Lethal Lily (A Peggy Lee Garden Mystery)

by Joyce Lavene

  The attendant she’d spoken to on the phone was a young man who seemed overly worried about losing his job. He made copies of Peggy’s driver’s license and her medical examiner’s pass twice before pronouncing her fit to take a look at Ann Fletcher’s autopsy report.

  Even then, there was a snag. She asked for copies to take with her. The attendant told her he couldn’t make copies of the files.

  A little irritated by the young man’s manner—even though she understood he was trying to do his job to the best of his ability—she asked to speak to his manager. He shoved back his chair and grumbled before he finally left the office.

  Peggy didn’t waste any time looking at the files, in case she couldn’t take them with her. She skimmed through the beginning of the report and went directly to what was found in Ann Fletcher’s tox screen.

  “Convallatoxin,” she read aloud. “Glycoside. Especially from the lily of the valley.”

  Lethal lily.

  Everything in the autopsy report went along with the idea that Ann had been poisoned. But cause of death was still listed as heart failure, when it all came down to it. Either no one noticed or thought anything of the convallatoxin.

  “Hello.” An older man in a pale gray suit introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Miles Wyman. I’m in charge of the morgue here. What can I do for you?”

  “Dr. Margaret Lee.” She held out her hand. “I’m here from the ME’s office. I need copies of this file because it hasn’t been posted electronically yet.”

  Dr. Wyman smiled broadly. “I know you. I’ve attended some of your lectures on botanical poisons. Welcome, Dr. Lee. Of course you can have copies. I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you for them. It’s not me, you understand. It’s just policy.”

  “Of course.” She smiled. “How much?”

  “A dollar a page.” Dr. Wyman turned to the young man who went to get him. “This is my assistant. He’ll be happy to help you.”

  Peggy’s jaw dropped at the price. “There are more than a hundred pages in this file, Dr. Wyman. I think that price is a little steep, don’t you?”

  “Even if I did, there would be nothing I could do about it. I’d like to help you, Dr. Lee, but this is hospital board policy.”

  “You realize this is part of a murder investigation?”

  He shrugged. “As I said, I didn’t make the policy.”

  Peggy lifted her chin, and stared at him. “Then I’d like to speak with someone who made the policy.”

  Dr. Wyman looked a little less happy to see her. “I assure you, there won’t be any change, even if you speak to a member of the board.”

  “I’ll take that chance.” She sat down in the uncomfortable green chair by the assistant’s desk. “I’ll wait.”

  “Let me see who’s available.”

  Peggy waited for another twenty minutes, not wasting any of that time as she looked through the documents in the file. By that time, another man in a blue suit approached the desk.

  “I’m Dr. Emmett Brown. I’m a member of the hospital board. What can I do for you?”

  Dr. Brown didn’t look excited at all to meet her when she introduced herself and told him about the problem. “You can see where this would easily cost more than a hundred dollars to have copies made. There must be some exception for the ME’s office.”

  “I don’t see why the medical examiner’s office should warrant an exemption, Dr. Lee. We still have to pay for maintenance on the equipment and toner.”

  “You could have your assistant scan them in, and send them to my email. Maybe that wouldn’t be as costly.”

  “That’s not our policy. Sorry.”

  He didn’t appear sorry. He looked smug and self-righteous. “Then I’d like to speak to someone else on the board. There must be someone here with a little common sense who understands the importance of this information on the murder case.”

  Dr. Brown sniffed. “This can’t be part of a murder investigation, or the ME would already have the file.”

  “Not if the examiner here at the hospital made a mistake in calling this death an accident/heart attack.”

  “What are you talking about? No one here made that kind of mistake.”

  “Perhaps your examiner isn’t familiar with botanical poisons.” She pointed out the toxin listed in Ann Fletcher’s blood. “I wouldn’t say those are naturally occurring, would you? And let’s face it—she either ate a large amount of lily of the valley, or someone artificially put their poison into her in a concentrated form.”

  “Let me see that.” Dr. Brown put on his glasses and mumbled as he read the report. “This is unfortunate, Dr. Lee. We had no idea this woman’s death was anything other than an accident.”

  “I understand that. But as you can see now, it was not accidental. Her husband was recently killed, possibly in the same manner. It was why he requested, and paid for, this autopsy. Too bad for him that the people who saw it didn’t know what they were doing.”

  Dr. Brown put his glasses away, his heavy face angry. “I can see your point. The hospital will make a copy of this for you, Dr. Lee, at our expense. Sorry for any inconvenience on your part.”

  “Thank you.” Peggy smiled a little. It was nice to win, even something this small.

  The hospital morgue assistant quickly made a copy of Ann Fletcher’s file. He put the papers into a new manila folder and handed it to Peggy.

  “Thanks for your help.”

  He nodded and sat back down behind his desk.

  She let it go. There was a lesson here, but she wasn’t in the mood to teach him what it was. She hoped he’d pick it up on his own.

  Peggy put the file inside her bag and opened her umbrella before she ran back into the parking lot again. She unlocked her car door when she reached it, and was ready to open the door, when the van parked beside her opened its door, keeping her from reaching it.

  She started to say something, when a second door opened, blocking her way out of the narrow space that had been created. She was trapped. Really angry at the disembarking passengers, she turned to complain, when a large man snatched the folder from her.

  “Dr. Lee.” The man smiled, showing even white teeth against his heavily tanned face. His black hair was unruly above his gray eyes. “You’re not going to need this information, because you’re going to lay off this little investigation of yours.”

  Peggy recognized the man from that morning at the storage auction. She was smart enough to keep her mouth closed on that realization. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “Let’s just say I was a good friend of Harry Fletcher’s. He wouldn’t want someone poking around in his life—or his death. You need to forget about this, and move on to something else. Maybe you should spend more time with your plants in your shop.”

  “Maybe if someone didn’t want people poking around in Harry’s life and death, they shouldn’t have killed him.” She faced him defiantly, trembling with anger and fear.

  “You’ve been warned.” His attractive face turned feral.

  Someone closed the door behind her, and the black haired man shoved her hard into the side of her car. Peggy’s cheek hit the mirror, and she fell to the wet pavement.

  The man got back in the van, and the vehicle drove away.

  Apricot

  Apricots are particular about the soil conditions in which they are grown. An old saying is that an apricot tree won’t grow far from its mother. They prefer well-drained soils. Some require pollinizer trees and must be planted in pairs. Apricots are susceptible to diseases such as bacterial canker, spot and crown gall, and fungal diseases. There should be an old saying that relates to the amount of care these trees must be given.

  Chapter Eleven

  Peggy sat in her car, doors locked and windows up, for a long time. Her cheek throbbed painfully. It had been cut when she’d been pushed against the car. She examined it carefully in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t too bad, probably didn’t need stitches.

  Her clothes were
soaking wet. She knew she would probably be bruised from the impact on her leg and arm. Her hands were shaking so badly that she didn’t trust herself to drive until she calmed down a little. And she was freezing even though it was at least ninety degrees outside

  Possibly worse than her physical injuries was the knowledge that he’d stolen the file from her. There was nothing she could do to prevent it. She felt ridiculous. How could she have let him get away with it?

  She could go back inside and request more copies, but would anyone believe she’d been attacked right outside the hospital and had the file stolen? It seemed unlikely to her. She was embarrassed to even ask.

  And yet, it showed she was on the right track. She knew the man who’d attacked her had been at the auction that morning for the same reason she had been. He wanted Harry’s files too. She’d been so busy watching the wheezing man that she hadn’t paid much attention to anyone else.

  She was finally warm again and beginning to feel even worse just sitting there. She’d been terrified when the man had attacked her—he could have shot her as easily as he’d pushed her down.

  Now she was mad. She couldn’t go back into the hospital, drenched and dirty, with her cheek sliced open. She’d have to go home first and change clothes. She’d take a closer look at the scratch on her face, but it looked like nothing more than a bandage and some antiseptic cream would take care of.

  Then she could come back here for another copy of Ann Fletcher’s file—and to fill out a report on being attacked in the hospital parking lot.

  She started the car, revving the engine a little higher than necessary. It was temper kicking in. The house was only a few minutes from the hospital. She forced herself to go slow again in the bad weather when she really wanted to put her foot down hard on the accelerator.

  Getting into an accident won’t make this any better.

  Shakespeare, of course, was glad to see her. He whined when she used her schoolteacher voice on him to keep him from jumping on her. “I’m just not in the mood to play right now.”

  Peggy dropped her handbag on a kitchen chair. The door opened behind her, and she panicked, grabbing the first thing she saw—a large spatula Steve used on the grill. She was certain that she looked ridiculous wielding it against another possible attacker, but it was too late. She was confronting Walter as he came in with a big grin on his face.

  He stopped smiling as soon as he saw her. “Oh my world! What happened to you?”

  “I fell down in the parking lot. Go away so I can change clothes.”

  “Let me help you with that cut on your face. It may need a few stitches.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ve done worse to myself working on plants in the yard. Just go away, Walter. Leave me alone.” She almost pushed him back out the door. Shakespeare was whining and trying to get her attention. The dog’s large body kept getting between her and Walter.

  “I came to tell you that my new apricot tree is finally bearing fruit,” Walter said as she was trying to get rid of him. “I thought you might like to come for a look-see.”

  “Maybe later. I’m a little busy right now.” She finally got Shakespeare out of the way enough to close the door on Walter and lock it. She took a deep breath, grabbed her handbag, and marched upstairs to her room.

  Peggy stripped off her dress and underwear and then climbed into a hot shower. By then she was really starting to feel the impact of the street and the car against her body. Already bruises were forming on her tender flesh. She was going to be sore tomorrow.

  She got out of the shower and wrapped her robe around her, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. It was a little shock and some lingering fear. Nothing to worry about. There was some blood on her towel from the cut on her cheek. The bathroom mirror was steamed up so she decided to sit down at her vanity in the bedroom to take a good look.

  “Are you taking up cage fighting?” Steve was sitting on the bed.

  Peggy almost jumped out of her skin. She put a hand to her face, glad she hadn’t had a chance to pick up some stupid utensil to defend herself against this surprise visitor.

  “What are you doing here?” She partially covered the wound on her cheek with her hand.

  “I live here. What happened?”

  “I meant what are you doing here now? I thought you were working.”

  “I come home for lunch when I can.” Steve’s smile faded as he got to his feet and moved her fingers away from her face. “Did someone at the auction hit you?”

  “Of course not. They would’ve had to go through Sam.” She brushed aside his hand and sat down hard on her vanity bench, wincing at the pain in her posterior. Apparently she’d hit the ground harder than she’d thought.

  “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She studied her face in the mirror. The cut might leave a curved scar on her cheek. It looked clean but still a little bloody.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and studied her in the mirror. “Let me help you with that. I think we have some butterfly bandages in the cabinet.”

  Peggy waited impatiently. She felt silly that this had happened to her and horribly weepy. She wanted nothing better than to turn her face into Steve’s shoulder and have a good cry. But where would that get her? Steve would be on the phone with Paul, and they’d never want her to do anything but tend her plants again. That wasn’t what she wanted.

  He came back with the butterfly bandages and turned her slightly to face him. “Tell me. I promise not to judge.”

  She looked into his concerned brown eyes and tears gathered in hers. “I don’t think I can right now. It wasn’t life threatening, but maybe a little careless on my part. I was only doing my job.”

  He put his arms around her. “I don’t care what you were doing. You can tell me anything.”

  So it all poured out of her as he put the bandages on her face. “I should’ve noticed the van. It was parked too close to the car. I should’ve realized something wasn’t right.”

  “How could you have possibly realized someone would go to those lengths to scare you off the case?”

  “It’s not like I didn’t know it was serious and that someone else was involved. Harry was murdered. The wheezing man bid more than twenty-five hundred dollars for the contents of his storage unit. Both of those things are suspicious, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. They’re both suspicious. But even a police officer probably wouldn’t have seen that attack coming. Did you report it to anyone?”

  “Not yet. I was soaking wet, and my cheek was bleeding. I decided to come home first.”

  “Okay. Now the thing is to call Al and tell him what happened. Have him meet you at the hospital, and get the video footage from the parking lot around the time you were attacked.”

  “And get another copy of the file.” She nodded, green eyes less watery and more determined.

  “Exactly.” He kissed her gently. “Want me to drive you?”

  “No. You’re here for lunch. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  “Thanks. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Peggy got dressed slowly in emerald green pants and a pink and green summer top. She hadn’t realized how sore she was until she bent down to put on her shoes. She wasn’t looking forward to the near future.

  When she was presentable, she went downstairs again. Shakespeare whined at her heels trying to get her to play with him. She patted his big head and told him it was all right. She knew he was just reacting to her mood. She tossed his rubber ball down the spiral stairs. He went skidding and sliding to the ground floor, overjoyed at her being happy with him again.

  Steve was still in the kitchen finishing his lunch and checking his email on his laptop. “I made you a sandwich to take with you.”

  “Thanks. I had lunch with Paul.” She put it into the fridge.

  “Don’t forget
the video. They might be able to ID the man who attacked you.”

  “I won’t forget.” She smiled at him as she put on a clean, dry, rain poncho. “Thank you for not getting upset and demanding to come back out with me.”

  He kissed her, but his brown eyes revealed the depth of his emotions that he was keeping under control. “You’d better go quickly before that happens. I’ll see you later.”

  * * *

  Peggy was feeling rebellious when she returned to the hospital. She’d parked in a no-parking zone close to the door where the morgue was located.

  She’d called Al first and let him know what happened. She called Dorothy afterward and explained the situation. Dorothy was upset and offered to find a police escort for Peggy to return to the medical examiner’s office.

  “I’ll be careful,” Peggy told her. “I’m meeting the police in a few minutes.”

  “It looks like your theory about Harry and his wife must be true. Be careful. I don’t want to do your autopsy.”

  Peggy saw Al pull into the parking lot as she finished speaking with Dorothy. She met him at his car as he came up behind her.

  “You didn’t have to prove that Harry Fletcher had a checkered past and enemies.” Al put his big arms around her. “We already knew that. Are you okay? Do you need a doctor to look at that?”

  “What I need is the video footage of the parking lot from about two hours ago when I was attacked. The man who confronted me might be on that tape. He was also at the auction of Harry’s papers this morning.”

  “You’ve been busy,” he said. “Did he buy the files you were looking for?”

  “No. But I might have the name and address of the man who did.” She told him about their bidding war.

  He whistled when he heard how much the wheezing man had paid. “Let’s go inside and talk to someone in charge about that video. Twenty-five hundred, you say? Harry must’ve had something important in that storage unit.”

  Al and Peggy confronted the same young man at the morgue desk. But this time Al sent him scurrying for hospital security when he took out his badge. Dr. Wyman returned with the head of security. Al shook hands with both men and then demanded a copy of Ann Fletcher’s autopsy report as well as the video footage.