by Joyce Lavene
“Hello, everyone,” Peggy said with a smile. “I knew there would be plenty, so I brought Sam with me.”
Peggy’s mother gave her a cursory glance at first—until she saw the cut on her daughter’s cheek. “What have you been doing to yourself this time?”
Steve shrugged as Peggy’s glance went to him. “I didn’t say anything.”
“It’s nothing serious, Mother.” Peggy put her handbag on the table. “Just a little accident.”
“A little accident where Peggy was attacked because she’s looking into someone’s death for the ME’s office.” Sam managed to sneak between the cooks and sniff the sauce that was bubbling in the pan. “Yum.”
Peggy’s father slapped at Sam’s hand as he tried to taste it. “Not hygienic, my boy. Get a spoon if you want a taste.”
“You’re doing it again, aren’t you, Margaret?” Her mother’s white-haired head was tipped to one side as she continued to study her daughter’s face. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“Remind me never to take your side against Selena again,” Peggy warned Sam for his perfidy. Then to her mother, “It looks worse than it is. I’m not worried about it. What’s the historical society up to this week?”
It was an obvious ploy to change the subject. Lilla’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t getting away from it that easy, my girl.”
“The Shamrock Historical Society has a new member.” Walter appeared from the hall. “I joined this very day.”
“That’s wonderful news!” Peggy was still trying to redirect everyone’s attention from her. “I didn’t know you were interested in history.”
Walter’s chest puffed out. “History is what makes us who we are! Everyone should be interested in it.”
“Ranson and Lilla are making roasted vegetables with cheese sauce.” Steve tried to help her out.
“That’s right.” Peggy’s father grinned at her. He took great pride in his small vegetable garden. “I picked them myself this morning.”
“It sounds and smells wonderful, Dad.” Peggy went around her mother to give her father a hug. “Is that the famous Hughes’ cheese sauce I smell?”
He hugged her tightly. “That’s right. Grandma Hughes’ famous sauce. We should’ve put it on the market, like the Colonel did with his chicken. We’d be rich by now.”
Sam finally found a spoon and got some of the sauce into his mouth. “I agree. What’s the secret?”
Ranson laughed. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you. Steve, have you got a gun handy?”
“Always,” Steve joked, going to Peggy’s side and putting his arm around her.
“It looks like you should’ve had that gun wherever Peggy was when she got hurt today,” Lilla said in a snarky voice.
“I tried to convince her to stay out of it,” Steve replied. “You know how stubborn she is.”
Walter laughed. “I couldn’t believe when I saw her cheek flayed open today. Maybe she needs to take some self-defense courses. I did a few years back. Does wonders for your self-esteem.”
Lilla coughed. “My daughter doesn’t need any help in that department!”
“Has anyone set the table?” Peggy asked in a light voice as though she wasn’t irritated by them talking around her like she wasn’t there.
“I don’t think so,” Steve said. “They don’t really need me in here. I’ll give you a hand.”
They went into the large dining room together and started taking out the antique rose china.
“Sorry. I didn’t know it was going to be a Peggy-fest tonight.” Steve put bowls on the table. “Are you okay?”
“I’m actually better than okay.” She glanced toward the kitchen door, but everyone else was involved in making dinner. “The wheezing man came to visit me at the shop.”
He stopped with a bowl in mid-air. “And that was a good thing?”
She explained what Arnie had told her. “He might not be who he claims to be, but I figure I can look him up. I might still get a look at Harry’s papers.”
“I hope you don’t plan to go there alone with him tomorrow.” Steve put the delicate bowl on the polished surface of the wood. “I can go with you. Or if you’re not comfortable with that, call Paul, or take Sam.”
“I don’t see why Arnie would want to hurt me.” She started taking out the crystal glasses.
“But you don’t know who the man was who attacked you at the hospital either.”
“It wasn’t Arnie.” Her green eyes were suspicious. “You’ve been talking to Al, haven’t you?”
“Did you expect me not to? I wouldn’t have to talk to him—if you told me everything.”
“I’m telling you everything I know right now.”
“Just be careful, Peggy. That’s all I ask. You don’t know if you can trust this man. For all you know, he could be Harry’s killer.”
“Men don’t use poison,” she retorted smartly. “Arnie seems more like the gun or knife type to me.”
Steve gave her an exasperated look, but didn’t say anything else about it as dinner was served.
Ranson placed the china tureen on the table between them. “Not good to argue over food. Bad for the digestion.”
Paul was able to join them only a few moments after they sat down to eat. His shift had ended early, and Mai was at home asleep.
Lilla frowned. “Oh, that’s too bad. I wish she could have come too. How is she doing?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” Paul shook his head.
Ranson slapped his grandson on the back. “Don’t worry, son. It only gets worse once the baby is born. This time will seem like a picnic after you live through the next three months.”
“Thanks, Grandpa. I might have to take a job out of state if it gets any worse.” Paul smiled at Steve. “Got any openings in the FBI somewhere else?”
Everyone laughed at that, and Lilla filled a bowl for Paul. Talk around the table turned to the Shamrock Historical Society’s newest project, as Peggy had hoped. The team was excavating an old church cemetery over on Seventh Street.
Once Lilla had started talking about her favorite subject—and Sam had a chance to gush about Claire Drummond’s yard—there wasn’t enough time to say anything else about what had happened to Peggy. She was grateful to be left out of the conversation.
There was fresh peach pie and coffee for dessert. Mai called, and Paul had to leave. She needed ice cream and a neck massage. He hugged his mother and grandparents and shook hands with Steve, Sam, and Walter.
Everyone helped clean up after dinner, the talk continuing about Charlotte history and gardening. They all walked next door to take a look at Walter’s apricot tree. It was beautiful in the odd twilight with the fast-moving storm clouds above them. There were dozens of small fuzzy fruit amidst the pale green leaves.
Peggy walked back to her parents’ car with her father’s arm around her shoulders. Lilla walked behind them with Steve.
“You know, you have to take care of yourself,” her father said.
“I know, Dad. I do.”
“You get caught up in things and act impulsively sometimes, Peggy. You’ve been hurt before.”
“I know, Dad.”
“You’re about to be a grandmother.” He stopped walking and smiled at her. “You might have to settle down now.”
“I’m not digging up old graveyards.” She smiled.
“You’ve got your plants and your shop.”
“Sorry, Dad.” She hugged him. “I’m not ready for that rocking chair full-time yet.”
“I know.” He kissed her lightly on the head. “Just be careful. I don’t like to see you hurt.”
“I will.”
Her mother snatched her father’s arm as she came closer. “Time for us to go.” She kissed her fingers and tossed the kiss to Peggy. “I don’t want to hurt that wound. It looks a little angry. Better have someone take a look at it.”
“Thanks for dinner,” Steve called out as they got into their car.
“Good
night,” Peggy chimed in.
“You handled that very well.” He observed when they were alone.
“Thanks. Now I can go inside and fall apart.”
He hugged her close to him. “You’re tougher than that.”
“Not when it comes to my mother.”
Peggy took Shakespeare out for his evening run. The sky was still cloudy, with a few stars trying to peek through. She went in through the basement door when the dog was finished doing his business and chasing anything that moved in the garden. He laid down on one of the rubber mats that covered the concrete floor as Peggy picked up her clipboard to check on her experiments.
She’d collaborated with a group that was trying to erase world hunger by growing bigger, more drought- and insect-resistant, plants. Already they’d come up with wheat and corn that had a shorter growth cycle. She, and her fellow botanists from around the world, kept each other up to date on their projects each week.
Peggy was currently working on watermelons that were packed full of extra vitamins. They had a thirty-day growth cycle from planting to harvest. The fruit was very sweet, and very juicy. It was also small—which many of her associates criticized.
Her answer to that was that people could grow so many of the melons that size didn’t matter. She was still working on it, but so far the melons were the size of baseballs.
She had a text on her phone. It made a strange pinging sound in the quiet of the basement.
SORRY FOR YOUR INJURIES TODAY. CLOSE TO ANSWERS ABOUT JOHN’S DEATH. DON’T GIVE UP.
Peggy knew she couldn’t text Nightflyer back, but it didn’t matter. She was on the right track, no matter what anyone thought. It was only a matter of time before she had more information about what had happened to John.
Lily of the Valley
Convallaria majalis. The lily of the valley is an herbaceous perennial found in temperate areas of the Northern Hemisphere. The dainty white, sweet-smelling lilies bloom in the late spring. The flower is the floral emblem of Yugoslavia and the national flower of Finland. All parts of the plant are extremely poisonous - there are forty different cardiac glycosides in it. Compounds have been made from these poisons since the dawn of history. They were used to treat arrhythmia and congestive heart failure, as well as a sedative. This plant can kill you!
Chapter Fourteen
Al called Peggy as she was getting ready for bed. “I have the name and address of the man who bid against you at the auction today. His name is Arnie Houck. I don’t know what his involvement is in all of this.”
Peggy debated about telling him that she already understood Arnie’s involvement. She finally decided to keep her friend in the loop. “He came by the shop. He’s Ann Fletcher’s brother.”
“Okay. Tell me.”
She could imagine Al writing it down in his little notebook with the dull pencil he usually used. “I don’t know if he has anything to do with Harry’s death. He said he didn’t know Harry thought his sister had been murdered.”
“Best not to get involved until we know more about him,” Al counseled. “We looked through the video from the hospital parking lot. The van doors being open kept us from seeing the face of the man who attacked you. We got the license plate of the van, but it had been stolen. They ditched it over on First Street. Crime scene is checking for prints, but right now we’ve got nothing.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” she said. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything new.”
“From a safe distance, right?”
“Of course. Goodnight, Al.”
“Nothing from him, huh?” Steve asked from their bed.
“Not really. I’m hoping to have more answers from the tox screen tomorrow.” She smoothed cream on her hands and switched off the light. “I didn’t ask you how your burglary investigation went today.”
“We didn’t have anything as exciting as you did. Just a lot of questions with no answers. Maybe we’ll have a better day tomorrow too.” He kissed her, and turned over. “Goodnight, Peggy.”
“I love you, Steve.”
He murmured sleepily, and she closed her eyes.
* * *
The next day was bright and sunny with temperatures promising to be hotter than normal. Peggy and Steve went through their usual morning routines before parting ways to go to opposite parts of the city to work. She had decided to ride her bike to work since the day was nice. It was her normal mode of transportation for the office and the garden shop.
Peggy had an early morning email from Dorothy telling her that Harry’s tox screen was in. She didn’t say what the findings were. Peggy was eager to get to the office and find out.
If Ann and Harry were killed by plant toxin, it would be unusual. Convallatoxin wasn’t a normal poison—poisoners were more likely to use arsenic from rat poison or Drano. She really didn’t blame the examiner at the hospital for ignoring, or missing, the findings.
She wondered what the police would make of the deaths being twenty years apart, and yet related so intimately. Poison was a weapon that was mostly used by people who knew you. It wasn’t something that usually happened with a stranger.
All of it was speculation on her part. She thought about it as she rode into the parking lot and locked her bike in the rack near the sidewalk.
Tom greeted her at the door, and she passed through the metal detector with a quick step. Peggy went to Dorothy’s office first, but the medical examiner wasn’t there. She thought to check the autopsy room where she’d seen Harry’s body. That’s where she found Dorothy.
“Just the forensic botanist I wanted to see.” Dorothy’s voice was muffled by her surgical mask. “Come in. Wait until you see what I found.”
Peggy put on her coat, gloves, and mask. “You said you have Harry’s tox screen back.”
“I do. There was definitely convallatoxin in his system. I looked at the files you got on his wife yesterday. The big difference was the amount of toxin in Harry Fletcher’s system. His wife—someone could look at that, and mistake it for something else. Harry’s toxin level was off the charts.”
“That sounds like some concentrated toxin,” Peggy remarked. “It would be hard to drink enough of that in a glass of scotch.”
“I thought the same thing.” Dorothy rolled Harry’s head to one side. “Look here. A tiny puncture wound. I don’t know if we would even have noticed if the notion of poison wouldn’t have come up.”
Peggy looked closely at the small hole in Harry’s neck. “Someone injected him with it. That’s why he died so quickly.”
“Exactly. I put the time of death only about an hour before you found him.” Dorothy was pleased with her find. “I don’t know if we should follow your friend’s lead, and request an exhumation order, or not. Ann Fletcher may have been fed the toxin over a period of time.”
“Which may be impossible to tell so long after her death.”
Dorothy sighed. “True. At least from these files. I really think we should exhume her. We could do tissue samples and still find out how long she’d been ingesting convallatoxin.”
“If you think that’s the right thing to do. I’m not a big fan of exhumation.”
“I think it’s best, if we really want to know what happened to this woman.”
Peggy was glad they had an answer. Still, convallatoxin wasn’t something you could buy at the local drug store. She’d never even heard of someone selling it on the Internet. It seemed to her that someone who’d used it at least twice to kill people would make their own. Certainly, it was too distinctive to think more than one person had used it to kill the couple.
Dorothy got off the phone after ordering the exhumation of Ann Fletcher’s body. “Do we know if she has any living relatives now that her husband is dead?”
“Her brother is in town. Will you need his permission?”
“I wouldn’t have to get it, but it would take me around a bunch of red tape if I had it.”
“I’m meeting him in a short while. I could
ask him to sign a permission form.” She glanced at her watch. Sam was supposed to pick her up in about twenty minutes.
“Let me get you that form.” Dorothy smiled and removed her gloves and mask before she left the autopsy room. “I feel like we’re on to something now. Convallatoxin is kind of rare. Someone must be making it. It seems like an odd choice of ways to kill someone.”
Peggy agreed as she removed her gloves and mask to follow Dorothy to her office. “I’ll look around and see if I can find someplace local to buy it, but I doubt it. That only leaves the Internet.”
Dorothy shrugged. “You can get anything there.”
“But this is twenty years apart and basically in the same family. That’s a long time to only use one poison, don’t you think?”
“You mean they should have changed it up a bit? Who knows what significance it holds for the killer? This could be a crime of passion.”
Peggy smiled. “That’s a long time to be passionate about something.”
“You know what I mean. I’m going to do a search through North Carolina files to see if there have been other convallatoxin poisonings during that time. We might be on to something.”
Dorothy gave Peggy a standard exhumation permission form. “Good luck. Where are you meeting the brother anyway?”
Peggy explained about Harry’s files. “I may have more to go on by the time I look through them. Harry was so certain his wife was murdered. No one would listen to him.”
“It’s like anything else that happens when large entities have to deal with it—mistakes can take place. It’s unfortunate, but at least he had you to champion him. Honestly, I don’t know if any of us would have noticed that tiny needle mark without you pointing us in that direction.”
“I guess bullets and knife wounds are easier.”
“Anything is easier than poison.” Dorothy sat down at her desk, and picked up her phone again. “Let me know what you find out in Mr. Fletcher’s files.”