Kiss of the Moonflower

By Joe Benevento

When Professor Veronica Teuma decides to spend part of her sabbatical visiting and studying the “intentional communities” of rural Missouri, Tony Cupelli believes she is at least partly motivated by a desire to escape their complicated relationship. When Tony loses contact with Veronica, he convinces his NYPD detective brother Mike to accompany him to search for her at the two communes where she was last seen. Tony and Mike, two Italian-American working-class born and bred brothers from Queens, are enormously out of their element in both small town northern Missouri where they first search for clues (and are appalled by the town’s version of pizza,) and then all the more at the “Champions of Possibility” and the “Discerning Wolverine Ecovillage” communes, where a group of highly educated “woo-woo” loving millennials, are immersed in a world focused on sustainability and a rejection of conventional society, a world featuring compost toilets, sun ovens, oddly constructed houses, new-pagan celebrations and rituals and the periodic tolling of the “Bell of Mindfulness.”
The Cupellis decide to rent a cabin at the Discerning Wolverine, and immerse themselves in the daily work of the community in hopes of finding some clue to Veronica’s fate. This plan upsets Jonas Lundquist, a part-time member of the Wolverine community and a chemistry professor at the local university, who insists that Veronica left the Wolverine alive and well. A woman from the nearby Champions of Possibility commune, Angela Tramontana, seems attracted to Mike, but also anxious to get the brothers to give up their search. With the help of two other women from the Discerning Wolverine, Tillie and Starr, the brothers locate a tremendous field of Datura, otherwise known as “moonflower,” and later an ambitious plot to cultivate and mass distribute the unregulated, highly hallucinogenic and toxic plant, which they discover Lundquist has been studying in search of a way to make it less dangerous to use. While most of their suspicions center on Lundquist it becomes less certain whether he is the mastermind or an unwitting participant in a major new illegal drug scheme. The deeper the Cupelli Brothers probe into the secrets of the Discerning Wolverine, the more they recognize that to find Veronica Teuma and save her (and themselves as well), they will have to figure out which if any of the members of the two intentional communities they can actually trust with their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Opal Books
• Release date: Oct 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781644372876

Book preview

Chapter 1

Tony was worried about Veronica. She had given him the times when it would be okay to call at the Discerning Wolverine, which weren’t many, and she had warned him that sometimes even those would be inappropriate, if, for example, the Bell of Mindfulness had just been rung. Still, he had called five times in the last twenty-four hours, all at times Veronica had said were permissible, and she hadn’t answered one call. Multiple texts had also gone unanswered. Tony was set to try yet again when his father called out to him.

Hey, Tony, get your head out of the refrigerator for a minute and come in here, will ya?His father yelling at him was as familiar to Tony as the rest of this house in Queens where he had grown up, from the Sacred Heart picture of Jesus staring at him from the door out of the kitchen to the dusty chandelier whose lights never all worked at the same time, which he passed in the dining room on the way to see what Angelo Cupelli wanted from him in the living room. He moved quickly since he was home for the day precisely to keep an eye on his elderly parents until his sister Beatrice returned from work. His urgency seemed unwarranted when his father looked at him calmly, pointed to the television and asked:

Who’s this one guy there?

That’s Kirk Douglas, no?

No, not him. Sure that’s Douglas, but who’s the other guy, the stocky one?

I don’t know. He looks a little familiar, but I don’t know his name.

Geez, I thought you knew everything, Angelo chuckled. "Ain’t he the guy from that old show, you know, the one with the, oh, yeah, The Life of Reilly, right?"

That’s a little before my time, Dad.

You ain’t never seen the reruns?

Maybe, I guess, but I still don’t know the guy’s name.

Big help you are.

Well, I can be. These days you can find out about anything, and quick. What’s the name of the movie?

How should I know? I just put it on.

Do you recognize it, Mom? Tony asked his mother, who was listening to both men with a look that registered even a little more annoyance than usual.

No, why would I? I don’t even like detective movies, but you know your father—anything with a gun in it.

Sorry, Mom. Maybe it doesn’t have too much longer to go?

"I don’t think it’s close to ending, but how would we know that? It was on already when I found it. Plus we don’t get the Guide no more since we got all these cable channels. I mean, who can keep up?" Angelo said.

Well, here, give me the remote and I’ll show you something. Look, anytime you want to know what show is on, just push this arrow and then it’ll tell you the name of the movie and even tell you how much longer it’s got. Plus push it again and it will tell you what’s on next.

Tony pushed the arrow, found Detective Story, with more than an hour to go, with The Strange Loves of Martha Ivers to follow. It must be Kirk Douglas noir film day on TCM Tony thought, but decided not to share that news with his mother.

"So, look, on this smart phone here now I can google Detective Story and we can find out the whole cast in a second."

Nah, don’t do me no favors, Angelo responded.

Why not?

Because it ain’t smart, it’s stupid.

How’s that?

Everything now’s gotta be computers. You can’t watch a movie or ,say, argue over who hit the most homers in 1959 without you or one of your sisters running to find out on the computer, which they even have now in your telephones. That’s a stupid phone, not a smart one.

So wondering and not finding out or just sitting here arguing is better somehow?

Yes, believe it or not, wise guy, it is. Why ain’t it better to have a conversation, to use your brain, test your memory? I’ll figure this out in a second; I don’t need no computer.

Tony was accustomed to his father’s famous stubbornness, which he traced back proudly to his Calabrese heritage, people so known for being thick-headed that they had sayings about them all over Italy, but this seemed sillier than usual to him. But before he could get to pointing that out, Angelo blurted:

Bendix. William Bendix, that’s who it is.

Once he said the name Tony knew his father was right. How’d that come to you?

Angelo Cupelli’s eyes twinkled with self-satisfaction as he explained:

I was thinking of that time we was watching an old movie, that war picture with Brando and Dean Martin and that tall blonde that was married to Sammy Davis for about two minutes, and you kept complaining about your stomach, and your mother there, she said you wasn’t never one to complain so it must be something serious, and, me, I didn’t want to hear it. I figured you’d just eaten too much, like usual, plus it was a pretty good movie, so we waited till the next day and you was feeling even worse and they said it was your appendix, it almost burst, and old Dr. Meltz was mad at us for waiting too long, which I guess was only fair, plus he was a good doctor, not like today when they won’t ever come to your house—as if they’re afraid they’re gonna catch whatever you got. But, anyway, I always felt bad about that, but you came through it okay, thank God.

Tony was used to his father’s style, so his eyes were registering more amusement than frustration as he asked. What the heck does any of that have to do with this movie?

Again you’re not listening. Appendix—Bendix! For some reason this guy was making me think of that time with your appendix, which is, I guess because it rhymes—and you, you’re the one that likes poetry, but I figured it out. See, that’s how you figure something out.

But, Dad, I mean, seriously.

I am serious. Sometimes it’s better to just figure things out for yourself.

Tony retreated back to the kitchen. Before he called Veronica, though, he could not resist looking up Detective Story and William Bendix, somehow to confirm what he already knew was true, followed by a quick investigation toward discovering that it was Eddie Matthews who had led the major leagues in home runs in 1959 with 46. He then could not help thinking what a great trivia question his father had supplied him with, since most people would probably guest Aaron or Mays or Mantle for that honor. Now feeling guilty about the delay, Tony put his phone to its most fundamental use to call Veronica Teuma, off somewhere in the wilds of northeast Missouri, at some intentional community. Her cell phone rang five times, two more and it would go to message, but this time a voice interrupted the ringing. A woman’s voice. But it was not Veronica’s.

Yes, hello. The voice was soft and might have passed for soothing if it hadn’t surprised Tony by its unfamiliarity.

Hello, who is this please? I’m calling to speak to Veronica Teuma.

Moonflower.

Oh, hello, Moonflower, Tony responded to a name that seemed too stereotyped not to be real. This is Veronica’s cell isn’t it? Can I speak to her?

No, silly.

No, I can’t speak to her? Why not?

No, not that. My name isn’t Moonflower.

Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you said it was. Tony was quickly getting the impression that this woman was maybe high on something other than life.

Well, it isn’t. You asked about Veronica, right? So I told you ‘moonflower.’ Don’t you get it? She’s flying, flying now.

Flying? How? Where? She’s left Missouri?

The woman giggled. Yes, yes, I bet she has, although I can’t say for sure, of course.

I don’t understand. Is there someone else I could talk to, Miss, Miss….

Kissed by the moonflower. Don’t worry. It’s beautiful, wonderful—not like before. I’m going to fly soon again myself, but I wanted her to have her turn, and I—hey, hey that’s mine; I found it, I…

The woman’s last words were interrupted, the last few barely audible. It seemed someone had wrested the phone away from her.

Hello. Hello. Who is this now? I’m calling for Veronica Teuma. Excuse me, I…

The phone went dead. Tony hastily called the number again. It didn’t go to message. Veronica Teuma’s cell phone did not ring at all.

Chapter 2

There was a time when Tony Cupelli would never have considered calling his just older brother Mike for help. There was a time, in fact, when his NYPD detective brother had been unbearable to be around, ready as he always was to point out to Tony the hypocrisies in his life as a high profile monsignor, hypocrisies that had culminated in the accusations and disgrace Tony had earned after the death of his friend since childhood, Maggie Rosario. But ever since Tony had been cleared as a suspect in the Rosario case and especially since he had given up the priesthood, Mike had found fewer reasons to judge his brother’s life. Now Tony Cupelli was a regular citizen again, no longer feigning a righteousness he did not really possess, so it was easier to ask his always honest brother for help.

In the time before Tony’s sister got back from her work as a sixth grade teacher at St. Sebastian’s in Woodside he had made a few long distance calls to try to find out more about where Veronica could be. Once Beatrice arrived and was able to be there for their parents, Tony placed his call to Lieutenant Mike Cupelli.

Calm down, were Mike’s first words of advice. I don’t know why you need to jump to the conclusion that she’s missing. Maybe she just changed her plans; maybe she lost the cell and some nut found it and Veronica doesn’t know you’re freaking out so hasn’t gotten around to finding a phone to call you with. Some of those places she’s visiting don’t even have phones, right? That’s the whole idea, right—she’s roughing it with them.

You don’t think I already thought of all that and know about which places have phones and where she was scheduled to be now? What do you take me for?

That’s a sweet set-up line, Ton’, but I know you’re upset, so I’m going to let it go. Tell me what you know, then.

"Well, she was supposed to be at this little Rose of Sharon Catholic Worker place outside of Dorado, Missouri by now but they don’t have a phone, so I called the place right near them, the Champions of Possibility, which was the other place she said she might go next, and they went ahead and checked for me because they hadn’t seen her yet, and they told me the Catholic Worker people said she never got over there either. So, I called the place she was at before the Catholic Workers.

How many of these crazy places can there be?

"Well, this one’s close to an hour from the other two I’ve mentioned. It’s what they’re calling an ‘Ecovillage,’ the Discerning Wolverine, and…."

You’re not serious. The what kind of Wolverine?

Never mind the name now, okay? They do have a phone and I talked to this one guy and they said they haven’t seen Veronica for two days.

And she was definitely supposed to be at the other place next, the Rose place?

Yes, they told me they were expecting her but just figured maybe she had changed her schedule and since they don’t have a phone, they weren’t worried when she didn’t show.

But apparently you are.

Of course I am. She’s been missing, essentially, for two days. No one has seen her rental car, she’s not called me, or been in touch with anybody at Holy Cross and…

Well, why would she be? She’s on vacation from there right?

Sabbatical, yes, but still. And she hasn’t checked in with that one sister of hers, the one from Pittsburgh, remember; you met her last Christmas time.

Yeah, she was nice, but how often do you talk to your sisters when you’re not right here in Queens? It doesn’t prove anything.

Okay, sure, but I’m still really worried about her, especially since some nut had her phone. I mean, even if ‘Moonflower’ just found the phone, like she said, that still means Veronica lost it.

Yeah, well she wasn’t used to even having one, right? You just bought that thing for her, what, a few weeks ago. She’s probably not even missing it.

You can try to make this look as good as you want, but the truth is, she’s missing, has been for two days. And in the middle of nowhere.

And that’s just where you want me to spend a week’s vacation, right?

I know it’s a lot to ask, but you’re an experienced investigator, you’ll have more pull with the local authorities, if it comes to that, plus you like Veronica, and she might really be in trouble.

Yes, I like her a lot; she’s easily the best thing that ever happened to you, but I still think it’s too early to be this worried. Do you have anybody else you can call there in Missouri who might know something?

I think a few people at the local University are connected somehow to one of these places, but Veronica didn’t give me a person to contact, which means all the more we need to get there, okay?

Mike said nothing for a few beats, but before Tony could repeat the request he heard:

Sure, why not? I’ve got three weeks I haven’t used and no plans and it’s already September. In fact, they’ve been bugging me to take some days. I’ll see if I can clear it and we’ll go and take a look.

So, you’re worried too then?

Nah, it’s too early for that, but, hey, a week in ‘the middle of nowhere’ with you as my only companion—I mean what travel agent could compete with that plan?

I’ll make the reservations as soon as I hear back from you then. Thanks so much, man.

No problem, Mike responded. After he hung up he thought to himself that spending up to a week straight with his uptight brother, in some totally out of the way place, while searching a bunch of communes to try to figure out where Veronica Teuma might be would certainly be something different, maybe, it some odd sort of way, even entertaining, provided, of course, that Veronica could be located and would still be alive when they found her. .

Chapter 3

How much do I weigh? How much do you weigh, ace? I bet you got a good twenty pounds on me, but you don’t see me asking you, right?"

It’s just for purposes of weight distribution sir, it’s nothing personal. We ask everybody—it’s to balance the plane.

Both Cupelli brothers had thought navigating St. Louis’s Lambert Field airport would be unchallenging, after a lifetime of dealing with the madness of LaGuardia or Kennedy in Queens. What they hadn’t anticipated was no one in the airport seeming to know where Green Hills airlines was located, a sign not inspiring confidence in the little airplane they were soon to board, on their way to the small town of Baldwin, MO. When they finally did find Green Hills, off, almost apologetically, in an obscure corner of the large airport, Mike Cupelli was in no mood to be questioned about much of anything, including how much he weighed.

Don’t make a scene, Mike, Tony counseled his brother, but he knew the advice would be futile.

So, it’s just for weight distribution and you have to know how much we all really weigh—do I have this right? Mike asked.

Yes, that’s right, sir.

Wow, you mean my life might depend on how honest everyone is about how much they weigh? Mike asked with less anger and more sarcasm. I mean, there were just four women in front of us in line, three of them not exactly super-model material if you know what I’m saying.

We make adjustments based on our own observations when needed, sir, the young man conceded, with the infinite patience of a clerk who never had a long line to move along for an airplane whose maximum seating capacity was ten.

Well, fine then. I’m one seventy-five. And that’s my final offer.

Tony Cupelli just smirked a little bit before reporting his own weight at one eighty-seven. He knew both he and his look-alike brother were each carrying at least 190 pounds on their 6’ 1’’ frames, but he found he couldn’t be absolutely honest about that either.

The Cessna 402 had seven passengers for this trip to Baldwin and it took off on time for its one hour flight up to northeastern Missouri. Once the plane was in the air the engine noise was so loud as to make conversation almost impossible, but Mike Cupelli tried anyway.

Can you believe how loud this little piece of junk is? If we land in one piece I’m going to start going to church again.

Relax, man, Tony advised. They fly this route three times a day. In ten years they’ve only had one crash, I read.

Yeah, well, then they’re due, Mike shouted back. The middle-aged woman directly behind the Cupellis, gave a furtive, concerned glance at the two, neatly-bearded, Mediterranean—looking men shouting at each other, a look Mike somehow caught as he looked around the plane.

Don’t worry, lady, if the plane doesn’t get you, I sure won’t. See, I’m one of the good guys.

Mike flashed his badge at her, which only seemed to embarrass the woman. He turned away with his first smile since he had arrived in Missouri.

Once the plane had reached its cruising altitude the pilot appeared among the passengers. To the Cupellis he seemed more like a teen dressed as a pilot for Halloween, his tall, skinny frame loosely swimming in his standard-looking, blue uniform He had the act down, though—complete with a big smile and a resonating voice that somehow could be heard without shouting, as he greeted each passenger. Mike was not amused.

Hey, didn’t your parents tell you to always keep your hand on the wheel when you’re learning to drive?

I’ve got it on automatic pilot for the moment, sir, so there’s no need for concern. I just wanted to know if anyone would like to spend some time in the co-pilot’s seat.

You don’t have a co-pilot but he’s got his own seat? Man, look what you got me into here, Ton’.

Hey, Nathan, I’ll go up again if no one else wants to see you in action.

A young woman who wore a purple sweatshirt with the words Pershing State in gold letters, along with a short black skirt and short-blonde hair tipped with a shade of blue-green close to matching her eyes made the offer the pilot was happy to accept.

Now, if she had asked me to be co-pilot maybe I would have considered it, Mike said with a wink.

What? Tony asked, as the engine noise seemed to get even louder.

Oh, never mind, Mike decided.

Mike’s opting for silence gave Tony a little time to think about his plan of action once they landed. Veronica had been in northeast Missouri since the beginning of September. Tony had called her the day before she left, offering to go along with her, but she had rejected the sugges-tion without hesitation. Veronica knew that Tony had no real interest in what she was doing; exploring or learning about communities on the outskirts of small towns that hardly had any in-skirts was not at all his idea of a potential good time. But now that was exactly what he was going to have to do, in order to uncover what had happened to Veronica, whom he was