could tell he was serious, so I didn’t laugh. Honestly. This was Lockport. Then I thought of Snake and Ewan Quigley and lost even the desire to smile.
He whispered, “Okay, there’s a person in town called the Baker. The Baker takes private stashes and turns them into gourmet meals to die for. A lot of the influential people in town use the Baker’s services.”
“It must be expensive.”
“The Baker takes a cut of the stash. No money changes hands.”
“Then what does he do with his cut?”
Pan shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m guessing the Baker sells it.”
I sucked in a breath. “Okay, we’ve crossed over into serious criminal activity here.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Now you know how dangerous this whole thing is.”
“I never doubted that. I don’t even like being in the same room with those plants. I keep thinking the feds are going to come smashing through the glass windows with guns blazing.”
“Well, how about me. I have to water and feed the stuff.” Pan managed to look highly affronted at his servitude to the Cannabis Queen.
“Glory must pay you well.”
“I do all right. So, you see what I’m saying here?”
“Not really.”
“We’re both in this, right along with Miss Glory and all her society friends. Maybe more so. Who do you think is going to do more time if they catch us?”
“You. They won’t charge me just for being in the same room, especially if I plead family connections. You, on the other hand, will be kissing your ass goodbye for a few years.” I didn’t add that I could be forced to testify against him. No point branding the words Witness for the Crown on my forehead.
He nodded and stepped back. “I guess. Anyway, remember what they said during the Second World War, ‘Loose lips sink ships.’”
I agreed. I didn’t want to be the torpedo aimed at anybody’s ship.
Chapter
SIXTEEN
The class was performing the Tree Pose, and two of the fifteen participants had already fallen over onto their yoga mats. This pose promotes balance but is not one of the more simple yoga moves. Staring at a spot directly in front helps and, to maintain my own equilibrium, I was concentrating on the sweating nose of the thirty-something woman who had positioned herself in the middle of the front row. She was doing pretty well, although yoga consists of slow movements and if you sweat you’re probably trying too hard.
The perspiring woman crashed to the floor, followed by several others. My line of sight was now cleared to the back row where I noticed that one of the few still standing was a male. As the woman on either side of him fell over in unison, I saw he was wearing black bicycle shorts and matching muscle shirt. This was not a good look for …
Chesley Belcourt. Now he was standing like a lone sapling in a fire-ravaged forest. We both stood firmly, one foot high on the inside of the opposite thigh, arms reaching ceilingward with palms pressed together. Our eyes locked.
Chesley held onto that pose like he could do it forever, but I drew a bead on his eyes. I always won the blinking contest against Blyth and Dougal, and I knew how to stare without blinking. Chesley’s eyes moved away slightly and I followed them. When he moved them back, I was there too. Within seconds, it was over. His concentration broken, Chesley’s left foot fell off his right thigh and impacted the floor. That was good enough for me.
“Okay, everybody. Good session. Now lie flat on your mats for the Corpse Pose. Eyes closed and let your hands and feet open naturally.”
After five minutes, I dismissed the class with a bow over pressed palms. “Namaste,” I said, and they repeated the salutation.
Usually I hit the shower facilities before leaving the centre, but I didn’t want to take a chance on losing Chesley. I retrieved my clothes from the women’s locker room and dressed in the hall, replacing my yoga pants with a pair of jeans and shoving sockless feet into my boots. I was relieved no one saw my tattered French cuts.
Holding my small gym bag, I took up a position in front of the men’s locker room door. I figured it would take Chesley a few minutes to wiggle out of the tight bicycle shorts, an image I didn’t dwell on.
Garnet Maybe came by and handed me a twenty she took out of her pocket. Then she drifted back to her office, not even curious as to why I was loitering outside the men’s locker room.
The country club set attended exercise classes at their exclusive club house, leaving everyone else to drop in at Garnet’s Golden Goddess Spa, so I wasn’t concerned the Weasel’s influence would get me fired here. Still, I had no qualifications as a yoga instructor and I knew that when Garnet found an instructor who did, I was out on my keister. Until that day arrived, however, I just tried not to cause anyone permanent physical harm.
Just when I was ready to storm the locker room and drag Chesley out by his lips, the door opened. His head eased out and, when it swivelled far enough to catch sight of me, he jumped back and tried to close the door again. I put my weight against it, which, admittedly, didn’t do much, but just the gesture seemed enough to show Chesley how silly he was acting.
Holding his canvas carryall to his chest, he stammered, “Oh, hello, Miss Cornwall. Very nice class.” He didn’t move from the threshold.
“Call me Bliss. And may I call you Chesley?” I put on the fake realtor’s smile and captured his elbow, propelling him into the hall and away from the safety of the smelly locker room. “Are you and your mother planning to stay long in Lockport? If so, I’m sure Elaine Simms can show you more suitable properties than the Barrister house.”
Chesley trembled in my grasp. “Well, Mum and I are just trying to get a feel for the area first. And we haven’t totally discounted the property you showed us, Miss Cornwall, ah, Bliss.”
I’ll bet. “You have my card if you want to reach me, Chesley. I’d like to stay and chat a bit longer, but I have an errand to run.”
I released his arm, but, just as he tasted freedom, I asked, “Oh, I do hope you were able to get the pieces of skunk and the smell off your lovely leather seats.”
He made an involuntary gagging sound, then caught himself and swallowed.
“Well, not quite. I’m still working on it. The clerk at Canadian Tire sold me a bottle of solution he guarantees will make the leather smell and look as good as new.”
“Hope that works for you. Personally, Chesley, I had to throw out my leather jacket and my cousin needs to buy a new couch.”
Chesley’s eyes popped a bit more. “Your cousin?”
“Yes, my cousin Dougal. He was on the back of my bike when you ran over the skunk. We got the stuff all over us, too.”
“I’m truly sorry you were involved, Miss, er, Bliss.”
“Well,
