Birds of Paradise by Oliver K. Langmead

Author:Oliver K. Langmead [Langmead, Oliver K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

IX

Magpie’s apartment is palatial, but specifically in the sense that it feels as if the contents of an entire palace have been crushed into it. There are Fabergé eggs in the fridge, and oil paintings of castles stacked up against the walls, and wherever Adam goes he finds himself tripping over rolled-up rugs and tapestries. Magpie himself is spending the evening pacing around his dining room, chattering excitedly into his phone. After a while watching Magpie accidentally sweep ornaments from the dining table, and mantelpiece, and cabinets with the edge of his gilded robe, Adam decides to explore the rest of the apartment, in search of something to pass the time.

Soon, he knows, they will steal Eden’s cherry tree.

At the rear of the apartment is a door half hidden behind a tall stack of unopened crates, and beyond that door is an office crammed, from wall to wall, with papers and journals and leather-bound books. Adam idly sifts through it, and discovers that most of the papers bear the Corvid & Corvid letterhead. The books are filled with grossly outdated statutes and case-law, and the deeper Adam explores, the older they get. He manages to shift enough paperwork to clear the chair behind the desk, and sits there in the warm light of a dim lamp, flicking through Magpie’s old work journals before settling in to reading one.

The journal he chooses is a ledger of belongings written by Magpie on behalf of Corvid & Corvid in an attempt to catalogue the estate of an heirless millionaire. It’s fairly banal legal work, but as Adam reads the listings, he slowly becomes absorbed in the client’s life. There are all the hallmarks of wealth – the statues, the portraits, the exotic rugs, enormous mirrors and custom pieces of golfing equipment. But there are signs of life, as well: dog collars, and endless spare tennis balls; stacks of discarded typewriters and computers; heaps of unfinished manuscripts and newspapers from bygone eras. The man had too many coats, and stashed in some of the pockets were dusty wads of cash. At the bottom of a drawer filled with screws and bits of string, rested an out-of-date passport, still pristine, with no stamps or visas.

As Adam continues reading, he grows familiar with the belongings, and the walls of the great house rise around him, enclosing him like the walls of a prison. He is helplessly lonely, crippled by an anxiety that makes him unable to go out into the world for fear of rejection, and unable to complete any of his manuscripts for fear of inadequacy. Sometimes he will go to the golf club and golf alone, celebrating good days with expensive cognac and bad days with expensive wine. His four dogs are his ceaseless companions, and the reason he doesn’t end his life. Some days he will stand beneath his apple tree with a length of rope, and on others he will pluck the apples from that tree and pick the seeds out with his fingers so that he can enjoy the crisp fruits without worry of cyanide poisoning.

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