Текст книги "Shroud of Roses"

Автор книги: Gloria Ferris

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CHAPTER

three

Neil and Thea arrived at the station to find Bernie tapping slowly on a keyboard, still wearing his coat. He looked up as the door opened and said, “Got my notes in the computer, Chief. Anything else?”

“Yes, get yourself a coffee and come into my office.”

Neil shed his outer garments and sat down at his desk with his notebook in front of him. When Bernie arrived with his coffee – and his coat – Neil gestured at the other chair and asked, “How long have you been on the force here, Bernie?”

Bernie looked at the ceiling, then the floor. Finally, he said, “Twenty-one years?” He sipped his coffee and appeared to reconsider his answer. Then he nodded. “Yep, twenty-one years this coming May.”

“Okay, you said the old high school was abandoned about fifteen years ago. What else can you tell me about the closing?”

Bernie lifted his coffee to his lips, thought better of taking a drink, reached inside his coat to scratch something, and opened his mouth. “Well, I could be wrong, but seems to me the kids who graduated in June of 2000 came back in October – Thanksgiving weekend – for their official graduation ceremony and a dance in the old gym before it was closed up. Guess the school board didn’t want any partying in the new school. It had already opened that September. September of 2000.”

Neil didn’t care about the new school. “So, October 2000. Party in the old building. Okay, Bernie, thanks. Just print me off a copy of your report before you go, will you?”

“Sure. No problem.” Bernie left the room with more spring in his step than when he came in.

A red light blinked from Neil’s phone. A text from Cornwall:

BN RBBD. ND BG BLND CP. HRY

What? She swore she used official texting acronyms but he wasn’t good with missing vowels.

Thea came in and saw him frowning over the message. “Problem, Chief?”

“Here, can you make out what Cornwall is saying?”

He should have known better.

Thea squinted at the message. “ ‘Been robbed. Need big blind cop. Hurry.’ Or maybe that’s ‘Need big blond cop.’ ” She glanced at his hair. “In which case, that would be you, Chief. Sounds like you should step on it.”

He snatched the phone back and willed his ears not to redden.

“Aren’t you going to reply, Chief?”

“No. Do you have something for me?”

“Lavinia is arranging for the night shift to cover the crime scene. Dwayne is at the site now, helping the guys tape it off. Cutler and Davidson came back, asking when they can get in to finish their salvage operation. They only have until next Friday before the demolition crew arrives.”

“They mentioned that.” Neil thought for a moment. “They’ll have to hold off for one more day at least. If that means the demolition is postponed, as well, then tough shit. Pull up a chair, Thea. Write this down.”

He waited until Thea was settled. “Check missing person reports for the past sixteen years. Young female, that’s all we know. Ask Public Works to search their records for work orders on the building going right back to the school closure. I want to know when the building was last accessed.”

“Anything else?” Thea asked.

“That’s all for you. Get Dwayne to help when he gets back. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to Cutler and Davidson again. I want to ask if there were any indications that the building was breached before they broke through the front doors. Davidson was pretty shook up today. Maybe he’ll remember more tomorrow.”

“Those two live in Dogtown,” Thea said from the door. “Are you going to take someone with you?”

“You think I might disappear and never be heard from again if I go there without backup?”

“Not the way you mean. Dogtown residents haven’t committed any serious crimes as far as I know. But word has it the clan is always looking for new breeding stock.” Thea looked Neil up and down. A brief smile flitted across her lips and disappeared so fast he wasn’t sure he had really seen it. “Just kidding, Chief. Have a good evening.”

Bernie tapped on the door frame. When Neil motioned him in, Bernie dropped his report on the desk and stood silently.

“Yes, Bernie?”

“I just thought of something. You might want to talk to Earl Archman. He’s the high school principal now and taught math at the old building. He’ll have a better handle on the dates you’re interested in. Maybe.”

Neil wrote the name down. “I’ll talk to him, thanks, Bernie. Good night.”

The red light on his cell flashed. Cornwall again:

BNG WRNT

He didn’t dare ask Thea what the shorthand meant. He stepped out of the warm building that housed the municipal offices as well as the police service. The snow had tapered off, but the wind off Lake Huron cut right through him. He fastened the ear flaps on his fur-lined hat. Only four o’clock and it was almost dark.

If there was any place more desolate than Bruce County in the winter, he hadn’t found it. No wonder most of the retired townspeople stampeded to Florida right after Christmas and didn’t return until April. The rest kept a few cases of beer in the fridge, gassed up their snow blower and snowmobile, and waited it out. Some days, he asked himself why he didn’t go back to Toronto where he wouldn’t have to fight his way through mountains of snowdrifts for four months of the year.

Before taking the chief of police position in Lockport three years earlier, he had worked the Drug Squad in Toronto, where he regularly witnessed grisly death and general mayhem. Here, he investigated stolen lawn ornaments, grow ops, highway carnage – and a few murders.

Neil decided to stop at the Chin Chin Restaurant to buy dinner before driving to Cornwall’s house on Morningside Drive. It was a safe bet she wasn’t cooking. While waiting for his order, he tried once more to decipher her cryptic second text message. This time his brain filled in the missing vowels. Warrant. She wanted him to bring a warrant?

He felt a sudden stirring in his groin. When the food was ready, he pushed money into the owner’s hands and hurried to the Cherokee.

CHAPTER

four

I took a cheese puff out of the bag and let it melt on my tongue. Just as I reached for another, someone tried to open the kitchen door behind me. Fortunately, I had locked it earlier.

A heavy fist slammed against the metal. I stood up, taking my time. I ate the last two cheese puffs, savouring every morsel. The hammering continued as I licked the pseudo-cheese off my lips, folded up the empty bag, and dropped it into the trash can. Then, I went to see what all the fuss was about.

I opened the door and looked up. Yes, exactly what I ordered: one big, blond cop. A white carry-out bag from Chin Chin’s dangled from a gloved finger. Perfect.

He leaned his muscular six-foot two-inch frame on the jamb and pulled on the right ear flap of his mad trapper hat. “I understand you’ve been robbed, ma’am.”

“Yes. Yes, I have, Officer. I’m extremely traumatized.” I placed back of wrist to forehead and fluttered my lashes.

“Sorry to hear that. What did the suspect take?” He cleared his throat and unbuttoned his coat.

“All my clothes are gone. As you can see, Officer, they left me nothing but this white, lacy thong.” I opened my robe, flash-freezing my ta-tas and throwing my high beams on.

He blinked at the thong, go figure. “I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am. May I come in and initiate an investigation?”

I held my ground. “Do you have the warrant?”

He moved closer, forcing me to back away. “I don’t need one. I suspect a crime has been committed on these premises. Please step aside and close the door, ma’am. I am officially freezing my ass off.”

“In that case, I guess you can come in.” I locked the door behind him. Taking the bag of food, I set it on the counter.

He dropped coat, boots, and socks on the floor, and kicked them aside.

“My goodness, Officer, you still look terribly overdressed. Here, I’ll help you out of your clothes, but leave that sexy hat on.” The hat flew across the kitchen and landed on the stovetop. “No? Do you need help with the belt?” The thing had multiple safety releases, likely meant to protect a peace officer in a risky situation such as this. I could only find two of them.

He deftly pressed a clasp and sixteen pounds of equipment clattered onto the kitchen table. “Where’s Rae?”

“In Owen Sound with her sister, Christmas shopping. What’s this thing on your belt? Did you get a second gun?”

“It’s a Taser. I’m the only one authorized to carry it.”

I had always wanted to shoot a Taser. “Can I hold it?”

“No.”

“I just want to see how it works.”

“No”

“Just show me …”

“No.” He took off his pants and shirt and covered the belt with them.

I added my robe to the pile. “Wow. You do have a second gun, Officer. I hope you don’t plan to use it on me.” I ran my nails down his chest and watched the muscles contract.

With shocking haste, his Jockeys came off. “That depends. Right now I need to inspect the scene of the alleged crime.”

“That would be my bedroom. It’s this way. I see you’re bringing that gun. Good idea. You never know what may be hiding in the closet. Or under the bed.”

He gave the bedroom a perfunctory sweep with his navy-blue eyes. “Are you sure this is the right place? I don’t see signs of a disturbance.”

“I assure you, Officer, I don’t have a stitch left.” I whipped off the thong and threw it. He caught it and tossed it over his shoulder. “But, I’m so upset, I may be confused. We can look in the bathroom if you like. Perhaps the shower?”

“Later. I’ll search the bed first.”

He tossed the decorative cushions on the floor and threw aside the duvet. Before I could save myself, he swept me up in his arms and dropped me on the bed.

He jumped in beside me and pulled the duvet over us both. “Start at the beginning. Leave nothing out.”

“Well, if you insist, Officer. I’m sure it won’t take long.”

Seven minutes later, we sounded like a couple of asthmatics as we sucked in air and expelled it. I could feel Redfern’s heart banging against my chest.

“You sweated all over my bed. I just changed the sheets yesterday. Now I’ll have to do it again.”

He ran his finger between my breasts, then held it in front of my eyes. “What’s this? Sweat?” His tongue traced a path from the hollow under my ear, along my collarbone. “Yes, I believe it is. The sweat of a thirty-two-year-old female; five foot two inches, one hundred and ten pounds; crazy, multi-coloured hair; deep brown eyes tilted up at the sides, with criminally long lashes that make men go weak at the knees; perfect lips that, when opened, exude words that will one day land her in jail, or find her fleeing from an angry mob of relatives and neighbours; a small cleft in the firmly-set chin…. By the way, what’s your real hair colour?”

“Are you serious? What kind of a detective are you?”

Redfern pulled me closer. “That’s not a given. I’ve seen …”

“I don’t care to hear what you’ve seen. I’ve been thinking. Can you be a fireman next time?”

He drew his head back. “No. I can rustle up a real fireman if you want one. But I refuse to watch.”

“I understand. You want a ménage à trois. I’ll get back to you on that. I’m starved. Are you?”

“I need a shower first.” He checked his watch – what, was he running behind? Twenty minutes to do Bliss, including a shower? “I appear to be covered in orange finger marks. Have you been eating cheese puffs again?”

“Get over yourself, Redfern. The marks aren’t all over you.”

I looked around for my robe before remembering it was on the kitchen table. My white thong hung from the bedside lamp. Since it was used on ceremonial occasions only, and then very briefly, I stuck it back in the drawer.

Redfern pulled himself free of the tangled mess on the bed and headed for the bathroom.

After doing a few stretches to get the kinks out, I called, “I guess I should join you, just to save water, but don’t get my hair wet. I just washed it this morning.”

My ensuite bathroom had a small shower stall, built for one. With two of us in there, we needed to be inventive, but since Creative is my middle name, we were both clean in a couple of jiffies.

Dried and dressed, I retrieved a container of shrimp chow mein from the microwave and dropped it on the table with the other Chinese offerings. I rubbed the blond spikes on Redfern’s head. “So, how was your day, dear?”

“Interesting.”

We ate from the containers, passing them back and forth across the table. I waited for him to continue. When I looked up from eating around the celery pieces in the chicken chop suey, I found him watching me. I knew that look. Can I trust her not to blab this all over town before dawn tomorrow?

“Listen, if the Weasel called to complain that I knocked his bitch’s hat off in the parade, it’s a lie. The same goes for any kids who say I hit them with candy canes. Bald-faced lies. Maybe it’s Dwayne? He got called to a hot shot and nearly ran over some seniors when he peeled away from the parade. Surely, someone complained about that?”

Redfern plunged his fork into a sesame ball. “Sounds like you had an interesting day, too. But mine trumped yours.”

“How so?”

“Promise to keep this to yourself?”

“Look up discretion in the dictionary and you’ll see a picture of Bliss Moonbeam Cornwall.”

“Last week you told me your picture was under flexible. All right, I’ll take a chance. Skeletal remains were discovered in the old high school.”

“No way! I went to that high school!” This is what happens when you waste a day dressed like an elf, handing out candy to ungrateful kids. You miss all the good stuff.

“Tell me, Cornwall, would you happen to be a member of the last class to graduate from that old building?”

“Yes. Have you identified the body?”

“Not yet. There’s not much to go on.”

I shivered. “If it’s female, I know who it is.”

CHAPTER

five

Overnight, a storm had blown in from Lake Huron, dumping seven centimetres of fresh snow on the county. Neil didn’t look forward to the barrage of multiple vehicle pile-ups on Highway 21.

When he entered the station on Sunday morning, it was deserted except for Lavinia, their civilian dispatcher. Her weekend replacement was on maternity leave, and Lavinia seemed in no hurry to line up a sub. He asked her to contact the two officers setting up radar on the highway at both ends of the town limits and tell them to pull over motorists to warn them of the hazardous driving conditions. He had another officer patrolling the residential streets, and a fourth had the unrewarding task of touring the outlying concession roads checking for God knows what because nothing ever happened out there.

Looking out his office window, Neil could just make out the flat-topped roof of the old high school, two blocks over. Snow would have blown in through the doors by now. No harm done to the crime scene. He’d take a last look around later before releasing the building to Cutler and Davidson.

Neil turned to the radio on the windowsill behind his desk. “Danny? Are you anywhere near Dogtown?”

“Just coming up to it now, Chief.” Over the static, Danny sounded morose. Nobody liked the township detail, and the squad car always returned low on gas and full of snack wrappers.

“Good. Tell me what’s going on.”

“The gate is closed across the compound entrance. No tire tracks in the snow. Smoke coming from two or three residences and some outbuildings. Some kids and dogs playing outside.”

“Thanks, Danny, that’s all.”

Sunday morning might be a good time to catch Cutler and Davidson at home. He wanted to talk to Earl Archman, as well. But it was 8:00 a.m. – too early to show up on anyone’s doorstep.

His mind wandered back to earlier this morning, to Cornwall, barely opening one eye when he asked her if she wanted some scrambled eggs. She had stared at him through her tangled hair and blown a raspberry at him. Strange how they could communicate so well without words.

He opened the yearbook she loaned him last night and turned to the pages that showed pictures and write-ups for the graduates of year 2000. Thirteen young faces looked back at him, six boys and seven girls, including Cornwall. Even at seventeen, she was hot. Twelve years of Mike Bains, through university and a bumpy marriage, had stripped away the innocence shining from her eyes in the photo. Unfortunately, time had that effect on most people. He definitely wasn’t the same kid who graduated from university and applied to Police College.

Before he could stroll too far down memory lane to the dark places in his own past, his desk phone rang.

“Hey, Neil, it’s Ed Reiner. Got a minute?”

“Sure, Ed. Are you at the hospital?”

“I’m at home. I sent the bones to Toronto, but I did a quick examination before I packed them up. Anything I say isn’t official, of course, but since it’ll be a long wait for the lab results, maybe I can give you something to work with regarding her identification.”

“Ed, I’ll be grateful for whatever you can tell me. Do you want to meet for coffee?”

“Mason Jar, half an hour?”

Neil spent the wait thinking about the discussion that he and Cornwall had last night. Of the other six female graduates, Cornwall knew the whereabouts and the married names, if applicable, for all of them except one. One girl she insisted would surface in his missing person search.

He left the yearbook on his desk and went to meet Ed. The wind blew straight at him as he descended the steps to the street and walked next door to the Mason Jar. He ordered a cup of coffee and watched the swirling snow through the window until Ed burst through the door in a flurry of energy.

“I just have a few minutes, Neil. Got a patient in labour, only three centimetres dilated so far, but that doesn’t mean anything with a first pregnancy.” He placed his phone on the table and called to the waitress to bring him coffee and a doughnut.

Neil looked at the doughnut. When he ate one in public, he felt like a stereotype. He got out his notebook and pen.

Ed pulled off his orange toque, his scalp shining under the Tiffany-style lamp hanging over their booth. He leaned over the table, ready to bolt if his phone rang. “I mentioned yesterday that the bones are those of a young female of slight build. Okay, after a closer look, I believe she was between sixteen and twenty. Her teeth are exceptional, no cavities, straight, can’t tell with superficial examination whether braces straightened them or she was born that way. I found some long, dark hairs on the skull. The skull, by the way, isn’t abnormally thin, so the depression was unlikely to have been caused by a light tap. By the colour of the bones, remaining tissue, and the condition of the scraps of clothing, she’s been in the locker for years. If the school has been closed for more than ten years, I’ll bet she’s been there that long, or close to it.” He paused to bite into his doughnut.

Neil decided to play devil’s advocate. “A crime occurred. No doubt about that. But this might not be murder. Could be she fell against something, which caused the fracture. Someone panicked and hid her in the locker. We’re waiting for residue results from a washroom sink.”

“It’s possible, I guess. That’s for you to determine. Most importantly, who is she? A young girl like that must have been missed by someone. What about missing person reports?”

“I have Thea working on that. But we may have a possible identification …”

His cell vibrated in his pocket. As he listened to Lavinia’s voice, Ed buttoned his coat and got up to leave. Neil stopped him with a raised hand.

“What exactly is the priority, Lavinia?” He listened for a minute. “Where? I’m on my way.”

He looked up. “If your patient can spare you for a while yet, Ed, you need to come with me.”

Ed pulled his cap farther down his forehead. Behind his glasses, his blue eyes gleamed. “Where are we going?”

“St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. A dead priest.”

CHAPTER

six

The wind off the lake drove the snow straight at my windshield, so I stuck to the speed limit on the highway, more or less. A cop stood beside his snow-covered cruiser, but when he pointed the radar gun at me, I noticed that, for once, it wasn’t Dwayne. I gave him a friendly wave as I passed.

A second squad car slipped out of the next concession road and pulled onto the highway behind me. Lights whirled but no siren shrieked, so I kept driving. A few seconds later, the siren wailed.

Thinking the cruiser was in hot pursuit of a speeder, I steered my Matrix to the shoulder to let it by. It pulled up in front of me. Dorky Dwayne stepped out wearing his stupid fur hat, ear flaps dangling.

I rolled my window down partway. “If you’re collecting for the policemen’s ball, Dwayne, I give at home. Frequently.”

“You were picked up on radar, Bliss. Speeding.”

“I was not speeding!”

“You were going eighty-eight in an eighty.”

“You want to go to court on this one, Dwayne? The judge will fine you for wasting his time.” An SUV flew by us, going at least a buck ten. And it didn’t even move to the far lane as it passed.

“I’m not giving you a ticket. The Chief says we’re to warn people to slow down because he doesn’t want any accidents today. First snow days are always the worst.”

“I know that, Dwayne. Unlike you, I’ve lived here all my life. Okay, consider me warned.” I glanced in my rear-view mirror and screamed, “Look out!”

Dwayne flattened himself against my open window just as an eighteen-wheeler roared by, moving over at the last second. An avalanche of dirty snow and sand slammed against the side of my car. Dwayne glared after the truck’s tail lights and mumbled into his radio. The backs of his coat, pants, and hat were covered in brown mush.

The idiot had a death wish. “That was a little too close, Dwayne. Maybe you shouldn’t stand on the highway. I’m duly warned, so can we wrap this up?”

“I need your driver’s licence and proof of insurance first.”

“For what?”

“For my report.”

I was going to be late for the meeting, and the Demented Duchess would be in fine voice. We tried not to make Glory screech in the greenhouse. The acres of tempered glass over our heads was stronger than regular glass, and could supposedly withstand the sound waves only dogs can hear, but we didn’t want to test it.

I handed over my documents and watched Dwayne scrutinize them closely for expired dates or a fraudulent address.

“How’s the investigation going this morning?”

“Which one would that be, Bliss?”

“How many bodies turned up in your jurisdiction yesterday?” Moron.

“Only one yesterday. Another one today.” He jerked his head up and closed his lips tightly, but once uttered, you can’t return words to the brain, as most of us have learned the hard way.

I stuck my head out the window. “There’s another skeleton? In the high school?”

“Not at the high school, and not bones, either. Here.” He dropped my licence and insurance papers in my lap and walked away. I rolled my window all the way down and called after him, “Is it anyone I know?”

“Probably,” he said over his shoulder. “You know everyone in the county.”

He made an illegal U-turn on the highway and zoomed off.

Just for the hell of it, I did a hundred and change on the highway and made the right turn onto Concession 10 without due care and attention. My back end slid around the corner and the Matrix did a one-eighty, forcing me to perform a U-turn to get back on track. I skidded more slowly onto River Road, but floored it again when I reached the parking lot at the greenhouse. With some fancy hand-over-hand steering and expert braking, I managed to come to a perfect landing between Glory’s brand-new Land Rover (the Corvette spends winters in its own heated garage) and Dougal’s almost-as-new Lexus. Rae’s battered green Echo stood in lonely exile at the far edge of the lot, accumulating a layer of lake-effect snow.

The greenhouse was the Lockport Division of the Belcourt Greenhouse Corporation. It sounded much grander than it actually was, although it was the largest greenhouse structure in the tri-county area – that would be Bruce, Grey, and Huron Counties. The Belcourts assured me it was bigger than their other two greenhouses in St. Catharines and Niagara Falls. Big yawn.

When I first saw the high expanse of endless ceiling overhead, I was sure Dougal, a recovering agoraphobic, would be conducting business from under his desk, if not from home. He had whimpered relentlessly until Ivy Belcourt allowed the contractors to install a false ceiling of some light-filtering opaque glass over the office cubicles. Now, he was here every day, all day long.

I kicked my boots free of snow at the door and shed my coat in the humid anteroom. I heard the sounds of battle even before I opened the door to the foyer.

The grand foyer showcased the two monster Titan arums, now in dormancy, which belonged to Glory and Dougal, as well as other exotic plants in full bloom. I halted in the doorway.

Glory and Dougal faced off. Simon, Dougal’s African grey parrot, was perched on a nearby table, shifting from foot to foot. On Friday, the six-inch pots on the table had been filled with flamboyant petals in off-white with pink and yellow spots. Now the pots held only green stalks and a few thick leaves. A layer of colourful petals covered the floor. Rae flattened herself against the wall and edged toward the door to the plant rooms. She caught sight of me and her expression begged me to help extricate her from ground zero.

I pulled my cell out and took a few shots, one of Glory’s wide-open mouth, her face as red as her hair. She was hitting some new heights decibel-wise. If the greenhouse didn’t shatter now, it could withstand anything, including the earthquakes and tidal waves that accompany a polar shift.

“You can’t blame Simon for everything that happens around here.” Dougal’s mouth thinned into a mutinous slit.

Glory was uncharacteristically profane. “He ate the fucking alpinias!”

The Apocalypse was nigh. I captured a shot of Glory’s eyeballs turning red, a sure sign the Four Horsemen were saddling up. “The Alpinia zerumbet variegata,” she snarled, raising her red-tipped claws into attack position.

The hell with it. I engaged the video and audio features. This opportunity might never come again.

Simon showed no signs of remorse. Now perched on Dougal’s shoulder, he fastened his beady eyes on Glory. If he was trying to appear innocent, he should have spit out the petal hanging from his beak. I moved the phone around the room to capture everything. Maybe this would go viral on YouTube.

“He’s destroying our entire inventory.” Glory used her taloned finger to prod Dougal in the chest. “I vote we take him out in the woods and leave him for the coyotes.”

“That won’t work.” Dougal was standing up to his ex-wife’s assault pretty well, considering she scared the shit out of him. “Simon could outrun a coyote. He could probably outrun a whole pack of coyotes.”

Even I knew that was bullshit.

“Not if his legs are tied together and he’s tethered to a rock,” Glory shrilled. “What’s the use of trying to operate this business if that stupid bird eats the stock before we can ship it out?”

“He doesn’t eat it! He likes the pretty colours of the blossoms and plays with them.”

“Well then, let’s feed him some pretty, toxic plants!”

It was time for a note of reason, before Glory shoved Dougal through the glass wall and the entire structure collapsed on our heads. I said, “Maybe we should call in the big gun. Phone Ivy in Arizona and talk to her about Simon.”

At the mention of Ivy Belcourt, Glory’s mouth upturned into an evil Grinch grin.

“Good idea, Bliss. I’ll email Ivy pictures of the alpinias, and the empty spot in the shade room where the Hoya carnosas used to be.” Ivy had fled south for the winter, but she was capable of tuning up any of the combatants by phone, including Simon.

“I am not pleased,” Glory stated, lowering her nails an inch. “I can’t work like this. If you don’t take Simon home, Dougal, I’m going to sell my interest in this business. It’s the bird or me. Take your pick.”

Before Dougal could pick, and I’m pretty sure I knew which way he’d go, a short man with gelled black hair and agate eyes stuck his head in. “Shall I set the sandwiches out in this … room, Miss Glory?”

A laden tray preceded him as he took a few tentative steps. He wore black cotton pants and white tunic. His tan Sorel boots reached his knees.

“Pan! What are you doing here? Are you a chauffeur now?” I had never seen him in the greenhouse before, or anywhere other than Glory’s mansion, except once outside the local pot dealer’s trailer. And that had nothing to do with me. At the time, I lived next door to the local pot dealer and couldn’t avoid seeing his customers.

Pan was Glory’s houseboy. He didn’t cook, since she seldom ate, and he never did housework, since my cleaning company, Bliss This House, cleaned Glory’s Tudor-style mansion once a week. Other than answering the door, refilling her wineglass, and dodging the missiles she flung during her frequent fits, it was anybody’s guess what he did with his time.

Pan’s interruption sidetracked Glory’s preoccupation with bird-icide. She gave a derisive snort. “Somebody has to serve the sandwiches. Pan, you can take the tray through to the prospective garden room. The meeting will start momentarily.”

Pan scurried away. He had no idea where he was going, but looked happy to escape.

I was confused for a different reason. And suspicious. Glory lived on protein shakes and white wine at home, and she never brought any food to work. I opened the door to the corridor and was hit in the face by air even more humid than in the foyer.

“Hey, Pan. Wait up. Do you know what the meeting is about? And did you bring any booze?”

“It’s not even noon.”

“If things go bad, could you slip me some Riesling in a water glass?”

“I would if I had some. You’re very amusing, Bliss. Regarding the reason for this meeting, well …” He mimed hanging himself with a noose.

I led the way to a long room at the back, home of the future tropical garden. Plans included a waterfall and pond with accompanying bridge, and stone benches to sit on and contemplate the sodden flora. I heard talk of fish for the pond and maybe a few tropical birds as playmates for Simon. Good times ahead.