With her father’s help, she continued her grisly task. The letter opener was ruined by the time it went through the silicone sealer from head to foot between the lid and the base of the coffin. She unhinged the latch when she was done and took a deep breath.
Her father put his hand on her shoulder. She smiled at him and nodded. Together, they pushed open the lid on the coffin.
The dead man inside was cleaned up, dressed in a brown suit, and positioned with his hands over his heart. His face and hands were grisly and ruined. Nothing there to use for her purpose. Fortunately, she’d known Darmus a long time. “Let’s lift his trouser leg.”
“What?”
“Darmus had a scar on his right leg. John and I were with him the day he did it. He cut it on some barbed wire climbing into a pasture to steal a horse.”
“A horse?”
“You don’t want to know.” She grimaced. “Anyway, it left a white, sickle-shaped scar on his leg. It wouldn’t have been affected by the fire, and I doubt Darmus or Luther would have thought to do anything to disguise it.”
Together, they lifted the right leg and pulled up the trouser.
“No scar. This isn’t him.” Her face was set in grim lines. “I don’t know who it is. But it’s not Darmus Appleby.”
After closing the coffin, Peggy and her father somehow managed to slip out of the mortuary unseen by the attentive staff. They sat in the truck for a few minutes, facing the stark brick building.
“What now?” her father finally asked.
“I’m not sure. I know I should go to the police. There have been some terrible errors made. But I want to talk to Darmus first. He must be out there somewhere. I still have some time to find him before I have to stop this.”
“How will you find him if he’s hiding?”
She started the truck, her hands shaking on the wheel, and reversed out of the parking lot. “I don’t know. I can’t believe this is happening. What in the world is he thinking?”
“I’d say he isn’t. At least not in his right mind. You say he isn’t a criminal, but I don’t think the police are going to see it that way.”
“I know.”
“Is there something I can do to help you find him?”
“I’m not going to go out and find him.”
He chuckled. “Whatever! I saw the papers when you helped solve those murders. I was mighty proud of you, little girl.”
Despite her age, it still made her smile when he called her that name. Was anyone ever too old to be reminded that there was someone older, someone wiser who was looking over their shoulder? When she was in college it annoyed her, but she’d come to appreciate it as the years passed and younger people seemed to dominate her life. “Thanks, Dad. But I don’t think so. I’ll take you back home. Then I’ll make a few calls. I have to talk to Al.”
“Never mind that. I’m in for the pound! And don’t worry.” He took out a huge pistol from a holster under his lightweight cotton jacket. “I’ll take care of anything that gets out of line.”
“Where did you get that?”
“I carry it for protection. It’s a bad world out there, little girl. Your mother and I live out on a farm alone and travel by ourselves a bit. I wanted to be sure we’d be safe.”
“You have shotguns you hunt with. Why a pistol?”
“Because it’s so handy.” He grinned. “See? You didn’t even know I had it on me.”
“Do you have a permit for that?”
“I do. And I took shooting lessons. I can shoot a fly off a cow’s butt at one hundred yards.”
She wasn’t sure if that was good, but she hoped Paul didn’t find out about it. He wasn’t a big fan of concealed weapons. “All right. But put it away for now. And don’t take it out unless someone threatens our lives. I’m going home to change clothes after I check in at the Potting Shed and then I’ll decide what to do.”
PEGGY DIDN’T PLAN ON EVERYONE wanting to go to the Potting Shed with her. But when she came back downstairs after changing clothes, her mother, and her father were waiting for her. Cousin Melvin and Aunt Mayfield had decided to take naps.
“So this is the Potting Shed!” Peggy’s father looked around at the antique garden furniture and lemon verbena display, then stomped his foot on the hardwood floor. “Good floors.”
“Thanks, Dad. You’ve already met Sam. This is Selena Rogers. She helps me out here at the shop. And this is Keeley Prinz. She works in the field with Sam most of the time. I have two other part-timers who come in when we get really busy.”
“Like now.” Selena shook hands with Peggy’s father. “Nice to meet you. We’re really busy this afternoon, so if you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course!” Ranson looked at the people streaming in and out of the front door. “You’re doing a wonderful business here, Margaret! Congratulations, darlin’.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Peggy glanced at her mother, who was frowning. “Would you like to sit down, Mom?”
“No.” Her mother shook her head. “I’d like to go home now. Or at least back to your place.”
“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” her husband asked.
“Our daughter is running a garden shop after going to school practically all of her life. What could be wrong?”
“Mom!” Peggy whispered, glancing at the people she did business with every day. “Maybe we could talk about this later.”
“That’s fine,” her mother replied. “I’m sure nothing I say is going to change your mind anyway. You always were a stubborn child, Margaret. Always determined to have things your way.”
“Wow! That really surprises me.” Keeley nudged Sam.
“Yeah.” He laughed. “Who would’ve guessed?”
“Don’t the two of you have somewhere to go?” Peggy asked them.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Let’s get out of here, Keeley. I have plans to be inside sipping lemonade by three.”
“Be careful, you two,” Peggy cautioned. “Be sure to stay hydrated.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sam nodded his head as he picked up a bag of fertilizer. “Nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.”
“Good to see you too, son,” Peggy’s father acknowledged.
“Who’s for coffee this morning?” Emil Balducci and his wife, Sofia, pushed past customers carrying hoes and ceramic pots to get into the Potting Shed. “I have some nice sticky buns, too!”
“Mmm! I love those things!” Peggy’s father put out his hand. “I’m Ranson Hughes, Margaret’s father. This is my wife, Lilla. We’re up here visiting from Charleston.”
Emil put his buns and coffee down on the counter and wiped his hands on his red Kozy Kettle Koffee and Tea Emporium T-shirt. “Good to meet you! Peggy is our best friend. Right, Sofia?”
His husky, blond wife nodded. “She must have told you plenty about us already, right?”
Peggy’s father was at a loss, but his smile didn’t waver. “I’ll bet she has! Could I have one of those sticky buns? I love those things.”
“Of course, of course!” Sofia gave him a sticky bun and a napkin. “We try to find Peggy the right man, you know. She’s always alone in that big, expensive house. She needs a man to take care of her. Maybe you can convince her. My brother, Stefan, is in town this week. They could have dinner together.”
Peggy’s parents looked at her. She sailed into the fray. “I don’t think Steve would like me to have dinner with another man. Thanks anyway.”
“Oh him.” Sofia waved her ring-heavy hand. “He’s a nuisance, isn’t he? Does he have money? My brother, Stefan, is an investment broker. He sells things to people.”
“What kind of things?” Ranson asked.
“Mostly hogs. But sometimes sheep. They are very popular on the market today.”
“Well maybe Steve and Margaret could have dinner with him.” Her father beamed with his solution to the problem. “Steve is a fine boy. I’m sure he’d like Stefan, too. And Steve knows plenty about animals.”
Peggy walked aw
ay from the jumble of conversation that followed the suggestion. Her mother was rocking in the hardwood rocker that always became part of her seasonal display. For late spring, it included a dozen potted pink and white azaleas and a real, old-fashioned lilac bush whose perfume filled the shop. Selena had put little felt bluebirds on the bush. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Lilla didn’t look up.
The rapid front and back motion of the rocker told a different story. How many times had a much younger Peggy waited to find out what her punishment was going to be for whatever her youthful folly while her mother rocked this way on the front porch? “You don’t like the Potting Shed?”
“I like it just fine. But I’m disappointed in the owner. She could do so much better.”
Was there ever a time a parent’s opinion didn’t matter? Peggy glanced at Selena, who was trying to work through a long line of customers. “We’ll have to talk about this later. I can’t leave Selena to fend for herself right now. Please don’t judge me yet. You know I’ve given years to teaching. This is something John and I planned. It’s very special to me.”
Her mother frowned. “You’re right, Margaret. We’ll talk about it later. Your father wants to go to that big Bass Pro Shop over at the mall. Steve said he’d take him. I think I’ll just go along and look for a few things.”
Peggy sighed. “All right. I’ll meet you at home later. I’m glad you like Steve.”
“Not like we had much choice.” Her mother pushed herself out of the rocking chair. “He told us he was ‘the man in your life.’ Even as young as he is, I assume he knows what that means. I hope you know what it means, too.”
In other words, Peggy’s mother liked Steve just fine. But not as a possible son-in-law.
Not that they were even close to that kind of relationship. They had an understanding between them, but that was as far as it went. They spent a lot of time together. Maybe they appeared closer than they were. Why did Steve tell her parents he was the man in her life?
“Steve!” Peggy’s father hailed his arrival from across the crowded shop. “I’m ready to take a look at that Bass Pro Shop.”
He sounded like a man whose life raft just sprang a leak twenty miles out to sea. Peggy smiled as Steve waved to her father, then came through the crowd to kiss her. It was barely a peck on the lips, but she could feel her mother’s disapproving gaze straight through her backbone.
“Are Emil and Sofia trying to marry your father off to a cousin?” Steve asked.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Peggy answered. “Thanks for taking my parents to the mall. We’re going to be slammed here this afternoon. Maybe you could keep them out until dinner?”
“Not a problem. I don’t know what your mother will do, but your father and I can find plenty to look at in the Bass Pro Shop.”
“She always has something to buy. I’m sure you’ll come back with a car full.”
“I’d like to take all of you out to dinner tonight. I was thinking about Italian. What do you think?”
“That sounds okay. Thanks.”
He looked at her carefully. “Is something wrong? Something besides your parents making you a nervous wreck?”
“No. That’s about it.”
“Peggy!” Selena’s voice carried above the crowd. “Help!”
“I have to go.” Peggy squeezed Steve’s right arm. Her mother couldn’t see that side. “I’ll talk to you later.”
She watched Steve walk out of the Potting Shed, talking to her father. Her mother was silent but cooperative. When they were gone, she put on her green apron and concentrated on her customers.
Sales had been picking up since mid-April. It was the end of May, and the trend showed no sign of reversal. She knew it didn’t mean they wouldn’t have some slow time over the long, hot summer. But she hoped the new contracts they negotiated for landscaping services would carry them through. She wasn’t desperate, but she was still a little worried.
The Potting Shed was still a toddler. She knew the first five years were critical to a business, just like a child. She didn’t want to rush into early retirement from the university only to feel the pinch of financial strain.
But there were only so many hours in the day. The Potting Shed was taking up more and more time. She loved her work there as well as the side projects she took on for various friends and associates in her field. She believed those, plus her speaking fees as a poisonous plants expert, would carry her through. But that didn’t do anything for the large butterflies in her stomach.
Emil and Sofia disappeared out the door after her parents, but they returned at three with bagel sandwiches and tea. The shop had cleared out by then, leaving Peggy and Selena straightening up and replacing stock. The Balduccis glanced around as they entered through the heavy glass and wood door. “Where is everyone?”
Peggy looked up from trying to remove some gum from a box of fertilizer spikes. Small hands probably put it there while the child’s mother or father was browsing. “The lunch rush is finally over.”
“Thank God!” Selena sighed from behind a shelf of plant stakes.
“No. Your parents,” Sofia explained. “Where are they?”
“Probably still at the mall.”
Emil and Sofia exchanged meaningful glances. Sofia rolled her expressive eyes. “You think that is such a good idea? After all, they didn’t take to Steve too well, did they?”
“I think it will be fine.” Peggy refused to let them make her any more paranoid than she already was. “The food looks good!”
Emil and Sofia both sighed heavily, and Sofia crossed herself. “Did I ever tell you about my great-aunt Baba? Heaven forbid you should end up like her.”
Selena whispered to Peggy, “Here we go again.”
“My great-aunt Baba on my mother’s side was very independent. She owned a big house and a fine vineyard.”
“It’s true.” Emil validated his wife’s story. “She even had a big car. I think it was a Buick.”
“Baba only had one fault. She couldn’t pick a good man. Time after time my family watched her pick the worst of the bunch. Until finally my uncle Savio on my father’s side said, ‘Baba I will pick out a good man for you.’ That’s all it took. Sometimes we can’t see what’s best for us, Peggy. Sometimes we have to rely on our family and friends, you know?”
The phone rang, and Peggy ran to get it, grateful to get away from yet another parable that closely resembled her life.
“Don’t leave me here!” Selena ran after her. “I’m sure you need help answering the phone.”
Sofia crossed herself again. “May none of us know a death alone.”
Selena shook her head, blond/brown curls bouncing from her ponytail. “I’m going for a little walk, Peggy, before they launch into the next story. This is too weird for me.”
Peggy wished she could go with her, but already two new browsers were in the shop. Sofia began her new tale of woe. Peggy hoped her browsers would become buyers before she had to run screaming from the shop as well.
At four, Peggy put in a call to her friend, Detective Al McDonald, on the Charlotte Police Department. She didn’t plan to tell him everything, but she had to start somewhere. She needed some answers. There were pockets of questions in her mind before she talked to Nightflyer. Now that she knew Darmus wasn’t in his coffin, there were whole chasms.
She could only speculate on what happened until she had some firm answers. It looked like the man she rescued from the burning house was made to look like Darmus. Someone, wanted him to be mistaken for Darmus.
And what about the police? They weren’t going to like the fact that a mistake was made in Darmus’s identity. How far were they supposed to go to identify a man who was clearly who he was supposed to be? And who was the dead man she dragged from the house?
Peggy fingered Darmus’s ring in the pocket of her jeans. Was Luther going to give Darmus his ring back the day he was killed in the garden? Could th
e two brothers have been working together?
Luther acted strangely that day in the hospital. She couldn’t help but recall his speech in Albemarle. With Darmus’s death, a man of God had become the head of Feed America. Could Luther somehow have influenced Darmus to fake his own death so Luther could run Feed America?
If so, it was short-lived. Now Luther was dead, too. Was he killed because he’d taken Darmus’s place? How much money was involved in Feed America anyway? And who would take Luther’s place?
7
Peppermint
Botanical: Mentha piperita
Family: Labiatae
Greeks and Romans crowned themselves with peppermint at their feasts. The herb was used in ancient Egypt. It came into usage in the western world in the middle of the eighteenth century. Used medicinally for indigestion and to dispel ill spirits.
DETECTIVE AL MCDONALD, a broad-faced black man who’d been her husband’s partner for twenty years on the job, finally stopped in to see her a little after five. Selena was gone for the day, taking extra credit classes to add to her engineering courses for fall.
“Peggy!” Al embraced her and smiled down into her face. “How’s it going?”
“Good! My parents are up for a visit. How’s Mary?”
“Still waiting for me to retire.” He chuckled, talking about his wife of many years. “I might have my time in, but I don’t see anything else waiting for me up the road. I’ll probably stay where I am until I can’t get around anymore and they kick me out.”
She laughed. “Can I get you something to drink? I think I have some Coke in the mini-fridge.”
“No, that’s fine.” He planted his large frame on a stool behind the counter. “I got your message. What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure.” She told him what Nightflyer said about Darmus.
He groaned. “Not that weird guy on the Internet again! Peggy, how would he know if Darmus is dead or not? Have you asked yourself that question? I mean, was he in the hospital or something?”
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