“Nature” is what we see—
The Hill—the Afternoon—
Squirrel—Eclipse— the Bumble bee—
Nay—Nature is Heaven—
Nature is what we hear—
The Bobolink—the Sea—
Thunder—the Cricket—
Nay—Nature is Harmony—
Nature is what we know—
Yet have no art to say—
So impotent Our Wisdom is
To her Simplicity.
When my wife and soul mate died from glioblastoma my heart shattered into 1000’s of pieces. I have five daughters, all who live out of state. The girls would do anything for me.
In my lowest moments, I decided to be an example to the girls. I wanted to show them it was possible to survive and thrive. This became my WHY. This became my motivation to get up and get going each day and not give in to depression and despair. Slowly, the sun began to shine, the birds began to sing, and I began to smile.
What is your why?
In your darkest moments, what “why” carried you through until your sun once again shined on you?
22
“The green leaf? We talking trees? The leaves are starting to turn, Bro. It’s going to be tough once they start falling off the trees. Is this twenty-two question? I love that game. Is it vegetable or mineral or a trapezoid? Notice how I combined three questions into one, that’s how you play to win,” said Pickle obviously proud of his intellect.
Fleming’s eyes turned blank. His jaw dropped a tad. Gillis came to his rescue, “Dill, it’s obvious Bro hasn’t learned this intellectual pursuit. Let me put it another way to him. Bro, what do you mean the answer is the green leaf?”
“The Green Leaf is a vegan restaurant. It is the answer to where I saw the cufflink. Sonata Vowel, the owner’s son has a set of cufflinks identical to the one in the picture. They’re solid gold and if you look carefully, you’ll see a tiny v scrolled on the bottom right. All vegan males are required to wear them once they’re admitted into the vegan club. First you have to be nominated. Then you have to be vetted. The vetting process is very strict. The vegans hire an outside firm to do a background check on you. If they find out you do not have vegan purity, you’re out. If you get past the vetting, you are interviewed. I’ve heard rumors of nominees leaving in tears after the interview. Sampson has gone through it twice and failed. He was devastated and went into a deep depression. He had to go through dialectical behavior therapy each time. I still don’t think he’s fully healed. I’m sure he failed because of my background. Fortunately for me, the committee never divulges the report. Sampson’s offered to have a DNA test to prove his purity. If he ever finds out I really a carnivore he’ll toss me out and blacklist me. He’s trying to get himself nominated a third time.”
“That’s nice,” said Gillis not listening to a word Fleming said. “It’s my turn to talk. When was the last time you saw Sonata?” asked Gillis.
“Last night. I remember it because his father, Treble Vowel, is the cook. He sent Sampson and me a special plate of Bolero, named after Ravel’s famous work.”
“Hold on,” stammered Pickle. “Who’s this Bolero and Ravel? You sure it’s not Bolero and Ravioli, the mobsters from Chicago?”
Fleming turned quickly to Gillis for an interpretation. Gillis looked up from his iPhone. He said, “What?”
“I need help, detective Gillis. Detective Pickle thinks Bolero is a mobster and Ravel is really Ravioli and their mobsters from Chicago.”
Gillis checked his iPhone. He was waiting for a response from Wendy about her side of the bed preference. Gillis preferred the side closest to the bathroom. He told her she could choose.
Gillis looked up at Fleming, “I’ve heard of them. What does the Chicago mob want with monkey innards. We answer that question, we solve the case.”
Fleming felt emotionally drained. He said, “Sonata wore the exact same cufflink.”
Pickle perked up. If he were a dog, one might think the owner said, ‘doggy treat.’ Pickle said, “Hold on, hold on, Bro.” He sets his cup down, “You said cufflink, not cufflinks.”
Fleming smiled, “Nice catch, Detective Pickle. Sonata is a nice guy. I didn’t want to get him in trouble. He’s got enough on his plate. Did you like my play on words? The Green Leaf restaurant. Enough on his plate?”
Gillis and Pickle stared blankly at Fleming.
Fleming continued, “Thing is, Sonata kept his right hand in his pants pocket. Never pulled it out while he was here.”
“That seems unusual to me. That strike you as strange, Bro,” said Gillis checking out photos of Wendy he took when she wasn’t looking.
“I have a theory about it, Gills. Maybe his boys were itchy,” said Pickle.
Gillis’ iPhone chimed. He looked at it and gave Pickle a wink. He opened the iPhone, tapped the messages app. He beamed, “Wendy agreed to sleep with me, Dill. This is the best day ever. I’ll have to buy a dozen ribbed for her pleasure rough rider condoms. We’ll use all of them.”
“I thought you didn’t like condoms,” said Pickle.
“I’m practicing being a sensitive male. Tomorrow, I’ll convince her to let me go a natural,” said Gillis.
“What did she say? You can read it front of Bro. He’s one with us now that he’s giving us free stuff under the table,” said Pickle.
Fleming nodded.
Gillis read Wendy’s text, “Sleep in your bed? Never!!!! I prefer the dump.”
Gillis commented, “Wendy wants to go camping. She likes to do it out doors. Bro, you know if Sampson has any camping equipment you can give me and add it to the robbery?”
Fleming’s heart rate accelerated. Why did I agree to give him the priceless china? Why did I agree to give them the expensive Jamaican coffee? Why am I listening to them? The questions raced around and around in his mind like a gerbil on a treadmill.
Pickle interrupted the pattern. He said, “Here’s what you do, Gills. Text Wendy and tell her all the camp sites at the dump have been previously reserved by the homeless. Let her know her bed is okay, even if the sheets still smell of Pat.”
“Brilliant, Dill. I’m sending it word for word. I owe you one,” said Gillis.
Pickle turned his attention back to Fleming, “Did you ask him if his boys were itchy? Was he scratching them with his right hand?”
Gillis stepped in before Fleming could answer, “That’s a sensitive issue with guys if you know what I mean, Dill. We each have our favorite way of scratching. Ball players like to do it on TV. Ballet dancers got to numb the area while they perform because their pants are so tight. Me? I prefer to turn my back to the crowd, suck in my gut and go right after the itch. It’s a full arm thrust.”
“That takes guts, Gills Back to you, Bro. Anything else about Sonata seem unusual.”
Fleming’s head felt like a salmon swimming upstream to spawn. He said, “Sonata asked if the police had any leads on the killers. I told him you guys were running in circles. No offense meant, it was before I knew we were all low blood sugar guys.”
Pickle stood up. He slammed his fist on the table hard enough to send the three rare, gold embossed China coffee cups and their plates to the floor. Fleming screamed, “I’m finished. It’s over. I won’t be able to show my face in town. Sampson is ruthless.”
Gillis patted Sampson on the back, “It’s okay big guy. Give me the rest of the set, it’ll make the robbery look better. When we leave, toss the rest in the garbage. While you’re packing my cups and saucers, Jamaican coffee and cheesecake, toss in the painting of the Reclining Nude by Modigliani.”
“It’s priceless. I can’t do that,” whimpered Fleming.
“That’s just it, Bro. I’m taking something off your hands that isn’t worth anything. I’ll grab in on the way out. No need to trouble yourself. It will go great in my man cave. Wendy will love it. We’re on our way to the veggie place. Snap it up with the goods. I expect to frolic in Wendy’s bed tonight.”
“If you need a good recommendation, use Gills and me for references. Our word goes a long way in this town,” said Pickle walking into the living room to view the painting he missed seeing on the way in.
“Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift” – Eleanor Roosevelt
21
Fleming was working on his third piece of cheesecake. He wiped the crumbs off his lips with a linen napkin, and said, “Sorry we got off to a bad start. I’m Mr. Sampson’s administrative assistant, butler, chauffeur, cook, and confidant. Between us low blood sugar people, I can’t stand the man, but the pay is great, and he gives me health insurance. My only job is to kiss his ass. It’s a tough job, but the pay is great. I personally think the man is a turd. Know what I mean?”
“Know what you mean, Bro. I can’t stand the man either,” said Gillis playing good cop as if he were seeking an Oscar for Best Actor.
“Question, Bro,” said Pickle. “Can I call you Bro instead of Flemo? Bro removes you from the suspect list. Flemo keeps you on the list. I want to make sure I get it right.”
“Fleming isn’t even my real name. Mr. Sampson made me change my name to fit his image. My real name is Lance Foggy. Please call me Bro. I’ll help you all I can.”
“Makes sense, Bro. I can see why Foggy wasn’t working. If it were me and I had to pick a name for you, I’d have chosen Froggy. See, that way I combine a classy name with your name. Easy to remember. Easy to spell,” said Pickle.
Gillis said, “Spot on, Dill. You know how to pull complicated issues together.”
Fleming, Foggy, Froggy, or Bro reached for another pieced of cheesecake. He spoke with a mouth half full, “Binging on sugar really elevates my my blood sugar level and gives me the sugar high I’ve been craving. Thanks for the tip, detective Gillis.”
Gillis said, “One more tip, always carry a candy bar with you. It will help in emergencies. If you notice a slight weight gain, pay no attention to it, it’s only your body readjusting.”
Gillis reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a glossy photo of the cufflink found inside the newly deceased. He slid it across the table to Fleming. “Ever seen one of these? We found it in another carved up monkey.”
Fleming reached for the photo, “What was the monkey’s name?”
“Phil, rhymes with pill, dill, chill, trill, mill, fill, kill . . .”
Gillis interrupted Pickle, fearful that his soliloquy might go on for hours. “Bro, take close look at the photo. I got a hunch you’ve seen the cuff link before. My hunches are usually spot on. It’s why I’m certain a certain woman by the name of Wendy will be spending the night with me.”
Fleming stared at the photo. He pushed it out to arm’s length. He pulled it closer to his face. He turned it toward the windows before turning back to Gillis, “I recognize it. Why?”
Pickle leaned toward Fleming while picking up the last piece of cheesecake. He said, “Man, you make this? It’s awesome. It’s the best cheesecake I’ve tasted.”
“Between us, Sampson thinks I cook. I send out for everything, including the cheesecake. It’s from the Cheesecake Factory.”
“You don’t cook?” asked Gillis.
“For one thing, if Sampson thought I ate anything with sugar in it, he’d fire me. He’s a health freak. He eats tofu. He eats kale. He nibbles on chia seeds. No wonder he still has a high voice. What makes it worse, he loves vegan food. Every night he wants vegan. I told him my mother and father were vegans and I was breastfed only with vegan milk.”
“Are you vegan?” asked Gillis.
“Hell, no. I need meat. My father was a butcher and my mother was a barbecue cook at Rolly’s. The reason I look so bad is because it’s hell living a lie,” said Fleming.
“It’s time you’ve come out of the carnivore closet. We’ll support you. I can put you in touch with a carnivore social support group. They meet at Barry’s Barbecue every Thursday evening,” said Gillis.
Pickle wiped the crumbs of the cheesecake off his plate with the tip of his forefinger, then started wiping them off Fleming’s plate. Pickle knew Gillis’ plate is off limits. It’s a seniority thing in the police department.
Fleming stood, picked up the three plates and put them in the dishwasher. He walked to the refrigerator and opened the Freezer. Gillis and Pickle stared at a freezer stuffed with frozen vegan dinners.
“While you’re at it, Bro, tell us about the cufflink. You said you saw it before,” said Gillis. “We’d like coffee. You use Maxwell House?”
“Who’s Maxwell House? Is it a new coffee shop? I’ve never heard of him. Sampson only orders the finest, smallest, richest coffee beans in the world. They’re grown on a single estate in Jamaica. Over a hundred dollars an ounce.”
“In that case, give Dill and me a pound each when we leave. I prefer my fine ground. Pickle prefers a coarse ground,” said Gillis.
“Considered it done. I like to short change his turdness whenever I can. How do I know about the cufflink you ask?”
“That’s what we’re asking, we don’t know how you know about the cufflink. We think it’s the clue to the murders,” said Pickle. “ He added, “I could go for another piece of cheesecake and Jamaican coffee.”
“Where do you pack that away, Dill,” asked Gillis trying to keep the conversation rolling.
“I got high cannibalism. It runs in the family,” said Pickle using a credit card to floss his teeth.
“You mean metabolism,” said Gillis immediately regretting what he said.
“Two easily confused words, metabolism and cannibalism. Metabolism refers to music. You ever hear of heavy metal or Metallica? Heavy metal evolved into heavy metabolism and Metallica took it the rest of the way. Cannibalism is how fast you burn up your cannibals. You know some foods are high cannibals and others are low cannibals.”
Fleming was about to speak. Gillis cautioned him to stop. He said, “Dill is a master of linguistics. It’s better to accept whatever he says as accurate. I’ve seen some question his mastery and it never turns out pretty. Eventually, they’ll admit they’re wrong.”
Fleming poured two cups of the expensive and rare Jamaican coffee, brought them to Gillis and Pickle in rare fancy gold embossed China cups. He placed a quarter of a cheesecake in front of Pickle. “I’ll give you each a cheesecake along with the coffee when you leave.”
“Nice cups. I could use two cups tonight to set the scene with a new lover,” said Gillis.
“They’re very rare,” said Fleming.
“Before we leave you can file a stolen property report. Dill and I will quickly investigate and file it away under unsolved crimes. File your insurance claim and we’ll back you,” said Gillis.
“It’s seems highly irregular,” said Fleming.
“Happens all the time, Bro. Cops are paid pitiful wages and this is how we supplement. It’s a win-win situation,” said Gillis.
Fleming said, “I’ve never done anything like this. It’s, it’s kind of exciting.”
“You’re getting a taste of the dark side, Bro. It can be addictive,” said Pickle finishing up the cheesecake.
“Now, about the cufflink,” said Gillis. “Man this coffee is smooth, dark, and rich. Love it. Make it two pounds each when we leave.”
“The Green Leaf. That’s the answer,” said Fleming.
I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome” – Anne Bradstreet
