Lethally Green

by Amber Boffin

  “Hi, I’m Maggie. I understand that you flew in from Holland for the wedding. How’re you enjoying it so far?”

  In a thick Dutch accent, the aunt responded, “I am Maaike. Enjoying it? I just arrived. I have a jetlag, you know, just flew in from Holland.”

  “Oh, but did you have a good trip?” Maggie was already biting her lip for having started this conversation.

  “Very tiring. Busy. Driving all the way here after the plane! And on top of it I wasn’t allowed to bring my present of Dutch cheeses… I was forced to leave them at customs, such nice cheeses…”

  Maggie nodded in support of her outrage. “A real pity, that’s regulations for you… Will you be staying here for a while? At the lodge?”

  Aunt Maaike sighed. “Of course! If I come all this way, I can’t just stay a day or two. It’s expensive, you know. Although my poor little Billy, I had to leave him behind. You see, I never do, it’ll be so hard for him. I’m very worried about him.”

  Maggie assumed she was referring to her husband, and seeing the dark look on her face, asked, “Is he ill?”

  “No, no, he’s not ill, or I hope he’s not if the neighbour doesn’t forget to feed him. It always happens, you see. Who can you count on nowadays? I thought I could count on her until I found out she had let him out, and he isn’t used to…”

  “Oh, Billy’s a dog?” interrupted Maggie, relieved.

  “No, I once had a dog, poor devil, but he got run over. Alfred, or Alfi. Do you like dogs? I do, but I got a cat, Billy, after Alfi. Supposing it was easier to deal with until I found out my son was allergic to cats! He can’t visit me now.”

  Maggie gently said, “That’s a shame, but you can still pay him visits, your son?”

  “Yes, but he lives far away. I have to take the train, and no deals for seniors.”

  Whatever topic Maggie picked, Aunt Maaike would find a negative view on it. No wonder the family members seemed to avoid her. She felt a little sorry for her, since she sensed she was intrinsically a good person. Her demeanour wasn’t welcoming, which explained why aside from Ms. Miller, only the new arrivals, not knowing better, were seen speaking to her.

  Maggie seized an unlikely rescue opportunity to get away from Maaike when Tina Partridge made her way over to speak with her. At first Maggie wasn’t sure it was really her, since she had ballooned in size and had bleached her hair, but the unmistakable voice, a high-pitched shrill in her ear, erased any doubt.

  “Maggie! Denis said you’d be here.”

  Maggie felt a pang as reality kicked in. Denis had married her. She felt goose bumps on her arms, just like when she was a teenager, at Tina’s mere presence. She looked at her, trying to smile, and then saw Maaike’s questioning look.

  “Hi, Tina, you’ve chang…still here then. A journalist, I heard.”

  “Yes, nothing escapes me! I married Denis…and you still have your red frizzy hair, I see.”

  “You’ve not yet met Maaike, perhaps someone to interview, she’s from Holland… I’ve got to go and take more pictures, I’m afraid.”

  Maggie left the pair, hiding a little grin at the thought of Tina having to listen to Maaike, although she felt sorry for Maaike.

  Maggie could still see no sign of Amy, so she moved from one guest to another between the trays of canapés, taking portraits. She stood in front of a short man with thick glasses, elegantly dressed with blue cufflinks gleaming in the light of the fireplace. He was looking at her with a broad smile, his arms crossed on his chest, slightly balancing his belly toward the front.Could that be? No, it can’t, she thought,but then he blurted out, “Prickles!” Only one person called her that, because she was like a cactus that couldn’t be easily pushed in a corner.

  Denis opened his arms wide and rushed to hug Maggie. Relieved to see that he didn’t seem to hold a grudge against her for breaking up with him, she returned his hug. Overwhelmed by him planting two moist kisses on each of her cheeks, she moved back a step. Seeing his worried look, she quickly said, “Denis, I nearly didn’t recognize you in a suit. Good to see you! I heard you’ve set up your practice here. I’ve just moved in and was planning on visiting you.”

  “You haven’t changed a bit!”

  “You need better glasses then.” Maggie laughed.

  Taking them off, he looked at her, then putting them back on again, he said, “No, I’m right. Still as beautiful as ever.”

  Maggie felt uncomfortable with his show of affection. She reminded herself that he was now married; he must be over their relationship. “It’s really great, you’re a dentist here. You always said you’d stay in Foxton. Do you have any kids?”

  Ignoring her question, Denis said, “I read about the buyout of your company. Congratulations!”

  “Oh that, I was lucky, that’s all. But tell me about you. You married Tina?”

  “So you know, I couldn’t wait for you to come back, could I?” Denis laughed.

  Hearing his familiar crackle of a laugh, Maggie couldn’t help but giggle. “It’s funny, I always knew Tina had a crush on you, even though she never admitted it.” She looked around, and sensing that he wouldn’t talk about Tina now, she added, “You must know everyone here.”

  “Yes, nearly. Go on, ask me who you want to speak with, I’ll try to introduce you to them. Although I’d rather chat with you the rest of the evening.”

  Maggie pointed to a short, rotund man standing next to the trays of canapés, eagerly picking one sausage roll after another, as soon as he thought no one was paying attention to him. “Who’s he? With his little moustache and chubby hands, he’s harmless, that’s for sure.” She smiled.

  “Oh him—be careful all the same. Humphries. He’s the local constable—sergeant, actually. Yes, I mean it. He’s fundamentally a good guy, likes his food. I see you’ve already picked up on that. I can still read your look. Careful, don’t stare too much at his canapés.” said Denis before carrying on. “He’s a little, how shall I put it… He can’t listen. Very stubborn.”

  “I see, and the one over there, the big woman with the pearl necklace. She seems to be making signs to…oh yes, over there, the thin man with dyed black hair.”

  “She’s the new mayor, Ms. Stilton. Moved up a year or so ago, and interestingly enough managed to get elected. She wasn’t the favourite, but after Peter Wigmott disappeared, I guess she was still ahead of the other candidates.”

  Ms. Stilton darted a dark look toward Maggie, moving from her head to her toes in a judgmental fashion before pushing herself, bust forward, across the room toward the man with the dyed hair.

  “Oh my,” exclaimed Maggie. “She seems to be the critical type. Somehow I think she doesn’t like me.” Having watched the mayor for a little moment, Maggie turned back toward Denis. “You mentioned someone disappeared. Did they find him? What happened?”

  As Denis was about to relate the story, a tall man with hair carefully combed back and a salesman’s grin, grabbed two glasses of champagne and abruptly positioned himself in front of Maggie, handing her a glass.

  “I’ve not had the pleasure… Leon.” He turned his head slightly to the left while smiling, as if he were presenting his best profile, and said, “I’m ready for my portrait.”

  “Leon, don’t you see I’m talking with Maggie?”

  Undeterred, Leon replied in a more pronounced Québec accent, “Come on, my friend, this is a party, we all get to talk to each other.” In doing so, he pushed away Denis with one arm and towered down over Maggie. “I heard that you’re looking for solar panels for your cottage… I’m your man!”

  Irritated by Leon’s behaviour, Maggie replied, “Leon, didn’t you hear him, we’re having a conversation, and I don’t want to discuss solar panels this evening nor…”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Maggie felt a little tap on her shoulder. She turned around and was for a moment speechless when she saw Amy in her mother’s gown. She looked stunning. Leon and Denis looked at Amy with appreciation in their eyes.<
br />
  Eager to send Leon away, Maggie said, “Leon, I see the lady over there doesn’t have a glass, perhaps you should give it to her.”

  Leon retreated with his glasses, and smoothly, as if nothing had happened, handed one to the mayor, who was now standing next to them.

  Maggie whispered in Amy’s ear, “It looks great on you!” Then she smiled at Denis. “Denis, this is Amy, my best friend, and…”

  Amy chuckled. “You must be Maggie’s ex-boyfriend, then. We’ve spoken a lot on the phone…”

  “Yes, I remember you, Amy. We had a long call about Maggie…” Denis grinned.

  “You must have lots to talk about. Don’t mind me, I’ll leave you to it.” Maggie retreated from the pair.

  Although Maggie knew Amy would get back at her for leaving them alone, she felt uneasy with him. Ms. Stilton’s overwhelming presence accentuated the feeling, her exotic perfume dominating the atmosphere. Using the cover of her photographer role, Maggie boldly walked toward the sergeant, who was tucking into the little cheese tarts while talking to a woman in her forties with black hair, bright red lipstick, and a flashy red dress to match.

  Maggie wondered where she had seen her face before. All of a sudden, the image of a billboard of one of the county roads appeared in her mind. On it, an enlargement of her long face grinned at her with bleached teeth, and below it were the wordsFiona McLenny. Womax. Trust the expert, I can help you live where you play. Maggie never understood the need for realtors to advertise themselves as models for toothpaste commercials when what they were supposed to be selling were houses. A picture of a house would do a better job, she thought.

  Maggie smiled at the pair, observing that they both clearly shared a culinary appreciation. Beaming, a crumb dangling from his neatly cropped black moustache, Sergeant Humphries held the tray of little cheese tarts under Maggie’s nose.

  “Try these, they’re really good, smooth on the tongue…and smell them, just out of the oven, the crust, yum, look at it… I wonder how they make them?”

  The sergeant proceeded to inspect the tarts by lifting the tray to eye level, capsizing them into Maggie’s outstretched hands as she tried to stop their fall. They both knelt down, Sergeant Humphries on all fours, the only way to keep his rotund belly out of his way, and Maggie swiftly gathering the tarts and back onto her feet.

  Maggie heard Denis’s characteristic chuckle in the background as the sergeant tilted his head up to Maggie while trying to lift himself clumsily up from the ground. Dusting his trousers, steadied by Fiona McLenny, the realtor, the sergeant rubbed his moustache with two fingers as if a hair had been misplaced while on all fours.

  Wanting to make Sergeant Humphries feel at ease, Maggie placed another plate of canapés under his nose. “Did you try the salmon mousse? It’s really good.”

  Perhaps in recognition of a fellow epicurean, he relaxed and happily accepted the entire dish.

  The missing man, Peter Wigmott, was still clinging to Maggie’s mind. She asked the sergeant, “I’ve heard that a man’s disappeared—”

  Before she could carry on, the sergeant interrupted her, seeming eager to talk. “Do you mean Wigmott? Eh…yes, in fact this was the last place he was seen before he disappeared into thin air.”

  Maggie looked at him, surprised; he straightened his jacket and went on. “It was after the Christmas party organized for the township last December. We always have the party at the Lodge, the food is so good… Where was I?”

  “You were talking about Wigmott,” said Tina, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere and was now looking at them with her eyes as slits.

  Maggie instantly stiffened. “So what happened at that party?”

  “Peter was very loud. Too much to drink if you ask me…”

  “I saw him chat excitedly to everyone about the election. He was campaigning for the position of mayor. Thankfully, he didn’t make it,” said Tina.

  “I agree. He wanted to reduce the police department up here, to cut costs. He had no clue of how much area we’ve got to cover. It’s not a town here. Not to mention what we do for the community. Can you imagine?”

  Struck by what she heard, trying to ignore Tina, who was about to speak again, Maggie asked in dismay, “What happened to him? How could he disappear with all those people around?”

  Tina responded, interrupting the sergeant once more. “You know how it goes. Everyone has a little fun, and Peter Wigmott was bullying everyone into voting for him. You can’t do that, he was spoiling the Christmas party. Not getting what he wanted, he left early.”

  “He didn’t turn up the next day at the township meeting,” added Sergeant Humphries.

  Suddenly the bust of Ms. Stilton appeared, as if by magic, and positioned itself between Maggie and the sergeant, casting a shadow on the pair. To Maggie’s surprise, Tina seemed to shrink in her presence, which was hardly possible, she thought, given her corpulence. Maggie grasped the opportunity to ask the mayor if she could take her portrait for the wedding. Tina mysteriously slipped away out of sight at the word “photo.”

  Like a proud turkey, the mayor wiggled her body and positioned herself next to the sergeant, one leg slightly forward and hips on an angle in a lost attempt to provide a slim front to the camera. Sergeant Humphries, under a sudden spell of sneezing, excused himself, stepping aside from the mayor, leaving her alone for the picture.

  As Maggie took the picture, she said, “Sorry to ask, but you’ve such an unusual perfume. What is it?”

  The mayor looked down at Maggie, flicking her head back to remove a mesh of hair from her eyes. “It’s very special, and you’ll not smell it anywhere else, I assure you. It comes from Peru, based on a flower found in the high mountains. They gave it to me to thank me for my help in building a school. I love it and can’t get enough of it.”

  Maggie, still behind her camera lens, noted that the mayor must have been pretty when she was younger as she replied, “What an incredible story! This perfume is very strong and different. Another surprising story I just heard…”

  Before Maggie could finish her sentence, Tina was back in the picture, barging in her conversation once again.

  “Your opposition candidate Peter Wigmott’s still missing. What do you think happened to him? Just before the election, how convenient!”

  The mayor’s throat reddened under her pearls as she spoke in a calm voice, still posing for the picture.

  “It’s very unfortunate. Perhaps he simply left. I think Peter already knew he wouldn’t win, and there would be no other position for him. What else could it be? Nothing turned up from the extensive search efforts we did, no body, nothing. I believe he’s still on the missing person list, but no one has come forward with meaningful information. Isn’t that so, Sergeant Humphries?”

  Having barely overcome his sneezing fit, the sergeant slowly looked up at the mayor, still rubbing his nose with his handkerchief, spellbound for a moment by the shiny pearls dangling over her breast, as if from a cliff. Sergeant Humphries blushed and looked away.

  “Sorry, I don’t know what I have. Yes, yes, we did all we could… And on top of that, a suitcase was missing from his home, together with valuables.” He mumbled after having blown his nose away from the mayor, “Sorry. The strange thing is that he didn’t use any money from his account, although…”

  He stopped his sentence in midair as he eyed a tray of meatballs passing by. Maggie didn’t have a chance to ask any more as a thin man with round-rimmed glasses, wearing a brown velvet jacket worn out at the elbows, walked up to them and introduced himself.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help overhearing. I disagree with you. I think something’s happened to Peter.” Turning to Maggie, ignoring Tina, who had taken out a little notepad and was scribbling energetically on it, he put out his hand. “Sorry to barge in like this, but you see I’m Fred Wigmott, Peter’s brother, and you can understand that I won’t rest until I know what happened to him.”

  Maggie felt a sudden
uneasiness experiencing his sloppy handshake. Her instinct was telling her he wasn’t to be trusted. She scolded herself for judging too quickly; he must be deeply unhappy with his brother’s disappearance. Perhaps that caused the negative vibes. He was in his early fifties, with dyed black hair similar to Leon’s, trimmed eyebrows, and a skinny but athletic build.

  Giving him a concerned, motherly look, Maggie replied, “Yes, I understand.”

  Seeing Ms. Stilton and Sergeant Humphries too happy to leave him in her hands, she decided to satisfy her curiosity and question him, in spite of Tina, who was still annoyingly listening in but surprisingly quiet.

  Fred was a little reserved but outspoken about his brother. Fiddling with his jacket button, avoiding eye contact with Maggie, he said, “Peter was everything to me. He had such a drive; I couldn’t keep up with him at times. He thought he could make a difference by becoming mayor.”

  Maggie, noticing the use of past tense, replied, “You shouldn’t be so defeatist. He might still be alive, since some of his possessions disappeared with him. Maybe he ran away with someone? A love story, perhaps?”

  Fred sighed. “Unlikely. He would have told me. I think something bad happened because of those elections. People are jealous. You know how it goes.”

  “No, not really. What do you mean?” asked Tina, still scribbling in her pad.

  Fred shifted from one foot to another and looked toward the door as if he wanted to escape Tina’s questioning. He had no need to do so, as Denis interrupted the conversation by poking Maggie from behind. Surprised, she jumped, turned instinctively toward Tina, half smiling, and instead of seeing a smile on her face, Tina pursed her lips and abruptly tucked her notepad into her handbag.

  Denis laughed off her behaviour. “Come on, Tina…”

  Tina swivelled on her feet, her handbag flying around her and hitting Maggie’s arm as she marched off, each step reverberating through the floor. As swiftly as he had appeared, Fred disappeared among the revellers.