Lethal Lily (A Peggy Lee Garden Mystery) (8 page)

Peggy used her keyless entry to open her car. Sam held the door open for her as she got inside.

“All I’m saying is that I don’t think Nightflyer is the best place to get information. I’m sure Steve told you the same thing.”

“And I expect
that
kind of thing from Steve. I wasn’t expecting it from
you
.”

He nodded. “Sorry. I wanted to say it before anything else bad happens. I love you, Peggy. You’re like a second mother to me—besides being the only one crazy enough to let me help them run their garden business. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Peggy smiled, tears starting to her eyes. “I love you too, Sam. But I have to do what I can to find out what happened to John that night. He would’ve done the same for me.”

“I know. I’ll meet you back at The Potting Shed later. Just be careful, huh?”

“I will.”

She watched him disappear between the storage units as he headed back to the parking lot by the gate to get the truck. He was such a dear man. She was lucky to have him working with her.

But she still lost the contents of Unit 34. What was she going to do about
that
?

All those uncomfortable conversations with Harry were for nothing if she didn’t find a way to see what was inside the unit. She looked at the wheezing man’s picture on her phone. This was one thing she had that no one else did. With any luck, she could run it through the police database and find out who he was.

It suddenly struck her that she could find out
exactly
who he was and where he lived. All she had to do was get a look at the names and addresses on the sign-in sheet at the office. There weren’t that many people. She could look them up quickly until she found him.

She pulled the car through the passageways between the buildings until she reached the office. The wheezing man was shaking hands with the grinning manager before they parted ways. The manager walked briskly back into the storage unit maze. The wheezing man got into a white, older model Cadillac and drove away.

Peggy scavenged for a pen and paper to write down the license plate number.
South Carolina CHS1212.
She waited a little longer to make sure they were both gone before she parked her car and went into the office.

She was prepared to come up with a story for whoever might be inside. No one was there. The paper with all the names and addresses was still on the desk. Peggy used her cell phone to take a picture of it. If she helped the police with the investigation into Harry’s death, she could coordinate the information on the paper with the license number.

She left the clipboard and sign-in sheet on the desk, and glanced carefully outside before she stepped out the door. She was getting into her car again when the manager spotted her. This time he recognized her and started running toward the office.

“Hey you! What were you doing in there? You’d better not come back here again. I’ll call the police.”

Heart pounding, Peggy left the storage facility as quickly as she could. At least she got some information, even though she didn’t get the files. Her breathing slowed to normal once she didn’t hear any sirens or see any police cars following her.

“Now, Mr. Wheezing Man.” She looked at his picture on her phone when she stopped for a red light. “Let’s see who you really are!”

Firebush

Also known as the hummingbird bush because the little birds can’t get enough of it. The red bush hails from Central, South, and North America. Firebush is known for its herbal properties since the small black berries are edible, and a salve is created from the crushed leaves to aid healing in skin lesions.

Chapter Nine

Once on the main road, Peggy pulled off at a convenience store, and took out her phone again. She gave Dr. Dorothy Beck, the medical examiner, a call.

“Peggy! I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”

“You could’ve called me,” Peggy said. “Did you get my message about Harry’s Fletcher’s death?”

“I did. I suppose you’d like to work with us on that?”

“I would. I’m fairly certain he was poisoned. It might not be botanical. It occurs to me that it could be a crime of opportunity.”

“And that would mean?”

“Maybe some chemical the killer found at the motel room, probably under the bathroom sink.”

“Well, since you put it that way, please join us. If it’s not a botanical poison and you don’t want to stay, I’ll understand.”

Peggy smiled. “Thanks, Dorothy. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

At least that went well.
Peggy started the car and drove toward the morgue and medical examiner’s office. Being part of the ME’s investigation would open some doors for her that she couldn’t open by herself. It would also mean computer access into the police database.

She knew Nightflyer might also be able to help her in finding Harry’s killer, but he was unreliable. It could be days before she heard back from him. She disagreed with Sam that he wasn’t trustworthy—he was outside the law, which made it difficult for him. Peggy believed Nightflyer was sincerely trying to help her.

She got a call on the way across town. It was Paul. Her heart started beating faster when she thought Mai could have actually gone into labor.

“Mom?” Paul began. “I want to ask you about something I heard today.”

Mai wasn’t about to have the baby
. “What’s that?”

“I heard you were picked up last night and accused of breaking and entering. I also heard that you’re looking into Dad’s death. Was he really involved with the FBI? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

There was an undertone of anger and hurt in his voice. Peggy didn’t want to make it worse. Honestly, police stations were as bad as beauty salons for gossip.

“I haven’t found any
real
answers,” she told him carefully. “If I’d really learned something important, I would’ve told you. You know that. Right now, I’m just chasing ghosts.”

“Was the dead man you found this morning involved? Who was he?”

Peggy really didn’t want to answer his questions, but she knew she’d have to say something. Better to do it in person, she reasoned. It would make them both feel better.

“Traffic is bad out here, Paul. Maybe we could meet for lunch and talk about this. I’m going to be at the morgue. All those food trucks are out there around noon. Maybe we could eat and talk.”

“I’ll be there,” he promised.

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

The phone call ended abruptly.  She was only left with her son’s picture on the screen. He was already upset.

Paul reminded her so much of John, even though he had her bright red hair, spring green eyes, and her temper. He had John’s nose and his smile. When he talked, it was like listening to John again. He had similar mannerisms to his father too. She thought of him as a nice pairing of everything good she and John had to offer.

Paul had held on to his personal theory that his father’s death was something more than a domestic violence call gone bad. They’d argued more than once about it. If she’d listened to him sooner, finding the evidence she needed to prove what had really happened might have been easier.

She knew he would welcome this new theory. What boy didn’t want his father to be a hero? She wished she wouldn’t have to give it to him half-baked. She wasn’t sure what he might do. There had been a time when she’d been worried that he might go after the man the police said had killed John.

Peggy realized she had no choice but to tell him what she knew. She hoped he wouldn’t do anything foolish because of it. After John had died, Paul was all about vengeance and finding his father’s killer. That had gone away in time—although it had been enough to change Paul’s ambitions. He’d dropped out of school, where he’d been studying to be an architect, and joined the police academy.

She knew her son’s emotions ran deep—especially on this subject. Hers did too. It was too bad that Harry had danced around the answers until it was too late.

She parked in the morgue parking lot, picked up her bag, and locked the car. The morning was turning hazy with the late summer heat. White clouds, mostly ozone, obscured the blue sky. Just walking from the car to the building brought on heavy breathing in the thick, moist air.

It was obvious to her that the bushes decorating the front of the building had been recently pruned. It was also obvious that the person doing the pruning had no experience. The firebushes, azaleas, and holly had been brutally cut down to the dark, red soil. They’d be lucky if they survived the remainder of the summer heat.

A few years back, there had been an uprising at one of the city council meetings over crape myrtle trees being pruned too far. The city had actually reprimanded the maintenance people who’d done it.

Peggy thought they could all be a little more careful with their trimmers. This wasn’t like hair. A good pruning helped a plant. A bad one could kill it.

The guard at the front door greeted her as she passed through the metal detector. It had been months since she’d been here, but Tom still remembered her name.

“I’m surprised you remember me.” She smiled at him. “You see so many people go in and out each day.”

“How could I forget the lady who gave me and my wife our first good trip to the beach? Having my son, Zac, chew on ginger root kept him from being carsick all the way to Myrtle Beach. We tell everyone about it now.”

“Thanks. I’m glad the ginger worked so well. How is your son doing?”

“Strong as a horse, like his dad.” The guard grinned. “You’re clear, Dr. Lee. Thanks again. Have a good day.”

She walked down the long hall to the medical examiner’s offices and grabbed the white jacket with her nametag on it. She hoped there was some progress on Harry’s autopsy. Surely something would go her way that day.

Dorothy called her to her office right away. Peggy said hello to some other workers in the hall. It seemed that everyone remembered her. It was probably silly on her part to think they wouldn’t. Sometimes she went months without working here. Crimes suspected to be committed with botanical poisons were rare.

Peggy was actually giving a lecture on that subject in two days. Queens University had asked her to come back from time to time as part of a lecture series. She’d retired from full-time teaching at the school, but she liked to go back for short sessions. It gave her plenty of time to run The Potting Shed and keep up with her own projects—and still draw a paycheck from them.

The university was expecting a large crowd of law enforcement officials for the lecture on poisons that had been linked to murders. They had used her forensic credentials, and her time at the university, liberally.

She’d been hoping to use Ann Fletcher’s case for the lecture. A twenty-year-old murder case that had been ruled accidental death, but proven botanical poisoning, would be a hit with the law enforcement crowd. But she didn’t have enough information to use it. It seemed unlikely that she ever would, unless Ann’s death was somehow linked to Harry’s,
and
she could prove it.

“There you are!” Dr. Dorothy Beck got up from behind her crowded desk. She was much taller than Peggy, and gaunt as a scarecrow. “I almost wish there were more cases of poisoning so you could be here all the time. It’s always a pleasure working with you.”

Her tone made Peggy’s sun-pink face turn red. “Thank you. I enjoy working here too. But I don’t think a bumper crop of deaths by poison would make anyone happy.”

Dorothy laughed as she caught her reading glasses that fell off the end of her nose. Her brown eyes gleamed. “Well, we have you here now. Let’s make the best of it.”

Peggy walked alongside Dorothy toward the area where autopsies were performed and bodies kept in cold storage.

“So how is Mai doing? We miss her a lot. She must be due any minute.” Dorothy smiled at her.

“Yes. We had a false alarm early this morning. I think she’s ready to get this over.”

“Aren’t we all when that time comes?”

Peggy laughed. “I think so. The body can only take so much stress.”

“Thank God I only put myself through that once!” Dorothy said.

“I feel the same way!”

“I understand the victim was a friend of yours.” Dorothy put her glasses back on the end of her nose. “We’ve already been working on him. If you’d rather not go in, I’ll understand. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Peggy tried to decide if she should tell her the truth. They’d become good friends since Dorothy had moved here to take on the job of chief medical examiner for the city. But she was still part of the system. Peggy didn’t want her efforts hampered toward finding the information she wanted about John.

“He wasn’t exactly a friend.” Peggy decided on a partial truth. “We were working together. He believed his wife was poisoned twenty years ago. I was helping him with that.”

Dorothy frowned. “Was he thinking about exhuming the body?”

“I think he was. First we were going to take a look at her autopsy files and see what the report actually said.”

“What was listed as cause of death?”

“Harry told me it was listed as accidental death.”

“But he had reason to consider it was murder? And murder by poison—as we were just saying—a rare beast.” Dorothy stared down at her. “You know I love a good puzzle. Give me her name. It seems a little coincidental that he may have been poisoned too. Or are you basing your supposition about what happened to him because of his wife?”

“No. I was the one who found him this morning.” She explained what he’d looked like. “There was no sign of trauma. I hope they were able to find the bottle the scotch came from.”

Dorothy looked at her tablet as they reached the first autopsy room door. “I don’t see anything about that here, but we did send in a sample of the liquid the police obtained from a broken glass. Is that accurate?”

“Yes. It wasn’t much of a sample. We should probably nudge the police to see if they recovered the bottle.”

“We should have something on his stomach contents too. If his death occurred quickly, all the better for us so the poison didn’t have time to disperse.” Dorothy handed Peggy a facemask and gloves.