6 A Thyme to Die (4 page)

“That was a mighty ambitious proposal,” Al muttered to Steve.

“You would’ve done the same thing if it was Mary. She’s worked so hard for this.” Steve stared lovingly at Peggy’s back. “Maybe it can happen.”

Al shrugged. “You better hope so. You think she’s unhappy now. . .”

“Yeah. I hear you.”

Peggy stopped and looked back at them. “This is it. Aris’s grasp on understanding orchid species is remarkable. Look at this—a blue orchid. Can you believe the size, and depth of the color?”

Al glanced at it and then took in the state of the rest of the exhibit. “Looks like a tornado came through here. Wasn’t he finished setting up like everyone else?”

Peggy had been so enthralled with the orchid in the glass case that she had completely missed the mess that had been created behind it. The blue orchid was the only one left.

“No. It wasn’t like this.” She started to go behind the table.

Steve put his hand on her arm. “We should wait and let forensics go over it. I’m sorry.”

She took a step back. Al was already on his phone getting someone to come up and look for any evidence left behind.

“Why would someone go to all the trouble of smashing his whole exhibit this way?”

Peggy mourned the loss of her friend’s work.

“Probably looking for something,” Al said. “What was the exhibit? It looks like a bunch of poster board and papers.”

“That’s all it was,” she said. “He was a grower. He felt as though his orchids showed themselves off. He didn’t do anything elaborate, like some of the other participants.”

“It looks like a rage thing to me,” Steve said. “Whatever someone was looking for wasn’t here. I think they took it out on his exhibit and the orchids he loved.”

“Unless, of course, they were trying to throw us off.” Peggy stifled the urge to go into the exhibit and clean up, holding her tablet tightly with both hands.

“We’ve got a few teams headed up here.” Al got off the phone. “I think it’s a good guess that the killer was looking for something. Are there any pictures of the way his exhibit was supposed to look?”

“Yes.” Peggy pulled it up on her tablet. “I went around before I left yesterday and took pictures of everything.”

“Do you have a picture of the area where we found Dr. Abutto’s body?” Steve asked.

“Of course. There was nothing there.”

“Send that to me, Peggy.” Al handed her a card. “They’re always screwing around with the email. This is my new one, second one this month.”

She took it from him and read the large, plain black text and then looked at Steve. “Do you want me to send the information to you too?”

He took a card out of his wallet and gave it to her. “Thanks.”

Peggy read it and put it away. Steve turned back to Al and she saw the gun hidden in a holster beneath his jacket.
A reminder that, no matter what he says, his job is dangerous
.

 “If there’s nothing else I can do here,” she smiled at both of them, “I’m going to The Potting Shed. If you have any questions for me, you both have my cell phone number.”

“That’s fine, Peggy. Thanks.” Al nudged Steve with his elbow. “Good with you too, Director Newsome?”

“That’s fine.” Steve grimaced at the title. “You can still call me Steve.”

Al winked at Peggy. “Yeah. We’re good here.”

The four-person crime scene team bolted up the stairs with their satchels and cases.

Peggy waited until they had passed and then headed for the elevator.

Steve stopped her at the door. “I know this is weird. It’s weird for me too. I wish there would’ve been more time to get adjusted to the idea before this happened.”

“Me too.” She lowered her voice. “I didn’t even know you carried a gun.”

“I know. We haven’t talked about the particulars, I guess.”

She smiled and he took her hand in his.

“Peggy, don’t do anything with this, huh? No side investigations. No well-meaning looking into ideas as they hit you. If you think of anything we should know about, call me. Or text me. Or tell me tonight in bed. Okay?”

Peggy was calm and collected. “Don’t worry. I’m not involved in this investigation.”

“I
know
you. I’ve participated in some of your ‘adventures’, looking for justice. Keep me in the loop. I haven’t suddenly become the enemy.”

“Of course not.” She moved her cold hand out of his grasp. “I’ll see you later.” She got in the elevator and the doors slid closed in front of her.

“You know that’s never worked for me, right?” Al asked Steve.

“It’s different—”

Al
humphed
. “Yeah. Keep believing that.”

Chapter Four

Chrysanthemum

Chrysanthemums (mums) were first cultivated in China in the 15
^th
century. It was brought to Japan in the eighth century, and the Emperor adopted the flower as his official seal. The Festival of Happiness in Japan celebrates the flower. It was brought to Europe in the 17th century and named for the Greek word for ‘golden’ which was the original color of the flowers.  Colonel John Stevens imported a variety in 1798 from England. Today, mums are one of the most popular flowers in the US.

Peggy tapped her foot impatiently in the elevator on the way downstairs. Whether she liked it or not—whether Steve liked it or not—things were a little different between them. It felt odd. Not impossible. Strange, maybe.

He was right. There were many times in her duties as a forensic botanist, working on contract for the Charlotte Police Department, that she had followed some hunches that had led her to answers she later shared with the police. Steve had participated in a few of those occurrences.

That could never happen again.

Now he was Director Steve Newsome, not veterinarian Steve Newsome. He’d be in direct contact with Al and the rest of the police department. He’d get all preachy and stiff about working outside the normal chains of command.

John would’ve been the same way, she admitted to herself. Paul was pretty much like that too. They were all entrenched in their professions and believed it was better for trained individuals to handle investigations.

She was trained too, even if it was only six weeks to get her forensic certification. She knew how to handle evidence and how to store it. She had enough common sense not to step in front of a moving car, or a criminal with a gun.

Peggy was walking down the long concourse again, this time going back to the entrance and the parking lot. Dr. Beck was still there, working with her team on the area that had surrounded Dr. Abutto’s corpse.

She could hear Dr. Beck talking into her tape recorder as she walked by. The team was taking samples of all the botanical evidence—flower petals from chrysanthemums, geraniums, and magnolia leaves. It made her smile because she had no doubt that she’d be called in to work with the evidence.

She was the only forensic botanist in the area. Who else would they call?

Dr. Beck was cataloguing what she’d seen on the body and around it. She was talking about the pink flowers that had been buried with Dr. Abutto and thrown on the grave.

Peggy tapped her on the shoulder. “They’re thyme, not oregano.”

Dorothy Beck turned off her tape recorder. “Thanks. I thought they smelled like something that went into spaghetti sauce. I’m sure I’ll have my forensic botanist check it out before filing my report.”

“I’m sure you will. Was he killed here?”

“You sure you want to hear what I think about your friend’s death?”

Peggy nodded, swallowing hard on a lump in her throat. “He came because I invited him, Dorothy. I want to know.”

“Then, yes. I think he was killed here. He was shot. I think the dirt absorbed the blood, which is why we aren’t seeing more of it.”

“I’m guessing that he wasn’t dead very long. The flowers on the grave were fresh. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours.”

“You should’ve applied for my job when the post was vacant.”

“No. If it doesn’t involve plants, I’m not interested. You know Mai wanted the position.”

“I’ve heard that. Her attitude toward me has improved. I don’t worry so much that there might be poison in my coffee or a knife in my back when I lean over. Maybe it’s the pregnancy.”

They both laughed. Peggy knew her daughter-in-law, Mai, had really believed she’d be the next medical examiner. She was very good at what she did and had worked hard for that position. The board had decided she didn’t have enough experience and had hired Dorothy.

Mai hadn’t been happy with the situation, although she did seem to be coming around in the last few months. Dorothy was right about the pregnancy. Mai wasn’t as angry about the job now. She was more interested in her baby.

“I’m sure I’ll hear from you later. I’m headed to The Potting Shed where my talents are appreciated.”

Dorothy nodded. “I know what you mean. The boys always like to play with other boys. Don’t worry. I appreciate you. See you around.”

 Peggy stepped outside into the brilliant sunshine, the deep Carolina blue sky smiling down on her despite everything that had happened. She called a taxi and waited at the outside of the gate with Reggie, the security guard.

“Too bad about that whole mess in there.” He jerked his head toward the convention center. “You were gonna have a good first day too. I’ve turned back hundreds of people who haven’t heard about the murder yet.”

“Let’s hope for a better second day.” Peggy had seen hundreds of emails, texts and voicemails from vendors, growers, the local group that had helped bring the flower show to Charlotte, and the International Flower Show committee. She didn’t plan to answer any of them yet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let Dr. Abutto into the building last night all by himself.” Reggie took off his gray cap and wiped the top of his bald head with a clean handkerchief. “Don’t ask me why. Lots of people come in after hours at this type of thing. Everyone can’t get stuff done during the day. It’s like I knew something was wrong, especially when he didn’t come back out.”

“Did you see anyone else go in or out?”

“No, not for hours. As far as I know, the old guy was alone in there. Bad way to die, huh?”

“Did he say anything? Did he look agitated?”

“No. Nothing like that. He brought in a duffel bag. I thought it must be some kind of flower stuff, you know.”

Peggy thought back quickly to what she had seen when she’d first arrived, and then later when Al, Steve, and everyone else were there. She couldn’t remember seeing a duffel bag around the grave. She supposed there could’ve been one upstairs in the mess someone had made of his things.

“Do you remember what color it was?”

“It was plain and black. Nothing unusual.” Reggie answered his phone in the guard shack. He turned back to her after hanging up. “It’s already starting. TV and newspapers want to know what I saw. I already told the police everything. I don’t know why those people don’t mind their own business.”

Peggy’s taxi pulled up. “I have to go. I’m sure it will blow over quickly. You know Charlotte—something is always happening.”

“That’s sure enough true. Have a good day, Peggy.”

She thought about what Reggie had said after giving the driver the address to The Potting Shed.

If Reggie saw Dr. Abutto go in alone and not come out, someone could have been hiding in there, waiting for him. She couldn’t imagine who would want to hurt Aris. She wished she could see it as an accident, but it looked more like murder.

The convention center wasn’t impenetrable. It was surrounded by the high chain link fence, but the doors were frequently left open. The vendors and growers going in and out the last few weeks with their exhibits didn’t have keys.

She had a key, and the security guard on duty had keys, probably along with the maintenance staff. Literally, anyone could have been in there at any time.

Was the missing duffel bag significant?

There was no way to know yet. Aris’s orchids were all in place before she’d left yesterday. She’d thought the rest of his work was there too, but he could have had other items he had to bring in.

“Here we are,” the driver said.

“Thanks.” Peggy paid him and got out.

The Potting Shed was in one of the few historic areas left in Charlotte. Brevard Court was built at the doorway to Latta Arcade, a two-story brick building that was a restored 1915 cotton exchange with an overhead skylight. The purpose was to provide natural light for cotton buyers to inspect their goods.

The arcade, with its antique light fixtures and parallel rows of shop fronts, was now a shopping mall that welcomed buyers with dozens of colorful storefronts.

Brevard Court was an open-air extension where shoppers could sit down at umbrella-topped tables and enjoy lunch or a latte. There were shops in the courtyard too, including The Potting Shed.

Peggy waved to Sofia Balducci at The Kozy Kettle Tea and Coffee Emporium across the cobblestones from her garden shop. Sofia, rings on every finger, waved back as she swept the stoop in front of her shop.

The rent in the courtyard was a little steep, but Peggy loved the spot. She’d had the shop here since John had passed. It had taken his insurance and all the money she could muster to open what she hoped would be an urban dweller’s garden paradise.