Fruit of the Poisoned Tree plgm-2 Read online

  There was still no word from Nightflyer. She put Shakespeare back in the laundry room despite his pitiful look and whining. She reminded him that it was his own fault. Maybe next time he’d behave better with Rue and learn something.

  Steve called her on her way to the Potting Shed. She told him what happened at the bail hearing and afterward with Darmus. He offered to take her to Beth’s after the shop closed that evening. Peggy agreed quickly as she raced her bike around a car that was looking for someplace to park.

  She reached the Potting Shed only a few minutes before the city was hammered by heavy rain. Shoppers hurried to shelter, some running in from the courtyard to stand near the door and wait for the shower to pass. “Hi Selena! How’s business?”

  “It’s been good,” her assistant told her. “It’ll probably be slow from here on in with the rain. Why doesn’t it ever rain like this when I’m working?”

  “Weren’t we just concerned about not having enough customers?” Peggy asked, checking the bills and catalogs that came in the mail.

  “Yeah, but they could come in when you’re here to prove how well we’re doing.” Selena picked up her book bag and got ready to leave. “Sam and Keeley called in from that new mall over off of Harris Boulevard. They said it’s been raining there for the past two hours. They’re not getting anything done, so they’re coming in.”

  “Okay. The mall will have to wait.” Peggy sighed, hoping they didn’t get backed up. As they inched closer to spring, more work was likely to come in. She might even have to hire another crew this year to help them with the landscaping. “I’ll see you later. Thanks for holding down the fort.”

  Not wasting any time, Peggy gave out free catalogs to the trapped shoppers. She didn’t recognize them as regulars and decided it was a good time to promote. She was surprised when Al ran in out of the downpour, his jacket pulled over his head.

  “Peggy.” He nodded to her as he took the jacket off. The look on his face reminded her of a child getting caught doing something silly. “I got your messages and thought I’d stop by.”

  “Would you like some hot tea?” she asked, taking out the hot plate and the kettle for herself.

  “Sure. That would be great.” He glanced at the shoppers who were huddled near the door. “A captive audience, huh?”

  “Something like that. I’m sure Emil would’ve liked them more. People are more apt to buy pastries and coffee while they’re waiting than bulbs and shovels.”

  He laughed. “Peggy, you’re amazing! I know your schedule. Where do you find time to examine honey between teaching and pushing shovels on unsuspecting shoppers?”

  “There’s always time to do the things that are important to us.” She smiled. “John taught me that.”

  “Okay. I’m a captive audience, too. Tell me what you know about the honey.”

  “And a young man named Fletcher Davis.”

  “Okay.” Al got comfortable in the rocking chair. “Let’s have it.”

  14

  Horse Chestnut

  Botanical: Aesculus hippocastanum

  Family: N.O. Sapindaceae

  This is part of the buckeye family of trees, native to many parts of North America. Chestnuts are thought to bring luck when carried in the pocket, especially sexual fortune. All parts of the horse chestnut contain the poison esculin, which has been used to make rat poison.

  “SO FOUR PEOPLE WERE poisoned?” Hunter raised her eyebrows. “Maybe by the same person?”

  “Maybe,” Peggy cautiously agreed. “But you have to remember, I don’t have all the data in yet. Mr. Hollings’s poison has been identified. The other two haven’t been. But his jar of honey came from a different source. That makes it more difficult to trace, definitely more difficult to link to Park’s poisoning.”

  “But that’s good for my case, right?” Beth sat in her colorful sitting room and looked hopefully at the other two women with her. “I mean, this proves I didn’t kill Park, doesn’t it? I’m clear of that anyway.”

  “Absolutely!” Hunter was emphatic. “Having this information can make all the difference.”

  Peggy wasn’t as sure. “It’s too early to tell, Beth. We haven’t made the connection yet between Park and the other three men. And there are still the charges against you for Isabelle’s death. She wasn’t killed with honey. And that B in her own blood was pretty convincing. That isn’t going to go away, no matter what we find out about Park’s death.”

  Beth frowned, the movement puckering her forehead. “That’s true. What can we do about that?”

  “We’ll have to find out who killed Isabelle.” Hunter closed her notebook and zipped it shut. “But let’s be happy with any victory right now. The DA is saying you killed Isabelle because you killed your husband. Taking away your motive to kill her weakens the basis of the second charge.”

  “Why would someone want to kill Isabelle?” Peggy glanced at them. The room was a little too warm with the fire in the hearth blazing brightly. The house seemed too quiet, too empty around them. But she was glad Foxx and Reddman had a place to get away from what was happening.

  She couldn’t imagine how Beth was coping with the empty house, but the DA had insisted she had to stay in her own home and not with Peggy. It didn’t make any sense to her, but Hunter’s arguments had been tossed aside like last summer’s tomatoes. “I mean, besides the obvious reasons. I assume someone would’ve killed her years ago if it was because she was a mean, arrogant old lady. Why kill her now, so close on the heels of Park’s death?”

  Beth shrugged and burrowed more deeply into her amber-colored shawl. The bright red chair made her look smaller, paler. Her dark hair was loose on her shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it. I haven’t thought about anything else the last two days. Isabelle was harmless. Maybe she was annoying, but surely no one would kill her for that.”

  “Maybe it was unrelated.” Hunter looked at them as she ramped up her thoughts. “Maybe whoever did this was going to rob her. They heard about her being alone when the press talked about Park’s death. It made her a target. They didn’t mean to kill her. It was an accident. Then after it was over, they grabbed a few trinkets, one of them being the dragon’s head from her walking stick, and ran.”

  “As much as I’d like to believe that,” Peggy said, “it’s too coincidental. No one is going to believe Park died under suspicious circumstances, then his mother was attacked and wrote a B in her blood while she was dying, but Beth wasn’t involved. She’s my friend and I know she didn’t do anything wrong, but I don’t buy it. Besides, the police didn’t find anything missing except the dragon’s head. While that might be valuable, I’m sure she had jewelry and cash somewhere, too.”

  “Then we have to find the killer’s motivation.” Hunter got to her feet and paced the room. “Why would someone kill Isabelle? At least in relation to Park’s death.”

  “Maybe she knew something about Park’s death.” Peggy shrugged. “Maybe she was involved with the killer in some way.”

  Beth was horrified. “There’s no way Isabelle would have helped anyone kill Park. He meant everything to her.”

  “I’m not saying she knowingly did something,” Peggy corrected. “But she might not have realized what was happening.”

  Hunter nodded. “Like what?”

  “Maybe if we understood why someone gave Park poisoned honey, we’d understand why Isabelle was killed.” Peggy shifted in her chair.

  “Why not give Isabelle poisoned honey, too?” Beth questioned.

  “Maybe she wasn’t as easy to get to as Park with that basket at the hotel.” Hunter stopped pacing. “Let’s say it was this man from the environmental group who wanted to kill Park because of the estuary issue. If he’s here in Charlotte, he had opportunity to kill Isabelle, too.”

  “But why would he?” Peggy queried. “She didn’t have anything to do with the law firm representing the oil company.”

  “What about Alice then?” Hunter changed suspects.
“She obviously didn’t like the old lady.”

  “But why would she kill Park?” Beth wondered with a cry in her voice. “He was always generous with her.”

  Hunter shrugged, her forehead furrowed. “To torture Isabelle before she killed her?”

  Peggy could see from the look on Beth’s face that this conversation was torturing her. Besides, they were just going around in circles. There was some piece missing in the puzzle. Something they weren’t taking into consideration. “It’s late.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go. I can only imagine what trouble Shakespeare has managed to get into. We’ll have to keep thinking about this and try to come up with some other answers that make sense. It would be nice if we could find the dragon’s head. That might give us Isabelle’s killer.”

  Beth rose lightly to her feet. “I appreciate you coming anyway. Steve, too. I’ll try to think of anything that might relate to this. Right now, my brain is on overload. I just need to sleep for a while.”

  The doorbell rang as Peggy was going to get Steve out of the kitchen. She tried to get him to sit with them, but he said he felt the three women needed the time together alone. “Ready to go?” she asked as Beth answered the door.

  Steve shut off the small TV on the counter. “Yes! Thank God you came for me. I hate football.”

  She laughed. “I’m sorry. Beth said she was having some trouble with her cable. She can only get ESPN. Thank you for waiting for me anyway.”

  “Did you get everything sorted out?” he asked as they walked out of the kitchen.

  “No,” she answered briefly before they reached the others. “I wish we’d been able to come up with any answers for what’s happened. We just can’t figure it out. And everything points to Beth.”

  David was standing in the hall with Beth and Hunter. He had his arm draped casually around Hunter’s shoulders . . . after almost knocking over the fern by the door. “We’re getting David caught up with what we discussed tonight,” Beth told her.

  “I wish I could’ve been here, but I’m doing extra work until we can get in a new person at the firm.” He glanced up at Beth and frowned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Beth put her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about it. I know life goes on. I can’t hide from that.”

  Hunter slipped her hand through David’s arm. “I suppose we should get going. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Peggy. If you come up with anything else, let me know.”

  Peggy smiled. “I will.” It was good to see Hunter with someone in her life so she didn’t have to depend on Sam for companionship. “Good night, Beth. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. If you need me for anything, call.”

  “That goes for us, too,” David told her.

  “We’ll be prepping for the trial,” Hunter said. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Beth. We have a lot to do.”

  Steve and Peggy walked out of the house behind Hunter and David. Steve nodded at the couple, his voice a murmur near Peggy’s ear. “That happened pretty quickly, didn’t it?”

  She glanced at him and smiled. “Some people said that about us, you know. I guess all relationships don’t have to take years to develop.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” He opened the door to the Vue for her. “What’s next with Beth?”

  She explained everything they talked about in the tiny sitting room. Maybe he’d be able to make some sense of it. “We have to find out who killed Isabelle. Whoever it was wanted to throw suspicion on Beth. If we find that person, I think we’ve found the person responsible for Park’s death as well.”

  “You don’t think the poisoned honey was accidental? How could people control what plants their bees get honey from anyway?”

  “Beekeepers are more careful than that,” she told him. “No good beekeeper would allow this to happen. They know how far their bees fly, and they’re careful about what’s allowed to grow in that area.”

  “But why would someone want to kill Park and his mother?”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t been able to think of a single reason. I considered his ex-wife. But even if she hated Park enough to kill him, what reason would she have to kill Isabelle? The two of them got along like mud and flies. She was Isabelle’s choice for Park.”

  “What about money as a motive?” he suggested. “Will anyone strike it rich from this besides Beth?”

  “I suppose we can assume Isabelle didn’t have time to change her will after Park’s death. That probably means that everything she had went to Park.”

  “Which means it goes to Beth.”

  She nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Okay. What about the housekeeper?” Steve questioned. “She had the opportunity to poison Park and kill the mother.”

  “But what would she gain?”

  “Maybe just satisfaction.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. But she makes more sense as a suspect than your environmental leader from Philadelphia. I can see him killing Park. But he probably didn’t even know his mother.”

  “I don’t know. My brain feels like it’s full of mush.” Peggy told him about the relationship she noticed between Gary Rusch and Beth.

  “Do you think it relates to what happened?” he queried. “Have you said anything to her about it?”

  “Not yet,” she confessed. “Some things even I’m reluctant to bring up.”

  “You mean you’d rather not know,” he guessed. “I don’t blame you.”

  Peggy’s cell phone rang. It was Paul. “How far are you from the house?” he asked.

  “Only a few minutes. Why?” She glanced at Steve as he turned the Vue from Providence Road to Queens Road.

  “They called me from burglary about twenty minutes ago,” Paul told her. “Someone broke into the house.”

  “We’ll be right there.” Peggy’s heart raced as she closed her cell phone. “Someone broke into my house.”

  “Was anything taken? Did they catch who did it?” Steve drove a little faster down the empty street.

  “I don’t know yet. Paul’s there.” She looked out at the houses that lined the street. “I should’ve set the alarm.” She thought about Shakespeare, locked in the laundry room, and sat forward. “Can we go any faster?”

  They parked on the road. There was no way to get in the drive through the bevy of police and crime scene vehicles. It looked as though every light was on in the house. Peggy pushed open the car door and ran up through the wet grass.

  Her neighbor, Clarice, and her apricot poodle, Poopsie, met her halfway to the house. “Oh Peggy! Imagine something like this happening here. In this neighborhood. What’s the world coming to? I’m so sorry. I hope all of your valuables were insured.”

  Peggy brushed by her without a word, focused on the house. Steve smiled at the woman whose hair matched the color of her poodle and patted Poopsie’s head as he ran after Peggy. Clarice continued to fret as she followed the two of them.

  “Mom!” Paul waited for her at the front door. “I know this looks bad, but it could’ve been worse. These home invasions can be dangerous, too. Thank God you weren’t here.”

  “What about Shakespeare?” Peggy asked immediately as she continued through the house toward the kitchen. She ignored his attempts to soften the blow for her, focused on her concern for the dog. “Have you seen him?”

  “No.” Paul shook his head. “I heard him when we first got here. He’s here somewhere. Hello, Steve.”

  “Hi, Paul.” Steve kept up with Peggy’s frantic pace.

  “I thought she’d be worried about the antiques or her jewelry.” Paul shrugged. “Go figure.”

  “Your mother’s not an ordinary person,” Steve explained with a grin.

  “You noticed that, huh? I thought I’d learned to live with it. But she always manages to surprise me.”

  Peggy rushed by them and finally reached the kitchen, skirting the small groups of crime scene people rummaging through her house. She opened the laundry room door, and Shakespeare jumped down from the top of the dryer. Dr
opping to her knees, she threw her arms around his broad neck. “Thank goodness you’re all right.” She looked around the small room. He’d knocked over detergent and fabric softener, almost made his way through the wall near the door in his quest to get at the person who broke into the house. “I wish you could talk. You probably know who did this, don’t you?”

  The dog wagged his tail and licked her face, almost twisting his body around her as she stroked his head and back. She apologized to him for leaving him in the laundry room, even though it may have saved his life.

  Peggy got to her feet. “I guess you might as well come out. There’s not much that hasn’t been damaged out here.”

  “If you could get us the insurance list you keep in case of fire,” Paul said awkwardly. “I’ve got Crime Scene looking for whatever they can find that might help. There may be some fingerprints or some other DNA evidence that was left behind. I don’t think professionals were responsible for this. You didn’t set the alarm, did you?”

  “No.” Peggy was embarrassed by her lack of responsibility. It wasn’t that she forgot to set the alarm. It was easier not to set it. No one bothered houses on Queens Road. She couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had a break-in. “Have you noticed anything specific being gone?”

  “Just a few things.” Paul shrugged. “And I’m not sure if anything was taken. There must’ve been more than one of them. The place is a mess.”

  “Have you gone in the basement?”

  “Yeah.” He looked away. “You aren’t going to like it.”

  Steve walked with her into the basement, Shakespeare staying a sedate step behind them. Paul excused himself, not wanting to see the look on his mother’s face when she realized how much of her work was ruined.

  The pond was emptied. Plants and dirt were scattered everywhere. The container that was keeping the thrips and spider mites in the area with the strawberries was tossed aside. Even the plants themselves were torn up and tossed on the floor. The red berries were crushed. The French doors going to the backyard were smashed and left open to the cold night outside.