6 A Thyme to Die
A Thyme to Die
By
Joyce and Jim Lavene
A Peggy Lee Garden Mystery
Copyright 2013
by
Joyce and Jim Lavene
All rights reserved
Cover art by Emmie Anne Studios
http://www.emmieannestudios.com
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Sweet Potato
The sweet potato belongs to the family Convolvulaceae. Its tuberous roots are a vegetable. The young leaves are also eaten. The sweet potato is barely related to the white potato, Solanum tuberosum. They are known by other names around the world: camote, kamote, goguma, man thet, ubi jalar, ubi keledek, shakarkand, satsuma imo, batata or el boniato. The U.S. Dept. of Agriculture requires sweet potatoes to be labeled as such, instead of as ‘yams’, which many people call them. Yams are a different species.
Peggy Lee woke up and smacked her hand hard against the ‘off’ button on her alarm clock. It was early, barely five a.m. Her bedroom was still dark. She groaned as she rolled over, remembering as she did, why she was up.
She’d had a late night getting ready for the International Flower Show. She’d worked hard to have the show brought to Charlotte, being part of the process from the beginning. It was exciting, but it was also exhausting.
A large, wet tongue licked her face from chin to forehead. Before she could wake up enough to move away, a cold, wet nose with whiskers snuffled her cheek.
“Shakespeare! What are you doing on the bed?”
The one-hundred-forty-pound Great Dane thumped his tail hard. He was ready for a walk outside and breakfast.
“Where’s Steve?” Peggy opened both her eyes. The only thing she could see on the pillow next to her was a large head with a black muzzle, a goofy grin, and floppy, unclipped ears. “I guess that means he’s not here, right? If you’re on the bed, there’s not enough room for anyone else.”
She threw back the sheet and comforter, awake now. It was just as well. If she was going to have time to shower, dress and check on her plants before she left for the flower show, she was going to have to get up.
Taking Shakespeare outside seemed to be the most important task at hand. He was racing around the bedroom like a dog tornado, as he always did when he needed to go out. That might be fine with a terrier, but with a Great Dane, it was a prelude to broken furniture and glass.
Peggy put on her slippers and robe and went downstairs, making sure Shakespeare went first so he didn’t knock her down the wide, spiral stairs.
Before she’d reached the ground floor, she heard Steve’s voice calling the dog. He was already outside with him before she could reach the kitchen door.
“I guess this is going to be that kind of day.” She yawned and put some water in the kettle to boil. “Breakfast first, it seems.”
Peggy usually had peach tea for breakfast. In this case, she opted for Earl Grey. There was no doubt in her mind that she needed the pick-me-up.
She glanced over at the old wood kitchen table and saw Steve’s laptop on it. That was probably why he was up earlier than her. She sneaked a peek—there were no secret FBI files she could look at.
Rats!
She was curious about what he did.
Since Steve had accepted the FBI’s director’s job for the Charlotte, North Carolina area, he’d been keeping odd hours getting the office set up.
He’d told her he was a veterinarian when she’d first met him, which was true. It wasn’t until recently that she’d found out that he was also an FBI agent who’d been sent to keep an eye on her after her first husband, John, a homicide detective with the Charlotte PD, was killed.
John and Steve had been working together on a case that might have caused John’s death. Steve had been worried that someone might also try to kill her.
Peggy had thought her meeting with Steve was an accident. Now she knew he’d gone out of his way to be her friend. Later, he said, he’d fallen in love with her. By that time, she had loved him too.
He’d explained all of it, including the need for secrecy. She understood that he couldn’t tell her the truth at the time. She trusted him.
She probably wouldn’t have married another man in law enforcement after John’s death, but Steve was exceptional. She had no regrets. It was hard, though, worrying about him, and her son, Paul, who’d decided to follow in her husband’s footsteps and become a police officer.
It had also made her ask uncomfortable questions about John’s death. Steve had told her that the investigation was still ‘ongoing’. Peggy was determined to find out exactly what that meant.
Steve seemed the same since she’d found out about his real career. He was gone more, but had told her that would change when the transition was over. He’d be in Charlotte more often. The director’s job was mostly a desk position, with agents reporting to him.
She toasted and buttered an English muffin. John had often spoken to her about his cases. Steve was secretive and didn’t seem to like talking about what he did. She didn’t like being shut out of that part of his life.
“Good morning.” Steve removed Shakespeare’s leash before the big dog could barrel through the rest of the house. He put down a bowl of food and stood back as Shakespeare raced toward it.
She smiled back at him. “It looks like you’ve been busy.”
He kissed her, closed the laptop, and sat down. “Just going over some information.”
“Always important to double check your facts.”
It seemed as though their conversations were like this recently. Back and forth with no discernible information exchanged. They’d managed to have a long talk when Peggy had first found out that he wasn’t just a veterinarian. Everything had seemed like it was out on the table. She wished he’d share as much now.
“So you have that flower show today, right?” he asked.
He kept trying.
Bless his heart
. Peggy stirred a little milk into her tea.
“That’s right. And you?”
“Still going through the transition. I’m not sure how long it’ll take. Maybe we can go away for a while when it’s over.”
“That would be nice.” She chewed and swallowed a bite of her muffin. “So what exactly will you do when you’ve transitioned? I know agents answer to you. Will you be in the field at all?”
“I could be supervising in the field on some cases.” He stood and poured another cup of coffee. “It shouldn’t be dangerous, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Just curious. I’ve never really known an FBI agent before. At least not that I
knew
of.”
He put down his coffee cup and took her in his arms. “I think we know each other pretty well. I’m the same man you married.”
“I guess I mean what they do, as part of their job.”
Steve kissed her and smiled. “You’re asking me for a detailed list of duties, right?”
“Something like that.”
“We’ll work on that,” he promised. “I have to go.”
“I like that blue suit on you with the lighter blue shirt.” She smiled at him and picked up her tea. “I’m going upstairs to get dressed. I’ll see you later.”
He held her in his arms for another minute. “I love you, Peggy.”
“I love you too, Steve. Think about that list.”
He laughed. “I will.”
Peggy didn’t go upstairs to get dressed right away. Her projects in the basement needed her attention.
The basement sprawled the entire length and width of the turn-of-the-century house on Queen’s Road in Charlotte. It was filled with her botanical experiments and plants she loved. She bred and modified plants for pleasure as well as for food and medicinal purposes.
Peggy had worked recently on projects to increase the rice yield without using any genetic modifications and had created a strain of wheat that grew faster and in poorer soil. Her work as a botanist had received many awards down through the years.
The basement wasn’t quite big enough for everything she wanted to do. In the heart of the rapidly growing city, it opened into an acre garden that she cultivated by the season.
She wasn’t much of a lawn person. Countless corporations had asked her to help them work on creating ornamental grass that only grew to an eighth of an inch tall, and even some that glowed in the dark. That type of work didn’t interest her, though the money was good.
Peggy had created a large grassy area that was home to a new variety of tall grass that was edible. It contained all the essential vitamins a human needed and tasted a little like lemon. The only problem was that it couldn’t withstand drought or cold temperatures. She was still working on that.
“Hello. Good morning.” Dr. Walter Bellows, her next door neighbor, opened the sliding glass door that separated the garden from the basement. He was a short man with an ancient-looking tweed cap and matching jacket that he wore year round. Little tufts of his gray hair stuck out all over his head from under his cap. “What are we working on today?”
Bellows had been an annoying neighbor at first, but they’d slowly discovered that they had similar interests in plants. He was also a botanist. They’d become good friends.
“Not much. I’m on my way to the flower show. I wanted to check in on the sweet potatoes before I leave.” She walked over to the huge basket where a new variety of sweet potatoes were growing. “I think these are going to be ready next week. The university will be surprised. They weren’t expecting them until next month.”
Walter stuck his fingers into the warm rich soil. “They’re huge! I wouldn’t have believed it except that I was here when you planted them. Imagine—sweet potatoes in two weeks!”
“We have to find ways to grow food faster if we want to keep on feeding everyone.”
He nodded, his pale blue eyes, showing his fascination with the project. “If you need me to water them, or anything else, I’ll be glad to.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the flower show?”
“No, thank you! I’m not interested in daisies and roses. What you’re doing here is amazing work, Peggy. You go on. Get dressed. I’ll rummage around here for a while.”
Peggy trusted Walter now. He knew what he was doing. She would rather have stayed in the basement all day with her projects, but she had to go to the convention center and make sure everything was set up.
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
She went back upstairs, past all the nooks and crannies she loved so much in the old house. Upkeep was expensive for the rambling dwelling filled with dozens of rooms. She paid her part to live there but the house would never belong to her. Someday her husband’s nephew would take possession. Her son would never live here with his family.
