Fruit of the Poisoned Tree

night’s sleep for. “I hope to God I’m right.”

“Well, it’s only a theory. Anyone can make a mistake. You’ll have to look at something else if you’re wrong.”

“No, I mean I hope I’m right doing this. Sometimes all branches of science get so eager to show everyone the possibilities, to find the facts, they forget not everyone might be ready for them.”

Steve covered her hand with his. “If someone poisoned your friend, you’re right to find out. I’d want my friend to do that for me, even if it made other people’s lives uncomfortable for a while. You’re doing the last thing you’ll ever do for him, Peggy. Don’t feel bad about it.”

“Thank you. I’m not sure if Beth will feel the same way. But I appreciate the sentiment and the support.”

Steve dropped her off at her house. “I’d come in, but I have to go home and stand in the shower for an hour or two while I burn these clothes. Let me know if you find anything. I’ll be glad to go with you to the police or to talk to Beth. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

“And I’d kiss you for offering.” She grinned. “But I don’t think we should get that close. With both of us smelling this bad, it could cause some kind of explosion that would destroy the very fabric of time.”

He laughed. “No more science fiction for you. Good night, Peggy. I’ll talk to you later.” He didn’t try to kiss her.

AN HOUR LATER, AFTER taking a long shower, Peggy threw away her ancient gray sweat suit. She walked Shakespeare after cleaning up what was left of Mai’s begonia, which he’d managed to knock on the floor. There wasn’t much, but she found one healthy stem just above a leaf node and cut it off. After dipping the end in rooting hormone, she put the cutting in some moist potting soil and said a little prayer over it as she put it into the kitchen window. It couldn’t hurt.

Peggy sat down at the kitchen table when she was finished and looked at the jar of honey in the plastic bag. It would be simple to throw it back in the garbage. Hunter, Sam, and the other kids out there at the landfill wouldn’t care what happened now that the adventure was over. Hunter might even welcome not seeing the jar again. Peggy could explain to Steve, and he’d understand.

It was only that nagging voice in the back of her head that drove her to search for the jar once she’d thought about the bee pollen found in Park’s system. It was seeing Park’s tired face at the hotel when he invited her to dinner when they got home. It was recalling when he stood beside her as they lowered John’s coffin into the ground. Sense and reason were fighting a losing battle against those powerful images in her mind.

If she was right and the honey was poisoned, the chances were the police would begin looking at Beth again as a suspect. She had opportunity. They’d argue she had motive. Peggy couldn’t offer them a better suspect. She didn’t know for sure she ever could. How much satisfaction would there be in seeing Beth behind bars for a crime Peggy knew she didn’t commit? To see her children raised by grandparents or strangers?

She roused herself from her slumped, exhausted position at the kitchen table. On the other hand, if the honey was poisoned and it was responsible for Park’s death, someone killed her friend. Or at least contributed to his death. She had a responsibility to him as well. She had to trust her instincts. Beth didn’t do this. She had to believe they would find the person who did this to Park, even if Beth had to suffer some discomfort while they searched for the truth.

Making the decision gave her the strength to put the kettle on the stove and go upstairs to get dressed. She had no classes that day, but she was due at Whiskers and Paws for Shakespeare’s first obedience class that afternoon. Plenty of time to go in and talk to Mai and spend some time at the Potting Shed.

She put on her warm cranberry-red sweater and matching wool slacks, then fussed with her hair before finally covering it with a cranberry wool cap. She drank her tea and ate some orange bread before closing Shakespeare into the laundry room. “You only have yourself to blame,” she told the whining Great Dane. “If you’ll stop vandalizing the house, I’ll let you out. Until then, you’re under restriction.”

Peggy rode her bicycle through the early morning traffic before rush hour. It was cold, frost making her face feel tight. There was light on the horizon behind the tall buildings that made up the downtown area of Charlotte as the sun began to rise. It would be another hard night for the trees and plants around the city. The heavy white frost lay thick as icing on a birthday cake as she locked her bike in the rack outside the uptown precinct.

“Can I help you?” the sergeant behind the desk asked brusquely when she walked through the door.

She glanced at the three men and one woman already waiting in the outer area. They looked back at her with vacant stares and hostile expressions. “I’d like to see Mai Sato. Is she in?”

“Not yet. Take a seat.”

Peggy sat by the side door that led to the offices in the back. John had worked here for twenty years, but everything had changed since he died. Once in a while, she met someone who’d worked with him. Mostly his friends were retired or had changed divisions.

She looked at the ficus she’d managed to save from extinction last fall. The police department didn’t have the budget to hire the Potting Shed or any other plant service to take care of the random plants at each of the precincts, according to Al. Moving the plant away from the door helped it survive in the hostile office environment, but it wouldn’t last for long without some care. She stuck her fingers in the soil. It was too dry. She’d mention it to Mai when she saw her. Someone had to water the thing once in a while, and she didn’t see that task falling to Jonas or Al.

Mai finally came in about forty-five minutes later. “Peggy! What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story.” Peggy stood up on stiff legs from her hard wood chair. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure. I have a meeting at ten. But I’d love to talk to you until then.” Mai took Peggy back to her office that wasn’t much larger than a broom closet.

Peggy explained about her theory and her hunt through the landfill during the night as Mai made coffee.

The assistant ME’s eyes widened as she listened. “I can’t believe you did that!” She hit herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand. “What am I saying? Of course I can. Did you bring the honey with you?”

Peggy pulled it out of her book bag. She set the jar in the plastic bag on Mai’s desk. “I haven’t tested it yet. I thought it might be better if we did it here.”

Mai didn’t touch the plastic bag, just looked at it. “You know, even if we find the same pollen in this honey, we won’t be able to use it as evidence. Anything could’ve been added or tampered with other ways.”

“I understand the chain of evidence.” Peggy’s green eyes were thoughtful. “But if the enzymes you found in Park’s body match the enzymes in the honey he got from the hotel, it might give you something to work with that you can use as evidence.”

“This could bring forward a case against his wife.” Mai didn’t shrink from telling her the truth. “She had opportunity, since the honey was at home with him. She had motive, ten million dollars’ worth of motive. You could be opening up a big can of worms with this jar.”

Peggy sighed and looked at the jar. “I know.”

Mai put on surgical gloves. “Okay. Let’s get started.”

11

Sassafras

Botanical: Sassafras albidum

Family: N. O. Lauraceae

Sassafras was used by Native Americans for infections and gastrointestinal problems. It was one of the first exports from the New World as a beverage and medicine, the originator of the term “root beer.”

“IT’S DEFINITELY HORSE CHESTNUT honey.” Mai looked at the two samples under the microscope. “And it matches the pollen we found in Mr. Lamonte. Is there anything else you can tell me about it?”

Peggy sighed. It was a bittersweet victory for her since there was no way of knowing how it would affect