“I plan to,” Beth assured her. “I’m not going to let them get away with this.”
“I wish there was something I could do to help.”
“There is!” Beth’s drastically stricken face turned hopeful as she slapped her hand on the table. “You found out what happened to the man who died in your shop last year. You have to find out what really happened to Park. Did he fall asleep? Was he ill? There has to be some way for you to prove it wasn’t suicide.”
Peggy scrambled to regroup. What could she say? She wasn’t actually volunteering. Polite phrases could get you into trouble with a desperate person. She had to be more careful what she said in the future. She smiled and tried to find a tactful way to say no. “I’m not a private investigator, Beth. I wouldn’t know where to start. Maybe you should hire someone. Maybe one of Park’s friends would have some idea.”
Beth pushed back her chair with a sudden screech on the wood floor. Her long dark hair was braided but showed signs of her sleeping on it, little dark hairs poking up through the smooth twists. Her eyes were circled with black shadows. “You were Park’s friend. He needs you now. No one else wants to do anything. No one wants to help him. They all sympathize and pat my hand, but they won’t really help. I don’t know what you did to prove who killed the man in your shop. But whatever it was, you need to do it now for Park and me. For Reddman and Foxx. Don’t let him die like this.”
Peggy was surprised by her outburst. Of course, her friend wasn’t herself. She didn’t really know what she was saying. Still, her heart twisted in pain at Beth’s words. Park was always there when she needed him. There was very little she wouldn’t have done for him in return. She wanted to help.
But this wasn’t something she could do. Mark Warner’s death at the Potting Shed was one thing. It was a fluke, a one-time event that wouldn’t happen again. “I’m sorry, Beth. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do to prove that Park didn’t commit suicide. There has to be someone better qualified than me. The appeals process is there for a reason, too. You’ll be able to get help there.”
Beth strode to the stove and threw her cup of tea into the sink. The fragrant tea splashed everywhere, showering the room with the orange herbal scent. The cup shattered in the sink, pieces crashing to the floor. “Then I guess that’s it. Park is a suicide. He killed himself because he lost a few thousand dollars. That’s what everyone will think. That’s the legacy he’ll leave his sons. He deserves better.”
Peggy’s hands were shaking as she got up from the chair. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something else I could do. Something I’m qualified to do.”
“So do I.”
It seemed so final, so devastating. Peggy felt she should leave. There was nothing more to say. In time, Beth would understand. The pain and rage would fade. Their friendship was strong enough to handle this. “Let me know if I can help with anything else.”
“I will,” Beth promised in a whisper, but she didn’t look at her. “I’m sorry, Peggy. I don’t know what I’m thinking right now.”
“I know. I’ll give you a call later.”
Peggy was numb as she got in the taxi to go to the shop. She supposed she could understand Beth’s desperation. How would she have felt if John had been accused of committing suicide? She wanted to help. But what she did after Mark Warner was killed in her shop was purely dumb luck. She didn’t think she could do it again if she tried. Besides, that was different. Maybe Park didn’t kill himself. She didn’t believe he did. But this wasn’t a murder. There were no real answers to find.
Fortunately, shop traffic was light that morning. It gave her time to think about everything that had happened. She couldn’t close her eyes without seeing Park’s car going over the edge of the ramp. Sometimes the sheer horror of it made her physically ill. She knew it would pass in time. At least Beth didn’t have to deal with that part.
The weather cleared as it neared lunchtime. Workers in the downtown buildings spilled out into the sunlight like little seedlings turning toward the warmth. A break in the weather was always good for business.
Latta Arcade swelled with people who spilled out into Brevard Court behind it. The sun was magnified inside the restored 1915 shopping area by the high skylight roof used originally for the grading of cotton. Now filled with shops and restaurants, it was natural to extend the area to include the outdoor courtyard.
The Potting Shed, an urban gardener’s paradise, was set on the corner of the courtyard across from the Kozy Kettle Tea and Coffee Emporium and beside Anthony’s Caribbean Café. Office managers in stiletto heels and Ann Taylor suits browsed through catalogs and ordered faux antique garden implements, seeds, and even professional help in setting up their gardens. It was the only store of its kind in uptown Charlotte.
Peggy was grateful for the patronage of the workers as well as the contracts she received to care for plants in the office buildings they worked in. The Potting Shed also did special orders for parties as well as outdoor landscaping. It kept everyone who worked for her busy. She wished John could’ve seen it.
But at least he’d seen his son grow to manhood. A luxury Park was denied.
Guilt gnawed at her. She knew there wasn’t anything she could do to help Park’s family. It didn’t keep her from wanting to help. She thought about it while she waited on customers and straightened shelves. Beth was right, of course. The so-called investigation was stingy. How could they possibly know what happened on the ramp that morning so quickly?
Keeley Prinz, the daughter of Peggy’s best friend, Lenore, came in to work early. A tall, dark, and handsome combination of Lenore and her husband, Keeley was as nice as she was gorgeous. When Peggy explained what happened, the younger woman was outraged. “I can’t believe she asked you that! What was she thinking? What were you supposed to do?”
Peggy rang up the sale for the Helleborus mix Keeley was boxing up. Also known as the Lenten rose, it was good for adding color to the late winter and early spring landscape. “It was hard knowing what to say. Of course, I wanted to help her. But I wouldn’t know where to start.”
The customer, a new member of the growing uptown condo dwellers, took in their words and waited for an opening. “Peggy? You said these will flower in the shade, too, right? Because I have a shaded area underneath the eaves on my balcony where I need some color.”
“No problem.” Peggy smiled at her. “These little plants are hearty, and they like the shade as well as the sun. They should bloom for you. If they don’t, let me know, and I’ll come by and take a look at them.”
“Thanks.” She knitted her brow as she put her hand on her hip. “And Keeley’s right. Your friend may be grieving, but she had no right to ask you to go through that again. You aren’t a police officer or a private detective. I’m sure she’ll come to see that later.”
Peggy glanced at Keeley. That’s what she got for discussing her private matters in public. At least she hadn’t mentioned Beth’s name. “Thanks. You’re right.”
“Damn straight. You take care of all of us here. We don’t need you traipsing around solving murders all over the place. You’re our plant lady. Everyone calls you that.”
Plant lady. There were worse names. Peggy thanked her again but didn’t tell her it wasn’t another murder. The woman, she didn’t even know her name because she’d only been in a few times and paid cash for her purchases, didn’t need any more information. She could just see the headlines in the Charlotte Observer: “Plant Lady Solves Suicide.” The police would love that!