Poisoned Petals

“Cottonseeds!” Ramsey shouted. “They found cottonseeds and want us to match them! Like we can do that. That’s why I called you here.”

“I don’t have what you need to match that DNA.” Peggy’s brain was working overtime on what was happening. An anonymous tip? Who else knew about the cottonseeds besides Mai and Paul? And her family and Judge Turnbrell. And God knew who else. She gave up trying to figure that out.

But no one from that group would call in an anonymous tip. Given where she had just been, it was only natural that Peggy would think Rosie might have been involved with the call. But what would Rosie gain from blaming Holles? Would she set Darmus up, only to pull him back at the last minute?

Peggy closed her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. Would any of it ever make sense?

“What do you need?” Ramsey picked up a Pizza Hut menu to write on.

“Merton Dillard.”

“Is that some type of machine?” He glanced at Mai, who shrugged.

“Not exactly. He’s a geneticist for a seed company. He checks to make sure no one steals their prize seeds.”

“And he lives here in Charlotte?”

“On Central Avenue, by the library.”

“What are we waiting for?” Ramsey took out his car keys. “Let’s go!”

Merton, Dr. Merton Dillard, was the great-great-grandson of one of the signers of the Mecklenburg County Declaration of Independence that was actually penned before the national version. He lived in a small house near the old country club off Central Avenue and worked out of his basement like Peggy. He rarely went out and always wore pajamas.

“Peggy!” He greeted her with a hug, then sprayed himself with disinfectant. “Sorry. Can’t be too careful with bird flu wandering around out there. I see you brought friends.”

Peggy introduced Mai and Ramsey. Merton eyed them both suspiciously before asking, “You don’t keep live chickens, do you?”

“Of course not,” Peggy responded, a tad impatient. “Merton, I need a DNA test on a couple of seeds.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” He rubbed his hands together. “Come on down!”

Peggy had warned Mai and Ramsey that Merton might get technical about his work, but she didn’t think it would be as bad as it was.

“You know,” Merton said, preparing for the test. “Police use plant DNA to track down grain thieves, too. Yes sir! We have to be careful, you know. We make a disease-immune breed of rye, and then everyone has to have it.”

“Police use it for real crimes, too.” Ramsey stifled a yawn.

“True,” Merton agreed. “And while it might be difficult to track down an individual crop variety just by looking at the seeds, we can pinpoint exact plant traits and clearly identify seed variety with DNA.”

“There are computer analysis programs to identify the DNA fingerprint,” Peggy explained as they watched Merton work. “Specific genes carried in the seed of an individual plant can be found.”

“You have the sample?” Merton held out his gloved hand.

Mai took out two samples. “With what we had to go on, a judge issued a search warrant for Mr. Harwood’s home. We found a sample of cottonseed on one of his shoes.”

Peggy nodded. They hadn’t wasted any time on that. Surprising, since they already had Darmus in jail for the crime. And how did this fit in with what she knew about Rosie?

“I treat the sample with chemicals to extract DNA from the cells,” Merton told them as he moved through the process.

“What sort of chemicals?” Ramsey adjusted his glasses.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Merton huffed, glancing at Peggy. “Does he think I’m going to give away trade secrets?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Peggy consoled as she watched him. “He’s adding enzymes now. They promote chemical reactions that will cut the DNA into different lengths.”

Merton went up to get some tea, offering them some of his homemade brew. Peggy asked for a cup, but Ramsey and Mai shook their heads.

“I know he’s your friend, Peggy,” Mai whispered when Merton was gone, “but he’s weird.”

Peggy smiled. “Most of the people I know are weird, sweetie. Merton is a little eccentric, but he’s good at what he does.”

Ramsey nodded. “People like myself, at above genius level, are likely to be perceived as strange or odd.”

“Really?” Peggy winked at Mai. “You’ve always seemed very normal to me.”

He cleared his throat. “I assure you, I’m very weird.”

When Merton returned with their cups of tea, he placed the DNA strand fragments on a bed of gel, then applied an electrical current to them. “The current sorts the fragments and organizes them into a pattern.”

“Why is that necessary?” Mai jotted down what he did in a notebook.