Read Online Cornwall and Redfern Mysteries 2-Book Bundle by Gloria Ferris - Free Book Online Page B

drifts in winter and dried-out lawns in summer.
    I hoped they were now strolling along a pebbled beach, listening to dolphins chatter in the distance, maybe drinking a margarita. I wouldn’t put it past them to be sharing a joint with real hippies. Apparently the authorities were more relaxed on the West Coast about the weed thing. Still, I couldn’t help wishing they would come home so I could move in with them.
    Hearing voices around back, I found Joy and Bob enjoying a couple of Bud Lights on the deck. They were a pleasant couple in their sixties, lean and wrinkled from the sun. With matching white hair, they looked like a pair of dandelions gone to seed. Bob was confined to a wheelchair, the result of a three-car pileup on the 401 two years previously. He was forced to retire from his toxicology professorship at the University of Guelph, and the couple had moved to Lockport where they had spent many summers sailing on nearby Lake Huron. Joy rose quickly from her wicker chair and came forward to greet me, with Bob rolling slowly down the ramp to the bricked patio area below the deck.
    They insisted on showing me around the garden, and I got a bit of a fright when I spotted some tall ferns enjoying the shade beside the shed wall. I sidled up to them for a better look and satisfied myself the plants were innocent. I had to get hold of myself. I was seeing the demon weed everywhere.
    After my brief visit, Joy and Bob accompanied me to the curb and waved me off. Passing the deck again, I glimpsed a couple of burning cigarettes in an ashtray on the small table and managed a good sniff. Bob saw my glance and said, “We only smoke outside. Your parents were quite adamant that they rent to non-smokers.”
    I kept my face neutral, but the smoke was definitely illegal — I was becoming quite the expert on that.
    Dougal was in his solarium spritzing his orchids. Some had dozens of white or pastel flowers on tall stalks; others were only a few inches high and not yet flowering. He had rearranged his marijuana plants, scattering them artfully among the tables of orchids.
    â€œIf anyone looks in the windows, they’ll see your grass. I’m surprised that hasn’t happened already.”
    He shrugged dismissively. “The gate is locked and no one can get in without coming through the house — and the hydro meter is on the side.”
    â€œSomeone could climb over the back fence from the cornfield,” I persisted.
    He snorted. “Who’s going to wade through a mile-long cornfield to climb over my fence?”
    â€œDougal, with this number of plants you could be charged with possession for the purpose of trafficking.” It was amazing what I remembered from typing Mike’s criminology papers at university.
    â€œNoted.”
    I walked closer to the Titan Arum. “Hey, this thing has grown a foot since I saw it yesterday.”
    The spadix was markedly taller, and a pink hue was showing through the cream-speckled green of the frilly spathe encircling its base. Looked at a section at a time, the thing had a bizarre kind of beauty.
    â€œAren’t you worried it will grow up through the glass ceiling and break it?”
    â€œIf you look up, dear Bliss, you’ll see the container is positioned directly beneath the section of the roof that I can open with this switch here. But it won’t grow that tall. You worry about everything. Are you sure you aren’t obsessive-compulsive?”
    It was my turn to snort at him. “That’s pretty funny coming from an agoraphobic.”
    â€œObviously, mental disorders run in the family. Think about it, you’re obsessed with getting back at Mike and seem willing to starve yourself to attain some form of justice that isn’t going to happen.”
    â€œYes, it will. I’m working on a new plan.”
    Simon shuffled out of his cage and cocked his head in my direction. “Baby, baby.” He opened and closed his