Earthly Delights (20 page)

I had never seen Jason smile before. He seemed to glow. I wondered how old he was. That was the smile of a happy baby. I gave him a one-armed hug. I had a load of tins in the other arm.

‘Very nice,’ I said, tasting the bit he held up to my mouth. ‘Just right.’

‘More coffee?’ he asked. ‘I can make it.’

‘No,’ I said, too quickly, and watched him crumple. Dammit! I still wasn’t going to let a heroin addict into my own living quarters. On the other hand, this was Jason. I made amends as best I could.

‘Tea,’ I said. ‘You can eat anything you find in the kitchen. Horatio has had his breakfast so do not believe anything he says on the subject of starving cats.’

He beamed again and ran up the stairs in his thongs. Had to get him some shoes. I went back to the bread and worried until he reappeared with a mug of tea for me and a sandwich for himself. It dripped.

‘And what is that?’ I asked.

‘It’s a fried egg and chili sauce sandwich,’ he said, faintly surprised that I had not immediately recognised it. ‘They’re well sick.’

‘That I can believe.’

‘Make one for you?’ he offered.

‘No, I’ve had breakfast. Thanks anyway.’

I averted my eyes as he finished the loathsome concoction with every sign of enjoyment and took the dishes up to my kitchen. Well, he had got into my apartment now, and if he had pinched anything, I would know how far to trust him.

I was probably mad to trust him at all. But he made a neat job of learning how to construct French twists and we got the baking done early. It was nice to have an assistant. Even one who, offered a whole cuisine to choose from, elected to eat fried eggs with chilli sauce.

Then it was time to open the door to the street, sweep out the spilled flour, and say hello to the day. It didn’t say hello
back. It was a nasty, cold dawn with a spiteful little wind which blew sharp dust into the eyes. The Mouse Police scooted out for their fish scraps then trotted right back inside and found a convenient flour sack for a nice day-long snooze.

And someone had painted ‘whore’ in big red letters on my wall.

I wasn’t scared because I was so cross. If this was how Mistress Dread had felt then I thought her restraint admirable. If I’d had a whip I would have used it.

Jason cowered as I turned on him.

‘Was this there when you came along the alley?’ I demanded.

‘I dunno,’ he quavered. ‘It was dark. I don’t think so. I didn’t smell paint.’

‘You wouldn’t,’ I snarled. ‘It’s spray paint again.’ I grabbed hold of my temper. I was scaring the staff. ‘It’s all right, Jason, I’m not blaming you,’ I said. ‘Come on, let’s get the bread into the shop and the trays out to the carrier and then I’ll ring the cops.’

‘I’ve … er … I’ve got things to do,’ he said.

‘I understand,’ I told him. ‘I’ll wait until your clothes are dry. The sign isn’t going anywhere. Don’t worry.’

‘Thanks, Miss,’ he muttered. Gone was the Jason who had smiled with delight as his first muffin turned out to be delicious. It was a pity. I wondered why he was so scared of the
police. This was such a stupid thing to think that I shook my head and picked up a load of bread. With a heroin lifestyle, almost everything one did was illegal. We loaded the bread into its proper places and Horatio stepped down into the shop. Everything was done and it was only eight o’clock.

Goss hadn’t come in and Kylie was not there when I opened the shutters.

‘Jason?’ I asked. ‘Want to serve in the shop?’

‘No!’ he said in a frightened squeal. ‘What, like this?’

I thought he looked very eighteenth century in his overall and he was decently covered down to ankles and wrists. I said so.

‘Someone might see me,’ he insisted.

Since this was a function of shops I had to agree. ‘All right. You stay here and do the waybills. When the carrier comes, make sure that he signs each one and knows that the health bread has to go first. If he makes any comment about the graffiti, tell him that I’ve already called the cops. All right? Can I rely on you?’

‘Yes,’ he said, letting out a sigh of relief. For some reason Jason had attached himself to me like a lost puppy falling in to any stranger’s heel, desperate to belong. He wanted to please. But he really couldn’t afford to be seen. Interesting. I locked up my own quarters. Jason might not steal from me but I would have to leave the bakery door open and some of his friends might decide to flatten Jason and loot the place. He had seen me lock my private apartment at this time each day so he wasn’t offended. He sat by the door with the sheaf of waybills, looking responsible and important.

While I sold bread, made change and wondered why Jason’s apple and spice muffins were better than mine, I thought about our manifold problems. We had three questions to answer.
Who was killing the junkies? (Subsidiary question: why?) Who was terrorising Insula? And where was Cherie Holliday? Quite enough for one day and I didn’t have the faintest about any of it.

I was just reflecting that now I had an assistant I could make potato bread without getting up at three to peel the potatoes when Kylie came in. She looked radiant. Her cheeks were flushed and her navel ring was twinkling.

‘Got it!’ she said. ‘Start Monday! And Goss too!’

‘Wonderful,’ I said.

‘At least three months’ work,’ she continued, entranced with her good fortune. ‘The director said we were perfect for the part.’

‘What part?’ I asked keenly. Oh, for a girl’s role where they would have to put on some weight.

‘We’re anorexics,’ she said blithely. ‘So is the main character. It’s about the fashion industry. It’s called “Cat Walk”,’ she said to Horatio, tickling his ears. ‘Only trouble is we have to smoke and I promised Dad I wouldn’t.’

‘No problem,’ I said. ‘Go ask Meroe for some herbal cigarettes. And thank her for that talisman,’ I added.

‘I will! It worked!’ she said and floated off. ‘Goss’ll be in later,’ she added from the door.

I was, of course, pleased for them but that did mean I would have to find another shop assistant. Jason was no use in his present state of extreme shyness. Tuesday was not working out too well, so far.

The morning rush dwindled and I went out the back to find that Jason had talked to the carrier, got a signature on every waybill, and was now eating his way solidly through his leftover baguette. He looked, in his overall, just like every other working boy I had seen.

‘Put your sneakers on,’ I said. ‘Slip out to Cafe Delicious and get some food. I’m going to have a busy day. Get me moussaka if they have some and get some for yourself as well,’ I said.

‘Thanks.’ He took the money. By the time he came back with the moussaka for me, he had already eaten his own portion and was finishing the last crumbs of the baguette. I suppose he had a lot of starvation to make up for.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Get changed and come back for the floor as usual. I’ve got to call Senior Constable White about the graffiti.’

He nodded, changed in the bathroom, and went. Now that my bakery was free of alien influences, I called the number the police officer had given me and she promised to visit. I sold more bread. Customers patted Horatio and the day began to fall into its accustomed pattern. Routine is soothing. I like routine.

Meroe came in about ten, looking shocked. She smelled very strongly of something chemical, which rather clashed with the bread.

‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘Sit down, Meroe.’

‘Someone poured metho through what they thought was my door last night,’ she said. ‘Actually it was the gap between the two brick walls. There’s a decorative air brick there and it does look like it goes into the shop, if you haven’t ever been in it.’

‘Shit!’ I remarked.

‘He tried to light it. There’s a bunch of dead matches outside. But he couldn’t. Now the whole place stinks of metho. Luckily I smelt it or I would have lit a stick of incense and that would have been it. I’ve called that cop,’ she said. Things were serious if Meroe called the cops.

‘Why couldn’t he light it?’ I asked.

‘Because that sort of fire needs a wick,’ said Senior Constable White from the door. ‘It was a good attempt at arson, though. He meant to burn you out. We’ve got to lay hands on this shit. You were right, Ms Chapman, he’s escalating. Step by step. Closer and closer to …’

‘Murder,’ I said. ‘Do come in, officer. If you would like to step through into the alley, I’ll show you my latest decoration.’

‘I’ll mind the shop,’ said Meroe. She sat down behind the counter. Horatio sniffed and withdrew to the furthest corner of the counter. Meroe smelt of accelerant and he didn’t like it. Cats can wound your feelings, sometimes.

‘Same writing,’ observed Lepidoptera as she gazed at the inscription. She took a digital camera and a folding ruler out of her bag and snapped several pictures. ‘Same weak loops, same unformed hand. Now, at least, we know something about him.’

‘What?’

‘How tall he is,’ she said. ‘That’s the full reach of his arm, that capital W, and there’s nothing here to stand on. Reach up beside it. How tall are you?’

‘Five six,’ I said, miming a spray can user.

‘And I’m five eight. He’s about the same height as you. Small man’s complex as well as the other problems,’ she added. ‘Great.’

I led the way back inside and locked up the bakery.

‘Any idea when it was done?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Overnight is all I can say. When I opened the door at five, I didn’t notice it. When the sun came up at seven, I saw it. It could have been there all night. There’s not a lot of lighting in Calico Alley.’

‘Oh, well. I’ll ask around. The beat cops come through here at three or so, depending on the rota. This metho-based
arson attempt is more serious. If he’d used petrol it could have been very bad.’

‘But it’s all gone amiss for him,’ I commented.

‘Well, of course it has,’ Lepidoptera smiled. ‘Your friend the witch put a curse on him.’

‘Do you believe in curses?’ I asked incredulously, sure she was pulling my leg.

‘In the police force you see a lot of strange stuff,’ she evaded.

‘How about the heroin deaths?’ I asked.

‘Another one last night,’ she said. ‘Found on the steps of the station. Nice boy from South Yarra. Only seventeen.’

‘That’s awful,’ I said.

‘Pretty awful,’ she said. ‘But there’s no sign that they’re being held down and injected by force, you know. They’re doing it themselves.’

‘And that makes a difference?’ I demanded.

‘Yes,’ she said flatly. ‘It does.’

Clearly this was going to be one of those things on which Ms White and I disagreed. There was nothing much else for me to say so I left Meroe in the shop and went over to Mistress Dread’s. I knocked at the door of her salon and she answered in person. Black corset, black fishnets, heels, tumbling red hair today.

‘Yes?’ she asked from her glorious height.

‘I need the name of the firm that cleaned off your graffiti,’ I said, daunted as always by her magnificent appearance. And her commanding manner. If I was a masochist I would have been crawling on the ground at that point, begging to kiss her stilettos. She unbent immediately.

‘Oh, Corinna, you, too? Same guy?’

‘Yes, he’s got an extremely limited vocabulary.’

‘I’ve got their card somewhere. They did a very good job, not a trace of red left. Here.’ She fished a card out of a tall brass urn by the door.

‘Also, he tried to burn down Meroe’s shop,’ I added. Mistress Dread drew herself up to her full height, an awe-inspiring sight.

‘If you can point him out, dear,’ she said in her deep growl, ‘I’ll deal with him. Personally,’ she added, cracking her riding crop against her muscular thigh.

‘If only I could,’ I said. I went back to Earthly Delights where Meroe was selling apple and spice muffins and Ms White was examining the Bosch picture which gave the shop its name.

‘Very interesting,’ she said. ‘Was the artist on drugs?’

‘Don’t know,’ I said. ‘Probably,’ I added, when I had thought about it. ‘But they must have been herbal ones.’

‘Might have been mushrooms,’ Meroe commented. ‘Or he might have been licking toads.’

Ms White and I looked at each other.

‘I expect you are going to explain that,’ I said.

‘Certainly. Grab a toad and frighten it and it exudes a poison, called bufotoxin, which deters predators. Cane toads do it. Poisons dogs. But a small dose of it sends humans off on interesting trips. A large dose of it sends them into their eternal rest, and the trouble with bufotoxin is that an effective dose is very close to a fatal dose. Witches were supposed to use it. You know, “eye of newt and tongue of frog”. Also, a certain stone was supposed to be found in a toad’s head which counteracted all poisons. It was called a bezoar stone and—’

‘Enough,’ I said. She had started a train of thought.

‘And you don’t sell anything like that in your shop?’ said Senior Constable White.

‘Of course not,’ snapped Meroe. ‘You could eat your way through my shop from end to end and all you’d get would be a bellyache.’

‘I’m sure,’ said Lepidoptera. She still had reservations about Meroe. I, of course, didn’t.

But I drew Ms White out of the shop and suggested a line of inquiry to her. I even provided the phone number. She looked dubious but said she’d look into it, advised Meroe to flood the metho with water. And not to use any naked flames for the rest of the day.

This meant that Meroe was not going to open, as she relies on incense to create an ambiance. She left my shop to put up her closed sign, drag Belladonna out from under the desk and carry her upstairs into her own apartment, Leucothea. She did not seem too badly scratched when she came back so I assumed that Belladonna had been glad to get out of the metho-scented room.

I left Meroe in the shop while I fetched the flyers from the Lone Gunmen. Gully was seated behind the desk, barely visible over unfiled documents. How they did their GST I could not imagine. When he saw me he jumped and knocked the pile over.

I knelt to gather great swathes of paper into my arms. Gully danced around begging me not to bother. He was reacting very strangely. What did he think I would find? Their weekly porn video order? All I had were invoices, made out in the proper form. Why was Gully behaving like a Mexican jumping bean? Was it a by-product of their unhealthy diet of chili con carne and tacos?