Read Online 6 A Thyme to Die by Joyce Lavene - Free Book Online

Abutto.”
    “Did he have a large bag with him?” Steve asked.
    “I don’t know.” Bob shrugged. “I wouldn’t even remember him except I saw his picture on the TV after he died. A bad way to remember, huh?”
    They all agreed and had another good laugh at old age before Peggy and her companions went back out to the dining room to eat dinner.
    “I’d like to know how Dabney came to have lunch with Abutto but completely forgot about it.” Al tucked his napkin into his shirt collar and started on his huge plate of fried chicken. “Maybe he can tell us a little more about him.”
    “What about taking a drug dog into the convention center?” Steve suggested. “If the duffel bag is still there and had drugs in it, the dog could find it.”
    Peggy smiled as she ate her sweet potato fries. “The only problem with that are all the plants in there right now. Even the best-trained dog would get lost in the scent of all those flowers.”
    “That makes sense,” he agreed. “I don’t like the idea that people are sending a fake ‘daughter’ of Mr. Abutto’s to visit you. They were friendly today, but tomorrow, they might get pushier.”
    “I think they’ll get the idea that the police have the bag. It makes more sense than me having it. I didn’t see Aris before he was killed.”
    “Steve’s right, Peggy.” Al looked up at her across the table. “I’ll assign someone to keep an eye on you for the next day or so until we see how the investigation progresses.”
    “I’ll take the night shift on that.” Steve grinned.
    “No offense, Mr. Director, but an officer outside the house would be better.” Al’s tone said that the matter was resolved. “Hey, it’s almost eight-thirty. I have to get going. Mary is gonna have my head. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”
    When Al was gone, Peggy and Steve finished up quickly and drove home. Their conversation was sporadic and less personal. When they got out of the car, Peggy noticed the patrol car across the street in the shadow of a hundred-year-old oak tree.
    “He didn’t waste any time,” Steve remarked. “He cares a lot about you.”
    “We’ve known each other most of our lives.” Peggy unlocked the side door to the house. “John would laugh at the idea of Al and me working together.”
    “So you weren’t into forensic botany when John was alive?”
    “Maybe a little, but it was unapplied theory. I was working full-time at Queen’s University.”
    She opened the door and Shakespeare ran out into the yard. His enthusiasm was humorous even though Steve felt like the Great Dane should have been better trained than to run out because the door was open.
    “I’ll stay out here with him and get the mail,” Steve told her.
    “All right. I’ll have to check on my plants. It shouldn’t take too long.”
    “Good. I think we have some talking to catch up on.”
    Peggy sighed as she left him outside. She wished she had better answers for him. She was afraid it was going to be a matter of time and learning to adapt to this new version of Steve. There was no magic pill or herb tea she could think of that would make a difference.
    She kicked off her shoes and went downstairs to the basement. Switching on the lights, she could see Walter had done an excellent job tending to her plants. He was an eager, talented gardener, as well as an enthusiastic botanist. He wanted to know about everything she was working on. It was nice to have someone to talk to who was as interested in her experiments as she was.
    John had loved gardening. He’d called working in the yard his getaway. He’d come home and put his hands in the dirt to forget all the ugly, sordid things he’d seen and heard on the streets of Charlotte. He was amazing with trees and shrubs and had grown azalea flowers the size of grapefruit. All of their neighbors had been envious.
    She missed that close kinship in their interests. She and Steve talked about the things they were interested in, but they were