6 A Thyme to Die (2 page)

The house was set in a trust that followed the family line. Her husband, John Lee, had brought her here as a young bride. Their son, Paul, was born and raised here but wouldn’t inherit.

The Lee family wasn’t happy that Peggy still lived there after John’s death. They were especially unhappy after she’d remarried two years ago, but really, what was the use in the house sitting empty? John’s nephew was a journalist who was always in interesting parts of the world. He didn’t have time for the place.

Peggy planned to stay there as long as she could, until she died and they carried her out, if that was possible. Steve had sold his house a few doors down and come to live with her after the wedding.

Shakespeare was asleep and snoring on the bed again when she got upstairs. She didn’t disturb him. She took a shower and put on a wonderful forest green suit she’d found especially for the flower show. The color was perfect, shimmering with highlights when she was in the sun. The low-heeled sandals had been a little problem, but she’d finally had a pair dyed to match.

She’d wanted to look her best to step into her role as local chairperson for the International Flower Show. It had taken two years to convince the show’s owners to come to Charlotte. Normally they set up in Atlanta, but a coalition of city and state had enticed the owners to take a chance.

Peggy was excited about the show. She never missed one. There were vendors and growers from around the world with exhibits that couldn’t be found anywhere else.

Just watching all the setup it had taken for the event had been fascinating. There were houses and animals completely made out of flowers. Some growers had actually brought full-sized trees to create their exhibit. The exhibits were living art as growers found new ways to set their plants apart and entice buyers and investors.

Many of the vendors were dedicated to growing larger flowers, smaller trees, or hemp plants that could be spun into materials that would be used for clothing and other necessities. There were some, like her friend Dr. Aris Abutto from South Africa, who’d dedicated themselves to preserving and improving orchids.

Peggy had only met Aris in person for the first time since he’d arrived in Charlotte for the show. They’d only talked online before in the years they’d known each other. He was a delightful man.

In short, it was her world, housed in the Charlotte Convention Center for one week. It was a perfect week for her. She felt like a sponge soaking up all the new ideas from so many gardeners, biologists and botanists.

The taxi she’d taken from her house (she couldn’t ride her bike as she normally would have in these circumstances) dropped her off at the front gate of the center.

“Hello, Peggy.” The guard at the gate waved her through without looking at her pass. He’d seen it almost every day for a month. “Looks like you’re gonna have fine weather for the opening day. Good luck to you.”

“Thank you, Reggie. It’s very exciting. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so tired.”

He laughed. “I know what you mean. Hey! I tried that salve you suggested for my dry skin. It’s great stuff. Thanks.”

The salve was a personal favorite of hers made from oatmeal and seeds from the cotton plant.

“Glad it helped! I’ll see you later.”

There were no vendors there that early. Peggy opened the doors to what amounted to a cave of botanical wonders. Everyone had worked so hard to bring the show to life. Despite the time, and sometimes ridiculous problems, she was thrilled to have been a part of it.

Her own garden shop, The Potting Shed, had a nice-sized exhibit. She’d gotten the space at a discount because of her participation. She was very proud of the work her partner, Sam Ollson, had done. It was comparable to even the biggest, most expensive exhibits in the show.

One thing was out of place, though, as she walked into the main area of the building. She could have sworn it wasn’t there the day before.

The exhibit beside The Potting Shed was supposed to be an older-looking farmhouse with flowers and vegetables planted everywhere. There were chickens made of carnations and cows made of wood chips.

What there wasn’t supposed to be was a large mound of black dirt in the center of the make-believe field. She shivered, thinking it almost looked like a grave.

Just being fanciful after thinking about what Steve does for the FBI.

Peggy walked through the area, mindful of her new shoes in the dirt and mulch. She walked right up to the side of the high mound. There was a cross,
or at least it looked like a cross,
fashioned out of dogwood branches at the head of it. The dirt was covered in pink thyme flowers and leaves.

Her heart pumped a little faster as she looked at it. Something was wrong. This shouldn’t have been there. In the language of flowers, thyme was associated with the grave and with death. The plants were used on graves long ago as a memorial to the dead.

She hoped her sick feeling of dread was misplaced as she dialed 911 on her cell phone.

Chapter Two

Thyme 

Thymus vulgaris is native to Europe. The word comes from the Greek thymus, meaning courage. Known usage dates back to 3,000 BC. It was used as an antiseptic by the Sumerians and an ingredient in the Egyptian mummification process. Wearing a sprig of thyme in the hair was believed to be an attractant to men. It was the home of fairies and a potent snakebite remedy. Its association with the grave may have started in Egypt but it continues to this day when thyme is still thrown into a grave for protection and purification.

The Charlotte police responded quickly. Within five minutes, officers in uniform were looking at the unusual mound of dirt with her. There was a discussion of whether or not someone should dig up the dirt to find out if anything was inside.

Peggy had tried calling the exhibit owner but there was no answer.

Her son, Paul, had been sent as part of the group of responding officers. Paul had his father’s tall, lanky body and her green eyes. He wore his bright red hair short and spiky.

Peggy hadn’t been happy when Paul had joined the police department after John had been killed. It had been hard for him and Peggy to get through those dark days. She hadn’t wanted him to give up his dream of being an architect, and she suspected that Paul was looking for revenge. John’s killer had never been found.

As the years had passed, Paul had proven to be dedicated to the job and serious about his task of upholding the laws of the city. He wasn’t reckless, despite having her red hair and fiery temper. She’d relaxed, especially after his marriage to assistant medical examiner, Mai Sato. They had a pretty little house and Mai was pregnant with their first child. It seemed her initial fears had been unfounded.

Still there was that tightness in her chest when she knew he was on duty.

“What happened here?” Paul asked her. “Any idea if something might be in there? I guess it’s not supposed to look that way.”

She shuddered. “All I can tell you is that the Egyptians buried their dead with thyme. Maybe that doesn’t mean anything—I hope it doesn’t. Are they going to dig it up?”

“I’m not sure yet. We’re waiting for whoever is going to take jurisdiction on this.” He shrugged. “Could be the FBI. It is the
International
Flower Show.”

She knew he was teasing her. Friends had joked about them working together since they’d learned of Steve taking the job in Charlotte. Peggy infrequently worked with the Charlotte PD on cases requiring forensic botanical expertise.

“Surely the FBI has better things to do than dig up dirt mounds, even if they might be graves.” She took a quick look at her watch. “I wish they’d do whatever they’re going to do. The show opens in an hour. Where is everyone?”

“Probably being held outside until we figure out what to do. If there’s a dead body in there, like you think, you know what that means.”

Having been married to a cop for thirty years
and
consulted with the police on occasion, Peggy knew exactly what that meant.

It probably also meant the committee that chose sites for the flower show would never choose Charlotte again.

“Who’s making the decision? Should we give them a call? I could be completely wrong about this and opening day would be ruined for nothing.” Peggy was beginning to regret that she’d called the police.

“Actually, I think Al is making the decision. Calm down, Mom. He’ll be here.” Paul patted his mother on the shoulder in a perfunctory manner.

“That’s right. I guess as head of homicide, that would be his job.”

Peggy thought about all the years that Detective Al McDonald was her husband’s partner. He was notorious for being late. She loved him dearly, but the man couldn’t make it to his own wedding on time when he’d married his wife, Mary.

There was a disturbance at the door. Al, along with Charlotte’s new medical examiner, Dorothy Beck, walked into the convention center. They had a technician with them in a gray coverall who was holding a shovel. Peggy hoped this would be the person who could dig up the mound and figure out what was going on.

Please don’t let there be a dead person in that grave. I want to be wrong.

There was someone else with Al and Doctor Beck. Peggy would have known his handsome face anywhere. It was Steve, no doubt there in his capacity as area director for the FBI.

She watched him walk toward her, talking on the phone and conversing with another man in a suit and tie, probably an associate. She felt so lucky to have found love twice in her lifetime.

Steve was ten years younger than her. They’d literally run into each other one morning at a coffee shop. He’d apologized and offered to repair her bike, even though it was her own fault for daydreaming while she was in city traffic.

She wondered, but hadn’t asked, if he’d facilitated that accident to get to know her. Or was it exactly as it had seemed? Not that it mattered, but—

 “Peggy.” Al smiled and acknowledged her. “I might have known you’d be here. Plants and murder. They always call to you.”

Al’s heavy-set black face sat low on his thick, muscular neck. He was a large, strong man even so many years after he was the high school and college star quarterback. He and John had grown up together before both going to the police academy, and later, becoming partners.

“Believe me, I don’t want this to be anything but a poor joke.” Peggy’s green eyes flashed under her white-streaked red hair. “Can we do something to speed this up before the opening?”

“I understand you’re in charge of this whole shebang.” Dr. Beck stepped forward and shook Peggy’s hand. They’d worked together on a case last year.

“You could say that.” Peggy’s gaze flickered toward Steve. She couldn’t help it. She forced herself to focus on Dr. Beck’s brown eyes. “I’m the chairman of the committee that brought the flower show to Charlotte.”

In the meantime, Al had been walking leisurely around the dirt mound on the concrete floor.

“And you think this might really be a grave?” he asked her.

“It’s the thyme.” She showed him the flowers and explained about the plant’s meaning as it was used in Egyptian burial practice. “I can’t believe anyone here at the show would have anything to do with it.”

“Wouldn’t it be out of the ordinary for anyone else to have that information?” Steve asked.

It felt to Peggy as though the large convention center grew totally silent after he’d spoken. Al glanced away and Dr. Beck put on her glasses.

“Millions of people know about the language of flowers and about plant meanings. It wouldn’t only be the people here that have that information.” Peggy responded as though she wasn’t talking to her husband. He was just another person working for law enforcement.

“Anyone else here using this plant for their exhibit?” he asked.

She consulted her tablet PC that had all of the information about the growers and vendors. “No. No one has it listed.”

Al took a deep breath and nodded at the technician standing next to Steve. “Watcha got for us, Director Newsome?”

Steve stepped up to the mound. “I have a portable scanner that should tell us if anything is buried in there. That way we’ll know if we need to dig it up.”

“Nice toy.” Al grinned, shaking Steve’s hand. “Congratulations on the promotion.”

“Thanks.” Steve cast a doubtful look in Peggy’s direction. “Let’s see if anything is in there.”

He and Al stepped back from the grave. The technician set up the scanner. Dr. Beck slid her tall, angular form close enough so that she could see the images relayed back.

Peggy stayed where she was, beside Paul. She wondered if Al had known about Steve working with the FBI before she did but also wasn’t able to say anything. They hadn’t talked about it.

“I see something in there,” the technician said. “Not sure what it is.”

Dr. Beck carefully surveyed the image. “I’m afraid what we’re seeing is a foot. I think Peggy may be right about a dead body in this mound of dirt. I’ll send for a team to excavate it properly.”

Peggy took a deep, calming breath. “I guess that means the opening will be delayed.”