A Corpse for Yew (18 page)

She spent the next few minutes explaining about the crystals, similar to those that hold liquid in baby diapers, and how they could be used to keep moisture around plants for longer periods. “The crystals disperse water as time goes by,” she explained. “They’re probably good for about a month without water before they need to be soaked again.”

“Do you carry those at the store?” Suzi asked.

“Some,” Peggy answered. “There wasn’t ever a big demand for them.”
But I can certainly carry more if that will get you into the Potting Shed
.

The garden club members lingered longer than the usual thirty minutes, and almost all of them went back to the Potting Shed with her when it was over. There were just enough hydrogel crystals for each of them to have one pack. Selena quickly took orders for at least ten more.

“Peggy, you need to give workshops on coping with the drought,” Mary told her after paying for her purchase. “I know a ton of people who’re looking for answers to this thing. No one wants to give up their garden. It would be a big help.”

When all of the garden club had finally left, Selena closed the cash register and let out a
whoop
. “That’s almost as much as we did all last week! What did you do?”

Peggy smiled. “Talked about the right thing, I guess. Selena, we should think about helping people survive the drought. Mary may be on to something. Let’s take out an ad in the
Observer
. Maybe you can get your friend from the TV station to cover a drought workshop for gardeners.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Maybe this is our turning-around place. It sounds like Sam has the landscaping under control. Maybe we can make some money in the shop, too.”

Peggy’s mind was flying with a hundred ideas, but she glanced into the pond and back at her assistant. “Where’s the little lizard? You didn’t kill him, did you?”

Selena shook her head. “Me? Are you kidding? I had Sam take him with him when he left. I’m sure he’ll find a good home for him or Keeley will kill him. You know how she is with anything alive.”

Peggy was about to agree with her when six solemn-faced women, all of them wearing black, filed into the shop. “We need to talk,” Geneva told her.

“YOUR MOTHER TOLD US WHAT happened,” Dorothy said. “How could you leave us in the dark that way?”

Peggy glared at her mother, who shrugged and looked the other way. “I don’t know what she told you, but whatever it was, she should’ve known better.”

“Lilla told us the medical examiner is going to rule Lois’s death an accident,” Grace charged. “How
could
you? We
trusted
you.”

A customer with a baby in a backpack came into the shop and stared long and hard at the group of women. Peggy took this as a sign and moved them out of the shop. She certainly didn’t need to scare off anyone who might spend money. “Let’s go out and sit down.”

They sat around the same table the garden club had, but for Peggy, the talk about French lavender was much more enjoyable. She didn’t see where she had much choice but to explain the circumstances of Lois’s death to them. She never should have trusted her mother to keep her mouth closed. Funny, but she had never thought of her that way before. She knew Lilla was desperate to make friends in her new home. It was as good an explanation as any for her breach of trust.

“So she was poisoned”—Annabelle deciphered Peggy’s brief explanation—“by yew berries?”

“She had them in her mouth.” Peggy clarified. “Whether or not the poison actually killed her, or if it caused her to have another heart attack, could be up for debate. But there was no sign she was forced to eat them. The ME had to assume she didn’t know what they were, and ate them on her own.”

“Of course she knew what they were!” Annabelle protested. “She grew up here. I’m sure she has them in her yard. Most of us do.”

The other ladies nodded, but Geneva spoke out. “But who knew they were poisonous? I thought for sure my cousin in Spartanburg used to eat them all the time.”

“You can eat the red berry part,” Peggy explained. “But the green seed in the middle is deadly poisonous. Lois had more than one seed in her mouth.”

“That’s crazy!” Grace declared. “That can’t be all there is to it. I don’t believe it.”

“It may be difficult to take in, but it appears to be what happened.” Peggy felt sorry for the ladies and wished there was a better answer, although murder didn’t seem to be a better answer to her.

“What about her quarrel with Jonathon?” Grace demanded. “Maybe he tricked her into eating the berries.”

“The chances are he was with at least one of you when she died. We know he picked us up to go out to the lake. He started with you, right, Geneva?” Peggy tried to make them think logically about what had happened.

“Yeah. I guess that was about six. Maybe sooner.” The sulky tone of her voice said more than her words. Geneva didn’t want to think her friend simply made a mistake.

“The ME and the police detectives checked everything. There isn’t any reason to believe Lois was killed. She made a mistake thousands of people make every year, but it cost her her life.” Peggy smiled at them. “Believe me, it’s better that she died this way than thinking someone killed her.”

“She was still alone out there.” Annabelle’s voice wavered.

“Because her stupid jackass of a nephew didn’t want to be bothered taking her out there at a decent time,” Dorothy said. “It doesn’t hurt that he’s the one who’ll inherit her house.”

“Please don’t think of it that way,” Peggy encouraged. “Chief Mullis knows he made a mistake. I don’t think it was something he did on purpose.”

“Easy for him to say,” Mrs. Waynewright accused, her thin lips in a taut line. “She’s gone now and he’s still here. Who knows it wasn’t something subconscious?”

“I guess, from what Peggy is saying, we’ll never know for sure,” Geneva said. “We all got messages saying Lois’s funeral will be tomorrow. I guess all we can do now is pay our respects.”

“I think we should give her that designation from the DAR anyway,” Grace said. “She had the oldest ancestor of any of us, as far as we know. He was a major in the Revolutionary War at the age of sixty-six. I think we should see if we can have the sash and plaque buried with her. What good will it do us now?”

Mrs. Waynewright cleared her throat. “There was always a question about whether my ancestor was older than hers.”

“Even so”—Geneva ignored her—“I think Grace is right. We should bury them with Lois.”

The group slowly got to their feet and took turns thanking Peggy for her help. “I didn’t really do anything,” she protested. “I’m sorry about Lois. I know she’ll be missed.”

Lilla hung around until the rest of the group had wandered away through the courtyard. “I’m sorry, Margaret. I didn’t mean to give things away. It just sort of came out as we were talking this morning.”

“That’s okay, Mom. They would’ve found out anyway. It was my fault for saying something I had no business saying.”

Her mother smiled. “This group seemed very simple, but it’s really very complex. You wouldn’t believe the rivalry between all the history groups around here to decide whose ancestors are oldest or better in some way. Back home, it was simple. If you had the right family name, your ancestors were best.”

Peggy laughed. “Don’t worry, Mom. You’ll fit in here, too. That Cranshaw name will open some doors. How many people have you met whose ancestor was one of the first to settle in this country in the 1600s? I think you might be in line for another sash and plaque.”

“You’re right, of course.” Lilla hugged her. “We’re going out tomorrow morning to locate the grave of a Revolutionary War captain, which was recently brought to our attention. Would you like to come?”

“I don’t think so. Thanks for offering. Give my love to Dad.”

Peggy was shaking her head as she walked back toward the Potting Shed and her mother continued out of the courtyard to her car. Their relationship had never been easy, but it had been more than thirty years since they’d lived in the same town. Somehow she had to find a way to survive her parents being in Charlotte. Steve was right. She was going to have to work around her Southern principles to get their attention and respect for her life.

Her cell phone rang. It was Mai. “I thought you might like to take a look at the ring we found now that it’s all cleaned up. We’re handing it over to the history museum, since we put the Mullis case to bed.”

“I’d like to see it,” Peggy answered. “Have you released Lois’s body yet?”

“This morning. Chief Mullis was here to make sure it all went smoothly.”

“I’ll be over in a few minutes.” Peggy closed her cell phone and went in the Potting Shed to talk to Selena. “I’m going to be gone awhile, but I’ll be back to close up.”

“Famous last words.” Selena smirked without looking up from her book. “How did it go with the black crows?”

“They’re in mourning for their friend. In the South it’s always been traditional to go into deep mourning for at least the first month. That used to mean you couldn’t leave your house and every window had to be covered in black. Your bedsheets were black, too, and all the mirrors had to be covered.”

Selena looked up at her. “You’re kidding, right? How did they survive?”

“The same way people survived everything else. You do what you have to do. See you later.” Peggy left with a smile after catching Selena’s attention with her historical point of view. Of course, mourning hadn’t been that way for a really long time. She doubted most young people could survive the routine of death as it had been more than a hundred years ago.

She unlocked her bike and rode down an alley to get into Tryon Street traffic since there was construction on College Street. Unfortunately, there was construction on Tryon Street as well. She wondered if road crews ever considered working on roads that weren’t dependent on each other. Surely there were other parts of the city that needed work to be done.

Her cell phone rang again, but it was all she could do to negotiate between the cars, the workers, and the large holes they seemed intent on creating. She didn’t stop until she cut down Trade Street, going toward Church Street. She got some nasty looks from drivers who wished they could do the same. One thing a bicycle was good for in Charlotte was getting out of traffic jams.

She pulled into the ME’s parking lot and checked her phone. Steve had left a message saying he was going to be done early with the horses and wanted to take her someplace nice for supper. He planned to pick her up at six if she was going to be home by then.

She tried to call him back, but he must’ve been in a dead zone with no cell reception. It wasn’t unusual outside the city. Some small towns still had very little reception. She left him a return message to let him know she expected to be dressed and ready by six.

Peggy locked her bike and thought about Steve. They had come so far, so fast, in the last year. She’d gone from believing she’d always be alone after John’s death to sneaking Steve in and out of her house after he’d spent the night. Now she was asking herself if they’d moved too fast.

She had no doubt Steve was a good man. She’d known that right away. But the devil was in the details, it always was. There was a lot she didn’t know about him. Because he spent so much time living in her life with her friends and family, he knew everything about her. It made her feel suddenly . . . uneasy.

Maybe it was stupid, but she was in an awkward position with him. Snooping through his personal possessions was like a wake-up call. She needed to slow the momentum of their relationship in order to reevaluate it. It felt like it was now or never to ask important questions she’d somehow forgotten to ask in the hasty jumble that had become her life.

With her acceptable plan in place, Peggy went inside and greeted the security guard at the front desk. She signed in, and he waved her on to the lab.

She saw Mai talking with Harold and waited for them to go their separate ways before she approached the girl. “I hope everything is back on an even keel with you and Harold now.”

“As even as it ever gets with us.” Mai pushed the strands of her silky, fine black hair from her face. “At least I know what it’s like to be the head honcho now. And I’m not ready for it. I hope Dr. Ramsey stays on a while longer.”

“You did fine! I’m sure Harold couldn’t have done any better himself.”