Fruit of the Poisoned Tree (6 page)

When she looked down, her hand was covered in his blood. Or her blood. She wasn’t sure which. Did she cut herself putting her hand through the window? She knew it was too late when they pulled his mangled body from the car. A doctor, stopped in traffic by the accident, pronounced him dead a little after eleven a.m.

“Anything you can tell us about how this happened?” Highway Patrol officers joined the group working at the scene and started asking questions. “Where were you when the car came down?”

“We were in the southbound lane. We saw it happen like everyone else,” Sam answered. “We’re parked on the shoulder over there. We came over here to see if we could help.”

“He was my friend.” Peggy’s voice wavered as she spoke. She was freezing inside and out. Shock was beginning to set in. Nothing the officer said made any sense to her. “I have to call his wife.”

“We’ll take care of that, Dr. Lee. You just take it easy, ma’am,” the officer told her after getting her name and address from Sam when she didn’t answer him. “Could you tell from what you saw if Mr. Lamonte skidded off the ramp? Was there ice up there?”

“We were too far away,” she finally said, more to herself than him. “It didn’t look like he tried to stop at all. The car flew past the barriers. He told me he fell asleep. It wasn’t like him. But that’s what he said.”

She couldn’t bear to have someone tell her this was his fault. It might come out that way later, but she’d feel more herself by then. At that moment, she felt consumed by the event. She turned away from the officer and tried to focus on something else. Park’s car was squarely in front of her. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed.

“I appreciate your help, ma’am. We’ll finish up here if you’d like to leave.” The young patrolman smiled solicitously. He nodded to Sam and walked back toward other witnesses who were standing outside their cars with their arms wrapped around themselves as the icy wind rushed by.

Peggy stared at the wrecked car, not able to believe her friend was dead. Some crazy notion took hold of her half-functioning brain as she recalled they were supposed to have dinner Friday night. She’d have to call Park’s wife, Beth, and cancel. Or would Beth call her?

Sam put his warm arm around her shoulder and urged her toward the truck, worry and emotion softening his voice. “Come on. Let’s go. There’s nothing else we can do here. Let’s go back to the Potting Shed and get some tea.”

Peggy didn’t see the ambulance driver zip the black bag closed over Park’s face. But she heard the sound. It shredded across her skin like a knife. She took a deep breath and held tightly to Sam’s hand. “You’re right. Thanks for staying with me. I’m ready now.”

Shakespeare was barking and jumping in the cab of the truck. Sam had to push him down on the seat before he could get inside. He held the dog back so Peggy could open her door. The roar of traffic never ebbed. Horns blared and drivers shouted obscenities as they swerved away from them.

Even after they were safe in the warmth and quiet of the vehicle, Peggy could only stare out the window. She had no words to express the emotions smothering her. She wanted to make polite conversation with Sam. She could feel his anxious glances in her direction.

She got a Sani-Wipe out of her pocketbook and cleaned her hand as best she could. The glass hadn’t cut her. But she couldn’t force herself past the terrible blackness that wouldn’t wipe away as easily as the blood.

They were back at the Potting Shed before she realized where they were. The trip was a blur of sound and color that had no meaning. She kept seeing Park’s tired gray face at the hotel in Philadelphia as they argued about the estuary.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Sam’s blue eyes were studying her face. He took her cold hands in his and chafed some warmth into them. “You don’t have to be here right now. Selena and I can take care of everything. Keeley should be here soon, too.”

She patted his hand and forced herself to smile and speak. “I’ll be fine. I didn’t mean to scare you. It was such a shock. But life goes on, doesn’t it? I have to call Rue and let her know I’m not coming. Maybe she’ll have another appointment open in the next few days.”

“Okay.” He scratched his head and opened the truck door. “Maybe it’ll be better for you to be here instead of by yourself anyway. Would you like me to call Steve or Paul?”

“Of course not.” She stared at him. “I’m fine. There’s no reason to bother them. I just need a few minutes to pull myself together. I’ve known Park a long time. I think I’ll go in and have some tea. Then I’ll go see Beth.”

Sam formally escorted her inside, helping her sit down in the rocking chair that always ended up being part of the seasonal scene they created. In this case, she found herself seated beside the snowman they made with white Styrofoam. There was a robin on his shoulder and crocuses blooming, purple and yellow, from the band of his hat. Underfoot was a white blanket that was supposed to simulate snow. Here and there multicolored plastic flowers bloomed, showing their customers spring was only a few weeks away.

After a brief whisper from Sam, Selena rushed to the Kozy Kettle for Peggy’s favorite peach tea. She came back with a large cup of tea, some cookies, and Sofia. “I heard what happened.” Emil’s hearty blond wife crossed herself several times. “No one should have to die that way. It’s like the time my uncle Georgio died after he was crushed by the boulder. Who knew it would roll down and kill him someday, eh?”

Peggy accepted the hot mug, warming her cold hands on it, grateful for the tea and Sofia’s distraction. “Boulders falling on you is pretty tough to beat.”

“I don’t know.” Sam shuddered. “I’m never going on another ramp. That was too much like a movie.”

Selena put her arm around him and handed him a cup. “I got you some coffee. It has chocolate in it. That should make you feel better.”

“I hate it that Park died that way. He was so alone. I know he wanted to see Beth and the boys again. There wasn’t time.” Peggy ignored the banter.

“Georgio at least got to say good-bye.” Sofia shook her head. “Aunt Sarifina was in the house when it happened. She rushed outside to find him under the boulder.”

Selena wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Poor Uncle Georgio and Aunt Sarifina. What did they say to each other?”

“She beat him in the head with her towel. It was the only part of him she could get to. She said, ‘I told you to quit digging under that thing, didn’t I? Idiot!’ ”

Selena rolled her eyes and walked away. Sam held his laughter until he was on the aisle with the fertilizer and mulch.

Sofia took Peggy’s hand in hers. “You go through so much for your friends. If you need me, let me know. You could come and stay with us. God knows you should be with someone instead of rattling around in that big old house alone.” She paused and narrowed her heavily made-up eyes. “Have you had your house appraised recently? My cousin is in real estate, you know. She could get you a good price.”

Peggy almost choked on her tea. “Thank you, but I want to keep the house. I appreciate you coming over, Sofia. Thanks for the tea.”

“Anytime. What are friends for, eh?”

When the other woman was gone, Selena left the front counter. “How can you sit there and listen to her? She’s crazy!”

“She means well,” Peggy told her. “And why did
you
tell her about the accident? You go over there every day for tea. She wouldn’t have come if there wasn’t anything interesting going on over here.”

“You mean nothing she could relate a family story to?” Sam snorted. “She should write a book.”

Selena shrugged. “I don’t know. She looks at me with those crazy-person eyes, and I can’t help it. She asked me what was wrong, and I
had
to tell her. It was creepy.”

Sam brought a ripped bag of fertilizer up to the front with him. “Maybe you shouldn’t go in there anymore, Selena. Or maybe you should wear dark glasses when you go. That way her ‘crazy-person eyes’ can’t get you.” He made extraterrestrial whirring noises and chased Selena around the store.

Peggy focused on their bickering to push herself back to reality. What happened to Park was no less real to her, too fresh in her mind to chase away. But this was real, too. This was life. This was what continued. Even when she was gone, life would still go on. “Selena, can you stay while I go and see Beth? I don’t want her to be alone.”

“I have some studying to do for a math exam. But the shop’s been quiet. I can do it here.” Selena glanced up at Sam’s thunderous face as she finished.
“What?”

“I only have one run to make.” Sam mouthed the words,
Shut up! Don’t remind her the shop has been slow! She feels bad enough already,
to Selena. “I have to take those orchids to the Millers for the party tonight. Then I’ll be here, too. Want me to drive you over to Beth’s when I get back?”

“That’s fine, Selena. Thank you. And thanks anyway, Sam, but I’ll take my bike.” Peggy started to get up from the rocking chair. Selena and Sam rushed to take one of her hands and help her up. They were obviously overwrought as well. “I think I need some cold air in my face. I’m going to leave Shakespeare here since Beth has so many antiques in her house.”

“I’ll finish up that customer database when I get done studying,” Selena promised, then tried to make up for her previous words. “I didn’t mean the shop was going under or anything. I just meant it’s slow. But it’s always slow in February, right?”

“Pretty much.” Peggy put her cup on the counter and realized she hadn’t taken off her jacket since she came inside. “I’ll talk to you later.” She went to the restroom and switched on the light, mindful of them watching her. She remembered acting the same way when her grandmother was ill, before she died. Standing there watching her, wishing there was something she could do. Sam and Selena were like family to her.

The towelette from her pocketbook had cleaned most of her hand. She scrubbed her nails thoroughly with hot water and disinfectant soap, then looked at herself in the mirror. It always amazed her how the most terrible things could happen and never show up on a person’s face. Oscar Wilde had the right idea in
The Picture of Dorian Gray.
It was like they all had portraits somewhere that absorbed life’s impact.

Before she left, she picked up a small marjoram plant she’d potted weeks before.
Comfort and consolation.
It was all she had to offer Beth at this time.

The sun had already warmed the day when Peggy stepped outside into the courtyard. She unlocked her bicycle, tucked the plant into her satchel, and put on her gloves. Traffic was slow on College Street where Brevard Court and Latta Arcade fronted it. The wrought-iron gate that led into the courtyard was still wet from the melting ice. Not many people were in the shopping area yet. But even in winter, a warm sun and lunchtime brought out the office workers the downtown shops depended on.

Peggy turned her bicycle away from the downtown area and headed toward Myers Park, a well-to-do area of the city. The houses there weren’t as grand as they were on Queens Road where she lived, but they were part of the classic heart of Charlotte.

Most were maintained as they were when they were built in the 1940s, still inhabited by lawyers, doctors, and other professionals. Park could have lived anywhere, but he chose to raise his children in the same neighborhood where he grew up.

Riding under the skeletal branches of the huge old oak trees that dotted tidy brick, fenced yards and provided shade in the hot summer, Peggy was struck by the ordinary atmosphere around her. The intense blue sky seemed the same. Mothers put their children into car seats in Volvo station wagons. An errant sprinkler sprayed diamond droplets of water on top of frost-browned grass. Everything seemed the same. Yet everything had changed.

Peggy walked her bike into Beth and Park’s hushed front yard. The two-story redbrick house looked shuttered and dark. The sun had gone behind a cloud, making the house appear shadowed and sad. Had the police told Beth about Park yet? She would’ve called her friend first but didn’t want to unknowingly be the bearer of terrible news. The great oaks stood sentinel around the house, a few scattered brown leaves from last fall fluttering in the cold breeze.

She stood outside for a long time looking at the years of work put into the carefully tailored yard. Park was one of the few people she knew who could still get two cars into his garage. Maybe it was because he was rarely home. Maybe he was that organized. She remembered visiting his office once with John. It was as trim and tidy as his house.

The holly and azalea bushes were neatly shaped into rows around the house. Not cut into boxes that looked ridiculous but nicely rounded. Large acorns littered the brown grass at her feet. Fat squirrels chased birds through the tree branches. In one corner of the house, sheltered from the harsh winter winds, a young dogwood was blooming. “Silly tree,” she muttered, fingering the delicate white blossoms. “Don’t you know we’ll have more frost yet?”

A shaft of sunlight rested on the tender green leaves. That’s what encouraged the tree to bloom too early. It happened frequently to Charlotte’s ornamental pear and cherry tree population. Too much warm weather too early. The trees bloomed, gorgeous white and pink blossoms against the clear blue sky, then another shot of cold weather withered everything to brown. By the time real spring showed up, the trees had only green leaves to brag about.

The dogwood flowers meant
durability
in floriography. And the wood from the small trees was strong and flexible.
Like the area it’s growing in.

It was easy to lose herself in thoughts of her favorite things. But she still had to go inside. Peggy shook herself out of her cold misery and pushed her feet toward the front door. She was devastated by Park’s death. But for Beth, it was the end of the life they’d had together. How well she remembered. The loss of dreams and hopes for the future was as awful as not having John beside her in bed every night. She had to be strong for Park’s widow.