She floated into my office, stem swaying seductively; roots that wouldn’t stop.
“What’s a broadleaf like you want with deadwood like me?”
“My husband Basil. We argued. He’s missing. Can you root him out?”
Intrigued, I took the case.
First stop, the morgue.
“Any John Does?”
“Just one. With toxin levels redwood high.”
Toxins? Toxy? The mud cleared.
“Hello Police? Put out an APB on Toxicodendron Radicans, AKA Poison Ivy.
“The crime? Herbicide.”
My entry in the August 2019 75 Word Story Challenge at SFFChronicles