Fruit of the Poisoned Tree (32 page)

Peggy’s glance snapped up to his broad face. “Shouldn’t I be getting some sort of stipend for helping out instead of threats? You know, the next time you can’t figure something out, I might not be so willing to help.”

Al took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. “Get her out of here, Steve. I don’t think I can take any more.”

“Yes, sir.” Steve hurried Peggy toward his SUV. “I think
now
might be a good time to make a strategic retreat.”

 

“AND THIS IS LIVE footage from Queens University this morning as the leader of a left-wing conservation group known only as Tomorrow’s Children, is shown being put in a van by local law enforcement. He’s being identified as twenty-five-year-old Fletcher Davis, a graduate student at Yale who was working at Queens on a sabbatical assignment. Mr. Davis is a suspect in an apparent murder in the death of Park Lamonte, the attorney killed when his car went off the Interstate 485 ramp. There will be more on this as events unfold. This is Mark Shipton in uptown Charlotte. Back to you, Marvin.”

David and Hunter sat in the Potting Shed with Sam and Peggy as they watched the news at noon on television. “It looks like that part is over anyway,” Sam said as he finished his turkey sandwich.

“I was right about Park being poisoned in Philadelphia. I can’t believe I helped that man escape the police.” Peggy anguished. “It might have saved Park’s life if they’d picked him up then.”

Hunter swallowed the last of her diet Pepsi. “Sometimes you can’t see all the puzzle pieces until you get them together.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sam demanded. “Peggy did the best she could in the situation.”

“I’m not saying she didn’t.” Hunter shrugged and looked at David for backup. “I’m just saying things aren’t always the way they appear.”

“That’s true.” David rose to the occasion. “But even though this might solve what happened to Park, it doesn’t explain what happened to his mother.”

“You weren’t here when Peggy first came in,” Sam said. He explained about the two women who were in Isabelle’s house that morning. “I think the chances are pretty good one or both of them did it for the money.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” David shrugged. “That should help Beth.”

“The break-in at your house must’ve been random,” Hunter gently suggested to Peggy. “Maybe they didn’t have time to steal anything. You were lucky.”

“Maybe,” Peggy said, not sure if she agreed about the random part.

“Since there were two of them, maybe the housekeeper and the ex-wife went through your house to throw off the investigation,” Sam suggested. “You remember? The police thought it might be more than one person who did that to your house. That would make sense.”

“At this point, anything is still possible,” Peggy agreed. A customer came in, and she left her place behind the counter where they’d been watching TV and eating lunch.

“We need to go.” Hunter nudged David. “Not much time before you have to get back to work.”

“You’re right.” He kissed her forehead. “We better get going.”

When they were gone and Peggy’s customer was done ordering a hundred Jerusalem artichokes, Sam shook his head. “I don’t know if I can get used to seeing them together.”

Peggy smiled as she processed the order into the computer. “Jealous?”

“No! Nauseated. Disgusted. Not jealous.” He pushed back his blond hair with an impatient hand. “They’re sickening together. I mean, nobody
really
acts like that.”

“You haven’t been to the park on a nice day, have you?” She laughed. “Lots of people act like that. They’re called lovers. I acted like that when John and I first got together.”

Sam fidgeted with the notepad on the counter, lowering his voice as the beginning of the lunch crowd came into the shop. “I guess the people I know are more
discreet.
”

Peggy put her hand on his shoulder. “Maybe they feel they need to be.”

“Maybe. The chances are nobody is going to beat Hunter and David for flaunting it.”

“Life isn’t fair. I’m not saying you’re not right about the possible consequences,” she said, “but maybe it’s worth the risk. People have to speak out. They have to be who they are. It might be scary, but it’s worse to keep everything in the dark.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Peggy. I hope we’re talking about the same thing.”

“I think we have customers.” She laughed and hugged him. “You’re crazy, Sam, but I love you.”

Because the morning mist and cold were burned away by the warm sun, a flood of customers spilled into the Potting Shed. Sam manned the cash register and took orders. Peggy worked the wood floors, answering questions and finding what her customers needed. She signed one woman up for landscaping her rose garden, promising a variety of old-fashioned, fragrant roses for warmer planting.

A young man asked, red-faced, about starting a water garden on his fifth floor balcony. Peggy led him to the pond kits and pointed out the water plants in a catalog. She was careful to stay away from fairies and other “cute” garden items when he confessed to feeling a little unmanly setting up a pond. They agreed on an alligator fountain and some dwarf cattails to start with. She knew he’d get over his feelings as soon as he saw the water garden in place.

One woman was interested in planting lemon balm in her small patio herb garden. Peggy cautioned her about the prolific tendencies of the plant. “You can try to keep it in a pot, but it probably won’t stay put. If you had a larger space, you might be able to grow some and keep it in check. In a spot this small, it could take over your other plants.”

“I drink a lot of it and thought it might be good to grow,” the young woman explained. “If I keep it in a pot away from the garden and cut it back regularly, do you think I could manage it?”

“I think that could work,” Peggy agreed. “The worst that might happen is you’ll begin to see sprouts of it in your garden. You can always pull them up right away.”

“Good. I’d like to get some plants though. I’m hopeless with seeds.”

Peggy ordered three plants for the woman and a half-dozen Jerusalem artichokes. She also ordered some faux antique gardening implements and a Charleston bench. “If you have any other questions, just let me know. I’m online at this address, or you can call.” Peggy gave her a business card. The woman thanked her, smiled at Sam, and left after writing a check for her deposit.

Mai came into the shop a little after two. The crowd was gone, and Sam was leaving for afternoon classes. “Can you talk for a few minutes?” she asked Peggy after they said good-bye to Sam.

“Of course.” Peggy didn’t like the look on Mai’s face. She gave her a cup of dandelion tea and sat her down in the rocking chair. “What’s wrong?”

“Paul and I decided to break up. It just happened. One minute we were talking about the house, and the next minute, I told him it wasn’t going to work.” Mai held her bright yellow cup with both hands and stared into the pale tea inside of it. “Don’t they say you can read a person’s future in tea leaves? I wonder what mine would say right now.”

Peggy scooted her chair from behind the counter so she could be closer to Mai. “I don’t think this kind of tea would work for that. I’m sorry about you and Paul. But he’s been such a butthead about your feelings on the house, maybe it’s for the best.”

“He hasn’t been
that
bad,” Mai defended. “He just wants us to have a stronger relationship.”

“A relationship you aren’t ready for,” Peggy reminded her. “He should’ve been happy with what you were willing to offer.”

“But how would we ever progress from dating to anything else?” Mai argued. “If neither one of us ever wanted more, we’d be the oldest dating couple in America.”

Peggy sighed. “I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding someone else.”

Mai got to her feet. “But what if I don’t want someone else? What if I made a terrible mistake?”

“Give it some time,” Peggy advised. “Paul isn’t going anywhere. Maybe a short break will be exactly what both of you need to clear your heads.”

“I hope so. I care a lot about Paul. Maybe I even love him. I’m not really sure.” Mai shrugged her thin shoulders. “I guess that’s part of the problem, huh? Were you sure about your husband when you got married?”

“No. Not at all. I had all these dreams and goals for my life,” Peggy admitted. “I was afraid if I got married I’d lose them all.”

“And did you?”

“No.” Peggy smiled at her. “At least not all of them. I had to give up my aspiration to sing on the Broadway stage, but I think I managed everything else.”

Mai’s eyes opened wide, and she laughed. “Did you
really
want to sing?”

“From the time I was five and my grandmother told me I had a voice like an angel.”

“Did anyone agree with her?”

“Is that the polite way to ask if I can carry a tune? If so, then yes. I can carry a tune in the shower. That’s about all. But I think I’ve accomplished all the real things I ever wanted. John was never an obstacle. He was always my biggest fan for whatever I wanted to do.”

Mai drank her tea and put her cup on the counter. “Thanks, Peggy. I hope you’re right, and time is the answer for my problem with Paul. I appreciate you listening to me.”

“You’re always welcome.”

“I have to get back to work.” Mai picked up her pocketbook. “Oh yeah. I thought you might be interested. Officers found the ivory dragon’s head at Alice Godwin’s home. It’s clean. She claims she cleaned it because it was ‘dirty.’ Whatever she used did a good job. Not a trace of blood or anything else. It matches the wound in Mrs. Lamonte’s head. So we know it was the murder weapon. There were some other personal effects that belonged to Mrs. Lamonte there, too.”

“What about Cindy?”

“Ms. Walker has an airtight alibi for the period the ME established for the time of death. She was in Raleigh at a fund-raiser. So with Mrs. Godwin’s impromptu confession and all the other evidence against her, the DA is filing charges against her for the murder.”

Peggy took a deep breath. “So Beth is clear.”

“It looks that way to me.”

IT WAS WEDNESDAY MORNING. Time for Peggy’s weekly garden club meeting at the Kozy Kettle. It was originally held on Thursday mornings, but Emil insisted Wednesdays were better for him. Peggy changed the day rather than move the group. With a smile on her face and a small knife in one hand, she faced her garden club members.

“The thing we all love about the rabbit’s foot fern are the fuzzy rhizomes that trail over the sides of the pot or basket that holds it. Early spring is really the best time of year to cut this plant back, but as you can see, Gerda has a problem with this one that won’t wait that long.”

Gerda Laint smiled and nodded in the audience. She’d brought Peggy her overgrown fern, wondering what to do with it.

“Naturally, we’re going to spread out some newspaper first to try to contain as much of the mess as we can. Then we’re going to take the plant out of the pot.” The fern stubbornly refused to budge from the plastic pot that held it. “Shaking it a little might be necessary.” Peggy demonstrated what she meant, and the plant finally came out. “Go ahead while you’re holding it and give the plant another good shake to get rid of any dead leaves or other debris that might be stuck to it.”

The fifteen women in the garden club watched intently as Peggy cleared away the old leaves and set the pot to one side. She put the plant down in the middle of the newspaper, then held up her knife. “Make sure you have a good sharp knife so you aren’t sawing at the plant. Separation is traumatic enough for the poor thing.”

“Carefully cut between rhizomes and make sure you get the roots.” Peggy cut the first furry tentacle that gave the plant its name. “Try to cut so you keep some leaves. You should end up with a smaller but complete plant with each cutting. The leaves should be at the top, rhizome in the middle, and roots at the bottom. Put each separate plant in its own pot of new soil. Water them thoroughly.” She demonstrated. “Don’t fertilize them until midsummer or so. And don’t expect to see new growth until the roots begin to develop.”

After scribbling down notes on what Peggy was saying, the women rushed to ask questions. One woman even took pictures. Peggy answered patiently and held up the plant for a picture.

“We’ve got some fresh buns ready,” Sofia said, noticing that the group was about to break up. “I know you all want those, right?”

After the garden club, the women were always thirsty and took home some fresh baked bread or cinnamon rolls. That’s why Emil graciously allowed Peggy to hold her meetings there. Wednesday mornings were quiet at Brevard Court. The meetings brought in some business.