Poisoned Petals

The church member was dying. He was a black man about the same size as Darmus. Luther even knew their blood types were the same since he had access to the man’s medical records. It was perfect.

It became a Godsend for us, Peggy. We had exactly what we needed.

When the man finally died, Luther called Darmus, and they set up the rest of it. They put the dead man into Darmus’s house, and opened a gas line by shaking the stove to make it appear real. It was Darmus’s idea, according to Luther, to put the man close to the stove so his fingerprints and face wouldn’t be identified.

But it was Luther who changed the dental records so the dead man’s records were in Darmus’s file. He didn’t say how he did it, but Peggy supposed money was involved.

I want to confess these things to you for two reasons. One is to clear my own conscience and hope for salvation. The next is to help Darmus, who is alone and needs your help.

He had Naomi bring the letter to Peggy because Darmus was out there and might need a contact. Luther urged Darmus to turn himself in, assuming he was already dead and wouldn’t be hurt by the exposure.

What we did was wrong and can never be made truly right. But we should try to do what we can. Albert Jackson should not rest in a grave with the wrong name.

Peggy truly wished Luther had thought of that before he and Darmus did this crazy thing. She could hardly imagine one grown man doing this. But two of them actually accomplishing it was preposterous.

Half an hour later, she walked with Naomi to the front door and watched her walk away through the courtyard. She’d managed to get the young woman’s phone number at the church. From what she’d seen of the letter, she might need it.

She’d comforted Naomi the best she could. It was never easy to learn your idol had feet of clay. It would take much longer for her to deal with the truth.

She planned on telling Darmus to turn himself in to the police, too, if she could find him. Maybe they would go easier on him. He had to know Luther was dead if he was still in Charlotte. Did he know of Luther’s plan to give her the information if something happened to him?

She was pretty sure the cell phone number was a link to Darmus, but there was no answer when she used it. She ended up leaving a message, telling him to meet her at the address in the envelope on Stonewall Street. She doubted he’d come.

In short, Darmus was in the worst possible trouble. She’d lived long enough with a police detective to know what Al would think. The autopsy result of a diseased liver would help him somewhat. At least they couldn’t accuse him of killing Albert Jackson. Luther’s letter would back him up on that.

But Darmus was still involved with perpetrating a fraud and probably violating several other laws and regulations by moving a dead body and changing dental records. It would all fall squarely on his thin shoulders when they found him.

The only thing she knew to do was to go to the address on Stonewall Street and look for Darmus. If she could convince him to turn himself in, it would be easier for him. If not, she would have to consider doing what her conscience told her was right for Albert Jackson, no matter what the personal cost to Darmus.

Peggy went home but planned to sneak out of the house later that night. She didn’t want to take her family with her, especially when she found out the address in the envelope was a nightclub.

Paul was working, thank goodness, so she didn’t have to explain her plan to find Darmus to him. He shouldn’t have to compromise his integrity because she had an idea about finding her friend. She didn’t know what he would do anyway. He might decide he had to turn Darmus in before she could talk to him. She was thankful she didn’t have to take that chance.

But when she explained she had to go out again after having coffee at Steve’s house, Aunt Mayfield, Cousin Melvin, Sam, and Steve all wanted to go with her.

“What will you do while I’m looking for Darmus?” she asked her relatives. She realized Steve and Sam could be useful, since they knew what Darmus looked like.

“We’ll just sit back and enjoy ourselves.” Her father nudged her mother. “We haven’t been in a nightclub for years, eh, Mama?”

“We don’t want to sit here and watch television.” Her mother got her pocketbook as though that settled the matter. “You don’t have many chores to do around here compared to the farm. And we did come here to visit with you, Margaret!”

“Sweet pea, you should try to slow down,” her father added. “You’d make the Energizer Bunny tired!”

“You’ll wear yourself out,” Cousin Melvin offered with a yawn.

“It will make you old before your time,” Aunt Mayfield chipped in.

“All right!” Peggy gave in. “You can come with me! But you’ll have to sit at a table and enjoy the music. You can’t help me look for Darmus. Too many of us could scare him away.”