Fruit of the Poisoned Tree

and the right movie.”

She laughed as she enjoyed his warmth. “How nicely cliche of you! You sound a little like a vampire.”

“A goody-bearing vampire,” he reminded her as he lightly bit her neck. “Not the nasty, bloodsucking kind.”

Shakespeare started barking and running toward the kitchen door. “He’s been so crazy since I got back,” Peggy complained. “I thought he’d settle down by now. I hope the obedience classes help him. Otherwise my insurance agent might demand I get rid of him.” She told Steve about the broken pot.

His eyes widened with amazement. “Are you kidding me? Eighty thousand dollars for an old jug? Was it made out of gold? Why didn’t you keep it in a safe?”

A knock on the door startled them both. “Well at least he seems to be a good watchdog. He knew someone was out there before we did.” Peggy went to answer it, ignoring his questions. How did one explain the value of a pot, hand-thrown by a poetry-writing slave two hundred years ago, if it wasn’t transparent to the other person?

“Was that the old brown jug by the front door? What kind of jug costs that much money?” Steve demanded, following her. “I mean, did it have gemstones in it or something?”

Peggy had her hand on the doorknob when it opened. “The door was unlocked,” Paul explained with a frown, seeing the surprised expression on her face. “You should keep this door locked. If you won’t set the alarm system, you could at least lock the doors. Oh. Hi, Steve. How’s it going?”

“Hello Paul. How are you?” None of Steve’s disappointment at not spending the evening alone with Peggy showed in his face.

“Fine, thanks.” Peggy’s son took off his jacket and rubbed his cold hands together. “I thought I’d come over and see how things are going, Mom. I didn’t know you had company. I probably shouldn’t stay. You probably want to be alone, huh?”

“Company?” She laughed. “Don’t be silly! It’s just Steve. We were about to have some snacks. It would be wonderful if you could stay.”

“And watch a movie about vampires.” Steve’s eyebrows went up and down suggestively at Peggy behind Paul’s back.

“Sounds great!” Paul looked at them both. “I haven’t had dinner yet. Are you sure there’s enough for me?”

An instant of silence was immediately followed by assurances that he was welcome to join them. Peggy smiled at Steve. He shrugged and smiled back at her as Paul told them about his day. There would be another time for the two of them to be alone.

“I’m glad you’re off duty so you don’t have to deal with the accidents that will pile up tonight.” Peggy looked around for something that could be dinner. She needed to shop, something she hadn’t done since getting back from Pennsylvania. “Al stopped for a couple of them on the way back from Queens this evening.”

“What was he doing at Queens?” Paul asked as he helped himself to an overripe banana from the basket on the table.

She absently explained about what happened earlier in the day with Isabelle, her mind on other things. There was some leftover rice in the refrigerator. If she added some peppers and eggs, that might be enough for a meal. Where were those Bojangles’ biscuits she brought home?

“Between you being at the accident scene when Lamonte died and his mother asking you to go to the police, that puts you in the middle, doesn’t it?” Steve said as he helped her with the rice.

“I suppose so. Al seemed to think so anyway. But there wasn’t much I could tell him.” She glanced up at Paul, who was looking at her strangely. “Is something wrong? Have you stopped eating rice?”

“That’s pretty weird. I was lucky to get out of the precinct when I did,” Paul explained as he helped himself to a piece of cheesecake from the refrigerator. “The news about Mrs. Lamonte was coming in just as I was leaving. Five more minutes and I’d still be there. Between the weather and the unexplained death, everyone who was there will be held up all night. They called Mai in five minutes after I left.”

Peggy quit rummaging for biscuits. “What about Beth? What happened?”

“Not that Mrs. Lamonte, Mom. The old one. The one you’ve always called Dragon Queen.” Paul looked at her. “Didn’t you hear? Somebody found her dead at her house.”

7

Camellia

Botanical: Camellia thea

Family: N. O. Camelliaceae

Common names: Tea plant

Historically dated back to 150 B.C., the camellia is a native of India but was cultivated very early in China. Both green and black tea come from the same species. Camellia is grown extensively for its beautiful, lush green foliage and multi-petaled flowers in the southern U.S.

“WHEN DID IT HAPPEN? ” Peggy waved the spatula she held as she scooped rice into a pan to fry it again. “How did she die?”

“I don’t know the details, or I’d still be there.” Paul shrugged. “Sorry. I could call Mai, if you like. I know you’re a friend of the family. Bad luck to lose two members in a less than a week, huh?”

It seemed like more than bad luck to Peggy. It would be different if they both died from natural causes. Of course she didn’t know about Isabelle yet. The Dragon Queen was old and frail. She could’ve had a heart attack in her grief about Park. She itched to know what happened. “No. That’s okay. I’m sure we’ll all find out tomorrow. I don’t want you to have to go in because of my curiosity. Let’s get some food and watch a movie.”

Halfway through the movie, the power flickered and went out. Paul was already asleep and snoring on the sofa. Peggy and Steve sat together in front of the fireplace. A chessboard was set between them. It was always difficult to say which of them would win the game. They were evenly matched. Steve was up one game at the moment, but Peggy knew the tide would change in her favor eventually.

“Will this cold snap hurt your plants?” Steve asked as he made a move.

“No. I have a small generator in the basement.” She examined his move and considered her own. “The power rarely stays off that long. Even after Hurricane Hugo hit here, the power was back on in a few days. I’m close to the university and the hospital. Between them, the city crews move pretty quickly.”

“Do you think the old lady was right about her daughter-in-law?” Steve sat back as he stretched his long limbs in the chair. “If anything suspicious happened to Isabelle, it could be bad for your friend, Beth.”

Peggy moved her bishop. “Since we don’t know what happened to Isabelle yet, let’s assume it wasn’t anything unusual. She was a terror, but she wasn’t healthy. What happened to Park may have been too much for even her iron constitution.” She didn’t admit that the thought of suicide crossed her thoughts. Isabelle was in a terrible state of mind. She was so alone without Park. It wasn’t impossible to imagine the old woman going that way on a cold winter’s night.

“Do you think she killed herself?” Steve suggested as he made his next move.

She looked up at him. He was very perceptive. It struck her frequently since she met him that he almost seemed psychic around her. Had he noticed? If so, he hadn’t said anything. “I suppose it’s possible. She didn’t have much to live for. But I really can’t imagine her doing it before she had a chance to see what happened with the investigation into Park’s death. She was aggressive about catching his killer.”

They finished the game as the fire in the hearth burned down to red coals. Peggy won. They were game for game and decided to leave it at that. The room was warm and smelled like popcorn. Steve added wood to the coals as Peggy put a blanket across her son. She looked at his sleeping face, thinking how much he still resembled his five-year-old self. He reminded her so much of John, even though people always said he looked like her.