be Ewan, and he was up to something besides supplying Rae with reefers. What if he was into worse stuff than pot? I didn’t think he had enough room in his trailer for a meth lab, but he might have another location for the actual manufacturing. I hoped so, or else my innocent ass could be blown sky-high while I slept some night.
“Not specifically. Why, do you know something you need to tell me?”
“Of course not. But if you don’t tell me what you’re looking for, how will I know if I have relevant information?”
“Just answer our questions. And right now, I have only one for you. Have you ever seen anything unusual in the cemetery?”
“No, never. Redfern asked me that already. What kind of connection could there be between the cemetery and drugs?”
“Marijuana, Moonbeam. Marijuana. We are specifically concentrating on pot.”
I was confused, but at least she wasn’t asking about Hemp Hollow. I didn’t know how I could possibly steer the police to Ewan Quigley without mentioning seeing Pan dropping something off. A bag of money? Snitching on Pan would lead to Glory, then probably to Dougal, then directly to me.
“There’s no pot growing between the tombstones, that much I can tell you. I’ve groomed the whole place at one time or another, and there’s no pot.”
“Sheesh, Moonbeam, we know the stuff isn’t growing merrily among the epitaphs, at least not out in the open. But, as Neil told you, Julian Barnfeather had a marijuana leaf on his person, and it was fresh, so he came into contact with it shortly before he died.”
“Maybe he was smoking it and he dropped some.”
Thea shook her head. “Are you for real? You don’t smoke it right off the plant, you have to dry it first.”
“So what was a fresh leaf doing in Julian’s hair?”
Her hands balled into fists and she leaned into me. “That’s my question. Do you know the answer?”
I leaned away. Boy, she was getting as cranky as Redfern. “No, I don’t.”
“Okay, just for the record, Ms. Cornwall, did you see anyone approach the maintenance shed at the Good Shepherd Cemetery last Saturday at any time during the day?”
“No, I did not.”
She wrote in her notebook, then sat back.
“It must have been you that left a pink lip print on the back of the chief’s shirt yesterday.”
“It wasn’t my fault. He stopped without warning. How did you know it was me?”
“Elementary, my dear Moonbeam. I know he went across to the library to see you, and he came back with lipstick on him. And, you’re the right height.”
“Well, congratulations, Officer Vanderbloom, I believe you’re ready to sit for the sergeant’s exam.”
“Don’t be flip. The chief was not amused when one of the guys pointed out the lipstick and ventured a guess as to how it got there.”
“Well, too bad. I was hoping his wife would be the first to notice.”
“His wife died three years ago, before he left the Toronto force.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I hadn’t heard about that. Was it an accident?”
“She had a congenital heart defect that she didn’t know about. She got pregnant and for some reason just died in her sleep one night when she was three months along. I didn’t hear this from him, by the way. He never mentions her.”
“That’s horrible. No wonder he’s so … uh …” I searched for a more charitable word than I usually used when thinking of Chief Redfern.
“Rigid?” Thea drained her cup and gestured to the waitress for a refill. “I didn’t know him before, so I don’t know how, or if, he’s changed.”
“Well, you’d think he’d have a girlfriend by now. Somebody to mellow him out.”
She looked directly at me. “What about you? Have you found yourself another man to take your mind off your ex?”
“Hardly. Look at me. I’m one step from living on the street now that I’ve been fired from the library. Even if I wanted a man, which I sure as hell don’t, what man would want me?”
“Ah, Moonbeam, there are plenty of men around who would be interested if you’d just pull your head out of your butt and stop trying to get even with Mike Bains. Get on with your life, why don’t you?”
I was sick of being told what to do, and practically sputtered at her, “You haven’t heard the latest. Look at this.”
Opening my purse, I unfolded both the final notice of taxes and the article from that week’s Sentinel and shoved them across the table.
Thea might have been quick, but she wasn’t that quick. “What am I looking at here? An article about the mayor running for MP, which is no shock, and a tax notice from the Town of Lockport.”
“Read the part about Mike donating fifty acres of wetland to the province. And this notice is for a fifty-acre property I own down by the river.”
Now she got it. “Are you saying he’s donating your land? Maybe there’s another property. Although, if you don’t pay this by Friday, Bains could buy this piece of wetland before it goes to public auction.”
Thea folded up the papers and passed them back. Standing up and placing her cap perfectly straight on her head, she looked out the window at the street and said, “Moonbeam, it looks like you’re finally getting screwed again, but not in a good way.”
Chapter
FIFTEEN
For the first time in two years, I didn’t know what to do with myself. There was no place I had to be. It was too early to make my second trip of the day to take pictures of Glory’s gestating jungle monstrosity. And it was way too early for the yoga class I taught on Tuesday evenings at the Golden Goddess Spa.
Then I thought of something constructive to do. I should be calling prospective cleaning customers. Initially, I had been desperate to fill my empty Wednesdays with a paying job, so, playing a long shot, I responded to an ad placed in the Sentinel by Fern Brickle who required cleaning help four hours a week. Fern, well-to-do but not part of the country club set, had agreed to give me a week’s trial. To my surprise, and probably hers, I turned out to be superb at cleaning. Toilets I wasn’t so crazy about, but they came with the territory.
Glory heard about my success at Fern’s and, when her own cleaning lady quit on her, she begged me to step in. Despite her complaining, I knew Glory never had her house cleaned so thoroughly, but now I wasn’t sure if she wanted me back at all.
Allison must have been watching for me to return for my bike. As I zipped my jacket and tucked my hair into my helmet, she came sprinting down the steps to the parking lot.
“Wait, Bliss. Please, can I talk to you?”
