by Joyce
Buttercup – Ranunculaciae - Known for their bright gold flowers that dot meadows and roadsides. All parts of the plant are poisonous to humans and pets. Toxic element is Protoanemonin. Can cause blistering to skin (external), vomiting and diarrhea (internal). May be fatal.
Time hadn’t changed her friend’s cryptic nature. Nightflyer—that was the only name she knew him by—was always worried that someone would intercept his emails. He only wrote what he had to and then, in such a way that she had to guess what he was talking about.
One thing was for sure. He knew about the murders. Not surprising since he seemed to keep up with that kind of thing. He’d warned her before about events that had affected her. He’d always been right.
That meant there was another murder to come, unless Al stopped the killer. She thought about her long-time friend as she dressed in tan wool slacks and an autumn-hued tan and brown sweater.
The colors were good for her white-streaked red hair. Fall was all around her. Why not dress the part? She closely examined the fine lines beside her eyes and mouth, ignoring the scattering of freckles she’d always hated. Finally she put on some sun block and smiled at her refection. “You’ll have to do. I don’t have anymore time to primp.”
Her partner, Sam, hadn’t been happy about opening The Potting Shed that day. “I have a big order of mulch coming in. With Keeley gone and you out doing whatever you think is more important, that leaves Selena handling customers by herself while I unload the truck.”
“I know it’s difficult, but it’s for a good reason. I’ll be there by lunch,” she’d assured him.
“That’s fine. If you don’t make money, I don’t make money. I’m sure we won’t miss a few customers Selena can’t get to.”
He’d certainly been in a bad mood. Her excitement over helping the police again was dampened by his attitude. She’d wanted to tell him about the murder case—and that the money she made from it would go to The Potting Shed. She was uncertain if she should mention it. It was possible it wouldn’t work out.
“I’m sorry about this, Sam. Once I get there, you can take off for the day.”
“I’m sorry too, Peggy.” His voice cracked. “Hunter and I had a big fight last night.”
Hunter was Sam’s sister. She was also a fledgling attorney who was struggling to make a living.
“Anything I can help with?”
“Not really. She’s in the same boat we are. Without joining a big firm, it’s all she can do to pay the bills. She went out and tried to buy a new car. They wouldn’t let her have it and she wanted me to co-sign. I wouldn’t do it.”
“I’d be happy to co-sign for her, Sam.”
“See, that’s the whole deal. She can’t keep falling back on everyone else.”
Peggy could tell this wasn’t a good time to talk about it. “We’ll talk when I get there. I promise not to take any longer than I have to.”
Sam said that was fine and hung up.
With a sigh, Peggy sat back down at her computer and looked at Nightflyer’s email again. She knew it wouldn’t do any good to respond. He only used an email once and then changed it. She wasn’t completely convinced that he wasn’t making his problems sound worse than they were. What was he, after all, a spy or something?
She went down to the basement to check on her experiments after she let Shakespeare outside in the backyard for a while. She put on an apron to cover her clothes and slid on a pair of gloves.
Everything was progressing nicely. She was part of a group experiment with other botanists across the country. It involved independent studies of a new form of wheat that grew faster and used fewer resources. If the plants were successful, which they seemed to be, the wheat could be grown in smaller, drier fields in countries where people were desperate for it.
Another experiment was more for fun than to accomplish anything important. Peggy had received plants from a friend of hers at the University of South Carolina. They were a combination of every berry known. The fruit was delicious and very healthy. They were about the size of strawberries, but dark blue like blueberries, with large clusters like raspberries.
She ate one as she watched Shakespeare playing in the garden. He enjoyed chasing the falling leaves and scaring the squirrels.
Peggy couldn’t stop thinking about the dead man in the park this morning. Why did people do such terrible things to others? It was something she’d never understand.
Obviously, the perpetrator was mentally ill. It was bad enough to use plant poisons to kill people. Doing it in alphabetical order was diabolical.
She wondered where the first murder had taken place. The park across the street was a very public spot. Mothers took their babies through it everyday and runners took advantage of its paths. What if one of them had found the body first?
If identifying plants and poisons would help bring this person to justice, she wanted to help. She let Shakespeare back in, grabbed her pocketbook, and made sure the door was locked and the alarm was set.
Shakespeare was barking again. She hated the idea, but she might have to muzzle him. Mr. Bellows was cranky—she didn’t want her dog to be annoying. She hoped it would be better when Steve got back. Maybe Shakespeare missed him.
Peggy got on her bike and started pedaling down Queen’s Road toward the police station in uptown Charlotte. Traffic was heavy now and drivers weren’t particularly courteous. Horns blared at her and some people even made rude remarks from their car windows.
Honestly, weren’t people ever going to get used to sharing the road?
After the adventure getting to the police station, Peggy locked her bike into the stall for it. Right next to her bicycle and several others, was an azalea bush that was still blooming, despite the colder temperatures.
The pink flowers added a bright spot of color. No one else seemed to notice as they came and went. Peggy stroked the shiny leaves on the bush and marveled at the plant’s ability to survive there.
“You know, it’s going to be cold soon. This is a nice display, but you’d better get ready for winter. You’re supposed to bloom in spring!” A slight breeze rustled through the trees and the leafy, green bush, making the flowers appear to agree with her.
The idea pleased her and she went toward the station with a smile on her face.
There were dozens of police officers and civilians walking in and out of the front door. Peggy had started up the stairs when she heard someone call her name—not her birth name, but one she’d known for most of her life.
“Mom!”
It was Paul, looking handsome and fit in his police uniform. He wore his penny-bright red hair cut short and spiky. His green eyes looked troubled, as usual. He was as tall and thin as his father, John, had been. It was too bad he’d also inherited his mother’s temperament with that red hair. John had been very laid back and less prone to dramatic outbursts.
She turned and smiled at him, moved out of the way of the main traffic. “Hello. It’s good to see you. How’s Mai?”
Paul had married his long-time girlfriend, Mai Sato, shortly after Peggy and Steve had been married. Mai was an assistant medical examiner.
“She’s fine. You already know that. You had lunch with her last week.” His tone reflected the irritated look on his face.
Peggy took a deep breath. It was going to be that kind of morning. “All right. I was being polite. You remember being polite, don’t you?” Her gaze met his. “You say nice things when you meet someone.”
Her words fell on deaf ears. “I can’t believe you’re here! I heard you were going to work on those homicides with Al. I didn’t believe it.”
“Why not? It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”
He took her arm and wedged them into a small corner of the cement landing at the top of the stairs. His back and shoulders sheltered their conversation from prying eyes and listening ears.
“You’ve done it before and it hasn’t always been good. Remember almost getting killed? I thought we had an understanding a
bout this.”
She smiled at him in a way that only a mother smiles at her children—both pleased and infuriated.
“The only understanding I had about not continuing to consult with the police was that Jonas Rimer didn’t want me here. Al does. Why does that bother you?”
“Because you’re my mother. I think that says it all.”
“Not really. Thanks for trying. I have to go inside now. Sam has a big shipment of mulch and he needs me at The Potting Shed. Good to see you.” She kissed his cheek.
“Mom—”
It was too late to say anything more on the subject. Peggy had put herself into the main stream of traffic going into the building.
She loved Paul, but he was seriously overprotective. It seemed as though he swung irrationally from completely ignoring her to checking on her every move. She had no doubt it wouldn’t be his final word on the subject.
She’d worried about his reaction when she’d told him she was marrying Steve. It had only been a few years since John’s death. Paul had been very close to his father. He’d changed his mind about becoming an architect to enter the police academy.
It wasn’t something she or John had wanted for him. It was even worse when Peggy realized Paul wanted to become a police officer to help locate John’s killer. The man had never been taken into custody.
She wasn’t sure what was on his mind then, or now. She knew he worried about her. She worried about him too. He’d gone through with becoming a police officer despite her feelings on the subject.
She was doing the same, she realized. He had to understand that she had a job to do too.
Peggy went through the security scanner and emerged on the other side. She looked around for Paul. There was no sign of him. She grabbed her scanned pocketbook and smiled at the officer. At the front desk, another officer gave her a security badge and directed her to Al’s office.
She passed by John’s old office where a young detective with egg on his tie sat talking on the phone. She knew she’d never forget the day she’d come here after John’s death to collect his personal items.
Peggy had thought her life was over at that point. The only thing that had seen her through was opening The Potting Shed.
John had been an avid gardener, eagerly following her experiments in his time away from the job. They’d talked and dreamed for years of opening a garden shop when John retired. She’d wanted to fulfill that dream even though John had been gone.
“There you are,” Al greeted her. He introduced her to his team of detectives that were investigating the two homicides.
“You taught me botany at Queen’s.” The grungy detective from the park said. “You probably don’t even remember me.”
Peggy tried to put the name—Tanner Edwards—to the face. It seemed she should remember something about him, but she’d taught hundreds of students in her time. His blond hair and blue eyes weren’t familiar to her. She might recall his work in her class later.
“No, I’m sorry,” she finally said. “But it’s nice to meet you again.”
“That’s okay. I’m glad you’re here to help with this, Professor,” Tanner said. “If ever your knowledge was needed, this is it.”
Al also introduced Detectives Molly Bryson and Dan Rodriguez.
They took her to a large room where pictures and other information about the victims were displayed on a whiteboard.
“We found the first victim, John Spindler, near Park Road Books a few weeks ago. As far as we can tell there was nothing special about him. He was in his early sixties. Married. He has a son. He worked at a bank,” Al explained.
She looked at the man’s picture on the board. “And he was killed with poison from an angel’s trumpet.”
“That’s right,” Detective Rodriguez fingered his thin mustache as though it were a new addition. His thick black hair was trimmed close to his head, emphasizing his intense, dark eyes. “The medical examiner said he had a high concentration of it in his blood. She said death would have come very quickly. We figure whoever killed him did it right there.”
Peggy looked at the next man on the board. She could barely recognize the face of the dead man she’d seen that morning. “And this is the man from this morning?”
“Yes. John Tucker.” Al said.
“Anything up with the names being the same?” Peggy wondered.
“Probably not.” Detective Molly Bryson wore her dark red hair combed back from her forehead. Her blue eyes reminded Peggy of the color of monkshood, another poison. “We think it’s doubtful the victims were targeted. It was most probably a crime of convenience.”
“They grabbed the first person they saw that was handy,” Dan explained.
“Molly doesn’t like the weird cases,” Tanner said with a smile.
“Nobody likes the weird ones,” Molly defended herself.
“Mr. Tucker was in his sixties,” Al continued. “He had a wife and a son. He worked as a manager at a local trucking firm. The medical examiner just confirmed that he was killed by the poison in buttercups. He was also injected with the poison.”
“Protoanemonin,” Peggy supplied.
They all looked at her and she smiled.
“You can see they were staged with the plants on their bodies,” Molly went on.
“So I think it’s safe to call this a serial killer,” Tanner added.
“No one wants to hear that,” Al told him. “I’d better not hear that on the news tonight. We’re holding back enough information that no one should be able to pick up on it—at least for right now.”
Molly shrugged. “Unless they realize that two men around the same age and general description were murdered and left outside in the same area. Park Road Books isn’t that far from the park on Queen’s Road.”
“Maybe that’s another part of this,” Tanner said. “Both have something to do with parks.”
Peggy looked closely at the two men on the board again. They both had brown hair, and according to their description, brown eyes. They had similar builds. Both were wearing suits and ties.
“So what poisonous plant comes after B?” Molly asked.
“What did you say?” Peggy narrowed her eyes as she looked at her. Her words were so close to Nightflyer’s.
“I’m just saying.” Molly shrugged as they all stared at her. “If this is really alphabetical, the next one will be killed with a plant that starts with C, right?”
“There could be hundreds of choices,” Peggy said. “I don’t even want to speculate on that right now.”
“What can you tell us about this?” Al asked. “As of this morning, you’re officially my forensic botanist.”
“Thanks.” She organized her thoughts on the subject. “The poison would have to be extremely strong to produce these effects. I can’t imagine this would be something you could buy, even on the black market. I’d guess that the killer distilled the poison himself. Once it was administered, the ME is right. Death would have come very quickly.”
“So he’d need a lab or something to do this,” Dan suggested.
“Yes,” Peggy agreed. “But nothing special. The poison could be created in someone’s home. I could do it in my basement. The knowledge of creating the poisons is more important. Not everyone would realize these plants were poisonous. Even fewer would know how to take advantage of that.”
“Great.” Al looked at his notes. “So the killer could be anyone. Anywhere. That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Have they found any other botanical evidence on either body?” Peggy asked.
“Nothing besides dog hair and grass stains,” Tanner said. “And the dog belonged to the victim. That was a dead end.”
“Maybe you could pay a visit to the ME’s office and take a look at what they’ve got,” Al suggested. “We have to find this killer before he strikes again. If that happens, everyone will be calling it a serial killing. No one wants that.”
Peggy agreed, but she had to go to The Potting Shed. S
he wanted to help—God knew she didn’t want another death. However, she had to work with Sam and keep her garden shop going too.
“I’ll make arrangements to go later today,” she promised. “That’s the best I can do on the spur of the moment or Sam will have my head. Unless you want to send an officer to unload mulch from a truck?”
Al smiled. “I think this afternoon will be fine.”
He instructed his detectives on what their next moves should be. There were witnesses to question, interviews with the victims’ families. They could only hope something would turn up.
Peggy was about to leave and head to The Potting Shed when a call came in on her cell phone. It was her security company. Someone had attempted to break into her house.
Chapter Three
Cyclamen - Primrose family - A European perennial plant considered a good gift at Christmas. Seeds ripen under the protection of the leaves. Long used as a purgative by healers. Poison from the plant was used for centuries on arrowheads. Even small doses are poisonous to humans.
The police had been called by the security company. Two uniformed officers were already at Peggy’s house when she arrived.
Al had driven her home—after stashing her bike in the trunk of his car. He’d wanted to make sure everything was all right and save her some time getting there.
Peggy had assured him that her alarm sometimes went off and nothing was wrong. She didn’t want him to waste his time driving her home when there was a killer to find. How would that look on his new lieutenant’s record?
“Dr. Margaret Lee?” the older of the two officers asked when she got out of the car.
“Yes.” Al answered for her and showed the officers his ID. “Dr. Lee is a consultant with the Charlotte PD. What happened here, Officer Kopacka?”
“Nothing so far as we know,” the young officer answered. “We walked around the perimeter of the house. Everything looks fine. The doors are still locked. There are no broken windows. It must’ve been a glitch in the system.”
Peggy wanted to hurry this along. The noise from the alarm was irritating. She would certainly hear about it from Mr. Bellows. She opened the kitchen door and turned the alarm off, heaving a sigh of relief when it was quiet.
