The tall greenish spadix pretty much looked like a giant you-know-what. No wonder Victorian mamas kept their daughters away; mustn’t make the young ladies titter, you know. But I bet the mamas couldn’t take their own eyes off the tumescent splendour of the spadix.
The spathe was fully open now, the top curled back to display the glistening deep-burgundy interior. The plant was so unlike anything else in nature that if someone told me an alien spore had hurtled through deep space to land in Dougal’s solarium and grow into this strange, beautiful creature, they’d get no argument from me.
But the smell! Holy shit what a stink. That it was coming from Thor was not in question. Orchids couldn’t produce a strong scent if they tried. And we all know what marijuana smells like. Well, maybe I shouldn’t make such a sweeping statement, but, believe me, pot can’t drop you to your knees or make your head spin.
My streaming eyes locked on the open solarium windows — no doubt the escaping fumes had precipitated the emergency call to the police — and I dove for the nearest one.
On the way, I noticed a couple of things. First, Dougal, Chesley, and a third person were suited up in gowns and shower caps, like Glory, but these three took things to the next level. Their surgical masks were pulled up and they wore goggles. All had on latex gloves, and Dougal was brandishing a scalpel, or an X-acto knife — it was hard to tell in the brief glimpse I had on my way to the window.
There were no marijuana plants lined up against the windows. None. They were all gone. I sent an orchid flying when I draped my body halfway through the window, but I didn’t pass any mature cannabis plants.
The air outside the solarium was only marginally sweeter than inside, and I was missing whatever was going on in the room behind me. I pulled my body back in and, with my hand over my nose, glanced into the far corners of the room. No tall green plants sagged under their burden of ripe buds. I knew better than to believe Dougal would stuff them all into green garbage bags and leave them out for trash pickup. They were close by.
Dougal resembled an insane scientist, not a big stretch. He held his hands up like a surgeon, the X-acto knife in one hand, the orange shower cap sliding down his forehead to rest on the top of his goggles. Chesley’s shower cap was fuchsia, which did not co-ordinate with the eyes threatening to pop off his face into the cups of his goggles. Neither of them was smoking, but both seemed less concerned than they should have, facing an armed police officer, so they were likely stoned.
The third gowned figure was female by shape, but anonymous behind the getup. Here was Dougal’s girlfriend, no doubt, and I would unmask her identity before I left if I had to rip away her mask to do it.
Dougal did not seem to notice Redfern, who was mute for once, his hand hovering near his gun. No, Dougal only had eyes for me.
“Bliss, have you got the pollen? Give it here.”
He took the pail from my unresisting fingers. I forgot I was holding it.
He picked up a black marker and wrote something on the pail, then placed it carefully on the floor beside the concrete planter.
Only then did he seem to realize we had company. The music ceased abruptly.
“Oh. Hello. Is there something wrong?” Behind the goggles, his eyes were clear and centred. So, not stoned.
Redfern’s eyes were streaming, but they darted everywhere in the room, searching for the source of the stench.
It took a couple of tries, but he managed to choke out a few words. “Mr. Seabrook, we have had a report of a putrid smell emanating from your premises. The smell of decaying flesh is how it was described.”
“It’s my Titan Arum, Thor.” Even through the mask, I could hear the pride in Dougal’s voice.
“Uh huh. Care to explain what’s going on?” Redfern finally gave in and wiped his face.
“Sure. When a Titan Arum blossoms, usually at night, the spadix, that’s this tall structure here, heats up. The heat releases the smell, which is made up of sulphur compounds, and allows it to be carried farther afield. In the plant’s natural habitat, the odour attracts flies and this increases the chances of pollination. In some cultures, the Titan Arum is referred to as the ‘corpse flower,’ since the odour mimics the smell of rotting flesh. I’m surprised Bliss didn’t tell you.”
“Tell him?” I screamed. “You didn’t tell me! Yesterday, when I mentioned the smell, you ignored me. So don’t go telling people I knew, you moron.”
Dougal tugged his mask down, then quickly pulled it up again before mumbling, “Well, now you know.”
The fumes were making me dizzy, or maybe it was rage at Dougal’s arrogance. I staggered closer to the Titan’s container and stopped cold.
“What have you done to Thor?” I asked. A neat square, about six inches by six, had been sliced into the base of the spathe. The interior was mostly pink with a row of cream on top.
“I’m preparing to dust on the pollen you just brought from Sif, and I’m collecting Thor’s pollen for Sif. I’ll have to make a few more holes. Ches and I are also going to dust some of Thor’s own pollen on a few places and then wait to see which pollen works best. Glory’s going to do the same at her end. We’ll keep—”
“Yes, all very interesting,” Redfern interrupted, coughing between words, “but how long will this smell last? You’re gassing this whole end of town.”
“Oh, did one of my neighbours complain? I think I’ll call around and ask everyone on the block to come over and see Thor. They can watch me pollinate.”
“It’s after midnight,” I pointed out.
“But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I should have called in the Press, but at least I have it all on camera. Ches is taking photographs, and I have the video camera going.”
“I suggest you don’t alert the neighbourhood, but Mr. Sutton next door might appreciate a call.” Redfern sounded rather nasal, like he was trying to talk through his nose and breathe through his mouth. Good luck to him; it wasn’t working for me. Even my stomach was burning and the tears were trying to wash my eyeballs out.
Redfern appeared to have had enough of alien plants and mad botanists. He turned to leave, but just as I thought we were home free, Simon stuck his head out of his cage. It was a miracle the bird hadn’t croaked from the stench. No such luck. He seemed fine, chipper even, as he fluttered to the floor.
Then, clear enough that I recognized my own voice, the bird shouted, “Pass the grass, please.”
“It’s that fucking parrot,” Redfern observed with a stunning grasp of the obvious. He looked at me. I shrugged.
“Pass the grass!” Simon screamed again. Surely my voice never sounded that shrill.
Just when I believed the worst day of my life couldn’t get any worse, I spotted an inch-long frond of Cannabis sativa leaf lying on the floor between Simon and Redfern.
Chapter
FORTY-SEVEN
“The bird is just learning to talk,” I said, edging closer to the leaf. “He uses someone’s voice and makes up absurd stories. Ignore him.”
I planted my foot casually over the fragment of greenery. If the solarium didn’t smell like an overripe corpse, Redfern would have spotted it first, and, thanks to Simon, I would probably be blamed.
To my relief, Redfern left without further comment, but not before giving me one of those “I’m watching you” looks on the way out. Strange how we communicated so well without words. I waited until the front door slammed, then reached down and picked up the leaf.
I walked over to Dougal and handed it to him “You should have told Redfern the address of the other Titan. If one of Glory’s neighbours calls the police over the smell, Redfern will be pissed. He’s running out of patience.” And his reaction when he saw Glory’s fine crop of cannabis would be nothing I wanted to witness, but I didn’t tell Dougal that.
He shrugged and bent to pick up an aluminum pail from the floor. “I didn’t think of it, and I don’t have time to call her now. I have to harvest Thor’s pollen, so you can take it over to her. You can w
arn her then. Now, stand out of the way, will you?”
I backed up a pace. “What happened to your … you know? Where is it?”
Chesley handed him a makeup brush. Dougal twirled it over the cream-coloured male parts, and I watched copious small specks fall into the pail he held underneath.
“My crop? I started to think about the odour Thor would produce and decided it would be prudent to move it. Turns out I was right. You led the cops right to the door.”
“First of all, Dougal, I’ve been warning you for days to get rid of your pot. And I didn’t bring Redfern. He arrived the same time I did. You should have warned me about the smell, which, by the way, is not getting any better.”
“And it won’t improve for another twenty-four hours. Go sit outside on the front steps and wait if you find the odour so offensive.”
“So, where’s your pot? I don’t want to accidentally find it in the pantry or kitchen cabinet one fine day.”
“It’s nowhere you will stumble across it.”
I gave up. Who cared, anyway? Then I looked over at Chesley and happened to catch his eyes blinking with guilty precision behind his goggles, like Morse code.
“It’s in the back of your Volkswagen, isn’t it, Chesley?”
“No!” Chesley moved closer to Dougal as though for protection. Dougal elbowed him aside and continued flicking his brush over Thor’s male blossoms.
“How did you get the pots in that little car? Redfern walked right past the Beetle.”
Chesley took umbrage at that question. He said, huffily, “The containers are all stacked neatly beside the garden shed. The plants are in bags.”
“So, are you planning to hang the plants from the shower rod in your motel room to dry? Is your mother into toking, too?” I couldn’t decide which one of them was the bigger idiot, my cousin who grew the stuff openly in his home, or Chesley who was planning to drive around with it in his car.
At the mention of Ivy, Chesley gave a full-body shudder and edged closer to the mystery woman. I turned my attention away from Chesley.
“Hi. Can we introduce ourselves? I’m Bliss Cornwall, Dougal’s cousin. And you are?”
Dougal looked up from his brush and bucket. “Get lost, Bliss.”
I’d had enough of him for one day. “Fuck off,” I replied, and turned back to the woman. I waited expectantly.
She pulled her goggles up and the mask down. “It’s me, Bliss. Holly.”
Holly Duffett? From the Second Hand Rose Shop? She was Dougal’s girlfriend? I was rendered speechless for a minute.
Her husband was a successful real estate developer who was throwing up high-end condos and McMansions all along the shores of Lake Huron, from Tobermory to Goderich.
No wonder it was such a big secret. Then I reminded myself it was Not My Business.
“Okay, well, good luck.” I started to walk to the door to sit on the front stoop as suggested.
“Wait, Bliss.” Holly put out a gloved hand and stopped me. “Dougal, honey, I think it’s okay if we tell Bliss.”
“She’ll blab all over town, but it’s up to you, Hol.”
“She won’t. She’s family.”
Dougal and I glowered at each other at that statement.
“Maybe we could go outside, Bliss?”
“Let’s.”
A door led from the solarium to the backyard. Light from the windows allowed us to locate a pair of deck chairs on the patio, and we pulled them closer. Thor’s odour reached us there, too, but at least it was bearable.
I said, “Look, Holly. You don’t have to tell me anything, really. What you and Dougal have going is your own business, and I’m making a real effort not to get involved with other peoples’ lives. It’s just that, with the agoraphobia this past year, he’s needed me. In a way, I feel like the mother of a small child, not knowing if it’s the right time to let go.”
“I do understand, Bliss. Dougal would not have been able to get through this period in his life without your help. He still can’t leave the house for more than a few minutes at a time, but he resents the fact he needs help at all, and takes it out on you. I know you two have a sibling relationship. You fight a lot, but care for each other deeply.”
“Well, sure.” Dougal and I had been raised almost as brother and sister, but he wouldn’t take a bullet for me. And vice versa.
“Anyway, I want to tell you about our relationship.”
“Please don’t.” I had heard enough from Simon’s squawking and didn’t want further details.
Holly laughed. “I mean, how we met and where it’s going, and all that.”
“So, how did you meet?” A house-bound agoraphobic would be the last man on my to-do list. On the other hand, you couldn’t misplace him.
“Elise Boudreau called the shop about six months ago and said her employer had been going through the house and had gathered a lot of clothes and furniture together from his late parents. I stopped in to have a look and decide what the shop could resell. There was an immediate and very strong attraction between us.”
Enough of that. When I got to know her a little better, I would suggest she put the parrot in another room during her intimate moments with my cousin.
I said, “Got it. Understood. But, what about your … um, husband?”
“Our marriage has been over for a long time. I know Harvey has a mistress, and I’m not sure why he hasn’t left me yet, but …”
“Holly! Do something, now. Find an honest lawyer, not in Lockport, and make sure you get a fair settlement. Otherwise, you’ll end up like me!”
“Bliss, I know. I’ve spent the past year trying to arrange my affairs. I’ve got quite a bit stashed away in a private account in my name, but I know Harvey has a lot more. I don’t want to wipe him out, just ensure I can go back to school if I want and can invest enough to live on when I’m old. I’ve been scanning financial records and bank statements, anything I can find around the house. But I have no access to the business records.”
“Never mind the honest lawyer. You need a shark.”
“I have an appointment with a divorce lawyer in Toronto next week. I want to hit Harvey with a subpoena before he has time to hide our joint assets. Watching you struggle these past couple of years has taught me the value of awareness and stealth.”
“Really? I taught you that?”
“Well, I didn’t want to get blindsided, like you were. Harvey is probably arranging his business so it looks like he has no money on paper. I’ll just get the house and a portion of our investments, but that’s fine. That’s all I want.”
“I suggest you go for his throat.”
“Anyway, I’m very fond of Dougal, and we’ll see where fate takes us. As soon as he’s able to travel, and my divorce is started, we plan to take a cruise. Just to see how we get along, away from familiar surroundings.”
An agoraphobic, even a former one, on a cruise, with open skies and endless water? I’d sign on as a deckhand to see that.
“Sounds fun,” I said to Holly. “Before I forget, I’m sorry I borrowed your skirt the other day. I was in dire need of some clothes and found it in Dougal’s closet. I’ll return it as soon as I can get back into my trailer.”
“I couldn’t believe it when you came in the store wearing that skirt. I was afraid my face would give me away.”
“I’m just not that bright, Holly, as you’ll soon learn.”
“You’re the bravest woman I know,” Holly replied. “You could have given up years ago, but you’ve kept on fighting for your rights, and you inspire me to do the same.”
Our situations were nothing alike, but, heck, I wasn’t often admired, so I let it ride.
Dougal shouted through the open window, “Bliss! I’ve gathered the pollen. Get it over to Glory right away. Don’t stop for anything.”
I took the metal pail, and the stench emanating from the window surrounded me like a cloud of decaying ectoplasm. I called to Chesley, “If you don’t call your mother and let
her see Thor blossoming, she’ll never forgive you. Just my opinion.”
Before heading to Glory’s, I walked around the house to the front door, still unlocked. In the kitchen, I foraged through the refrigerator. It was bare except for an empty milk carton and a plastic-wrapped slice of pizza. I sniffed it and decided I couldn’t tell if it was edible due to Thor’s body odour enveloping the kitchen. Hoping the green spots were olives, I slung the bucket of pollen over my arm and hit the sidewalk.
I felt like Little Red Riding Hood trotting off to the wolf’s lair. For some reason, with that analogy in mind, I remembered I hadn’t told Redfern about seeing Snake outside the cemetery.
Snake was still at large. And I had to wonder why Redfern turned up at Dougal’s house in response to a nuisance call when he should be out hunting Snake. Maybe he was simply overtired and showed bad judgment. Or maybe … Doubts concerning Redfern’s motives hit me again. Maybe he was deliberately giving Snake time to escape. I felt more sad than angry at the thought.
I stopped and looked around at the quiet streets and misty darkness. Maybe it had been a mistake to leave my bike on the street in plain view of …
What if Snake was still in Lockport?
That was enough to take the skip out of my step. I started running, and didn’t stop until I reached Glory’s door. I looked back at my Savage parked at the curb as I rang the doorbell.
Pan answered this time, dressed in black pants and white smock.
He yanked the lime green shower cap from his head when he saw my glance.
“It’s totally you,” I said.
“Finally. The Royal Pain has been ripping strips off me ever since you picked up Sif’s pollen. Give it here.”
I passed over the pail. My job was done, and a thousand dollars was almost in my bank account. If the swamp deal and the Barrister house sale both fell through, at least I could pay my rent for the next couple of months. The thought of returning to Hemp Hollow made my stomach flip.
“Her Surliness said to remind you about Monday. You promised her three days a week, starting Monday.”
I was tempted to shove the shower cap past his smirking lips and down his throat, but, instead, I said, “Pan, do me a favour? Do you see my bike parked on the other side of the fence? Would you watch from the door until I drive away?”
Corpse Flower: A Cornwall and Redfern Mystery Page 26
