5 Buried By Buttercups (4 page)

Peggy wanted to hurry this along. The noise from the alarm was irritating. She would certainly hear about it from Mr. Bellows. She opened the kitchen door and turned the alarm off, heaving a sigh of relief when it was quiet. 

It was good to know nothing was wrong. These false alarms happened occasionally. The city fined people if it happened too often. It was a waste of resources to bring officers out to check on it. It was one of the reasons she frequently didn’t set the alarm.

Paul and Steve both called her since their names were on the contact list with the security company for emergencies. She had to take several minutes to explain to both of them, in front of Al and the officers, that nothing was wrong.

Al dismissed the two officers. “I’ll walk through the house with you just to make sure everything is okay.”

Peggy protested. She felt foolish enough about the event as it was. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure it’s all fine.”

Shakespeare was barking so hard, Peggy was afraid he was going to have a heart attack. His fangs were showing and the hackles on his neck and back were up. He was foaming at the mouth a little too. She wiped his mouth and hugged him, reassuring him. He was a little too high-strung to be such a big dog.

“There’s nothing you can say that’s going to prevent me from walking through the house,” Al told her once Shakespeare was quiet. “It’s probably nothing, but I want to make sure. So if you have any secret plant stuff going on in here, now’s the time to tell me.”

“What kind of secret plant stuff could I be doing?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some new, weird kind of marijuana or something. John used to tell me crazy stories about your experiments in the basement.”

She laughed. “There’s nothing you can’t see. And if you insist on searching the house, that’s fine. I’m grateful for your diligence.”

“You’re sure, huh?” He grinned. “Let’s get going. I don’t have all day.”

Al and Peggy walked through the main part of the two-story house, through the dining room, parlor and living room. There was nothing unusual or out of place.

They walked up the wide, curved staircase to the bedrooms. It allowed a perfect view of the thirty-foot blue spruce growing up to the skylight.

“John never wanted this house, you know,” Al said as they walked. “He said it was too old and drafty. He even called it creepy once. He didn’t grow up here. It was his birthright. He loved it once he’d moved in with you. He was sorry Paul wouldn’t be able to raise his family here.”

Peggy smoothed her hand along the wood banister. “It might be old and drafty and in constant need of attention, but I can’t imagine living anywhere else. It’s a wonderful house. I’ve spent most of my life here. I’m glad John’s nephew doesn’t want to settle down yet. I hate the idea of leaving.”

“How does Steve feel about living here?”

“He sold his house two doors down after we were married.” She shrugged as they walked through three bedrooms that weren’t being used, their antique furniture shrouded with white sheets. “I suppose he’s all right with it.”

Al smiled. “I think the man is just plain crazy about you and he wouldn’t care if you lived in a shack. That’s what I think.”

“I hope that’s it,” she agreed. “We can always look for a new place when the time comes. It doesn’t make John’s family very happy that I’m still here even though John is gone. The house would be empty without me, waiting for John’s nephew. That’s never a good thing.”

They went down to the basement and Peggy let Shakespeare outside for a few minutes. Al snooped through her experiments. Nothing seemed unusual or out of place there either.

“I don’t know what half of this stuff is,” he said.

“Mary does,” she replied. “She was here a few months ago getting some cuttings from a new white azalea I’m growing.”

He knew that was true. “Oh yeah. If there are plants involved, my wife is all over it.”

His cell phone rang and he stepped away to take the call. Peggy let Shakespeare back in. The dog wasn’t happy about being called away from the nice weather and the distractions he’d found in the backyard.

Al said he had to go. “We may have had a break in the case. It seems one of our victims wasn’t as perfect as we thought. He was having an affair—with a woman who works at a florist. That could be our poison connection.”

Peggy wished him well. She didn’t think a woman who worked at a florist was likely to have the expertise needed to create these poisons, but she didn’t say so. She knew from living with John that they had to investigate all possible angles of the crime. It was their duty and it was expected of them. The district attorney had to be able to say that all avenues had been explored when the case went to trial.

She stood in the driveway and waved to him as he pulled out into Queen’s Road traffic.

Peggy went back inside for a moment to reassure Shakespeare again. A quick glance at her watch sent her back out on her bicycle, this time for The Potting Shed. It had already been more than two hours since she’d told Sam she would be there.

Mr. Bellows was waiting there for her, almost inside a large privet bush. “Mrs. Lee.”

“I’m sorry. I know the alarm went off. I’ll have the security company come and check it out.”

“You’re a terrible neighbor.” He said it in a flat monotone, reminding her of Alfred Hitchcock.

“I try my best to be a good neighbor, Mr. Bellows. All of our lives can’t be as well-planned as yours.”

“I would be happy to buy your house to facilitate your moving away from here.”

Her green eyes widened. “I don’t own this house. You’d have to contact my former husband’s family. I don’t think they’d be interested. It’s been passed down from generation to generation for more than a hundred years.”

“Then I shall have to consider other options.”

She looked at her watch again. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

Traffic had increased horrifically from Queen’s Road to Brevard Court where the garden shop was located. She’d been cut off twice in traffic and one driver had tossed a partial cup of ice at her. Luckily she’d been able to maneuver around it.

Peggy went to the back of the shop where the loading dock was. Sam was still there unloading twenty-five pound bags of mulch. It was the time of year for gardeners to go out and mulch their plants, bushes and trees to protect them from the winter. They always tried to stay well-stocked.

“It’s about time,” Sam said when he saw her. “Selena has been driving me crazy. She says she needs time to study for a test. The shop has been super busy, of course. I finally started ignoring her. I can’t keep running back and forth and get this truck and trailer back to the rental company today. Do you know how much they charge if you keep the equipment an extra day?”

Peggy left her bike at the base of the stairs next to the loading dock. “Good morning. I’m so sorry about this. There was a murder across the street from the house early this morning. They think the man was killed by glycosides from buttercups.”

Sam Ollson put a bag of mulch on each of his broad shoulders with his gloved hands. The morning sun gleamed on his naturally blond hair. His face was tanned from hours working in the sun on whatever landscape projects he could find. Blue eyes were annoyed at the moment, but smile lines at the side of them gave away his usually sunny disposition.  

“So it’s Peggy Lee human poison detector to the rescue again, huh?”

“There’s a paycheck. I’m putting it into the garden shop account since it involves gardening, to an extent.”

He raised his almost invisible blond brows. “To a broad extent.”

“I could have them make out the checks to The Potting Shed, if that would help.”

Sam put the two bags of mulch into the storage area outside the shop. “I guess you should ask the accountant. I’m glad you’re here anyway. If I had to be here alone with Selena much longer, there may have been another murder that wasn’t as clever.”

She grinned. “Well, at least you’re wearing gloves. No fingerprints.”

He smiled at that. Sam never stayed angry for long. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Do you want to talk about Hunter’s car problem?”

“No.”

“All right then.”

Brevard Court, where The Potting Shed was located, was built at the doorway to Latta Arcade—originally a cotton auction house.

Like a turn of the century mini-mall, the shops continued along inside the arcade of the restored 1915 office building. The antique light fixtures and parallel rows of shop fronts created the feeling of walking into the past. The overhead skylight, which was part of the original architecture, kept shoppers dry. Its original purpose was to provide natural light for cotton buyers to inspect their goods.

Brevard Court was behind the arcade. Small shops and restaurants lined the cobblestone courtyard. It was a pleasant place to shop or sit and eat lunch. The shops depended on the forty-thousand workers who came to the uptown offices five days a week. It was mostly empty on the weekends.

The economy had been rough on some of the shops and restaurants that had been there when Peggy had first opened The Potting Shed. Several had closed. No new shops had opened in the area in the last two years.

The Kozy Kettle Coffee and Tea Emporium was still there with Emil and Sofia Balducci making coffee and Peggy’s favorite, peach tea, along with breakfast and lunch foods. Anthony’s Caribbean Café still made delicious, spicy lunches. The Carolina Expert Tailor Shop had survived too.

China King take-out was also still open. Peggy waved to Mr. Woo every morning when she opened the door that led to the courtyard.

The French restaurant that had been kitty-corner from The Potting Shed had closed. Peggy missed them because they’d been open for dinner. She and Steve had eaten there many times after a long day at the garden shop. A little travel agency beside it hadn’t fared well either.

Every time a shop had closed, everyone there felt the blow. They were all hanging on, hoping for better times. Emil Balducci always insisted those better times were just around the corner. She’d never known a happier man in her life.

Peggy went inside where two customers were keeping Selena busy with their quest for garden bulbs. She smiled as she watched her long-time assistant. Selena wasn’t always patient and pleasant, but she made up for it in her knowledge of plant lore and her willingness to work when she was needed.

A sigh of happiness, of being home, escaped from Peggy as it always did when she walked into The Potting Shed. The rent was a little steep, but she loved the look and feel of the place. The Potting Shed had real heart-of-pine floors that squeaked when she walked across them.

The shop wasn’t huge, but it had a small warehouse space in the back to keep shovels, potting soil, and other essential items. She normally did a brisk business, even in the winter. Charlotteans were avid gardeners all year long.

Now she was scraping by. She hadn’t hired another assistant after Keeley Prinz had left when she’d transferred schools. It had meant a little extra work for all of them. Peggy wasn’t comfortable yet doing more than maintaining what she had.

Another customer came in from the courtyard, the little bell ringing as the door opened. Peggy put on her Potting Shed apron and went to help her.

“I’m looking for something to get rid of poison ivy,” the well-dressed woman told her. “I don’t know how it got into my yard, but I want it gone. I don’t want to worry every time I go outside that I’ll get a rash. I’m highly allergic.”

Peggy smiled. “I know exactly what you mean. There’s nothing like a poison rash to keep you inside. As for how it got there, birds actually spread it in their droppings.”

“Really?” The woman’s eyes grew round with amazement. “I blamed my landscaper. I guess I owe him an apology. So what can I do to get rid of it?”

“You can choose to poison it, which I wouldn’t recommend as it poisons the soil too. The best way is to protect yourself—long sleeves, good gloves, long pants—and pull it out. It has to be pulled out by the roots. There’s no other way.”

The woman made an unpleasant face. “I don’t want to poison the soil, but I don’t know if I have time to pull it out. I wish I hadn’t fired my landscaper. Maybe he could’ve taken it out for me. You don’t know a good landscaper you could recommend, do you?”

“As a matter of fact, she does.” Sam took off his gloves and offered the woman his large hand. “I’m Sam Ollson. I run the landscaping part of this business. I’ll be glad to get the poison ivy out of your yard.”

The woman looked impressed—Sam always impressed people. It was easy when you looked like the Norse God, Thor. “No poison, right?” Her gaze never left his handsome face.

“No, ma’am. If I used poison, Peggy would poison me. We can talk over here by the calendar and set up a date.”

“Yes, please!” The woman was excited as she went to the counter with him. “Did I mention that I’m single?”

“He always makes it look so easy,” Selena muttered standing next to Peggy. She’d already rung up her customers who’d left the shop with dozens of tulips, daffodils, and hyacinth bulbs for fall planting.

Peggy smiled at her. Selena Rogers had her long black hair tied back from her cocoa-colored face. Her golden, whiskey-colored eyes were focused on Sam who was busy charming his new landscaping conquest.