Fruit of the Poisoned Tree

by Joyce; Jim Lavene

  “Let’s not talk about him right now. It will ruin my mellow mood.” She put the strawberries into the refrigerator, and he put his arms around her. She turned around and kissed him. “I hope I have something to eat for dinner, or we’re just going to be eating a lot of junk food all night.”

  “That’s what bad weather is for. You’re from the South. You know that. Who wants to eat what’s good for them on a night like this?” He kissed her. “I don’t care anyway. I’ve got you to keep me warm.”

  “That and my working fireplaces, right?”

  “Those were just an excuse.” He kissed her neck and nipped at her ear. “I just needed you to let me in the front door. I knew I could convince you of anything after that. You’d be putty in my hands once you saw cheesecake and the right movie.”

  She laughed as she enjoyed his warmth. “How nicely cliché of you! You sound a little like a vampire.”

  “A goody-bearing vampire,” he reminded her as he lightly bit her neck. “Not the nasty, bloodsucking kind.”

  Shakespeare started barking and running toward the kitchen door. “He’s been so crazy since I got back,” Peggy complained. “I thought he’d settle down by now. I hope the obedience classes help him. Otherwise my insurance agent might demand I get rid of him.” She told Steve about the broken pot.

  His eyes widened with amazement. “Are you kidding me? Eighty thousand dollars for an old jug? Was it made out of gold? Why didn’t you keep it in a safe?”

  A knock on the door startled them both. “Well at least he seems to be a good watchdog. He knew someone was out there before we did.” Peggy went to answer it, ignoring his questions. How did one explain the value of a pot, hand-thrown by a poetry-writing slave two hundred years ago, if it wasn’t transparent to the other person?

  “Was that the old brown jug by the front door? What kind of jug costs that much money?” Steve demanded, following her. “I mean, did it have gemstones in it or something?”

  Peggy had her hand on the doorknob when it opened. “The door was unlocked,” Paul explained with a frown, seeing the surprised expression on her face. “You should keep this door locked. If you won’t set the alarm system, you could at least lock the doors. Oh. Hi, Steve. How’s it going?”

  “Hello Paul. How are you?” None of Steve’s disappointment at not spending the evening alone with Peggy showed in his face.

  “Fine, thanks.” Peggy’s son took off his jacket and rubbed his cold hands together. “I thought I’d come over and see how things are going, Mom. I didn’t know you had company. I probably shouldn’t stay. You probably want to be alone, huh?”

  “Company?” She laughed. “Don’t be silly! It’s just Steve. We were about to have some snacks. It would be wonderful if you could stay.”

  “And watch a movie about vampires.” Steve’s eyebrows went up and down suggestively at Peggy behind Paul’s back.

  “Sounds great!” Paul looked at them both. “I haven’t had dinner yet. Are you sure there’s enough for me?”

  An instant of silence was immediately followed by assurances that he was welcome to join them. Peggy smiled at Steve. He shrugged and smiled back at her as Paul told them about his day. There would be another time for the two of them to be alone.

  “I’m glad you’re off duty so you don’t have to deal with the accidents that will pile up tonight.” Peggy looked around for something that could be dinner. She needed to shop, something she hadn’t done since getting back from Pennsylvania. “Al stopped for a couple of them on the way back from Queens this evening.”

  “What was he doing at Queens?” Paul asked as he helped himself to an overripe banana from the basket on the table.

  She absently explained about what happened earlier in the day with Isabelle, her mind on other things. There was some leftover rice in the refrigerator. If she added some peppers and eggs, that might be enough for a meal. Where were those Bojangles’ biscuits she brought home?

  “Between you being at the accident scene when Lamonte died and his mother asking you to go to the police, that puts you in the middle, doesn’t it?” Steve said as he helped her with the rice.

  “I suppose so. Al seemed to think so anyway. But there wasn’t much I could tell him.” She glanced up at Paul, who was looking at her strangely. “Is something wrong? Have you stopped eating rice?”

  “That’s pretty weird. I was lucky to get out of the precinct when I did,” Paul explained as he helped himself to a piece of cheesecake from the refrigerator. “The news about Mrs. Lamonte was coming in just as I was leaving. Five more minutes and I’d still be there. Between the weather and the unexplained death, everyone who was there will be held up all night. They called Mai in five minutes after I left.”

  Peggy quit rummaging for biscuits. “What about Beth? What happened?”

  “Not that Mrs. Lamonte, Mom. The old one. The one you’ve always called Dragon Queen.” Paul looked at her. “Didn’t you hear? Somebody found her dead at her house.”

  7

  Camellia

  Botanical: Camellia thea

  Family: N. O. Camelliaceae

  Common names: Tea plant

  Historically dated back to 150 B.C., the camellia is a native of India but was cultivated very early in China. Both green and black tea come from the same species. Camellia is grown extensively for its beautiful, lush green foliage and multi-petaled flowers in the southern U.S.

  “WHEN DID IT HAPPEN? ” Peggy waved the spatula she held as she scooped rice into a pan to fry it again. “How did she die?”

  “I don’t know the details, or I’d still be there.” Paul shrugged. “Sorry. I could call Mai, if you like. I know you’re a friend of the family. Bad luck to lose two members in a less than a week, huh?”

  It seemed like more than bad luck to Peggy. It would be different if they both died from natural causes. Of course she didn’t know about Isabelle yet. The Dragon Queen was old and frail. She could’ve had a heart attack in her grief about Park. She itched to know what happened. “No. That’s okay. I’m sure we’ll all find out tomorrow. I don’t want you to have to go in because of my curiosity. Let’s get some food and watch a movie.”

  Halfway through the movie, the power flickered and went out. Paul was already asleep and snoring on the sofa. Peggy and Steve sat together in front of the fireplace. A chessboard was set between them. It was always difficult to say which of them would win the game. They were evenly matched. Steve was up one game at the moment, but Peggy knew the tide would change in her favor eventually.

  “Will this cold snap hurt your plants?” Steve asked as he made a move.

  “No. I have a small generator in the basement.” She examined his move and considered her own. “The power rarely stays off that long. Even after Hurricane Hugo hit here, the power was back on in a few days. I’m close to the university and the hospital. Between them, the city crews move pretty quickly.”

  “Do you think the old lady was right about her daughter-in-law?” Steve sat back as he stretched his long limbs in the chair. “If anything suspicious happened to Isabelle, it could be bad for your friend, Beth.”

  Peggy moved her bishop. “Since we don’t know what happened to Isabelle yet, let’s assume it wasn’t anything unusual. She was a terror, but she wasn’t healthy. What happened to Park may have been too much for even her iron constitution.” She didn’t admit that the thought of suicide crossed her thoughts. Isabelle was in a terrible state of mind. She was so alone without Park. It wasn’t impossible to imagine the old woman going that way on a cold winter’s night.

  “Do you think she killed herself?” Steve suggested as he made his next move.

  She looked up at him. He was very perceptive. It struck her frequently since she met him that he almost seemed psychic around her. Had he noticed? If so, he hadn’t said anything. “I suppose it’s possible. She didn’t have much to live for. But I really can’t imagine her doing it before she had a chance to see what happened with the investigation i
nto Park’s death. She was aggressive about catching his killer.”

  They finished the game as the fire in the hearth burned down to red coals. Peggy won. They were game for game and decided to leave it at that. The room was warm and smelled like popcorn. Steve added wood to the coals as Peggy put a blanket across her son. She looked at his sleeping face, thinking how much he still resembled his five-year-old self. He reminded her so much of John, even though people always said he looked like her.

  With the portable radio playing weather updates between some old jazz music, Peggy and Steve settled in for the night together on a large green velvet love seat in front of the window that looked out on the street. The drape Shakespeare ripped down was still gone, so they could look outside. There were no cars, just the white flakes covering the trees and houses. The snow illuminated everything, making it easy to see, even without streetlights. Shakespeare came and lay down with a thud on the floor beside them.

  “This is a great way to enjoy the bad weather,” Steve whispered, his arms around her.

  Peggy yawned and rested her head against him. “People up North don’t know what they’re missing by carrying on.”

  “Of course, if they didn’t, everyone’s lives would fall apart since they have snow almost every day over the winter.”

  She smiled as she closed her eyes, listening to the steady sound of his heart. “That’s true enough. I guess we’re just lucky.”

  He rested his head against hers and sighed. “I guess we are.”

  SHAKESPEARE WAS UP AND barking at four a.m. when the power came back on and the snowplow went down Queens Road. Like a switch turned the world back on, Steve’s cell phone went off with an emergency call from the owner of a sick chow. He grabbed some coffee as it perked, kissed Peggy, and was gone.

  Paul was barely awake when they called him back to work. He ate the last of the cheesecake and strawberries before rushing out the door.

  Peggy sat down at the table to watch television and see how the city fared during the night. “I guess it’s just you and me again.” She patted Shakespeare’s massive head as she fed him.

  The snow had stopped a little after midnight. Now everyone was digging out of six inches of ice and snow that locked up all of Charlotte, including the airport. The police were advising that no one venture out on the streets unless it was an emergency. Just seeing the cars skidding to the side of the empty interstate was enough to convince most people. But there was always someone with a Jeep who thought he knew better.

  There was a small mention of Isabelle’s death during the night. But two other people had died as well, their deaths attributed to the storm, so the station didn’t devote much time to it. Maybe it had been resolved. Maybe the old lady did die from some natural cause. Peggy closed her eyes and prayed it was something simple, but she knew she wouldn’t be happy until she found out.

  By the time she checked on her plants, walked the dog, and got dressed in a warm turquoise wool pantsuit, the snow was melting under the bright February sun. The blue sky was blinding against what was left of the white landscape. The frozen night was miserable for police and county road crews who tried to keep people in their homes and out of ditches. They were still up and patrolling the city, blear-eyed with lack of sleep but dedicated to their work.

  Most residents of the Queen City were happy to oblige the call to stay home, especially the children who missed school that day. School buses and drivers weren’t equipped to handle bad weather. They’d have to make the day up somewhere, probably out of a teacher workday.

  Peggy slogged through what was left of the slush, stepping around a frozen camellia bush whose bright red flowers struggled through the cold. You’re a flame in my heart. She translated the flower’s meaning as other people translate French or Spanish. She brushed some of the snow and ice from it before she crossed the street. With the weight lifted off of it, the glossy green branches sprang back up from the sidewalk. “That’s better!”

  She made her way to Isabelle’s house on foot. It wasn’t more than a mile. She missed her bike, forgetting how slow it was to walk, but she was worried the frozen ruts in the road would be too hard to maneuver. And there were the abandoned cars littering the streets, parked on the side and in the center. A good time to be a tow truck driver, she mused as she watched some of them at work.

  She was hoping not to see police cars and the crime scene van when she finally reached the street where Park grew up, but she was disappointed. It meant nothing was resolved. Isabelle’s death was questionable. It was as easy to read that as it was to know what the flowers meant.

  Park’s ex-wife, Cindy, was standing on the steps talking to police officers. Her golden hair was perfectly groomed around her pretty face as she dabbed delicately at her tears. Peggy’s eyes narrowed. What is she doing here?

  “Good morning! Is it all right if I come through?” Peggy ignored the yellow crime scene tape to approach Al and Lieutenant Rimer when she saw them outside the two-story, redbrick home.

  “No!” Jonas Rimer stalked toward her, his arms waving like a frantic scarecrow. “It is not okay if you come through. This is a crime scene, Peggy. That doesn’t mean someone can cross the line just because they know a few police officers.”

  “Well it’s more than that, Jonas,” she assured him. “I knew Isabelle. She was at my shop yesterday. I was hoping you could tell me what happened to her.”

  “Nothing happened to her,” he said. “Go home. Read the paper like everybody else. You shouldn’t be out on the street anyway. You might fall and break something.”

  “If nothing happened, why are you here?” Peggy’s eyebrows raised above impertinent green eyes. She decided to ignore his agitated remarks about her fragility. The man was under pressure and obviously not himself. “Come on, Jonas. You might as well tell me. You know I can stand here and ask questions until I find out.”

  “We think she was pushed down the stairs,” Al explained as he shrugged. “You might as well tell her, Lieutenant. She’s gonna find out anyway.”

  “So is everyone else in the city.” Jonas turned on him furiously. “But we aren’t going to go around with a loudspeaker telling everyone what happened.”

  Al put his hands in his pockets. “Sorry. But she did help us on the Warner case. And she did try to help us with Isabelle Lamonte’s accusation.”

  “Yes she did.” Jonas smiled at Peggy. “And I know you’re in tight with most of the bigwigs in this city. But you can’t help with this one. You should go home and wait for the six o’clock news.”

  “It’s terrible about Isabelle.” Peggy pushed past Jonas toward Al as if she hadn’t heard him. “But why the police investigation? She always kept the house as dark and cold as a tomb. She probably missed the top stair and fell.”

  “The lieutenant thinks the other Mrs. Lamonte might be involved. We heard about the scene between them over at her house yesterday.” Al glanced back at Cindy Walker. “And you know we had that call from the elder Mrs. Lamonte about her daughter-in-law being involved in her husband’s death. It didn’t make any sense yesterday. Today, it might need some answers.”

  “It still doesn’t make any sense today.” Peggy wished she could get inside and take a look around. What could possibly be in there that could make them suspect Beth?

  “That was before this happened,” Jonas decided to tell her before Al said it all. “We found some suspicious circumstances in the house. Enough to investigate anyway. The crime scene people have been here all night.”

  “What kind of circumstances?” Peggy looked at both of them.

  “Never mind.” Jonas checked himself and glared at Al. “And if you know what’s good for you, Detective, you won’t say anything else about this either.”

  Al scuffed his shoe on the wet sidewalk. “Sorry, Peggy. That’s about all I can tell you.”

  She had to be satisfied with that verdict. A tumble down the stairs didn’t sound very suspicious to her, especially since Isabelle was crip
pled and losing her sight. What did they find that made them think it was anything but an accident? “Does that mean you’re going to question Beth about Park’s death again, too?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Jonas took her arm and guided her out of Isabelle’s front yard. A large blob of snow fell out of a pear tree right on his head. He brushed it off as he said, “You’ll have to wait until our investigation is finished.”

  “Jonas, you need a good cleansing! The toxins have backed up in your body at an alarming rate,” she alerted him. “If you don’t go home and drink some milk thistle and goldenseal, you’re going to catch a cold at the very least!”

  He wrinkled his forehead, obviously trying to figure out what she was talking about and finally waved her away. “Go home, Peggy. Please! My toxins will just have to be happy with some coffee and donuts later.”

  She shrugged. “It’s your life.” She looked back at the gloomy house that seemed to glower back at her. Only an old red camellia bush at one corner told a different story about happier times the house had seen. Had Isabelle planted it there when she was young and in love?

  She hadn’t been inside the house for years, even though Beth and Park’s home was only a few blocks away. Since Park Senior died, Isabelle kept to herself. She let her world shrink around her until all that existed was her anger and fear. Is that what finally claimed her?

  It made Peggy shiver to think she could have been the same as Isabelle after John’s death. She could’ve holed up in her house with her plants and her memories until they came and found her dead, too. She shook off the melancholy thought and pretended to examine an ice-glazed holly bush near the front door. The large bush would shrug off the ice as soon as the sun hit it. She knew that, but made a project out of trying to free some of its glossy green leaves from the cold.

  Al and Jonas ignored her as they talked to officers who finished canvassing the neighborhood for anyone who might have seen a strange vehicle or person at the house before Isabelle died. Peggy listened to the reports intently without being noticed. No one saw or heard anything unusual. The neighbors were used to Isabelle’s house being quiet. They knew she lived alone and tried to keep an eye on her.