5 Buried By Buttercups (8 page)

“I wanted to hit you with this before you find out for yourself,” he said as he drew her into the shelter of his big, black umbrella.

She didn’t like the concerned look on his face. “What is it?”

“The victim’s name. It’s Paul Lee.”

Chapter Six

Foxglove – Digitalis
- Prized for their tall stalks of beautifully colored, bell-shaped flowers. Native to Europe. Plants are the original source for the heart drug, digitalis. When planted with root vegetables, they will stimulate the growth of the crop. Dried, this plant is harmless. Fresh stalks can be deadly. Digitoxin is the poison. Should not be planted in a garden where children and pets play.

Peggy had to sit in the police car for a few minutes. The rain slammed into the roof and across the windshield. The old oaks moved with the wind, as much as they could. Yellow and red leaves plummeted to the street with the force of the rain.

“I’m sorry,” Al said. “I knew it would have an effect on you. I didn’t realize how much. It’s not really Paul under there, you know. Not your Paul anyway. He’s right out there.” He pointed to the group of policemen taking shelter from the rain under the eaves of an old building.

“I know that isn’t Paul,” Peggy replied. “I’m not upset about that part of it. I think there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

She told him again about both previous victims being named John—this time including the fact that their middle names were also Lee. She also told him about the note she’d found in her front door.

“Mai is looking it over for me. I really think this somehow involves me and my family. Does that sound crazy?” she asked.

Al considered it. “Not when you put it that way. Especially since we have a new victim with your son’s name. Was the note what made the alarm go off yesterday?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Peggy bit her lip. “The front door was locked when I checked it after the alarm went off. It’s almost like someone worked around the alarm system and put the note there later. If that’s even possible.”

“There haven’t been any threats against you, have there?” he questioned.

“No. I don’t understand it. It feels like the killer is baiting me, daring me to find him. I don’t think it’s an accident that these murders have happened close to my house and the victims were killed with plant poison.”

“I’m beginning to agree with you.”

A news van pulled up next to them. Two reporters with a video camera scrambled out into the rain.  They headed for the crime scene. Officers stepped out of the makeshift shelter to keep them away from the body under the tarp.

“What was the flower this time?”

Al took out his cell phone. “I don’t know what it is. I took a picture of it for you.”

Peggy looked at the wilted pink flower on the dead man’s chest. “Cyclamen. Very poisonous. I suppose the delivery of the poison was the same?”

“Yes, as far as I can tell. We’re still waiting on the ME.”

The black van marked Medical Examiner pulled up behind the news truck. A young man Peggy recognized from the office got out with his jacket over his head. He came back after an officer pointed to the news van. It was obvious from the sign language that the reporters were going to have to move.

Peggy saw Dorothy sitting in the passenger side of the black van. Dorothy had a puzzled look on her face, as though she was trying to figure out how Peggy had arrived before her.

The news van pulled out to allow the medical examiner access to the crime scene, but afterward, the driver pulled right back into the alley between buildings. The reporters weren’t backing down from their story.

As the rain slacked off, Peggy and Al got out of his car. Dorothy and her driver met them.

“I see the news traveled quickly on this,” Dorothy remarked with a less than pleasant look at Al. “Lieutenant McDonald—my office is priority on homicides. Everyone else comes after me.”

Al didn’t try to explain why he’d called Peggy. He nodded and walked down with Dorothy to the victim. Two of the four police officers kept the reporters from following them. They couldn’t stop their camera lenses from filming the scene.

“Are you okay?” Paul asked Peggy.

“I’m fine.” She glanced up at him. He was soaked. She bit her tongue to keep herself from telling him that he needed to dry off and change clothes. “How about you?”

He shrugged. “I looked it up once when I was in high school. There were one hundred and eighty five men named Paul Lee living in Charlotte. I’m sure that number has grown since then.”

“There maybe more to it than that,” she said.

Dorothy turned around and called her name. Telling Paul the whole story would have to wait.

The young man from the medical examiner’s office that Peggy had recognized put down a mat on the wet concrete for Peggy to kneel. It was right next to the one he’d put down for Dorothy. It seemed to be his job doing whatever she needed him to do.

“Looks like another poisoning,” Dorothy commented when Peggy was beside her. She moved the victim’s head so that the right side of his neck was exposed. “Same place to inject the toxin. Get pictures of this, Morgan. Also get the flowers.”

“Cyclamen,” Peggy added.

Dorothy looked at her. “Why were you here before me?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Give me the Cliff’s Notes.”

Peggy explained briefly about the man’s name and the other aspects of the case that were beginning to make sense.

“So the first two victims may have been stand-ins for your already deceased husband and this one is for your still living son. Is that the theory?”

“I can only speak for myself,” Peggy said. “It’s beginning to look that way to me.”

“There’s a random kind of logic in that, I suppose.” Dorothy nodded at Al who was speaking to Detectives Dan Rodriguez, Tanner Edwards, and Molly Bryson who’d just arrived at the scene. “You and Lieutenant McDonald go back a’ways, I take it?”

“He was my husband’s partner. They went to college and the police academy together.”

“I see.”

Peggy looked carefully at the victim. This man was younger—probably in his late twenties or early thirties. His coloring was the same as Paul’s, except that his eyes were blue, not green.

She watched as Morgan bagged the cyclamen flowers, taking them carefully from the dead man’s fingers. She noticed the digits were still pliable. The man probably hadn’t been dead very long. She’d know after she read Dorothy’s report.

“What do you think?” Dorothy asked her. “Do you see anything unusual?”

“It looks very similar to the man in the park,” Peggy told her. “And he’s disturbingly like my son.”

“If you are being targeted in some way, we have to assume that the person doing this knows you well. He knows where you live. He knows about your family. He’s sending you a message.”

“I think he’s daring me to catch him.”

Dorothy nodded, her eyes still on the victim. It had started raining again.  Morgan held a large umbrella over her. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to keep working. He’s not killing my family, but he’s destroying other people’s lives. We have to catch him.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Dorothy smiled at her. “Would you like to ride back with us to the office?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

Al thought this was a bad idea when she told him. “Peggy, maybe you should consider going home until we figure out what’s happening. I’m thinking about telling Paul he should do the same.”

“The killer could’ve made Paul his victim,” Peggy reminded him. “He’s choosing effigies instead. I don’t think either one of us is in any immediate danger.”

“You’re as stubborn as a mule, you know that?” Al shook his head. “All right. Do it your way. You always do. Let me know if you come up with anything.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”

Peggy called Steve when she was in the van heading back to the office. She didn’t want him to hear the news and not understand what had happened. Sam called her because Selena had already seen the incident on the Internet. Peggy assured him that everything was all right.

When Peggy and Dorothy got back to the medical examiner’s office, Mai greeted them at the door. Her pretty face was set in a worried frown. She grabbed Peggy’s arm and drew her away from her boss.

“You didn’t tell me this could involve Paul,” Mai accused her.

“I didn’t know until today.” Peggy was getting concerned about Mai’s irrational behavior and pale face. She didn’t look well.

“Paul called me and told me everything. I can’t believe you’d endanger his life this way.”

Peggy wasn’t sure what to say to that accusation. She wanted to hug Mai but that seemed out of place for what was happening between them.

“Anyway,” Mai continued. “I checked your note for fingerprints. There were none, except for yours. There was a dog hair on it. It belonged to a Great Dane so I think that must be Shakespeare.”

Dorothy approached them. “Anything I should know?”

Mai glared at her. “No.” She walked away without another word.

“I don’t know what to say about her,” Dorothy confided to Peggy. “She’s brilliant. I would hate to lose her.”

Peggy watched her go back to her office. She knew a warning when she heard one. She wasn’t sure how to convey that message to Mai when she had become the enemy as well.

With a sigh, she went to her workstation.

She looked at the note again. Clearly, this had been written by the killer. He was taunting her. She wished she could get in touch with Nightflyer. He’d probably have some ideas on how to end this. She seemed to be fresh out of that commodity.

Peggy went back over all the notes and histories of the men who had died. There wasn’t much compiled on the latest victim, as yet.

She closed her eyes. It sent a shaft of fear through her spine when she saw that name again. The killer was close to her. It could’ve been Paul, her Paul, who’d been lying there dead.

She made some phone calls to people she knew in the area who might know botanists besides herself who were involved in creating toxins. No one had heard of anyone working locally in that field. They promised to keep her updated if there was any news.

Peggy and Mai went back over all the victims’ clothing to search for any leads that might have been missed earlier.

“The killer was very thorough,” Mai said. “I’m betting on someone with medical knowledge as well as an understanding of forensics. Besides being a psychopath, of course.”

“A psychopath who wants to play games with me,” Peggy added.

“True. I tried to talk Paul into taking time off until this is over.” Mai sat down wearily at a table in the examiner’s room. “He won’t. I don’t know what it is with your family. Isn’t anyone afraid of dying?”

“I think everyone is afraid of dying, to one degree or another,” Peggy said. “Why do you say that?”

“Maybe it’s just stubbornness then. You’re still working. Paul won’t go home. He told me his father could’ve stayed home the night he was killed. He could’ve let someone else handle it. He didn’t. Obviously a family trait.”

“You’re probably right about that.” Peggy smiled. “Mai, I don’t know how else to ask this question—are you well? You look so pale. And you don’t seem yourself.”