Poisoned Petals (30 page)

“Maybe I’ll leave now.” Hunter got up off the grassy slope. “It was nice until
you
got here. Let me know if I can do anything to help, Peggy.”

“Good,” Sam said. “Anything to keep you and the extra dirt out of our hair.”

When Hunter was gone, Sam started shoveling dirt in to cover the root balls on the rosebush Steve had just planted. “You don’t really think Holles had anything to do with what happened to Luther, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Peggy admitted. “And maybe Hunter had the right idea. Maybe what happened has nothing to do with Feed America. What if I’ve been looking so hard in one direction that I’ve missed the real answer?”

“But what is the real answer?” Steve questioned.

“I don’t know yet.” Peggy placed the white mother and child statue in a sunny place near the last gardenia as Denise suggested. “But it’s there. I just have to find it.”

When the garden was done, Denise thanked them all. “I’d like to do something to help you with Darmus, Peggy.”

“Thank you, but there’s not much that can be done.” When was she going to learn not to involve strangers in her quest for the truth?

“How about if I could get you into the jail to see your friend and ask him a few questions?”

Ranson smiled. “Is your husband a lawyer or a judge?”

“Not my husband.” Denise smiled and took off her gardening gloves. “I’ve been a circuit court judge for sixteen years. I think I could get you in there.”

Peggy was astounded. “Thank you. That would be great!”

“I’ll set it up and give you a call. Don’t forget to find a pretty white fountain for me.”

“I won’t,” Peggy promised. “I’ll let you know when I have one for you to look at.”

Peggy went home to shower and change. She’d promised to spend some time with her mother and Aunt Mayfield after checking in on the Potting Shed. They were going to the Mint Museum to look at a quilt display.

It was a difficult promise to keep when what she really wanted to do was spend all her time trying to find out what happened to Luther and Darmus. She kept going over it in her mind as Aunt Mayfield and her mother remarked on the green squares in one quilt and the yellow triangles in another. She was the first to admit she didn’t know much about textiles. They were gorgeous to look at, but when it came to sewing, she was all thumbs.

“Look at the color in that one, Margaret.” Aunt Mayfield nudged her when she wasn’t paying enough attention. “Have you ever seen the like?”

“It’s not as good as Maw-Maw’s,” Lilla answered. “Now
she
knew how to make a quilt! Made it in half the time it takes most people, too!”

“That woman could do anything,” Aunt Mayfield agreed with a shake of her glossy brown curls.

Peggy looked at the quilt that hung on the wall in the museum. It was supposed to resemble watermelon slices, green outside, red inside, thick with black seeds. The slices were turned all different ways, connecting in a pattern that was probably difficult to make. She had a hard time just looking at it. But then she never cared much for abstract art.

The repetitive pattern made her think about other things, too. Everything was repeated in the universe. It was a scientific fact. Patterns were what made meteorology, biology, and astronomy work. They showed people what to expect in a series of seemingly random events.

There was a pattern that was happening in Darmus’s life right now. Every step was following it. It should be possible to anticipate the next step. If she could just see what the pattern was!

“Margaret?” Her mother brought her attention back to them. “Aunt Mayfield and I would love to go to that ice cream place Sam was telling us about. The one with the really thick milkshakes.”

“MaggieMoo’s. All right.” Peggy glanced at her watch. She had enough time to do that and then go to the Potting Shed to close up for the night. Darmus was getting lost in the shuffle of events that were making up the pattern of
her
life right now. It couldn’t be helped. She was only one woman in search of the truth.

MaggieMoo’s ice cream parlor was crowded, like usual. Peggy had to insist they get their milkshakes to go so she could drive them home. Although she’d promised Selena she’d be there by five, she was already running late. Honestly, she didn’t know why the poor girl put up with her abuse, bless her heart!

Her mother and Aunt Mayfield were a little put out, but they drank their triple-thick shakes in the car without complaint. Peggy felt sure their silence was mostly due to the big straws in their mouths. They were too busy sucking to voice their grievances.

Peggy had to drop them off at the house without going in. As she turned to back out of the drive, she noticed stiff muscles in places she wasn’t used to having them. It was the white garden. She wasn’t used to digging, hoeing, and planting.
It was something more, too
. Peggy smiled at the recollection of that morning at Steve’s, which started so badly but ended so well.

But now wasn’t the time to daydream, she reminded herself as she tried to maneuver down Providence Road in heavy Charlotte traffic. It was already ten after five. She deserved to have Selena quit on her for her carelessness. She didn’t know what had happened to her. She was always on time when John was alive. But maybe that was because of John and not her. Funny how the lines between people could get blurred after spending so many years together.

She finally reached Brevard Court and parked her truck behind the Potting Shed. As she started to run inside, she realized her legs were refusing to oblige. Grimacing, she walked slowly up the back stairs, with all of her poor abused body complaining it needed a nice, long, hot bath if she wanted to keep going at her usual frantic pace.

Selena was sitting behind the counter, getting receipts together and patiently checking out stock lists to be sure they matched what she’d sold that day.

“I’m so sorry,” Peggy said, putting down her pocketbook. “Time got away from me.”

“It’s okay.” Selena sighed. “You’re so lucky to have a life. I wish I had one.”

Peggy realized she was in for one of Selena’s sulks. But she figured she deserved it. She’d left her alone all day. “What’s wrong?”

Selena sighed again. “People love you, Peggy. They do things for you. No one loves me. No one does anything for me. They barely know I exist.”

“I think you need a night out with some friends.” Peggy shooed her out from behind the counter. “Put your sandals on and call a few girlfriends. I want to treat you for all the extra things you’ve done for me lately.”

Selena paused in mid-sulk. “Really?”

“Really.” Peggy took out her wallet and gave Selena a handful of bills. “Will this be enough?”

“I’ll say!” Selena’s eyes got big as she accepted the cash. “Thank you, Peggy! You’re the best.”

Peggy hugged her. “No, sweetie. You are! Go out and have a good time. Thanks for all the extra hours you’ve done.”

“Not a prob! Bye. See you later.” Selena left with her cell phone pressed against her ear.

When she was gone, Peggy straightened up the store and counted the day’s receipts. She locked up and turned off the lights. Then she sat down in the rocking chair and considered everything that had happened. She would only get one chance to talk to Darmus in jail. She had to make the most of it.

But what were the right questions to ask? Unless Darmus was out of his head again, he turned himself in for some good reason. He was a logical man, but he could be stubborn in his beliefs. If he truly believed there was a good reason for telling the police he was guilty, he’d do it. But what was his motive? What was more important to him than his freedom?

IN THE MORNING, Peggy dressed in a drab-colored suit and went to meet Denise Turnbrell,
Judge
Denise Turnbrell.

Denise had called to tell Peggy she had a pass for her to get into the county jail. She met Peggy on the courthouse stairs, not looking like the same woman who’d wanted to plant a white garden for her mother. In her black suit with her brown/gray streaked hair pulled back in a tidy chignon, she looked elegant and aloof.

Denise hugged Peggy and smiled. “I hope this helps. Did you think of anything you might have missed?”

“I wish I had,” Peggy confessed. “But the ideas keep whirling around in my head. They don’t make much sense. I hope when I talk to Darmus, they will.”

“Good luck.” Denise glanced around them as though someone might be listening. “Keep me posted.”

“Thank you.” Peggy squeezed her hand. “I will.”

Denise had turned out to be an unexpected ally. Peggy walked to the county jail, glancing at some orchids a man was selling on the street corner. They were in poor condition, probably because they didn’t like being out in the elements. Orchids were finicky plants. If it was too hot or too cold, too wet or too dry, they would start looking scrubby. These plants were way past scrubby. Yet a man in a brown business suit stopped to look at one.

“Excuse me, sir,” Peggy interrupted the transaction. “Those orchids will be lucky to live another day. They haven’t been well taken care of.”

“Who are you?” the seller asked with a sneer. “Plant police?”

“No,” she replied. “Just a concerned plant owner.”

“Go away!” The little man behind the orchid stand shooed her. “We don’t need you here.”

“Don’t worry.” The young man in the brown suit turned to smile at her. “I was only looking at them to say the same thing. How are you, Professor Lee?”

It was Fletcher Davis, a friend of Darmus’s from a radical ecological group. Peggy wasn’t sure if she was happy to see him or not. He was a little off the wall. “Hello, Fletcher. How are you?”

He held up his briefcase. “A changed man. I figured out I could better affect the policies of the government from the inside. I’m a lobbyist now. How’s Darmus? I haven’t talked to him since I was here last. I was going to go and see him, but I’m only in town for a few hours.”

Peggy shook her head. “He’s in a bad position, Fletcher.” She explained about the missing money and Luther’s death. “He confessed to killing him, but I know he’s not guilty.”

“No doubt.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time, but I might be able to shed some light on this for you. Would you like to have a cup of tea with me?”

Wondering what in the world Fletcher knew, Peggy followed him into a coffee shop where they both ordered chai tea and sat at a small table well away from the other patrons. The sun shone in through the tall, hazy window, glinting off the Hearst building tower.

“Darmus was approached by his ex-wife for money when I was last working with him here.” Fletcher stirred honey into his tea. “She said she needed it for their son. I never even knew he’d been married.”

Peggy was too surprised to drink her tea. “Did he give her money?”

“Yes. I don’t know where he got it, but I saw him give her a few thousand dollars. She counted it while we stood there like she was afraid he was shortchanging her.”

It had to be Rosie. Did Darmus take money from Feed America to give her? “When was that, Fletcher?”

“About three months ago, I guess. If Darmus took money from the group, it was for her.”

That would make sense. It was about three months ago that Darmus started acting strangely. If he knew about Rosie and Abekeni, she wouldn’t put anything past him. He was a passionate man. What he felt, he felt deeply.

But if Rosie had known about what was happening with Darmus, why the elaborate charade when she went to tell her? And why pretend to
suddenly
come back into his life?

What would Rosie gain by influencing Darmus to leave Feed America? If she was looking for cash, it was a bad move. And Holles was always destined to take over the group.
No!

She immediately looked up at Fletcher. “Luther was the one who was supposed to take over Feed America. As close as Darmus was to Holles, he always had Luther in mind.”

“And now Luther’s dead.” Fletcher shrugged. “You’re the crime solver. I thought you should know.” He glanced at his watch again. “I have to go. Please tell Darmus I’m thinking about him. Good luck, Professor Lee.”

“Thank you,” she replied absently, lost in playing back everything that had happened to Darmus in the past few months. When she looked up again, Fletcher was gone. Peggy wasted no time in going to the jail and confronting Darmus.

The Mecklenburg County Jail was clean and modern. It smelled of antiseptic and a peculiar scent that she recalled from her previous visits. She thought of it as human beings closed in together for too long. A musty, animal smell.