Gore in the Garden

by Shelley Dawn Siddall

  It was no big deal as far as Liv was concerned. She would say, “Let them live their life and we’ll live ours.” It was gross. The Las Vegans didn’t even have bleach on the premises.

  Now Flynn wanted her to ‘plate the meal’. Saffron was confused.

  “You want the soup on a plate?” she asked Flynn.

  Flynn picked up a large ceramic bowl with vegetables hand painted on the brim. He filled the bowl with two ladles of soup then swirled coconut ‘cream’ on top. A fancy ‘L’ and a fancy ‘V’ floated across the soup. It was perfection.

  “Think you can do that for me?” Flynn asked again.

  “Oh sure,” Saffron said smiling broadly. As the owner of the cubby-hole restaurant went to the front of the house to check the head count, Saffron dished up the soup. She grabbed the squeeze bottle full of coconut cream, made two dots for eyes and a big smile.

  Flynn expected her to serve as well, because the great Liv hadn’t shown up yet. Saffron wasn’t entirely sure of the relationship between them, but Flynn did seem to be the boss. She hoped Liv would really get blasted for being late.

  ***

  Liv was actually blasting someone else.

  She was in the community garden that she and Flynn had initiated and was giving a piece of her mind to one of the gardeners. They were using insecticide! One of those pump and spray things that sent a fine mist over everything it was aimed at.

  “It’s drifting on our vegetables, you idiot! Can’t you see that? What part of organic do you not understand?”

  Leon Pitre had decided to quit drinking and take up gardening. His reasons were two-fold. One, if he stayed sober he could keep an eye on his wife and thwart any attempts she made on his life. And two, gardening in the community garden, was far away from his house and her nagging. He even went out a bought a pair of overalls to work in.

  “Now look little lady,” Leon said, “I believe the sign says ‘Community garden’ not organic garden. I happen to like my cabbages moth free!”

  “Did you not read our brochure? Pesticides are frowned upon!”

  “I’m frowning, I’m frowning!” Leon said with a chuckle while he continued to spray the pesticide on his baby cabbages. He was quite proud of them and quite proud of himself. The only other thing he had successfully planted was Brett Smith under a layer of concrete.

  While Liv stewed and mumbled curses, Leon put the sprayer down and sat on the edge of his garden. He had salvaged some wood and built a four-foot square box with a pretty little ledge to sit on. He admired his neat little garden patch and thought about Julia Smith.

  She was really blossoming, so perhaps you could say he helped her to grow. It looked like that Conrad Jeffries had taken a shine to her too. Well good for them. It was a pity though, that she would have to wait years before Brett could be declared legally dead. Maybe he shouldn’t have buried him so deep?

  ***

  In Liv’s former life, she had been a hard driving sales executive in middle management. She was all about the results and her team knew it. They detested her with a passion, but the more she bullied them the more they produced. Their sales numbers were the best in the company. As were their bonuses.

  Liv was not only hyper and goal oriented, she was also sick as a dog. Although she expected everyone around her to jump when she said jump; Liv herself was desk bound and pretty much sedentary. In one year, despite her latest diet, she had gained forty more pounds, her skin was sallow, and she had migraines most days.

  Then one day, she ate an organic tomato.

  The guy who delivered sandwiches to the office dared her to eat it.

  “Bet you have never tasted anything like this in your life!” Flynn had said. “Go on, I dare you!”

  She had never tasted anything like that tomato in her entire life. Flynn was right. She was sold.

  That began her headlong dive into organic vegetables. She subsequently gave up smoking, eating animals, her job, her apartment and polyester clothing. She also dropped over a hundred pounds and ran away with Flynn to Huckleberry.

  Flynn Tanner and Liv Hayashi moved to town the previous year and found an opportunity. A small restaurant happened to be selling, so they snapped it up to start their own vegan place.

  After rather extensive renovations, it was a dream come true. Now, all they needed was a spot to grow their organic vegetables. At the edge of Huckleberry, was a huge building that had been vacant for two years. Apparently, Huckleberrians were not into casinos and exotic dancers. At least, not in their backyard. If they had to travel to Munson, that was fine.

  The parking lot of the bankrupted business was a hang for skate boarders and the generous green space was essentially a trash heap. Liv suggested they dig up the dead grass for not just their garden but start a community garden! They were able to win the hearts of the town council with their ambitious project by promising to pay for the trash removal. It was made very clear to Flynn and Liv that should a buyer for the building finally materialize, the couple would be responsible to restore the green space to its previous condition.

  But without the trash and the dead grass.

  The next hurdle was to locate the gas and power lines. Fortunately, they were located on the other side of the building so the digging began in earnest. Initially, Liv did not want to use a gas-powered rototiller, because it clearly wasn’t green, but as winter was setting in, they wanted to get something in the ground to enrich the soil. They rented a rototiller from the hardware store and also purchased seed. They went with wheat as the cover crop.

  Water was the next issue. They had initially been using the outside tap on the old restaurant, but the town frowned on the use of water without paying for it. Liv bought a dozen rain barrels and positioned them under the down spouts of the abandoned business. She spoke extensively to the prospective community gardeners about mulching and handed out flyers about water conservation. After making financial compensations to the town of Huckleberry for the stealing of the water; Liv also paid for the installation of a water meter.

  Liv had never worked so hard in her life and she loved it. Their garden project was up and running, their restaurant numbers looked good and she couldn’t remember the last time she had a migraine.

  Now if she could only get this fat oaf to stop with the pesticide, her life would be perfect. Well, almost perfect. There was still that thing that happened this morning. She could not even think the words. It was that thing between her and Flynn that, if true, would end everything. Liv knew she’d have to deal with it soon, but not today; today there was lunch to serve!

  ***

  Saffron giggled when Liv showed up a half an hour after lunch started. She could hear Flynn talking to her in that patronizing tone he always had.

  “We only have the one meal to serve a day Liv. Do you think you can make it here on time tomorrow? Can you do that for me? Or is there something more important on your agenda? Can you check your calendar for me and let me know?”

  “Give it a rest,” Liv sighed, “You know damn well I was at the garden harvesting.” She dumped the box full of beets and carrots on the floor. “Can you pick that up Flynn?” she said and sarcastically added, “Can you do that for me?”

  Flynn did not give it a rest. “I am very disappointed in you Liv, I thought we were supposed to be a partnership. I don’t see you holding up your end of the deal.” He put his hand on her shoulder and was surprised how warm she felt. “Where’s your work ethic Liv?” he asked.

  “My work ethic? I financed the start-up costs to purchase and renovate this dive, I pay the bills, I do the gardening, I train the staff, I do the serving and the dishes, I even sweep the damn floor! What, pray tell, do you do Flynn?”

  Flynn continued in his same sanctimonious tone. “I do the menu planning and cooking Liv. Remember? We’re a partnership.”

  Liv was not having a good day. She had a surprising phone call in the morning which left her feeling betrayed and powerless, then she had argued with the pes
ticide man with no results. Then Flynn humiliated her in front of that bit of fluff, Saffron. She felt impotent and lashed out with sarcasm.

  “Oh, we’re a partnership are we? You might want to mention that to your wife in the city.”

  Flynn dropped all the beets that he had just picked up. His whole persona changed from domineering boss to guilty schoolboy caught without having his homework done.

  “Oops,” he said.

  With that one word Liv was completely deflated. All morning she had been wrestling with a couple of theories. She initially hoped it was a prank call from one of his sandwich delivery friends. Or, it was his ex-wife just being nasty. Flynn had mentioned an ex-wife once or twice.

  The woman had said, “Tell Flynn to drop this all natural crap and get home.” When Liv had asked politely, “Who’s calling please?” The woman said, “It’s Misha, his wife. Lady, you should really get a handle on this restaurant. Flynn has been helping you out for months, surely you should have learned how to cook by now?”

  Liv realized Flynn had been living a double life. His frequent trips to the city for organic spices and herbs that they didn’t have time to grow; his mysterious phone calls he always took in another room of their apartment, that white line on his ring finger that never tanned all added up. He had played her big time.

  Liv saw Saffron smirking behind Flynn. One problem at a time, Liv thought.

  “Were you just on vacay this whole time?” she asked Flynn, “Was this your Peter Pan mid-life crisis?”

  Flynn attempted to regain composure. “My wife and I were separated, and I saw you making such great strides in adopting a healthier lifestyle that I was attracted to you.” Flynn started using expansive gestures to explain his point of view. “I thought, well, this is something Liv and I could do together! It would be so beautiful to just leave the city behind, get out of the rat race and embrace a vegan life!”

  At this point Flynn smiled just as one of Liv’s team members would do after they made what they thought was a successful pitch.

  Liv had misread Saffron’s smirk. Saffron had been the victim of a dirty rotten two timer, and she was smirking at Flynn’s pathetic attempts to smooth things over. She walked up to Liv and with a new found confidence she asked Liv, “Are you buying any of this?”

  “No, not really.”

  Still staring at Flynn, Saffron asked Liv, “It sounds like you bought everything to begin with. Everything in your name still?”

  Liv turned and looked at Saffron with a new found interest; was there really a brain firing under those curls?

  “Yes,” Liv said slowly, “Everything is in my name still. I was just too busy to change things.” She looked at Flynn. “Imagine that? Me with my poor work ethic, too busy to change the bank account and the restaurant title into joint names.”

  Flynn kept smiling. It had worked for him in the past so why change?

  Saffron tapped Liv on the shoulder. “May I suggest three things, Boss?”

  “Um, sure?”

  “Keys, keys and address.”

  Liv was confused. She was trying not to punch Flynn in the nose.

  “What?” she demanded.

  Saffron counted off on her fingers. “One, get the keys to the restaurant, two, get the keys to the apartment and three, get his mailing address and ship everything off his to his wife!”

  Liv approached Flynn and put her arm around his shoulder. “Can you do something for me Flynn?”

  He happily put his arm around her waist. “Of course Liv, but you know, the lunch rush is still on; they’ll be needing their baked apple crunch soon.”

  Liv continued in a patronizing tone, “Could you give me your key ring? Could you do that for me Flynn?”

  Flynn finally started to suspect that things were not going his way. As Liv stripped his key ring of the apartment key and the restaurant key, it started to hit home. He started to beg.

  “I’m going to leave her, Liv. We just have to work out some custody issues with the kids.”

  “Kids?” Liv’s eyes were as large as dinner plates. She grabbed a linen napkin and gave Flynn a pen.

  “Write!” she demanded.

  Saffron pulled on Liv’s arm and said, “Find your center. Let the rage go. Be the better person.” She then added, “I hope you don’t mind I said that, my Mom always tells me the same thing when I’m upset.”

  Liv started plating the dessert and showed Saffron the presentation included two mint leaves and three pumpkin seeds in a pretty flower.

  After he had written down his mailing address, Flynn stood holding the pen.

  Liv walked by him and pointed to the back door. “Oh you? You’re fired. Out you go.”

  Flynn did a double take. “How am I supposed to get home? I don’t even have a car!”

  Just as the word ‘oops’ had done, the word ‘home’ cut Liv straight to the heart.

  “Bus,” she said as she again pointed to the door. She then loaded up two trays and she and Saffron went out to the dining room without a backwards glance.

  And in the community garden, not too far away, Leon Pitre sank to his knees and fell face first in the dirt.

  ***

  A couple of days later, Gracie stood in the lineup for Las Vegans. She wasn’t a foodie, or a vegan, but she had heard good things about this strange little restaurant. She also had an interview with a prospective client scheduled.

  A young woman, with the most gorgeous set of long auburn curls, was ushering patrons in the door. Her nametag said she was ‘Saffron’. Even her voice was beautiful while she was counting.

  “Eight, nine, ten, oh didn’t see you there. Wow are you short! Eleven, twelve, thirteen…”

  Gracie held up her hand, “I don’t know if you should count me, I won’t be eating. I’m here to see Liv Hayashi on a personal matter. I’m Gracie Noseworthy.”

  “Go right in and to the kitchen. She’s expecting you. Now do I count you or not?”

  The crowd yelled, “Don’t count her!”

  Saffron giggled. “Okay. Now what number was I at?”

  Gracie said, “Twelve because you’re not counting me. See you inside.”

  She walked inside and smiled. Six little tables were set up for four diners each. Gracie noticed a sign on the wall and smiled wider. “Do not move tables or chairs. Just sit with friends you haven’t met yet.”

  She walked in the kitchen and saw a tall woman popping what looked like meatloaf out of bread pans.

  “You must be Liv,” said Gracie extending her hand. “I know that isn’t meatloaf, but it sure looks like it, and smells heavenly!”

  “It’s the cumin.” Liv said. “You must be Gracie. Here, have a taste and tell me what you think. It’s a new recipe for me and I’m a little nervous.”

  “Liv, this is to die for! Seriously. I can’t place the basic ingredient though, what is it?”

  “You’re going to be surprised. Cooked brown lentils and sweet potatoes. Glad you liked it.” Liv kept dishing up the plates. Saffron had finished her counting, closed the door; put up the sign that said “full; try again tomorrow” and was now serving.

  “You’ve got a pretty busy operation here. When can we discuss why you called me?” Gracie asked.

  “There’ll be a break soon, once we get these dishes out. I’ll be right back.”

  Gracie stood in the kitchen peering out at the dining room. My goodness, she thought, I’ve hosted more people for dinner at my home! How can she possibly be making money? This must be more a labor of love than a viable business.

  Gracie saw a brochure for the restaurant and began reading it. When she read the cover price, she revised her opinion.

  “Twenty-five bucks a head? Wow. Maybe she is making money!”

  “That I am!” said Liv. “I am considering opening for dinner, but I don’t know. I’ll have to look at the numbers and quite frankly, I’m tired of looking at the bottom line. I just want to enjoy life. That’s one of the reasons I called you after readi
ng your ad.”

  Gracie ran an ad in the local newspaper, just after the personal columns. Gracie’s ad was just as, if not more, intriguing:

  “Did you do something bad, but can’t quite remember? Did your neighbor do something bad and you want to get the goods on them? Contact Gracie Noseworthy Investigations at 555-2368. I sniff out trouble!”

  From the dining room, an acoustic guitar was being strummed. A male voice began singing an upbeat folk tune.

  Gracie said, “Excuse me a minute,” and peeked into the dining room. She had not seen a singer when she walked in.

  “Look up,” said Liv.

  There, perched on a balcony that ran around the entire dining room was a young man with a guitar. He sang beautifully.

  “I love seeing the look on people’s faces when he starts singing. No one ever thinks to look up when they come in.”

  “Well it’s a delightful surprise!” Gracie said as Liv put a plate of lentil loaf and potatoes in front of her.

  “You eat, I’ll talk,” ordered Liv.

  Gracie nodded as she dug into the lunch.

  “A member of my community garden died a couple of days ago. His name was Leon Pitre. The thing is, I was having an argument with him shortly before he died about his use of pesticide. I was really steamed. When I left to come here, around 12:30, the last thing I said to him was, “I’m going to kill you if you keep this up.” A lot of people were around, and everybody heard me. The police say he was murdered.”

  Gracie licked her fork. Despite having a good friend on the force, Detective Sergeant Ted Bailey, she didn’t know Leon Pitre had died, but she did have a suspect. She needed to rule out Liv first though.

  “How?” she asked.

  “That’s the thing. Someone stuck him with his pesticide spray gun.” Liv blushed. “During the course of our very loud argument, I may have suggested he put the spray gun somewhere extremely unpleasant.”

  Gracie grimaced. “Was that where it was found?”

  “Heavens no! Ugh, that would have been gross. No, someone stuck it in his neck. I have an alibi, I was busy here, firing my so-called partner, but that’s another story. The thing is, I’m afraid the police are going to blame me. All the gardeners who saw us arguing weren’t sure of the time and the patrons dining didn’t see me until later when I served dessert. I’ve already had a policeman come to the apartment and interview me. I think his name was Dave something or other. I have his card in my purse. He did not believe anything I said.”