Fruit of the Poisoned Tree

by Joyce; Jim Lavene

  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 roll 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.”

  “do you have some idea who that is?”

  “check out some newspapers for names. maybe other people have been poisoned. They might have something in common with your friend.”

  The small IM screen told her that Nightflyer had gone off-line. His cryptic message was annoying. This was important to her. If he had information that could help, she wished he’d just give it to her. Everything seemed like a game to him. It was hard to imagine John liking the man, as forthright as John was. But maybe Nightflyer had changed. Maybe there was more to it than she realized.

  The Elmwood Farms’ page finally came up. A green, grassy meadow with pretty elm trees and a bright red barn gave the index page a nice profile. Who wouldn’t want to buy honey or any of the other products they had? It looked very wholesome and appealing.

  She clicked on the product list when she saw no warning signs on the opening page. Was it possible no one else had reported problems with the honey? Elmwood Farms’ products included fresh eggs, honey, butter, cheese, and various cakes and breads. There was no sign of anything wrong on any of the Web site pages.

  Peggy checked out her normal news sites. She couldn’t find any stories about Elmwood Farms. But she did find an article about a mysterious poisoning in Dubuque, Iowa. When she clicked on the link to the story, she read about another man who’d been poisoned by substances unknown. He was recovering in the hospital after being treated. She wrote down all of the information about the case and forwarded the link to her home computer.

  As terrible as it was to think it, more than one poisoning could save Beth from further investigation. If the bees from Elmwood got into a batch of horse chestnut, that was no wrongdoing on anyone’s part. Maybe it was all a terrible mistake.

  Except for Isabelle . . .

  By that time, customers were starting to come into the store. Her mind seethed with the possibilities as she rang up sales on her new antique garden furniture selection. The unit was designed to look like an 1890s cupboard but was made of treated lumber and wrought iron so it could be used outdoors to store garden supplies.

  The beauty of the sales was that she didn’t have to stock more than one of the cupboards. The company drop shipped directly from her orders to the customers’ homes. She had to do what she could with limited space and an ever-questing market of gardeners looking for new products. The cupboards would be functional and enhance the beauty of the yard as well.

  Selena came in at noon. Her morning exams didn’t go well. She looked like a little girl who was denied a toy. “Dammit, Peggy!” She slammed her book bag on the counter after seeing there was no one else in the shop. “I did a good job on those essays! Professor Martin hates me. I don’t know why, but he’s got it in for me.”

  “From the other side of the aisle,” Peggy rebutted, “maybe he thinks you could do better. Have you talked with him?”

  “If you’re going to get someone to work harder, giving them a bad grade isn’t much incentive. Now I feel like coasting through the rest of the year. I’ve tried hard in that class. What’s the point if nothing I do is good enough?”

  “You should definitely talk to him, Selena,” Peggy advised, picking up her jacket and book bag. “I hate to have to run, but I have that appointment with the dog trainer this afternoon. Talk to Professor Martin. Ask him what the problem is.”

  Selena pushed her book bag behind the counter and plopped down on the rocking chair. “I know what his problem is. He’s an arrogant idiot. He’s so full of himself he can’t see past the end of his nose. And he’s got a really big nose, so he’s probably been that way all of his life! I can’t stand him. No one can.”

  Peggy laughed. “Thinking about him that way won’t help. I should be back by four. Maybe you can take off early and go see him. Work something out. I’ll talk to you later. We’ve been a little busy in the last hour.

  “I get the idea.” Selena tied on her green Potting Shed apron. “I think you might be seeing this as a professor instead of my friend. Maybe by the time you come back, you could try to be more receptive to my whining.”

  “I’ll do the best I can, sweetie. Take care.” Peggy ignored the rumbling in her stomach as she smelled the delicious aromas coming from Anthony’s Caribbean Café. She raced home on her bike, grateful for the dry streets under the warm February sun. It was a good day for Sam and Keeley, too. It could be difficult to schedule planting days in the winter between the cold and the rain, but the landscaping business was an important aspect of what the Potting She
d did to survive.

  She picked up her mail and let herself in the house. Shakespeare was barking and howling, throwing himself against the door in the pantry. But at least everything else in the house was the way she left it that morning. Measuring his discomfort against her own seemed unfair, but she had to survive, too.

  Peggy hoped to have some message from Mai when she got home, even though she knew Mai had her cell phone number and the number at the shop. She’d call if anything came up. Obviously, there were no updates on the honey. Of course, for all she knew, the ME could decide it wasn’t important enough to bring up the investigation again. She didn’t always understand the political aspect of the law. But she knew things weren’t ever black and white.

  Peggy let Shakespeare out and took him for a walk. It consisted of him trying to pull her arm out of its socket. She finally called a halt to the torture as soon as he went to the bathroom in the yard. He whined and looked eagerly at the rest of the yard. “That’s not going to happen,” she told him. “Not until you learn some manners.”

  She took the dog back inside. Both of them were eating lunch while she surfed the Internet for more information about any poisoning cases in the last few days. An abrupt knock on the door brought Paul in the kitchen. He was dressed for work in his tidy blue uniform. He’d recently had his hair cut and still smelled of spicy aftershave and soap from a shower.

  He hugged her, then took off his jacket. “You’re trying to ruin my career in law enforcement, aren’t you? You couldn’t win arguing with me about not being on the job, so you found another way.”

  She looked up from her hummus and pita sandwich. “Are you feeling all right? Would you like some lunch?”

  “I’m fine. I ate a sandwich on the way over here.” He glared at her. “You know I love you, Mom. And we both know you didn’t want me on the job because of what happened to Dad. But I thought we settled this thing between us. If you still don’t want me to wear the uniform, say so. Let’s talk it out. Don’t try to sabotage me.”

  Peggy swallowed the pita in her mouth, then took a swallow of lemon tea. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about, Paul.”

  “I’m talking about your new business as a private detective. Did you think I wouldn’t hear about your run-in with the lieutenant this morning? And I wish you’d leave Mai out of this. We need her income to afford the house. She can’t afford to get fired because of you!”

  It was the perfect opportunity for Peggy to tackle him about the house on Mai’s behalf. But she obviously had a few strokes against her already. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate her telling him what Mai couldn’t. At least not at that moment. “What I did had nothing to do with you, Paul. I knew there wasn’t any time to explain all the details to the police or wait for them to come up with a search warrant on my information. I did the best I could to help Park.”

  “How many times are you going to put your life on the line to help people? You aren’t trained to search for evidence. You could’ve been hurt out there at the landfill.” He sighed and played with the small, silver saltshaker on the wood table. “Don’t worry. I know about you and the lieutenant. Mai gave me all the details. But he doesn’t know about the ME wanting to reopen the investigation because of the honey you found. Yet. He’s not gonna like it when he finds out.”

  “He does?”

  “What?”

  “The ME wants to reopen the investigation because of the honey I found?”

  “Yes. I told Mai this would only encourage you! They don’t need your help.” He took her hands in his. Green gazes collided across the laptop. “Stay away from this, please. For my sake, if not your own.”

  “I won’t do anything I don’t have to do,” she promised, taking her hands out of his clasp. “That’s the best I can offer. I want to know the truth about what happened to Park.”

  He nodded but didn’t look at her. “Fine. I have to go. I just wanted you to know the lieutenant talked about you in our briefing this morning.”

  Peggy didn’t know whether to be pleased or offended. “What did he say?”

  “He said no one should give information to busybodies who think they’re amateur detectives. He called you a busybody and a snoop, Mom.”

  She tried but couldn’t suppress the smile that sprang to her lips. Really, she knew she should take it more seriously. She just couldn’t. “Did he call me a busybody by name? I mean was it like, ‘Peggy Lee is a busybody and a snoop. Don’t talk to her.’ Or was it more general?”

  Paul didn’t find it amusing. “Everyone knew he was talking about my mother. It made me feel like an idiot.” His voice lowered dramatically. “Think about it. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Peggy watched him leave before she giggled. “He’s always had a bent for melodrama.” She sighed as she stroked Shakespeare’s head, which rested on her lap. “I wish there was a school I could take him to. But it’s probably too late for him anyway. Some old dogs won’t learn new tricks.”

  Carlos Gonzales, the garbageman turned taxi driver, picked her and Shakespeare up a few minutes later. She told him about her trip to the landfill. He laughed when she described the landfill manager. “I know him. He tries to charge everybody for everything. You were smart. Did you find what you were looking for?”

  She was careful about what she told him. She liked Carlos but didn’t want the information in the newspaper tomorrow. As she described finding the honey jar, she wondered if Paul had something to do with Mai not calling her about the ME’s decision to reopen the investigation.

  Peggy took out her cell phone as Carlos navigated the high-speed traffic on the interstate. Should she call Mai? Or should she leave well enough alone? She didn’t want her to lose her job or get in any trouble. Maybe she should wait and let Mai tell her that she couldn’t do anything else.

  Looking down from watching traffic before they came to the ramp she was beginning to despise, she noticed there were four messages on her cell phone. How had she missed them? She checked them and found that they were all from Mai. It was a simple mistake. She turned off her ringer at the police station that morning and forgot to turn it back on.

  Mai answered her phone on the first ring. “Peggy! I’ve been trying to reach you all morning! The ME wants to see you. I told him you had some samples of poisoned honey. He wants you to bring them by. Will you do that?”

  PEGGY AND RUE SAT down, exhausted by their workout with Shakespeare. He started acting up when he walked through the front door at Whiskers and Paws. A woman with a new kitten was leaving. Shakespeare saw the kitten and let out a deep, booming bark. The kitten yowled, scratched its owner, and jumped to the floor. In the ensuing confusion, three flowerpots were broken and several chairs were knocked over.

  After that beginning, things got worse. Peggy held Shakespeare’s leash while Rue took him through a series of commands. When he was told to sit, Shakespeare barked. When Rue pointed to the floor and told him to lie down, he jumped up on her, putting his large paws on her shoulders and almost knocking her over. No matter what they tried to get him to do, Shakespeare did the opposite.

  “I don’t understand what’s wrong with him,” Peggy huffed, lying back in her chair. Shakespeare was at her feet. He whined and covered his face with his paws. “I know he wasn’t this bad before I went to Pennsylvania. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

  Rue shook her head. “Some dogs have a harder time learning. He’s a tough cookie, but we’ll work it out. He might’ve been thrown off by chasing the kitten when he first came in. Or maybe it’s the new surroundings. We’re not off to a great start right now, but I’m sure things will get better.”

  “I hope so.” Peggy glanced at her watch, then got to her feet. “I have to go. Thank you for putting up with us. We’ll see you Thursday.”

  “Not a problem. It’ll work out.”

  “And I’ll replace those vases my big nitwit broke, Rue. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Peggy. Just be
careful with him. I’d hate for you to get hurt before we calm him down!”

  Carlos came back for them. He laughed and couldn’t believe Shakespeare wouldn’t follow the trainer’s commands at the shop. “He’s always so good in the car. Aren’t you, boy? Maybe it was the way she was talking to him.”

  Shakespeare barked and jumped over into the front seat, almost managing to sit on Carlos’s lap. Peggy tugged on his leash and ordered him into the backseat while Carlos tried to steer the taxi around the dog that was almost as big as him.

  When Peggy finally got Shakespeare to move, Carlos straightened his cap and looked in the rearview mirror at her. “That’s a lot of dog, Peggy. You gotta be careful he doesn’t break your arm.”

  Peggy, who was almost sitting on Shakespeare to keep him down in the backseat, was breathing hard when she promised to be careful. “Maybe this is too much dog for me after all. I went from not having any pets to this monster. It would probably have been better if I’d found a poodle.”

  Carlos let them off at Peggy’s house. He promised to come back for her at the same time Thursday. She told Shakespeare what she thought of his behavior as she walked him in the front yard for a few minutes. She didn’t let him off of his leash like she usually did when they went into the house. Instead, she walked him into the laundry room, told him to stay, and closed the door.

  She made herself a cup of sassafras tea to steady her nerves while she checked her phone messages. The university was asking for all school personnel to attend a training/awareness seminar on how to handle early dismissal for bad weather. She glanced at the big clock on the kitchen wall. She was already twenty minutes late for that. Not that she saw much point in having a seminar for letting people out of school early.

  Instead, she tried to relax as she drank her tea. It was a homemade brew. Her mother went out to find the mitten-shaped leaves on the sassafras tree and dig for the roots to make her own tea back home. There was a railroad track by the house, a place sassafras loved to grow. Her mother walked the track for hours to get enough root to dry and carefully preserved her stock.