Mai didn’t touch the plastic bag, just looked at it. “You know, even if we find the same pollen in this honey, we won’t be able to use it as evidence. Anything could’ve been added or tampered with other ways.”
“I understand the chain of evidence.” Peggy’s green eyes were thoughtful. “But if the enzymes you found in Park’s body match the enzymes in the honey he got from the hotel, it might give you something to work with that you can use as evidence.”
“This could bring forward a case against his wife.” Mai didn’t shrink from telling her the truth. “She had opportunity, since the honey was at home with him. She had motive, ten million dollars’ worth of motive. You could be opening up a big can of worms with this jar.”
Peggy sighed and looked at the jar. “I know.”
Mai put on surgical gloves. “Okay. Let’s get started.”
11
Sassafras
Botanicaclass="underline" Sassafras albidum
Family: N. O. Lauraceae
Sassafras was used by Native Americans for infections and gastrointestinal problems. It was one of the first exports from the New World as a beverage and medicine, the originator of the term “root beer.”
“IT’S DEFINITELY HORSE CHESTNUT honey.” Mai looked at the two samples under the microscope. “And it matches the pollen we found in Mr. Lamonte. Is there anything else you can tell me about it?”
Peggy sighed. It was a bittersweet victory for her since there was no way of knowing how it would affect Beth. “The horse chestnut tree is so poisonous, it will kill the bees that harvest the pollen for the honey. But you know how persistent bees are. They keep going, passing it on to the next workers, all the while eventually killing the hive.”
“My poison chart tells me these trees only grow in California.” Mai took off her glasses. “This honey came from Pennsylvania.”
“Your poison chart is partially correct,” Peggy agreed. “But the trees also grow in Ohio and a few other states. The horse chestnut is actually in the same family as our own native buckeye. So the honey could be harvested in a good many places. But no respectable honey grower would allow that tree near their bees.”
“I suppose the question then would be who put the poisoned honey in the jar. Was it an accident or something done on purpose?”
“We should contact this producer, Elmwood Farms, and see what they know about it. There may be other tainted jars.”
Mai nodded. “I’ll run this by the ME and see what he thinks. I hope you realize that if this is the only jar, the problem is going to fall in Mrs. Lamonte’s lap again.”
Peggy understood that possibility and hoped it was just a bad batch of honey, as tragic as that would be. “Have you heard anything about Isabelle’s autopsy?”
“Not yet. I’m sure that will be another factor.” Mai shrugged. “If her death is ruled an accident, the daughter-in-law will be less attractive for a case about the husband.”
“Thanks, Mai. Please keep me posted.”
Mai squeezed her hand. “I will. You did the right thing. I know it had to be hard for you.”
“Let’s hope for the best, shall we?” Peggy gathered her book bag and coat. She was almost out the door when she ran into Jonas.
He stepped back out of the way for her to leave Mai’s office. Then he recognized her. “Please tell me you aren’t here to help with anything.” He sneezed and blew his nose on a handkerchief.
“I told you all those bottled-up emotions would give you a cold! I’m here to visit Mai,” she maintained. “You act like I wasn’t a big help solving the Warner case. You know, you could use a forensic botanist on staff.”
He sneezed a few times, then laughed. “We don’t have a budget for anything right now, Peggy. I’m not sure what a forensic botanist does, but I’ll let you know if the position becomes available. As for the Warner case, that was dumb luck and being in the right place at the wrong time. I hope you realize you were lucky you weren’t killed.”
“I hope you realize you’d have the wrong person in jail right now if it weren’t for me,” she scolded, not caring about the interested onlookers in the hall. “And a forensic botanist can do many things for a police department, including help catch people who use poison to murder people.”
“I realize I could’ve had another dead body to add to my homicide file if you weren’t so lucky!” he said in a nasal voice, then glanced at Mai, who looked away. “And if I hear of anyone from this department helping you, he or she will face suspension. Amateurs don’t belong in this business! We’re the police, not some Girl Scout group looking to earn merit badges!
“I’m sure he or she is quaking.” Peggy moved smoothly past him. “You need to relax, Jonas. You’re not doing a bit of good for your stomach, you know. You have to watch that!”
“Look. I like you, Peggy. I really do. You’re a good person, and I know you mean well. But this isn’t the place for a good person to help out. Try the Salvation Army or the Red Cross.”
Before she could speak, Jonas slammed the door to Mai’s office with her on the outside. She could hear him questioning the girl from the hall. It wouldn’t do him any good. The deed was already done. She knew Mai wouldn’t knuckle under to him. Really, he could be such a tyrant!
Peggy unlocked her bike from the rack outside after an unproductive discussion about the state of the plants in the precinct building with the desk sergeant. Why have plants at all if no one wanted to care for them? The sergeant was unsure why the ficus was there, but he didn’t plan on watering it. He told her he’d be happy to set it out on the street, if that would make her happy. She left before she did any more damage.
Charlotte streets were picking up traffic as the brilliant blue sky beamed down on them. The smells of the city—bus diesel, coffee, garbage, and rubber from a hastily applied brake—assailed her. She was glad to finally reach the Potting Shed and shut herself inside with the aroma of potting soil and old wood. It would be wonderful to lose herself in her plants for a while and not think about death and dying. Plants were the ultimate faith in life. When she planted a small sprout and watched it grow, she knew she was adding to the chain of life.
An order of Hoop’s blue spruce and Gold Mop thread cypress arrived as soon as she got her coat off and started getting set up for what she hoped would be a busy workday. She signed the delivery sheet for the driver, then got to work moving the two-foot trees into the back storage area.
All twenty of the trees were on back order from a company in the North Carolina mountains. They were hearty, beautiful trees that would provide their owners with years of enjoyment. The blue spruce wouldn’t grow as big here as in a cooler climate, but it would still be a nice ornamental. With its milky blue needles and conelike shape, it would enhance any yard.
Sam came in about twenty minutes later, amazed to find all the trees tucked away and Peggy cleaning the shop in time for it to open. “You’ve been busy. You’re either angry or frantically thinking about something you can’t do anything about. Or both!”
She frowned. “You know me pretty well.” She stopped organizing the bulb rack. “I gave the honey sample to Mai. I was right. It was horse chestnut.”
“Wow! That could account for Park falling asleep at the wheel, right?”
“It could. Drowsiness is one of the side effects. If he’d eaten enough in a short span of time, he wouldn’t have had to drive his car off the ramp to die. It can be very toxic to humans.”