Fruit of the Poisoned Tree

“good morning, nightrose. found your culprit yet?”

“if you mean the poisoned honey, yes.”

“i was thinking more of who gave your friend the honey.”

“do you have some idea who that is?”

“check out some newspapers for names. maybe other people have been poisoned. They might have something in common with your friend.”

The small IM screen told her that Nightflyer had gone off-line. His cryptic message was annoying. This was important to her. If he had information that could help, she wished he’d just give it to her. Everything seemed like a game to him. It was hard to imagine John liking the man, as forthright as John was. But maybe Nightflyer had changed. Maybe there was more to it than she realized.

The Elmwood Farms’ page finally came up. A green, grassy meadow with pretty elm trees and a bright red barn gave the index page a nice profile. Who wouldn’t want to buy honey or any of the other products they had? It looked very wholesome and appealing.

She clicked on the product list when she saw no warning signs on the opening page. Was it possible no one else had reported problems with the honey? Elmwood Farms’ products included fresh eggs, honey, butter, cheese, and various cakes and breads. There was no sign of anything wrong on any of the Web site pages.

Peggy checked out her normal news sites. She couldn’t find any stories about Elmwood Farms. But she did find an article about a mysterious poisoning in Dubuque, Iowa. When she clicked on the link to the story, she read about another man who’d been poisoned by substances unknown. He was recovering in the hospital after being treated. She wrote down all of the information about the case and forwarded the link to her home computer.

As terrible as it was to think it, more than one poisoning could save Beth from further investigation. If the bees from Elmwood got into a batch of horse chestnut, that was no wrongdoing on anyone’s part. Maybe it was all a terrible mistake.

Except for Isabelle . . .

By that time, customers were starting to come into the store. Her mind seethed with the possibilities as she rang up sales on her new antique garden furniture selection. The unit was designed to look like an 1890s cupboard but was made of treated lumber and wrought iron so it could be used outdoors to store garden supplies.

The beauty of the sales was that she didn’t have to stock more than one of the cupboards. The company drop shipped directly from her orders to the customers’ homes. She had to do what she could with limited space and an ever-questing market of gardeners looking for new products. The cupboards would be functional and enhance the beauty of the yard as well.

Selena came in at noon. Her morning exams didn’t go well. She looked like a little girl who was denied a toy. “Dammit, Peggy!” She slammed her book bag on the counter after seeing there was no one else in the shop. “I did a good job on those essays! Professor Martin hates me. I don’t know why, but he’s got it in for me.”

“From the other side of the aisle,” Peggy rebutted, “maybe he thinks you could do better. Have you talked with him?”

“If you’re going to get someone to work harder, giving them a bad grade isn’t much incentive. Now I feel like coasting through the rest of the year. I’ve tried hard in that class. What’s the point if nothing I do is good enough?”

“You should definitely talk to him, Selena,” Peggy advised, picking up her jacket and book bag. “I hate to have to run, but I have that appointment with the dog trainer this afternoon. Talk to Professor Martin. Ask him what the problem is.”

Selena pushed her book bag behind the counter and plopped down on the rocking chair. “I know what his problem is. He’s an arrogant idiot. He’s so full of himself he can’t see past the end of his nose. And he’s got a really big nose, so he’s probably been that way all of his life! I can’t stand him. No one can.”

Peggy laughed. “Thinking about him that way won’t help. I should be back by four. Maybe you can take off early and go see him. Work something out. I’ll talk to you later. We’ve been a little busy in the last hour.

“I get the idea.” Selena tied on her green Potting Shed apron. “I think you might be seeing this as a professor instead of my friend. Maybe by the time you come back, you could try to be more receptive to my whining.”

“I’ll do the best I can, sweetie. Take care.” Peggy ignored the rumbling in her stomach as she smelled the delicious aromas coming from Anthony’s Caribbean Cafe. She raced home on her bike, grateful for the dry streets under the warm February sun. It was a good day for Sam and Keeley, too. It could be difficult to schedule planting days in the winter between the cold and the rain, but the landscaping business was an important aspect of what the Potting Shed did to survive.

She picked up her mail and let herself in the house. Shakespeare was barking and howling, throwing himself against the door in the pantry. But at least everything else in the house was the way she left it that morning. Measuring his discomfort against her own seemed unfair, but she had to survive, too.

Peggy hoped to have some message from Mai when she got home, even though she knew Mai had her cell phone number and the number at the shop. She’d call if anything came up. Obviously, there were no updates on the honey. Of course, for all she knew, the ME could decide it wasn’t important enough to bring up the investigation again. She didn’t always understand the political aspect of the law. But she knew things weren’t ever black and white.

Peggy let Shakespeare out and took him for a walk. It consisted of him trying to pull her arm out of its socket. She finally called a halt to the torture as soon as he went to the bathroom in the yard. He whined and looked eagerly at the rest of the yard. “That’s not going to happen,” she told him. “Not until you learn some manners.”

She took the dog back inside. Both of them were eating lunch while she surfed the Internet for more information about any poisoning cases in the last few days. An abrupt knock on the door brought Paul in the kitchen. He was dressed for work in his tidy blue uniform. He’d recently had his hair cut and still smelled of spicy aftershave and soap from a shower.

He hugged her, then took off his jacket. “You’re trying to ruin my career in law enforcement, aren’t you? You couldn’t win arguing with me about not being on the job, so you found another way.”

She looked up from her hummus and pita sandwich. “Are you feeling all right? Would you like some lunch?”

“I’m fine. I ate a sandwich on the way over here.” He glared at her. “You know I love you, Mom. And we both know you didn’t want me on the job because of what happened to Dad. But I thought we settled this thing between us. If you still don’t want me to wear the uniform, say so. Let’s talk it out. Don’t try to sabotage me.”

Peggy swallowed the pita in her mouth, then took a swallow of lemon tea. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about, Paul.”

“I’m talking about your new business as a private detective. Did you think I wouldn’t hear about your run-in with the lieutenant this morning? And I wish you’d leave Mai out of this. We need her income to afford the house. She can’t afford to get fired because of you!”

It was the perfect opportunity for Peggy to tackle him about the house on Mai’s behalf. But she obviously had a few strokes against her already. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate her telling him what Mai couldn’t. At least not at that moment. “What I did had nothing to do with you, Paul. I knew there wasn’t any time to explain all the details to the police or wait for them to come up with a search warrant on my information. I did the best I could to help Park.”

“How many times are you going to put your life on the line to help people? You aren’t trained to search for evidence. You could’ve been hurt out there at the landfill.” He sighed and played with the small, silver saltshaker on the wood table. “Don’t worry. I know about you and the lieutenant. Mai gave me all the details. But he doesn’t know about the ME wanting to reopen the investigation because of the honey you found. Yet. He’s not gonna like it when he finds out.”

“He does?”