Lethal Lily (A Peggy Lee Garden Mystery)

by Joyce Lavene

She watched as the woman sobbed when a beautiful rosewood desk was taken to a truck that held other pieces of her furniture. There was nothing Peggy could do to help. It was doubtful that the woman had enough money to buy back her belongings since her lease hadn’t been paid in months.

  “Okay folks.” The manager drew the group away from the grieving woman. “We’re moving on to the next unit. Come this way.”

  Unit 34 was around the corner and down the lane. Peggy’s imagination wandered through all the other storage units as they passed. There could be anything inside the large and small units. Jewelry, clothes, shoes, household items. Harry had told her that he’d seen a man pull a forty-year old Mustang into one of the big units. What secrets could these cubbies hold?

  The manager waited for everyone to catch up before the auctioneer got in place with his battery-powered microphone and clipboard.

  A man standing beside Peggy was having a hard time breathing. He was a large man, way over six feet, with broad shoulders and chest. Despite the heat of the day, he was wearing a brown corduroy jacket. She listened to him wheezing before he brought out an inhaler and took a deep puff.

  Was this the same man who’d walked passed her when she and Harry were there?

  With a careful hand, she pretended to take a picture of the storage unit, but she had the camera on her phone faced toward her, instead of away. She turned it slightly to the side where he was standing and snapped a photo of the man’s face. It wasn’t very clear, but it might be enough to identify him.

  Maybe she was wrong. He might not be the man who’d passed her. Or he had some legitimate reason to be out there. In either case, no harm done. He didn’t know she’d taken his picture.

  Harry had told her that he thought people were following him. He thought it had been to get the files he had stored in this unit. Now that he was dead—probably murdered—his words didn’t sound so much like fantasy. But it seemed to her that it had been a mistake to kill him without securing whatever was inside.

  Unless the killer was there with them now.

  She surreptitiously stared at the other people waiting for the next auction. There were at least a dozen men and women. Any one of them could be Harry’s killer. She kept a close eye on the wheezing man.

  “What are my bids on this unit?” the auctioneer asked.

  “Five hundred dollars.” The wheezing man raised his hand first.

  The manager smiled.

  Peggy could tell that must be a great first bid, especially compared with the first unit. It could only go up from there.

  “Five hundred dollars,” the auctioneer called. “Do I hear five-fifty?”

  Peggy raised her hand. “Six hundred.”

  The auctioneer pointed his gavel at her. “Six hundred. Thank you. Do I hear six-fifty?”

  “Eight hundred.” The wheezing man seemed determined to have the unit. He glared at Peggy and stepped in front of her.

  “Nine hundred.” Peggy ignored him and bid again. She was glad the others in the group weren’t bidding too. Maybe it was too rich for their blood.

  “One thousand!” The wheezing man called out before the auctioneer could repeat Peggy’s bid, or ask for another.

  Sam folded his muscular arms across his wide chest. “Seriously?” he whispered to her. “How high are you prepared to go with this?”

  “Eleven-hundred,” Peggy called out with a lift of her chin, letting the wheezing man know that she wasn’t backing down.

  “Fifteen-hundred,” the wheezing man said loudly.

  The rest of the group was starting to mutter, waiting for the next bid. The manager was rubbing his hands together. Suddenly, auctioning this unit was exciting.

  “Sixteen-hundred.” Peggy held up her hand.

  “Seventeen-hundred,” came the wheezing man’s bid.

  She hoped the smaller bid meant he was running out of money. She was only prepared to go to two-thousand dollars.

  “Seventeen-fifty.” She flashed a cheeky grin at him.

  “Twenty-five-hundred dollars.” His flinty eyes dared her to bid any higher.

  Peggy wished she could shove that dare in his face, but she couldn’t go any higher. When the auctioneer pointed his gavel at her, she shook her head.

  “Twenty-five-hundred, going once.” The auctioneer paused, and stared at the crowd—especially Peggy. “Going twice? Sold to the man in the brown coat.”

  Bamboo

  Giant bamboos are the largest members of the grass family. Bamboo is also one of the fastest-growing plants in the world, with a unique rhizome-dependent system. High quality bamboo is said to be stronger than steel. The plants make wonderful fences, and deer don’t like to eat them!

  Chapter Eight

  Peggy didn’t like to lose.

  She ignored the smug look the wheezing man gave her. She’d done the best she could to secure Harry’s files. She’d hoped the wheezing man might open the unit after he won the bid, but instead, he went with the manager to pay for what he had and probably pick up the key. She wouldn’t get to see inside, as she had the unit with the furniture.

  “Sorry.” Sam studied the wheezing man as he walked away with the manager. “What could be so valuable in there that he’d be willing to pay so much?”

  “Maybe the same thing I’m looking for—only he wants to keep those files away from anyone searching for the truth.”

  Sam shrugged. “Or maybe he’s looking for some different truth. What’s in there, Peggy?”

  She explained about John’s files. “I don’t know if any of it is true, but I really wanted to find out. I need to get my car out of here before they auction it too.”

  “How are you going to do that?” Sam walked with her down the twists and turns between Unit 34 and her car.

  Peggy hadn’t realized how far she’d walked last night, probably because she’d been so intent on finding Harry.

  “Just drive it out, I guess.” Her tone was bitter. It was over. She might never know if what Harry had said about John’s death was true. It was disappointing, though there was nothing she could do about it, even if John had been killed because he was working with the FBI. John would still be dead. It wouldn’t bring him back.

  The truth about it seemed precious to her. She couldn’t explain it rationally. It had obsessed her since she’d first heard it.

  “Wow! Look at that!” Sam exclaimed as they passed a huge stand of dark green bamboo that had been planted as a buffer between the storage buildings and the main road. “This is the native bamboo I’m encouraging to grow at Sandra Mansfield’s house. It’s probably been here for ten years, at least, to be so thick. It must be twenty-feet tall!”

  “It can’t be cut down either since the state declared it an endangered species,” she said. “It’s beautiful.” She touched the tall, sturdy shoots, grateful for the distraction.

  “What are you hoping to gain by doing this anyway, Peggy?” Sam put his hand on her shoulder. “You already know John was murdered. What good would files detailing the whole thing be?”

  “They might not be any good at all,” she admitted. “Harry said he had some information pertaining to why John was killed and that it wasn’t simply a random act. I don’t know.”

  “He seems like he was kind of a shady character. Not really surprising, since Nightflyer set the two of you up.”

  Peggy glanced up at him impatiently.

  “What?” Sam grinned at her. “Come on. I don’t have to be a brain surgeon to see that Nightflyer is a little on the corrupt side. I’m sure you know it too. How many times has he gotten you into trouble?”

  “He knows things, Sam—things the rest of us don’t know.” She started walking toward her car again.

  “Well, if he knows that John’s death wasn’t what it seemed, why doesn’t he just come out and tell you? Why all these games?”

  “I don’t think Nightflyer knows exactly what happened to John.” She defended her online friend. “He set me up with Harry because Harry w
as part of what happened. There’s also the question about what happened to Harry’s wife.”

  Peggy used her keyless entry to open her car. Sam held the door open for her as she got inside.

  “All I’m saying is that I don’t think Nightflyer is the best place to get information. I’m sure Steve told you the same thing.”

  “And I expect that kind of thing from Steve. I wasn’t expecting it from you.”

  He nodded. “Sorry. I wanted to say it before anything else bad happens. I love you, Peggy. You’re like a second mother to me—besides being the only one crazy enough to let me help them run their garden business. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Peggy smiled, tears starting to her eyes. “I love you too, Sam. But I have to do what I can to find out what happened to John that night. He would’ve done the same for me.”

  “I know. I’ll meet you back at The Potting Shed later. Just be careful, huh?”

  “I will.”

  She watched him disappear between the storage units as he headed back to the parking lot by the gate to get the truck. He was such a dear man. She was lucky to have him working with her.

  But she still lost the contents of Unit 34. What was she going to do about that?

  All those uncomfortable conversations with Harry were for nothing if she didn’t find a way to see what was inside the unit. She looked at the wheezing man’s picture on her phone. This was one thing she had that no one else did. With any luck, she could run it through the police database and find out who he was.

  It suddenly struck her that she could find out exactly who he was and where he lived. All she had to do was get a look at the names and addresses on the sign-in sheet at the office. There weren’t that many people. She could look them up quickly until she found him.

  She pulled the car through the passageways between the buildings until she reached the office. The wheezing man was shaking hands with the grinning manager before they parted ways. The manager walked briskly back into the storage unit maze. The wheezing man got into a white, older model Cadillac and drove away.

  Peggy scavenged for a pen and paper to write down the license plate number. South Carolina CHS1212. She waited a little longer to make sure they were both gone before she parked her car and went into the office.

  She was prepared to come up with a story for whoever might be inside. No one was there. The paper with all the names and addresses was still on the desk. Peggy used her cell phone to take a picture of it. If she helped the police with the investigation into Harry’s death, she could coordinate the information on the paper with the license number.

  She left the clipboard and sign-in sheet on the desk, and glanced carefully outside before she stepped out the door. She was getting into her car again when the manager spotted her. This time he recognized her and started running toward the office.

  “Hey you! What were you doing in there? You’d better not come back here again. I’ll call the police.”

  Heart pounding, Peggy left the storage facility as quickly as she could. At least she got some information, even though she didn’t get the files. Her breathing slowed to normal once she didn’t hear any sirens or see any police cars following her.

  “Now, Mr. Wheezing Man.” She looked at his picture on her phone when she stopped for a red light. “Let’s see who you really are!”

  Firebush

  Also known as the hummingbird bush because the little birds can’t get enough of it. The red bush hails from Central, South, and North America. Firebush is known for its herbal properties since the small black berries are edible, and a salve is created from the crushed leaves to aid healing in skin lesions.

  Chapter Nine

  Once on the main road, Peggy pulled off at a convenience store, and took out her phone again. She gave Dr. Dorothy Beck, the medical examiner, a call.

  “Peggy! I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”

  “You could’ve called me,” Peggy said. “Did you get my message about Harry’s Fletcher’s death?”

  “I did. I suppose you’d like to work with us on that?”

  “I would. I’m fairly certain he was poisoned. It might not be botanical. It occurs to me that it could be a crime of opportunity.”

  “And that would mean?”

  “Maybe some chemical the killer found at the motel room, probably under the bathroom sink.”

  “Well, since you put it that way, please join us. If it’s not a botanical poison and you don’t want to stay, I’ll understand.”

  Peggy smiled. “Thanks, Dorothy. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  At least that went well. Peggy started the car and drove toward the morgue and medical examiner’s office. Being part of the ME’s investigation would open some doors for her that she couldn’t open by herself. It would also mean computer access into the police database.

  She knew Nightflyer might also be able to help her in finding Harry’s killer, but he was unreliable. It could be days before she heard back from him. She disagreed with Sam that he wasn’t trustworthy—he was outside the law, which made it difficult for him. Peggy believed Nightflyer was sincerely trying to help her.

  She got a call on the way across town. It was Paul. Her heart started beating faster when she thought Mai could have actually gone into labor.

  “Mom?” Paul began. “I want to ask you about something I heard today.”

  Mai wasn’t about to have the baby. “What’s that?”

  “I heard you were picked up last night and accused of breaking and entering. I also heard that you’re looking into Dad’s death. Was he really involved with the FBI? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

  There was an undertone of anger and hurt in his voice. Peggy didn’t want to make it worse. Honestly, police stations were as bad as beauty salons for gossip.

  “I haven’t found any real answers,” she told him carefully. “If I’d really learned something important, I would’ve told you. You know that. Right now, I’m just chasing ghosts.”

  “Was the dead man you found this morning involved? Who was he?”

  Peggy really didn’t want to answer his questions, but she knew she’d have to say something. Better to do it in person, she reasoned. It would make them both feel better.

  “Traffic is bad out here, Paul. Maybe we could meet for lunch and talk about this. I’m going to be at the morgue. All those food trucks are out there around noon. Maybe we could eat and talk.”

  “I’ll be there,” he promised.

  “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

  The phone call ended abruptly. She was only left with her son’s picture on the screen. He was already upset.

  Paul reminded her so much of John, even though he had her bright red hair, spring green eyes, and her temper. He had John’s nose and his smile. When he talked, it was like listening to John again. He had similar mannerisms to his father too. She thought of him as a nice pairing of everything good she and John had to offer.

  Paul had held on to his personal theory that his father’s death was something more than a domestic violence call gone bad. They’d argued more than once about it. If she’d listened to him sooner, finding the evidence she needed to prove what had really happened might have been easier.

  She knew he would welcome this new theory. What boy didn’t want his father to be a hero? She wished she wouldn’t have to give it to him half-baked. She wasn’t sure what he might do. There had been a time when she’d been worried that he might go after the man the police said had killed John.

  Peggy realized she had no choice but to tell him what she knew. She hoped he wouldn’t do anything foolish because of it. After John had died, Paul was all about vengeance and finding his father’s killer. That had gone away in time—although it had been enough to change Paul’s ambitions. He’d dropped out of school, where he’d been studying to be an architect, and joined the police academy.

  She knew her son’s emotions ran deep—especially on this subject. H
ers did too. It was too bad that Harry had danced around the answers until it was too late.

  She parked in the morgue parking lot, picked up her bag, and locked the car. The morning was turning hazy with the late summer heat. White clouds, mostly ozone, obscured the blue sky. Just walking from the car to the building brought on heavy breathing in the thick, moist air.

  It was obvious to her that the bushes decorating the front of the building had been recently pruned. It was also obvious that the person doing the pruning had no experience. The firebushes, azaleas, and holly had been brutally cut down to the dark, red soil. They’d be lucky if they survived the remainder of the summer heat.

  A few years back, there had been an uprising at one of the city council meetings over crape myrtle trees being pruned too far. The city had actually reprimanded the maintenance people who’d done it.

  Peggy thought they could all be a little more careful with their trimmers. This wasn’t like hair. A good pruning helped a plant. A bad one could kill it.

  The guard at the front door greeted her as she passed through the metal detector. It had been months since she’d been here, but Tom still remembered her name.

  “I’m surprised you remember me.” She smiled at him. “You see so many people go in and out each day.”

  “How could I forget the lady who gave me and my wife our first good trip to the beach? Having my son, Zac, chew on ginger root kept him from being carsick all the way to Myrtle Beach. We tell everyone about it now.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad the ginger worked so well. How is your son doing?”

  “Strong as a horse, like his dad.” The guard grinned. “You’re clear, Dr. Lee. Thanks again. Have a good day.”

  She walked down the long hall to the medical examiner’s offices and grabbed the white jacket with her nametag on it. She hoped there was some progress on Harry’s autopsy. Surely something would go her way that day.

  Dorothy called her to her office right away. Peggy said hello to some other workers in the hall. It seemed that everyone remembered her. It was probably silly on her part to think they wouldn’t. Sometimes she went months without working here. Crimes suspected to be committed with botanical poisons were rare.