Pretty Poison

Peggy and Hunter congratulated each other when they reached the steps. They both hugged Sam, leaving him with a confused look on his face.

“I’m staying here for a while.” Hunter took her briefcase from Peggy. “The assistant DA is on his way. I need to know what they have on Mr. Cheever.”

“Thanks for your help,” Peggy replied. “Please keep me in the loop.”

“Does this mean we’re still trying to find out who killed Mark Warner?” Sam asked her.

“Yes, it does.” Peggy told him about the interview as they drove back to her house. “I was right. They may want to blame this on Mr. Cheever, but he didn’t do it. From what he told me, the killer may be a woman.” She went on to tell him about Ronda McGee and her floral purchase. “She looks pretty strong. I think she could’ve done the job.”

“But what would her motive be?” Sam considered the matter seriously as he negotiated the afternoon traffic. “Unless maybe Warner was refusing to leave his wife for her.”

“I don’t know yet. Why does any human take the life of another?”

“You’re not going all philosophical on me, are you? I get a lot of that at school, you know.”

“It’s a valid question,” Peggy argued. “People kill people for many different reasons. Ronda may have a motive we can’t begin to understand.”

Sam turned into her driveway. “Looks like you have company.”

A Charlotte-Mecklenburg squad car was parked behind a green Saturn. Peggy groaned. “Oh no.”

6

Crocus (wood crocus)

Botanical: Crocus sativus

Family: Iridaceae

The crocus was highly valued in ancient times. Used in rituals, it was also a food and a source of dye. Its petals were scattered on the ground at social gatherings and on the bed of newly married couples. Crocus essence was used as a perfume. The stamens of autumn-flowering Crocus sativus are also known as saffron.

STEVE WAS WALKING the Great Dane in the front yard. Even though the dog was thin, it was all he could do to hold the leash. He tried to pull the animal toward Peggy, but it resisted, almost pulling him into a flower bed.

Paul made a beeline for his mother. “Who is that man? Is he the one who was here last night?”

Sam laughed. “I’ve got some studying to do. Give me a call later, Peggy. Hey, Paul.”

“Hey, Sam.” Paul turned back to his mother. “Is that your dog?”

Peggy frowned. She wasn’t crazy about his tone. “For now. I plan to look for his owner. I don’t want him to be taken to the pound.”

A huge, whooping shriek came from behind them. Clarice was about to come out and join in the conversation when she saw the Great Dane. Poopsie barked from her arms. “There it is! I knew I wasn’t imagining it. I’m going to call 911.”

“You don’t need to call anyone.” Peggy called the dog to her, and he immediately came running, dragging Steve behind him. “This is my dog, Clarice.”

“That’s the man who was here last night,” Clarice told Paul.

“The dog may look puny, but he’s all muscle.” Steve gave Peggy the leash, trying to catch his breath.

“Who are you?” Paul demanded. “Let’s see some ID.”

Peggy put her hand on Steve’s as he started to take out his wallet. “This is my son, Paul. Paul, this is Steve Newsome. He’s a vet. He brought my dog to me. That’s all. You don’t have to harass him.”

Paul stared at her hand on Steve’s. “A vet, huh? How much is he charging you for that flea-bitten mongrel?”

Peggy kept her Irish temper down with an effort. “I think we should go inside and talk about this. My daddy always told me it was ill-bred to stand outside and air your dirty laundry.”

Paul didn’t argue. He marched straight to the front door and waited for her with a mutinous look on his narrow face.

Clarice pouted. “Peggy, that dog is too big to live here. We only have that little fence between it and my Poopsie. Unless you plan to put up a bigger fence, it will have to go.”

“I plan for the dog to stay inside except when I walk him. I’ll talk to you later, Clarice.”

“Maybe I should go.” Steve handed her a bill for his services. “This is for you. If it’s not high enough, I can tack on more. I’m flexible. There’s a note on there about what you should feed him, further care. Basic stuff. If you have any questions or need help walking him, let me know.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry about all this.”

“That’s okay.” He smiled at her. “Paul looks like you, you know. I’ll talk to you later.”

Using a combination of pushing and pulling, she managed to get the dog into the house. Then she made Paul move the squad car so Steve could back out of the drive. She hoped her son would leave, too, but he pulled back in, slammed the car door, and confronted her.