Poisoned Petals (18 page)

Peggy tried calling Al, but there was no answer. She dialed 911 on her cell phone and waited to push the Send button. She hid at the side of the building while she watched Darmus disappear up a flight of stairs toward what looked to be an apartment. The music was so loud from the club she didn’t have to worry about him hearing her behind him. Colored lights from the party flashed across the darkness, spotlighting the Dumpsters and pallets behind the building.

She kept her eyes on the stairs. The palms of her hands burned from where she fell. Her head pounded in time to the music. She glanced at the time on her cell phone. Almost twenty minutes had gone by. How long did it take to change clothes?

Pushing her cell phone carefully into her pocket in case she needed to hit 911 quickly, she went slowly up the stairs. She opened the door into a small kitchen that was spotlessly clean. A short hallway led to a living room, bathroom, and bedroom.

“Darmus?” She switched on the hall light and peered into the bedroom. There was no answer. She walked into the bedroom. It was empty. The bed was made up with a clean, white sheet and a pillow. The bedside table held a copy of his favorite book,
A Man for All Seasons
. The stump of a candle was next to it with a dried piece of mock orange.

“Deceit.” She touched the withered white flower with her fingertip. “Very apt, my friend.”

A small window was open to the night air and the loud music. Peggy looked down and saw a fire escape. Darmus had run away again.

THE NEXT MORNING Peggy mulled over her problem. They were burying “Darmus” that afternoon. A huge, full-page memoriam, paid for by Feed America, was in the
Charlotte Observer
that morning. The burial was at Pentecostal Church of Holiness cemetery.

She’d tried calling Al and eventually had gone over to his house. But he wasn’t home. His wife, Mary, told Peggy he was out at their cabin on Badin Lake in Montgomery County trying to prepare for the sad event. He and Darmus were close, and grief was hitting him hard.

With no one else to turn to, Peggy realized she was on her own. As much as she wanted Darmus to turn himself in, she didn’t want him to be with unsympathetic strangers in the police department. The fears from the previous night that nearly prompted her to call 911 were pushed back. Darmus deserved good treatment. She wasn’t sure he’d get it with anyone but Al.

But she couldn’t let Albert Jackson be buried in Darmus’s place. She’d tell anyone the truth before that happened. John always said it was easier not to bury a question than it was to dig one up.

As Peggy considered the problem, she decided her next step should be to talk to Holles. If he knew what was going on, she wanted to know, too. She drove to Holles’s apartment near UNCC. He didn’t live far from where Darmus had lived. Not feeling the least remorse for disturbing him, she pounded on his front door until he answered.

“Dr. Lee! What’s up?”

“Forget the canned speeches.” She pushed past him into the living room. “I need to talk to you about Darmus. I know you were in on it. I talked with him last night. He mentioned your name.”

A resigned sigh followed her words. “Please don’t judge me until I’ve had a chance to explain.”

She couldn’t believe it! He wasn’t even going to bother denying the hoax. “All right. Talk to me.”

He yawned and tried to straighten his hair with his hand. “Thank you. Would you like some coffee or tea?”

“No, thanks.” She realized he was still in his pajamas. She didn’t care. “How did the three of you think you could keep this a secret?”

The answer to that was obvious, she supposed. After all, they’d made it this far. With a sealed coffin, what was left to stop them?

“Well at least come into the kitchen,” he persuaded. “I could use some coffee.”

Peggy went into the kitchen with him, staring out the window at some daisies wilting in the heat. Their pots were too dry. A daisy could put up with almost any abuse, but everything needed a little water. There was some nice border grass edging the sidewalk going past the house, but it needed water, too.

“I know you must have a lot of questions,” Holles began.

“Where is Darmus?”

“I didn’t do
anything
.” He straightened his robe and poured some coffee into an orange cup that said Miami on the side. “Do you think I
wanted
to be part of this? I would only do something like this for
him
!”

“Just answer the question.”

He sat down at the white table. “Please sit down.”

She took a seat opposite him. “Tell me how it happened, Holles. What was your part?”

“I knew it was crazy to be involved with this. I didn’t ask to be. You have to believe that, Dr. Lee. I knew something like this would happen.”

“Calm down. Start from the beginning.”

He sagged back in his chair. “I haven’t heard from him since
they
faked his death.”

Peggy took a deep breath and prayed for patience. Years ago, her temper would have gotten the best of her. “Tell me what happened.”

Holles gazed at his coffee cup. “I didn’t know what to do when they told me. I overheard them talking one day at the college, and they swore me to secrecy. I didn’t
do
anything. But I couldn’t talk them out of it, either. I didn’t help them. I just knew about it.”

“Help them do what?”

“Darmus wanted to go away. He wanted to disappear. After Rebecca died, he fell apart. Maybe you didn’t see it. I didn’t either at first. Then he came to me late one night. He said he had to get away. I thought he meant a vacation. But it was something more.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was a frail, flawed man. He wasn’t a God. He was only a man!”

“Stop talking about him like he’s dead, Holles. He’s alive and in terrible trouble.”

“All right.” He sighed and hung his head.

“If Darmus wanted to disappear, why did he go through such an elaborate charade? Why didn’t he just leave?”

“I don’t know.” Holles shook his head. “I think Luther was afraid of losing Feed America. I think he thought if Darmus pretended to be dead, they’d just pass it to him. Which is what they did.”

“Which left Darmus free to disappear.” Peggy couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to get up and pace the kitchen. “But you haven’t talked to him since it happened?”

He shrugged. “He tried to think of everything. He was afraid there might be phone taps or people watching him. Crazy things. This wasn’t a sane decision.”

“Why didn’t you stop him? You could have taken him to a doctor!”

“Not with Luther backing the plan!”

“But Darmus didn’t tell you where he was going? You
happened
to be at the nightclub that was their meeting place?”

“I didn’t know. I swear they kept it from me. It was an accident that I was there last night.”

She stopped pacing. “We have to find him.”

“Why? This is what he wanted. We don’t have to say anything.”

“This is
wrong
.” She shook her head. “I can’t let it go.”

“What do you want
me
to do?” Holles asked her. “If anyone learns the truth now, Feed America, with all its good works, will be destroyed.”

She stared at him knowingly. “Luther left you in charge, didn’t he?”

He straightened his shoulders. “Yes. I’m not ashamed of it. I’ve worked hard to be in this position.”

“When the Council of Churches learns of this deception, they won’t find you so attractive to head a charity group.”

“We don’t have to tell them.”

“We have to tell the police.”

“We can’t tell the police! It’s not just me. It’s Darmus.”

“We don’t have any choice. We have to tell them. They can help us find Darmus.”

“He doesn’t
want
to be found.”

“I can’t help that.” She bit her lip. “Whether he likes it or not, he’ll have to be visible long enough to tell everyone what happened. He’s not a coward. He can disappear again if he wants to.”

He nodded, his face resigned. “It might take some time.”

“The service is today. We’re out of time. We can’t let this poor man be buried with Darmus’s name.”

“Haven’t you ever done anything you wished you could take back?” Holles asked as she turned to leave.

“I have.” She held her chin high. “And I haven’t always been able to make things right. But this is different. We can give this man a
real
burial. That includes his name.”

“All right. You’ve made your point.”

“Good. Call me if you think of any way to contact Darmus.”

“I will.”

“And Holles, just for my own satisfaction, how much money was the donation to Feed America that everyone is talking about?”

His blue eyes didn’t falter from her face. “Ten million dollars.”

“Oh my God!”

“But Luther didn’t want the group for the money,” he continued quickly. “Neither do I. It’s the opportunity to do real good.”

Peggy hoped she looked as skeptical as she felt. “Whatever, Holles. I don’t care what anyone’s motivation was for this. Contact Darmus if you can. Tell him I
will
go to the police before the service this afternoon.”

She walked out of the house and picked up the water hose she found on the sidewalk. A man on a lawnmower stared as she thoroughly watered the pots of daisies.

As she watered the plants, she thought about how Darmus needed help. She didn’t know why he fell apart. But concocting this wild scheme showed her he was troubled and had managed to keep it a secret. She feared Luther and Holles were another story. Possibly they were just involved in the plot for their own personal gain.

When the daisies were soaked, Peggy got in her truck and glanced at her watch. There were only a few hours until the memorial service. She was going to have to do
something
, but she didn’t know what.

Peggy dialed Al’s cell phone number again and got his voice mail. Again. “Where are you, Al?” she asked the phone.

She didn’t want to go home and face her parents and Steve right now. She couldn’t act like everything was all right or put up with their teasing about her secret stunts. So she drove to the Potting Shed. The day was warm and breezy. Inside the store she took stock of everything, moving like a furious tornado through the back storage area.

They were going to need more lime and one or two more garden trunks. The trunks were reproductions of antique steamer trunks made out of updated materials that could withstand sun and hot, humid weather. They held garden tools and other miscellaneous outdoor items. Their look was unique. It was as good for poolside as in the garden. And as Peggy was fond of saying, put a nice cushion on top and you had another seat.

Peggy only had room in the shop for a few larger furniture items. She sold them from companies who didn’t require her to keep stock. They drop-shipped them to her customers so the furniture didn’t take over the flowers and potting soil that were also necessary.

She saw that Sam and Keeley finished the Folger job. Sam had left her a note and the signed credit card receipt for the job.

 
Peggy laughed. Mrs. Folger was a good customer, but she tended to be a little melodramatic. The Potting Shed was spotless. There was nothing else she could do inside, but she still didn’t have the answers she was looking for. She grabbed up her gloves, some potting soil, and a spade and headed out into the courtyard to repot some plants.

Steve found her in the courtyard about two hours later. Her bare hands were in the good black soil she’d just put into the huge concrete urn, one of ten that graced Brevard Court.

“Hi.” He sat on the bench beside her.

“Hi.”

“Your mom and dad were a little worried about you when they got up and you were gone this morning.”

“My mom and dad, huh?” Peggy sat back on her heels, closed her eyes, and let the sun bake her face.

“I was a little worried, too.”

“Sorry.”

“Would you like to elaborate?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Did you know that taking care of the plants in Latta Arcade and Brevard Court was the first landscaping contract I got when I opened the shop?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I was so thrilled. I called Darmus, and he made me dinner that night. I ended up crying all over him because I’d done something wonderful without John. Because he missed it.”