Peggy told him what she knew about Holles, including his visit to her and the cottonseeds she’d found. “I think he may be involved.”
“That’s ridiculous! Holles isn’t a killer!” Sam exclaimed. “Just because there are cottonseeds around doesn’t mean anything. I know he’s ambitious, but that doesn’t make him a killer.”
“I agree,” Peggy said. “But there are the other things as well.”
“He sounds a little dangerous to me,” Denise added.
They all turned to look at her. She smiled and blushed before turning back to look for the best place for her statue.
“Anyway,” Sam began again, “Holles isn’t guilty of anything. Let’s move on to the next suspect.”
“Do we know the identify of the dead man Darmus and Luther used to fake Darmus’s death?” Hunter spat grass out of her mouth as she threw a shovelful of dirt into the air by accident.
“Yes,” Peggy said. “Why? Do you think he could be part of the equation?”
“I know Luther says that man didn’t have a family or anything. But what if he did have a family, and they’re getting revenge on Darmus?”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sam criticized.
Hunter glared at him. “I agree. I think your
Peggy stepped between the brother and sister. “Okay, you two! This won’t get us anywhere.”
“Neither will blaming Holles for this. He’s a little driven, Peggy. But no more than Hunter.” Sam dropped the last gardenia into the ground at his feet. “We don’t think
“Maybe I’ll leave now.” Hunter got up off the grassy slope. “It was nice until
“Good,” Sam said. “Anything to keep you and the extra dirt out of our hair.”
When Hunter was gone, Sam started shoveling dirt in to cover the root balls on the rosebush Steve had just planted. “You don’t really think Holles had anything to do with what happened to Luther, do you?”
“I don’t know,” Peggy admitted. “And maybe Hunter had the right idea. Maybe what happened has nothing to do with Feed America. What if I’ve been looking so hard in one direction that I’ve missed the real answer?”
“But what is the real answer?” Steve questioned.
“I don’t know yet.” Peggy placed the white mother and child statue in a sunny place near the last gardenia as Denise suggested. “But it’s there. I just have to find it.”
When the garden was done, Denise thanked them all. “I’d like to do something to help you with Darmus, Peggy.”
“Thank you, but there’s not much that can be done.” When was she going to learn not to involve strangers in her quest for the truth?
“How about if I could get you into the jail to see your friend and ask him a few questions?”
Ranson smiled. “Is your husband a lawyer or a judge?”
“Not my husband.” Denise smiled and took off her gardening gloves. “I’ve been a circuit court judge for sixteen years. I think I could get you in there.”
Peggy was astounded. “Thank you. That would be great!”
“I’ll set it up and give you a call. Don’t forget to find a pretty white fountain for me.”
“I won’t,” Peggy promised. “I’ll let you know when I have one for you to look at.”
Peggy went home to shower and change. She’d promised to spend some time with her mother and Aunt Mayfield after checking in on the Potting Shed. They were going to the Mint Museum to look at a quilt display.
It was a difficult promise to keep when what she really wanted to do was spend all her time trying to find out what happened to Luther and Darmus. She kept going over it in her mind as Aunt Mayfield and her mother remarked on the green squares in one quilt and the yellow triangles in another. She was the first to admit she didn’t know much about textiles. They were gorgeous to look at, but when it came to sewing, she was all thumbs.
“Look at the color in that one, Margaret.” Aunt Mayfield nudged her when she wasn’t paying enough attention. “Have you ever seen the like?”
“It’s not as good as Maw-Maw’s,” Lilla answered. “Now
“That woman could do anything,” Aunt Mayfield agreed with a shake of her glossy brown curls.
Peggy looked at the quilt that hung on the wall in the museum. It was supposed to resemble watermelon slices, green outside, red inside, thick with black seeds. The slices were turned all different ways, connecting in a pattern that was probably difficult to make. She had a hard time just looking at it. But then she never cared much for abstract art.
The repetitive pattern made her think about other things, too. Everything was repeated in the universe. It was a scientific fact. Patterns were what made meteorology, biology, and astronomy work. They showed people what to expect in a series of seemingly random events.
There was a pattern that was happening in Darmus’s life right now. Every step was following it. It should be possible to anticipate the next step. If she could just see what the pattern was!
“Margaret?” Her mother brought her attention back to them. “Aunt Mayfield and I would love to go to that ice cream place Sam was telling us about. The one with the really thick milkshakes.”
