by Joyce Lavene
Selena got up and stretched her long, thin body. “Just be careful Shakespeare doesn’t make that a nudge of faith that knocks you down the stairs.” She glanced up and saw Steve at the door. “Hey there! I think I should be going. I’d offer to stay and help, but I’m going to study with some friends. Trying to get those grades up, you know.”
“You’ve done plenty anyway. I can never really pay you what you’ve been worth to me. Without you and Sam and Keeley, I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with everything.”
“You’re right.” Selena picked up her jacket and book bag. “You definitely owe me dinner at the Capital Grill. Bye, Steve. Nice talking to you!”
“Bye, Selena.” Steve stood aside and held the door as she left. He smiled at Peggy. “I haven’t talked to you all day. I thought we could have dinner.”
“That would be wonderful,” she replied, closing her bank bag. “But I have an hour cleanup and stocking here.” She consulted the delivery log. “And it looks like I might have a delivery.”
“Anthony does food to go. If he won’t deliver, I think I can manage to go over and get it.”
Her eyes lit up with his offer. Was there another man who was willing to be as flexible as Steve? “Thank you. I’m thinking about giving up my classes at Queens at the end of the year. Maybe that would keep things like this from happening.”
He hugged her and kissed her lips. “I have this feeling your life has always been hectic and always will be. Maybe you just never noticed before.”
“So you don’t think I can simplify?”
“I think anything is possible. But I don’t care either. I like your hectic life. I enjoy being part of it. Even when I’m burning my clothes after following you through mountains of garbage. So, on that note, what do you want to eat?”
While Steve went next door to the Caribbean Café, Peggy began straightening up the shop. There were always tulip bulbs mixed in with the jonquils and vermiculite with the fertilizer. People browsed, picked things up, and put them back down wherever they were in the shop.
She enjoyed walking through the aisles, the feeling of the worn wood floor under her feet. The old boiler kicked on, steam heat hissing through the vents. It reminded her that she was going to have to tackle the issue of having her furnace replaced at the house. That might help her make the decision about giving up her classes. If she had to purchase the furnace herself, she’d be teaching at Queens for another ten years!
The phone rang several times after she dialed Dalton Lee’s phone number. She wished John’s uncle would either get an answering machine or keep the phone with him. Instead, she knew the fifties-style, heavy green phone sat in a corner between the foyer and the kitchen downstairs. Dalton spent most of his time in the library upstairs. With his arthritis, it could take ten minutes for him to get down there and answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Dalton. It’s Peggy. John’s wife.”
“I know who you are. And don’t you mean John’s widow?”
Peggy took a deep breath. Dealing with Dalton was never easy. “I was wondering if I could come by and discuss something with you. Anytime you have free would be fine.”
“Just come to the point, Peggy. What do you want this time?”
Ignoring his curt rudeness, as always, she did as he asked. “I need a new furnace at the house. The old one died about twenty years ago, but we made do. I can’t do anything with it anymore. It has to be replaced.”
“Why are you telling me? Call a furnace man.”
“You know why I’m telling you, Dalton. I’d like the trust to pay for the furnace. It’s not like it won’t be good for whoever moves in after me. If it stays in the house as long as the one I have now, there won’t have to be another one for a hundred years. I’m not planning on living there that much longer.”
“How long are you planning to live there, Peggy? I think you’ve already overstayed your welcome. It’s not your house. If you want the trust to repair it, you’ll have to give up the place. Then we’ll do major renovations before the new owner moves in.”
“I didn’t say I was planning to move. But I probably won’t be alive in a hundred years either,” she rebutted. “I’m not ready to give up the house. But I’d like you to replace the furnace.”
“Replace it yourself. Or move out.”
The phone line went dead. Peggy knew he’d hung up on her. Not surprising. Most of their conversations went that way. How could John have been related to such an obnoxious old coot?
Steve brought back spicy rice and grilled vegetables for dinner. He served it with hibiscus tea and cheddar biscuits. They ate sitting on stools at the checkout counter while the other shops in the courtyard and the arcade closed down around them.
Peggy told him about her disastrous first obedience lesson with Shakespeare and her meeting with the medical examiner. He was surprised they would ask her to testify in a case where a friend was involved.
“There aren’t many experts in botanical poisons for the taking in Charlotte.” She wiped her lips with a napkin. “I suppose Dr. Ramsey was being expedient.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Prove that Beth is innocent. I hope.”
“What if she isn’t?” He took a sip of tea and held her gaze over the glass.
“There’s no doubt of that in my mind, Steve. I know her. She didn’t kill anyone.”
“Maybe she’s banking on you feeling that way. On most people feeling that way. No one wants to think someone would kill their spouse. But she’s got a lot against her, Peggy. Isn’t it at least possible? She did lie about the insurance and kept quiet about the affair. Why would she do that if she were innocent?”
The delivery truck driver honking his horn in the back of the shop kept her from answering. She knew Steve was being hypothetical. But she couldn’t bring herself to see Beth as a killer. No matter what it looked like, she didn’t believe her friend was capable of adding poisoned honey to the jar.
Besides her own belief that Park was already being poisoned in Philadelphia, there was Peggy’s other intuition about people that refused to admit Beth had any part in this. But Steve was a typical person who didn’t know Beth. She could imagine many people feeling that way, especially a jury.
As Steve helped her stow away the boxes of flowerpots, garden implements, and other items, he glanced at her. “I’m sorry if I upset you by saying that about Beth.”
“That’s all right,” she answered, checking out a dozen baby banana trees a customer ordered for her sunroom. The big leaves were drooping, but the plants seemed to be in good shape. “I’m not upset. You’re right in many ways. But I’ll have to be shocked and amazed if she’s guilty of anything more than a little anger when she learned Park was having an affair with his ex-wife.”
“I can see that. If she were my friend for years, I’m sure I’d feel the same. I just wanted you to see there could be another point of view.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you exercising my brain.” She grinned at him as she took off her gloves to sign the delivery slip for the driver.
“That about does it,” the big man said, hitching up his jeans. “See you next time, Peggy.”
“Thanks, Joe. See you next time. Say hello to Maria for me.”
“Will do!”
She locked the back doors and turned off the lights when he was gone. The shop was clean and ready for the next day. It was time to leave. Sometimes, when she was alone, Peggy sat in the rocking chair for a while reading new catalogs and listening to NPR. But tonight, Steve was with her. It made her conscious of the change her life had taken. It was good, but it was different.
“I don’t see what else you can do to help Beth,” Steve said as they got in his SUV. “Besides proving Park didn’t commit suicide, I don’t see what else you can do.”
“I’m not sure right now. I got some obscure information from Nightflyer. I was trying to follow that up.”
The distaste that name broug
ht to him was evident in Steve’s voice. “Nightflyer? Are you still talking to him online?”
“He knows something about what’s going on,” she explained. “I don’t know why he can’t just come out and say it plainly, but it’s a game with him. Like chess.”
“Peggy, this guy is probably dangerous. I don’t know how he knows what he knows, but I don’t like it. He gets too personal with you.”
“I think you’re jealous!” She laughed. “I can’t believe it. But it’s true.”
“I’m not jealous of a crazy man who makes things up and plays a good game of chess,” Steve defended.
“Yes you are! Otherwise you wouldn’t care.”
“I’m concerned. Not jealous. You don’t really know who this man is. He might just seem to be helping you.”
“I told you, he worked with John. He’s not a threat,” she argued. “Except maybe to your ego.”
“My ego?” Steve demanded, turning on Queens Road. “I don’t have an ego. I’m just worried about you. If this guy is so smart and wants to help, why doesn’t he show himself? That’s all I’m asking.”
Peggy reached across the seat and hugged him when they stopped at a traffic light. “I’m not complaining. A woman my age doesn’t expect to have men fighting over her. It’s wonderful!”
He put his arms around her and kissed her fiercely until the light turned green and the car behind them honked its horn long and loud. “That guy doesn’t have a chance.”
Peggy sat back in her seat, a rosy glow on her face, her heart pounding in her chest. “Not at all. But if he can help me save Beth, I’m going to exploit our relationship.”
Steve pulled into Peggy’s drive. “What does that mean? Exploit your relationship. What relationship?”
She wasn’t listening. “What is Hunter doing here?”
“Never mind her,” he continued. “How do you plan to exploit your relationship with Nightflyer?”
But Peggy had already unfastened her seat belt and was out the door, walking quickly toward Hunter as the attorney got out of her vehicle. “Hunter? What’s wrong?”
“They got the results of the old lady’s autopsy back, Peggy. I went in ready for their questions but not ready for them to charge Beth with a double homicide. They arrested her. There was nothing I could do. Her bond hearing is in the morning. I’m sorry.”
13
Strawberry
Botanical: Fragaria ananassa
Family: N. O. Rosaceae
This type is the most widely used today. Not a true fruit but a pseudocarp because of the way the berries form. Native to Eurasia and North America, it was cultivated in Europe in the fifteen hundreds. All parts of the plant are used medicinally.
“HOW DID IT HAPPEN?” Peggy demanded. “What did they find that made them take such drastic action?”
“Apparently, one of Mrs. Lamonte’s bumps and bruises didn’t come from her fall down the stairs. Her skull was cracked, and the ME says it was done by the walking stick. They found some of Beth’s fingerprints. They’re testing her DNA for other evidence. It was an ambush.” Hunter finished and drew a deep breath.
“We have to get her out of there. What kind of bond do you think they’ll ask for?”
“I’m not sure. It could be high. I can’t see how she’d be perceived as a threat to the community exactly, even if they think she killed her husband and mother-in-law, but I suppose they could consider her a flight risk.”
“What time is the hearing scheduled?”
“Nine a.m. I’m going to talk with her before that.” Hunter lowered her head. Her hair gleamed like gold in the streetlight’s glow. “I’m so sorry, Peggy. I thought I was doing a good job. But I didn’t see this coming at all. Maybe Davey was right about not letting Beth answer questions.”
“You did the best you could. You didn’t know what was going on.” Peggy put her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “Is there any way I can get in to see her?”
“Not before the bail hearing tomorrow. But with any luck, I should be able to get her out then.”
Shakespeare was barking frantically from inside the house. Steve’s cell phone rang, and he turned away to answer it. Peggy sighed. No matter what kind of trouble went on, the everyday aspects of life continued. “I suppose there’s nothing more we can do tonight. I’ll meet you at the courthouse tomorrow, Hunter. You can only do the best you can, sweetie. I have complete faith in you. I know Beth does, too.”
Steve put his arm around Peggy’s shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not really,” she responded. “Was that an emergency call?”
“Yeah. A woman’s dog was hit by a car on South Boulevard. She’s bringing him in to the clinic. I can come back when I’m finished.”
A cold breeze rustled through the oaks that surrounded them, and Peggy shivered. “I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do tonight except pray. Maybe tomorrow we’ll need everyone to help out with something. Tonight, I think all we can do is get a good night’s sleep.”
Hunter crossed her arms protectively against her chest. “I hate feeling stupid!”
“Go home!” Peggy advised. “You’re not stupid. And you’ll come up with something.”
When Hunter was backing her SUV out of the drive, Steve’s eyes focused on Peggy. “You’re going to get a good night’s sleep tonight and not try to exploit your relationship with the crazy man online, right?”
She stared back. “I’m going to do the best I can to help Beth, Steve. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She could tell he wasn’t happy with her answer. But honesty compelled her not to swear she wouldn’t contact Nightflyer. If he knew anything that might help Beth, Peggy wanted to know, too.
Steve looked away first. “Just be careful. I kind of like our relationship, even if you can’t exploit me for information unless it has something to do with cats or pregnant hamsters. This guy could be dangerous.”
She hugged and kissed him as Hunter’s headlights flashed on them. It reminded her of a night in Charleston when she stayed out too late with John, and her father had come out to look for her. She was kissing John when he found them behind the smokehouse. Her father blew the horn several times, then used the high beams on them.
Recalling that moment, and the embarrassment that followed, made her smile. It was amazing how the events of a lifetime could be encapsulated and brought back in a single flash of memory, even thirty years later. But she wasn’t twenty anymore. She didn’t care who saw her kissing someone.
Well, at least she didn’t think she cared. Without her father trapping her in his headlight beams, it was hard to say.
“I’ll be fine,” she finally assured Steve, the man presently in her arms. “Don’t worry so much. It will give you frown lines. Go and take care of your patient. I’ll let you know as soon as something changes.”
“I wish I could go with you in the morning. But I have a surgery scheduled for nine. Call me and let me know what happens.”
“I will,” she promised. “Good night. See you tomorrow.”
PEGGY E-MAILED NIGHTFLYER AN invitation from the new chess site. He didn’t respond. She waited half an hour in front of her computer before finally changing clothes and going downstairs to check on her plants. Tonight was the night she was scheduled to release the hero bugs that would save her hapless strawberry plants.
Sometimes it disturbed her sense of empathy with the plants to experiment on them. There they were, going along thinking they lived in a perfect world. Then suddenly, a plague of biblical proportions was released on them. It didn’t seem fair, but such was the nature of experimentation.
The thrips and spider mites she’d released had gnawed hungrily on the strawberries. But their damage was contained, in this case, by limiting the number of bugs. In a normal strawberry patch, the damage could be catastrophic. She looked at a half-eaten strawberry that had fallen off the plant and shook her head.
Making note of everything,
she released the lacewings and ladybugs she’d bought from the insect warehouse. Many places had begun growing their own helpful insects to sell to gardeners. The only problem was keeping them around. Once the food supply was gone, the insects typically flew off to find more. That’s where the right environment came in, encouraging them to stay.
Thankfully, her enclosure around the strawberries seemed to be containing what was sure to be an epic battle. Thrips and mites would play havoc with her other plants as well if they escaped. This way their only food source was the strawberry plants.
After recording the progress of the rest of her experiments and watching the frog in the pond, Peggy went back upstairs to check for Nightflyer. There was still no response to her challenge. Maybe his old war injury was bothering him again. She left the chess site and went on to look for poisonings in the daily papers online.
She followed up the story about the man in Dubuque. The poison was still unknown, but the man was alive and listed in fair condition. She took note of his physician’s name and sent an e-mail to the hospital for further information on the case.
Two more unknown poisonings caught her attention. One was in Syracuse, New York, and the other was in Staunton, Ohio. Both were men. One was in serious condition in the ICU. The other was in serious but stable condition. She e-mailed both hospitals for updated information on the cases.
She needed a list of people who stayed at the hotel in Philadelphia and received the gift baskets that contained the honey. The police probably already had that information but weren’t likely to share. With Mai’s anxiety about her job, she couldn’t ask her to check. But if there were other cases of poisoned honey, Hunter could use that in Beth’s defense.
They needed a way to prove the poison was already at work before Park returned home. That would, at least, clear Beth of any wrongdoing where Park was concerned. It wouldn’t help with the charge against her for what happened to Isabelle, but like any other sequential event, one step at a time.