Her mind raced and her heart thumped loudly in the muffled silence. She could always scream when someone came back into the room.
What if no one comes back for hours? I could always . . .
Cell phone! It was in her pocket. She inched her hand down her side until her fingers touched it. Actually, the coffin was rather spacious. There was plenty of room to move her arms and legs. She could even lift her head a little.
Never mind!
Sometimes she wished her brain would be a
trifle
less analytical.
She brought the cell phone back up to her face. That part was a little tricky, even though the sides weren’t tight against her. The whisper of her hand moving against the satin liner made her shiver. But she managed to get the phone up and flip it open. The blue light came on.
The light was haunting in the utter darkness. She had her father’s cell phone on speed dial, but when she pushed the button, there was no response. She tried again. The call went straight to voice mail. The third time, she left him a message. “Dad, I’m trapped in a coffin. Please come into the third room on the right and look for the silver coffin.” The beep sounded to end the message. Peggy finished anyway. “Please hurry.”
She closed the phone, keeping it against her heart. She felt better. If he didn’t answer, she could call 911. She could even call Mangum’s and tell them she was trapped. She could plead a lapse in brain function made her fall over into the coffin. As long as
someone
came and got her out, she didn’t care!
She heard the door to the room open and close again and then there was a swish-thump noise. Forgetting she didn’t want to get caught, she kicked her feet against the coffin lid and screamed for all she was worth. When the lid finally opened, she popped up like hot toast.
“I thought you were trying to
sneak
in here and do this, Margaret. You’re making enough noise to wake the dead.” Ranson nodded at the coffins around them. “Excuse the pun, folks.”
She hugged him tightly, and he helped her climb out of the coffin. “I climbed in here to hide, and the lid stuck.”
He examined the inside of the coffin. “Not quite ready yet, huh?”
She shivered. “Not yet, Dad. Thanks.”
“So, did you find out what you came here to find out?”
“Not yet.” She didn’t realize she’d left her purse on the floor by Darmus’s coffin until she noticed the letter opener still jammed in the side of the bronze coffin. It was a miracle no one else noticed. It reminded her that people see what they expect to see. “But I’m not leaving until I do.”
With her father’s help, she continued her grisly task. The letter opener was ruined by the time it went through the silicone sealer from head to foot between the lid and the base of the coffin. She unhinged the latch when she was done and took a deep breath.
Her father put his hand on her shoulder. She smiled at him and nodded. Together, they pushed open the lid on the coffin.
The dead man inside was cleaned up, dressed in a brown suit, and positioned with his hands over his heart. His face and hands were grisly and ruined. Nothing there to use for her purpose. Fortunately, she’d known Darmus a long time. “Let’s lift his trouser leg.”
“What?”
“Darmus had a scar on his right leg. John and I were with him the day he did it. He cut it on some barbed wire climbing into a pasture to steal a horse.”
“A horse?”
“You don’t want to know.” She grimaced. “Anyway, it left a white, sickle-shaped scar on his leg. It wouldn’t have been affected by the fire, and I doubt Darmus or Luther would have thought to do anything to disguise it.”
Together, they lifted the right leg and pulled up the trouser.
“No scar. This isn’t him.” Her face was set in grim lines. “I don’t know who it is. But it’s not Darmus Appleby.”
After closing the coffin, Peggy and her father somehow managed to slip out of the mortuary unseen by the attentive staff. They sat in the truck for a few minutes, facing the stark brick building.
“What now?” her father finally asked.
“I’m not sure. I know I
should
go to the police. There have been some terrible errors made. But I want to talk to Darmus first. He must be out there somewhere. I still have some time to find him before I have to stop this.”
“How will you find him if he’s hiding?”
She started the truck, her hands shaking on the wheel, and reversed out of the parking lot. “I don’t know. I can’t believe this is happening. What in the world is he thinking?”
“I’d say he isn’t. At least not in his right mind. You say he isn’t a criminal, but I don’t think the police are going to see it that way.”
“I know.”
“Is there something I can do to help you find him?”
“
I’m
not going to go out and find him.”
He chuckled. “Whatever! I saw the papers when you helped solve those murders. I was mighty proud of you, little girl.”
Despite her age, it still made her smile when he called her that name. Was anyone ever too old to be reminded that there was someone older, someone wiser who was looking over their shoulder? When she was in college it annoyed her, but she’d come to appreciate it as the years passed and younger people seemed to dominate her life. “Thanks, Dad. But I don’t think so. I’ll take you back home. Then I’ll make a few calls. I have to talk to Al.”
“Never mind that. I’m in for the pound! And don’t worry.” He took out a huge pistol from a holster under his lightweight cotton jacket. “I’ll take care of anything that gets out of line.”
“Where did you get that?”
“I carry it for protection. It’s a bad world out there, little girl. Your mother and I live out on a farm alone and travel by ourselves a bit. I wanted to be sure we’d be safe.”
“You have shotguns you hunt with. Why a pistol?”
“Because it’s so handy.” He grinned. “See? You didn’t even know I had it on me.”
“Do you have a permit for that?”
“I do. And I took shooting lessons. I can shoot a fly off a cow’s butt at one hundred yards.”
She wasn’t sure if that was good, but she hoped Paul didn’t find out about it. He wasn’t a big fan of concealed weapons. “All right. But put it away for now. And don’t take it out unless someone threatens our lives. I’m going home to change clothes after I check in at the Potting Shed and then I’ll decide what to do.”
PEGGY DIDN’T PLAN ON EVERYONE wanting to go to the Potting Shed with her. But when she came back downstairs after changing clothes, her mother, and her father were waiting for her. Cousin Melvin and Aunt Mayfield had decided to take naps.
“So this is the Potting Shed!” Peggy’s father looked around at the antique garden furniture and lemon verbena display, then stomped his foot on the hardwood floor. “Good floors.”
“Thanks, Dad. You’ve already met Sam. This is Selena Rogers. She helps me out here at the shop. And this is Keeley Prinz. She works in the field with Sam most of the time. I have two other part-timers who come in when we get really busy.”
“Like now.” Selena shook hands with Peggy’s father. “Nice to meet you. We’re
really
busy this afternoon, so if you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course!” Ranson looked at the people streaming in and out of the front door. “You’re doing a wonderful business here, Margaret! Congratulations, darlin’.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Peggy glanced at her mother, who was frowning. “Would you like to sit down, Mom?”
“No.” Her mother shook her head. “I’d like to go home now. Or at least back to your place.”
“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” her husband asked.
“Our daughter is running a garden shop after going to school practically all of her life. What could be wrong?”
“Mom!” Peggy whispered, glancing at the people she did business with every day. “Maybe we could talk about this later.”
“That’s fine,” her mother replied. “I’m sure nothing I say is going to change your mind anyway. You always were a stubborn child, Margaret. Always determined to have things your way.”
“Wow! That really surprises me.” Keeley nudged Sam.
“Yeah.” He laughed. “Who would’ve guessed?”
“Don’t the two of you have somewhere to go?” Peggy asked them.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Let’s get out of here, Keeley. I have plans to be inside sipping lemonade by three.”
“Be careful, you two,” Peggy cautioned. “Be sure to stay hydrated.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sam nodded his head as he picked up a bag of fertilizer. “Nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.”
“Good to see you too, son,” Peggy’s father acknowledged.
“Who’s for coffee this morning?” Emil Balducci and his wife, Sofia, pushed past customers carrying hoes and ceramic pots to get into the Potting Shed. “I have some nice sticky buns, too!”
“Mmm! I love those things!” Peggy’s father put out his hand. “I’m Ranson Hughes, Margaret’s father. This is my wife, Lilla. We’re up here visiting from Charleston.”
Emil put his buns and coffee down on the counter and wiped his hands on his red Kozy Kettle Koffee and Tea Emporium T-shirt. “Good to meet you! Peggy is our best friend. Right, Sofia?”
His husky, blond wife nodded. “She must have told you plenty about us already, right?”
Peggy’s father was at a loss, but his smile didn’t waver. “I’ll bet she has! Could I have one of those sticky buns? I love those things.”
“Of course, of course!” Sofia gave him a sticky bun and a napkin. “We try to find Peggy the right man, you know. She’s always alone in that big, expensive house. She needs a man to take care of her. Maybe you can convince her. My brother, Stefan, is in town this week. They could have dinner together.”
Peggy’s parents looked at her. She sailed into the fray. “I don’t think Steve would like me to have dinner with another man. Thanks anyway.”
“Oh him.” Sofia waved her ring-heavy hand. “He’s a nuisance, isn’t he? Does he have money? My brother, Stefan, is an investment broker. He sells things to people.”
“What kind of things?” Ranson asked.
“Mostly hogs. But sometimes sheep. They are very popular on the market today.”
“Well maybe Steve
and
Margaret could have dinner with him.” Her father beamed with his solution to the problem. “Steve is a fine boy. I’m sure he’d like Stefan, too. And Steve knows plenty about animals.”
Peggy walked away from the jumble of conversation that followed the suggestion. Her mother was rocking in the hardwood rocker that always became part of her seasonal display. For late spring, it included a dozen potted pink and white azaleas and a real, old-fashioned lilac bush whose perfume filled the shop. Selena had put little felt bluebirds on the bush. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Lilla didn’t look up.
The rapid front and back motion of the rocker told a different story. How many times had a much younger Peggy waited to find out what her punishment was going to be for whatever her youthful folly while her mother rocked this way on the front porch? “You don’t like the Potting Shed?”
“I like it just fine. But I’m disappointed in the owner. She could do
so
much better.”
Was there ever a time a parent’s opinion didn’t matter? Peggy glanced at Selena, who was trying to work through a long line of customers. “We’ll have to talk about this later. I can’t leave Selena to fend for herself right now. Please don’t judge me yet. You know I’ve given years to teaching. This is something John and I planned. It’s very special to me.”
Her mother frowned. “You’re right, Margaret. We’ll talk about it later. Your father wants to go to that big Bass Pro Shop over at the mall. Steve said he’d take him. I think I’ll just go along and look for a few things.”
Peggy sighed. “All right. I’ll meet you at home later. I’m glad you like Steve.”
“Not like we had much choice.” Her mother pushed herself out of the rocking chair. “He told us he was ‘the man in your life.’ Even as young as he is, I assume he knows what
that
means. I hope
you
know what it means, too.”
In other words, Peggy’s mother liked Steve just fine. But not as a possible son-in-law.
Not that they were even
close
to that kind of relationship. They had an understanding between them, but that was as far as it went. They spent a lot of time together. Maybe they appeared closer than they were. Why did Steve tell her parents he was the man in her life?
“Steve!” Peggy’s father hailed his arrival from across the crowded shop. “I’m ready to take a look at that Bass Pro Shop.”
He sounded like a man whose life raft just sprang a leak twenty miles out to sea. Peggy smiled as Steve waved to her father, then came through the crowd to kiss her. It was barely a peck on the lips, but she could feel her mother’s disapproving gaze straight through her backbone.
“Are Emil and Sofia trying to marry your father off to a cousin?” Steve asked.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Peggy answered. “Thanks for taking my parents to the mall. We’re going to be slammed here this afternoon. Maybe you could keep them out until dinner?”
“Not a problem. I don’t know what your mother will do, but your father and I can find plenty to look at in the Bass Pro Shop.”
“She always has something to buy. I’m sure you’ll come back with a car full.”
“I’d like to take all of you out to dinner tonight. I was thinking about Italian. What do you think?”
“That sounds okay. Thanks.”
He looked at her carefully. “Is something wrong? Something besides your parents making you a nervous wreck?”
“No. That’s about it.”
“Peggy!” Selena’s voice carried above the crowd. “Help!”
“I have to go.” Peggy squeezed Steve’s right arm. Her mother couldn’t see that side. “I’ll talk to you later.”
She watched Steve walk out of the Potting Shed, talking to her father. Her mother was silent but cooperative. When they were gone, she put on her green apron and concentrated on her customers.