“We need a lawyer.” Annabelle Ainsley’s voice was decisive. “Dorothy, isn’t your son-in-law the district attorney? He could represent us.”
“Don’t be stupid, Annabelle,” Mrs. Waynewright cautioned. “The district attorney
prosecutes
people! He can’t represent us if he’s accusing us of a crime.”
“Besides, my son-in-law is a corporate attorney, not the district attorney,” Dorothy added.
Peggy had heard enough. “No one is being accused of anything yet. We don’t know what happened to Lois. She may have had a heart attack and died out here before we arrived. The police are here to figure that out.”
“Then where’s her car?” Geneva demanded. “She didn’t
walk
out here, not with her lumbago. If she drove out here, her car would be here now.”
“She’s right,” Lilla hissed, caught up in the investigation. “We have to find Lois’s car.”
“But which one?” Grace asked. “Lois had that silver Mercedes, the one with the gray leather trim inside. But she also had that old brown Cadillac she liked so well. The one her husband gave her for her fiftieth birthday. You know the one I mean.”
“Would she have driven either one of them out here?” Annabelle questioned. “Don’t forget; she was a stickler on keeping her cars clean. Not an easy thing to do right now. Would she have brought either one of those vehicles down here, knowing how dirty they’d get?”
Mrs. Waynewright put her skeletal hand with its plethora of diamond rings on Annabelle’s shoulder. “Look! Isn’t that Arnie? That poor boy. They were very close, you know. Let’s go over and say something to him. He needs all the support he can get right now.”
“But the police officer said to stay here,” Jonathon reminded them.
“We aren’t suspects”—Geneva looked at Peggy—“right?”
Peggy shrugged. “Not as far as I know. They’ll want to ask you some questions, so don’t go too far.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before all of the ladies swarmed to see Chief Mullis. “You think this will be all right?” Jonathon looked at her. “I mean, they have a valid point about Lois’s car.”
She agreed. “They do. There’s no point in speculating about it. We’ll have to leave it to the police. At least for now.”
TWO HOURS LATER, a rookie police officer who’d started on the force at the same time as Peggy’s son, Paul, dropped her and her mother off at historic Brevard Court. College Street was crowded, but the squad car cut through the traffic like Moses parting the Red Sea.
“Thanks for the ride,” Peggy said. “I’m glad things are going so well for you, Allan. I know your mother is very proud of you.”
“She’d like it a lot better if I wasn’t wearing this uniform,” he confessed with a smile. “She wanted me to follow in the family footsteps, you know. Everyone
must
be a lawyer.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with that noble profession,” Lilla added. “I don’t understand why men want to play with guns and wear uniforms. Is it the shiny buttons?”
Allan laughed, his face lean and vital beneath his crew cut. “I don’t know about other men. It might sound corny, but I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to be out there helping people who really need help.”
“You sound like Paul,” Peggy intervened. “I’m glad we had a chance to talk. I’ll see you later.”
Lilla got out on the crowded sidewalk that led to the wrought iron gate opening into Brevard Court. The shops in the courtyard were arranged carefully around the brick walkway that led into Latta Arcade, a turn-of-the-century cotton marketplace upgraded for shopping. The atmosphere between the arcade and the courtyard was relaxed, almost as though it still lingered in a bygone era. Traffic on College and Tryon streets disputed that claim, but even the hectic pace of the city couldn’t budge the dose of Southern hospitality the area reflected.
Cheerful red begonias nodded in the warm breezes that swept through the courtyard. Peggy enjoyed seeing them there, survivors of the hot, dry summer. With the drought had come water restrictions, which precluded using any of the precious resource on something as trivial as plant life. She’d circumvented those rules by catching rainwater in barrels located outside her shop and using it to water what she could.
Summer was always hard on garden shops since it was an in-between season. Too late for spring planting; too early for fall bulbs. The drought had made a miserable season even worse as water restrictions forced Charlotte’s residents to give up taking care of their plants. Fall wasn’t looking much better. They were only a few weeks into autumn, but there was no relief in sight for the area’s thirst. Barely two inches of rain had fallen here in the last few months.
“I’m going to call your father and have him come get me.” Lilla took out her pink cell phone and pressed speed dial. “I know you’ll want to stay here a while. I don’t want to take you away from anything.”
“Thanks.” Peggy barely heard what she’d said. She was focused on getting to the Potting Shed. It had been a trying day since she’d joined the expedition to Lake Whitley at six-thirty this morning. It hadn’t improved upon finding Lois’s dead body. She just wanted some peace and quiet in her own world.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into all that,” Lilla continued as she waited for Peggy’s father to pick up the phone. “Who knew that would happen? I never dreamed I’d actually see a dead body that hadn’t visited the funeral parlor yet.”
Peggy stepped into the Potting Shed and took a deep breath of the sweet air. It was a mixture of plant life, mulch, and fertilizer. The scent teased her nose and was a balm to her troubled spirit.
There was no sign of the summer flood that had forced her to close the shop for a month of renovations. A pipe, probably as old as the shop, had burst, ruining the heart pine floors and damaging the walls and shelves. Good insurance and a lot of help had put it all back together even better than before.
The furniture she’d once carried samples of was gone, no longer part of her stock; she couldn’t compete with the Smith and Hawken garden store that had moved in virtually across the street in the Wachovia Atrium. In its place was a large pond, the antithesis of the drought outside. Minicattails were in full bloom alongside heavenly white lotus flowers. They perfumed the shop with their magic.
This was all possible, despite the drought, because businesses were allowed an exemption from water restrictions. It was anyone’s guess how long that would last. Everyone was nervous seeing the lake levels drop each day on television.
“So, how was the bone-gathering trip?” Selena Rogers, Peggy’s head shop assistant asked from behind the counter. Selena was a striking girl with sun-burnished brown hair and brilliant blue eyes. She worked part-time for Peggy and was the backbone of the retail business. Selena was in her second year of college.
“It was unusual.” Peggy didn’t want to go into it any further.
“We found a dead body,” Lilla blurted out.
Selena stared for a moment, then started laughing. “I’m sorry. Really. I couldn’t help it. But it’s getting where it’s not an outing with Peggy if you don’t find a dead body.”
“What’s so funny?” Sam Ollson came in from the back storage area and took off his gloves. “You guys have all the fun up here while I’m in back shoveling manure.”
“I guess Jerry came through with that delivery.” Peggy tried hard to change the subject. Selena was right. It was as though dead bodies were attracted to her. Of course, some of that was because of her work with the police. The few times she’d been involved in situations that required her to see a dead person had been out of her control.
“Oh, no”—Selena held up one hand—“you’re not getting away that easy.”
“She found another one.” Sam shook his golden blond hair away from his face. “What happened this time?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Peggy said. “I came here to get away from it.”
“Well,
I want
to talk about it.” Her mother took a deep breath to do just that. “It was a terrible experience.”
Selena grabbed a Coke from the minifridge and settled Lilla on a bench near the pond. “You poor thing. Sit here and tell us all about it.”
“They just want to hear the lurid details, Mother,” Peggy told her. “Please don’t indulge them.”
“Hey! We’re like the Scoobies,” Sam protested. “We’ve solved a few mysteries with you, Peggy. You can’t just cut us off this time.”
“There’s nothing to cut off,” Peggy said. “A poor old woman died in a bad situation. Case closed. Nothing to solve. Could we get back to work before I fire both of you?”
Sam smiled, deep blue eyes twinkling in a perpetually tanned face. He was a giant of a man with a large chest and muscled back from his years working as the head of landscaping for the Potting Shed. “You can’t fire me, partner. We have a contract made unbreakable by my attorney-sister.”
“You could fire
me
, I suppose.” Selena scratched her head. “But I don’t think it’s very likely. So step aside if you don’t want to share the gory details. Spill it, Mrs. H.”
Lilla fanned herself with a large seed packet she’d taken from the shelf beside her. “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. The poor woman was out in that mud for God knows how long. People poked her because they didn’t know what she was. Who could deserve such a fate?”
Peggy excused herself from the drama. Sam and Selena moved closer to hear everything.
It wasn’t that Peggy couldn’t handle what she saw, and possibly had seen worse. It wasn’t necessarily that she felt so bad for Lois. At the moment, she felt worse for herself. Maybe it was selfish, but it had just been that kind of day. Seeing the dead face in the mud amid the hundred-year-old bones of villagers made her feel old and tired. No doubt some time alone and a cup of peach tea would put things in proper perspective. But right now, Selena’s laughter was more than she could handle.
She walked through the shop, checking on her plants. Some of them were growing on shelves under ultraviolet light beside their boxes and packages. There were also hydroponic pumpkins and cucumbers spiraling down from the ceiling with their roots above the tender, green vines. The sight of them never failed to impress a customer. She was thinking about adding a few flowering vines, but couldn’t let herself use any more water for the shop than she was already using. She recycled and used whatever water would’ve been wasted, but she felt guilty using more than her share.
The bell on the courtyard door to the Potting Shed rang as it opened. She knew it had to be someone familiar, since the three by the pond never moved or stopped discussing Lois’s death.
“Hi, Grandma!” Paul’s voice rang through the shop. “Where’s Mom?”
“She’s back there sulking,” Selena told him. “Did you hear she found another dead body?”
“I heard.”
Peggy came from the back of the shop and smiled at her son. Paul was tall and lean like his father, John, who’d died while answering a domestic violence call more than two years ago. That was where their likeness ended for the most part. Paul had fiery red hair, like Peggy in her youth, and bright green eyes. He also had her temper, a fact that had put them at odds many times.
“There you are!” He hugged her. “Are you okay?”
“As good as can be expected.” She wiped away a stray tear that had somehow formed on her freckled cheek.
“I heard what happened out there. Poor Mrs. Mullis. It had to be terrible for all of you. What were you doing out there, anyway?”
“I was helping your grandmother with her group project of collecting bones for the historical society.”
“You didn’t tell us that,” Sam said. “That makes it even better.”
While Lilla explained the importance of collecting the bones from the dry lake, Paul offered to take his mother home. “You look like you could use some time on your own.”
She was surprised and pleased by his perception. This from her son whom she sometimes despaired of understanding. Was that how her mother felt about her?
Her cell phone rang, and when she answered, Geneva Curtis was on the other end. “Peggy? We need your help. Something’s wrong with what happened to Lois. We don’t think it was an accident. We’re at her house. Can you come over?”
3
Zinnia
Botanical:
family Asteraceae
These flowers, which have grown to be tremendously popular in the United States, are native to Mexico, where the Spaniards called them
mal de ojos
(ugly to the eye). They were first cultivated in Austria in 1613. In the language of flowers, zinnia means thoughts of absent friends.
“I THINK IT IS PERFECTLY right for me to come with you,” Lilla said. “Even though I wasn’t invited, I
was
the one who introduced you to the group in the first place.”
“That’s fine, Mother,” Peggy said for the tenth time since they’d left the Potting Shed. She hadn’t been happy about leaving the shop so soon, but her mother had convinced her that the ladies needed her. Unfortunately, there was no foot traffic coming through Latta Arcade. With a sigh, she agreed to close early so Selena could go home and study for a test while she went to meet with Geneva and the other ladies of the historical society.