Poisoned Petals

downstairs for her. She could always check her messages when she got back.

The computer beeped again. She walked back to it. Surely it wouldn’t take that long. She sat down in the chair at her desk and checked her email.

It was Nightflyer. I thought you’d be back in touch with me by now for more information about your friend.

I would. Normally. But there’s been nothing normal about the past few days.

I can help. I have some information that might lead the police to a better suspect than Darmus.

You can send it to me, and I’ll take it to them.

It might be better if I try something different.

Why? Are you afraid I might go after the killer myself?

There’s more to it than that, Nightrose. I’d like to arrange a meeting.

Peggy sat back in her chair. He’d refused to meet with her before. Why now? Why is this different than the other times?

Because there are some other things you should know. I don’t want to tell you those things in an email.

What are you talking about? Her fingers flew across the keyboard. What things should I know?

I’ll meet you at Myers Park. Be there Tuesday night at midnight.

Wait a minute. You can’t keep me hanging until Tuesday. And decent people don’t hang around Myers Park at night. Can’t we have lunch somewhere?

But he was gone. She tried several times to IM him, but there was no response. Frustrated, she hit the side of the computer with the flat of her hand.

Almost immediately, a knock on her door followed. “Are you okay in there, Margaret?” Her father’s voice sounded strangely subdued.

She opened the door and called for Shakespeare, who was still lounging on her bed. “I’m fine. Just swatting at a fly.”

“Are you almost ready to go? If your mother has to wait around much longer, she’s likely to want to go shopping with Aunt Mayfield instead of to the garden. I don’t think my credit card can stand that.”

Peggy grabbed her matching peacock-blue hat and smiled at her father. Anger and frustration brewed beneath the curve of her lips, but she bit the emotions back. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Paul joined them before they could get out the front door. “Mind if I tag along?”

“Of course not!” his grandmother exclaimed, giving him a hug. “That would be wonderful!”

Since Aunt Mayfield and Cousin Melvin had decided to excuse themselves from the outing, the group was able to fit in Lilla and Ranson’s old Buick. They talked about the area, antiques, and animals. Peggy rode in the shotgun seat and told her father where to turn. The conversation eventually turned to Darmus and Luther and the scene at the funeral home yesterday.

“What makes the police think your friend’s brother was killed in the first place? Sounds to me like he died of natural causes,” Ranson remarked.

“I told them about the hyacinth I found in Luther’s pocket when I heard he died from a massive asthma attack,” Peggy answered.

“You stirred up a hornet’s nest,” her mother said.

“Okay,” Ranson agreed. “But did they think he might have been murdered before you told them that?”

“I don’t think they did.”

“I’m sure the only reason they’re considering it now are the circumstances,” Paul filled in. “Darmus and his brother faked his death. Then Luther turns up dead after a large block of money is given to Feed America. It’s pretty suspicious.”

Peggy’s father shook his head. “Let the poor man lie in peace. He’s gone now. Seems like that’s enough.”

“Only he didn’t want to be gone. Someone took that choice away from him,” Peggy replied. “He had whatever was left of his life in front of him. I had some disagreements with Luther, but he didn’t deserve to die.”

“I don’t see how the police will ever find out who gave him that flower,” her mother added. “It could have been anyone, couldn’t it?”

“That’s the problem a lot of times,” Paul explained. “But they’ll keep going over the evidence until something unusual turns up. The bad guy only gets to do the crime once. But we can go over everything for as long as we want to.”

Peggy thought about his words and about what Nightflyer said in his e-mail. She wondered what he had to say to her that required a face-to-face meeting. She definitely wouldn’t mention it to anyone else. They’d all be skulking in the shrubbery at the park.

But she was excited at the prospect of meeting him. She was sure he wanted to help when he could. He didn’t always tell her everything, which infuriated her, but he’d helped her with other situations when she couldn’t find answers. She wasn’t sure if she trusted him exactly, but he’d never done anything to make her think he would hurt her.

They finally reached Daniel Stowe Botanical Garden about an hour later. It would have been quicker if they