Lethal Lily (A Peggy Lee Garden Mystery) (2 page)

Unit 34.

Peggy stopped and looked around. There was no sign of Harry. Maybe he’d had to hide to stay away from the person on the golf cart. She put the bolt cutters down for a moment to take out her cell phone. What in the world was he doing now?

Before she could punch the call button by Harry’s name, bright lights flashed in her eyes, and a loud voice said, “This is the Charlotte/Mecklenburg Police. Put your hands on your head, and kneel on the pavement.”

Norfolk Island Pine

Araucaria heterophylla is a distinctive conifer, and a member of the ancient family, Araucariaceae. It is not a true pine. The tree comes from Norfolk Island in the Pacific Ocean between Australia, New Zealand, and New Caledonia. While this species grows as tall as any pine tree in its native land, it is sold at Christmas as a small sprout because of its shape.

Chapter Two

“She was here a few days ago. She wanted to pay the back fees on that unit.” The manager of the storage facility was quick to point out her possible guilt. He was a large man with a stomach that rolled over his waistband. There was tomato sauce smeared on his white T-shirt.

“Okay.” The officer taking his statement pulled at his cap in frustration. The manager had said much the same thing three or four times. “You’ll have to come down to the station and file a formal complaint.”

“I’ll be glad to do that,” the manager declared. “These creeps sneak in here and steal me blind all the time.”

A second officer had helped Peggy to her feet after placing a plastic restraint around her wrists. He walked her to the backseat of the squad car and carefully nudged her inside.

Peggy was silent. She knew better than to try to defend herself. She hadn’t really done anything wrong. The camera at the gate would show Harry punching in his code. He owned the storage unit, as far as she was willing to admit.

True, they’d been in
her
car—which was still somewhere on the lot. She wasn’t volunteering that information. If she was lucky, she could still avoid having it towed to the impound lot. She knew from experience that getting a car out of impound was expensive.

She was fortunate that neither of the officers knew her. With Paul on the job, and many officers still on duty who knew John, she was well acquainted with members of the police department. Not being recognized was a plus toward getting away with being caught here. The fewer people who could identify her, the better. She wasn’t as worried about the police officers who didn’t know her or what would happen to her.

She was a tiny bit uneasy about explaining everything to Al McDonald, John’s old partner, and to her husband—not to mention Paul.

Her plan at that moment was to call Harry as soon as she got to the station, lose her temper, and insist that he come to bail her out of jail. She had a very good lawyer who knew how to keep her mouth shut. With any luck, she’d be processed and out in time for breakfast, without her family or friends knowing what had happened.

The most they could charge her with was a misdemeanor anyway. That wouldn’t affect her status as a contract forensic botanist with the police department. In all, it didn’t look too bad for her. She just had to stay patient. And quiet.

But it was going to be hell for Harry when she was done with him.

As the police car rolled slowly out of the storage lot, she looked out the window, wondering where he’d disappeared. The police had confiscated the bolt cutters, so he wouldn’t be able to get anything more done that night. They’d have to figure out a new plan to get the files before they were auctioned.

She sat back as the car reached the city street. Even though it was late, there were lights everywhere. Peggy had lived in Charlotte since she’d married John Lee right out of college. That was more than thirty years ago.

Back then, the city was much smaller, quieter, and definitely not as well lit. She liked it better the way it had been—before the modern skyscrapers had replaced the older buildings that had carried so much charm and elegance.

But it wasn’t a bad city. Certainly not as bustling as Atlanta.

She’d been raised on a farm outside Charleston, South Carolina. Peggy had thought of moving back there after John had been killed. Paul had been insistent on staying. He was still in school, and hadn’t wanted to leave his friends.

Her parents had sold their farm a few years back, and moved to Charlotte to be closer to the only family they had left. Now Paul was married—and about to be a father for the first time. She definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

 “We’re getting out here.” The same officer that had guided her into the car helped her out. He walked her into the police building and took off the plastic restraints when they reached the booking window.

“Name?” The grizzled sergeant at the desk asked, not looking up from his battered, gray computer.

“Margaret Hughes Lee.” Peggy knew the sergeant. She hadn’t seen him in a few years, but she and John had gone to his daughter’s wedding. She hoped using her full name might throw off off—if he didn’t look up.

“Address?”

“1421 Queens Road, Charlotte.”

“Are you a U.S. citizen?”

“Yes.”

The sergeant eyed her. Peggy contemplated a shriveled Norfolk Island pine on his desk.

“
Peggy
?” His nasal voice was incredulous. “Is that
you
?”

“Hi Don.” She smiled at him. “How is Samantha? You know this poor little pine could do with some water.”

“Samantha?” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Is this some kind of joke? Is someone playing a prank? Because if they are, it’s in poor taste at this time of morning.”

She sighed. “I’m so sorry. It’s not a joke. More like a mistake. If you could book me, and keep it under your hat, I’d appreciate it. There’s no reason for everyone to know.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Not really. The charge is only a misdemeanor. Just put me in the system, but don’t tell anyone.”

* * *

Peggy sat on a bench for about forty-five minutes as hookers and drug dealers were brought in, charged with their crimes, and dispersed to jail cells.

Why couldn’t that have happened to
her
?

She hadn’t been restrained again, and no one looked twice at her. They’d given her cell phone and keys back. She knew what was coming, and wished it was already over. She had a lot of pent up rage that was waiting for Harry.

Finally, a tall black man with muscular shoulders and a bulbous nose was buzzed through the door from the main part of the police station. He wore a tired expression on his middle-aged face and a golf shirt with trout on it.

Al McDonald had been John’s best friend growing up. They’d gone to college and had joined the police academy together. Al had been John’s partner for twenty years. It had been Al who’d brought news of John’s death to Peggy.

“Al—”

“Not here.” He took her arm, and they went into a small room that smelled like disinfectant. It was used for lawyers to meet with their clients. He closed the door behind them. “Take a seat, Peggy.”

She was ready to deal with Al. She’d known Don had called him as soon as he’d refused to book her. She knew what she wanted to say, and she knew how he’d take it.

What she wasn’t ready for was the door opening again to allow her husband to enter the small room too.

Steve Newsome had a dazed expression on his handsome face. His brown hair was rumpled from sleep, jeans and T-shirt hastily thrown on. They’d only been married a few years—almost still newlyweds.

She sat at the table, and fixed her eyes on Al. “You had to call Steve?”

Peggy felt like a small girl again—called on the carpet for something she’d done wrong. She didn’t like the feeling. She was a grown woman, nearly sixty, for goodness sake. She didn’t have to check with the men in her life before she made a move.

“Peggy.” Al sighed and shook his head.

“Is my father on his way too?” She knew her insolent tone would rattle these two important men in her life. She didn’t care.

“This is serious business.” Al got off his feet by sitting in one of the hardback chairs. He’d been a beat cop, as John had, for many years. Both of them had fallen arches before they’d made detective.

She rolled her expressive green eyes. “It’s
barely
a misdemeanor. I wasn’t even holding the bolt cutters when the police arrived.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Steve demanded. “You were trespassing and caught attempting to break into a storage unit.”

“I wasn’t trespassing. I was with someone who had a code to get in the main gate and a key for the unit. I wasn’t
attempting
to do anything. I was just standing there.”

“Who were you with?” Steve asked.

“I’d rather not say.” She studied her cuticles.

“We have you red-handed. The storage manager wants to press charges,” Al grunted. “I can’t even believe I’m saying this to you.”

“Everyone needs to slow down and take a deep breath.” Peggy did as she advised them to make her point. “Have the manager look at the videotape at the gate. That should make it clear that I was there with one of people who rent their units.”

“The manager says the password your
friend
used to get in was fake. It was thrown out of the system a month ago. The unit you were trying to break into was confiscated for not paying the bill,” Al said. “The manager also said you tried to bribe him into letting you have the contents of that same storage unit before the auction. Anything you’d like to say about that?”

“Yes.” She got to her feet, shaking back her red hair that was tinged with white. “Are you planning to waterboard me? If not, I’m not telling you what I’ve been doing. I have the right to some privacy.”

Steve nodded. “Unless you get busted—which you have. Who’s the accomplice who helped you get into the mini-storage? Why were you there tonight?”

Peggy folded her arms across her chest. “If I’m not being charged, I’m going home. It’s been a long night.”

Al sat back and rubbed his big hand across his face. “You have always been one of the most
stubborn
women I’ve ever known.”

She smiled. “Right up there with Mary, right?” Mary was his wife of many years.

“That’s right.” Al got up too. “And that’s who I’m going home to right now. I know when I’m being stonewalled. Goodnight, Steve. She’s all yours. I’ll see you later.”

Peggy was relieved that she wasn’t being charged, even if it would have been simple to beat the charges than to explain them to Al and Steve. “Don’t worry so much. I know what I’m doing.”

Al hugged her, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. “Yeah. That’s what worries me. You almost made poor Don have a heart attack. If you plan on getting arrested again, go to another town.”

Once Al had left, Peggy knew the worst was yet to come. Even though she was ready to go, her car was still at the storage lot. That meant she had to ride home with Steve.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now.” He turned to her. “Where do you want to talk about this?”

English Ivy

English ivy belongs to the ginseng family and can be poisonous, if consumed. English ivy has overcome many obstacles to thrive in many countries. It will choke out other plants using hairy rootlets to tightly adhere to rough surfaces. Seeds are spread by birds.

Chapter Three

Peggy decided she wanted breakfast at the Waffle House—anything not to go home yet. Besides, she
was
a little hungry. It had been a long night.

Steve didn’t seem to care where they talked. They walked out to his car that was parked in front of the station. He opened the door and held it for her. She felt like she was getting into another situation she didn’t want to be in.

In the meantime, Harry was getting away, unscathed, when he should have been taking the heat with her. She longed to yell at him about his stupid, clumsy way of doing things.

First, she had to get through this with Steve.

“Where’s your car?” He checked the area before he got in. “Impound lot?”

She raised her chin. “No. I left it at the mini-storage. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

He didn’t start the car, instead staring out the window with his hands on the steering wheel. “Am I missing something? Am I doing something wrong, Peggy?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” She was about to go through the guilt wringer.

“Why didn’t you trust me with this? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on instead of going off on some hare-brained scheme where you could’ve been hurt?”

Peggy took a deep breath. She hated this part most of all. “Can’t we decide that sometimes our business and personal lives are going to be separate?”

“Is this business or personal?”

“Business, of course. This is part of something I’m looking into. You do things with the FBI that I can’t know about. Sometimes I have to do things that you don’t know about.”

“Seriously?” His anguished brown eyes pinned her. “Because I can’t see where this involves gardening, your shop, teaching, or forensic work with the medical examiner.”

She stared back—not wanting to hurt him or argue with him. But she was going to do this, whether he liked it or not. “It doesn’t involve any of those things, Steve. It involves what happened the night John was killed. You said yourself that he may have been killed because of the work he was doing with the FBI. I met a man who might know what happened. I’m doing what I can to figure it out.”

Steve was the one who’d told her about John working with the FBI. John had been working with him as his contact. “Who is this mystery man? Why didn’t he come forward after John’s death?”

“He said he did, but no one would listen.”

“His name? I know the people involved.”

“Harry Fletcher.” In a way, telling Steve about Harry might be for the best. He might know something about Harry that could explain why he was so messed up. After last night, Peggy thought that information could be helpful in keeping her out of jail—or worse.