The Suicide Tree

The telephone rang for the 7th time. She was too hysterical to receive it. Earlier this week, on the 4th of July, she lost her daughter to, what the townsmen called, 'a road traffic accident'. Today, she mourned the death of her husband. Her statement to the police : '... woke up at 6 ... grocery ... returned ... hanging off the ceiling... got him down... the police...' That was what Meryl gathered while serving tea to a dozen neighbours, who were mumbling and gesticulating at one another. The officers carried the cold clammy body of the 40 year old man into an ambulance, off for an autopsy. The neighbours left one by one. It was 3 hours past noon according to the clock on the mantelpiece. Mrs Blossom had not budged from her arm chair. 'Would you like some tea , Mrs Blossom ?', Meryl asked, nervously. She waited for a few seconds. When she received no reply, she got back to work . She washed the dishes, trimmed and watered the plants, settled the cushions and wiped the floor. The house looked as good as new. No visitor, just by the looks of the house, could express the faintest doubt about the fact that the woman who lived here had lost her husband and her daughter over a span of just a week.

The family of three was a happy family. Mr Blossom was a businessman. Blossom's Maple Syrup was a name familiar to every household in this town. He was a cheerful man with few enemies.

Mrs blossom was an pompous lady. One, who would celebrate her dog's birthday, by inviting half the town over for dinner. She loved to fill her garden with exotic varieties of plants.

Daphne Blossom was an 18 year old girl. She was the head of her school's cheer leading squad. She lived a lavish living.

Meryl was the housemaid, working at the Blossom household for 3 months now. Orphaned at an early age, she took to housekeeping to earn a living and she took her work seriously.

The sun set and darkness shrouded the small town of Thornhill. Meryl placed some firewood in the furnace and set it ablaze. It was getting cold outside. Mrs Blossom had fallen asleep on the chair. Meryl sat by the fire, grabbed a needle and began sewing designs on colourful pieces of cloth. The doorbell rang. The sudden buzz of the bell caused Meryl to freeze for a while. She pulled herself together. 'Wh ... Who is it ?', she called out. 'It is the investigating officer, ma'am', the man at the door called back, 'We have the autopsy report'. Meryl walked slowly towards the door. She was stopped by Mrs Blossom. 'I'll get it' , she said. Her face was pale. Her eyes had shrunk into their orbits. She let the officer in, sat him down near the fireplace and sat opposite to him. A table in between them. The officer was a young man in his mid twenties. He was of proper build and moderate stature. Meryl left their company and hurried into the kitchen, excusing herself to make tea for the duo. She wanted to know what the autopsy revealed but she knew better than to stay in that room at that moment.

The kettle whistled. Her hands shook as she poured the liquid into cups and placed them on a tray.

As she walked from the kitchen to the living room, she heard faint whispers of solemn exchanges :

"It couldnt have been... You should have tried harder . He didn't."

"It is what it is, Mrs Blossom. The reports have confirmed that it was but a suic..."

"NO", Mrs Blossom yelled.

Meryl was at the door.

"First my daughter, then my husband. You need to get to the depth of it, officer. It was murder, I say. MURDER."

Placing the cups on the table, Meryl calmed Mrs Blossom back to her seat.

'We are doing our best, Mrs Blossom. Do call us if we can help you in any other way', said the officer, gravely, as he left.

Mrs Blossom wiped her tears. Then, she looked at Meryl and smiled. The first smile in a week.

That night Meryl couldn't sleep. She rolled over her mattress every now and then... By the time the police arrived, the body was on the floor ; a noose tightly encircling the poor man's neck. But Meryl had arrived before the police did. She had entered the room only to find Mrs Blossom doubled up over her husband's corpse. She was the one who frantically called for help while her mistress cried over her husband. Tears leaving dark stains over her white face. The thought of it made Meryl sit up on her bed. She wondered. She calculated. Mrs Blossom's smile. It didnt make sense.

She heard whispers in the dark. It seemed to come from the backyard garden. She put on her night robe and left her room. In the backyard she saw the silhouette of Mrs Blossom. She stood beneath a tree that bore white flowers, a lamp in her hand. She was conversing with a hooded figure. Meryl strained her ears to hear them, but in vain. She watched as she caressed the man behind the hood. As she leaned upon the door, it creaked. Afraid that she might be caught eavesdropping, she ran back to her room. She didnt know what to do. She suspected Mrs Blossom of having murdered her husband. She needed to inform the officer. And she needed to do it now. She feared for her life. She ran down the street. The police station was empty and locked on the outside. She wondered where the deputies were. She felt unsafe. A lonely girl out in the streets in her nightrobes at this hour, she trembled. She decided to wait outside. As she turned she saw the officer standing behind her. She let out a scream before she was muffled and asked to calm down. Letting out a sigh of relief, Meryl opened up about the nights events and her suspicions. The officer heard her out. He unlocked the door to the station and asked her to sit. He then went to another room and got two cups of lukewarm coffee. That seemed considerate as it was cold outside.

The officer asked, 'Have you ever loved a man , Meryl ?'

Meryl blushed as she nodded a no. She drank from her cup.

'Then you wouldnt know how it is to lose a lover and have people cover it up as a road accident', the officer said.

Meryl spat out her coffee.

'What do you mean ?', she gasped .

'I loved Daphne. She was a happy girl. Smart. Vivacious. She loved me too. Mr Blossom's business was not as clean as it looked on the outside. It was messy and murky on the inside. His family knew it. I'm sure you did too, Meryl', the officer smirked.

Meryl gaped in silence.

'On 4th of July, Daphne told her Dad about our relationship. And that she wanted us to get married. Mr Blossom was against the idea. So, Daphne threatened to reveal about her Daddy's little scam. Enraged, he hired men to kill her and throw her car with her inside it off the cliff.'

Meryl felt a sharp pain in her chest.

'I need to hurry with my story. It tends to work rather fast', the officer continued, 'Mrs Blossom learnt about this a day later. She was ruined by her daughter's death. She decided to avenge her. And who would have been a better accomplice than the investigating officer himself.'

'Water' , Meryl said, 'I need water'. The cup fell off her hand as she slipped off her chair.

'Have you ever wondered what plants grow in Mrs Blossom's garden ? The ones you water every morning and evening ?', the officer taunted, 'The seeds from the tree we stood beneath is what killed Mr Blossom. The Suicide Tree. And look what it is doing to you too.'

Meryl collapsed.

'I am sorry, Meryl. We just can't let you live with this knowledge', she heard a woman say.

The mist thickened outside as Mrs Blossom and the officer looked down at the girl dying before them.