Corpse Flower: A Cornwall and Redfern Mystery

by Gloria Ferris

  Prodding Rae with my foot, I said, “Get up. Get up, now.”

  She lay as still as the plaid mound only a few feet away. You’re fucked, Cornwall.

  I weighed my options. There wasn’t even one good one.

  I opened my mouth and screamed. Lowering my head, I charged the animal. I’d go down swinging. Nobody would ever say that Bliss Moonbeam Cornwall gave up without a fight.

  My flash of courage didn’t last long. I closed my eyes as I swung the stick, expecting yellow fangs to sink into my calf or throat. Again and again I swung, once connecting with something solid, maybe the animal, maybe a tree. When I opened my eyes, I was swinging at the air. The beast was gone. I quickly turned in a circle, watching for those glowing eyes, listening for snarls. But even the rank odour was dissipating.

  Rae was stirring, whimpering softly. I helped her up, saying, “We have to get out of here. Hang on to me.” I avoided looking at the body on the ground and Rae was too confused to notice anything. She let me lead her back to the trail and from there we stumbled to my trailer and locked ourselves in.

  I took out my phone. “Okay, who do we call? We can’t let that animal run loose in the woods. Now it’s killed someone.”

  Rae moaned and leaned back on the bench, her head rolling back and forth.

  “I’m so scared. How did everything get so bad?”

  “Don’t ask me,” I said. “Maybe we’re both dead and in hell. But I have to call the police. No choice.” I punched 911, all three digits this time, quickly before I changed my mind.

  Police cruisers, ambulances, and even a fire rescue truck cluttered the rocky, weed-filled area behind Hemp Hollow. Thankfully, we hadn’t been asked to lead the first responders into the woods to show them the body. The forest wasn’t very big and with my general instructions they found it within minutes.

  Now, uniforms of different colours ran in and out of the trees. This may be just my jaded opinion, but it looked like they were enjoying themselves. Except for Redfern. He was casting frequent scowls at the large rock where Rae and I had planted our butts.

  We were told to stay there and not move by Thea Vanderbloom, one of the first to arrive at the scene. She hadn’t asked for many facts, leaving the interrogation to her boss. Redfern had just left us, after wringing out every last detail of our ordeal. He didn’t seem impressed by our actions, and just barely stopped his eyes from rolling when we described heading into the woods armed with sticks. He confiscated Rae’s phone and reiterated Thea’s instructions to stay put. Then he swaggered off to take charge of the show.

  A white Ministry of Natural Resources truck pulled in and a large man in a windbreaker and ball cap got out. He exchanged a few words with Redfern and was handed Rae’s phone. I really hoped Rae didn’t have any photos of her clients on that phone.

  Redfern and the MNR guy disappeared into the trees. Now that I wasn’t under Redfern’s scrutiny, I turned my back and pulled out my own phone.

  I called and explained to Dougal why Sif’s morning report hadn’t been delivered yet.

  “But I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I assured him.

  Did he hear any part of the account of my dangerous adventure or commiserate with me for enduring such trauma? Not Dougal.

  “Honestly, Bliss. If it’s not one thing, it’s another with you. All I asked is for you to focus for no more than a week. And I’m paying you a lot of money for your time. I thought you were more reliable. Well, get your ass over to Glory’s as soon—”

  “Go fuck yourself, Dougal.” I clapped the phone closed and jammed it back into the inner pocket of my jacket. It was warm in the sun and I started to take it off. Then I remembered what I had hidden in another pocket. I poked my finger in, to ensure the photograph was still there.

  That reminded me that I was supposed to pay my property taxes today. And, didn’t I promise Fern Brickle I would come back this morning and finish cleaning her house? Did she know I helped myself to her desserts? And that Redfern was onto her? Although, if he was involved in Lockport’s pot trade, it probably didn’t matter who knew what.

  My head swam. Without a program, I could no longer tell the good guys from the criminals. For instance, Fern Brickle was the sweetest, most giving woman in town. She was on every benefit committee from Toys for Tots to the Food Bank. But she served pot to her friends.

  Was it a co-op thing? Like Glory’s circle, did Mrs. Brickle and her friends take turns growing the weed they used at their afternoon teas? Everyone I saw getting out of their car at her house yesterday was either elderly or infirm. Some were both.

  Rae elbowed me, and I looked up to see Redfern bearing down on us again. He hooked his thumbs on his belt and waited. I stood up, not enjoying such a height disadvantage. But he was still a foot taller. I sat down again.

  “Well, ladies, you might be interested in what Chad Ames from the Ministry told me.” He put one foot on the rock beside me.

  “Chad is almost certain that you saw a coywolf, a product of crossbreeding between coyotes and wolves. These hybrids are showing up in urban areas since they have the wolf’s aggression but the coyote’s lack of fear of humans. The size is larger than a regular coyote as well. They prefer hunting in packs, but this one seems to be a loner. At least, we hope it’s not part of a pack.”

  “I sure hope so, too. It stinks so much, I don’t think I could stand more than one,” I said.

  “Yeah? Perhaps it’s diseased or has an infected wound. The Ministry is going to try to capture it.”

  “I hope they shoot it. It killed a person. Do you know who it is?” I asked.

  “Yes. He had identification on him. Fitzgerald Corwin. Ever hear of him?”

  Beside me, Rae gasped. Both Redfern and I looked at her, but she shook her head and tried on a smile through shaking lips. The smile failed and Redfern gave her a speculative look.

  Trying to distract him, I said, “Fitzgerald Corwin? Never heard of him. Is he local?”

  “No.” He turned to Rae. “Miss Zaborski? I believe the paramedics would like to check you out, to make sure you aren’t in shock. If you wouldn’t mind stepping over to that ambulance?”

  Rae left so quickly she nearly came to grief on the stony ground. But, once leaning forlornly against the back door of the ambulance, she was soon surrounded by several medical personnel who, it must be assumed, cared deeply about her condition. Her cheerleader looks might have had something to do with their solicitous attention. No one seemed concerned about my shock.

  “I want a private word with you, Cornwall.”

  “We’ve had nothing but words in the past few days. What is there left to say?”

  “Do you remember yesterday’s conversation?”

  “Certainly, I do.” I thought for a minute. “A lot of it didn’t make sense, though.”

  “Exactly. So, I’d like to start again. But, before we begin a discussion that will probably end in yet another argument, I’m suggesting very strongly you find someplace else to live. Hemp Hollow is not safe for an innocent like you.”

  “Hey, watch your language, Chief. It’s been some years since I was an innocent.”

  “Yesterday, you told me you were a born-again virgin. Remember that?”

  “Well, aren’t my cheeks red as tail lights?”

  “They should be. Now, let’s move on to the brownie you ate at Fern Brickle’s house.”

  “It wasn’t a brownie. And let’s stop beating around the bush, Redfern. I don’t know what your game is, but what I ate in Mrs. Brickle’s kitchen did not have a label on it. Therefore, I can tell you nothing. So, now, ask about something else.”

  “You’re tough, Cornwall. I can’t decide whether you’re a lamb in a fox run, or you’re in this mess up to your pretty little neck.”

  Choosing my words carefully, something I should do more often, I said, “You’ll have to be more specific. I’m involved in several personal messes at the moment, but I don’t believe any of them are of an illegal nature.”<
br />
  That sidetracked him. He didn’t want to hear about my personal life, but if I had to, I was prepared to go on at length about my living conditions, marital woes, cousin commitments, and so much more. Anything to stay off the subject of drugs and drug dealers.

  Removing his hat, Redfern looked toward the trees and said, “That wasn’t so smart, Cornwall. Confronting a wild animal like that.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Rae was unconscious at my feet, and the wolf was only a few yards away. I couldn’t leave her and back away from it. And if I’d run, it would have chased me down, or killed Rae.”

  “I guess you did what you needed to. You’ve got guts, Cornwall, but you’d drive a saint to drink. And your mouth is world class.”

  “Good to know I’m skilled at something. Now, if we’re done here, I have to go into town and pay my property taxes.”

  “I have a feeling we’ll never be done, Cornwall.”

  Redfern’s eyes were fixed on a spot over my shoulder, and I turned to see the Weasel standing a few feet away, probably here as mayor to see what all the fuss was about. Had he heard my comment about paying my property taxes? Didn’t matter. I stroked my jacket with its secret treasure and gave him a polite smile. Then I turned away and left him in Redfern’s official hands.

  Right now, I needed to address a more pressing dilemma.

  Chapter

  TWENTY-THREE

  Manoeuvring the Savage through the field littered with vehicles was difficult enough without the possible humiliation of tipping the bike in front a dozen men to consider. Not for the first time, I wished I was six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier.

  Redfern ambled through the field looking at the ground with his hands in his pockets. I stopped the bike beside the ambulance where Rae was hooked up to a blood pressure cuff. Two firemen and three emergency responders were standing so close to her, they were undoubtedly hogging her oxygen supply, and one comely youngster was actually holding her hand, pretending to take her pulse. It was a safe bet I wouldn’t have earned as much attention if I’d been torn limb from limb by the coywolf. I winced, reminded that Fitzgerald Corwin had met that very fate.

  I had to clear my throat a few times before Rae noticed me.

  “Hi, Bliss. Are you going somewhere?”

  “Things to do, places to be. Do you want to stay with me tonight? I thought we could be company for each other, especially if they haven’t found the, well, you know.”

  “Yes, I’d love that, Bliss. It’s pretty scary in that trailer right now.”

  Murmurs of empathy and support followed this statement. Oh, to be twenty-five again. And curvaceous.

  “Right, then. I’ll be back about nine o’clock and knock on your door.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Redfern coming my way. I remembered my bike was supposed to be parked in Mrs. Brickle’s alley. My tires kicked up some stones when I took off, but I didn’t look back to see if any hit him in the eye. Boy, wasn’t I the wild child?

  As I approached the exit to the concession road, I was forced to stop. A Harley Fat Boy blocked my way. Snake.

  The abundant chrome on the low-slung bike shone like mirrors. I noticed the bike had showroom exhaust pipes, not the customized straight drag pipes that infuriated lovers of peace and quiet and earned the biker regular fines for noise infractions.

  His bike might be immaculate. Snake was not. Tendrils of greasy black hair had escaped from his helmet and hid a large portion of his face, the rest covered by wrap-around shades. The helmet sported a death’s-head embellishment and too many nicks and dents to count. Either Snake collected a lot of pebbles as he rode, or he got knocked off his bike a lot. Remembering the rough treatment I suffered at his hands the night Rae was attacked, I hoped the latter.

  “Yo, little sister. What’s going on over there?”

  The gravelly voice was affable enough, but he wasn’t charming me.

  “A wolf killed a man in the bush behind Hemp Hollow. And ate him.”

  If Snake was unnerved, he concealed it well.

  “Who’s the guy? Anyone we know?”

  “Nobody I know. Fitzgerald Corwin. Do you know him?”

  “Nope. Nice bike you have there, for a girl. Ever ride a Harley?”

  I snorted. “A Harley? That’s so yesterday.”

  Snake appeared not to have heard the insult. He rolled his bike forward a few feet and I squeezed by him, missing his shiny chrome fender by inches.

  I stopped at the mail kiosk near the main entrance to Secret Valley. A couple of flyers for pizza specials and upholstery cleaning sat atop one white legal-size envelope from the Town of Lockport. Throwing the flyers into the trash barrel, I ripped open the envelope.

  The Cemetery Board no longer required my services. Would I please drop my key to the office washroom at the municipal offices at my earliest convenience?

  Crumbling the letter, I threw it into the barrel. So be it. The Weasel wouldn’t know what hit him.

  The silver Beetle was still parked outside the Super 8 Motel. Again, Chesley was bobbing up and down between the seats. On impulse, I pulled the Savage into the parking lot and stopped beside the vehicle.

  “How are you coming with the seats?” I asked Chesley, removing my helmet. He was bent over in the back seat and his bony butt seemed to be rocking in time with the heavy metal music blasting from the CD player.

  Chesley’s head shot up and he whirled around. In one hand he held a cleaning cloth, in the other a large bottle labelled “Odour Gone.” He reached over and turned down the music.

  “Miss Cornwall. Bliss …” Chesley swallowed audibly and his prominent eyes blinked at me. A crimson flush dotted his cheekbones.

  “Is that stuff working?” I asked. I could smell skunk from where I sat.

  “It’s coming. One more treatment should do it.”

  “Great. Chesley, have you and your mother found a suitable property yet?”

  “We’ve looked at a couple more with Miss Simms, but none of them are exactly what we’re looking for. The property you showed us is the most promising so far, though.”

  “Well, let me know. I’d be happy to show you around again, if you want a second look.”

  “Wait, Bliss. Mum and I were wondering about another piece of land across the road. You can see it from the Barrister property. The one with a river flowing through to the lake. Miss Simms said you owned it.”

  Now I noticed Chesley was wearing a red sweatshirt and green flannel pyjama bottoms. Who dressed this boy? I preferred him in black. Before I could ask why he wanted to know about my swamp, a sound not unlike a sonic boom echoed from a nearby unit of the motel.

  “Chesleeeeee!”

  A sharp pain pierced my left eye and my feet left the ground. The bike wobbled. It was touch and go, but I managed to get my toes on the asphalt again before the bike went over.

  “There you are, young man.” Ivy stumped over to us, in flowing black shift and signature red lipstick. “Oh, Ms. Cornwall. You’re here, too.”

  “I just stopped by to see how Chesley was doing with the leather cleaner.”

  Ivy didn’t look thrilled to see me, but in real estate school they told us to get used to rejection. I was already there, and just smiled.

  “What do you think about my son running over that skunk in the middle of town, Miss Cornwall? We saw it earlier in the day when we stopped to speak to Miss Simms. Disgraceful that such a horrible thing was allowed to rot there.”

  “I’m sure Chesley did his best to avoid it, Mrs. Belcourt. Apparently, there was some sort of internal dispute about jurisdiction.”

  “Disgraceful,” she said again. “We may sue.”

  “Mum.” Chesley’s eyes pleaded with me not to rat him out. Obviously, Ivy didn’t know the whole tale.

  “If you’re serious about suing, Mrs. Belcourt, I would suggest you go out of town to retain counsel. Our lawyers in Lockport aren’t so hot.”

  “Hmmph.”

&nbs
p; “Mum.”

  “Well, Ms. Cornwall, Chesley has work to do here. I’m not setting foot in that vehicle until the smell is gone. We’ll be touch in due time about the property we looked at.”

  Dismissed, I turned the bike to leave, but not before catching Chesley’s mouthed, “See you later.”

  Something was up with Chesley, but I forgot him and tried to concentrate on Sif and Thor. Watching those two ugly plants for symptoms of impending ovulation or, conversely, signs of collapse, was getting old. Whatever they were going to do, I wish they would just do it, so I could collect the money and never have to see them or pot plants again, ever.

  The whole damn town was growing pot, or eating it, or both. And the one person who was supposed to be putting a lid on it was up to his badge in the whole business.

  Chapter

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Sif had shot up another foot during the night. The interior of the spathe glowed blood-red and displayed a ring of tiny cream-coloured flowers at the base. These were the male flowers, according to Dougal, and underneath would be another circle of pink female blossoms. I walked around the planter, snapping a dozen pictures of the inside of the spathe.

  While waiting for Pan to edit them, I sniffed. Something. I glanced at the other plants, ripe buds hanging, but it wasn’t the pot. I couldn’t place it.

  “Pan, do you smell something in here? Is there a dead mouse somewhere?”

  He took a perfunctory sniff and handed back the camera. “No. Smells okay to me.”

  I shrugged. Maybe it was just a memory of the coywolf in my brain. As we left the greenhouse, I said to him, “I need to talk to Glory for a minute.”

  “I don’t know, Bliss. She’ll just be finishing up breakfast.”

  “What, you mean two cups of black coffee? Never mind, I know the way.”

  Glory was sitting in her breakfast room at the back of the house, flipping through a magazine. The floor to ceiling windows overlooked terraced flower beds, with the pine forest as a backdrop.