What I mean to say is that even the Jehovah’s Witnesses steered clear of this place, let alone casual visitors.
Whoever was ringing that doorbell was insistent. Blaring, banging it over and over, the digital chimes cut in mid-ring again and again.
When it finally stopped, I figured Jennings had it under control. He was good with an intimidating eyebrow arch and dismissive tone. But then I thought I heard some other footsteps, voices getting louder, and I didn’t feel very secure with my wang hanging out half hard.
Back into the bedroom, I scooped up some boxers and a t-shirt, slung them on, and cracked the door to the hall. I was confronted with an eyeful of black silk.
It was Octavia in a robe that barely covered her. She pulled it tighter, tied her belt together, and glanced back at me.
She said, “Cops.”
Right behind her, petite in boyshorts and a tight tank, was Alice. Alice had become Octavia’s new girlfriend, apparently, over the last week. Something had clicked between the two of them—I don’t even want to know how that went down—and Alice had been here all week. Both of them had very active sex drives, so I hadn’t seen either much, but then I’d had my own concerns, what with moving all of my things and sleeping with another man’s wife. I didn’t feel as bad about that as I had expected. Maybe it was because he had cuckolded me first.
Wait…did Octavia say Cops?
“How do you know?”
Octavia put her finger to her lips, then kept her voice low, above a whisper. “Security monitors in the bedroom. Five guys at the front door. Another six or seven have gone around back.”
Around back could only mean one thing: Ocatavia’s greenhouse full of marijuana. I didn’t know what to say. “How did they? Who would’ve told? What’s going on?”
“Shove your tongue in your cheek and shut up. Let’s go.” One final tug on her belt. I was surprised that she didn’t look afraid one bit. The silk was translucent, and she was naked underneath. It barely covered her thighs and shoulders. The woman was a force of nature and didn’t mind using her body as a distraction if it suited the moment. I admired her tenacity.
She led us down the stairs into the entryway, which was always dark like some sort of medieval castle, with gothic art and relics to set you further off-balance if the devil outside hadn’t already done so. So dark that the open doorway in the early morning light was blinding, and I could only see shadowy figures arguing until we were on the ground floor. Then they all became plainclothes cops, in this case “plain” meaning jeans, sneakers, and Edina Police Department pullover Polos. These were definitely drug cops—“cooler” hair, unshaven, younger and hungrier than the murder detectives, but much more tired and jaded than the uniformed cops accompanying them. They wore holstered pistols and holstered cell phones. One guy loitering by the door wore a DEA jacket.
The lead cop had his fists on his hips and was saying to Jennings, “We’re not waiting for anyone. I’m just being polite.”
“Can I help you?”
Octavia got everyone’s attention. Wide eyes, coughs, and an immediate search for something to make themselves look busy.
The lead cop said, “Octavia VanderPlatts?”
“You already know. Can I ask why the fuck you woke me up?”
Alice hung back with me, arms crossed and hair mussed. “This sort of thing happened before?”
I shook my head. “Not that I know of. She’s been growing the stuff for about fifteen years.”
The lead cop turned to Octavia and handed over his warrant. “This allows us to search the greenhouse in your backyard for marijuana, and also your house.”
She scanned the paper, shook her head, and said, “No, no, I insist I have my attorney look at this before anyone looks at anything.”
The cop sighed. “Look, as I was telling Mr. Belvedere, that’s not an option. You allow us to search. If you get in our way, we cuff you. Back of the car. One way or the other, you know?”
She looked past him at Jennings and said, “Call Pamela, make sure she—”
“Hey, hey, wait.” The cop stepped between them, spreading his arms. “What part of what I just said—”
“Make sure she calls this judge first, Judge…Holm, it looks like. Call Judge Holm before coming over.”
Jennings nodded and started for the study, but the lead cop snapped his fingers and pointed. One of his cronies in uniform descended on Jennings, pushing him against the wall and tying plastic restraints on his wrists.
“No!” Octavia was ready to tangle. She took a step in that direction, but the lead cop’s arm went like steel and held her back.
“I told you already. After the search, we’ll see about the attorney. But right now, I’m about to tell my guys it’s fair game. And if you’d like to join your manservant here in cuffs, I’m happy to oblige.”
I promise you, I shielded my eyes just in case laserbeams came out of Octavia’s.
TWO
The cop then glanced towards Alice and me at the foot of the stairs, keeping our mouths shut. He chinned towards us. “Sorry to interrupt your nap, but we’ve got a job to do.”
Octavia stabbed a finger in towards poor Jennings against the wall.“That job involves harassing my help?”
“If they get in our way. Maybe you’d like a female officer to accompany you while you put some clothes on?”
She held steady. “I’m fine like I am. I’ll need to supervise this search of yours, because I’m sure it’s illegal and I’ll need to report all irregularities to my attorney.”
“Are you shitting me? I already told you—”
“Try me, okay? This strong-arm bullshit might work on a lot of your street whores when you’re conning blow jobs off them, but you knew the minute you rolled up to this house that you were going to have some fun. This is your O.J. moment. Some rich bitch getting what’s coming to her, might be a little uneducated in the law, so you keep me away from my attorney and threaten my employees. Look at him.” She waved toward Jennings and his keeper. “Harassing a faggot who didn’t even touch you. Didn’t even resist. All he was going to do was make a phone call until your macho ass decided to play rough. Is that how you’d like to leave your job? Because I’m sure if you keep it up, we can add plenty of other reasons to the list.”
I couldn’t tell if she had called their bluff or wore them down, but the lead cop finally mumbled towards the uniform to let Jennings go, then said, “Lead the way.”
There was her grin, the evil one broadcasting to everyone that this was her house. I had no idea how she was going to talk her way out of what was in that greenhouse, though. I often wondered if she and Jennings had some sort of secret plan cooked up just in case—like a series of alarms so that one could hold off the police at the door while the other pressed a hidden button that transformed the greenhouse from a cannabis paradise into a tropical flower garden through a series of sliding panels and lazy susans. But now it seemed I had my answer: Nope.
Alice, Jennings, and I followed Octavia and the lead cop through the house, while we were followed by two uniforms and the DEA guy. Past the hallway full of Frank Frazetta paintings—originals that Octavia had bought at auction—and barbarian weaponry. Through the kitchen, where Octavia’s new chef Harriet would be working in just over an hour to begin breakfast, and into a back room I don’t believe I’d ever seen before. It was apparently supposed to be a family room, but Octavia had instead filled it with wooden crates and framed art wrapped in paper. There were also several filing cabinets and plastic containers full of paperwork. Probably all leftover research and paperwork from her legal cases, but it somehow ruined the image of her as being above it all.
I had known about the out-of-court settlements she won, most after she and Pamela had demonstrated to the other side what sweet torture they were in store for should they insist on continuing. However, with the luxurious gothic façade, I’d been lured into thinking many of these defendants just gave up after one session with Octavia, th
us giving her whatever she desired. To see the mounds of paperwork, the things she deemed unworthy of keeping at her fingertips but still worthy of shoving into some useless back room, reminded me of just how much effort had gone into Octavia’s pursuit of wealth and power.
Also in this room was a sliding door leading out onto a mostly empty patio slab. Very small and out of place. A wonder she hadn’t had it removed during her first week her. An oversight? An eccentricity? I didn’t really understand.
We kept onward, through the door and into the yard, where the cool summer morning air gave me goosebumps and had me worried that my cock might act up again and rise through the gap in my boxer shorts, especially with Alice in her skivvies. I wasn’t that attracted to her, but she did have a way about her when she wasn’t wearing much.
Octavia bravely stomped onward, right up to the officers in bulletproof vests and ski masks, waiting for the greenlight to storm the joint. She flapped the warrant around like it was a brochure for a tourist trap. “Gentlemen, you will not break anything. If you can’t do this without treating the plants and the building with respect, there will be repercussions in court. Loud fucking sonic booms, understand?”
They looked to the lead cop, obvious confusion in their eyes, and waiting for something. Anything.
He gave them a dismissive wave and a scowl. “What are you waiting for? In! Get in there!”
The cops were about to smash the door in when Octavia shouted out, “Stop!”
They all looked at her.
“Jennings, the key, please. Give them the key.”
Of course, he produced it from his slacks, stepped across to the bulletproofed, ski-masked behemoth, and placed it in his palm.
“Thank you,” Ski mask said.
Then he gave the order to smash it in anyway.
*
We stood around as flashbulbs lit up the greenhouse walls and cops shouted out the different varieties of marijuana Octavia was growing in there. They seemed more impressed than morally outraged. I supposed the trashing of the plants would occur only after they had pulled us all out of the scene. We weren’t sure what they were waiting for.
We found ourselves in a little circle, carefully watched by the cops but still allowed to talk since we most likely weren’t going to say anything illegal, I hoped. I was new at this sort of thing.
Octavia spoke without moving her lips. “Jennings, where is your cell phone?”
“Sorry, it’s in my bedside drawer. You know, it rang last week during that meeting, and you said—”
“Fine, goddamnit, but since when do you ever listen to me?”
His face tightened. “When you threaten to dock a hundred bucks for each ring.”
“Just get her here! Does it look like we can joke around? Who would’ve told them about the greenhouse?”
I said, “How many people know besides us and Harriet?”
“She’s the new girl. And all of the sudden—” Jennings made starbursts with his fingers. “All the sudden.”
“Too sudden, then. Us, Pamela, Harriet, and…maybe the guy who sells me the seeds. Shit, that’s just what I need. Anyone else? Mick, how much do you tell that new bitch of yours?”
I started to defend Stephanie, but what was the point? Then I wondered, if I didn’t defend her, would Octavia think I was the one who told the cops?
Stood there with my mouth open a good twenty seconds trying to think it through.
“I’ll take that as a ‘You’re an idiot.’ Fuck, I’m smarter than whatever you’re trying to figure out, so…eh?”
“No, I didn’t. Maybe I said you smoked it. Instead of drinking. Maybe she smelled it in the room that night. But I’m not going around telling people about—”
She shushed me. My voice had been rising unconsciously. I swallowed the rest of what I was going to say, which was that maybe Alice, still working for the man Octavia had recently humiliated, might be the more likely suspect. If I knew Octavia, though, that was certainly on the front burner in that dark brain of hers, and she was keeping mum for a reason.
Alice slapped at a mosquito on her leg. The cop watching us twitched. Very jumpy. Was that some sort of signal?
Octavia said, “Let’s calm down. They’ll be out of here soon, and we can discuss our options.”
I could tell Jennings wanted to say what was obvious here, but he couldn’t. Neither could I. Did she really not understand that she was going to be arrested? There was no doubt about it, not with the way the cops were handling this. Lots of witnesses, lots of photos, a cop with a video camera, all of them showing restraint and quite a bit of attention to detail. Yes, she was sunk. I’m sure she had the money to wage a legal battle that would cut her a break, and there would be an incredibly hefty fine and probation, but the biggest damage would be her business connections she had fought hard to forge. It would be much easier for them to slight Octavia, who they had never liked much but were forced to respect due to her influence, than someone convicted of much worse but with whom they all enjoyed a few drinks.
We were still deciding if she was delusional or if she actually had the power to stay out of jail when the lead cop finally stepped over to us.
“Excuse me, Miss VanderPlatts?”
“Miss? Like, really?”
“We’re now going to place you under arrest for felony possession and intent to distribute—”
“Wait a minute! Distribute? I’ve never…not once…this is my personal garden!”
I cringed and wanted to shout, Remember, they use that against you.
And soon enough, the lead cop, accompanied by a uniformed policewoman, began reading Octavia her rights while pulling out their cuffs. That’s when the panic set in. Her face drained, and I was looking into the eyes of my friend from college, emotionally cracking from a bad relationship, coming to me for advice although she had already severely damaged the bond we’d shared. The girl inside the woman was still worried about what people thought of her weight. It was the handcuffs that did it, because there was no way one pair would be enough. And maybe not two.
“There’s no need for handcuffs. You think I’m dangerous? You think I can outrun you?”
The lead cop held onto her arm, gripped it tighter. “Please, it’s procedure. We have to.”
“Ridiculous. Look at this house. You know what I can do. You know good and damned well.”
The lead cop said, “Please, Miss.”
The uniformed cop said, “Please, ma’am.”
Octavia’s face was turning purple—so angry, so powerless. There was nothing she could say to prevent this from happening. She could go change clothes, call Pamela, call the governor, stall all she wanted, but those cuffs were going on regardless.
I decided to help.
“Excuse me? Officers? Perhaps we can compromise here. As you can see, Ms. VanderPlatts is in no condition—”
“You want to be next?” The female cop started towards me, hand over the pepper spray bottle on her belt. “Did we ask you?”
I didn’t finish my thought.
The lead cop cuffed one of Octavia’s wrists. “Let’s not make this hard on anyone.”
He tried to pull her other arm back, too, but as feared, it wouldn’t reach. As it was already, Octavia was wincing, seething through her teeth. The cop let out a deep sigh and motioned to the other cop for her cuffs. Two was all it took, but it was clearly uncomfortable and unnecessary. We all tried to look away, but we couldn’t. Our eyes were drawn to Octavia, who couldn’t bear to look at us at all.
She said, “Jennings, go inside and call Pamela now. If any pigs try to stop you, get their badge numbers. Mick, please get Alice home.”
“Um…” I’d been alone with Alice before. We had unresolved issues, let’s say. “Can’t she just hang out here?”
“A favor for me, Mick. See that she makes it home all right. Oh, and Jennings? Almost forgot. Call Harriet and tell her she can have the day off.”
Protesting again would be useless
. I glanced over at Alice, who seemed so interested in what the cops in the greenhouse were doing that she didn’t hear a word of what Octavia had said. Then I turned back to Octavia. Beyond her, coming down from the house, were even more cops. Two guys in white shirts and ties, badges on their belts, and two uniformed officers right behind them. One of the ties was holding another warrant.
Our eager beaver lead cop got a little agitated at this.
“Jesus, Marvin, we have it under control already. It’s my case anyway.”
The one called Marvin, kind of doughy with one of those half-assed military haircuts—no sideburns, still some left on top, pointed at Octavia. “Who’s this?”
“She owns the place. She’s the one growing the pot.”
“What pot?”
Lead cop waved a wild hand back at the greenhouse just as another flurry of flashbulbs went off. “That! All that! You see it?”
Marvin looked down at his warrant again, cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Freddy, but I’m not here for that.”
Freddy shook his head. “How the hell…we’ve been planning this for a week. Who got their cables crossed?”
Octavia turned to me, mouthed, A week?
Marvin shrugged, then looked at all of us, the rising sun having brightened our misery, making the silly decision to march outside in our pjs and undies ever more embarrassing. Plus, I still had to piss. Really bad.
Marvin said, “Mick Thooft?”
Shit.
I thought for a second he might be a process server, here to shove papers in my face about the divorce or the house or some claim the Provost had cooked up in order to exact some revenge. But wait, these were actual police. It had to be worse than that.
Leave it to my friends to point me out, Alice and Jennings both motioning towards me, saying, “Right here, detective.”
I raised my hand like I was in grade school.
The uniforms they brought along, both young and both with faces like steel—no idea what they were thinking—stepped through our chummy circle and flanked me, then one slid behind me, cuffs at the ready. He took my wrist, clanked the iron on, and then the other. I didn’t resist. I was light as a feather.
Choke on Your Lies Page 19
