The Beastly Trees

by Sam Logue

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Blackthorn had been abuzz with indignation. Miss O’Malley’s family had appeared at the courthouse, where Mr. Hollingsworth’s meek presence belied the tragedy he’d brought about. The man who had lived among the islanders for so many years and sold them their tools had been ultimately imprisoned for life. No one on Blackthorn talked much about Mr Hollingsworth after he was put away, but the tourists who vacationed there on weekends all knew of him.

  “Isn’t this the island where that murderer lived?” they would ask. And sometimes residents would say it was, but other times they wouldn’t say anything at all.

  Mr Hollingsworth would not confess to taking Paul but rather kept asserting his innocence, the police told Victoria. Still, something didn’t feel right to her. Yet her life went on. She began walking on the beach every morning after the day she had emptied Jest the cat’s litter box at the college for the last time, before he’d passed away of heart cancer.

  Sam and she were just getting comfortable loving each other again. She’d asked him not to kill the field mouse that had invaded the pantry, so he’d trapped it and released it in the woods. He’d gotten rid of a wasp nest that threatened to take over the space above the front door.

  They’d taken turns raking the damp leaves that fell on the lawn into the town-designated brown paper bags when autumn arrived. And crows would steal tinfoil from the garbage cans that were in the driveway waiting to be emptied by the island’s sanitation workers. Once, when Victoria had been drinking her morning coffee outside, she’d gone into the house to answer the phone and left a silver spoon on a saucer. When she came back out, a crow was standing on the covered porch’s wicker table, the spoon in its beak.

  “Don’t you dare,” she’d called.

  The great black bird blinked and had flown away with the spoon.

  As the weeks passed, it felt like a big change was coming. Victoria could ignore Katie’s stories because she wasn’t there to witness those events, but she couldn’t ignore the fallen pinecones in the driveway flipping upright one afternoon and spinning in circles. The strange occurrences reminded her of what happened when Katie was born.

  Fallen yellow and red leaves had blown across the driveway just before Halloween came and the neighbourhood children had refused to bike through the graveyard as a shortcut, even in daylight. Then the season had faded, along with the fat pumpkins, dried cornstalks, scarecrows and jack-o’-lanterns that had festooned the neighbourhood’s porches and lawns.

  Would the police stop searching for Paul now that they had Mr Hollingsworth? Mr Hollingsworth hadn’t been at the park that day. But Julian’s nanny was there, and she had lied. Victoria decided to do something she should have done a long time ago. She looked up Agostina Goto’s address and found she was living in an old house in the city, far from the Bloomfield family’s influence.

  Victoria left for Agostina’s house in her car while Sam was at work. In the city she parked in the only empty space she could find, which was a bit of a distance from Agostina’s house. Agostina’s area of the city was a little rundown, but it was still a family neighbourhood with plenty of people chatting on the front steps of the houses.

  On the next street, Victoria passed a beauty parlour where women sat beneath hairdryers that looked like chrome beehives. A man was noisily emptying a bag of glass bottles and aluminium cans into a recycling bin facing one of the houses. There was a little uncooked rice on the front stoop of Agostina’s home. The chiming of cathedral bells tolling for mass in the distance was overwhelmed by the closer roar of a group of motorcyclists stopped at a traffic light.

  Victoria pushed open the front gate and walked down the stairs leading to the basement apartment. She rang the bell and a woman opened the door. She had a strong figure, wore a black dress, and stood in a small, dim corridor that smelled of cleaning fluid. The woman was probably in her forties. She had crimped dark hair, and her arms had a deep tan.

  “Agostina?” Victoria said.

  The woman nodded cautiously.

  “Do you remember me?” Victoria asked. “You minded the Bloomfield boy.”

  Agostina had the same mark on her temple as Katie. “How is he? I haven’t seen him in years.”

  “He’s … he’s fine.”

  “I don’t understand. Who are you in relation to him?” Her eyes darkened.

  “From the park some years back … you don’t remember? I’m the mother of the boy who disappeared.”

  “Ah,” she said, as if now she recognised Victoria. “I don’t know if we should be doing this. Right now isn’t a good time for me—”

  Victoria cut her short. “I’ve driven all this way. Surely you can spare a minute?”

  Agostina paused then slowly welcomed her inside. On a love seat, a greying dark cat was curled up like a doughnut. Agostina led Victoria past an old sofa where a pile of pillows and bedspreads were heaped.

  “My daughter and her friend are visiting from Palermo in Sicily. She’s touring the city for the day with her friend, and she isn’t expected to be returning home until later.” Agostina went over to the love seat and tweaked the cat’s ear. “This is Princess.” The cat mewed and then bounded down and skipped into a litter box by the entryway. “She’s an old lady and has kidney failure,” she said as Victoria watched the cat. “She doesn’t know it but she has just a few more weeks of life left, then she’s on to whatever’s next.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Agostina showed her into a worn but orderly kitchenette, with neatly arranged full shelves and dated appliances, and she offered Victoria one of two chairs pushed into a half-circle of a table that was like a Turkish crescent moon.

  “Lovely table,” Victoria said. “Is it vintage?”

  “I’m not sure. I found it in the street one day. Someone had thrown it to the curb. Would you like me to take your coat?”

  The room was cool. “I’ll just leave it on, thanks. I have to say I’m intrigued by the rice outside. Do you know why it’s there?”

  “Someone inside the building is ill, so I threw a handful on their steps. In Sicily, we believe the rice will help them pull through.”

  The exposed ceiling beams in the small apartment were decorated with pressed and dried faded flowers dangling upside down by thick black ribbons. “What are those for?” Victoria asked, gesturing to the flowers.

  “They’re nothing,” Agostina said a bit sharply.

  Through a back window Victoria could see a little gated yard at the rear of the house. A healthcare worker’s uniform was drying on a washing line. She looked back at Agostina. The undersides of her hands were chapped, an indication of hard work.

  “Do you work in a hospital?” Victoria asked.

  A gold medallion with a cross was buried in the folds of Agostina’s dress. “You’re very nosy about me, no?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s rude of me—”

  “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know the word for it in your language. What I meant to say was, ‘You’re curious about me?’”

  “Well, yes, if that’s all right.”

  “Yes, I work in the hospital.” Agostina motioned to the still-fragrant bouquets hung on the beams. “Those are from all the weddings I’ve been to, including my sister’s.”

  “And you tied them with black ribbons?”

  “You would think white was a good colour, but it’s a very assuming colour. Using black at the start of the marriage gets any darkness the couple will suffer out of the way early on.”

  “There are so many.”

  “I’ve gone to many weddings but never to my own,” Agostina said pointedly. “My daughter’s father died before we could get married.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

  “She was raised mostly by my mother back home while I worked in this country and sent money back for her care. Would you like some coffee?”

  “I’m okay, thanks.” Victoria didn’t want to get too comfortable.

/>   Raindrops slapped against the kitchen windows and slid along the glass like melting snow. Agostina excused herself to bring in the laundry from outside.

  When she came back, Victoria said, “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

  Agostina sat down. “You want to see if I know anything about your son.”

  Victoria rushed to speak. “Yes. Please.”

  “I’m sorry but I don’t know any more than what I already told the police on your island.”

  “I promise I won’t tell the Bloomfields anything you say. It will be off the record. Anything you tell me right now will be between you and me. It will be kept secret. Why did you stop working for the Bloomfields? You left not long after what happened to my son, Paul.”

  Agostina paused, as though she was thinking. “I left on principle,” she said firmly. “Julian’s …”

  Victoria didn’t want to lose her trust, but she had to find out. “What did Julian do? Tell me.”

  “What do you think he did to your son? He was a small boy, as well, around the same age as your son, yes?”

  “He’s married to my daughter now. For my daughter’s sake, I’m trying to be happy for them, but I’ve always felt—”

  “I hope they are happy. I’m very sorry for your suffering, but I don’t know anything more than what I’ve already said. I’m very tired, having come from my job not long ago, so if that’s all you came for, then I would be grateful if you could please leave now.”

  “Just one more minute.” Victoria didn’t budge.

  “Please go now.”

  Victoria had driven four hours through heavy traffic only to have the questions she had saved for Agostina through the years remain unanswered. “I just won’t leave here until I have something.”

  Agostina’s eyes flickered in panic. She got up. “Please leave now, Mrs Gold.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Victoria rose. “You listen to me.” She drew in a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound angry. Please, hear what I have to say.”

  Agostina stepped back, but after a moment she nodded at her to go on.

  “Thank you for letting me stay. My daughter, Katie, has said Paul visited her. There’s no proof he isn’t alive. They never found anything indicating he wasn’t. I can’t leave until I know.” Victoria looked over at her. “And if anyone knows something, it’s you.”

  Agostina came over and held Victoria in a light embrace. Her hair touched Victoria’s face, and her warmth was unexpected. “Your daughter is a Reader. I saw the Mark on her temple that day at the playground.”

  Victoria pulled away from her. “What are you saying?”

  “She’s a Reader. Like me.” Agostina pointed to the blemish on her temple.

  “A Reader?”

  “Yes, we all have the same Mark.” Agostina motioned for her to sit down again and also pulled a chair out for herself.

  “I think my sister had one too. What does it mean?” Victoria said.

  “Some of us seek out the near-dead, but some kill people to channel the last energy a person gives off the moment they die, which takes us back to the most satisfying moments we’ve had in our lives. We all like to be among one another, and we like privacy from outsiders. We like isolation. That’s what attracts us to places like Blackthorn, or Sicily,” Agostina said with a faint smile.

  “This doesn’t seem real. It can’t be. Those birthmarks have to just be a coincidence. My sister never did any of those things.” Victoria moved her chair back so that some distance was between them.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I know she never hurt anyone. Have you?”

  “I resist the impulse to read. Your daughter obviously does also.”

  “What does this have to do with Paul?” A swell of anger bloomed in Victoria’s chest. Agostina reached for the counter behind her and plucked a tissue from a dispenser box. Victoria reluctantly accepted it. She sniffled and wiped her nose. “This is absurd.”

  “You don’t believe me? You want to leave here with something?” Agostina leaned in, her hand hovering then patting the edge of Victoria’s shoulder, tenderly straightening Victoria’s lapel. “I can tell you Mrs Bloomfield is unwell. She tried to kill herself when I was living with them. I saved her just in time. Maybe I shouldn’t have. She’s addicted to reading, and doing it is like a fix for her. One day in the early winter when Julian was young, I saw her baking a birthday cake with the devil’s breath syrup in the batter and in the white frosting. It wasn’t near the time of Julian’s birthday. The cake wasn’t for him.”

  “Devil’s breath – what’s that?”

  “It comes from South American trees. It makes people do everything they’re asked to do. Its liquid form can be injected. Taking too much of it can be deadly.”

  “You’re saying Elvina Bloomfield was involved in Paul’s disappearance? Why would she—”

  Agostina wiped a tear from her cheek. “I chose not to ask any questions. And for that, I’ll always be sorry.”

  Her remorse arrived too late for Victoria. “I know you didn’t call the police that day at the park. You lied to me. But I saw you calling someone. Who was it?” Agostina murmured, but Victoria couldn’t hear what she said. “What did you just say?” She kept her eyes locked on Agostina’s face.

  “My employer,” Agostina said quietly.

  Victoria made Agostina accept her phone number on a piece of loose-leaf paper she found in her coat pocket. Agostina took the slip of paper and held it lightly in her hand as if it might burn. She carefully slid it into her pocket. With a throaty sigh, she grasped Victoria’s arm, squeezing it lightly.

  “You should know the police can’t help you at this point. Only your daughter can. She’ll find out what she needs to do if she doesn’t know by now,” she said.

  The ride home felt like it would go on forever.

  ****

  The bell on the door of the Seahorse Stationery shop jingled as Katie took Molly inside while Julian left for a wine shop farther down the road.

  Katie found just the right notecards to use for Molly’s birthday party invitations. Molly tried to reach for the plastic sunglasses on display. Her cheeks were very pink. “I’m hot,” she said, and unfastened the toggles on her coat.

  Katie faced away from Molly, took some cash from her wallet and paid the store clerk. Something tapped on the shop’s large front window.

  “Hello,” Molly said.

  Katie turned around. “Who are you talking to?” She grabbed Molly’s hand. There was no one outside the window.

  Molly squirmed free of her hand and dashed to the door and the bell on it tinkled again. Katie’s attention snapped to Molly passing through the doorframe and running outside. “Wait for me,” she called out.

  Before Katie could pick up the shopping bag from the counter and run after Molly, the squeal of car brakes pierced through the quiet of the store. Katie wanted to move forward but couldn’t. Molly. Where was her daughter? What was happening? She was able to turn slightly and watched, helpless, as a car pulled off, screeching with the effort to accelerate. Katie thought she saw the license plate reversed in a mirror in the display window, one she recognised – DEVILB.

  Elvina.

  Katie heard a child crying, and a vision of a small boy hunched over in a corner with his back turned to her, facing a bright-white wall in a cellar-like room, appeared in front of her. She blinked and was back in the stationery store.

  The car was gone. Molly was lying in the road, motionless. Julian was kneeling at her side, tending to her. Skid marks were visible on the asphalt. The clerks scurried behind Katie. She was able to move her head a little to the right and looked at the door. Molly’s hand had left a milky-coloured print on the doorknob, like a small ghost’s fingerprints. Her hands shook and her legs twitched. She could move again.

  She dashed for the exit, pushing herself forward toward her daughter. She ran into the street where Molly lay. Her lungs were afire. Katie was
panting. It started to rain. Molly was still but conscious when Katie reached her. Katie was grateful to hear the unmistakable sound of police sirens on the usually peaceful street. She wondered how much Julian had seen.

  “Weren’t you watching her?” he said.

  “I …”

  “You shouldn’t have let her run outside.”

  “I … I couldn’t move.”

  He gave her a funny look, and she stayed with Molly while he asked a few bystanders if they had seen anything.

  A troop of police vehicles, blue lights flashing, arrived. The cops cut the sirens and cordoned off the street, permitting only an ambulance with a team of paramedics inside the yellow tape. People inside their homes pulled back window curtains and shopkeepers and customers stood outdoors watching as the paramedics took Molly’s vital signs.

  Police wearing orange raincoats pulled a traffic barrier out of a police van, then placed the barrier in the middle of the road and stood on either side of it. Traffic on the road in front of the shops came to a standstill. Molly was put on a stretcher and hoisted into the rear of an ambulance.

  An attractive red-haired policewoman walked up to Katie and clicked open her metal notepad case. “Ma’am, did you witness the accident? We’d like to take down your statement. I hope your mother’s doing better.”

  It took Katie a second to place the cop. “She is, Officer Donovan. Thank you.” By now, the island’s police must have associated her family with bad luck. About the accident, she just shook her head.

  “You didn’t see what happened?” Donovan asked.

  “Ask my husband.” Katie choked back tears as her chest heaved. Couldn’t Officer Donovan see she was in shock? “Ask him,” she repeated.

  Julian talked with the paramedics, arranging for Katie to ride to the hospital along with Molly. He stayed behind to talk with the cops and planned to drive to meet them at the hospital.

  Paramedics closed the ambulance doors once Katie was inside. The ambulance rattled as it rode behind the police cars escorting them. The metallic clanging mirrored how she felt, as if her bones were loose, as if she were coming apart.