Forbidden Fruit (23 page)

‘Sue,’ I said.

‘Yes. The older ones know how lucky they are and don’t cause trouble.’

‘Wonderful.’

‘What they could really do with,’ said Daniel, ‘is an air conditioner. That house is murder in the summer. The kids sleep in the garden, under mosquito nets.’

‘We must see what we can organise,’ I promised. ‘An air conditioner shouldn’t prove too difficult to find.’

The trouble with the world is that you forget that there are good people in it. I contemplated the Lakes and wondered how
many more people there were, doing the best they could every day, with scant help and no respect.

Probably quite a lot.

Daniel’s phone chimed. It was a text message. It said:
were ok safe 4 now sorry Daniel Fr say yr ok
.

Madame Loubet, the proprietress and cook, was
of commensurate size. Like many first-rate women
cooks she had tired eyes and a wan smile.

Alice B. Toklas
The Alice B. Toklas Cookbook
                   

It was later. I had showered and changed and at last reduced my core temperature to something lower than the heart of a volcano. I was sipping a gin and tonic. Daniel had returned the text message with another which said
Talyn says come home Mags and Sam send love I would never turn you over to the O’Ryans How is Brigid?
but had not received a reply. He knew the number of the phone. It was his own.

‘Couldn’t you find them with the GPS chip in the phone?’ I asked.

‘I could, but I don’t want them to run away again. I need
them to start talking to me. Oh well, perhaps we could find the freegans and ask them. They’d know.’

‘But would they tell?’

‘There’s another question. Nothing to be done at present. What’s been happening in the mad, mad world of Insula?’

I kissed him on the ear.

‘Oh, I haven’t told you about Mr Pahlevi. He’s here on a revenge mission. He thinks that Meroe cursed his brother, who was eaten by a bear.’

‘Even for Insula that is extreme. Did she?’

‘Curse him? She says not. He was on his way to rape her to prevent her being a witch, as witches have to be virgins according to this tribe’s mythos, when he fell over the bear and it killed him.’

‘Just the Goddess protecting her own,’ murmured Daniel, who seemed drowsy.

‘I hadn’t thought of it that way.’

‘So even bears can wake up cross.’ Daniel yawned. Horatio yawned also. So did I.

I shook off encroaching sleep.

‘It’s not all that funny—he’s going around telling everyone that Meroe is a black witch and an evil woman.’

‘But everyone knows that isn’t true.’

‘Mud sticks. Mrs Pemberthy would believe it instantly.’

‘Yes, indeed. We shall have to find a way to switch him off. Meroe doesn’t believe he is a physical threat?’

‘She utterly refused to be even slightly alarmed.’

‘That isn’t the same thing, you know.’

‘I know. I think she’s scared and won’t admit it.’

I was now yawning fit to break my jaw. It was all Horatio’s fault. A yawning cat is the most relaxing thing in the universe. They ought to be on prescription. I gave up. I yielded. I set the alarm to wake us at six for dinner, and fell asleep.

I woke up ravenous. There was a scent of cooking meat in the air. Pork, if I was any judge. Pork sausages, in fact. And me without a sausage in the house. I felt languid and disinclined to move from my cool apartment. I could always put on all those clothes again and go out to the supermarket, but they didn’t have the sort of sausages I liked. Or I could send Daniel out to Uncle Solly’s, though his sausages would not be pork. Much the best idea.

Daniel went out, taking one of the New York Deli’s white canvas bags, stuffed with the three we had to return. I set the table, found the mustard, and poured myself a glass of cold crisp New Zealand sauv blanc. The light was flickering on the answering machine. I pressed the button.

‘
Give up Shiloh or be damned to everlasting fire!
’ shrieked a voice. No greeting. No ‘
Hello, Corinna, prepare for a nasty message, perhaps you had better sit down
.’ Just a female, perhaps, voice, screaming. I saved the message. There were no others.

Slightly shaken, I gulped my wine, and was sipping another when Daniel returned, hot and sweating but loaded with provender.

‘This way we don’t have to go out tomorrow, either,’ he told me, laying bundles on the table. ‘They say it’s going to be stinking tomorrow. It’s already on its way. The Christmas shoppers are nearing meltdown. Here, Madame has three sorts of sausages, plus salads with the remarkable Uncle Solly dressings, salt beef, smoked chicken and, of course, pickles. And bagels. Baked cheesecake for dessert.’

‘Terrific,’ I said, and dived into the food. Smoked chicken bagel with shredded lettuce, cream cheese and onion, marvellous. Daniel accounted for more than half of the food and then looked sadly at the table.

‘Oh, well, maybe there’s enough leftovers for a little snack. On the other hand, pass me the last of that potato salad, will you, Corinna?’

‘Pleasure. We can cook the sausages tomorrow. Do you have to do anything tonight?’

‘I’m going out with the Soup Run at midnight to see if any of Sister Mary’s people have seen our missing two.’

‘Then before you go out we can have a nice evening, after I play you this creepy message.’

He grinned at me and kissed my onion-scented hand. I love the way he doesn’t mind if I smell of onions. James, my ex-husband and major error, used to forbid me to eat them because he hated the smell. Of course, it was a useful way of keeping him away from me. I have always liked onions and during my marriage I rather specialised in them.

‘Deal, so play me the creepy message.’

I played it. Daniel made me play it again.

‘Man or woman?’ I asked him.

‘Sounds female to me. Pity your prehistoric answering machine doesn’t record incoming numbers. Leave it on there,
metuka
. I didn’t like that tone of voice at all.’

‘Me neither. Shiloh? That’s the lunatic sect the O’Ryans belong to called the church of something and Shiloh.’

‘Holy Reformed Temple of Shiloh. Shiloh is in the Bible. He’s the Child of Peace. Not a lot of peace in that communication,’ he commented. ‘Right, how about an episode of the new
Doctor Who
? I know you have to go to bed at eight.’

‘
Doctor Who
it is,’ I agreed, and settled down for a charming couple of hours before I had to sleep. The Doctor went forth to save the universe—again—from the Daleks—again—and the person seeking Shiloh did not ring back. Despite my nap, I slept well, and when I awoke Daniel was gone.

But there was the faithful Horatio, curled into a neat ellipsoid cushion of tabby and white. It unfolded and demanded breakfast, so I got up. Morning things happened. The phone rang and I let the machine pick it up. I don’t answer the phone at 4 a.m.

‘
Shiloh! Give up Shiloh or burn forever more!
’ screamed my
caller of last night. Making a note to google Shiloh the person when I had time, I washed, dressed, and allowed Horatio to follow me down the stairs to the bakery, which was full of smoke. Jason was visible by the open door, frantically fanning with an empty sack, and the air conditioner groaned, straining to clean the air.

I slammed the inner door in Horatio’s affronted face and ran down the steps. Where was the fire extinguisher? Where, in fact, was the fire? Nothing seemed to be actually burning.

‘It’s all right, Captain,’ yelled Jason. ‘I was trying to dry something in the oven overnight and it caught fire. There’s no danger. Just a lot of smoke.’

‘Well, let’s step out into the alley and let it clear,’ I said. ‘I hope you haven’t set off the sprinklers, because that will put paid to baking until we get everything dried out.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, tears of smoke and regret spilling down his cheeks.

‘No harm done,’ I replied, patting his shoulder. It was too early in the morning to be angry. The smoke was already clearing. Fairly soon we would be able to go inside.

‘Where are the Mouse Police?’ I called. Jason pointed. They had withdrawn themselves as far as the doorway of the Rising Sun Japanese restaurant and seemed to be determined to stay there until the fire was out or the restaurant opened, whichever came first. They might change their minds when they heard kitty dins rattle into the plates.

‘All right,’ I ordered my midshipman. ‘Up on the ladder and start swabbing the walls and ceiling. Shouldn’t take too long. Do the ovens need cleaning?’

‘No, Cap’n, just that one,’ he pointed to an open door. Whatever he had been cooking had been carbonised. I took the whole shelf and left it in the alley. It was still pitch dark but with any luck I might trap that paperboy later. The oven was all right,
just needed to cool down. Smoke vanished and the smell started to disappear under enthusiastic applications of orange-scented cleaner. I felt that I might risk beginning the baking for the day and started loading mixers.

By the time I had all of them humming Jason had stowed the ladder and was helping me. He was the only thing in the bakery which still stank of smoke.

‘Shower and clean overalls,’ I ordered, and he vanished into the bathroom. I put the coffee pot on. The Mouse Police crept back, drawn by the smell of food. They gave me that look which means: we are seriously offended, and if you do anything like that one more time, we will exercise our right to withdraw our labour and move to a place where people appreciate us, i.e., as it might be, the Rising Sun, which might well have a rat problem which needs a solution in exchange for bulk tuna.

I stroked and sympathised, eventually eliciting a reluctant purr or two. I also had been shocked and I put sugar in my coffee and ate a leftover muffin. It was one of Jason’s chocolate orgasms and I could feel it doing me good. Or harm, perhaps.

When Jason emerged, freshly clothed and cleanly scrubbed, I was in a forgiving mood. All that chocolate, probably.

‘What were you trying to make?’ I asked him, holding out a bag containing the leftovers from last night’s dinner. He dived on the salt beef and salads and began to make Dagwood sandwiches, interleaved with gherkins.

‘Beef jerky,’ he replied with his mouth full. ‘It was Sarah’s idea. I prepared it all right, but I must have got the temperature too high or maybe the smoker was wrong. Perhaps the sugar caught fire. I nearly shit myself when I came in and found it all burning.’

‘Yes, me too,’ I commented, wondering how anyone’s jaw could stretch to accommodate the sandwich he was building. ‘So let’s not do that again, eh?’

‘No, it’s a failure,’ he sighed. ‘I’ll have to tell her that it doesn’t work.’

‘Sarah asked you to make beef jerky?’ I said, amazed that I hadn’t noticed this oddity before. ‘But she’s the vegiest of vegans!’

‘Janeen got it,’ Jason replied thickly, through a mist of mayonnaise. ‘Some sort of experimental tofu-based protein, she said. I thought it seemed more like pork, myself. Pale and stringy.’

‘Well, that explains why it didn’t dry like meat,’ I told him. ‘Tofu is moulded and extruded and generally worked upon soy beans. Nothing like as dense as meat. You’ll need a whole new set of recipes, and you’ll be making them in your own oven, if you please. And do be careful, Jason—you’ve got that apartment by grace and favour and only while you keep it nicely. Set fire to it and you might be out on the street.’

‘Yeah, Corinna, I know,’ he replied, muffling a scowl in his sandwich. And I left it at that. I had hated being nagged. I wasn’t going to turn into a nagger myself if I could help it.

After our little emergency we were late, so we leapt into a frenzy of mixing and baking and had no time for further conversation. When Kylie arrived at the shop I opened the door for Horatio. He stalked through the bakery and leapt onto the counter, tail twitching. Just so that I knew he was unimpressed. He managed to convey this without any trouble.

There was hardly any smell of smoke in the shop but I left the door open to air it out anyway. The hot wind tore inside and licked out the previous atmosphere in seconds. When I shut it again, the air conditioner whined with the effort of bringing the temperature down to a human level. Summer. Loathe it.

‘No need to worry,’ I said as my assistant wrinkled her adorable nose. ‘Just a little experiment of Jason’s which didn’t
work. He won’t be doing it again,’ I added, meaningly, to my blushing midshipman.

‘Shit, no,’ he agreed. ‘I only got blueberry muffins today. I’ll get up extra early tomorrow and make the fancy ones,’ he offered.

I knew an apology when I heard one.

‘Good work, Midshipman,’ I said crisply. ‘Carry on, miss.’

Both of them saluted. Oh, how I love being captain.

After that it was an ordinary morning. The faint smell of smoke was overtaken by the strong smell of baking. People flopped into the shop and stood under the air-conditioning vent, purring as they cooled down. Horatio unbent enough to allow his ears to be caressed by especially favoured customers. Even Jason’s despised default blueberry muffins sold out. Kylie was telling me about the new ultra-neon yellow thongs she was going to buy and Jason was exuding relief that I hadn’t screamed at him. I was wondering about textured soy-based protein. Hadn’t someone already made it? Or was I thinking of nut-meat?

We sold out, cashed up and closed down about two. I took Horatio up to the apartment, Jason started the mopping, Kylie went off to the bank and then to the shoe shop and all was well with the world. After such a nerve-wracking morning, I did not go to the roof. I showered and changed and settled down with a cold glass of white wine and my Jade Forrester. Horatio had a comprehensive all-over wash to remove every trace of smoke from his fur and joined me on the couch. And so Daniel discovered us when he returned, looking rough from his all-night foray among the lost, stolen and strayed.

‘I think I’ve found them,’ he told me, and slumped into a chair.

‘Good,’ I murmured.

‘And you’ll never believe where they are,’ he added.