A Corpse for Yew (34 page)

Being a botanist, she knew plants destroyed in a fire come back, sometimes fuller and richer. They have spores and tendrils that bring new life after they’ve cushioned their roots in the warm, soft ground.

I’m getting maudlin in my old age.
She drew her hand across the mirror in front of her. No doubt it came from too much reflection and self-examination. She wasn’t a plant, as much as she loved them. She was human. She lay in bed questioning if she would see the morning many times, as many other humans did. Sharing her life with Steve, despite all the difficulties she’d put in front of her, was going to be the next adventure in her life. They’d be happy together.

Peggy stepped out of the bathroom clutching a big purple towel to her. She gasped when she saw a hundred candles lit in the bedroom and her grandmother’s silver tea tray filled with chocolate and strawberries on the bed. “I know you’re here somewhere.” She laughed and looked around the shadowed room.

Steve stepped close and kissed her. “I was wondering if you were going to come out of there before all the candles melted away.”

“You’re a fast worker to get all this set up while I took a shower.”

“Let’s just leave it at I’m a fast worker.” He took a small blue box out of his pocket and got down on one knee before her. “I love you, Peggy. Will you marry me?”

Tears sprang to her eyes as she opened the box and found a flower-shaped diamond engagement ring. The stone in the middle was a yellow diamond, and it was surrounded by petal-shaped pink diamonds. “I love you, too, Steve. And yes, I’ll marry you. But maybe we should talk about the house . . .”

He got to his feet and smiled at her. “We probably should. But not right now.”

Shakespeare whined outside the closed bedroom door and put his head down on his paws.

 

 

PEGGY AND STEVE SLEPT LATE the next morning and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast on the back patio. Despite the rain, the weather was still mild even as Halloween approached. It was as though they had skipped fall, and summer still clung to the misty tree branches.

Steve was reading an article about horse farms in the
Weekly Post
while Peggy looked through some textbooks on drought gardening that a friend had sent her. Shakespeare pranced like a puppy in the garden, looking for butterflies and daring frogs that crossed his path. He attacked a goatsbeard shrub that seemed to get his attention. Peggy called him away from it. The poor thing was having enough trouble surviving without a big dog jumping on it.

“It looks like you might be finished gathering yew branches,” Steve said. “The police officially charged Snook Holt with second-degree murder. Apparently they feel it was unplanned.”

“I don’t know if they can make that stick,” she remarked, “although violating his parole by stealing human bones can’t look good on his record.”

“He seems suspicious to me. They had a history together since she testified against him. I’d think he was guilty of hurting her, too.”

There were a dozen reasons why Peggy disagreed, and she would’ve launched into them, but the phone rang. “Let me get this, and we’ll talk.”

Steve laughed as she walked away. Peggy answered the phone, surprised to hear Professor Burris on the other end of the line. “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said. “I was wondering if you could meet with me this evening. I found a few interesting things about that ring you told me about.”

“That sounds fine. Would you like to meet at the university?”

“No, I was thinking about the museum. Around seven? I have a friend you should meet.”

Peggy agreed to the meeting, curious about Burris bringing a friend along. After going back out to the patio, she asked Steve if he’d like to go with her. “It might be boring. History people can run on sometimes.”

“History people, huh? What about plant people?”

She nudged him hard with her foot. “Plant people? What about animal people? They can run on worse than anyone.”

“I want to go, anyway. I don’t have anything to do today except spend the day with you. What else do you have planned?”

“Maybe I’m planning to sit here in the sun all day.”

“Not likely. I’m sure you must be planning some time at the Potting Shed.” He smiled at her. “That’s okay. I want to do that, too. Maybe Sam left some big, heavy bags of fertilizer or whatever else you stock there that I can move around. That way I’ll feel useful.”

“If I were you, I’d value my life too much to mess with Sam’s inventory. He knows where everything is in that store.”

“Well, then, I’ll have to think of something else to do. Maybe I can distract you from counting seeds and talking to your plants while you’re there.”

“I don’t talk to my plants,” she protested. “But maybe I can be distracted from counting seeds.”

He laughed. “That’s saying Sofia and Emil aren’t at the Kozy Kettle. Because God knows there’s some disaster story they can tell about a couple who spend too much time at their shop.”

“No doubt.” She took his hand. “We’ll have to be very quiet.”

Shakespeare whined and pranced around the patio. “I think he wants to go, too,” Steve said. “That takes care of the quiet part.”

PEGGY TOOK STEVE WITH HER to meet Professor Burris at the history museum. They’d had a wonderful day together, uninterrupted by emergency vet phone calls or Emil and Sofia. Shakespeare had even been good while they were at the Potting Shed. These golden days were too rare not to be greatly appreciated.

Now she pointed out the box-cut yew bushes that lined one side of the museum building near the driveway. The evening shadows made it difficult to tell the difference between them and the boxwoods for many people, but Peggy had noticed them earlier.

“And they have them right out here in a public place even though they’re poisonous?” Steve was amazed. “Why don’t places like this have only safe plants?”

“People don’t really think of plants as being safe or unsafe,” she told him. “We plant them because they look good in a spot or because it’s a sunny plant or a shade plant. Most people don’t even realize a yew is poisonous.”

“I guess I should know that from the number of animals I treat that are accidentally poisoned by chewing on some plant they shouldn’t get into.”

“Exactly. Children are the next most likely group to be poisoned by plants. But plant poisonings are high on the adult list as well.”

They stopped talking about the yew as Professor Burris and a short, thin man with glasses that seemed to be too large for his face opened the front doors of the museum.

“Dr. Lee, you haven’t met Stanly Hawkins.” Professor Burris introduced the two. “Mr. Hawkins is the retired director of the museum.”

Hawkins reached out to shake Peggy’s hand. His grip was cold and weak. He pushed his glasses back on his nose to take a better look at her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Lee. I’ve heard your name so many times from my friend here. Won’t you come in?”

Peggy introduced the two men to Steve. She stumbled over naming him as her fiancé even though the flower-shaped ring gleamed on her finger. It would take some doing to get used to calling Steve the man she was going to marry.

The four of them sat down at a huge conference table that seemed to be little used. The conference room was almost pristine with its pale blue carpet and matching upholstery on the chairs. Good housekeeping, Peggy considered, not seeing a speck of dust anywhere in the room. Even more impressive, a tall ficus by the window was very well cared for. The soil looked as though it had been recently replaced, and the tree leaves were bright green and shiny.

“To bring the discussion up to where we are this evening,” Professor Burris began, “let me begin where Dr. Lee and I met at her shop.”

Peggy knew a lecture when she heard one. Not surprising, since Professor Burris had been teaching for a long time. Many of her colleagues knew only one way to relate information—lecturing as though it were a seminar. She interrupted as he took a breath to describe the plants she helped him purchase.

“What Professor Burris is trying to say is that I asked him about his experience with local historical artifacts.” She withdrew a photo of the carnelian ring from her pocketbook. “This is the ring in question. No one seems to know what it is or where it came from. It’s listed in the museum catalog as a carnelian ring circa 1863. I was hoping he would be able to tell me something about it.”

Professor Burris cleared his throat to speak, but Hawkins had already picked up the photo. He exclaimed, “Of course! I know this ring very well. That teenager they hired to take my place at the museum would recognize it, too, if he’d ever taken the time to read my notes. I left specific notes behind on
every
artifact cataloged during my time here.”

“Is it from the Civil War?” Peggy asked.

“Yes. It was one of four rings made with the emblem of one of the more prestigious companies to fight for the South. It was one of the last great efforts to commend the soldiers and their officers. The Confederacy ran out of money shortly after. It’s the only such ring left, as far as I know.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with Lois Mullis’s death in the newspapers,” Peggy said, “but I believe this ring may have played an important part in what happened to her.”

“How is that possible? The ring has been here in the case for the last ten years.” Hawkins peered at the photo again. “I thought Mrs. Mullis died at the lake.”

Peggy explained how she’d come to have possession of the ring. “We’re fairly sure Mrs. Mullis took the ring out of the case and, for whatever reason, transported it to the lake. She may have been killed for it.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Hawkins took out a large white handkerchief and mopped his brow with it. “That’s terrible! What is that new director thinking of, allowing artifacts to be checked out like this is the public library?”

“It wasn’t exactly his fault. Jonathon accused Mrs. Mullis of stealing that ring and a few other pieces. His accusation was ignored, possibly because she sat on the board of directors. He was accused in turn of leaving the museum door unlocked and facilitating thefts from the museum.”

“Yes. I suppose I could understand that. I wouldn’t have allowed it in my time here, but things change.” Hawkins shrugged. “I don’t know what else I can tell you, Dr. Lee. I’m glad the ring was found.”

“Did you know Mrs. Mullis?”

“Very well. She was an upstanding patron. Her husband was also a pillar of the museum. They both sat on the board for many years. It’s difficult for me to imagine Mrs. Mullis doing anything of this nature.” He paused and glanced at the three other people at the table. “Except, of course, for the feud.”

“Feud?” Professor Burris leaned forward on his elbows. “That sounds interesting, Stanly. What feud is that?”

“Well, it started when we received the ring and several other artifacts, which were supposedly owned by the same officer in that regiment I mentioned. Unfortunately, the artifacts were unearthed in a field in South Carolina, where this group fought their final battle. Because of that, there’s always been some question of which officer the artifacts, and the ring, belonged to.”

“You mean all four families of the officers who received the matching rings all claimed it?” Peggy took out a pad of paper, preparing to write their names.

“Not exactly.” Hawkins smiled in the quick, rabbitlike fashion of a man who’s used to appeasing others. “There are only two remaining families of the four officers. The other two died in the 1900s. Our question came into play when another family, who also sat on the museum board, challenged the ownership of the ring.”

“Only one?” Professor Burris shook his head. “Many fine Southern families were lost after the war.”

“Yes,” Hawkins continued. “The Waynewright family, Thomas and Agnes, were the other family. There was some debate between the families as to which officer the artifacts belonged to. Of course, since both families were heavy donors and important to the museum, we had to come up with a solution that would appease the Waynewrights and the Mullises.”

“So there was a feud between these two families about the ring?” Steve summed up.