A Corpse for Yew Page 14

“Even so”—Geneva ignored her—“I think Grace is right. We should bury them with Lois.”

  The group slowly got to their feet and took turns thanking Peggy for her help. “I didn’t really do anything,” she protested. “I’m sorry about Lois. I know she’ll be missed.”

  Lilla hung around until the rest of the group had wandered away through the courtyard. “I’m sorry, Margaret. I didn’t mean to give things away. It just sort of came out as we were talking this morning.”

  “That’s okay, Mom. They would’ve found out anyway. It was my fault for saying something I had no business saying.”

  Her mother smiled. “This group seemed very simple, but it’s really very complex. You wouldn’t believe the rivalry between all the history groups around here to decide whose ancestors are oldest or better in some way. Back home, it was simple. If you had the right family name, your ancestors were best.”

  Peggy laughed. “Don’t worry, Mom. You’ll fit in here, too. That Cranshaw name will open some doors. How many people have you met whose ancestor was one of the first to settle in this country in the 1600s? I think you might be in line for another sash and plaque.”

  “You’re right, of course.” Lilla hugged her. “We’re going out tomorrow morning to locate the grave of a Revolutionary War captain, which was recently brought to our attention. Would you like to come?”

  “I don’t think so. Thanks for offering. Give my love to Dad.”

  Peggy was shaking her head as she walked back toward the Potting Shed and her mother continued out of the courtyard to her car. Their relationship had never been easy, but it had been more than thirty years since they’d lived in the same town. Somehow she had to find a way to survive her parents being in Charlotte. Steve was right. She was going to have to work around her Southern principles to get their attention and respect for her life.

  Her cell phone rang. It was Mai. “I thought you might like to take a look at the ring we found now that it’s all cleaned up. We’re handing it over to the history museum, since we put the Mullis case to bed.”

  “I’d like to see it,” Peggy answered. “Have you released Lois’s body yet?”

  “This morning. Chief Mullis was here to make sure it all went smoothly.”

  “I’ll be over in a few minutes.” Peggy closed her cell phone and went in the Potting Shed to talk to Selena. “I’m going to be gone awhile, but I’ll be back to close up.”

  “Famous last words.” Selena smirked without looking up from her book. “How did it go with the black crows?”

  “They’re in mourning for their friend. In the South it’s always been traditional to go into deep mourning for at least the first month. That used to mean you couldn’t leave your house and every window had to be covered in black. Your bedsheets were black, too, and all the mirrors had to be covered.”

  Selena looked up at her. “You’re kidding, right? How did they survive?”

  “The same way people survived everything else. You do what you have to do. See you later.” Peggy left with a smile after catching Selena’s attention with her historical point of view. Of course, mourning hadn’t been that way for a really long time. She doubted most young people could survive the routine of death as it had been more than a hundred years ago.

  She unlocked her bike and rode down an alley to get into Tryon Street traffic since there was construction on College Street. Unfortunately, there was construction on Tryon Street as well. She wondered if road crews ever considered working on roads that weren’t dependent on each other. Surely there were other parts of the city that needed work to be done.

  Her cell phone rang again, but it was all she could do to negotiate between the cars, the workers, and the large holes they seemed intent on creating. She didn’t stop until she cut down Trade Street, going toward Church Street. She got some nasty looks from drivers who wished they could do the same. One thing a bicycle was good for in Charlotte was getting out of traffic jams.

  She pulled into the ME’s parking lot and checked her phone. Steve had left a message saying he was going to be done early with the horses and wanted to take her someplace nice for supper. He planned to pick her up at six if she was going to be home by then.

  She tried to call him back, but he must’ve been in a dead zone with no cell reception. It wasn’t unusual outside the city. Some small towns still had very little reception. She left him a return message to let him know she expected to be dressed and ready by six.

  Peggy locked her bike and thought about Steve. They had come so far, so fast, in the last year. She’d gone from believing she’d always be alone after John’s death to sneaking Steve in and out of her house after he’d spent the night. Now she was asking herself if they’d moved too fast.

  She had no doubt Steve was a good man. She’d known that right away. But the devil was in the details, it always was. There was a lot she didn’t know about him. Because he spent so much time living in her life with her friends and family, he knew everything about her. It made her feel suddenly . . . uneasy.

  Maybe it was stupid, but she was in an awkward position with him. Snooping through his personal possessions was like a wake-up call. She needed to slow the momentum of their relationship in order to reevaluate it. It felt like it was now or never to ask important questions she’d somehow forgotten to ask in the hasty jumble that had become her life.

  With her acceptable plan in place, Peggy went inside and greeted the security guard at the front desk. She signed in, and he waved her on to the lab.

  She saw Mai talking with Harold and waited for them to go their separate ways before she approached the girl. “I hope everything is back on an even keel with you and Harold now.”

  “As even as it ever gets with us.” Mai pushed the strands of her silky, fine black hair from her face. “At least I know what it’s like to be the head honcho now. And I’m not ready for it. I hope Dr. Ramsey stays on a while longer.”

  “You did fine! I’m sure Harold couldn’t have done any better himself.”

  “Would you like to make a small wager on that, Dr. Lee?” Harold had sneaked up behind her, and stood rocking on his heels as he spoke.

  “I’d be happy to,” Peggy replied. “It was a difficult situation. You know Mai did the right things, the things you would’ve done. You might as well admit it. She does a good job.”

  Dr. Ramsey sniffed dismissively. “I’d give her a B-minus on her performance. I was called home early from a conference because she couldn’t communicate with Chief Mullis. The job of a medical examiner is to work with the rest of the police department. We are not an island, Dr. Lee.”

  “And you are the biggest blowhard I’ve ever met.” Peggy turned away from him. “I’m ready to look at the ring now, Mai.”

  “I’m sure you would’ve handled it differently,” he taunted her as the two women walked away. “I suppose you would’ve accused Chief Mullis of killing his aunt. Yes, that would be brilliant, Dr. Lee.”

  “I’m ignoring you,” Peggy yelled back at him, then whispered to Mai, “That man never changes.”

  “Now that I know he has to take the heat for everything we do in the lab, I feel a little more respect for him,” Mai admitted. “Not a lot. And I still want his job. Just not right now. I’m missing something I hope to gain as I go along.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I’m not sure.” Mai shrugged. “I’ll let you know when I find it.”

  Peggy watched as Mai took an evidence bag out of a drawer. The ring that had been so encrusted with mud was clean and shining. “It’s beautiful!”

  “I got a jeweler friend of mine to clean it up once we knew it wasn’t evidence. He did a good job.” Mai took the ring out of the bag and handed it to Peggy. “He said this is an old ring. He could tell by the quality of the stone and the gold. I’m not sure what the symbol carved into it is. He didn’t know, either, but he said it’s valuable.”

  Peggy examined the ring in the light. It was heavy and large, definite
ly a man’s ring. The stone was square with a carving taking up most of the reddish brown space.

  “Ah, yes!” Dr. Ramsey joined them in the evidence room. “A very nice sienna-colored variety of chalcedony. Carnelian. You don’t see this kind of thing much anymore.”

  “You certainly don’t,” Peggy agreed. “Whoever this was made for had massive hands. The carving is intriguing. I wonder if you could find it on the Internet.”

  “I didn’t look, since it wasn’t relevant to the case anymore,” Mai admitted.

  “You mean since there was no case,” Dr. Ramsey reminded his young assistant.

  “Still, it would be interesting to know. You said the museum is going to take it?” Peggy asked Mai.

  “Yes. They were very excited about it. I talked to the director, and he’s on his way over. I was glad you could come right away. I didn’t think he’d come and get it that quickly. Nobody ever moves that fast.”

  “There are some serious history buffs in this town,” Peggy explained. “This is like a pot of gold for them.”

  “I’m glad we can give it to them.” Mai took the ring back and put it in the evidence bag. “We were lucky to find it in all that mud. I guess everyone out there collecting the bones has made other things come to the surface.”

  “There’s a wealth of things from the past out there,” Peggy agreed. “You wouldn’t believe anything could still be there after being underwater for so long. There are cups and saucers, pottery, even some personal items that looked like barrettes to me.”

  “And this is where I leave you,” Dr. Ramsey said. “I don’t understand people’s fascination with the past. I suppose, being a man of science, I don’t appreciate hundred-year-old bric-a-brac.”

  “I guess it must be because you are a man of science.” Peggy smiled up at him. “As a woman of science, I was fascinated by it.”

  “The bones I could see,” he conceded. “The rest, you can keep.”

  The security guard called the lab to let them know there were visitors at the front desk. It was Jonathon and Geneva, who was the museum docent for that day. “Peggy! I didn’t expect to see you here,” Jonathon said. “I came by to pick up the ring they found out at the lake.”

  “Jonathon, this is Mai Sato, the assistant ME. Mai, this is Jonathon Underwood, the director of the historical museum. And Geneva Curtis. She’s a member of the Shamrock Historical Society.”

  Everyone shook hands and said a few nice words. Mai sympathized with the pair over the loss of their friend. “Could I ask why you call it the Shamrock Historical Society?”

  Geneva was glad to explain. “It came from our very first member, Captain Marcus O’Malley, who donated the property for a museum. The group that raised money for it decided to call it the Shamrock Society after the large patch of shamrocks where they planned to put the building.”

  “That’s very colorful.” Mai smiled. “Here’s the ring. Peggy waded into all of that gook to get it. I suppose she’s the one you should thank for saving it.”

  Mai handed the bag to Jonathon. Geneva gasped when she caught sight of the ring. “Where did you say you found this?”

  “Sort of floating in the mud,” Peggy answered. “It was close to where we found Lois’s body.”

  “You were lucky it wasn’t sucked right down,” Mai added. “What’s wrong?”

  “That ring.” Geneva looked at Jonathon. “It’s already registered in the museum’s catalog. It’s been a part of the collection for more than a century. There’s no way it should’ve been out there at Lake Whitley.”

  Jonathon peered closely at the ring without removing it from the plastic bag. “It may be a different ring, Geneva. They may look the same, but the other ring must be still in the collection. Maybe someone who lived in the village had something similar.”

  “No way.” Geneva was certain of it from the set look on her face to the rest of her body language. “This is the same ring. I just want to know what it was doing out there.”

  13

  Phlox

  Botanical: Phlox paniculata

  There are more than sixty species of phlox. All but the Siberian phlox are natives of North America. Phlox are usually tall with thick, glossy leaves. All flowers have five petals on a tubular base. The word phlox comes from the Greek word for flame, probably because of its bright colors. A British naturalist, Thomas Drummond, is credited with discovering this plant, which means unanimity in the language of flowers.

  “THIS WON’T MEAN ANYTHING TO what happened to Mrs. Mullis,” Mai told Peggy. “You know that, right? There is no case. It’s been ruled an accidental death. Officially ruled by the acting medical examiner, me.”

  Peggy was going back to the museum with Jonathon and Geneva to check out the ring. She’d tried to say all the right words to dispel any fears Mai was harboring about her case, or lack thereof, falling apart after she’d put her official seal on it. She’d never do anything to undermine Mai’s authority . . . unless something important changed the parameters of the situation.

  She sat in the front seat of the history museum’s van with Geneva chattering constantly about the ring. “This is the same ring that caused all that controversy a few years back. You don’t remember that, Jonathon. You weren’t here yet. I was just starting as a docent at the museum. I can’t quite recall what all the fuss was about. I’m sure one of the other ladies would remember it better than me.”

  Jonathon kept his eyes on the traffic as he drove through the downtown area to the museum. “The carving on the ring is interesting. I thought that from the first time I saw it. I haven’t had a lot of time to look it up. I’m surprised someone hasn’t figured it out by now.”

  “What was the controversy about, Geneva?” Peggy asked.

  “Something about the ownership of the ring and who donated it. There were a few people who claimed it belonged in their family. Like I said, we’ll have to talk to Mrs. Waynewright or Annabelle. They’ve been in the society longer than anyone; well, since Lois died.”

  Peggy watched another parking deck being demolished to make room for another set of expensive condominiums as they stopped for a red light. Soon there wouldn’t be anything but expensive condos in the downtown area. A few weeks ago, she’d gone to look at a rooftop garden in a building where the condos started at one million dollars. That had stunned her.

  “I feel responsible for this,” Jonathon said as he took off from the light. “I should’ve kept better records of things going in and out of the museum.”

  “Are you sure it’s the same ring now?” Peggy wondered. He’d been so sure it wasn’t, at the lab.

  “I don’t know. It might’ve been a knee-jerk reaction to seeing it there when it should’ve been locked safely in the collection.” He glanced at her. “It’s unlikely there would be two rings so much alike. I guess we’ll see when we get there.”

  They reached the new history museum, fittingly located on Shamrock Drive. Peggy was getting out of the van as Jonathon’s long strides were taking him to the door, keys in hand. Geneva held her back, using the open van door as a shield between them and Jonathon.

  “I’m telling you, Peggy, there’s something fishy about Lois’s death. You finding this old ring just focuses the sunlight into the dark corners. Maybe you should be asking Jonathon about the big slap down between him and Lois the day before she died.”

  Peggy looked into Geneva’s pretty, chocolate-colored face. She guessed Geneva had retired early. She was much younger than most of the other ladies in the Shamrock Historical Society. “I asked him about that when we were at the lake after finding the ring. He said there were some items missing from the museum. He made it sound as though Lois might’ve been involved.”

  “As if! Twice we came here and found the back door left open. Jonathon’s a sweet kid, but we didn’t have a say in who replaced our old director. Most of us feel he could use a little seasoning, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think I do.” Peggy closed the van doo
r and began walking toward the modern granite building. It was two stories, with past flags from Mecklenburg County flying in front. “Do you think that’s how the ring got out to the lake?”

  Geneva narrowed her eyes and glanced toward the door. “We think Jonathon had the ring out at the lake when he argued with Lois and made her eat those poison berries.”

  “You mean that’s what the other ladies will think when they know about the ring.”

  “I texted all of them on the way over here. We thought he had something to do with Lois’s death in the first place. Don’t you see that this lends us credibility?”

  Peggy didn’t really follow that line of thought. Why would Jonathon bring the carnelian ring out there with him if he was going to argue with Lois and eventually kill her? It sounded like desperate thinking to her. She was amazed the ladies felt so hostile toward Jonathon, who seemed to be a very likable young man. What had he done to alienate them? A few unlocked doors didn’t seem like enough to engender such harsh feelings.

  They finally went inside. There was no sign of Jonathon. Geneva pointed them in the direction of the museum’s locked collection, where several dozen valuable pieces of jewelry were on display.

  Jonathon was already unlocking the case and pulling out the drawers. “The carnelian was stored right here.” He pointed to the empty space. “I know I didn’t take it out. The question is, who did?”

  Geneva glared at him. “We have only your word for that, Mr. Director. I suggest we call the police and report this as a theft, and let them find out who took it.”

  “That would be my thinking on the subject as well,” he agreed, taking out his cell phone. “No matter what you think, Geneva, I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “Possibly those ruffians you hired to come in those times when you conveniently left the back door unlocked did the job for you, Mr. Underwood.” Mrs. Waynewright stood at the door to the display area, flanked by Grace and Dorothy. She held her head high under a subdued black felt hat.