’re a mite big, and I’m a mite old and puny.”
She looked at him in the dim light from above the sink. In her mind’s eye, he would always be the daddy who showed her how to ride a pony and let her jump into the hay before it was baled. But he looked tired and old now, worn out by the hard, physical life he’d always led. Though she knew he was in good health, a tingle of fear slid up her spine at the thought of living without him.
“I have to go to bed.” She got slowly to her feet. “I have the garden club tomorrow, and then I have to go to the Potting Shed. It was bad enough I left Selena, Keeley, and Sam alone with it all day.” She slid her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “I love you, Daddy.”
He patted her arm and smiled. “I love you, too, sweet pea. Go on upstairs now and get some rest. I’m reading this new mystery I found on your shelf. It’s good. This fella, Daniel Bailey, knows what he’s talking about.”
“He should. He’s the chief deputy for Mecklenburg County. He’s been a sheriff for more than thirty years.”
“Well, nobody’s perfect,” her father joked, reminding her of his ongoing feud with the sheriff ’s department in Charleston County over a fence he put up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You try to get some sleep, too, Daddy.”
“You know I always grab a few hours. Don’t fret, Margaret Anne.”
PEGGY WAS GLAD she rode her bike the next morning. She loved Charlotte on days like this when light wisps of fog and mist clung to the trees, obscuring the tall buildings uptown, and steeples reached up into the pale blue sky, fingering the clouds.
It would be hot later, but the morning was still cool as she passed Providence Hardware and waved to Mr. Patterson, who was out for his morning jog. Dr. Yin, a prominent neurosurgeon at Mecklenburg Neurology, was out picking up trash along the road with his stick device. Sweat glistened on his bald pate as he mumbled to himself.
Charlotte had changed drastically since John Lee brought her there as his bride thirty years ago. The cloistered, narrow feeling from too many generations living and dying without enough outside interference was gone. People had moved in from all over the world. They brought their problems with them. But they also brought new life to the city.
Being raised in Charleston, a port town, Peggy found Charlotte stifling to begin with. She was used to the banter of many languages and the jumble of different customs that surrounded the old coastal city. Charlotte had strict traditions but nothing to soften them.
That changed as time went on, and Peggy was glad for it. John said it created difficulties for the police department. She knew having students from different countries who spoke different languages created problems for the college. But those new students helped them become an accredited university. Peggy was proud of her work there. But she might be ready to try something new.
She went inside the shop through the back door, determined not to let the previous little incident with Holles in the alley make her afraid, though she kept a careful eye out as she went up the stairs. She put her backpack down on the counter. The creaky wood floors and the whoosh of the air-conditioning were soothing. She looked at John’s dear, smiling face in the picture by the front door and smoothed a finger across it. “I miss you,” she whispered as she kissed him.
She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes as she put the picture back in its place. “Enough of that, Margaret Anne! Let’s get to work!”
She walked past the fifty-and hundred-pound bags of potting soil and fertilizer that were stored in the back of the Potting Shed. Automatically, she noticed they were running low on peat moss and pine bark. But before she could take out a pen to write it down, she saw a note from Sam telling her about it. She smiled. What would she do without him?
She lost track of time stocking the shelves and straightening things up. She always did. The potted roses by the front door needed watering, and the dwarf azaleas needed looking after. There was new stock to order and receipts to total.
Of course, she couldn’t help but consider Darmus’s plight at the same time. The police blamed him for his brother’s death. She still felt that was a mistake. Darmus loved Luther. He’d never kill him. Not for Feed America or anything else. Not even if he was half out of his mind.
She could understand the DA wanting to arrest him to get something going on the case. But what would they say the motive was? Luther knew Darmus was alive, but so did other people, like Holles. Luther would have access to the money they were concerned about, but so would Holles, since he’d taken over from Luther. It wasn’t like Darmus could come out in the open and take his place again.
Yet only someone who knew Luther well would know about his serious asthma problem. That was one thing about using any fatal poison. It was important for the killer to know his or her victim. Not every poison would work on every person. But it would also take some botanical research to know asthma could be fatally triggered by a hyacinth. Furthermore, Luther always carried an inhaler in his pocket, so using hyacinth was something of a gamble.
Peggy believed Holles was the most likely suspect at the moment. He knew about the money and where Darmus was. He probably knew about Luther’s asthma. And he
certainly hadn’t wanted her to reveal that Darmus was alive.
Peggy left to talk to her weekly garden club as soon as Selena arrived. The garden club met at the Kozy Kettle, where Emil and Sofia sold them coffee, tea, and pastries as they talked.
“This morning’s subject is planting a tree.” She addressed the usual crowd of twelve women who attended the meeting almost every week. One of the husbands, Marvin Whitley, sat beside his wife with an expression on his face that could only be called complete agony.
Peggy took out her clear bucket and put it on the table. “The first thing you should do is consider your yard. A tree needs room to grow. Think about the height it will eventually reach. For instance, a dogwood won’t get as tall as an oak. Make sure you aren’t setting yourself up to cut down your tree when it matures.”
“How close can I plant a tree to my house?” Jane Matthews asked.
“Give the roots enough room to grow without them invading your basement,” Peggy answered. “At least ten feet, depending on the tree. I brought a weeping peach tree with me this morning.”
There were murmurs of how cute the tiny tree was with its cascading branches and delicate pink flowers.
“Dig a hole at least double the size of your root.” Peggy used her spade in the bucket to make a place for her sapling. “Take the tree carefully out of the container or sack it comes in. Then place it in the hole you dug and cover it with dirt. Be sure to pack the dirt down well around it.”
“What about fertilizer?” one of the women asked.
“I recommend fertilizer spikes.” Peggy held up a package of fertilizer. “Pound a few into the ground around the roots. You’ll have to read the directions to know what’s right for your tree.”
This was followed by a flurry of questions about trees in general. Emil brought Peggy some peach tea while she talked. She smiled at him and answered the next question.
Janice Whitley could hardly wait for the meeting to be over. She rushed up, leaving her husband behind. “Peggy, you won’t believe what I just heard! They’re opening up a Smith & Hawken store across the street in the Atrium!”
“Who told you?” Smith & Hawken was an expensive garden shop that supplied choice garden products to an upscale market. They didn’t have plants or landscaping capabilities, but they could wipe out her garden furniture and paraphernalia sales. Peggy didn’t like the sound of that.
“David Friese from the Bookmark over in Founders Hall. He said he heard it today.”
“Competition?” Marvin asked, hearing the first thing he could understand that morning.
“Not directly,” Peggy replied. “But it would affect us.”
Five of the women from the meeting, all dressed in business suits and heels, followed Peggy to the Potting Shed, each looking for something different. She was able to set up a very nice deal with one of the shoppers for an expensive patio set. The three-piece wood and canvas set would be delivered the following week. Take that, Smith & Hawken, she thought as she rang up the sale.
But she knew the elite garden store would make a dent in future sales of that kind. They were a little pricier, but they were bound to have a bigger shop with room to display more products.
A large, spike-haired black man in an expensive gray suit came into the shop as the last customer left. He glanced around at the tomato seedlings in the large, wide-paned windows that faced the courtyard and touched a birdhouse that looked like a pirate ship. Then he planted his feet on the floor, looking like a pirate balanced on the deck of his rolling ship. “Which one of you is Dr. Peggy Lee?”
Selena stepped from behind the counter and placed herself protectively in front of Peggy. “Who wants to know?”
“Erasmus Smith. I’m Darmus Appleby’s attorney. Are you Dr. Lee?”
Peggy pushed up out of the rocker. “Of course not. I’m Peggy Lee.” She stepped forward and held out her hand to him. “I hope you’ve tried a murder case before.”
Erasmus’s broad face and slanted eyes showed no surprise. He obviously knew about the new charges. “I hope so, too. If not, your friend is in trouble. Fortunately, I’ve tried many cases like this one.”
“How were they like this?”
“My client is innocent. I’m sure you know that, Dr. Lee.”
“I believe that’s true,” she agreed. “The question is, who killed Luther if Darmus didn’t?”
The attorney flicked an imaginary dust mote from his flawless suit sleeve. “That is not my concern. The question for me is how to prove my client is innocent. Or at least how to make him look innocent.”
“I think we’re basically talking about the same thing, Mr. Smith. What can I do to help you?”
He glanced around the room again, then focused on Selena and Peggy’s father, who was there to help for the day. “Not here.” He handed her a business card. “My office. Three this afternoon.”
Peggy nodded. “I’ll be there.”
When he was gone, after one last derisive look at the Potting Shed, Peggy glanced at the business card. “I can’t believe Darmus trusts that man with his life.”
“He seemed fine to me,” her father remarked. “A little sneaky and shiftless just like a lawyer should be.”
Selena laughed. “You’re right about that! Wonder where Darmus met him.”
“Sometimes you have to make do,” Peggy said. “Darmus may not have had much choice.” Erasmus Smith’s business card was from Feed America. Apparently the group was still interested in what happened to Darmus. “I’m going to go over there and find out what’s going on.”
Paul called her a few minutes later, while she was handling a delivery of sundials. “Darmus made bail. I didn’t know if you heard. Feed America raised the money for him.”
Her brows knitted as she signed the delivery receipt. “All of this mayhem hasn’t slowed the group down, has it? With Darmus out of action and Luther dead, Holles just keeps going and going.”
“Gotta go. Just thought you’d want to know what happened.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
Peggy tapped the phone absently on her chin as she considered the possibilities.
“Problems?” the delivery driver asked.
“No more than usual.” She focused on him. “How are you doing, Fred? How’s Thelma?”
“I’m okay. Been having a few problems with my back, but otherwise things are good.”
“I’m glad. How are Thelma’s allergies this year?”
“Better! That trick you told me about eating local honey seems to have worked for her. She’s not even taking her prescription this year.”
“That’s great!” Peggy patted his hand. “The chances are everything we need to stay well is out there. We just have to know about it.”
“Yeah. Who’d have thought about honey helping allergies?”
Peggy agreed as he climbed back in his truck and got ready to pull out. She’d only heard recently about honey made within twenty-five miles of a person’s home being able to help allergies. It had something to do with the enzymes in the honey acting like a vaccination against the pollen from local flowers. The program had to be started in the winter to give the enzymes time to build up, but if Thelma’s results were good, it could help many allergy sufferers.
Her mind turned to the problem with Darmus as she walked back into the shop. She wished there were an enzyme that could solve it as easily as the allergies were handled. Darmus didn’t kill Luther. She was certain of that. But someone was trying to make it look like he did. Someone planted that information about hyacinths in his office. It wouldn’t make sense for him to have it printed up all nice and tidy for them to find, not that he’d need it anyway.
“I don’t like that look, Margaret,” her father said when he saw her. “You’re plotting mischief.”
Peggy recalled her grandmother saying that when she was a child. “Maybe. And I could use a partner. Are you in?”
He grinned. “As long as I don’t have to go to the mall,
I’m in!”
12
Forget-me-not
Botanical: Myosotis sylvatica
Family: Boraginaceae
Legend tells us that the first forget-me-not was given to a lady by her knight, who was tragically killed. Since then, it has been the flower of lovers, worn as a sign of faithfulness and romance.
PEGGY AND HER FATHER DROVE over to UNCC, the Charlotte campus of the University of North Carolina. Compared to Queens, it was a sprawling giant that sat neatly in a small corner of Charlotte. The large, modern buildings made the campus look more like a hospital complex than an educational facility. Created in 1946, it had none of the historic charm of its sister in Chapel Hill, but Peggy knew it was a good school. Paul graduated from there. Sam went there, too.
