“You try to get some sleep, too, Daddy.”
“You know I always grab a few hours. Don’t fret, Margaret Anne.”
PEGGY WAS GLAD she rode her bike the next morning. She loved Charlotte on days like this when light wisps of fog and mist clung to the trees, obscuring the tall buildings uptown, and steeples reached up into the pale blue sky, fingering the clouds.
It would be hot later, but the morning was still cool as she passed Providence Hardware and waved to Mr. Patterson, who was out for his morning jog. Dr. Yin, a prominent neurosurgeon at Mecklenburg Neurology, was out picking up trash along the road with his stick device. Sweat glistened on his bald pate as he mumbled to himself.
Charlotte had changed drastically since John Lee brought her there as his bride thirty years ago. The cloistered, narrow feeling from too many generations living and dying without enough outside interference was gone. People had moved in from all over the world. They brought their problems with them. But they also brought new life to the city.
Being raised in Charleston, a port town, Peggy found Charlotte stifling to begin with. She was used to the banter of many languages and the jumble of different customs that surrounded the old coastal city. Charlotte had strict traditions but nothing to soften them.
That changed as time went on, and Peggy was glad for it. John said it created difficulties for the police department. She knew having students from different countries who spoke different languages created problems for the college. But those new students helped them become an accredited university. Peggy was proud of her work there. But she might be ready to try something new.
She went inside the shop through the back door, determined not to let the previous little incident with Holles in the alley make her afraid, though she kept a careful eye out as she went up the stairs. She put her backpack down on the counter. The creaky wood floors and the whoosh of the air-conditioning were soothing. She looked at John’s dear, smiling face in the picture by the front door and smoothed a finger across it. “I miss you,” she whispered as she kissed him.
She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes as she put the picture back in its place. “Enough of that, Margaret Anne! Let’s get to work!”
She walked past the fifty-and hundred-pound bags of potting soil and fertilizer that were stored in the back of the Potting Shed. Automatically, she noticed they were running low on peat moss and pine bark. But before she could take out a pen to write it down, she saw a note from Sam telling her about it. She smiled. What would she do without him?
She lost track of time stocking the shelves and straightening things up. She always did. The potted roses by the front door needed watering, and the dwarf azaleas needed looking after. There was new stock to order and receipts to total.
Of course, she couldn’t help but consider Darmus’s plight at the same time. The police blamed him for his brother’s death. She still felt that was a mistake. Darmus loved Luther. He’d never kill him. Not for Feed America or anything else. Not even if he was half out of his mind.
She could understand the DA wanting to arrest him to get something going on the case. But what would they say the motive was? Luther knew Darmus was alive, but so did other people, like Holles. Luther would have access to the money they were concerned about, but so would Holles, since he’d taken over from Luther. It wasn’t like Darmus could come out in the open and take his place again.
Yet only someone who knew Luther well would know about his serious asthma problem. That was one thing about using any fatal poison. It was important for the killer to know his or her victim. Not every poison would work on every person. But it would also take some botanical research to know asthma could be fatally triggered by a hyacinth. Furthermore, Luther always carried an inhaler in his pocket, so using hyacinth was something of a gamble.
Peggy believed Holles was the most likely suspect at the moment. He knew about the money and where Darmus was. He probably knew about Luther’s asthma. And he certainly hadn’t wanted her to reveal that Darmus was alive.
Peggy left to talk to her weekly garden club as soon as Selena arrived. The garden club met at the Kozy Kettle, where Emil and Sofia sold them coffee, tea, and pastries as they talked.
“This morning’s subject is planting a tree.” She addressed the usual crowd of twelve women who attended the meeting almost every week. One of the husbands, Marvin Whitley, sat beside his wife with an expression on his face that could only be called complete agony.
Peggy took out her clear bucket and put it on the table. “The first thing you should do is consider your yard. A tree needs room to grow. Think about the height it will eventually reach. For instance, a dogwood won’t get as tall as an oak. Make sure you aren’t setting yourself up to cut down your tree when it matures.”
“How close can I plant a tree to my house?” Jane Matthews asked.
“Give the roots enough room to grow without them invading your basement,” Peggy answered. “At least ten feet, depending on the tree. I brought a weeping peach tree with me this morning.”
There were murmurs of how cute the tiny tree was with its cascading branches and delicate pink flowers.
“Dig a hole at least double the size of your root.” Peggy used her spade in the bucket to make a place for her sapling. “Take the tree carefully out of the container or sack it comes in. Then place it in the hole you dug and cover it with dirt. Be sure to pack the dirt down well around it.”
“What about fertilizer?” one of the women asked.
“I recommend fertilizer spikes.” Peggy held up a package of fertilizer. “Pound a few into the ground around the roots. You’ll have to read the directions to know what’s right for your tree.”
This was followed by a flurry of questions about trees in general. Emil brought Peggy some peach tea while she talked. She smiled at him and answered the next question.
Janice Whitley could hardly wait for the meeting to be over. She rushed up, leaving her husband behind. “Peggy, you won’t believe what I just heard! They’re opening up a Smith & Hawken store across the street in the Atrium!”
