A rare event at the U.S. Botanic Garden this week has turned our thoughts to murder (it doesn't take much, given the number of mystery stories and movies to which we subject ourselves). Visitors there were able to witness the blooming of the titan arum, affectionately known as the "corpse flower."
The giant corpse flower blooms irregularly and emits a smell that -- well, had the Germans been able to harness it during WW II, they would have won hands down. It is variously described as the "smell of rotting flesh," "a horrible, fetid smell," and "not unlike a typical teenage boy's bedroom*."
Offensive as its smell may be, we see hidden potential in this flower. It offers the PERFECT opportunity to cover up the fact that you have a body buried in your backyard, if this is the case.
Although our neighborhood does not have a formal watch program, several residents faithfully and diligently keep an eye out for any suspicious happenings or characters. Incredibly, the Hero and I, despite being highly suspicious characters (for one, we do not own a dog), we have never aroused anyone's suspicions. Yet.
On the contrary, we play an important, albeit self-appointed, role in helping to keep the neighborhood safe for all residents. This role is to:
1. Notice when any resident has not been seen for a while.
2. Figure out where the body is buried.
It may be that the Hero and I have overly active, morbid imaginations, fueled by the consumption of many more fictional mysteries than is healthy. In any case, when we notice that a neighbor seems to be missing, we usually see no reason to immediately jump to conclusions that are perfectly reasonable and logical, such as that the person is on vacation, or caring for an ill relative many miles away, or searching for a new neighborhood where the Hero and I do not reside.
So we are left with the conviction that a grievous crime has been committed, and our crime-detection instincts go into high gear. Who killed the person? Why? Did the criminal leave behind any clues, or possibly any chocolate that should be rescued?
But mostly, where did they hide the body?
"Does it look to you like So-and-So's garden has been dug up recently?" I might ask the Hero when we are in crime-detecting mode.
But our gardens are all quite small, and it would be difficult to go about burying a body without detection, not to mention that at least one of the roughly 697 dogs in the area would be likely to sniff it out and uncover it.
More likely, the body would disappear into the large forest behind our house. But with so many people -- and all those dogs - regularly walking the trails, this might be difficult as well.
Enter the corpse flower. What better way to disguise one's dastardly deed than by having a rotten-flesh-smelling flower nearby?
Of course, there would be obstacles. Obtaining the flower, which grows in Sumatra. Getting it to bloom just when you need it most. And making sure you are far, far away when it does bloom. But we're sure that enterprising criminals could find a way around these difficulties.
So beware, potential criminals. If ever we spot titan arum in the area, we'll be on to you. If the smell doesn't chase us away first.
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*According to several parents of typical teenage boys.
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