Page 48 of The Botanist's Assistant
Margaret stops and sucks in a breath as realization dawns.
This isn’t just a shade garden. It’s a poison garden.
Oleanders contain toxic cardiac glycosides. Castor bean plants contain ricin, a chemical warfare agent sometimes usedin political assassinations. Rhododendrons produce grayanotoxins and were the source of the first biological weapon, something called mad honey. She recalls her botany professor enthusiastically telling stories about how a Turkish king used mad honey to stupefy invading Roman soldiers in 65 BCE before slaughtering them and how, in 946, allies of Queen Olga of Kyiv reportedly sent several tons of mad honey to her enemies, then killed them as they lay in a daze. Mad honey was produced from the nectar and pollen of rhododendrons and caused breathing problems, lowered heart rate, dizziness and nausea.
Was this garden Dr. Deaver’s nod to the dual nature of plants—both beautiful and dangerous—or was this Veronica Ann’s doing?
Her mind tells her to turn around and get the heck out of there. Her heart, however, argues that for her work to continue, she must stay.
“I said, ‘go away.’ ” Veronica Ann’s voice grows in volume and intensity.
Shouting doesn’t bother Margaret, not when she was raised in a household like hers.
“You have a lovely garden,” she says instead. “But you might want to get some neem-oil. Your hosta has quite a few aphids.”
It’s true the plants have been affected, but Margaret’s comment is more of an attempt to stall. She needs to make a plan in light of what she’s just discovered.
“I know how to deal with aphids,” Veronica Ann snaps.
Is there a way to get into the rest of the yard to see if thereare more poisonous plants there?Atropa belladonna, for instance. Or wolfsbane like the stem left at the lab door.
“I like the shades of green you’ve incorporated in yourdesign,” Margaret says, even as her thoughts roil. “From pale to dark to almost neon. It’s quite clever. Is this your own project?”
“Jon and I did it together.” The answer is as sharp as a razor blade.
The piercing attack reminds Margaret of the little hunter’s claws, which he has already tested on the side of her upholstered footstool. An idea arrives.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but oleander is very dangerous for domesticated animals like dogs and cats. Every part of the plant is poisonous: flowers, leaves and stems. Since your yard is unfenced, it could be a problem for people who allow their pets to roam free. The same with your azalea and rhododendron. Perhaps you’d like me to look around the yard. I can point out other problematic plants.”
“I’m a chemist. I know about poisonous plants.”
Is that an admission of guilt?
“And if you’re done giving useless gardening advice,” Veronica Ann continues, “I’d like you to get off my property. I have nothing to say to you.”
Margaret isn’t about to budge.
“What I’m really here for—although those aphids will be a big problem unless you get them under control quickly—is a message I got from Neville.”
Neville is the leaf-supplying guide who lives in the Amazonian rainforest in Brazil.
Seeing Veronica Ann’s reaction to the guide’s name is likewhat happens when supercooled sodium acetate crystallizes on a surface. Her expression takes on a series of interesting shapes. First, desire. Then, worry. Then, fear.
“Is he OK? Has something happened?”
“Why don’t we sit down? I can fill you in. Maybe we should go in the backyard.”
Margaret needs to know what other poisonous plants might be on the property.
“Just tell me if it’s good or bad news,” Veronica Ann says.
Margaret sees why Dr. Deaver might have said that his wife was about as snuggly as a fence post. She seems rather fierce and very determined. Two traits that Margaret actually admires. They, however, might also be considered the attributes of a cold-blooded killer.
“Bad news in one way but good in another,” Margaret answers because the guide’s email presented not just a problem but also a solution, which is why she is here. “I would say it depends on perspective; from what point of view you would read the email.”
“Oh, for god’s sakes,” Veronica Ann says. “You sound just like Jon, always adding caveats and fussing about tiny details. Let’s go inside. I’m hot and I need a drink.”
Margaret agrees, although she reminds herself that she will be accepting a beverage from a woman who may have poisoned her husband.
