Pretty Poison

born.

SUNDAY PASSED TOO QUICKLY with Peggy grading test papers and walking the streets looking for the dog’s owner. She gave out flyers at church that morning. Myers Park Presbyterian was within walking distance of her house. It was possible someone would recognize the dog’s description. Too many people suggested she call the pound. She wasn’t going to do that, even if she had to keep the dog for a while herself.

She pushed aside the urge to call Steve and ask him for advice about getting the dog to sleep in the laundry room without howling. It seemed to her things were moving very quickly between them, and she felt out of place calling him. Instead, she spent half a day on the Internet looking for dog training tips and possible names for the beast.

He followed her from room to room all day as she worked with her plants and polished furniture. She finally went to sleep with the dog beside her in bed.

Early Monday morning, she left for the Potting Shed. She didn’t have any choice but to bring the dog with her. He ran alongside her bike as she pedaled hard to keep up with him down Queens Road. Runners who ignored her before stayed out of her way. People waiting at bus stops quickly moved into the plastic shelters.

They reached Brevard Court in record time. It took Peggy a few minutes to catch her breath. The dog looked at her and wagged his tail as she tied his leash to an old radiator still in place behind the checkout counter. He lay down on the smooth wood floor and didn’t move as she got ready to open the shop.

“Are you Peggy Lee?”

A woman’s voice surprised her as she was taking out the new chrysanthemums. She was very attractive, tall and thin, with shoulder-length burnished red hair and bright green eyes. Her coat and shoes were new but not expensive. She clutched a worn brown leather pocketbook like she was afraid it would get away.

“Can I help you?” Peggy wondered if this was yet another of Mark’s conquests. At this rate, she was going to make enough money from flowers for the dead man that the police might question her motives.

“I’m Jane Cheever.” She held out her gloved hand. “You helped my father.”

“Of course! Sit down. Would you like some tea? I have some excellent orange spice. It will only take a minute to put the kettle on the hot plate.”

“No thanks.” Jane sat down on the bench anyway. “I wanted to meet you. And I wanted you to know I appreciate your efforts to help my father. I can’t believe a stranger would go to so much trouble for him. How did you meet him?”

“He spends some nights in the courtyard outside the shop,” Peggy answered, thinking nothing of it. “We’ve had some intense philosophical debates. He’s very intelligent.”

“Yes, well, he’s also very misguided.” Jane looked up at the window across from her, still gripping her pocketbook. “It was very embarrassing to have someone call about my homeless father. The police looked at me like it’s my fault he’s homeless.”

“I’m sure they didn’t think so.” Peggy tried to comfort her. “He’s a good man. Down on his luck, I know. But I don’t believe he’d hurt anyone.”

“Maybe. But he’s not really down on his luck. I’m afraid he’s lied to you about that. He was living with me and my husband. He didn’t like the rules. We thought he shouldn’t be wandering around all night. That he should take his medication. We got into an argument, and he left. That was two years ago. I haven’t heard from him since. Not that I didn’t look for him. I couldn’t find him. I even called in a missing persons report on him. I hate people calling him homeless. He has a home. He chose not to live there.”

Peggy understood, even empathized, but that didn’t change the fact that Jane’s father could go to jail for the rest of his life. “Have you seen him?”

“No. They said I could after the arraignment. I think that’s today.”

“I saw him Saturday. Something’s wrong with him. You know how he quotes things and knows everything about literature? He wasn’t like that. He barely knew who I was.”

Jane’s lips pressed tightly together. “Maybe now he’ll listen to me. He’s a stubborn old man. Maybe it would be better for him to go to jail. At least I’d know he was being cared for. He wouldn’t be out on the streets.”

“Don’t say that!” Peggy’s temper rose. “No one is better off in jail. Especially for a crime they didn’t commit.”

“Why are you so sure he didn’t kill that man? The police said they found him with his wallet and shoes. He could’ve knocked him down to take them. Maybe he didn’t mean to kill him. It might have been an accident. But he’s still responsible.”

“Hogwash! I know your father well enough to know he wouldn’t hurt anyone, no matter how desperate he was. I’d think you’d know him that well, too. I realize this is an emotional time for you, but he needs you to stand up for him. You can’t let him down.”

Jane lowered her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just get so desperate. My neighbors remember him from when my mother was still alive. He was an English teacher for forty years. When my mom died, he snapped. He wasn’t the same anymore. Everyone knows he’s been arrested for murder now. Even in Rock Hill, we keep up with what’s going on in Charlotte.”

Peggy didn’t know what else to say. She glanced around until she saw what she needed, then handed Jane a little plant. “Here you go. Snowdrops are for hope. That’s what we need right now. Plus a little faith. People don’t change. Your father is a good man underneath everything that’s happened to him. We have to find out who did this terrible thing before the system runs over him.”

“What can we do?” Jane looked at the plant in confusion. “They told me they have an airtight case against him.”

“We’ll see about that! You go and find out when the arraignment is. I found a lawyer for your father, but it would be nice for him to see a friendly face in the courtroom. I wish I could be there, too. Just remember he was there for you when you were a child. Do you have children, Jane?”