Fruit of the Poisoned Tree plgm-2 Read online

  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.”

  16

  Rabbit’s Foot Fern

  Botanical: Davallia fejeensis

  Family: Davalliaceae

  This plant gets its common name from the stiff, hairy rhizomes that grow on it. It is native to Fiji but named botanically for Swiss botanist, Edmond Davall. Avoid direct sun! This plant is nonflowering. Popular as a houseplant worldwide.

  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 an
d 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.

  “You lucked out with your friend,” Emil said, watching the news as Peggy was getting her things together. “Looks like they got some other people in mind now for those murders.”

  She agreed with him and thanked him for the use of his shop as she always did. She didn’t gossip with him about anything that had happened. It was still too fresh, too painful for her to do anything but mull it over in her mind.

  A shipment of hyacinths, daffodils, and tulips waited for her at the Potting Shed. Their bright colors and sweet smells brought the heart of spring into the shop. It was enough to lift her spirits, even though she sold out by midafternoon.

  Peggy closed up the shop after a flurry of last-minute phone orders for plants and services. She looked at her spreadsheet for February with satisfaction. The Potting Shed was doing all right. It still terrified her sometimes to be in business for herself. A lifetime of regular paychecks left her unprepared for the fitful irregularities of money a shopkeeper could expect.

  Business was slow after Christmas, but things were starting to pick up. If the trend continued, she would definitely give up her place at Queens. It was going to take some faith and courage, but she felt it was the right thing to do. The Potting Shed was getting more and more demanding. She didn’t want to shortchange her students either. It had always been her goal to narrow her focus down to her botanical projects and the shop. Maybe spring would be the right time.

  Peggy spoke with Beth for a few minutes before leaving the shop. She was glad to hear Beth was as disgusted by Gary Rusch’s advances as she was. “I didn’t want to mention it. I thought maybe . . . but it was none of my business. Park did fool around with Cindy after all.”

  “Please!” Beth begged, “Give me credit for good taste! If I was going to fool around, it wouldn’t be with him. And it wouldn’t be on the heels of my husband’s death. I loved Park even though he was unfaithful. That’s why I took him back. I really wanted our marriage to work.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to think.”

  “I didn’t either,” Beth admitted. “And I was scared at first to say anything. But I warned him off. There won’t be anymore of that going on!”

  Peggy was glad to hear it. When Beth said she had to go, Peggy put the phone down feeling better about her friend. She bundled up and went out into the night.

  With cold winds blowing down the dark streets of Charlotte, there were few people lingering after work uptown. The smell of fresh bread baking told her someone was working in one of the restaurants. But all she could see were empty windows and closed doors as she rode past the buildings between her and home. She kept her head down against the biting wind and pedaled as fast as she could.

  Shakespeare was barking, and the telephone was ringing inside the house as she stepped up to the door with her mail in hand. She shivered as she put the key in the lock. For just a moment, she wondered if she’d find the house ransacked again. But Isabelle’s killer was behind bars. She was just being paranoid.

  She forced herself to finish the act of opening her front door. Her emotional side argued with her logical side. She couldn’t go on standing there, dreading what she might find. And the alarm was set. No one was in there. The house had to be as she left it.

  With the door open, the alarm system added its warning sound to the clamor of phone and dog. Peggy quickly turned off the alarm and closed the door behind her. She reached the phone and answered it breathlessly. “Hello?”

  “Hello, sweet Pea! We haven’t heard from you in a while. Thought I’d give you a call and see what’s going on up there in the big city.”

  Peggy dropped her backpack on the table and collapsed into a chair near the door. “Hello, Daddy. I’m doing fine. Staying busy. How’s Mama?”

  “She’s doing good. Had that surgery on her ankle a few weeks back. She’s been a little ornery, but I just make her stay out on the porch when she gets that way. Got a good crop of broccoli and some sweet potatoes for you. I’ll bring ’em up when we come.”

  “When you come?” Peggy sat up and opened her eyes. “Are you coming to visit?”

  “Of course. You can’t seem to find the time to get down here. So even though Aunt Rachel and Uncle Stripey can’t make it, Mama and I and Cousin Melvin and Aunt Mayfield are coming up to see you in April.”

  “What about planting, Daddy? Won’t you need to plant in April?”

  “I took care of that, angel. I hired a few boys to help me out this year. I’ll get them started at the first of the month, so by mid-April we should be able to spend a few weeks up there with you. You’ll have to give your mama and Aunt Mayfield a place on the ground floor of that big old house of yours. Neither one of them can get up those grand stairs. But otherwise, nothing special. I know you have grits in your cupboard. That’s all we need. Well, maybe some chicken would be nice, too. But we could always visit the Colonel for that!”

  Peggy digested the information. She panicked just knowing her parents were coming. They hadn’t been there since John’s funeral. She always tried to be the one to visit them.

  Aunt Mayfield was a difficult, complaining woman at best. Cousin Melvin had sleep apnea and fell asleep at dinner, in the bath, and during conversations. He snored loudly enough to be heard from one end of the house to another, and she didn’t even want to think about how bad his feet smelled.

  “Are you still there, pumpkin?”

  “I’m here, Daddy. That sounds great. Maybe Paul can get some time off, and we can all do some sightseeing or something.” She was careful to keep any doubt out of her voice. At least this way she had time to prepare for them coming.

  “Don’t put yourself out, Margaret. We’re just coming to see you and Paul. Nothing fancy. What’s that sound?”

  Peggy listened to Shakespeare’s alternate barking and howling. “That’s my dog. He’s waiting for his supper.”

  “Got yourself a beagle? They make a good hunting dog. You remember Maisy. She could track anything. Remember that time your mama lost her car keys? Maisy found them.”

  “Shakespeare is a Great Dane, Daddy. He doesn’t track much.”

  “Great Dane, huh? What kind of name is that? No wonder he doesn’t track. You have to give him a proper name for a hunting dog. Call him Skippy or Yeller. Then he’ll track for you.”

  She sighed. “I don’t want him to track anything, Daddy.”

  “He’s not gonna be much of a hunting dog if he can’t track, Margaret.”

  “I don’t really want to take
him hunting. I don’t hunt. I’m a vegetarian, remember, Daddy?”

  “Thought you’d grown out of that by now. Oh well. It still wouldn’t hurt you to give that dog a decent name.”

  Peggy didn’t argue with him. “I’m looking forward to seeing you and Mama anyway. We’ll have a good time while you’re here.”

  “Okay then. I’ll talk to you later. Give Paul a hug for us.”

  “I will. Kiss Mama for me. Bye, Daddy.” She put down the phone and threw herself back in the chair. Her family was coming up to see her. The house was dirty. They hated Charlotte. She knew they’d try to convince her to come back home with them as they had after John’s death. And what about Steve? They were bound to notice that he was younger than her. And what would they think about the Potting Shed?

  Peggy got to her feet and went to rescue Shakespeare. She took him out for a walk, then fed him and made a grilled cheese sandwich for herself. He still refused to eat. He lay down beside his food and groaned, looking up at her every few minutes. She tried to get him to eat by offering individual pieces of food. He covered his eyes with his paws.

  Glad that he had another obedience class tomorrow, Peggy sat down at the kitchen table to eat her sandwich and drink her sassafras tea. She made it with plenty of sugar and milk until it was pink rather than red. It was the way her mother made it when Peggy was growing up. That thought brought on a whole group of issues she’d have to face when her parents came to visit.

  Refusing to face those problems right away, Peggy watched the news for a while, then went upstairs to change clothes and check on her plants. Her Antares water lily was barely alive. She wasn’t sure if it was going to survive. Her experiment with the strawberries was completely destroyed, and she had mites on all of her plants. She was probably going to have to spray for them since she couldn’t use complementary planting to control them in that environment.

  Sighing over the loss of time and her companions, she spent two hours trying to straighten up the mess and check on all of her plants. The frog helped himself to some of the mites, and she thanked him. “If I had a few more like you, I could clean them up pretty easy.”