Cornish Heath

Nellie was near the rear of the shoppe when her aunt opened the door for the killer.

It was a little past normal closing time for Flowry. That is the name of the thriving floral boutique that is run by her aunt.

Nellie has worked there for several years.

The front door to Flowry was a milky glass; this did not lend itself to knowing who was on the other side of the portal.

There were two large windows to either side of the door; but if you didn’t see who was coming, through one of those windows, then it was a surprise when they entered through the front door.

It was as much a surprise as any baby coming into this world; despite how many old wives said that it must be a boy, or girl because you’re “carrying the baby” this way or that in your pregnant belly.

As surprises go; this was not a good one. This surprise was somewhere along the lines of the Dr. telling you that maybe you want to go to a drier climate because it would be better for you: would give you more “time.”

She saw her aunt open the door; more to poke her head out and speak to whoever was on the other side, than to actually grant access. It was slightly past normal closing time for Flowry after all.

It had been an unusual day in the city; what with the unprecedented snowfall in June.

From her vantage point in the rear of the store she was unable to see who was at the door; but she did hear her aunt speaking to them. She couldn’t quite make out what her aunt was saying, and she was going to go about her normal business of closing up the floral boutique; but then her aunt did something that sent a chill through Nellie.

With her head still poking slightly out the front door; her aunt had taken her right hand from the door itself and lowered it behind her back, and then with her right hand forming the “OK” sign, she had vigorously moved her hand back and forth.

The gesture in and of itself would have been meaningless to anyone who did not know Nellie’s aunt very well. It was 100 percent: an “inside joke”; only this was not funny.

Nellie had been living with her aunt for several years after her father had gone to War, and not returned. Her father was her aunt’s younger brother; only living brother, before he went to War, so she was taken in by her Aunt. Nellie’s mother had passed years before the War; and she had no other brothers or sisters. Her aunt had taken her in and given her a place to live and work. More importantly she had given the girl “family.”

Nellie worked at Flowry, and lived above the shoppe in one of the spacious rooms. Her aunt and cousin Teague lived above the shoppe with Nellie as well. They were her family now; and had been for several years.

When her aunt made that gesture; which stopped Nellie in her tracks, the young girl looked about for a place to hide. There was a back door; to an alley, and also a door on one side of the shoppe that lead to the living space above the boutique where Nellie had her room. Both of those doors would have had her cross the shoppe and come into view of whoever was on the other side of the portal that her aunt was currently holding firm, while conversing with the person on the other side of the door.

There was a lovely fireplace in the salon above the shoppe. This was where; more often than not, Nellie would have her meals, with her aunt and cousin Teague.

One of her favorite things in the evening was sitting in front of the fireplace, and listening to her aunt talk. Teague’s mother would talk about growing up in the old country. He aunt had a gift for story telling; and most of her stories were whimsical, and many were funny, some quite hilarious. But when the weather was dreary, or her aunt had a few glasses of sherry with dinner; then she would tell other stories.

The shoppe keeper would talk about lean times; about losing friends and family to consumption. She would talk about a time when there was a conflict in the city between rival factions; and that there were attacks on the street and even in people’s homes. Her aunt would talk about how her father was involved with one of the factions; and that he had a signal that meant “danger.” When her father made that signal; it meant that you needed to hide, and do it quickly. That signal meant that death could literally be at the door.

Her aunt made that signal; and it made Nellie worry. Near the rear of the store where she was working, there was an open wooden bin where they would toss the detritus of their floral trade. It wasn’t overly large; maybe three feet by three, by four feet high. It was currently half full of stalks, flowers, loose baby’s breath and what not.

Nellie made a quick decision and moved to the bin; and stepped over and into it.

She was a lovely girl: at least that’s what everyone had told her for most of her life. She was on the taller side for a woman; close to 176 centimeters, but slender. Nellie knew that she could easily crouch in the bin and not be seen; so that is what she did.

As She crouched below the edge of the bin; she heard, more than saw her aunt open the front door to admit the person from the doorstep.

The shoppe was very aromatic; as it was still half full of various plants and flowers, even at closing time. Nellie could smell the pleasant scent of Cornish Heath, because there was a bit of it in the bin with her.

The smell of the bell shaped lilac flower made her think of the large man who came in several times a week to pick up bundles of it. Fitz was a big man, who worked for that Penrose fellow. She didn’t care for the leader of the enterprise; but she did think that Branok was sweet on her. And for her part; the prospect of his attentions were somewhat exciting.

Everyone knew the enterprise troubleshooter by his surname, which was Fitz: but she had overheard Mr. Penrose calling the big man Branok. The head of the enterprise that ran the West Side of the city had a habit of referring to everyone he dealt with on a regular basis, by their given name, as opposed to their surname. Once she learned the big man’s name; she couldn’t help but think that he looked more like a “Bran”, so that is how she referred to him.

She found it amusing that she learned her own cousin Teague’s given name from his employer. Everyone called her cousin Teague, which was his surname. Even her cousin’s own mother, Nellie’s aunt, referred to her son as Teague.

She had never thought to inquire after his given name; so when she first heard Penrose call her cousin Jowan, it took her several moments to realize that he was referring to her cousin Teague.

She struggled to see through the gaps in the boards that made up the bin. She could see glimpses of her aunt and a handsome man.

The man was tall; not near as tall as Bran, but close to her cousin Teague in height. But whereas her cousin was built very solid; with broad shoulders and powerful arms, the handsome man was more lean. She couldn’t help but think he was more like a Panther to her cousin’s Tiger.

The handsome man looked about the shoppe from the entry way and after he stepped in, he linked arms with the shoppe keeper.

From her vantage point, Nellie could see that the man was well dressed. She watched the two as they walked slowly down the aisles. They stopped at several different points and she could see her aunt gesturing towards the flowers or plants that they were near.

The two were speaking as they walked, but Nellie had a hard time making out the words. At least her aunt didn’t seem distressed: Nellie thought that odd, since she had seen her aunt make that desperate gesture.

At one point; they stopped by a bundle of flowers and her aunt plucked a bloom from the bunch and she could see her aunt place it in the lapel of the man’s jacket. The two of them were closer than they had been during their rambling about the store; so she heard her aunt say, “a handsome lad like yourself needs a flower in his lapel.”

From her place in the bin, Nellie could see the man’s smooth, handsome features. He had a distinct Mediterranean look about him. His hair was darker even that Bran’s, who had hair black as pitch. She felt a little uneasy at her aunt’s choice of flowers for the man’s lapel. It had been a black Chrysanthemum that the shoppe keeper had placed in the handsome man’s lapel.

After the man had said “thank you Mrs.”, in a silky tone, they had walked a little more down another aisle.

Nellie watched the handsome man walk; and couldn’t help compare the way he moved to Bran, or her cousin Teague: or even their employer – Mr. Penrose-. Each of those men had a way of moving that made Nellie think they were dangerous. This man moved in a similar fashion.

He was graceful in his movements; and matched her aunt’s steps perfectly, as if they were in a dance.

They stopped near a bundle of Cornish Heath: Nellie could not help thinking, “some call it Wandering Heath”, and the handsome man leaned over to smell the lilac flowers. After he straightened up, he spoke some more to his aunt, though Nellie was unable to make out what he said.

She tensed as she watched the man pull something out of his jacket pocket and offer it to his aunt for inspection. The item in his hand was a straight razor with an ivory handle. Her aunt was clearly reluctant to handle it; and did not even reach out to take it. It was actually almost beautiful; even though it made her shiver to look at. Before the man put it back in his pocket Nellie did hear him say; “found it in an antique shoppe on Fleet Street.”

The pair walked down another aisle; and made their way toward the door at the rear of the shoppe. Nellie heard her aunt say;” well of course I have to lock up.” She watched her aunt lock the back door and then the handsome man took her aunt’s arm in his and walked towards the front of the store.

They spoke as they walked; and Nellie clearly heard her aunt say, “I’m worried.” Whatever else she had to say was unclear as they were moving away.

Her aunt stopped at the door to turn out the shoppe lights. As she did this; her aunt looked to the rear of the store and Nellie knew that her aunt knew where she had been hiding.

Nellie heard the tinkle of the little bell as her aunt closed the door and left with the killer.