Cornwall and Redfern Mysteries 2-Book Bundle (26 page)

A giant spider chased me through the cemetery and Redfern tried to shoot it. He had a yellow shower cap on his head and was eating a brownie with his free hand. The spider made a loud ringing sound as it snapped its giant mandibles at the back of my fleeing head.

The spider morphed into my BlackBerry that I had placed on the night stand before falling into the twin bed beside Rae's. Without looking at the call display, I pushed the talk button as my one open eye landed on the clock radio. Seven a.m.?

“Yah, what?”

“Bliss? It's me. Can we meet?” a man's voice whispered.

“Do you realize what time it is? And, who are you?”

“It's me, Mike,” he said. “I have a deal for you.”

I bolted straight up in bed. “Tell me what you're offering.”

“Not on the phone. Can you meet me at Timmy's in ten minutes?”

“Be serious. Make it an hour, and why are you whispering?”

“Because I don't want … Okay, an hour.”

I ran to the bathroom, pulling down the hem of Rae's spare tee-shirt to cover my bare butt. Rae had thrown my underwear and tee-shirt into the shower with me when I arrived at the motel only five hours earlier. She made me shampoo my hair three times and I had been surprised at the debris that had washed out — sticks, leaves, a tiny pinecone, and a couple of things with legs.

I felt the underwear and tee-shirt. Damp. And my socks were sodden.

“Was that your ex-husband?” Rae asked from the doorway. Her pink pyjamas had purple penguins barbecuing tiny fish on them and her hair was dishevelled, but I was betting she would look gorgeous in half the time it would take me to get a comb through my one-ten-volt hairdo.

“Yes, he's going to make an offer. I'll have to run back to the trailer and get some clothes. I can wear my jeans and my jacket for the ride. God help me if I have another accident and wind up in the hospital with no underwear or bra. My mother would never forgive me.”

“You know you can't go to Hemp Hollow today, Bliss. Give me those things and I'll throw them in the dryer. There's one in the office. In the meantime, take another shower and wash your hair again. And this time use conditioner. Oh, and I brought a new toothbrush for you, too.”

“You'll make somebody a wonderful wife, Rae.”

She gave me a rueful smile and rushed out with my clothes. Twenty minutes later, I was wrapped in a couple of towels and Rae was French braiding my wet hair.

“This will stay in all day, even under your helmet,” she said, and gave my hair another powerful twist.

“Oww, Rae, let up a bit, will you? At this rate, I won't need a face lift for another forty years.”

She insisted on applying some makeup, just a little blush, mascara, and lip gloss. After I put my clothes on, she handed me my cell and jacket and shoved me out the door.

Chesley had his head inside the Beetle, sniffing the seats. His rear end was encased in black jeans, and was that pollen clinging to the back pockets?

“Just getting in, Chesley?”

He pulled his head out and whirled around, then glanced at the door next to Rae's.

“Yes. I came for Mum as you suggested so she could see Thor blossoming. We just got back and Mum has already gone to bed. I need to catch a few hours of sleep myself. Then …”

His eyes slid to the trunk of the silver Beetle.

I followed his glance. “Are you telling me you shoved all Dougal's plants into that tiny space? No way.”

“Shh.” He moved closer. “I told you we pulled them out of the containers. We shook the dirt from the roots and then compressed the plants as much as possible. There are only two garbage bags in there.”

“Well, what are you going to do with them?” He was as bad as my energy-sucking black hole of a cousin.

“I was hoping you would help me.… Wait, Bliss! I want to dump the plants somewhere outside of town where they can decompose organically. I thought you might know of a safe ditch or woodlot where I can scatter the plants.”

“There are plenty of such places around here. Just find a back road and there you go. How did Dougal talk you into this anyhow?”

“He's my friend. He can't go outside yet, so I said I'd help him out. After Mum came over, we discussed the possibility of Dougal becoming a shareholder in our new venture here in Lockport. So, he's a partner now, as well as a friend. We talked to Glory on the phone, and she says she's interested, too.”

“So, you and Ivy are serious about relocating to Lockport? Are you buying the Barrister house, that's what I need to know? And, what about my wetland? I'm just heading to a meeting now about selling it, so if you and your mother want it, you need to speak up now. Going, going, almost gone.”

“Oh God, Bliss, yes! We decided on the Barrister property the first time we looked at it. The house may have to be demolished, despite what Mum thinks, but the land is just what we want. We're offering one-forty, so if you want to fill out the purchase agreement and bring it over later, we're prepared to finalize it today.”

One-forty. I tried to do the commission calculation in my head, but my body overran with adrenaline and my brain shut down.

“What about the swamp?” I ran my fingers over the inside pocket where the tax receipt reposed, right next to the photo of the Weasel.

“I want to see it, of course. Mum can't negotiate uneven ground with her cane, so she has to rely on my opinion.”

“I understand that, Chesley. And I want you and your mother to have the swamp. You don't know how much I want that, but what do I do if my other client makes a firm offer?”

“Can you stall your client, Bliss? Just for today? I want to see the
Cypripedium parviflorum
in blossom and take a look at the rest of the property first. And …” He paused and lowered his voice again. “I really have to get rid of the bags in the back.” He patted the Beetle's trunk meaningfully.

Who was I to disparage blackmail? I had used it on Glory, and was on my way to do the same to the Weasel.

“Fine, Chesley. I'll see what I can do to stall my client. I'll be back around noon with the purchase papers for the Barrister place. Once you sign them, you and I will take a ride to the swamp to see the lady's slippers, with a little side trip for some organic composting.”

I was ten minutes late and, as I ordered a bottle of orange juice, a fruit explosion muffin, cheese croissant, and a large double double, I spotted the Weasel at a corner table. He was sipping coffee and pretending not to see me.

No one paid any attention to us as I sat opposite him and spread my food out on the table and started to eat. It was his move.

He watched me drain the juice bottle and scarf down the croissant. By the time I took the lid off my coffee and began picking away at the muffin, he still hadn't spoken. He had his lawyer face on, expressionless yet somehow arrogant. Only his rage-filled eyes gave any indication of emotion.

I smiled and plucked another finger-full of muffin. And waited. But my heart was hammering, and I knew this was the most meaningful discussion we would ever have.

Finally, he took a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and threw it at me.

“This is what I'm prepared to give you.”

I looked at the figure written on the scrap in Mike's neat hand. It wasn't a half million — just half of that. I folded the piece of paper once, then again and again, until it was too small to fold any more.

I looked into my former husband's hot eyes and said, “This is less than the house is worth. It doesn't even take into account our investments and savings.”

“It's all I'm prepared to offer you. It's all I
can
offer you.”

“Really? Somehow, I doubt that, but let me think a minute.” I was silent for a few minutes, trying to weigh my odds of squeezing more out of the Weasel. They weren't high, I decided.

I took the picture out of my jacket pocket and looked at it.

Mike said furiously, “Put that away. Don't just wave it around like it was our wedding picture.” His hand inched toward the picture, but I returned it to my pocket.

“To get back to the matter at hand,” I said. “If I accept your offer, it doesn't include the swamp.”

His face darkened with blood, and I was afraid he would throw himself across the table at my throat. Instead, he clenched his hands on the tabletop.

“Of course the fifty acres are included. What do you think I'm giving you this money for?” His voice was filled with restrained fury.

Now I felt anger flood my veins and explode in my brain. I was finding it difficult to think clearly, and had to make a concerted effort to stay calm.

“I was hoping you thought of handing over this money as doing the right thing, not buying something from me.”

“I need the wetland, Bliss. You know I've promised to donate it to the province, and it might hurt my chances of nomination if I have to renege on that promise.”

“That is not my problem, Mike. You can do one of two things: print a retraction in the paper saying the first article was a mistake, that you never meant to donate anything. Or pick up another swamp somewhere else in Bruce County and donate it. I'm sure if there are spotted turtles in my swamp, there will be spotted turtles in other swamps in the county. But you are not buying me off, as well as my swamp, for two-fifty.”

“What will it take to get the sw … the wetland?”

“It will take five hundred thousand.”

“I won't pay it! You're crazy.”

“Probably. But you asked me, and I told you.”

“I'll give you three hundred.”

I considered, but finally said, “Not enough.” I doubted the Belcourts would offer fifty thousand for the swamp, but I did not want the Weasel to have it. I would donate it to the province myself before I'd hand it over to him.

“You ran me off the road Thursday night, didn't you?” I asked. It was quite clear he would do anything to get his hands on that land. Did he try to kill me, or just hope to incapacitate me for a while so the tax deadline would pass and he could scoop up the swamp?

“You're crazy,” he said again, and leaned away from me. He did look shocked, but, then, guilt was not part of his emotional repertoire. “You'd better not say that in public, Bliss. I'll have you charged …”

“Sure. Okay. Let's move on, shall we? I think it's your turn.” I caressed my pocket.

His eyes followed my fingers and he said tightly, “What do I get for two-fifty?”

“As I said earlier, you get to feel like an honest man, and maybe there will be a little bonus in it for you.”

“How do I know you haven't made a copy and plan to post it on the Net?”

“As if I'd even know how to do that,” I said truthfully.

He was silent for a long moment, then said, “Okay, give it here and I'll write you a cheque.”

My heart gave a great leap, but I said, “I have a better idea. We'll leave here and meet at the bank. Once the money is in my account and I have a copy of the receipt, I promise to relinquish the item. How's that?”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Can you think of any other way to do it that doesn't involve a third party to witness the handover of the object in question?”

Of course he couldn't. We were the first customers when the bank opened for business, and it surprised me how quickly such a large transaction could take place. The teller couldn't keep the curiosity from her eyes as she transferred the money from the Weasel's account and deposited it into mine.

The photo handover took place in the alley between the bank and the Mason Jar Cafe. No words were exchanged. After I watched the Weasel walk away in the direction of the municipal building, moving like he had a nine-iron up his rear, I went back into the bank and withdrew two hundred dollars.

My next stop was Elaine Simms's realty office. Elaine was just on her way out, but she asked her sister Rachel to help me fill out the purchase forms on the Barrister property for the Belcourts to sign. Elaine was sure the Barrister heirs would accept the offer without a sign back. When I told her the Belcourts might make an offer on my fifty acres, she promised to help me with that, too, for a small fee, if the need arose.

With the purchase agreement in hand, I stopped at the Chin Chin Restaurant and bought a huge takeout order of Chinese food. It would be early for lunch when I got back to the motel, but I wanted Chesley and Ivy to sign the papers without delay. It was time to show me the colour of their money, or get their city asses out of my town.

And if they did come through, I needed to be fuelled up and ready to go with Chesley for our walk on the wild side. I didn't know which I found more daunting, a pack of spotted turtles, or two bags of wacky 'baccy.

The cement pad in front of the motel units was a scene of chilling domesticity. Ivy, Chesley — and Rae — sat on webbed lawn chairs around a patio table. And the scariest part? Ivy was laughing at something Rae was saying, her red gash of a mouth open wide in hilarity. She thumped her cane on the cement with each guffaw. Even from the highway, I could see Chesley gazing at Rae with rapt attention and, as I drew closer, the expression on his face as she talked to his mother sent me a big uh-oh.

Chesley caught sight of me and jumped up, waving enthusiastically. I wanted to accelerate back to the highway and keep going, but the plastic bag of hot food was burning my thighs.

By the time I parked the Savage and extracted the purchase papers from the saddlebag, Chesley had gallantly produced another lawn chair for me.

“Chinese food for everyone,” I called.

“Ms. Cornwall,” Ivy said jovially, “your young friend here has been amusing us with stories of her clients' exploits.”

The carton of chicken fried rice flew out of my hands into Chesley's lap. Luckily, I hadn't opened it yet.

“You know, Bliss,” Rae said quickly, “my clients at the pool. I'm trying to convince Ivy to come out for some classes when she moves here. The exercises we do are beneficial for people with arthritis, and, with time, Ivy should be able to walk without her cane.”

Chesley's lips opened and closed, but no sound came out. His eyes remained on Rae's face, worshipping her wholesomeness. Rae had done nothing more than brush her hair into a ponytail, throw on denim cut-offs and a black tee-shirt, and apply some discreet makeup over the last of the facial bruising. But that was plenty. She had charmed Chesley with her looks, and Ivy with her personality. It made me wish I had something to work with other than animal cunning and my candid wit. Yeah, I'm kidding, but I do have big brown eyes and killer cheekbones.

We were all silent for a few minutes as we sorted out the containers and heaped food onto our paper plates.

“Bliss, how did your, um, meeting go this morning?” Rae asked.

“It went great. Better than I thought it would,” I replied. I gave her a thumbs-up, and the smile she sent me caused her face to glow. I thought Chesley would start drooling soon. He hadn't taken his eyes from her, not even to look at his fork as he lifted it from his plate.

“Chesley, wipe your chin,” ordered Ivy. “You have orange sauce dripping onto your shirt.”

“Bliss, guess what?” said Rae, seemingly unaware of what Chesley was doing to her in his mind. She was used to it, but I was betting it was new ground for him.

“Couldn't possibly,” I replied, helping myself to more sesame chicken.

“Ivy — oh, and Chesley, too, of course …” She bestowed such a dazzling smile on that unfortunate man that he vibrated in his chair. “… have offered me a job when their new greenhouse is ready.”

I looked up from my food. “As what?”

Ivy's booming voice took over. “This dear child told us about her ambition to open her own day spa someday. But her dream can become reality only if she saves her money for a few more years, so Chesley and I want her to be the first person our customers see, or hear on the phone. We think she would be perfect.”

Ivy's neatly groomed grey hair tickled my nose as she reached across the table and yanked the Mein Feng from my limp fingers. She emptied the container and looked around for more. I handed her the shrimp with broccoli.

“Shit,” I said, looking down at my plate, “this chow mein is full of celery. I hate celery.”

I sensed Ivy's attention shift from the shrimp and settle on me.

“And you, Ms. Cornwall. We shall have a job for you, too. If you would be interested, that is.”

“That's very nice of you, Mrs. Belcourt,” I replied politely as I pushed the celery to one side of my plate. “But I don't know anything about horticulture or botany. I don't even know the difference between the two.”

“We feel you would be a superlative interface bet-ween our suppliers and the company. Someone with a … a strong personality is required to prevent the many mistakes in inventory to which our industry is prone. I feel certain you can keep everything organized for us. And we can teach you everything you need to know about the business.”

The chances of me working in a humid greenhouse, especially one owned by the Belcourts, ranged from fat to slim. But, I couldn't bear to disappoint her, not until she signed the agreement to purchase.

“I had a frank discussion with your cousin, Dougal, and his ex-wife, Miss Glory Yates. This was last night, of course. Both Dougal and Glory are prepared to invest in our new Lockport business, and both Titan Arums will hold pride of place in the new greenhouse. We will be doing some groundbreaking work in attempting to hasten maturity of the new corms.”

“You do know, Mrs. Belcourt, that Dougal and Glory are … well, there's still a bit of tension between them.”

“I suspected that, but I'm sure they can act civilly toward one another on the few occasions they are forced to interact … board meetings for example.”

As long as they don't hold board meetings in a glass-walled enclosure like a greenhouse.

“That's just great, Mrs. Belcourt, but don't you need to buy some property to fulfill this wonderful dream?”

“Of course I do, Ms. Cornwall. Is that the purchase agreement under your chair with a cellphone on top?”

Ivy read every word of the agreement, and only when the sun completed its balancing act on top of the world and began its slow descent to the west did she finally put her signature on the paper. I sighed with relief as Chesley signed in turn and handed the papers back to me.

“Now, are you in the mood for a nice piece of wetland?” I asked Ivy. “I have a special, today only, on fifty acres of prime property along Bird River. It comes complete with spotted turtles and yellow lady's slippers, and there are many other botanical specimens to delight the most discriminating horticulturist.”

“
Cypripedium parviflorum
, Mum,” said Chesley, meaningfully.

Ivy's mouth turned up in a wintery smile. “Lovely. Ms. Cornwall, a firm offer will be contingent on Chesley's report. Chesley, take your camera when you accompany this young lady to the property. If it is indeed a spotted turtle sanctuary, we will honour that, but I want to see for myself.”

Hell, if it made her happy, I'd strap one of the smaller turtles to the back of my Savage and transport it to the motel for her to personally inspect.

“Yes, Mum,” Chesley replied.

Ivy had taken no prisoners, food-wise, and I began to scoop the empty containers into the plastic bag. If Chesley had forgotten his trunkful of contraband, I hadn't. Already, I was sure I could detect the sweet odour of cannabis oozing from the Beetle.

“But,” Ivy put out a knobby, bejewelled hand to stop my cleanup efforts, “Ms. Cornwall, if Chesley returns with a positive report, we are prepared to offer forty-two thousand for your property.”

“Gee, Mrs. Belcourt, I just turned down an offer for fifty this morning. But fifty-five will bring it home.”

“Fifty-one,” she countered.

“Fifty-four.”

“Fifty-two, and that's my final offer.” Ivy held my eyes, and I gave her a nod.

“Done,” I said. In your face, Weasel. I wanted to do the happy dance, but resisted. It wasn't a done deal yet.

But I had won two victories already today — the Barrister house sale and, much more lucrative, my settlement with the Weasel. Not to mention the thousand dollars from Dougal for helping to pollinate Thor and Sif. And the day wasn't over.

Rae interrupted this pleasant reverie. “Bliss, you and Chesley go ahead. I'll clean up here, then I'll make some tea for Ivy. Do you like Earl Grey, Ivy?”

Chesley and I left them to debate the merits of Earl Grey versus the more delicate flavour of Lady Earl Grey. What the hell was Lady Earl Grey, anyhow?

“Bliss,” Chesley whispered to me as we stopped by the side of the Beetle. “Do you know where we can drop the stuff?”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I do.” The idea had popped into my head that very minute. I decided not to tell him I could smell the stuff clearly over the skunk stink still rising from the leather seats. I pegged Chesley as the nervous sort and didn't want him driving up my fender.

“Well, can we do it first, before we look over the property?”

“A good idea, Chesley. The place I have in mind is just north of here, not far at all, so we won't have to pass the police station. After that, we'll circle back and I'll show you the home of the spotted turtle and the
Cypri
-whatsit.”

“Is the dump site safe?”

Dump site? Somebody had been watching too much
CSI
.

“Yes, Chesley. It's safe, it's ironic, and just a little bit naughty.”

“Naughty?”

“Let's ride. Follow me, but not too closely.”