Poisoned Petals (21 page)

 
PEGGY READ ABOUT DARMUS’S ARREST for fraud the next morning in the
Charlotte Observer
. She wasn’t surprised that Jonas didn’t waste any time. Even if they couldn’t prove Darmus was involved with Luther’s death, he would have to answer for the other things he’d done in his quest for freedom.

She felt helpless, and didn’t know what else she could do to help him. She’d done what she could.

“Says here your friend will be in the hospital awhile for observation.” Her father read from the paper as they finished breakfast. “Maybe something will come up that will help him.”

“I don’t see what.” Peggy got up to get more coffee for Cousin Melvin. “He’s dug a pretty deep hole.”

“But you never know,” her mother added, spooning blueberry preserves on her biscuit. “Miracles happen.”

That led to a discussion of miracles around the table. Ranson, Lilla, Cousin Melvin, and Aunt Mayfield had come back from church an hour before. They were critical of Peggy for preferring to spend some time in her basement with her plants rather than attend church with them. Ranson supported his daughter, reminding them that God created those plants, and Peggy was the good shepherd, taking care of them.

They finally went upstairs around ten a.m. to change clothes and prepare for their afternoon outing. The weather was holding up and there was no rain in the forecast. This wasn’t a good thing with the drought settling in around the area like a disagreeable neighbor, but it meant they could go out to the Stowe Botanical Garden that afternoon. Peggy’s good friend was the director there, and he’d promised her a wonderful show of late spring/early summer plantings.

Although she didn’t feel like going out, Peggy knew if she didn’t, her parents would sit around all day, or worse, go to another mall. Since there was nothing she could do for Darmus, she figured she might as well go to the gardens. At least her father would enjoy it.

Peggy put on peacock-blue slacks and a matching tunic top she’d bought the last time she was in Atlanta. She’d been there with John at a law enforcement conference. John had encouraged her to buy the outfit, telling her how much he liked the color on her. They’d gone back to the hotel that rainy afternoon and made love on the big bed.

She put on a little pink lip gloss before she slipped her feet into sandals. That seemed a lifetime ago or longer. John was killed two weeks after they got back from Atlanta. It had been that long since she’d really
thought
about making love to a man, much less done it.

Not that she ever would again. She sighed. Steve stirred up all kinds of things inside her. But they didn’t seem to have that sort of relationship, or he didn’t think about her that way. Maybe it was the age difference. Or maybe some things were best left behind with youth.

She was about to go downstairs when her computer beeped. She hesitated. Her parents were waiting downstairs for her. She could always check her messages when she got back.

The computer beeped again. She walked back to it. Surely it wouldn’t take that long. She sat down in the chair at her desk and checked her email.

It was Nightflyer.
I thought you’d be back in touch with me by now for more information about your friend
.

I would. Normally. But there’s been nothing normal about the past few days
.

I can help. I have some information that might lead the police to a better suspect than Darmus
.

You can send it to me, and I’ll take it to them
.

It might be better if I try something different
.

There’s more to it than that, Nightrose. I’d like to arrange a meeting
.

Peggy sat back in her chair. He’d refused to meet with her before.
Why now? Why is this different than the other times?

Because there are some other things you should know. I don’t want to tell you those things in an email
.

What are you talking about?
Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
What things should I know?

I’ll meet you at Myers Park. Be there Tuesday night at midnight
.

But he was gone. She tried several times to IM him, but there was no response. Frustrated, she hit the side of the computer with the flat of her hand.

Almost immediately, a knock on her door followed. “Are you okay in there, Margaret?” Her father’s voice sounded strangely subdued.

She opened the door and called for Shakespeare, who was still lounging on her bed. “I’m fine. Just swatting at a fly.”

“Are you almost ready to go? If your mother has to wait around much longer, she’s likely to want to go shopping with Aunt Mayfield instead of to the garden. I don’t think my credit card can stand that.”

Peggy grabbed her matching peacock-blue hat and smiled at her father. Anger and frustration brewed beneath the curve of her lips, but she bit the emotions back. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Paul joined them before they could get out the front door. “Mind if I tag along?”

“Of course not!” his grandmother exclaimed, giving him a hug. “That would be wonderful!”

Since Aunt Mayfield and Cousin Melvin had decided to excuse themselves from the outing, the group was able to fit in Lilla and Ranson’s old Buick. They talked about the area, antiques, and animals. Peggy rode in the shotgun seat and told her father where to turn. The conversation eventually turned to Darmus and Luther and the scene at the funeral home yesterday.

“What makes the police think your friend’s brother was killed in the first place? Sounds to me like he died of natural causes,” Ranson remarked.

“I told them about the hyacinth I found in Luther’s pocket when I heard he died from a massive asthma attack,” Peggy answered.

“You stirred up a hornet’s nest,” her mother said.

“Okay,” Ranson agreed. “But did they think he might have been murdered
before
you told them that?”

“I don’t think they did.”

“I’m sure the only reason they’re considering it now are the circumstances,” Paul filled in. “Darmus and his brother faked his death. Then Luther turns up dead after a large block of money is given to Feed America. It’s pretty suspicious.”

Peggy’s father shook his head. “Let the poor man lie in peace. He’s gone now. Seems like that’s enough.”

“Only he didn’t want to be gone. Someone took that choice away from him,” Peggy replied. “He had whatever was left of his life in front of him. I had some disagreements with Luther, but he didn’t deserve to die.”

“I don’t see how the police will ever find out who gave him that flower,” her mother added. “It could have been anyone, couldn’t it?”

“That’s the problem a lot of times,” Paul explained. “But they’ll keep going over the evidence until something unusual turns up. The bad guy only gets to do the crime once. But we can go over everything for as long as we want to.”

Peggy thought about his words and about what Nightflyer said in his e-mail. She wondered what he had to say to her that required a face-to-face meeting. She definitely wouldn’t mention it to anyone else. They’d all be skulking in the shrubbery at the park.

But she was excited at the prospect of meeting him. She was sure he wanted to help when he could. He didn’t always tell her everything, which infuriated her, but he’d helped her with other situations when she couldn’t find answers. She wasn’t sure if she trusted him exactly, but he’d never done anything to make her think he would hurt her.

They finally reached Daniel Stowe Botanical Garden about an hour later. It would have been quicker if they weren’t constantly doing construction on the roads in and around Charlotte, but growth brought its own price.

Peggy and John had once spent many wonderful hours at the garden doing volunteer work. She thought it was at its finest this time of year. Her longtime friend, Doug Wurner, was the head gardener. He greeted them at the entrance, and she introduced him to her little group.

“Best put on some DEET.” Ranson handed Lilla the bottle. “Peggy told me they have some fine water gardens here, but that means plenty of mosquitoes, too. And you know how they like you, Mama.”

While they put on sunscreen and insect repellent, Peggy talked with Doug about what had been going on in the garden. She hadn’t been there since John died, and there was always something new being planted or added.

He told her about the work they’d done in the herb garden and the daylilies they had added. The lengthy drought had made things difficult. They compensated by watering daily, but it would take time and rain before everything recovered.

Doug took them to see the Visitor’s Pavilion and told them the story of how the early-twentieth-century stained glass dome came to be there above their heads. The dome, crafted in 1909 by a glass company also used by Tiffany, had crowned the First Baptist Church in Canton, Ohio, for many years. One of the Stowe garden designers found it for sale, and the favorite feature of the pavilion was put in place.

“I wish I had time to show you through the rest of the gardens,” Doug said with a smile and a glance at his watch. “But Peggy knows them almost as well as I do.”

He gave Peggy a quick kiss on the cheek and told her not to stay away so long again, then left them near a pretty bridge that crossed a small pond.

Peggy suggested they start the tour with one of the theme gardens. They chose the Cottage Garden as she told them about the 110 acres surrounding them while they inhaled the sweetly scented spring air.

“What are these?” Paul asked as they looked at some of the plants.

“Cleome pungens,”
Peggy answered with a smile. “Spider plant.”

“Like the one in my house?” her mother asked.

“A cousin. This one will get about five feet tall. They grow in pink, purple, and white.”

“They reseed themselves,” her father surmised, looking at the flower head.

“Yes. But they usually have to be resown around midsummer to replace the worn plants.”

They followed the half-mile wildflower trail and then sat beside a fountain to cool off. The sun was hot, even though the breeze was still cool. The sweet green of the newly budded plants would soon be lost to the deeper hues of mature growth.

“You’re quiet,” Paul remarked as they had a snack of blueberry muffins and tea. “Still thinking about Darmus?”

“Of course.” Peggy sipped her cup of cold, sweet tea. “I can’t get him out of my mind. I feel like I’ve failed him.”

“How?”

“I didn’t even realize he was having a problem. What kind of friend was I?”

“I don’t think he wanted you to know, Mom.”

“I know. That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Paul put his arm around her shoulders. “You can’t make everything right in the world, you know. Bad things happen sometimes.”

She smiled. “That’s a remarkably mature attitude.”

“And that’s the reason you should never have deep conversations with your mother.” Paul kissed her cheek, then moved away. “She always reminds you that you’re a child.”

“Are we headed toward the butterfly garden now?” Peggy’s father brushed bread crumbs from his hands.

“Yes.” Peggy got to her feet. “I’m ready.”

They spent another hour at the garden. By the time they got home, Lilla had to have a nap. Aunt Mayfield and Cousin Melvin were home from shopping and were making an early dinner for everyone. The smell of frying chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamy gravy filled the house.

Peggy decided to check in at the Potting Shed rather than face one of Aunt Mayfield’s heavy dinners and questions about why she was a vegetarian. Steve had left a message while she was gone, telling her he would be back home from his sheep run late that night and would see her the next day.

The doorbell rang as she was making her excuses to her aunt and cousin.

Paul answered the door. “Well, well.”

“Leave it alone,” Peggy heard Mai Sato, his ex-girlfriend, say. “I came to talk to your mother.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“What does that mean?”

Peggy took pity on her son, who was standing there (red as a rose since he’d inherited her complexion) in the foyer, glaring at the only woman he had ever really cared about. He obviously had no idea how to get himself out of the corner he’d put himself in. “Who is it, Paul?”

Before he could answer, Mai yelled out, “It’s me, Peggy. I’d come in, but this big ox is blocking my way!”

“Come into the library,” Peggy urged the girl, nudging Paul aside a little. “Never mind him. It’s good to see you.”

They went into the library, and Peggy closed the door behind them with a wry smile at her son, who was left staring after them.

Peggy sat in her favorite burgundy velvet chair and urged Mai to sit down, too. It wasn’t that long ago the young assistant medical examiner was at her house every day. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“This isn’t a social call,” Mai told her. “There’s some evidence the ME would like you to have a look at.”

“What kind of evidence?”

“It involves the hyacinth you gave him from Luther Appleby’s shirt pocket. He thought you might like to consider starting on that contract work the two of you talked about.”

Peggy felt a little thrill of excitement run through her. She was still a little uncertain about being a forensic botanist, even a part-time one. But she loved the idea of work that involved digging into the depths of what really separated one plant from another and looking at the vast array of botanical evolutions. She figured she could handle the dead bodies. “Let me get my coat.” They walked out into the foyer, where Paul and Peggy’s father were waiting. “I have to go out for a while,” she told them.