“I know something about A plant,” David said, smiling and waving a rolled joint.
“Funny,” Becca said, sticking out her tongue. But she sat forward, growing serious. Despite the euphoria and diversion, her mind wouldn’t allow her to give up on the weird encounter with their new neighbor. Perhaps it was because the cannabis had helped serve as a reminder. Whatever the case, Becca felt profoundly disturbed by the boy’s reaction to the mere mention of Giovanni’s untimely demise. Even when accounting for the fact that everyone dealt with trauma in their own ways, it was still just off. Add to that the strange way he’d been handling those blue flowers in his yard, and it all conspired to stick to the walls of her brain like a post-it note.
“What do you mean, mom?” Denise asked, her words coming out clearly, even if the girl needed some extra time to enunciate them.
“Guy next door- did you even know we have a neighbor- he’s got these weird blue flowers. He was handling them extra careful, with gloves and everything. You know?” Becca asked. She shook her head. “Maybe it’s the weed talking. I don’t know. He’s the dispensary owner’s son. You know? And, well, he was acting super strange when I started mentioning Giovanni’s death,” Becca said. She extracted her cell phone from her pocket and started scrolling through her recent photos, quickly finding the ones of the relevant plant.
Reaching out, David took the phone. At first, he didn’t seem interested. But then he squinted, yanking his hand back. He’d been in the process of trying to hand the device off his to his fiancé when, suddenly, he’d reversed course to take a better look. Closely scrutinizing the images, he used his fingers to zoom in. He shook his head. “Man, don’t ask me how I know this, but I’m pretty sure this is monkshood. Dudes used to use it for hunting bears and war,” he said.
Becca blinked. She slumped back against the couch. Massaging her temple, she tried to think. She couldn’t help but think that maybe she’d been thrust into a bad trip or something. “How do you know that?” she asked.
“I had extra time on my hands. Spent a lot of time reading and playing video games during OEF,” David said.
“You and your jargon. OEF?” Becca asked.
“Sorry, Miss B. Uh, Operation Enduring Freedom. That’s what we grunts called the operation in Afghanistan,” he said. He coughed into a fist before moving on. “The neighbor is growing this stuff? I mean, if it is what I think it is, Miss B, you really need to do something. Because it’s highly toxic. Which, you said he was handling it with gloves and everything? That makes perfect sense. What if Mousse wandered over there and decided to get himself a taste? That’d kill him, for sure,” he said.
“Yeah. Maybe I should call his mom,” Becca said aloud.
“Mom, this thing is getting crazier and crazier,” Denise said. “I didn’t even know we had a neighbor. Wasn’t the for-rent sign still up just, what, a week ago?” she asked.
Becca nodded. She took a deep breath. “Yeah. I guess Ben- that’s his name, by the way- was staying with his mom as he transitioned. Which I can totally get. You know? It’d be so quiet and lonely without you here. I wouldn’t want to just get rid of you,” she said, eyeing her daughter.
“That’s not what you said earlier,” Denise said, her tone mildly wounded.
“Well, I was just joking, love. Say, why don’t we make some poor man’s pudding in a bit? I’m a bit munchy. Can you two go to the grocery store? Can you manage that? Without alerting half the town to what’s going on? I can give you my card,” Becca said.
“Mom, we always have eggs, flour, sugar. You bake for a living. Why would we need to go to the store?” Denise asked.
“We are a little stoned, Miss B. Might not be the best idea to be driving, you know?” David added.
“Good point, David. So, why not take an Uber? Look, I’m trying to politely ask you to leave for a bit. Okay? I’m about to call the only dispensary owner in town to ask her if her son might be a murderer. That’s not exactly a conversation I want you guys to be in on. Nor do I particularly want you distracting me. So, shoo, flies,” Becca said, making the universal hand gesture. “Seriously. Get on the app and go,” she said after seeing them just staring stupidly at her. “Put some pep in your step. Show some urgency, here.”
Getting up, Denise trotted toward her bedroom while David extracted his phone and began quietly scrolling. Within seconds, he’d secured a ride to Fred Meyer. “Says it’ll be here in about 20 minutes, Miss B. Until then, look, I’m not too happy about just sitting back and letting this guy threaten you,” he said.
“I understand, David. And, honestly, I’m not too happy about it, either. But I’m even less enthusiastic about the idea of you returning to jail. You’re a good person, David. You don’t deserve to be in there. But, on paper, you’re almost destined to fail. And I do NOT want that my conscience. Okay? We need you. D needs you. And you’re of no use to use if you’re locked up. It doesn’t matter how good your intentions are or how evil our adversaries are. We have to play chess here. Fighting this guy directly might just get you killed or imprisoned. He’s got all sorts of ugly little henchmen,” Becca said, shivering at the thought.
“That’s why we have force multipliers, Miss B. One veteran will always be better than twenty, thirty, even a hundred dumb, arrogant criminals,” David said. “But, seriously, at least tell me you’ll carry pepper spray. SOMETHING. I know how you feel about guns. But it might even be worth it to consider trying to get a permit. Take a few classes, whatever. I mean, if you’re okay with it, I could totally show you how to carry and shoot, Miss B. Some things you never lose. I mean, it’s like tying your shoelaces left-to-right. You know? Just a habit,” he said.
“I don’t know whether to be reassured or horrified that you just likened shooting a gun to tying your shoes,” Becca said. Then she gritted her teeth and nodded. “Yes, David. I will start carrying my pepper spray. I even have a flashlight. It’s supposed to be super intense or something. Some lady was selling these defense products or whatever like it was Avon. Damsels something. Whatever. I just remember I saw her thing on Facebook and decided it might be worth going to her little house party. I honestly just wanted to make some new friends and tell people about the Three Sassters,” she said, shrugging. “Ended up with a hundred-dollar flashlight.”
“That’s how they get you,” David said, smiling. He turned when Denise re-entered the room. “You ready? Car’s about here,” he said, pecking his fiancé on the lips when she bent down. “I think we should go wait outside. Miss B needs some space. Been a rough few days.” He winked at Becca as he stood and guided his future wife gently by the small of her back toward the door.
“Just text us or whatever when it’s okay to come home,” Denise said, pausing at the threshold. “I love you, mom. I’m, uh, I’m really proud of what you’re doing. It’s really brave,” she said. Then, blushing heavily, the girl fled to the relative safety of the outside world.
Stunned by the words, Becca blinked and stared at the door. “Did that just happen?” she asked. Shaking her head, Becca once again began to wonder if she’d been trapped in a bizarre nightmare. Greedy criminals conspiring and awkward teen boys experimenting with lethal plants were plausible enough, even if somewhat difficult to fathom in her own community. But her daughter demonstrating her affection for anyone other than David… THAT seemed beyond comprehension.
As the lingering silence left in the wake of their departure slowly infected her being, Becca started worrying.
The all-too-familiar anxiety crept back up. It gnawed on her insides. Her chest tightened. Stretching, Becca started pacing. She chewed her fingernails as she went to the door, checking and re-checking to make sure it was locked. As the old grandfather clock in the corner ticked, she felt it grating on her nerves. Becca couldn’t help but think about the potential suspect living next door. The reality that Ben existed at the fringes of the two worlds that had collided head-first in Becca’s small pastry bar only served to exacerbate the tensi
on she experienced.
Slowly, forcing her hands to stop trembling, Becca took out her phone and dialed the dispensary’s number.
It was time to put an end to her anxiety once and for all.
The line rang several times. With each second that passed, Becca grew more tense. It got so bad that she needed to sit down. But when that didn’t help, she stood back up again and began pacing. Feeling as if she were about to have a heart attack, she saw catastrophes between every unanswered beep.
“Hello?” Saffron finally answered. From her tone, she sounded tired and distracted. “We’re closed. But we’ll open again at 8 tomorrow morning.”
“Hey, Saffron. It’s me, Becca. Uh, I’m sorry. I guess you have no reason to remember me. I came in the other day. I own the Three Sassters,” Becca said.
Saffron cleared her throat. A palpable tension managed to swirl through the ether and attach itself to Becca. Remaining silent what felt like several minutes, the embattled dispensary owner allowed the quiet to stretch itself taut, adding to the overall effect. In the background, it sounded like she was drumming her fingers on a surface of some sort.
Finally, when she spoke, her words geysered out. “Becca, I am SO sorry. I’m afraid I wasn’t totally honest with you the other day. Um, well, it’s actually been weighing pretty heavily on my mind. You can choose to believe that or not. I don’t know if you will. But I do hope you’ll forgive me,” Saffron said.
“Forgive you for what, Saffron?” Becca asked, her spidey senses on high alert.
“Lying,” Saffron said.
“Okay, we could do this all night, Saffron. Lying about what?” Becca asked, starting to get frustrated. She slumped down onto the couch and began tapping her foot on the floor. She chewed her nails as she waited for the woman on the other end to spill the beans.
“Well, I guess I’ll just out with it, then. Uh, so, yeah, I lied,” Saffron said. She sighed. “Okay,” she said. She took a deep breath, then launched directly into her confession. “I wasn’t just asking questions about the details of the death. The one in your pastry bar? I, uh, I wasn’t being honest about why I was prying. I wanted to know because my son, he’s actually Giovanni’s ex-boyfriend,” Saffron said.
Becca sat forward so suddenly she nearly toppled over. Her heart racing, she instantly began scrabbling for anything she might be able to write on. She wished she’d had some app for recording calls downloaded onto her phone. Trying desperately to get the soon-to-be divulged details recorded for posterity, Becca nearly didn’t hear Saffron when she began speaking again.
“So, you know, I should have told you that. But I was afraid. I AM afraid. I mean, I don’t know what to do. Part of me wants to call the police. But I don’t know it would help or hurt. And… he’s my son,” Saffron said, suddenly bursting into tears. She sobbed over the phone, her soul torn asunder by the emotional impact of the confession.
Trying to think what she’d feel like under similar circumstances, Becca’s entire body relaxed as she experienced a wave of sympathy for the poor tortured soul. The conflict and angst the woman must be going through had to be terrible. Becca waited silently, trying to be as patient as possible under the circumstances. In a way, the admission presented a welcome opportunity. Her little investigation could be wrapped up neatly, with minimal effort. And she could hopefully return to some semblance of normalcy afterward. But, on the other hand, it all seemed too convenient. Too coincidental.
“Tell me about their relationship,” Becca finally prompted. She’d given Saffron several minutes to cry and release the emotional toxins. At some point, Becca needed to get on with things. “How long were they dating? Did anyone else know?” she asked. The latter point seemed of particular relevance since she would need to corroborate any details Saffron provided.
“Ben came out to me when he was, what, maybe 14? I remember it clearly. He just sat down for cereal- his favorite snack- and told me. No big lead-in. No nervousness. Just, like, hey, mom, if you didn’t figure it out already, I’m a flaming homosexual,” Saffron laughed. “Those were the words he used. Exactly. He’s always been a bit weird. You know, being my son, and all,” she said.
“Okay, but how does that relate to Giovanni?” Becca asked.
“Well, I don’t think Giovanni was always out in the open about it. I don’t really know. I never made it a habit to pry too much in my son’s affairs. As long as he was safe and happy, I didn’t bother him. His grades were decent. I never got a phone call saying he was in trouble for anything. In a way, I was always surprised that he had any sexual impulses at all. I could never really see Ben actually summoning the courage to ask anyone on date,” Saffron laughed again. She snorted. “If I’m being honest, I probably never even envisioned him being able to interact with others in any type of informal setting. A very, what is the word, misanthropic? Anyway, he’s never been the personification of a social butterfly, if you know what I mean,” she said.
Becca chuckled politely. However, she remained silent, waiting for the woman to continue on.
“My Ben spent a lot of time with plants. He’s always been fascinated with botany. Maybe it’s his way of trying to connect with me. I don’t know. But that’s the closest I’ve ever come to finding a reasonable explanation. Either way, he always was trying to start botany clubs. He’s actually won awards at the county fair and even earned national recognition for his orchid hybrids. If he would just go to school, he could easily earn six figures. Seriously. I’m a bit surprised he doesn’t already. At 17, he had several grass seed companies around here basically use him as slave labor. They only eventually agreed to pay him because I happened to catch wind of what was going on and I threatened to sue them for exploiting a minor. That didn’t do it. I should just tell the truth. Uh, I used to sell weed to most of the farmer’s kids. Their wives, their pastor’s wives. THAT scared them. These ranchers are the main property tax payers in most of the counties out this way. They send their kids to be congressional interns, all that. So, for a good, upstanding Republican cowboy clinging to his Bible and guns, it would not be a good look if everyone knew their kids smoked the same stuff the kids in Portland use,” she said.
Saffron took a deep breath. “Anyway, the point is, I never gave Ben much structure. I wanted him to find his own way. Maybe that was wrong of me. But, I know, I know. Look, he started dating Giovanni about a year ago. I think. All I know is that Giovanni started showing up and retreating with Ben up into his room. They hung out a lot. And I asked Ben one day if things were serious, and he intimated that it was,” she said.
“Intimated?” Becca asked, thinking that that was an interesting choice of words.
“Yeah, intimated. Implied. He wouldn’t actually tell me anything, other than confirming that they were sexually active. He reassured me that they were using protection and left it at that. I never brought it up again because I figured, as long as they were careful about it, there wasn’t much else I could do. I’m a big believer in letting love take its course,” Saffron said.
“Is that what happened with his dad? Did love just take its course?” Becca asked. She winced. Once again, she’d blurted out something that she shouldn’t have said. But she was curious what the response would be, nonetheless.
“Kind of. His dad died,” Saffron said. She started crying again, softer this time.
“What’s wrong?” Becca asked, sensing something.
“I, I, I… Becca, I always thought that Ben poisoned him. My husband was a decent man, but he beat me. He was a raging alcoholic and did a lot of mushrooms. He would just leave for months at a time and then show back up, expecting me to cater to his every whim. Horace had been a lawyer. A civil rights attorney specializing in Indian affairs. But he got burned out. He started withdrawing. Then he just completely took a new track, trying to serve as a public defender. In his heart, he always genuinely wanted to do the right thing. Which was the only reason I sort of tolerated his abuse. He became an absolute pig. But he’d seen so
many injustices and his entire life’s work had been trampled,” Saffron said.
“Why would you say Ben poisoned him?” Becca asked.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s just a suspicion. A hunch. You know, mother’s intuition?” Saffron asked, seeking reassurance.
Becca snorted. “I’m not sure how to say this politely, so I guess I’ll just say it. I don’t know how messed-up you’d have to be to have a maternal instinct- in your gut- that your own child was capable of murder. Not just any murder, mind you, but the murder of their own father,” she said. She shook her head at the thought. “Makes me wonder about the state of our world,” she muttered.
“Look, I know it probably sounds weird. But my son is weird. He’s always been aloof. Diffident. Apathetic. I worried about him since he was a little thing. I still do. I’m fairly certain he was responsible for a lot of suspicious pet deaths in our old neighborhood. That was one reason we moved, actually. A lot of other people shared the same thought, and it was beginning to reach a point where I genuinely thought someone might try to hurt Ben,” Saffron said.
“Well, I mean, if you hurt my pets, I’d probably want to hurt Ben, too,” Becca said, unconsciously diverting her attention to Mousse, who was quietly begging her for treats from the edge of the hallway, imploring her with his best sad-dog eyes. For a canine, he really was a clever creature. A master of the guilt-trip. Getting up, she went to find something to temporarily sate his appetite while she waited for Saffron to continue on.
“You know, that’s kind of a mean thing to say, honestly. Really. Right now, I could use something… something other than that THAT. Yes, I know revenge is a natural impulse. I think I acknowledged that when I said it was the major reason I made the very difficult decision to move. But, look, if you want me to tell you what happened and what I know, then you need to lay off the snark. Okay? Please. I obviously never felt bad or concerned enough TO CALL YOU. I waited for inevitable to occur. But I’m not just informing you of all this to appease my burdened, troubled, tortured psyche. I need Ben to get help, if he is somehow behind all of this. He’s not a bad kid,” Saffron said.
Slice of the Pie Page 15