Lethal Lily (A Peggy Lee Garden Mystery) (17 page)

“It’s about the idea of digging up my sister.” He took a seat in the chair by the door. “I’m sorry I was so upset about the idea earlier. I wasn’t expecting it. I’ve thought about it. If you think it’s important, I’ll sign that paper.”

Peggy felt bad that he’d come to tell her he’d reconsidered. She’d warned him that they would do it without his permission. Now she was embarrassed to tell him that it was already done.

“I’m sorry, Arnie. The medical examiner already got a court order. They’re exhuming Ann’s body this afternoon at three. When they think a murder might have been covered up, they move pretty quickly.”

“I suppose I should’ve known.” He got up from the chair. “Will you be there?”

“Yes.”

“I will be too. Thanks, Peggy.”

She watched him walk outside. At least no one had tried to tell her that John’s death was an accident. She knew from the beginning that he was murdered. Maybe she’d be smart to let it go at that. What difference did it make
why
he was killed? He was dead—that was all that really mattered. She didn’t want to see him exhumed too.

Her cell phone rang. It was Paul. “Hi, Mom. I need to talk to you. Do you have some free time?”

“I’m at The Potting Shed. Could you come here?”

After a short pause, he said, “I can’t. Not the house either. We need to meet somewhere that people wouldn’t expect you to be.”

Peggy’s cinnamon-colored brows knit together. “Where are you? What’s wrong? Who are you worried about seeing?”

“Steve. Maybe Al. Meet me at the Old Settler’s Cemetery. Can you get there by eleven?”

“Yes. But what’s going on, Paul? I don’t like the way you sound.”

“Just meet me there, Mom, please.”

Peggy put down her cell phone as the call ended. Something was wrong. She hadn’t heard Paul sound that way since he got in trouble at college for helping a friend pass an exam.

She looked at her watch. It was ten-fifteen. She could see Selena coming back to the shop with her hands full of goodies. Since she’d had a chance to take a break, maybe she wouldn’t feel so bad about Peggy leaving for a while.

Peggy was telling Selena that she had to leave before eleven, when a man pulling a small wagon with a huge watermelon in it came into the shop.

“Miss Peggy.” Dorian Hubbard pulled at his cap. “I thought you might be interested to see my prize-winning watermelon. I bought the seeds right here. Someone from the Observer is on his way to take pictures.”

Peggy marveled at the watermelon, rubbing her hands on the smooth round sides. “How much does it weigh?”

“Seventy-eight pounds.” Dorian was a long-time customer. “I thought you all could use a little extra publicity.”

“Thank you for thinking of us.” Peggy was always surprised at the kindness and thoughtfulness of her customers.

“I’ve got some mighty big squash this year too.” He sat down in the chair by the door, took off his hat, and swiped his hand across his sweaty brow. “Hot out there. Those squalls in the Atlantic don’t do much good for us up here.”

Selena stood close to Peggy. “You can’t go anywhere until the reporter comes. I’m not getting my picture taken with Godzilla the watermelon.”

“Don’t worry,” Peggy whispered back. “I’ll be late if I have to.”

They sat around talking about gardens and the many bumper crops they’d heard about that summer. Dorian said he’d gone to the county farmer’s market, and a man had offered him a hundred dollars for his watermelon.

“That got me thinking. If he was interested in it, maybe someone else would be too. I called the Charlotte Observer, and the young man I talked to was right excited by it.”

It was ten-thirty, but there was no sign of the reporter. Selena got Dorian a cup of cold water and started working on the bulbs again. Peggy talked with her guest and kept looking at her watch. She was worried, after talking to Paul. She wished he would’ve said a little more about what was wrong.

A young man in a blue T-shirt and jeans carrying a large camera finally came into the shop. He saw Dorian and the watermelon. “Hi. I’m Skip Taylor. I guess this is the big fella.”

Dorian pulled on his suspenders as he got to his feet. “That’s right. Never grew one like it before. Peggy sold me the seeds. This is her garden shop. Make sure you get the name right—The Potting Shed.”

Skip wrote the information in his notepad. He shook hands with Peggy. “I’m glad to meet you. Nice place.”

“Thank you. But really, Dorian is more responsible for the big watermelon because he’s such a good gardener. He takes good care of his garden.”

“So, we think the garden is more important than the seed?” Skip asked.

“Not as far as I’m concerned,” Dorian denied. “Look around you, young man, do you see any other garden shops in this area?”

Sam came in as Skip was trying to think of any other garden shops at all. Once Sam got the idea that The Potting Shed was getting free publicity—he took over the event—making sure the reporter knew they did landscaping too. He had Skip take pictures of all three of them with the big watermelon—setting it up so that the photo would pick up the contents of the shop behind them.

“He’s much better at this than I ever was,” Peggy confided to Dorian as Sam had Skip taking pictures all over the shop while he gave him information.

“But you’re a damn sight better looking.” Dorian winked at her. “You know, a few years back, I thought there might be something between you and me. We both love plants, and we lost our spouses. Then that good-looking fella came along and snatched you up. I should’ve done it quicker.”

Peggy hugged him. He’d been one of her first customers and had always been there to support her. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I’m flattered. We could’ve grown some big vegetables together.”

Dorian’s laugh was wheezy, reminding her of Arnie. She glanced at her watch. It was five minutes until eleven. Sam had this. She was going to meet Paul.

She said goodbye to Dorian and thanked him again for bringing the newspaper to her door. Selena waved to her as she was leaving.

Sofia was standing with her nose pushed against the plate glass at the front of the shop. “Is that a newspaper reporter? Emil saw him go in with a camera.”

“Yes. Maybe you should see if he’d be interested in taking pictures of your shop too.”

“You’re right! I better go tell Emil.”

Peggy watched her run back across the courtyard. Skip Taylor might be in for a full day of taking pictures and reporting on the shops in Brevard Court. She got in her car and raced through downtown Charlotte, hoping none of the blue and white squad cars would notice.

She was only a few minutes from the old Settler’s Cemetery on Fifth Street. It was maintained by the city as a park where workers from downtown could wander and eat lunch each day. The big oak trees overhung the neat paths creating quiet spaces to get away from the bustle of the city.

The cemetery was first used in 1776. Many of the area’s Revolutionary War heroes were buried here. The old tombstones told their tales of Charlotte’s early settlers who’d brought so much to the fledgling community.

Peggy parked her car on the street and went to search for Paul. She was a few minutes late. She hoped he’d waited for her. When she finally saw him, she waved and walked quickly to meet him.

“Mom.” His face was grim. “I’ve done something you’re not going to be happy about. I’m not happy about it either. It just happened.”

“What? What just happened?”

Their green gazes locked as he confessed. “I took everything out of Harry Fletcher’s storage shed.”

Gladiolus

Cultivated since the 1800s, Victorian gardeners, including Monet and Gertrude Jekyll, adored these flowers with their tall, spiky heads, and glorious colors. They bloom best in full sun and will multiply abundantly.

Chapter Seventeen

“What were you thinking, Paul? Why did you steal everything in there?” Peggy couldn’t believe her son had done something like this.

“I don’t know. You told me about the files you thought might have something to do with Dad. I was thinking about it. Then I came up with a plan.”

Paul wasn’t in uniform. He wore a plain UNCC T-shirt and jeans. He didn’t look like he’d slept well. His eyes were troubled.

“You’ll have to put it all back,” she decided. “The surveillance cameras weren’t working. They don’t have a picture of you.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t going to let them make a video with me as the star.”

“Okay. I guess you can fix the cameras too, when you take Arnie’s stuff back to the storage unit.”

“Don’t you even want to know what was in it?” he asked impatiently.

“Of course I want to know. I assume you went through Harry’s files.”

“There were two boxes of files. Most of them were dedicated to information he’d collected about his wife. There were only two folders that had information about Dad.”

Peggy sat on one of the benches. “What did you find?”

Paul sat beside her. “Not much. Harry found out that Dad was helping Steve and another FBI agent look into a series of murders in Charlotte. It looked like they believed a state senator’s death was related. It didn’t make much sense.”

“What senator? Was he murdered?”

“No, but he
did
die in a car wreck at around the same time. His name was Senator Richard Malcolm. I looked it up. There was no mention of Dad or any kind of conspiracy.”

Peggy took a deep breath, trying to dispel the pain that ached in her chest. “I don’t see what the link would be between them.”

 “Me either—not yet anyway. But Mom, this private detective knew all about this while we were kept in the dark all this time. That’s not right. I think we should talk to Steve and Al about it. There might be more that they’re not telling us.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she disagreed. “I’m sure they’ve told us all they could.”

Paul wasn’t convinced. “I want to ask them.”

“All right.” Peggy watched three pretty young girls in flowered, summer dresses walk by them. “Do you need help taking the stuff back to the storage shed?”

“No. I’ve got this. Do you want me to make copies of the information about Harry’s wife?”

“You don’t have to. I’m sure Arnie will share it with me—if he can find it.”

“I’m sorry about this. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

She smiled and patted his hand. “I thought you were a little too calm when we talked about it. I should’ve known something was up.”

“Yeah. Dad’s death is one thing I can’t be calm about. All these years—I believed something was up with him dying that way. Al kept telling me it was okay. I never believed him. I was right. I guess he lied to me.”

“I don’t think Al knew anything about this other stuff with the FBI. He told me he didn’t even know John was working with them. I believe him.”

“I don’t know what I believe now.” His eyes focused on hers. “What about Steve? I feel kind of weird knowing he was working with Dad when he was killed, and then suddenly he marries you. Don’t you think that’s kind of strange?”

Steve had told Peggy after they were married that he’d been keeping an eye on her after John was killed. The FBI was worried that she might be a target too. He’d told her that he’d fallen in love with her—despite the almost ten-year age gap between them.

She believed him, and she trusted him. She knew it was hard to convey trust between two people to a third party like Paul. “The whole thing sounds odd, but I think it makes sense. I know Steve. And it wasn’t as if the day after your father died he came knocking at my door looking for a date. Let’s give him some credit.”

Paul ran his hand through his spikey red hair. “I know you’re right. Steve is a good guy. I know he wasn’t involved in Dad’s death, except as his contact with the Bureau. Al told me he’s worked with the FBI before too. It happens in local cases.”

He got to his feet. “I made copies of all the papers Harry had about Dad. I didn’t want to take a chance on losing them, even though they don’t really make any difference as far as I can tell. I just want them, you know?”

She got up and hugged him. “I know. I’m sure I’ll get the originals after you put everything else back in the storage unit.”

“Yeah. I’ll take care of that tonight. I don’t know how you’ll play this with Arnie. You’ll have to convince him to look at it again without giving anything away.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll think of something. In the meantime, please give up your cat burglar tendencies.”

“I’ve sworn off. Mai would kill me if she found out.”

They were about to go their separate ways when Peggy thought to ask about what else was in the storage shed.

“More files. I didn’t read all of them. Some personal things like clothes and books. They looked like they belonged to Harry’s wife. You know, there were some books on plants and poisons that you’d probably like. She must’ve been a gardener too.”

“Really?” Peggy thought about Ann’s unusual death. “If I have a chance, I’ll look at them. Thanks, Paul. Be careful.”

Peggy went back to her car, thinking about the idea that Ann could have been responsible for her own death. People read about herbs and plants that could be used for medicine without realizing that the tinctures and formulas had to be followed as closely for home remedies as with drugs.

Maybe it was possible Ann had accidentally killed herself. The first thing every poison expert learned is that what can kill can usually heal, and vice versa. Had Ann been treating herself for some health problem and overdone it?

Whatever answer that might bring wouldn’t work with what had happened to Harry. Ann had been dead for a long time. In Peggy’s experience, people didn’t come back from the dead to kill others.

On the other hand, Arnie might share his sister’s curiosity about poisons and plants. Even though his record was clear, it was always possible that he could have finally decided to take revenge for his sister.

If Paul could do something so irresponsible for information about John’s death, it was certainly possible that Arnie could have taken it one step further.