Poisoned Petals

by Joyce; Jim Lavene

  “Let’s take a look at the letter,” she said to Naomi. “Maybe that will shed some light on this.”

  Peggy used her Potting Shed letter opener on it and unfolded the pages. The sheets of paper were stationery from Luther’s church.

  “What does it say?” Naomi asked anxiously as Peggy read the letter.

  Dear Peggy,

  If you are reading this, then my worst fears have been realized and I am no longer of this earth. If that is the case, there is some vital information that you must have. To begin with, Darmus is still alive.

  “No!” Peggy said out loud, grabbing the side of the counter. “I can’t believe Nightflyer was right.”

  “What is it? What does it say?”

  Peggy couldn’t answer her. She was horrified and disillusioned by what she read.

  The letter continued:

  I know this will be difficult to understand. I wrestled with my conscience for days before agreeing to help Darmus with this scheme. God knows how I will be forgiven for it. I hope it will all be for the good in the end.

  “Peggy.” Naomi grasped her arm. “Tell me what it says.”

  Looking up from the letter, Peggy put her hand on Naomi’s. “I don’t know how to explain this, but Luther helped Darmus fake his own death. It’s unbelievable, but the truth is right here.”

  Luther’s letter was damning. He’d attended a sick church member who had no family, no friends in the community. He already knew of Darmus’s wish to get away. He didn’t say how much he wanted to get his hands on Feed America, but Peggy could read that between the lines.

  The church member was dying. He was a black man about the same size as Darmus. Luther even knew their blood types were the same since he had access to the man’s medical records. It was perfect.

  It became a Godsend for us, Peggy. We had exactly what we needed.

  When the man finally died, Luther called Darmus, and they set up the rest of it. They put the dead man into Darmus’s house, and opened a gas line by shaking the stove to make it appear real. It was Darmus’s idea, according to Luther, to put the man close to the stove so his fingerprints and face wouldn’t be identified.

  But it was Luther who changed the dental records so the dead man’s records were in Darmus’s file. He didn’t say how he did it, but Peggy supposed money was involved.

  I want to confess these things to you for two reasons. One is to clear my own conscience and hope for salvation. The next is to help Darmus, who is alone and needs your help.

  He had Naomi bring the letter to Peggy because Darmus was out there and might need a contact. Luther urged Darmus to turn himself in, assuming he was already dead and wouldn’t be hurt by the exposure.

  What we did was wrong and can never be made truly right. But we should try to do what we can. Albert Jackson should not rest in a grave with the wrong name.

  Peggy truly wished Luther had thought of that before he and Darmus did this crazy thing. She could hardly imagine one grown man doing this. But two of them actually accomplishing it was preposterous.

  Half an hour later, she walked with Naomi to the front door and watched her walk away through the courtyard. She’d managed to get the young woman’s phone number at the church. From what she’d seen of the letter, she might need it.

  She’d comforted Naomi the best she could. It was never easy to learn your idol had feet of clay. It would take much longer for her to deal with the truth.

  She planned on telling Darmus to turn himself in to the police, too, if she could find him. Maybe they would go easier on him. He had to know Luther was dead if he was still in Charlotte. Did he know of Luther’s plan to give her the information if something happened to him?

  She was pretty sure the cell phone number was a link to Darmus, but there was no answer when she used it. She ended up leaving a message, telling him to meet her at the address in the envelope on Stonewall Street. She doubted he’d come.

  In short, Darmus was in the worst possible trouble. She’d lived long enough with a police detective to know what Al would think. The autopsy result of a diseased liver would help him somewhat. At least they couldn’t accuse him of killing Albert Jackson. Luther’s letter would back him up on that.

  But Darmus was still involved with perpetrating a fraud and probably violating several other laws and regulations by moving a dead body and changing dental records. It would all fall squarely on his thin shoulders when they found him.

  The only thing she knew to do was to go to the address on Stonewall Street and look for Darmus. If she could convince him to turn himself in, it would be easier for him. If not, she would have to consider doing what her conscience told her was right for Albert Jackson, no matter what the personal cost to Darmus.

  Peggy went home but planned to sneak out of the house later that night. She didn’t want to take her family with her, especially when she found out the address in the envelope was a nightclub.

  Paul was working, thank goodness, so she didn’t have to explain her plan to find Darmus to him. He shouldn’t have to compromise his integrity because she had an idea about finding her friend. She didn’t know what he would do anyway. He might decide he had to turn Darmus in before she could talk to him. She was thankful she didn’t have to take that chance.

  But when she explained she had to go out again after having coffee at Steve’s house, Aunt Mayfield, Cousin Melvin, Sam, and Steve all wanted to go with her.

  “What will you do while I’m looking for Darmus?” she asked her relatives. She realized Steve and Sam could be useful, since they knew what Darmus looked like.

  “We’ll just sit back and enjoy ourselves.” Her father nudged her mother. “We haven’t been in a nightclub for years, eh, Mama?”

  “We don’t want to sit here and watch television.” Her mother got her pocketbook as though that settled the matter. “You don’t have many chores to do around here compared to the farm. And we did come here to visit with you, Margaret!”

  “Sweet pea, you should try to slow down,” her father added. “You’d make the Energizer Bunny tired!”

  “You’ll wear yourself out,” Cousin Melvin offered with a yawn.

  “It will make you old before your time,” Aunt Mayfield chipped in.

  “All right!” Peggy gave in. “You can come with me! But you’ll have to sit at a table and enjoy the music. You can’t help me look for Darmus. Too many of us could scare him away.”

  “No need to lecture, Margaret!” her mother said. “We know how to behave in public.”

  “Looks like that’s settled,” Steve responded. “I don’t think we can get everyone in my Vue for the trip over there, but I can use the van I borrowed to transport some sheep to the zoo.”

  Peggy glanced at him, her expressive brows arched.

  “Don’t ask. Let’s just say you have to do what you have to do to stay in business.”

  “Great!” Peggy huffed beneath her breath.

  “Say something, sweet pea?”

  “No, Daddy. Let me get my jacket.”

  8

  Mock Orange

  Botanical: Philadelphus virginalis

  Family: Hydrangeaceae

  A large, deciduous bush with white flowers growing in clumps. The enticing, citrus scent of the flowers was thought to repel insects. The flowers were also used in witches’ incantations.

  THE NIGHT WAS CHILLY and misty after the light rain they’d had that day. They needed the moisture desperately. What they got didn’t even touch the bottom soil where it was really dry, but it was better than nothing. After the dry winter, it was going to be a difficult summer for people and plants. By fall, they’d all be crying for rain.

  All of them piled into Steve’s van, although Sam opted to take his own car since he lived closer to the nightclub than to Peggy’s house. What was supposed to be a secret operation, finding Darmus and convincing him to turn himself in to the police, was now a major effort. Peggy knew her family would never sit at a table and wait for her.
She had to find some way to integrate them into the search before they ruined everything.

  The streets of Charlotte were crowded. Ironically, rain always seemed to bring people out. She had a friend who owned a small restaurant in Dilworth, another section of the city, who always swore the restaurant was more crowded when it rained.

  Saturday nights were busy on the streets anyway. Peggy wasn’t sure, but she thought it might be race week at Lowe’s Motor Speedway. That always meant more people everywhere you went. Adding another 200,000 people visiting the speedway and events to keep them entertained was always hazardous.

  When they arrived at the nightclub, Crush, a fashionable South Beach club on Stonewall, her worst fears were realized. It was packed. People were streaming in and out of the club and packed inside like turnips in a farm truck.

  “Peggy, no one comes here on Saturday night,” Sam assured her when they met inside. “We’re wasting our time.”

  “We have it to waste. Sit still. Look attractive. Maybe someone will take an interest in you.” She didn’t tell him this was her last opportunity to find Darmus without turning to the police. Darmus had wanted a different life, she considered, watching the dancers on the crowded floor. He was about to pay for it.

  “I’m seeing someone,” Sam blurted out with a charming, boyish grin.

  “That’s wonderful!” Ranson exclaimed.

  “How nice, Sam!” her mother chirped in. “You’re such a good person. You deserve to meet someone.”

  Peggy shook her head, more surprised by the break in her thoughts as she searched for Darmus, than Sam admitting he was seeing someone. It always amazed her that he wasn’t mobbed by admiring fans everywhere he went. He was gorgeous, smart, easygoing. If he were twenty years older and not gay . . . she dreaded explaining that part to her family. “Then what were you doing here last night?”

  “We came here together. He works at UNCC. He’s a little older but—”

  She made a face. “Please tell me you’re not dating a professor! Didn’t we just go through this with Selena?”

  “It happens all the time.” Sam looked up as Steve came back with drinks for everyone. “Tell her, Steve. College students are adults. They date professors.”

  “It’s not ethical.” Steve set the drinks on the table. “But I know it happens.”

  “At least I’m not seeing him because I want better grades, like Selena! He doesn’t even teach any of my classes. You know him. Holles Harwood. He’s Darmus’s assistant. He helped him with Feed America, too. Well, he was his assistant anyway. Or is. Which is it?”

  “I don’t know yet.” She took her ginger ale from Steve. She was hoping the conversation had gone over her parents’ heads, but she should have known better.

  “So you’re gay.” Ranson nodded. “I would’ve never guessed it.”

  “You don’t seem gay,” Lilla said.

  “He’s always in a good mood,” Cousin Melvin disagreed. “I’m happy for him.”

  “Not that kind of gay, Melvin,” Ranson told his cousin. “The kind where you date men.”

  “I’ve been married,” Aunt Mayfield snorted. “Men aren’t everything they tell you, I promise you that!”

  Sam started laughing, but Peggy was horrified. They might live on a farm, but did they have to sound like it? “Keep an eye out for Darmus. That’s why we’re here. Sam, you and Steve know what he looks like.”

  “Are you sure he’ll be here?” Steve sat down beside her in the alcove they’d picked for a good view of the club.

  “No, of course not.” Peggy bit her lip. She didn’t want to think of Darmus hiding out here in a crowd of students he’d taught. The idea was too awful. “I don’t know what’s going on yet. But I’d really like to find out.”

  “You mean before the police start looking for him?” Sam played with his straw.

  “You haven’t mentioned this to Holles, have you?” Peggy’s glance was sharp.

  “No. But he could help. He knows what Darmus looks like, too.”

  “The fewer of us who know about this, the better.” She smiled at Sam. “I’m not saying Holles is a bad guy. I like him. But he could slip and tell someone else before I see Darmus.”

  The music was loud, and the crowd continued to grow. It was almost impossible to tell what anyone looked like with the bodies pressed so close together. Peggy felt like standing on the table and searching the faces.

  She didn’t want to find Darmus here. But the alternative might be that they wouldn’t find him at all. It was foolish for him to think he could disappear in a crowd of people he worked with and taught for many years. But didn’t John always tell her people tended to stay close to home when they tried to hide? It was the principle that made escaped convicts easy to find.

  “What’s this fella you’re searching for look like?” her father asked.

  “He’s older, black, very short, and very thin,” Peggy answered. “Outside of that, he’s probably in some kind of disguise. If you know him and you’re looking for him, you might see him. Otherwise—”

  “This isn’t working.” Sam got to his feet. He was taller than most average young men and resembled the god Thor in ancient Viking myths. But he still couldn’t see over or through the crowd. “I’ll walk around and see if I spot him.”

  “Good idea.” Peggy got to her feet facing Sam, away from her family at the table. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be.” He laughed. “They’re fine. You wouldn’t apologize if you’d ever spent time with my family! Don’t worry about it. I’m going to look for Darmus.”

  Steve stood up beside them. “Where do you want to start?”

  “If we spread out, we can cover more space.”

  “Okay. Let’s synchronize cell phones in case we find him.” He searched his pockets. “I forgot my handcuffs. How am I supposed to get him to stay put until you get there?”

  “Think of something. You’re smart. And he’s obviously not himself. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “I’d rather mingle with you.” He snuggled her in close to his side.

  “Steve!” She pulled away and nodded toward her parents, who were watching with interest.

  “We can help, too, Margaret.” Her father got up and nodded to the rest of the family. “If we all spread out, we should be able to find one short, old black fella.”

  “That’s okay, Dad. Remember, you’re supposed to stay right here and listen to the music.”

  Ranson wasn’t happy with that. “Aww, Margaret! Let us help, too.”

  “I don’t want to help,” her mother replied. “It’s dirty and noisy in here.”

  “Thank you!” Aunt Mayfield nodded, her chin almost settling on her chest. “I thought maybe I was the only one who noticed the smudges on these glasses! I shudder to think what the floor looks like.”

  “No telling what diseases are out there.” Cousin Melvin looked at the gyrating bodies on the dance floor.

  “I want to come anyway,” Ranson declared. “I know I can help.”

  Peggy gave in. “All right! But stay with me. I don’t want you to get lost.”

  Steve frowned. “I thought we couldn’t stay together.”

  “Don’t you start!” she warned him. “Look!” She pointed to Holles when she saw him come through the front door. “I hope Sam can keep his mouth shut for a few minutes.”

  “I wouldn’t put any money on it. Sam’s a very open person,” Steve said. “And he thinks Holles can help.”

  “I know. Too open for his own good sometimes.”

  “Well, let’s get this over with.” Steve kissed her. “I’ll call you if I see Darmus.”

  “All right. Thank you.”

  The club got louder with more people squeezing in to listen to the local band onstage. Peggy had never heard of them, but Sam had assured her they were very hot in the nightclub scene in Charlotte.

  “This reminds me of when the pigs come to trough,” her father said loudly. “They push together
as close as they can to make sure they get their share.”

  “Dad, please! I’m trying to concentrate.”

  “And I’m trying to help! And please don’t talk down to us again like that, Margaret Anne! Your mother and I have plenty of gay and black friends back home! We knew exactly what you meant with Sam. We don’t like him any less for it.”

  She smiled at him. “Okay. Sorry. But Aunt Mayfield and Cousin Melvin—”

  “We used to call them rubes.” He laughed. “Not sure what it means, but I think it applies here.”

  Peggy laughed. “Yeah, I think so.”

  She went back to scrutinizing the crowd. Why would Darmus pick a place like this? He’d never spent time at night-clubs or hanging out with whoever was considered cool.

  Peggy saw Hunter, Sam’s sister, and her new boyfriend, who looked like a quarterback, barely moving to the music, wrapped around each other on the dance floor. She tapped Hunter’s bare shoulder. Might as well use whatever resource was available. If Darmus realized what she was trying to do, he might disappear.

  “Peggy!” Hunter quickly unwrapped her arms from around her quarterback and lost the dreamy-eyed expression on her beautiful face. “What are you doing here? Who’s your friend? Have you thrown Steve over?”

  “This is my father, Hunter. Dad, this is Sam’s sister, Hunter. I’m looking for someone.” Peggy smiled at the quarterback. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

  “Sure. I’ll go and grab something to drink.”

  “Hello, Mr. Lee.” Hunter shook Ranson’s hand when her boyfriend was gone. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too, young lady. But I’m a Hughes, not a Lee.”

  “Oh, sorry! Of course you’re not!” Hunter’s face suffused with color. She turned to Peggy. “What’s wrong? Has there been another murder in or around the Potting Shed?” She stood up to her full, impressive height, looking like an avenging goddess with her hands on her hips, the silky material of her pale blue dress outlining her statuesque body.