Fruit of the Poisoned Tree

dead plants were delivered and couldn’t be used. If they’d managed to get the contract for the new uptown arena, it would’ve been worse. Their bid was too high on the arena for the new Charlotte basketball team, the Bobcats, but they did get the contract on the new mall.

Despite the problems, Peggy knew she had to keep pushing if she wanted to retire from teaching. It probably wouldn’t happen this year, but her plan called for her to be done with the university in the next five years. The Bobcats’ arena would’ve helped make that dream a reality. But the mall was a nice step forward.

She glanced at her mail on the floor after the emergency was dealt with. It would happen sooner or later. She loved teaching, but she felt like she was spread too thin. She didn’t want to do a bad job at either Queens or the shop. She only wanted to be sure it was possible to support herself by spending all her time at the Potting Shed. Sometimes it seemed too good to be true. Most people her age were thinking about retiring to a nice community where they could learn to dance and do woodworking. She supposed the Potting Shed was her retirement. Although woodworking sounded interesting, too.

After some hot soup and a cup of her own cold-preventing tea mixture—dandelion, astralagus, and lemon balm—she sorted through her mail and put in another call to Al. His line was busy, but she left a message to call her on the cell phone. She walked Shakespeare without mishap by tugging hard on the leash and threatening him. All the normal aspects of her life that she took for granted every day.

She thought about Isabelle, trapped in a cold world of her own making in that big, dark, empty house. She held herself aloof from being involved with her family while Park was alive. With him gone, she was completely isolated. It was better to have Paul call to remind her of the ordinary things than to be that alone.

Dressed in warmer clothes, Peggy went out again. It seemed ridiculous to call a taxi for a few blocks, and the city buses were unreliable, especially in bad weather. The sky was more ominous, but the freezing rain had stopped. She rode her bike through the slushy city streets toward the university. The storm was still closing in on the city. Headlights and streetlights were already turned on at three p.m., illuminating the gloom.

She realized as she saw the nearly empty parking lot that there might not be many students to teach, although most of them lived close by or on campus. But the school hadn’t closed down yet. Classes were still scheduled. She assumed she had one to teach.

A young man passed her, leaving the main campus as she was arriving. He looked familiar even with his head down against the wind and a large black scarf bundled around his neck. It wasn’t until she passed him that she realized where she’d seen him last. It was the scraggly young man in the red T-shirt from Philadelphia.

Peggy looked back around the corner of the redbrick building when she realized, but he was gone. She was sure it was the same person. What was he doing in Charlotte? Was there an environmental event she didn’t know about? Her friend, Darmus Appleby, usually gave her a call when anything was set. She didn’t always participate, but she gave a donation when she couldn’t give her time.

“There you are, Peggy!” Maurice Dillman was waiting for her at the double doors. “I was wondering if you’d make it.”

“Did you see that young man who went out just before I got here?” she asked him.

“I haven’t seen anyone but you for the last ten minutes.”

Peggy didn’t press the point, even though she was curious. The young man she recognized could’ve come from anywhere on the campus. She thanked Dr. Dillman for trading class times with her as they walked inside. He was eager to get home and out of the weather. “Watch out,” he warned as he bundled up inside the faculty lounge. “They don’t like to close down until they have to. I dismiss class early if I think it’s bad enough. I might be from Boston, but I get off the Charlotte streets if there’s bad weather. There are maniacs out there!”

Peggy laughed to herself at his response. She’d lived in Charlotte for thirty years after being raised on the mossy, sun-baked shores of the Atlantic Ocean. They never had snow or ice along the coast. But she’d loved the icy crystals since the first morning she saw them outside her window.

As for driving, there were maniacs everywhere. The people in Charlotte weren’t as confident or prepared as their colder neighbors when it came to bad weather. But they managed. Everyone bought plenty of bread, milk, and junk food and stayed inside until the storm cleared. It was the perfect thing to do in the cold.

Dr. Dillman’s first year biology class was waiting restlessly for her. She looked at his planner and followed his instructions for the class.

It was difficult for the students to concentrate on what they were doing as the darkness settled in outside like a thick blanket around them. Glances out the wide windows for any sign of accumulating snow or ice made normal class procedure difficult. When they finally got through the reproductive cycles of a fruit fly, a large sigh went up from the class.

That’s when the first snowflake hit the window followed by a flurry of white that began to cover the cold streets. “It’s snowing!” an eighteen-year-old student exclaimed with all the joy of a ten-year-old. They all looked toward the front of the classroom to see what Peggy’s response would be.

Before she could comment on the weather, class was over. She dismissed her students, reminding them to read their textbook. She gathered her books and coat for the trek home when the classroom was empty. The local weather channel was calling for six inches of snow overnight when she got to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee. So much for no snow in February!

Already classes and other activities were being canceled around the city. That much snow would paralyze Charlotte. It wasn’t so much that the county wouldn’t send out plows and salt the streets. Most people were afraid to drive on the stuff, knowing if everyone stayed in their homes, snow days became unofficial holidays.

Keeley called to say she was closing the shop early. Peggy agreed and thanked her as she got ready to leave the school. She almost walked into Al as she came around the corner talking on her cell phone. She told Keeley to be careful going home and put her phone away. “Thanks for coming over,” she said to him. “You could’ve called, you know.”

“I could’ve,” he agreed. “But this is a pretty serious accusation from Mrs. Lamonte Senior. Think there’s any coffee left in the cafeteria?”

“There’s at least something hot and dark that resembles it,” she joked, taking his arm as they walked. So much for her plan to keep the Dragon Queen away from the police. “Let’s go down and check it out.”

“SO WHAT CAN YOU tell me about Park Lamonte that I don’t already know?”

Peggy sipped her hot apple cinnamon tea as she watched the other people in the cafeteria standing at the windows looking at the snow. It was coming down fast and hard, big flakes whitening the leaden sky. “I don’t think what you need to know involves Park. It’s more what I can tell you about Isabelle.”

“Whatever you can tell me might be helpful. Lieutenant Rimer doesn’t think much of her accusation against Lamonte’s wife, but you know we have to follow up.” Al slurped his coffee, then opened the package of shortbread cookies he bought from a vending machine near the door.

“I’m surprised Jonas wanted you to get me involved any more than I already am.” She glanced at him. “He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

“No, ma’am.” Al dunked his stale cookie into his coffee. “But since you seem to know the family so well, I thought you might have some answers.”

“I’ll do the best I can.”

“We thought the wife didn’t play a part in his death since she was nowhere near the ramp when it happened. I can’t imagine Beth Lamonte climbing around under her husband’s Lincoln and cutting the brake line or anything. But she could’ve paid someone, I suppose.”

“Didn’t the insurance company check to see if the car was tampered with?”

Al shook his head. “They checked. But the car is in bad shape. They’re pretty thorough. But not like the ME on a murder case.”

Peggy nodded. “What about the autopsy?”

“Despite the grieving widow’s objections, the ME will be doing that over again, too.” He looked up from his coffee. “I told you I thought it was kind of strange when she first said she didn’t want to have it done. Always trust your instincts.”

“Your instincts are wrong in this case,” she snapped. “Beth had nothing to do with this. Isabelle never liked her. Beth wasn’t from one of the ‘right’ families. Isabelle didn’t want Park to marry her. Her people come from somewhere in Iredell County. Just a bunch of poor farmers. But Park fell in love with her. His first marriage was a disaster, even though his mother handpicked the woman. He was