“What a generous gift!” I exclaimed, surprised. The Pennyroyal house, which is located in a quiet residential neighborhood, is a famous Pecan Springs landmark, built back in the days when the railroad first came to this part of Texas, bringing an economic boom. The brick wall that surrounds it also encloses a lovely herb garden that Mrs. Pennyroyal planted years ago. After she died, the Herb Guild volunteered to take over its care. I added, “I hope the guild can continue to maintain the herb garden.”
“I’m sure the board will agree,” Ruby replied. For the past couple of years, she’s been an enthusiastic member of the Teen Center’s board of directors.
“What are you going to do with the house? Sell it?”
“Not on your life,” Ruby said. “We’ll use the lower floor for meetings and parties, and we’re turning the upper floor into office space for the staff. We’ll put some computers up there for the kids, too.”
“What a great idea!” I replied.
“I wish all the neighbors agreed with you,” Ruby said ruefully. “We’ve got to get a zoning variance, and Mrs. Jordan,
who lives next door, isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect. In fact, she’s threatened to oppose it.” She brightened. “But I’m sure we’ll be able to change her mind. After all, the kids need a safe place to hang out.”
A knot garden is a geometric garden design that originated during the Tudor period in England. The pattern—a square, diamond, or circle—is outlined with a low border of dense, slow-growing plants, such as clipped boxwood, dwarf barberry, lavender, or santolina. The shapes defined by the borders can be filled in with a variety of neat, compact plants, such as violets, marigolds, sage, rue, pinks, thymes, and daisies, or with mulches (chips, sand, rock, shells). This kind of garden is suited to a flat, open space, and is both formal and intimate at the same time. For more information, consult
Knot Gardens and Parterres: A History of the Knot Garden and How to Make One Today,
by Robin Whalley.
A few days later, several of us—all members of the Myra Merryweather Herb Guild—gathered at the Pennyroyal house, weeding the flower beds and adding a few more rosemary, santolina, and lavender plants to the knot garden. We tackle these pleasant chores every few months, and we all have a good time together. Today, though, we were subdued, because we missed our old friend.
There are two kinds of pennyroyal—the English (
Mentha pulegium
) and the American (
Hedeoma pulegioides
), a common wild plant. Nurseries usually offer English pennyroyal, but you’ll want to check the Latin name to be sure, or ask. The English pennyroyal belongs in the mint family and has been used to treat many different ailments, from whooping cough to leprosy. Because of its reputation (not scientifically verified) as a flea repellant, it was traditionally planted around dooryards. Pennyroyal leaves make a fragrant and tasty cup of tea. If you’re pregnant, though, you’ll probably want to pass. Pennyroyal oil is far more dangerous to a fetus than is a tea made from the leaves, because it can cause uterine contractions. (In fact, pennyroyal was once a common abortifacient.) It is best for pregnant women to leave both the tea and the oil alone, and also avoid pet products (such as shampoos) that might contain it.
•
In Scotland, pennyroyal is also known as pudding grass, because it is used to flavor haggis pudding (a meat pudding that we would think of as a sausage).
•
Since antiquity, bee and wasp stings have been treated with a pennyroyal poultice, and the leaves were applied to carbuncles and boils.
•
In the Middle Ages, pennyroyal in the garden was thought to repel evil forces. The dried leaves, stuffed into pillows and mattresses, were also believed to repel fleas, and the herb is used today in many pet products, such as shampoos, flea collars, and so on. In the Victorian language of flowers, pennyroyal means “you’d better go.”
Even though Mr. Pennyroyal couldn’t join in the weeding and planting, he used to love to talk with us while we worked.
The group finished weeding and left. I was lingering to set out a pennyroyal plant beside the walk, when Ruby came through the gate. With her was Jackie Peters, the president of the Teen Center board.
“Hi, you two!” I said cheerfully. I straightened up and brushed the dirt off the knees of my jeans. “Have you come to look over the house and start planning your renovations? I’ll bet you’re excited about getting this great place for the Teen Center.”
“Looks like we might not get the house after all,” Ruby said with a somber shake of her frizzy red curls.
“You’re kidding!” I exclaimed. “Why? Don’t tell me Mr. Pennyroyal changed his mind at the last minute!”
“That isn’t exactly what happened,” Jackie said, “but it’s almost as bad.” She looked as if she were about to cry.
“Well, what is it?” I asked impatiently. “Will somebody please explain?”
“Mr. Pennyroyal signed his new will just a few days before he died,” Paula said. “He’d been planning to do it for some time, but he’d been pretty sick. The new will replaced the old one, which left the house to somebody else.”
“So?” I asked, looking from one to the other. “There’s a new will. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is,” Ruby said grimly, “that both of the signed originals have vanished.” She waved her arms. “They’re missing. Kaput. We’ve looked everywhere we can think of, but they’re nowhere to be found.”
Jackie frowned. “If you ask me,” she said, “somebody took them.”
“Tell me what happened,” I said. “Jackie, were you there when Mr. Pennyroyal signed his new will?”
Jackie shook her head. “Mrs. Fisher, his housekeeper, says that the lawyer brought both copies for him to sign. Mrs. Fisher was one of the witnesses. The other was the next-door neighbor, Mrs. Jordan. This happened about a week before Mr. Pennyroyal died.”
“Why didn’t the lawyer keep at least one of the copies?” I asked. “That’s the way it’s usually done.”
“That’s what the lawyer suggested,” Ruby replied, “but according to Mrs. Fisher, Mr. Pennyroyal insisted on keeping both copies. He said he planned to show the new will to his sister. He told Mrs. Fisher to put the originals into the top drawer of the desk in the library, where they’d be safe. After he died, the lawyer came over to pick them up. That’s when they were discovered missing.”
“Why did Mr. Pennyroyal want to show the will to his sister?” I asked.
“Because she thought she was inheriting the house,” Jackie replied unhappily. “I guess Mr. Pennyroyal felt that he ought to explain why he changed his mind and decided to leave it to the Teen Center. After all, it’s worth quite a bit of money.”
“Not only that,” Ruby said, “but the house has belonged to the Pennyroyals since it was built. He probably thought she might be upset that it wasn’t going to stay in the family.”
I sighed. “I hate to ask, but there’s no doubt that Mr. Pennyroyal died a natural death—is there?”
“No doubt at all,” Ruby said firmly. “Both his doctor and Mrs. Fisher were with him when he died.”
“Thank goodness,” I said, with some relief. “At least we’re not looking for a killer.”
“Right,” Jackie said in a dark tone. “Just a thief.”
Ruby looked at me. “What are we going to do?”
“We?” I asked.
“The board would be very grateful if you would help Ruby search for that will,” Jackie said.
“You can’t say no,” Ruby said. “I’d hate to do this all by myself. I don’t think it will be dangerous, but you never know.”
“Well, if you put it that way,” I said with a resigned sigh. I picked up my trowel and basket. “I know Hazel Pennyroyal, so I guess we can begin there.”
“Oh, good,” Jackie said, relieved. “Let me know as soon as you’ve found it.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t you think you’re counting on us just a little too much?”
“Why, not at all!” Jackie exclaimed. “I’m
sure
you’ll be successful.” She frowned. “You
have
to succeed, China. The Teen Center needs that house.”
Mr. Pennyroyal’s sister, Hazel, works as a volunteer at the Women’s Crisis Coalition, so I know her slightly. She lives in a comfortable house with a gorgeous garden. As Ruby and I came up the walk, the multicolored daylilies were making an impressive display on both sides, and behind them, in the deep borders, bloomed several different varieties of salvia, including some beautiful Mexican sage in shades of purple and white.
Hazel Pennyroyal was wearing an apron when she answered the front door. She was a short, plump woman with a fresh-scrubbed face and bright white hair. She recognized me, and I introduced Ruby, as a member of the Teen Center’s board of directors.
“I’m afraid that we need to talk to you about a rather difficult subject,” I said. “It has to do with your brother’s will.”
Hazel nodded. “The best place for difficult conversations is the kitchen,” she said firmly, and opened the door wider. “Anyway, I’m making soap and it needs stirring. Come on.”
“Making soap?” Ruby asked curiously. “Isn’t that a lot of work?”
“Not the way I do it,” Hazel said. We followed her into the kitchen, where she went to the stove and picked up a spoon to stir something in a saucepan. The whole kitchen smelled of roses. “What’s this about Howard’s will?”
“I hope you don’t mind our asking about this,” I replied. “We understand that your brother signed a new will a week or so ago.”
“That’s right,” Hazel said. “Howard decided to leave the house to the Teen Center.” She looked at Ruby. “You surely know that by now, since you’re on the board of directors.”
Ruby nodded. “You saw the new will?”
“Howard showed it to me a few days before he died.” Hazel dropped a handful of chopped rose petals into the pan, stirred it again, and turned off the burner. “He wanted to talk to me about the house. Once upon a time, it belonged to both of us, you see. He wanted to be sure I felt comfortable with it not being in the family any longer.”
“Both of you?” I asked curiously.
“Yes. Our grandfather left it to us when he died. But I wanted to have my own home, so I sold my half to Howard. He always loved that house.”
I gave her a searching look. “Did you feel comfortable with his plan to leave it to the Teen Center?”
“Of course,” Hazel said. She began to pour the soap, which looked like pink whipped cream, into some small plastic molds. “Why shouldn’t I? Howard had served on the Center’s board ever since it began. It was something he felt passionately about. His daughter—his only child—started hanging out with the wrong bunch when she was a teenager, and was killed in a drag-racing accident on the old Austin highway. That was a long time ago, back in the fifties, but Howard always thought that if Felicity and her friends had had a place where they could dance and be with their friends, she might still be alive.” She set down the pan and began to press the soap firmly into the mold with her fingers. “Anyway, he left me the family jewelry and a sizable cash bequest.”
“I see,” I said. It didn’t sound as if Hazel would have a reason to want to take that will.
“I was a little concerned about how Mike might feel, though,” Hazel went on. “I was going to tell Howard that he ought to talk to the boy, but he began to cough and I didn’t want to trouble him.”
“Who’s Mike?” Ruby asked.
“Mike Rhodes, Howard’s stepson. We’re not very close, and I don’t know what plans Howard may have had for him. I do know that at one point, he’d talked about giving the house to the boy.” She frowned. “I’m not sure, but I think that’s how it was in the previous will. I don’t have a copy, though.”
“I can probably get it from your brother’s lawyer,” I said.
Hazel shook her head. “I’m afraid not. The lawyer who drew up the latest will is new. Howard’s former lawyer died some time back. But Mike probably has a copy, since he was the beneficiary. You could ask him.”
Ruby and I traded glances, and I knew what she was thinking. Had Mr. Pennyroyal’s son made off with the new will, to make sure that the house would come to him?
HAZEL PENNYROYAL’S ROSE SOAP
Spray some small molds (try candy molds, which come in all sorts of pretty shapes) with non-scented cooking spray or grease with petroleum jelly. Grate 2 four-ounce bars of castile soap. Put the shavings into an enamel saucepan. Add 2 tablespoons of rose water and 12 drops of rose oil and heat slowly, stirring. When the soap has melted and the mixture looks like whipped cream, add 2 tablespoons of chopped red or pink rose petals. Quickly pour a small amount of the mixture into each mold, using your fingers to press the soap firmly into the mold so there are no air bubbles. Allow to harden overnight in the molds. Remove and let air-dry for a few days before wrapping.
Hazel looked at us. “Why are you asking all these questions? Is Mike making a fuss about not getting the house?” She went to the sink to wash her hands, adding over her shoulder, “He’s a little hot-tempered and impulsive but he’s harmless, really. You don’t have to worry about him.”
Maybe, maybe not. “We’re asking because both copies of the new will seem to be missing,” I said regretfully. “It’s important that we find at least one of them.”
“Oh, dear!” Hazel turned around, a look of dismay on her face. “You can’t imagine that Mike would have—” She frowned. “As I said, he sometimes acts impulsively, but he’d never deliberately go against Howard’s wishes.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Ruby said comfortingly. But when we left Hazel’s fragrant kitchen, we both knew where we were headed next.
Mr. Pennyroyal’s stepson, a slender, middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses and a ragged gray beard, lived in a second-floor apartment in a trendy, upscale complex. He answered the door in gray sweatpants and a T-shirt, holding a shallow terra-cotta pot containing what looked like a miniature rosemary, bonsai-shaped. Through the patio door behind him, I could see a balcony crowded with plants—a wooden half-barrel filled with herbs, pots of daisies, even a rose growing up a trellis. Obviously, Mike Rhodes was a container gardener.