Corpse Flower: A Cornwall and Redfern Mystery

by Gloria Ferris

  “I know what I saw. And smelled. Anyway, here I am, ready to clean. So, out of my way.”

  I wasn’t going to mention the conversation I heard between Snake and Redfern. In this case, a burden shared was not necessarily a burden lightened. I was beginning to think there was an organized drug ring operating in Lockport and, for all I knew, Pan was part of it. He had visited the Quigley trailer on at least one occasion.

  Edging Pan aside, I surveyed Glory’s palatial foyer. There was a faint shadow in one corner. The shadow was slowly fluttering, set in motion by the current of air from the closing door. A cobweb.

  Glory was known to foam at the mouth when confronted by a cobweb, invariably followed up by her trademark high-pitched shrieking. But, before dealing with cobwebs, I had to clean myself up.

  “Is she sleeping?”

  Still standing upwind, Pan nodded. “Lady Gloryness won’t be up for another hour or two.”

  “Good. Is there coffee on?”

  In the kitchen, I drank a mug of water, then poured coffee into the same mug from the European carafe on the counter. Carrying the coffee, I nabbed my canvas bag from the foyer floor and headed up the curved staircase.

  “Wait,” Pan called anxiously behind me. “She’s still sleeping, and believe me, you don’t want to wake her up.”

  “I won’t. I’m going to start on the guest bathrooms, well away from the Queen’s hive.”

  I chose the bathroom farthest from Glory’s master suite and stripped down. Stepping into a shower spacious enough to hold the entire Lockport High football team, I used the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash from the supply on the built-in shelving. My road rash was pretty well scabbed over, but the hot water stung some fresh scratches from the junipers, including a few where the sun never shines.

  After dressing, I finished my coffee and tied my wet hair back in a ponytail. Then I got out the cleaning supplies. Pulling rubber gloves over my moisturized hands, I set to work on the bathroom, moving on to the other three in record time.

  Until Glory was awake, I couldn’t clean her bathroom or use the vacuum cleaner upstairs. I dropped my carryall near the door and surveyed the cobweb. The aroma of eggs and bacon hit me like an invisible force, and my stomach contracted painfully.

  Pan stood behind me, chewing rapidly and cradling a napkin-wrapped breakfast burrito in one fist. He sniffed.

  “Did you take a shower up there?”

  “Better you don’t know. Then Glory can’t extract the information under torture.”

  The smell of the burrito was torment. But, eating on the job was pushing it, so I didn’t ask for a bite. Pan offered me the object he was holding in his other hand.

  “Here. I thought you might want to get that cobweb right away.”

  I accepted the duster, duct-taped to an old mop handle. Glory didn’t waste money on tools for the help. “Thanks.” I took one last sniff of Pan’s burrito and turned to the waiting cobweb.

  “Wait a minute.” I stepped closer to the corner and looked up. “There’s a spider in there. It’s huge.” I backed quickly away and handed Pan the duster. “Get it.”

  He handed it back. “You get it.”

  “One of you twits better get it.” Glory came up behind us, having silently descended the staircase on bare feet. She was wearing an emerald satin robe over matching pyjamas and looked better with tangled hair and half-awake eyes than I did after my forbidden sojourn in her guest shower.

  “That would be you, Bliss,” she said, in case I had forgotten my place. She looked me up and down but didn’t comment on my wet hair or squeaky-clean complexion. I probably even smelled expensive, thanks to her complimentary skin care products. “By the time you leave, there better not be any spiderwebs in this house.”

  She turned sleepy eyes on Pan, whose cheeks were bulging with the last of his breakfast. “Is my coffee ready, Pan?”

  “Right away, Miss.”

  Pan sprinted to the kitchen. He better have his mistress’s coffee poured and delivered to the breakfast room by the time she got there. Until her eyes were fully open, Glory wasn’t able to drill holes in your brain with them, so I turned into a cleaning machine to get as much done as possible before she swallowed the last of her second cup of caffeine.

  Even with the pole attached, the duster didn’t reach the ceiling. I leaped at the corner, lunging and thrusting, until the web was dispatched. I lost the spider, but didn’t pursue him. Four hours later, I was done.

  Glory’s castle was web-free and gleaming. Even the magazines in the sitting room were stacked with meticulous care. I managed not to run into Glory again, but found my pay on the antique buffet in the foyer.

  Pan accompanied me to the greenhouse to snap pictures of Sif. The pot plants drooped under the weight of their buds and, in an opposite corner, the Berg bamboo stood stiff and lonely. Something about that bamboo almost triggered a thought, but it slipped away and I didn’t have time to think about it.

  On the curb beside my Savage, I took out my phone and checked it. And sighed. Dougal had left four messages. He started yelling the second he picked up.

  “Bliss! Where are you now? You didn’t report in this morning, and it’s critical you stay in touch. I haven’t heard from you since yesterday.”

  “I just took some pictures but can’t get them over to you until I’m through at Fern Brickle’s. Sorry, but I can’t spare the time. I’m due there now.”

  “Bliss, get your ass—”

  I hung up on him and swung my leg over the seat.

  It took me less than a minute to reach Fern Brickle’s bungalow. She greeted me at the door dressed in Capri-length leggings and a long v-necked tee-shirt in turquoise. Silver hair flowed to her shoulders, the layers cut with precision and style. As always, she wore lipstick and eyeshadow in glossy pastels. If you didn’t know she was seventy-eight, you would take her for sixty, tops.

  “Bliss, my dear. Come in. You’re looking very nice today. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Mrs. Brickle. You look great, as usual.”

  The joints in Fern’s hands were swollen and misshapen. Rheumatoid arthritis had taken its toll, and I often wondered how Fern was able to comb her hair or put her makeup on, let alone dress or make a meal. But she managed, and never complained. Her only concession to the disease was someone to clean her house for her.

  “Where do you want me to start, Mrs. Brickle?”

  “About that, Bliss. We’ll have to do things a little differently today, if you don’t mind. You may not know, but I usually have my friends over for a dessert party every Thursday afternoon. Well, for reasons that won’t matter to you, I am hosting it this afternoon instead. Everyone will be here at one o’clock, so if you would just clean the guest bathroom and run the vacuum cleaner over the living room rug, I’ll pay you as usual, and you can do a more thorough job next week.”

  I whizzed through the bathroom, wanting to ask Fern if she needed help dressing, but knowing the offer would not be accepted. The bathroom done, I went to the kitchen pantry where the vacuum cleaner was stored. With my hand on the doorknob, I paused, my head turning to stare at the counter.

  A glass plate was heaped high with chocolate squares, so rich and gooey that the pile almost looked like a pyramid-shaped cake. The icing ran off the tops of the squares and drizzled down the sides. My stomach gave an angry growl. It would no longer be denied.

  I looked around and listened. The only sound came from the ticking grandfather clock in the dining room.

  I considered the plate of chocolate squares. I didn’t see how it could be done. If I took the top one, its absence would be immediately apparent. And if I took one out of the middle section, or the bottom layer, the whole structure might collapse.

  I licked my bottom lip and reached out. Before I could stop myself, a delicious morsel was in my mouth, plucked from the bottom. My eyes closed in wanton ecstasy.

  I hadn’t had sex in so long, I didn’t even miss it anymore. Not until that
moment, the moment when the piece of chocolate heaven entered my mouth and melted on my tongue. Then, I remembered what it had been like when Mike and I were still in love and could hardly wait for class to be over and we were alone, our hands ripping away clothes and our …

  But, given a choice between that moment and this one, I’d have to say, give me another hunk of chocolate square.

  Another piece followed the first, just as wonderful. But the pyramid was listing a little to one side, so I turned the plate around and carefully extracted a square from the opposite side. I popped that one into my mouth and chewed more slowly. What was that, three?

  The pile was still a little lopsided. I was unsure how to straighten it out. Fern would notice if I kept eating her dessert. But, maybe just one more piece from this side and everything would be even again.

  Just as that square was about to follow the first three, I heard Fern’s voice.

  “Bliss? How are you coming along, dear?”

  There was a box of plastic wrap sitting beside the pile of treats. Not wanting to be caught with my mouth full, I quickly tore off a strip of the wrap and wound it around the square. My overalls had a handy chest pocket, and, in no time at all, the little parcel was out of sight. By the time Fern reached the living room, I was plugging in the vacuum cleaner. I was a little worried about the leaning tower of chocolate squares in the kitchen, but I didn’t think Fern would begrudge me a wee snack if she knew.

  And the chocolate was just what I needed. As I finished up the vacuuming, I was feeling great, stronger than I had in days. Sure, it was just a sugar high, but it would keep me going until I could get some lunch at Dougal’s when I dropped off the pictures. He would be really glad to see me, so much earlier than he expected. And I was looking forward to seeing Thor. I really missed that plant.

  Fern was wearing to-die-for jeans and a beaded tunic top. When she paid me, I gave her a hug. She looked a little surprised, but, what the hey, there’s not enough love in the world, that’s what I always say.

  At the curb, it took me a while to get my leather jacket on. I couldn’t get the little thingie in the zipper to stay inside the little hole while I pulled on it. And people kept stopping in Fern’s driveway or on the street in front of, and in back of, my motorcycle. I had to wave at them all. There were the MacPhersons, their dandelion hair drifting gently around their heads. Once Bob was settled in his wheelchair, they gave a friendly wave back.

  Then a man I didn’t know got out of his cute little Yaris. He didn’t wave back, which I thought was rude until I realized he couldn’t take his hands off the two canes that were holding him up. I gave him an extra wave.

  Four or five other people went into Fern’s house. I waved at all of them and most of them waved back. I finally got the zipper up and picked up my helmet. I couldn’t figure out which side was the front. I decided the peaky thing should be at the back to catch the wind and was trying to force it over my ears when a pair of hands pulled the helmet off my head.

  I turned around to give the person what for.

  Bummer.

  Chapter

  NINETEEN

  Holding my helmet under one arm, Redfern said, “Have you been drinking alcohol, Cornwall?”

  “No! ’Course, if I had the time, I would.” I observed the crack in the sidewalk under my feet, wondering how they got all the cracks the same width like that.

  “Explain why you were trying to jam your helmet on backwards.”

  “Seriously? So, that’s why it didn’t fit.”

  He leaned closer and peered down into my face. I stepped back, trying to remember why I needed to avoid this man. Oh, yeah. He was a dishonest cop. He was bent. That’s what the British called it. A bent cop. I liked that word. The British were so descriptive. I smiled.

  “Let’s go at this another way, Cornwall. Have you been smoking something? Anything?”

  “No! I have never smoked something. Or anything, either.” I lifted my face to the sun, feeling its nurturing warmth in every cell of my body.

  He leaned over me again. “What’s that on your face?”

  He reached out a hand and, before I could pull away, he wiped his finger across my upper lip. He looked at the finger for a second before holding it out to me. I jumped back.

  “What’s this, Cornwall? Chocolate?”

  “No! Well, maybe. But I only ate one. Did Mrs. Brickle call you?”

  “What did you eat? Tell me the truth. Was it a brownie?”

  “Hah. If what I ate is a brownie, then may my lips fall off.” Funny thing, my lips did feel kind of heavy, and bigger than usual. I stuck my tongue out and swept it back and forth across my bottom lip. Then I did it to my upper lip. Yeah, my lips were big.

  Redfern didn’t say anything for, like, hours, although his mouth opened and closed a few times. I just waited patiently. Had to, since his car was parked in the middle of the street, inconsiderately blocking my Savage.

  Finally, his lips parted. He had really nice lips for a bent cop. Too bad he was bent.

  “Can you focus here, Cornwall?”

  Somebody else was always telling me to focus. Who was it? Oh, yeah.

  “Listen, Redfern, I gotta go. Dougal is waiting for me and I’m late.” Late for what? Something, though.

  “Dougal can just wait a minute or two longer. Tell me what you ate.”

  “Okay. It was the best, most delicious chocolate square I ever had. Oh, man, it was better than sex. I’d take another one of those over sex any day, even though I’ve been a virgin for more than two years.” I patted my chest.

  “Good to know. Just how many did you eat, Cornwall?”

  I held up one finger. Then, before my startled eyes, a second finger rose. And a third traitorous digit joined the team. “I had one.” I smiled.

  Redfern’s blue eyes raked me from hair to boots. He took off his hat and tossed it through the open window of his car. Good thing I didn’t like bent blond cops. I giggled — that was a good description I just made up. I was almost British.

  “What have you got in there, Cornwall?”

  As Redfern’s hand reached down toward my chest, I tried to lean away, but my back was against his cruiser.

  “Whoa, back it up there, Skippy.” I slapped at his hand.

  “I need what you have in your pocket, Cornwall.”

  “You men are all alike. Only after one thing, and when you get it, poof, you move on to greener pastures, someone older and better connected.” I yanked my helmet from under his arm and tried to put it on.

  Redfern took it back. “Cornwall, pay attention. I’m not after your virtue. I just need that brownie in your pocket, and for you to verify you got it from Fern Brickle.”

  “Listen up. I told you it’s not a brownie, and you can’t have it. It’s mine and I’m going to eat it as soon as I get to Dougal’s. And he isn’t getting any, either.”

  Redfern stepped over to the Savage and turned the key that I had already placed in the ignition, back when I thought I was going to get out of there sometime today. While I stood in amazement, he rolled the Savage over to the alley that ran between Mrs. Brickle’s house and her next door neighbour’s. He parked the bike under a tree and hung the helmet on a handlebar. Rummaging in the saddlebag, he pulled out my jacket and purse and walked back to the curb.

  “Get in, Cornwall. I’m driving you home.” He opened the passenger side of the cruiser and placed his hand on my head.

  “No way.” I wrapped both arms around the window frame and hung on, kicking backward at his knees. “I’m making a citizen’s arrest. You’re going down for this, Redfern, and in case you didn’t notice, people are looking out Mrs. Brickle’s front window.”

  “I noticed. I want them to see this. And if you kick me again, I’ll arrest you for assaulting an officer. Or maybe for being under the influence of a controlled substance.”

  Somehow, I found myself in the passenger seat, and Redfern was speeding away. He stopped on Evening Star Road and bark
ed, “Put your seatbelt on.”

  “No.” I folded my arms. How embarrassing was this? A woman walking her two-pound froufrou dog stared at us. I gave her the finger before recognizing her as a friend of my mother’s.

  While he was reaching across me for the belt, I noticed the back of his neck. It was smooth and tanned, not all wrinkly like some men. But bent! Bent cop.

  “I don’t want to go home. There’s a bear in the woods behind my trailer. I want to go to Dougal’s house.” And I didn’t want to be in Hemp Hollow with this guy.

  “Whatever. Where does he live?”

  When I told him, Redfern made a dangerously tight U-turn in the street and roared back up Evening Star, then careened onto Pinetree before jamming on the brakes in front of Dougal’s. Good thing I was wearing a seatbelt.

  “Whee. That was fun.” Another giggle escaped.

  “Glad you’re enjoying yourself. That’s what we cops are here for, to provide citizens with entertainment.”

  He lunged at me again, but I was able to get out of the car with my jacket and purse before he made actual contact with my chest.

  Sticking my head back inside the car window, I said, “Trying to force yourself on a citizen is not entertaining for the citizen. Why, I’m practically a virgin again, and trying to compromise a virgin cannot be within the code of honour for a police officer.”

  Then I remembered that this particular police officer possessed no code of honour, and added, “You’re still young. You have a chance to turn your life around, to turn back from the road to perdition. Do it now, before it’s too late.” I gave him a compassionate smile and ran up the steps to the front door.

  The look on his face was forever branded on the memory lobe of my brain. Right next to the lobe that controls the urge to shoot myself.

  Chapter

  TWENTY

  Dougal was in his study, bent over his keyboard.

  “Hey, sweetie,” I called from the doorway, “ready for more pictures?”