Decaffeinated Corpse

“He’s worried about theft?”

“He’s worried they’ll charge him with theft.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Brazil’s government is very concerned about biopiracy.”

I’d heard the term before. I just didn’t see how it applied. “I’m not sure I understand...”

“Biopiracy is basically hijacking plants from their native country and patenting them for commercial exploitation in another country. In Brazil’s case, plants have been taken out of the Amazon and brought to other countries for experimentation, cultivation, and marketing.”

“But Ric’s growing his hybrid in Brazil. He’s not taking it out of the country.”

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably. “Matt knows this already, and you’re his partner, so I guess it’s okay to tell you, just so you’ll stop worrying.”

“Tell me what?”

Ellie’s voice dropped. “Ric discovered a plant growing wild on Costa Gravas—a naturally decaffeinated Coffea stenophylla plant.”

“Not arabica?”

“No.”

That surprised me. Notwithstanding my botanically inaccurate reference to the plant as a “tree,” I was fairly familiar with the basic aspects of coffee as a cash crop. I knew there were many species of the plant, some decorative and some used by native cultures for stimulant value. But as far as commercial importance to farmers, there were only two players: Coffea arabica (referred to simply as arabica in the trade) and Coffea canephora (referred to as robusta).

Arabica, which covered about 80 percent of the world’s coffee production, was the A-list star of the show. Grown at higher altitudes and considered high quality, arabica was the source for specialty coffees. Robusta was grown at lower altitudes and for years had been the source of cheaper blends and the basis for instant and canned coffees.

Within arabica, there were two “original” varieties, Coffea arabica arabica (or typica) and Coffea arabica bourbon, out of which many unique forms had emerged, either through deliberate breeding or accidental mutations in the fields. Two such spin-off hybrids popular with farmers were Coffea arabica cattura and Coffea arabica catuai, both of which grew much shorter than the original varieties, so they were easier to harvest. They were also more resistant to disease.

Coffea stenophylla, however, was new to me, and I asked Ellie to tell me more about it.

“Historically, stenophylla was considered to be better than arabica,” she explained. “The plant was hardier, it had a higher fruit yield, and the final product had a better flavor.”

“You’re kidding? What happened then? Why aren’t today’s farmers planting that?”

“The English took it out of West Africa in the late 1800s and grew it in their colonies—”

“That would include Jamaica then? And Ric’s old home—Costa Gravas?”

“Yes, exactly. But rust disease was a huge issue back then. It wiped out many of the plantations cultivating it. The farms had no time to recoup their losses fast, and stenophylla takes nine years to mature. Even though it produces a hardier plant with higher yields, it was abandoned in favor of the arabicas, which take only five to seven years to mature and bear fruit.”

“Okay, I follow, but where does that fit in with Ric’s breakthrough?”

“The key to Ric’s hybrid decaffeinated plant is what he and I believe is a mutation from a surviving stenophylla plant. The plant itself wouldn’t have been useful to a coffee farmer. It still took nine years to mature, its yield was low, and it produced a decaffeinated bean.”

“I follow you. A decaf bean wouldn’t have been an advantageous trait until lately, since decaf drinkers only recently became a larger percentage of the market.”

“That’s right. It wasn’t worth a farmer investing time and effort into breeding a decaffeinated plant. But Ric never felt that way. When his family was driven off their estate, he smuggled this mutated stenophylla’s seeds and cuttings into Brazil. For years, he continued his experiments in crossbreeding using Coffea arabica plants, and finally he made his breakthrough.”

“So you’re saying the key to Ric’s hybrid is a plant he smuggled out of Costa Gravas? And the authorities there might have an issue?”

“Not just there. Brazilian officials are pushing for world sanctions on biopiracy in their own rain forests. They’d look like hypocrites if they granted protection to Ric, since Costa Gravas might very well charge him with biopiracy once the word gets out.”

“And that’s why you’re helping him file for protection outside of both countries?”

“Exactly. There won’t be any issues here in the United States. Ric’s horticultural work is real and visionary, and I can attest to its value and validity. He deserves the protection.”

“You’re his champion then?”

“Yes, I am.”

I was about to ask Ellie another question when a startled look suddenly crossed her face. “Oh,” she said. “Norbert, where did you come from?”

I turned to see Norbert standing near a potted plant, next to our table. Ellie and I had been conversing so intensely, we hadn’t noticed his arrival.

“I’m sorry,” he said, tilting his curly head. “I wasn’t sure how to interrupt you without appearing rude, but I wanted to drop off that little parting gift for your friend.” He held out a canvas tote bag with the words Brooklyn Botanic Garden embroidered on the side in forest green.

“Thank you.” I took it from him. “It’s very nice.”

“Anything else, Ms. Lassiter?” Norbert asked, rolling forward onto his toes a bit. “Anything at all?”

Ellie’s eyes met mine for a second and I could tell she was recalling my Eddie Haskell joke. I could also tell she was suppressing another laugh.

“No, Norbert. That’s all. Why don’t you take your lunch now, and I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Certainly, Ms. Lassiter. I’ll see you later. And goodbye, Ms....”

“Goodbye,” I said quickly.

Norbert nodded, giving me a forced smile, then turned and departed. I watched him like a hawk until he was well out of earshot.

“Ellie, what’s the story on your assistant?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s his last name?”

“Usher, why?”

“How long has he been working for you?”

Ellie looked to the sky, calculating. “About nine or ten months. He came on before this year’s spring season.” She sighed. “I know I’m a bit short and cold with him, but he’s got a bit of a crush on me, and I’m trying to discourage it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How deep a crush?”

She waved her hand. “He asked me out a few times over the summer. Not directly, just dropping hints that I might like to go here or there with him—an outdoor movie in Bryant Park, a Sunday drive with him to Cape May.”

“Doesn’t he know you’re married?”

“He knows. He also knows about Ric, unfortunately. You’ve seen how quiet he can be. He snuck up on us a few times out in the Garden. I thought we were well hidden, but he saw us... all we were doing was embracing, but...”

“But what exactly?”