Poison Flowers (7 page)

She moved away from her car and walked toward the front door, which faced half-round to the cove. The ocean wind was stronger on this side, and empty planters, which were hanging from the edges of the wooden awning, swayed hypnotically. The well-built deck was sturdy under her feet. To her surprise, the brass knob in the wood and glass front door turned. The house was unlocked. Holding onto the knob with one hand, she knocked with the other and she stepped inside.

“Mr. Giles?” she called. “It’s Marya Brock, here about the cottage.”

There was no response, but she entered the large pleasant front room anyway, hoping the owner and the realtor were not the sorts who press charges for unlawful entry. The inside was completely, but simply, furnished, another plus. An adorable potbelly wood-burning stove occupied a place of honor in the center of the large living area. The bedroom, right off the main room, featured little more than a double bed, two end tables, a small closet and one tall bureau. Still, that was more than enough to meet her needs. The bath was small, but pleasant, the shower wide and bordered by a wall of glass bricks. The sparkling clean kitchen, part of the open living area, was large and airy, with many tall windows looking directly onto the cove. She stood for a moment and watched gulls vying for one another’s attention as they frolicked in the air above the small curved beach. The water, fading from greenish blue near the beach to the blue of midnight farther out, moved with sluggish restlessness as it ignored the drama unfolding among the gulls just above it. Far out on the ocean horizon, she saw a hazy body of land. Unable, after many moments, to figure out exactly where the land lay, she pulled her eyes away.

A figure snared Marya’s attention as it strode from a forested copse onto the reddish sand of the beach. She watched as the figure moved closer and realized that this person was coming straight toward the cottage. Perhaps it was the owner. She walked rapidly through the house and out the front door, not stopping until she reached the front bumper of the Trooper. It wouldn’t do for the owner to find her browsing through his house unattended.

Waiting, she began counting to herself to dispel a sudden nervousness. One would think after more than a decade of reporting on people’s lives, she would feel at ease with strangers. Not so. She often clenched up when it came time to meet someone new. After what seemed an interminable time, the owner rounded the corner of the house. It was Dorcas Wood. Marya’s nervousness leapt up and increased tenfold.

When Dorry saw Marya she stopped and impaled her with those keen, bright blue eyes. Marya watched her as well, maintaining as steady a regard as possible. After almost a full minute, she was puzzled to see a wave of resignation flicker across the woman’s eagle gaze.

“So, it’s you,” she said. “I should have known. Guess I pegged you wrong after all. You’re going to be one of the ones who just won’t give up. I suppose I should have paid more attention to your fancy threats.”

It took Marya a moment to realize what she was talking about. When she did, she became angry. “This has nothing to do with the story. I need a place to live,” she retorted, trying to keep her tone calm.

Dorry resumed walking and continued around to the front of the cottage. “Well, you’re not living here.”

Marya’s mouth dropped open at the abrupt dismissal, and she strode after her. “What do you mean, I can’t live here? Are you afraid I won’t be able to pay the rent?”

Dorry paused before entering the cottage, one hand poised on the edge of the open door, and regarded her with steely calm. “I’ll not have you spying on me. I’m sorry. You’ll just have to find another place.”

“Find another place! But I like it here,” Marya cried as she stepped onto the deck. She tried the front door; anger flared as she realized Dorry had locked it after entering the house. She was tempted to kick in the door, but she tried to maintain her composure. Dorry’d never rent to her if she proved destructive.

“Look, Miss Wood,” she called through the door, cupping her hands around her face and leaning close to peer through the glass. “I really like this cottage. I’m living with my parents and I need to move out. Please reconsider.”

Marya could see her through the window of the door. She was sitting at the kitchen table, her square hands wiping at the tabletop with a paper towel. She was pointedly ignoring Marya.

Marya slammed the edge of one fist against the wooden doorjamb, unable to help herself. The sound echoed throughout the cove, giving her a certain satisfaction. She wished it had landed on Dorcas Wood’s stubborn head instead.

Marya stomped across the deck and walked with heavy tread around to the driveway. Just as she was getting into her Trooper, a small blue car pulled alongside.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Miss Brock. Someone bought a house at the last minute and I got bogged down in paperwork. I called the owner, Dorry Wood. Did she show you around?”

Henry Giles was much as she had pictured him—young, handsome, athletic in build. Now, as he apologized, he brushed absently at his thinning blond hair and watched her expectantly.

“She showed me around all right,” she told him, her tone sullen. “She showed me the way out. She won’t rent to me.”

He seemed perplexed. “But why? Did she tell you why?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure. I believe it’s because she thinks I’ll spy on her or something.”

“Spy on her?” Giles laughed, then sobered. “Well, legally she’s got to give you the reason on paper. Let’s go see what’s on her mind.”

He led the way around the house. She followed doubtfully. She figured once Dorcas Wood’s mind was made up, it stayed that way.

Pulling a tagged key from his pocket, Giles soon had them inside.

“Now, Henry, don’t come annoying me about this girl. I’m not renting to her and that’s that,” said Dorry as she rose from her chair at the table.

“But why, Dorry?” Giles asked quietly. “We need to talk about this.”

Dorry fixed her irritating stare on Marya. “She’s a reporter, Henry. That’s all that needs to be said.”

Giles quieted in thought and then motioned Marya outside. “Let me talk to her, Miss Brock. Why don’t you step down to the beach?”

As Marya closed the door she could hear Dorry lashing into the realtor. Great sadness filled her. She guessed she wasn’t meant to live there after all. Unwilling to stick around for the dismal outcome, she slid into her car and drove back to work, hoping there would be something in tomorrow’s rental ads.

Back at the newspaper office, Marya found herself unable to concentrate. The story she was doing about a woman who lived with fourteen dogs just wouldn’t come together. She found herself falling into a mild depression, taking out her lingering anger and frustration by snapping at a bewildered Dallas.

It rankled that Dorcas Wood hated her so absolutely. Marya had done her no real harm, at least not on purpose. If only she had approached her differently, she thought, if she hadn’t been dumb enough to act as Marvin’s patsy, things could have been different between them.

It wasn’t just the idea of losing the cottage. Another adequate place would come along, she was sure. There was the whole question of studying under Dorry, something Marya realized she desperately wanted. A student necessarily had to be on good terms with her instructor, especially in martial arts training, which can be hazardous if mishandled. She thought again of the framed pictures in the lobby of The Way of Hand and Foot and wanted to scream in frustration.

This insanity had to be some sort of a test, she told herself, gazing blindly at her computer screen.

“Hey, Marya,” Carol called, pulling her from her self-torture. “Phone for you on line two. And it’s a maaan!” She raised her eyebrows suggestively, and Marya frowned at her as she picked up the call.

“Miss Brock? This is Henry Giles.”

“Oh, Mr. Giles, listen, I’m really sorry for causing so much trouble. I can’t understand why she dislikes me. I’ve never done anything to her, I swear.”

“Please, don’t worry about it. Dorry is just that way. She eats reporters for breakfast. Don’t let her ruffle you. Once you get to know her, you’ll find she’s quite reasonable. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

“That may be, but, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll avoid Miss Wood in the future.”

He laughed. “Funny, those were her exact same words about you. That’s why you’ll pay your rent through my office. I hope that won’t be a problem for you?”

Marya fell silent, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. “What do you mean? Did I get the cottage?”

“Sure. Did you doubt it?”

“She said she wouldn’t rent to me!”

Giles chuckled. “Dorry says a lot of things. After a few minutes, I got her to see reason. Being a realtor, I’m pretty persuasive, especially when it comes to making money. You do still want it, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Marya said, smiling so broadly that her face hurt. “How on earth did you get her to agree to it?”

“I just told her what a nice person you are, so you’d better not disappoint me on that front. I gave her my word that you would never bother her or spy on her or anything, so I hope that’s not what’s on your mind. If it is, you’d better tell me now.”

He paused expectantly and Marya hastened to reassure him her intentions were honorable.

“Good. Any problems you have with the cottage call me, not her. All business dealings are to be through me, okay?”

“Absolutely!”

“Good. Can you drop by here this afternoon after work? I’ll wait for you because there’s some papers you need to sign and I need the first month’s rent and a month’s deposit. Then you can move in whenever you like.”

“Thank you. Yes, I’ll be there. In about half an hour, in fact.” Marya was delirious with relief. Maybe, with time, Dorry would reconsider her feelings about her, as well.

“I’m on Preston, just off Collier. Go down two stoplights, turn right and you’ll see a big sign out front, Coastal Realty.”

“Yes, got it,” Marya said as she scribbled the directions.

“And remember, leave Dorry be. She has a temper and I’d hate to see you on the receiving end of it. Anything you need should be handled through this office. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” she said, heart chilling anew despite her excitement.

I knew where she’d been. Watching the house again. It’s what she always did when she had a day off and sometimes even during the day when she pretended to be working. I’m not sure why she hated the woman so much. They’d been friends once or so she said. Sometimes I doubted it.

I closed my phone and tapped it against my chin as I looked around to make sure no one else was nearby. The house appeared to be deserted. Mama said she had parked at a house just down the road a ways so his was the only car parked in front.

The man was following her. She told me she had led him into the woods west of the house. I left my car and started along the edge of the wooded area. Then I saw him. He was standing next to a tree, wearing a pale blue shirt and tan trousers. He was older than I expected but that was okay; maybe he would back off easier. He was watching something, one finger crooked around his chin. I figured it was Mama.

I followed his gaze and had to swallow hard. Mama stood in a clearing, her shirt off and fanning herself with a handkerchief. The white of her bra was blinding in the forest and I looked away, embarrassed.

I moved closer to the man and grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. He cried out and Mama was there within seconds.

“What are you doing, spying on my mama,” I whispered against his ear. He craned his neck to look back at me.

“It
is
you,” he said, eyes wide.

Mama was shrugging into her blouse. “There’s an envelope in the front seat of his car,” she said. “Get his keys.”

I fished in his trouser pocket and pulled out a key ring. I handed it to her.

“What now?” I asked and the man grunted.

“Yes, what will you do now? She will find out, you know, and she will tell,” he told Mama.

“And that will be a good thing,” she replied, straightening her collar. “But it will be on my schedule, not yours. You had no business nosing around.”

“They’re both like sisters to me. I won’t let you blackmail her any longer. It’s just wrong.”

Mama got that angry look in her eyes. “What’s wrong is him not living up to his responsibilities…and them thinking they’re so much better than the rest of us. That’s wrong.”

“Listen,” he began, but Mama cut him off.

“No, you listen. My sweet baby is just as deserving as that other one.”

She looked at me. “Take him over to the cellar. Tie him up tight. Then you come and pick me up at Bird Island. Hurry now, I mean it.”

I recoiled. Was she asking me to…? I smiled even as my heart leapt in my chest. I could be bad. It was okay.

Mama turned away and disappeared into the trees.

“So, let’s go for a little walk,” I said as I goose-stepped him through the forest, heading back to the car.

“Brocklyn! Where the hell is Denton?” The shout came from Ed, buried in his office. This was the third time he’d asked the same question, and Marya still had no answer.

“I don’t know, Ed,” she called. “I haven’t seen him in two days. I’ve told you that.”

Marya sighed and returned to her perusal of plant catalogs. Settling into her new home had been going well except for her mother’s determination to press her with various household staples. After the third armload of sheets and towels from her, Marya had returned it all, with the firm request her mother give her what she really needed, plants for the empty planters swaying above the cottage’s deck. Bless her mother. Her feelings hadn’t been hurt a bit. She had cheerfully handed Marya some catalogs and told her to write up an order for whatever she wished.

Waking each morning to the call of the gulls was becoming a pleasant addiction. Marya had taken to visiting the beach each morning before work, making note of the subtle variations of sea and sky. It seemed the ocean off Begaman Cove had developed a life of its own, choosing a new color and style for each day. The never-ending motion of the waves and the slap of foam on the shore invigorated Marya, energized her.