“Peggy!” He rolled to his big feet as he shook his head. “I can’t get those for you. They haven’t been released for public record yet.”
“Could you at least find out what Luther died from? Holles Harwood was Darmus’s
He looked at his cell phone that was buzzing loudly. “I’ll check into what killed Darmus and Luther. But that’s
“Thanks, Al.”
“Have you thought any more about the ME’s offer to hire you on contract? I know it would only be as needed, but since you’re thinking about giving up your job at Queens, I thought you might want to consider it.”
Peggy wasn’t sure what to say. The unexpected job offer to work as a contract forensic botanist for the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department was still rolling around in her head. “I’m still thinking about it. But right now, the Potting Shed is pretty busy. I have to keep up with it. And I’m not sure if I like the idea of working with dead bodies. It seems a little strange for a botanist who deals with life to help the police sort out facts about dead people.”
Al looked skeptical. “You seem to like to do that fairly well on your own! Anyway, think about it. I’ll talk to you later. Say hello to your parents for me.”
“I will.”
“I’ll let you know when I find out what the ME listed as COD for both brothers.”
“I appreciate it. Are you going to Darmus’s memorial service?”
He hugged her in his massive arms. “I wouldn’t miss it. Want to drive over with me and Mary?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“And Peggy? Stay out of trouble, huh?”
When Al was gone, Peggy walked through the store, straightening shelves that didn’t need straightening, wondering where Steve was with her parents. She’d expected them to be back sooner. She was reluctant to call him and find out. Instead she pictured all kinds of things going wrong, like her mother walking down Concord Mills Boulevard with a bag of Off Broadway shoes under her arm because she got mad at Steve and refused to get into his car.
She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous about her parents spending time with Steve. He was a great guy. They couldn’t find fault with him.
She wasn’t sure where that voice came from, but it had been with her since she was small. It made her turn herself in when she was the one who painted a mustache on the Confederate Soldier Memorial, and it kept telling her that her skirt was too short the night of her first date with John.
She suspected her mother had it grafted to her brain when she was born to keep her on the right path. But she also thought it would have been gone by now. How old did she have to be before it faded away?
It turned out to be fortunate for her that Steve and her parents were late when the owners of a luxury uptown condominium complex came in to discuss whether the Potting Shed could take care of their atrium and garden areas.
These condominium dwellers, some of them living in million-dollar condos, were what kept the Potting Shed alive. They were the new lifeblood of Charlotte’s design to build up the inner city. Well-heeled businesspeople who called the banking district home from nine to five now found new, high-rise perches to entertain and view the lights of the fast-growing city around them.
Peggy was glad to oblige the new owners. Doubtless, she’d be able to sell some plants and garden supplies to their tenants for their balconies and interiors while she was at it. Every week, there were new signs that went up around Charlotte announcing. ANOTHER POTTING SHED PROJECT and marking another spot they were maintaining and beautifying.
The new projects should have made her more confident about the idea of leaving her job at Queens. And sometimes they did. Still, it was hard to know what to do.
It was the same thing with Darmus. She wanted to come right out and tell Al that the man in the coffin wasn’t Darmus. And she’d do that before she let the poor stranger be buried as someone else. There were so many things to take into consideration.
But it was easy to know what to do with the new condominium contract. She had the deal signed
She glanced at her watch. It was almost six thirty. Traffic was always slow this time of day. It was easy to start brooding. She couldn’t imagine a worse time for her relatives to visit her. The store was busy. She had questions about Luther’s death. Darmus was alive somewhere. She had to find him before the police started looking for him.
She needed some time and space to think about whether or not she should give up her place at Queens. But time would be at a premium for the next two weeks. After Italian food tonight, it would be an all-night gabfest with Paul. Every day and night was filled for the time her parents were there. She’d wanted to be sure they were entertained. There was no way to know all this would be going on when she made her plans.
The phone rang a little after seven. It was Al calling her with information about Darmus and Luther. “I’m looking at Darmus’s death certificate. The official cause of death was liver failure, Peggy. The ME says he had advanced liver disease. There was no smoke in his lungs. He was probably dead before the explosion. Maybe even for an hour or two, and that’s why he felt cold to you. There’s no mystery.”
“Except for the explosion. If he was dead for an hour or two, how could he have been the one to cause it?”
“The ME’s theory is that he slumped over the stove while he was trying to light it. The gas was leaking. A spark ignited it. It could have been a hundred different things that caused that spark. Anyway, Darmus’s death was from natural causes. He died because it was his time to die.”
