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

very different things.
    Her phone rang. It was Dorothy Beck, wanting her to come and work at the morgue tomorrow.
    “I can’t do that,” Peggy said. “The police are letting the flower show open again tomorrow. I have to be there.”
    “All right. We’ll just keep piling things up on your table.” Dorothy paused for humorous effect. “ Seriously, I really need you here to cover the botanical findings. If you can delegate some time to someone else, come on over. It’s possible those plant things we’re missing could help solve the case.”
    “I’ll come if I can. If not tomorrow, since it will be opening day for the show, I’ll come the next day.”
    Dorothy sighed dramatically into the phone. “We’ll do the best we can without you. The cause of death was easy enough. Dr. Abutto died from the gunshot wound. Whoever killed him was in a hurry to bury him. He had some dirt in his lungs.”
    Aris was still alive when he was buried.
    Peggy took a deep breath to calm herself. She didn’t mind helping the forensic lab at the morgue with information about botanical evidence, but she wasn’t very good with the other parts. She was still as squeamish now as she had been the first time she’d been involved in a murder investigation. She hoped she was better at hiding it.
    “In other words, not a very nice person,” she said to Dorothy.
    “Not many murderers are, my friend. Goodnight. I hope to see you tomorrow.”
     

Chapter Eight
    Cedar
    Cedar trees (Cupressaceae) have been very important to humans for hundreds of years. They have been used to make canoes, weapons, bowls and baskets. The pleasant smell humans enjoy is deadly to insects and fungus. They can reach 100 feet in height and can live a long time.

    Peggy and Steve stayed up late that night, talking about everything from the time they’d met to the present day. It was early spring in Charlotte so Steve had started a dry cedar fire in the hearth where they sat. The smell was wonderful. At about ten p.m., they made hot chocolate and drank it as the words drained from them.
    “Paul called me while I was outside with Shakespeare,” Steve told her. “He has the morning shift watching the house—and you. He’s not happy that you’re involved in the investigation.”
    “He never is. You know Paul wants to protect me from everything.” She stared into the flames. “I’m sure he’s talked to you about it before.”
    “He has,” Steve agreed. “I feel the same way. I’m not your son, so I know you’re going to do whatever you think you should do. It’s different.”
    She smiled and put her empty cup on the side table. “I suppose it is. I know you worry too. That’s one good thing about finding out that you’re with the FBI. I can worry about you too.”
    “Is that the best thing you can think of about it?”
    “John was killed doing his job. I wouldn’t have chosen to marry another man who could die the same way.”
    Steve’s eyes were steady on hers. “So you wouldn’t have married me if you’d known?”
    Peggy leaned over and kissed him. “I don’t think I could’ve stopped myself. Even if I’d known, we’d still be sitting here by the fire, ready to go upstairs.”
    “Well, that’s a good thing. I know this has been crazy for you. It was hard keeping it from you too.”
    “You’re better at keeping secrets than I am.” She put her arms around him. “You didn’t give me my new bicycle until the day before my birthday party.”
    He laughed. “Okay. I’m better with keeping big secrets. Maybe I’m not so good at keeping the small ones.”
    “I don’t care. I love you, Steve. I want to be with you. I need a little time to get used to all of this. I’m sure we’ll work it out. Just don’t shut me out when something is going on, okay?”
    Steve got to his feet and held out his hand to her. “Let’s finish this upstairs, huh? I’d rather talk to you in bed.”
    How could she say no?
    #
    Peggy came downstairs with