Fruit of the Poisoned Tree plgm-2

by Joyce Lavene

  When they realized what happened, drivers jammed on their brakes to avoid the accident scene. Car horns sounded as several vehicles slammed into the cars in front of them. Angry drivers yelled and cursed from open windows. Nothing moved on the left side of the road going toward Charlotte, but traffic flowed freely in the right lanes going out of town.

  “Pull over!” Peggy was already opening her door. Shakespeare started barking as Sam pulled off on the brown, grassy shoulder. She jumped out of the truck, pushing the Great Dane back as he tried to go with her. “Stay, Shakespeare!”

  “Wait, Peggy! Where are you going?” Sam tried to call her back. “You’re going to get killed out there.” He tried to follow her, but cars whizzed by, honking their horns when they saw his door open. He watched her run through traffic, zigzagging to the tune of angry curses and blasting car horns. The first clear instant, he jumped out to follow her.

  Once they saw the wreck, drivers in the three right lanes slowed down or stopped to point and gasp, bringing traffic to a crawl on that side as well. It made it easier for Peggy to cross the road. If traffic had been flowing as it usually did at seventy miles an hour or better, she might be injured or dead.

  Not stopping to consider the matter, Peggy got to the left side of the mud and dodged the cars that were erratically trying to move around the steaming wreck before the police got there and shut everything down. Only a few close drivers actually saw the car come down from the ramp. Most were still trying to figure out what stopped their commute.

  “Call 911,” a man called out from one of the cars she passed. The back end of his car was smashed from the violent stop he made behind the car that fell from the ramp. There was a nasty red gash on his forehead.

  “I will,” she yelled back without stopping. “Stay where you are. Help will be here soon!” She pushed 911 on her cell phone and yelled at the dispatcher when she answered.

  Peggy reached the wreck, heart pounding, breath frosting in the cold air. She couldn’t see the car clearly on the overpass before it went down. It was just a blur of color and form. But something told her it wasn’t a stranger who went over the ramp in front of her.

  Intuition swamped her emotions. She knew someone she cared about was involved. There was no scientific proof to back her theory; until she looked at the new burgundy-colored Lincoln.

  Even then her mind denied it, tried to negotiate with the truth. There have to be hundreds of burgundy Lincolns in Charlotte. What are the chances this could happen? Yet even as she clawed at the knowledge, she knew the truth: It was Park Lamonte’s car.

  Hundreds of pictures of her college friend flew through her mind like squalls passing over the ocean. He was funny. Sarcastic. Playing pranks like Sam. How many times had she told John back in those days she would’ve married Park if she hadn’t met him first?

  Then they graduated, and he went on to law school in Chapel Hill. They were still close for a time, arguing about right and wrong late into the night. Even later, their friendship endured. He was there when they came to tell her about John’s death. He was there when they buried him.

  It couldn’t be Park. But she knew it was.

  The car had come down nose first, then flipped over to rest on the roof after rolling a few yards. It was a miracle another car hadn’t run right into it. Not that it mattered. The damage from the fall was extensive. Metal and plastic were crushed and wrenched into terrible shapes. Smoke came from the engine, but Peggy couldn’t see any sign of fire yet. That was amazing, too. It seemed like the impact should’ve caused the car to explode. The cement was creased beneath it.

  She lay down on the cold, wet pavement and looked in through the smashed driver’s-side window. The opening was barely a few inches high. She prayed another miracle had occurred and he was still alive. “Park? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes.” He reached out a hand to touch the one she dared to slide through the shattered glass. “Peggy? Is that you?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was thick with tears she tried to hold back. She squeezed his hand, felt the warm blood oozing over the cold flesh. “Hold on. I hear help coming.”

  “That was quite a splash, huh?” He tried to laugh, but ended up making a gurgling noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t know what happened. I think I fell asleep. One minute I was up there. Then the car was falling. It smashed down here. It was . . . awful.”

  “But you’re still alive, Park. You’re going to be all right.”

  “It never happened to me before,” he continued, rambling, “but you were right when I saw you at the hotel. I’ve been sick. I guess that’s why I fell asleep. Either that or too many carbs. You know what a sweet-eater I am. Beth always said it would be the death of me.”

  “It’s all right.” Peggy wished she could see his face, but the angle of the car and the damage done to it made it impossible. She wished they hadn’t argued the last time she saw him. She prayed she had more time to make amends. “They’ll come and get you out. You’ll be fine. Just hold on a few more minutes.”

  “Tell Beth I love her.”

  “You’ll be able to tell her yourself,” she argued. “You’re too mean and tough to die this way. Just don’t let go. You’ll be fine.”

  “I think my luck has run out this time.” She heard him fight to draw a ragged breath. “I don’t know how this happened. Beth made me get a checkup last month. The doctor said I was fine.”

  “I don’t know, Park,” she admitted. “I don’t know how it happened either. We can find out later. The important thing is you’re still here. You can make it through this. I’ll stay with you until someone gets here who can help. Just squeeze my hand.”

  She felt him try to move. He was pulling at something, maybe the seat belt, trying to push himself out of the crushed driver’s seat. Pieces of glass from the windshield rained down on the pavement as the car shook with his efforts. She clutched his hand, urging him not to move again. She didn’t want to think about the damage already done to his body. Where were the paramedics?

  “Can you get me out? I have to get out of here!” Park tried to push against the door that separated them. “For God’s sake, Peggy, get me out of here! The car is going to catch fire!” His voice ended on a weak, terrible cry. “Peggy, help me, please!”

  She sobbed. There was nothing she could do. Sam was beside her in the street. He put his hand on her shoulder. They could hear the paramedics getting closer; smell the strong exhaust fumes from the cars and trucks that passed them.

  Peggy held Park’s hand even when it went limp and he didn’t respond to her calls. She didn’t move away from the car. She wouldn’t leave him. Tears froze on her face. Her knees ached from the cold, hard ground. She kept telling him to hold on, help was coming. He couldn’t die this way.

  The firemen, police, and paramedics finally arrived in a loud, busy stream. Sam helped Peggy to her feet as the rescue workers pushed toward them. She could barely hold herself up, numb from the cold. They moved out of the way and stood in the street while the police diverted traffic to the other lanes of the interstate.

  The police officers asked about anyone being hit on the ground by the car. Sam told them he didn’t see anyone. Peggy heard all of it as a dim fog formed around her brain. She watched as they tried to decide how to free Park from the wreck. Firemen took out the Jaws of Life and pried open the metal body of the Lincoln like a can of peas. Paramedics rushed in as soon as he was visible.

  When she looked down, her hand was covered in his blood. Or her blood. She wasn’t sure which. Did she cut herself putting her hand through the window? She knew it was too late when they pulled his mangled body from the car. A doctor, stopped in traffic by the accident, pronounced him dead a little after eleven a.m.

  “Anything you can tell us about how this happened?” Highway Patrol officers joined the group working at the scene and started asking questions. “Where were you when the car came down?”

  “We were in the southbound lane. We saw it hap
pen like everyone else,” Sam answered. “We’re parked on the shoulder over there. We came over here to see if we could help.”

  “He was my friend.” Peggy’s voice wavered as she spoke. She was freezing inside and out. Shock was beginning to set in. Nothing the officer said made any sense to her. “I have to call his wife.”

  “We’ll take care of that, Dr. Lee. You just take it easy, ma’am,” the officer told her after getting her name and address from Sam when she didn’t answer him. “Could you tell from what you saw if Mr. Lamonte skidded off the ramp? Was there ice up there?”

  “We were too far away,” she finally said, more to herself than him. “It didn’t look like he tried to stop at all. The car flew past the barriers. He told me he fell asleep. It wasn’t like him. But that’s what he said.”

  She couldn’t bear to have someone tell her this was his fault. It might come out that way later, but she’d feel more herself by then. At that moment, she felt consumed by the event. She turned away from the officer and tried to focus on something else. Park’s car was squarely in front of her. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed.

  “I appreciate your help, ma’am. We’ll finish up here if you’d like to leave.” The young patrolman smiled solicitously. He nodded to Sam and walked back toward other witnesses who were standing outside their cars with their arms wrapped around themselves as the icy wind rushed by.

  Peggy stared at the wrecked car, not able to believe her friend was dead. Some crazy notion took hold of her half-functioning brain as she recalled they were supposed to have dinner Friday night. She’d have to call Park’s wife, Beth, and cancel. Or would Beth call her?

  Sam put his warm arm around her shoulder and urged her toward the truck, worry and emotion softening his voice. “Come on. Let’s go. There’s nothing else we can do here. Let’s go back to the Potting Shed and get some tea.”

  Peggy didn’t see the ambulance driver zip the black bag closed over Park’s face. But she heard the sound. It shredded across her skin like a knife. She took a deep breath and held tightly to Sam’s hand. “You’re right. Thanks for staying with me. I’m ready now.”

  Shakespeare was barking and jumping in the cab of the truck. Sam had to push him down on the seat before he could get inside. He held the dog back so Peggy could open her door. The roar of traffic never ebbed. Horns blared and drivers shouted obscenities as they swerved away from them.

  Even after they were safe in the warmth and quiet of the vehicle, Peggy could only stare out the window. She had no words to express the emotions smothering her. She wanted to make polite conversation with Sam. She could feel his anxious glances in her direction.

  She got a Sani-Wipe out of her pocketbook and cleaned her hand as best she could. The glass hadn’t cut her. But she couldn’t force herself past the terrible blackness that wouldn’t wipe away as easily as the blood.

  They were back at the Potting Shed before she realized where they were. The trip was a blur of sound and color that had no meaning. She kept seeing Park’s tired gray face at the hotel in Philadelphia as they argued about the estuary.

  “Do you want me to take you home?” Sam’s blue eyes were studying her face. He took her cold hands in his and chafed some warmth into them. “You don’t have to be here right now. Selena and I can take care of everything. Keeley should be here soon, too.”

  She patted his hand and forced herself to smile and speak. “I’ll be fine. I didn’t mean to scare you. It was such a shock. But life goes on, doesn’t it? I have to call Rue and let her know I’m not coming. Maybe she’ll have another appointment open in the next few days.”

  “Okay.” He scratched his head and opened the truck door. “Maybe it’ll be better for you to be here instead of by yourself anyway. Would you like me to call Steve or Paul?”

  “Of course not.” She stared at him. “I’m fine. There’s no reason to bother them. I just need a few minutes to pull myself together. I’ve known Park a long time. I think I’ll go in and have some tea. Then I’ll go see Beth.”

  Sam formally escorted her inside, helping her sit down in the rocking chair that always ended up being part of the seasonal scene they created. In this case, she found herself seated beside the snowman they made with white Styrofoam. There was a robin on his shoulder and crocuses blooming, purple and yellow, from the band of his hat. Underfoot was a white blanket that was supposed to simulate snow. Here and there multicolored plastic flowers bloomed, showing their customers spring was only a few weeks away.

  After a brief whisper from Sam, Selena rushed to the Kozy Kettle for Peggy’s favorite peach tea. She came back with a large cup of tea, some cookies, and Sofia. “I heard what happened.” Emil’s hearty blond wife crossed herself several times. “No one should have to die that way. It’s like the time my uncle Georgio died after he was crushed by the boulder. Who knew it would roll down and kill him someday, eh?”

  Peggy accepted the hot mug, warming her cold hands on it, grateful for the tea and Sofia’s distraction. “Boulders falling on you is pretty tough to beat.”

  “I don’t know.” Sam shuddered. “I’m never going on another ramp. That was too much like a movie.”

  Selena put her arm around him and handed him a cup. “I got you some coffee. It has chocolate in it. That should make you feel better.”

  “I hate it that Park died that way. He was so alone. I know he wanted to see Beth and the boys again. There wasn’t time.” Peggy ignored the banter.

  “Georgio at least got to say good-bye.” Sofia shook her head. “Aunt Sarifina was in the house when it happened. She rushed outside to find him under the boulder.”

  Selena wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Poor Uncle Georgio and Aunt Sarifina. What did they say to each other?”

  “She beat him in the head with her towel. It was the only part of him she could get to. She said, ‘I told you to quit digging under that thing, didn’t I? Idiot!’ ”

  Selena rolled her eyes and walked away. Sam held his laughter until he was on the aisle with the fertilizer and mulch.

  Sofia took Peggy’s hand in hers. “You go through so much for your friends. If you need me, let me know. You could come and stay with us. God knows you should be with someone instead of rattling around in that big old house alone.” She paused and narrowed her heavily made-up eyes. “Have you had your house appraised recently? My cousin is in real estate, you know. She could get you a good price.”

  Peggy almost choked on her tea. “Thank you, but I want to keep the house. I appreciate you coming over, Sofia. Thanks for the tea.”

  “Anytime. What are friends for, eh?”

  When the other woman was gone, Selena left the front counter. “How can you sit there and listen to her? She’s crazy!”

  “She means well,” Peggy told her. “And why did you tell her about the accident? You go over there every day for tea. She wouldn’t have come if there wasn’t anything interesting going on over here.”

  “You mean nothing she could relate a family story to?” Sam snorted. “She should write a book.”

  Selena shrugged. “I don’t know. She looks at me with those crazy-person eyes, and I can’t help it. She asked me what was wrong, and I had to tell her. It was creepy.”

  Sam brought a ripped bag of fertilizer up to the front with him. “Maybe you shouldn’t go in there anymore, Selena. Or maybe you should wear dark glasses when you go. That way her ‘crazy-person eyes’ can’t get you.” He made extraterrestrial whirring noises and chased Selena around the store.

  Peggy focused on their bickering to push herself back to reality. What happened to Park was no less real to her, too fresh in her mind to chase away. But this was real, too. This was life. This was what continued. Even when she was gone, life would still go on. “Selena, can you stay while I go and see Beth? I don’t want her to be alone.”

  “I have some studying to do for a math exam. But the shop’s been quiet. I can do it here.” Selena glanced up at Sam’s thunderous face as
she finished. “What?”

  “I only have one run to make.” Sam mouthed the words, Shut up! Don’t remind her the shop has been slow! She feels bad enough already, to Selena. “I have to take those orchids to the Millers for the party tonight. Then I’ll be here, too. Want me to drive you over to Beth’s when I get back?”

  “That’s fine, Selena. Thank you. And thanks anyway, Sam, but I’ll take my bike.” Peggy started to get up from the rocking chair. Selena and Sam rushed to take one of her hands and help her up. They were obviously overwrought as well. “I think I need some cold air in my face. I’m going to leave Shakespeare here since Beth has so many antiques in her house.”

  “I’ll finish up that customer database when I get done studying,” Selena promised, then tried to make up for her previous words. “I didn’t mean the shop was going under or anything. I just meant it’s slow. But it’s always slow in February, right?”

  “Pretty much.” Peggy put her cup on the counter and realized she hadn’t taken off her jacket since she came inside. “I’ll talk to you later.” She went to the restroom and switched on the light, mindful of them watching her. She remembered acting the same way when her grandmother was ill, before she died. Standing there watching her, wishing there was something she could do. Sam and Selena were like family to her.

  The towelette from her pocketbook had cleaned most of her hand. She scrubbed her nails thoroughly with hot water and disinfectant soap, then looked at herself in the mirror. It always amazed her how the most terrible things could happen and never show up on a person’s face. Oscar Wilde had the right idea in The Picture of Dorian Gray. It was like they all had portraits somewhere that absorbed life’s impact.

  Before she left, she picked up a small marjoram plant she’d potted weeks before. Comfort and consolation. It was all she had to offer Beth at this time.