Coco du Ciel

by Elise Noble

  Coco picked at the edge of the laminate on the table. Nerves or boredom? It was hard to tell, but Rhys was beginning to wonder what the point of this story was.

  “What does this have to do with Coco?”

  “All in good time, lad… That’s the problem with the younger generation—you kids have no patience.” And the older generation had no sense of urgency. “I wouldn’t say no to another cup of tea.”

  “I’ll make it,” Coco offered.

  Good plan. Then Rhys could keep Albert talking.

  “The Frenchman…?” he prompted.

  “Ah, yes. Remi, that was his name. He was studying the effects of classical music on transpiration across different species. Fascinating stuff. Did you know that a walnut tree will literally weep for Bach?”

  “I can’t say it’s a fact I’ve come across.”

  “What do teenagers study in biology these days? All that newfangled genetics? It was a sad day when botany disappeared from the curriculum. Anyhow, I was looking forward to reading Remi’s thesis, but then the accident happened.”

  “Accident?”

  “With the coco du ciel tree. The female tree bears fruit every four or five years, and it takes months to ripen. Did you see the specimen in the lounge?”

  “Uh, that dark brown thing in the corner?” Rhys had figured it was some kind of wood carving. He’d knocked on it with his knuckles and it had been solid. How had its successor shattered when it hit the ground? A crack or two, Rhys could have understood, but not smithereens.

  “Isn’t it magnificent? Back when Remi was spending time in the greenhouse, there was another fruit growing. It was around a year old at that point, still green, same as the one that broke last month. And it suffered the same fate.”

  “It broke too?”

  Albert nodded. “One night when Remi was alone in the greenhouse.”

  “So maybe it just happens, them falling from the tree? You know, like apples?”

  That would actually be a relief. Perhaps the broken fruit had been nothing to do with Coco at all? Possibly she’d wandered into the greenhouse for some other unknown reason?

  “I don’t think so. I had to hack the first one down with a machete.”

  Good grief. The thought of Uncle Albert waving a machete around was quite terrifying.

  “So what are you saying? That he sabotaged it?”

  “At the time, I didn’t know what to think. Remi left a note saying he was sorry, that it had just fallen down, but I never saw him again after that day. He simply vanished. I always feared he’d been involved in an accident—his phone was out of service, and when I wrote to the company that funded his research, they claimed they’d never heard of him.”

  “Did he finish his study?”

  “I have no idea. If he did, he never published the results in any mainstream journal.”

  “Did you try looking on the internet?”

  “Oh, I’m not good with that stuff. Email’s about my limit.”

  That would explain the dust covering Albert’s keyboard, and he seemed to have been using his DVD drive as a cupholder.

  “I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with Coco.”

  “When Grandma Alice told me about the legend of the coco du ciel trees, I thought it was a bunch of hogwash. So did she, truth be told. Trees that bring the dead back to life? That’s something out of a storybook. But now…”

  “Now what?”

  “Now I’m not so sure.”

  A chill ran through Rhys, and it wasn’t due to the temperature in the house because Gary had gone out and Hashim had turned up the bloody thermostat again.

  “Why would you say that? I mean, it’s crazy.”

  “Because that last night with Remi, I’d got up to use the toilet when I heard the side gate slam shut. Usually it’s just the wind, but there’d been a few burglaries not so long before. Ragamuffins breaking into sheds, mainly, but Vera Dalrymple forgot to lock her back door and a thief swiped her handbag from the hall table while she was watching Emmerdale.”

  “Was it a burglar?”

  “No, it was Remi. And he had a woman with him, all bundled up in a blanket.”

  The chill turned into full-on ice as Rhys processed his uncle’s words. There’d been a second mystery woman in the greenhouse?

  CHAPTER 15

  A WOMAN BUNDLED up in a blanket—now, that sounded remarkably familiar. Under the table, Coco crushed Rhys’s hand in a death grip. The blood was being squeezed out of it, and one of his fingers made a cracking noise. Had they shared the same thought? Rhys managed to free his thumb, and he stroked it over her knuckles, trying to soothe her and think logically at the same time.

  “You can’t possibly think the legend’s true?”

  Uncle Albert sighed. “I’m saying I don’t know what to think. Something strange happened in my greenhouse that night, and the only person who knows for sure what went on is Remi Leroux.”

  “Remi Leroux? That’s the Frenchman’s name?”

  Albert nodded. “At least, that’s what he claimed. Who knows whether he was telling the truth? All I know is that he’s rich, because he paid me the money he promised for the study. Fifty thousand pounds.”

  Fifty grand? Flipping heck. “Are you serious? He paid you that much for playing music to plants?”

  “To trees, and yes, it was very generous of him.”

  “You think I’m dead?” Coco whispered. She’d turned completely white.

  “Clearly you’re not dead now, my dear. But the legend…”

  “It’s bullshit, that’s what it is.” Rhys thought back to his mother’s words about her brother: Albert doesn’t live in the real world, everything revolves around bloody plants. Half the time, he’s away with the fairies. She hadn’t been far wrong, had she? The old boy had gone completely doolally. Or perhaps he’d been drinking? Rhys recalled the half-empty bottle of Scotch on his uncle’s kitchen counter—Albert was fond of a tipple, despite his complaints about young people and their lack of self-respect. “Trees can’t just create people out of thin air. It would go against every biological principle.”

  “I’m only telling you what I saw.”

  “Remi Leroux probably had a girlfriend who popped over.” Given the right music on a moonlit night, a bottle of wine, and a blanket, a tryst in the greenhouse might be quite enjoyable. Risky, but if Leroux knew Albert went to bed early… “That’s a far more likely scenario.”

  “Then how do you explain your friend here?” Albert waved a hand at Coco, and Rhys wished she’d stayed upstairs. Hearing the ramblings of a man who’d watched one too many episodes of The X-Files couldn’t be doing her psyche any good. But Rhys was unable to answer the question.

  “We’re still looking for Coco’s family, and they’re human beings, not plants. Surely if Remi Leroux found some random woman wandering around in your greenhouse, the first thing he’d do would be to ask you if you knew her?”

  “You didn’t.”

  Touché.

  “That was different. You weren’t there.”

  “You could have phoned me.”

  True. “I figured you’d be pissed about the nut. Sorry, the fruit. The drupe.”

  “I was. I am. But if it fell because of the legend…”

  Albert glanced at Coco, who hadn’t moved a muscle in the last two minutes. What must be going through her head? Would she judge Rhys for being related to a conspiracy theorist?

  “Wait… You don’t honestly think…what, that Coco came out of the damn fruit?”

  “Well, it was big enough.”

  Rhys put his head in his free hand. How was he meant to respond to that? Facts and logic didn’t seem to be making much of an impression on Uncle Albert, unless… Rhys wriggled his hand free from Coco’s and pushed his chair back.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To get my laptop.”

  Without thinking, he leaned over and kissed her on the head, a gesture that should have
worried him because it felt entirely too natural. But he had bigger concerns today, like the fact that his only living relative had lost his fucking mind.

  “Who’s that old dude in the kitchen?” Hashim asked as Rhys hurried through the living room.

  “Not now, okay?”

  Upstairs, Rhys grabbed his laptop plus a sweatshirt for Coco. Her hand had been cold and clammy, and he didn’t want her to catch a chill. Another visit to the GP was something they could both do without.

  Albert was halfway through his second cup of tea when Rhys opened up a browser and typed in “Remi Leroux botanist.” Half a dozen results popped up, but none of them were actually about a botanist named Remi Leroux.

  “What was the company Leroux was affiliated with?”

  “Hmm, I forget. It was years ago now. Bio-something?”

  That didn’t sound hopeful, but Rhys tried searching anyway. “Remi Leroux bio” brought up nothing useful. There had to be a way to find the man. Albert was right—Leroux was the only man who truly knew what had happened in the greenhouse that night, and Rhys needed him to share. How else would he stop Albert from filling Coco’s head with nonsense?

  “Let’s assume Leroux lied about some things, if not everything,” Rhys mused. “Given his sudden departure and subsequent disappearance, that doesn’t seem an unreasonable position to take. Uncle, what do you know for certain about him? I mean, are you sure of his name?”

  “Remi? Well, yes.”

  “Why? Did you see it on official paperwork? A driver’s licence? A credit card?”

  “None of those things, but he wore his wife’s wedding ring on a chain around his neck, and their names were engraved on the inside. Remi and Cambria. I remember because it was like Cumbria, but with an A. Why would he lie about that? And he was certainly knowledgeable when it came to botany.”

  Rhys tried again with the search engine—Remi and Cambria. Nothing useful, but when he added “mugging,” a slew of results popped up on the screen, all for the same story. He clicked on the first article, which was in French, but Google translated it for him.

  Today, the town of Villance is in mourning after the death of a local philanthropist. Cambria Klein lost her fight for life after an altercation with an armed mugger outside Le Louvre. Police believe her killer was attracted by a Chanel watch and a diamond necklace, both of which were later found discarded near the scene. An eyewitness said Mrs. Klein attempted to kick the mugger, and then “all I heard was screaming.”

  The assailant has yet to be caught, but police are hopeful of apprehending the suspect. A large reward has been offered for any information leading to an arrest.

  Cambria’s husband, Remi, has been one of Villance’s most generous benefactors, funding the construction of the new museum and the children’s activity centre as well as tackling homelessness on our streets. The reclusive Kleins made their fortune as the major shareholders in RK Biotronix, the largest global pharmaceutical company still in private hands. A spokesperson for the family asked that they be allowed to grieve in peace.

  A picture of Remi and Cambria Klein in happier times accompanied the article. Remi was in his early thirties, which probably seemed young to Uncle Albert. Handsome, Rhys supposed, but not particularly striking. Cambria, on the other hand, was beautiful. Smooth pale skin, a curtain of blonde hair that hung to her shoulders, high cheekbones, and an eye-catching smile. She’d certainly turn heads, and it seemed she’d done exactly that in Paris. Rhys angled the screen to face his uncle.

  “Is this Remi?”

  The colour drained out of Uncle Albert’s face, and worse, he clutched at his chest.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I-I…”

  “Do you need an ambulance?” Coco asked. “Does anyone in this house know first aid?”

  “I-I-I’m fine, son. Just my angina playing up. But…but…” Albert leaned closer to look at the screen. “Yes, that’s Remi. And I could swear that’s the woman I saw with him outside my house.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Well, it certainly looks like her.”

  “Wasn’t it dark that night? How did you even see her face?”

  “There was a full moon, and she looked right at me.”

  “Maybe she was similar, but it couldn’t have been the same person.” Was it creepy getting involved with a woman who looked like your dead wife? Yeah, it was a bit. “Cambria Klein died seven years ago, according to the date on this article.”

  “But the legend…”

  “Forget the legend. It’s a fairy tale. Next thing, you’ll be seeing Little Red Riding Hood skipping through the greenhouse with Bigfoot.”

  “A fairy tale? Let’s hope so, eh? Because if Remi had mentioned that he was interested in the coco du ciel trees, I’d have passed on Alice’s warning.”

  Beside Rhys, Coco stiffened. Surely she couldn’t believe this rubbish either?

  “What warning?” she asked.

  “The Karaza told Alice never to attempt a resurrection more than one lunar cycle after death. If Remi’s wife died three years before I met him, then he should never have gone near those trees.”

  “And what did the Karaza say would happen if somebody didn’t listen?”

  “I forget the details. Something about mixed-up souls? Alice said it didn’t much matter because she wasn’t going to start playing around with the supernatural. To her, the trees were a souvenir from another adventure, nothing more.”

  “What if…” Coco’s voice cracked. “What if my soul’s broken?”

  Rhys wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Your soul isn’t broken, sweetheart. It’s just a silly story. Great-Grandma Alice probably made it up.”

  Magic trees? No wonder she’d been sectioned. Although the part about Remi Klein was interesting—what weirdo would spend fifty grand to visit a greenhouse? And why had he used a fake identity?

  “Your great-grandma was fond of a good story, I’ll give you that,” Albert said. “Did your mum ever tell you about the dodo Alice saw in Mauritius?”

  “Didn’t dodos go extinct hundreds of years ago?”

  “In the seventeenth century. Yes, yes they did.”

  “So I think we can all agree that Alice might have been adventurous, but she was also a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Do you have to drive back to Wales this evening?”

  “Just to Herefordshire.”

  “What about the plants?”

  “My regular girl finally got back from that sponsored bike ride, so she’s taking care of them. I’m going to stay with my old pal Dickie for a night. He runs a market garden now, although his daughter’s gradually taking the place over.” Albert glanced at his watch. “I should get going.”

  “I’m sorry about the fruit.”

  “You and me both, lad, you and me both. Let’s hope the next one fares better, eh? Although I might not be around to see it.”

  Rhys hated when people talked like that. His mum used to do it too, joke about her own mortality, but it had been no laughing matter.

  “I’m sure that’s not true. Do you want another cuppa before you leave?”

  “Perhaps just the one…”

  CHAPTER 16

  WHILE COCO DOZED fitfully that evening, Rhys couldn’t resist the lure of Google. Remi Klein was nothing short of a genius. He’d started at Harvard two years early and aced his PhD in molecular biology by the time he hit twenty-one. His professors described him as “a prodigy” and “a young man with the power to revolutionise the field of genetics.” At twenty-three, he’d taken the helm of RK Biotronix following his father’s untimely death.

  One life, two tragedies. How had the deaths of both his father and his wife affected Klein? And what the hell had led him to Uncle Albert’s greenhouse? Had he been suckered in by myths about the trees as well? Could there be any truth to the story?

  No.

  No, no, no.

  It just wasn’t possible. At this rate, Rhys would turn into Hashim, who loved to h
ang out on the internet with the tinfoil-hat brigade. Even though Gary took the piss out of him mercilessly, Hashim still wouldn’t make a call on his mobile without a “brain guard” he’d bought on eBay clipped to his ear. Hey, perhaps Rhys should ask him about the damn trees?

  Speaking of which… He searched various permutations of “coco du ciel” and “Karaza.” Crikey, those guys were bloodthirsty. Assuming Alice hadn’t made up the entire story—and a total fabrication seemed unlikely because there was no denying the trees were in Albert’s greenhouse—her survival had been a miracle. Most people who ventured into the tribe’s territory never made it out. The Brazilian government had declared the place a no-go area, both to protect the Karaza from diseases brought by outsiders and to protect would-be explorers from having their heads mounted on pikes. Aerial footage on YouTube showed a long, narrow valley, a slash between two rainforest-covered peaks, and that valley was filled with the distinctive spiky foliage of coco du ciel trees. A dozen half-naked men gathered in a clearing, and as the plane flew overhead, they hurled spears at it. Nice.

  Rhys watched Coco as she fidgeted in her sleep. Part of him wanted to find out everything about her, but the other part, perhaps the bigger part, just wanted to move on and enjoy the future together as best they could. What if there was some way of her officially claiming refugee status, as the doctor’s receptionist had mentioned? It wasn’t as if the authorities could send her home, was it?

  Maybe the best option would be to put the past behind them?

  ***

  It turned out that laying the past to rest wasn’t quite as simple as Rhys had hoped. Over the next week, Coco became obsessed with those bloody trees. Every moment that Rhys wasn’t using his laptop, Coco spent poring over search results and making notes. She’d even begun studying genetics. It wasn’t healthy.

  And Rhys could hardly stop her. Sure, changing the password would be straightforward, but that would break the trust between them, which was the last thing he wanted. She didn’t have anyone else. Neither did he, really, only Albert, and the old man wasn’t in his good books right now, not after he’d started Coco on this wild goose chase.