5 Buried By Buttercups

by Joyce

  “You know what I mean. You said you weren’t going to get involved with cases like this anymore. I’ll bet Paul gave you a hard time.”

  “Not anymore than you,” she quipped. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it.”

  “You were almost killed once or twice trying to solve a case the police couldn’t. How did you expect me to feel?”

  For starters, she’d expected him to back her up on all her decisions. She should’ve had that put into the marriage vows. Honor. Support. Never question.

  Peggy didn’t say anything else about it until they’d reached the house. She was relieved to have driven through the traffic from the airport without getting in an accident. They’d passed several bad wrecks on the way.

  Steve seemed to agree with her silence. He hadn’t said anything about it again either. He got out of the SUV with his bag and opened the kitchen door as Peggy parked the vehicle in the garage.

  He and Shakespeare were enjoying their reunion when Peggy got inside. Steve was on the floor with the Great Dane standing over him, wagging his tail.

  “At least he missed me,” Steve said.

  “Yes, well, he didn’t take part in a murder investigation. He didn’t have to listen to your lecture about his safety.” Peggy closed the kitchen door with an extra push.

  Steve got up and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I worry about you. Someone was killed right across the street and you received a mysterious message. That doesn’t make me happy. Whoever left that message could’ve been inside waiting for you.”

  Peggy thought he looked tired. She ran her hand through his thick, brown hair. There were dark circles under his brown eyes and his face looked a little pale. He also had a small cut on one cheek. She got over her anger when she thought he might be getting sick.

  “You have a vivid imagination and a suspicious mind. Didn’t you sleep well at the conference? You look like you’re coming down with something? How did you cut your cheek?”

  He kissed her. “I’ll be fine. I want you to be fine too.”

  “I am. Really. And I’m glad you’re home.” She hugged him tightly and he yelped, scaring Shakespeare who skidded across the hardwood in his effort to get away from the sound. For all of his size, the Great Dane was scared of everything.

  Peggy let Steve go. She could see he was in pain.

  “It’s only my side,” he told her. “I tripped going down some stairs and maybe bruised something.”

  “Maybe? Didn’t you get an X-ray or something to find out?”

  “It was right before the flight. I didn’t want to stay an extra day. I’ll be fine.”

  Peggy wouldn’t hear of it. She wasn’t happy until he’d taken his shirt off. There was a nasty bruise on his right side and some smaller bruises all over his chest and arms.

  “Did you roll down the stairs?” she asked.

  “No. The rest of it is from handling animals,” he told her. “Don’t worry about it. Things like this happen sometimes.”

  “I think you should go to the doctor. That one bruise may have cracked a rib. You’re so worried about me. I don’t have bruises all over my body like you do.”

  He grinned and grabbed her, despite the pain in his side. “Let’s see.”

  #

  Peggy had left Steve sleeping upstairs as she crept to the kitchen door. She cautioned Shakespeare to keep it down. “He needs his rest. No unnecessary barking. Not that I’m saying the barking you did yesterday wasn’t necessary. Obviously you knew what you were talking about. Thanks for trying to protect me.”

  She called the locksmith to have the front door repaired and left Steve a note that the man was coming.

  The rain had stopped even though the dark clouds still hovered. She didn’t want to take Steve’s SUV in case he needed to go out on a call. Sam had the Potting Shed pickup. His car had broken down last week and she’d told him not to worry about it. He probably wasn’t making enough money from the shop to have his car repaired.

  She’d put on her poncho and rain pants to ride her bicycle back to the medical examiner’s office. Sam and Selena had texted her earlier to let her know they would be at the shop that morning. That meant she could put some time into the murder investigation.

  As Peggy got her bicycle out of the garage, Mr. Bellows suddenly popped out again, this time from behind a large, red maple.

  “Mrs. Lee.”

  He’d managed to startle her again. This was getting ridiculous! She wasn’t a nervous person and didn’t scare easily. It was probably because of the note at the door and Steve’s warning.

  You’re also working on a double murder and you’ve been looking at dead bodies, she reminded herself. It’s different than pollinating plants. Get a grip.

  “Good morning, Mr. Bellows.”

  “I’m here to talk with you again about your garden shop.”

  “I’m really not interested in selling. Please take that as my final answer.” She got on the bike so he’d get the idea that she was in a hurry.

  “I have a considerable knowledge of plants myself,” he continued. “I know you’re a botanist. Perhaps we could share thoughts at some point. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  Peggy didn’t want to know what he was talking about. There was something a little repulsive about him. She knew she shouldn’t be so judgmental. He probably was lacking in social skills. Many men who lived alone seemed to have that problem.

  It wasn’t her job to teach him either.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Bellows. I’m late for work. Maybe we can talk later.”

  Peggy started peddling for all she was worth. She was in Queen’s Road traffic before she noticed that Mr. Bellows was walking down the driveway toward her. She didn’t look back. Whatever he was trying to say would have to wait for another time.

  Because the roads were wet, puddles had formed everywhere. Cars splashed her several times. That’s why she’d taken to wearing the unattractive rain pants. She had to carry dry shoes with her, but at least her pants would stay dry.

  Getting into the medical examiner’s office was much easier this time. She showed the officers her ID and passed through the security checkpoint in less than two minutes. It took longer to find Mai and convince her to check the note Peggy had received.

  “You think someone is trying to harm you?” Mai asked. “You should take it to the police.”

  “I’m not sure what’s going on,” Peggy said. “If you could check it for fingerprints, I’d appreciate it.”

  Mai looked up at her. “How much?”

  “How much what?”

  “How much would you appreciate it?”

  Peggy was a little confused by the question. “If you and Paul need money—”

  “Not money. I was thinking about acorn squash for dinner on Sunday.”

  “Is that all?” Peggy laughed. “Of course.”

  “Plenty of brown sugar.” Mai took the note from her with gloved hands. “No skimping. I’ve had this raging sweet tooth for a few weeks. Maybe we can have candied yams with it. And ham with pineapple and brown sugar on it too.”

  Peggy had never known of Mai to be so intense about food. She agreed to the dinner and watched curiously as Mai walked away with the note.

  There was an email from Al. The investigation into the girlfriend who worked at the florist hadn’t produced anything. He asked how her work was going. She answered that she was looking over all the information again this morning.

  Rain and storms came back across the city as Peggy spent hours poring over the information from the files. There didn’t appear to be any connection to the two men—except the way they had died. They lived similar lives but nothing close enough that could be considered a clue to what had happened to them.

  And there was the thing about their names. Every time she saw their names, it bothered her again. John Lee. John Leigh.

  She started to call Al and ask him about it. She put the phone down. They already knew the men’s
names and didn’t think anything of it.

  She had lunch with Steve. He’d come to get her during the worst part of the storm. They’d gone to check in at The Potting Shed and had lunch from the Kozy Kettle.

  Peggy knew she’d promised not to share any of the official information about the investigation outside of the medical examiner’s office. She felt like her family was different. After all, she was only a consultant. She hoped in talking about the case she might gain some insight.

  Over tea and croissant sandwiches, Peggy explained everything to Selena, Sam and Steve.

  Steve told them all about the note that had been left at the house. “It may not have anything to do with this case, but Peggy has been talking to Nightflyer again. The lock was broken on the door. I think he may be involved.”

  “I thought he went into hiding because things got too hot for him,” Selena said.

  “He didn’t mention that again,” Peggy explained. “I think he does know something about the murders.”

  “You think he left the note in your door?” Sam asked.

  “No. Not really.” Peggy poured herself more peach tea. “I don’t agree with Steve. It’s not really Nightflyer’s MO to leave notes on my door. And he’d never break in that way!”

  Sam laughed. “MO? There she is—all into cop speak. Sorry, Steve. You’ll be seeing a lot less of her.”

  “So will we,” Selena mourned.

  “This is it for Peggy,” Steve said. “She’s not going to keep doing this.”

  Peggy arched a questioning brow in his direction. “I don’t remember that conversation.”

  Selena and Sam exchanged glances.

  “I have something to straighten up in the storage area,” Sam said.

  “Yeah. And I’m going to help him.” Selena dusted croissant crumbs from her Potting Shed T-shirt. “Or something.”

  When the two of them had left the shop area, Peggy sighed. “I hope we’re not going to fight over this. I have specific knowledge that can be used to help the police.”

  “You already use that knowledge at the university.”

  “I want to help, Steve. I’m not good at backing away from challenges.”

  He frowned. “This is dangerous work. People get hurt and killed every day working for the police. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

  “People get hurt and killed every day going back and forth from the airport. That’s not a reasonable argument. Look at you. You got hurt at a veterinarian’s conference. That should tell you something.”

  He studied her freckled face and stubborn green eyes. “I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?”

  “Probably not. At least not with that lame argument.”

  “Lame, huh?”

  “Totally.” She drank the last of her tea. “I have to get back. Do you have plans for this afternoon?”

  “No. I cleared my schedule to get over my conference. Was there something you had in mind?”

  “Dinner. Maybe around six?”

  “Sounds good.” He stood up and held her in his arms for a few minutes. “Please be careful. Call me if anything doesn’t seem right.”

  She smiled at him. “You’ll come and shoot them with a tranquilizer?”

  “Yes. Or whatever else it takes.” He kissed her.

  “Oh God!” Selena covered her eyes when she walked into the shop. “You know this is like seeing my mom and dad making out, right? I’ll be scarred for life.”

  Peggy laughed at her. “You should’ve knocked first. Something worse could’ve been going on.”

  The bell at the door jingled as a customer came in, shaking the rain from her umbrella. Selena grimaced. “She might have seen you two. You should go home if you’re going to do that kind of thing.”

  Sam had told Peggy that business had been brisk that morning, despite the rain. They’d sold twenty bags of mulch. That was a good sign. She went back to work feeling happier. She enjoyed working with the police, but The Potting Shed was even more important.

  She’d kissed Steve goodbye in the parking lot of the medical examiner’s office. Paul was waiting under the overhang from the roof. The look on his face didn’t bode well for their coming conversation.

  “Want me to referee?” Steve asked. “I know Paul feels the same way I do, except stronger.”

  “No. I can handle it. I’ll see you tonight. If you aren’t busy and it’s still raining, will you come and get me?”

  “I can buy you a car,” he offered. “You don’t have to ride your bicycle.”

  “I like my bicycle. A car ride now and then is fine. I’ll see you later.”

  Peggy had assured Steve that she could deal with whatever Paul had to say. When she saw his sweet face—and all that anxiety written there—she wasn’t so sure. Being someone’s mother was very different than being someone’s wife.

  “Hello,” she greeted him first. “It’s good to see you. Having lunch with Mai?”

  “I was. I got a call. Al wants me to bring you to Dilworth. There’s been another murder.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t been prepared for that.

  They got into the police car together. Paul was tight-lipped as he started the car and pulled out into traffic.

  “I know you aren’t happy about me doing this,” Peggy ventured.

  “Not happy doesn’t really express it.” He glanced at her as they stopped for a red light. “I’m sure Steve isn’t happy either.”

  “No. But he understands that he’s going to have to live with it.”

  “Good for him. I don’t get it, Mom. You’re an intelligent, remarkable woman. People in the academic community worship you. You have a thriving business. Why do you need to mess around with this too?”

  “As I told Steve, I have a talent. It’s very specific. I’m surprised you don’t understand. I can help stop whoever is doing this from killing again.”

  “Can you stop him from killing you if he finds out you’re part of this?”

  The light changed and Paul pulled forward. Though Peggy had this conversation with Steve, she didn’t have an answer from a mother to a concerned child. She knew he wanted to protect her. She loved him for it, but she couldn’t live her life being protected from anything that might hurt her.

  They arrived at the crime scene in the Dilworth area of Charlotte, also close to Peggy’s home and the other murder scene, without coming to an understanding on the matter.

  The heavy rain and storms had knocked down yet another old oak tree. Slowly but surely, these giants that had made Charlotte green for a hundred years, were being lost. Too many building projects had uprooted them or damaged their root systems. Too much smog and not enough rain during the hot, dry summers were taking their toll.

  Paul jumped out of the car as soon as he’d stopped. Peggy wished she could find the right words to reassure him, even though they might not be true. How could she guarantee that nothing would ever happen to her?

  At the same time, hadn’t that been the biggest reason she hadn’t wanted him to become a police officer? She didn’t want to lose him as she’d lost John.

  It was a problem for them both.

  Al met her before she could get close to the scene. She saw a form covered by a tarp that was protecting it from the suddenly heavy downfall.

  “I wanted to hit you with this before you find out for yourself,” he said as he drew her into the shelter of his big, black umbrella.

  She didn’t like the concerned look on his face. “What is it?”

  “The victim’s name. It’s Paul Lee.”

  Chapter Six

  Foxglove – Digitalis - Prized for their tall stalks of beautifully colored, bell-shaped flowers. Native to Europe. Plants are the original source for the heart drug, digitalis. When planted with root vegetables, they will stimulate the growth of the crop. Dried, this plant is harmless. Fresh stalks can be deadly. Digitoxin is the poison. Should not be planted in a garden where children and pets play.

  Peggy had to sit in
the police car for a few minutes. The rain slammed into the roof and across the windshield. The old oaks moved with the wind, as much as they could. Yellow and red leaves plummeted to the street with the force of the rain.

  “I’m sorry,” Al said. “I knew it would have an effect on you. I didn’t realize how much. It’s not really Paul under there, you know. Not your Paul anyway. He’s right out there.” He pointed to the group of policemen taking shelter from the rain under the eaves of an old building.

  “I know that isn’t Paul,” Peggy replied. “I’m not upset about that part of it. I think there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

  She told him again about both previous victims being named John—this time including the fact that their middle names were also Lee. She also told him about the note she’d found in her front door.

  “Mai is looking it over for me. I really think this somehow involves me and my family. Does that sound crazy?” she asked.

  Al considered it. “Not when you put it that way. Especially since we have a new victim with your son’s name. Was the note what made the alarm go off yesterday?”

  “No. I don’t think so.” Peggy bit her lip. “The front door was locked when I checked it after the alarm went off. It’s almost like someone worked around the alarm system and put the note there later. If that’s even possible.”

  “There haven’t been any threats against you, have there?” he questioned.

  “No. I don’t understand it. It feels like the killer is baiting me, daring me to find him. I don’t think it’s an accident that these murders have happened close to my house and the victims were killed with plant poison.”

  “I’m beginning to agree with you.”

  A news van pulled up next to them. Two reporters with a video camera scrambled out into the rain. They headed for the crime scene. Officers stepped out of the makeshift shelter to keep them away from the body under the tarp.

  “What was the flower this time?”

  Al took out his cell phone. “I don’t know what it is. I took a picture of it for you.”

  Peggy looked at the wilted pink flower on the dead man’s chest. “Cyclamen. Very poisonous. I suppose the delivery of the poison was the same?”