Darker: The Inquirer

by M. S. Parker

  All of it was very impressive, and I supposed that was what annoyed me the most. It seemed like my family always had to show how important they were, how long they’d been here. Our grand Traylor slash Calvert legacy was drilled into us from birth, and it wasn’t just only because of Dad’s political ambitions.

  I was just a teenager when Papa and Mama Traylor died a year apart. Both of them had quizzed Ashley and me constantly about our heritage. I’d been able to answer their questions, but only Ashley had shared – or maybe mimicked – their pride.

  I didn’t recognize the young woman who opened the door after I knocked, and she didn’t offer her name when I gave her mine. A new employee, but definitely one who knew her role.

  I followed her into the sitting room, grateful to be out of the humidity while I waited to hear if my parents would grace me with their presence. While the woman went to fetch my parents from wherever they were, I paced around the room. Nothing much had changed since the last time I’d been in here. It still made me as uncomfortable as hell, as if my presence could somehow ruin the aesthetic.

  “Bradyn, this is a pleasant surprise.”

  I turned when I heard my mother’s voice. It’d been a couple years since I’d seen her last, at least in person anyway. Her hair was still the color of champagne and as perfectly done up as it would have been if she’d come straight from the beautician. I wondered if she was dyeing it yet. Her older sisters had all been mostly gray since their early fifties, and Mom was fifty-six now.

  The number surprised me for some reason. It wasn’t like I didn’t know how old she was, but maybe not being around her had made time stand still in my head.

  “Good afternoon.” I smiled, even though I could read the tension around her mouth and eyes.

  She didn’t want me here.

  I crossed to her and kissed her cheek, anyway. I wasn’t here to reconcile. In fact, I suspected that the conversation I wanted to have would end with me being thrown out of the house. When I hadn’t fought back about the disinheritance, we’d had an uneasy truce where we all pretended that the other side didn’t exist. At least, that’s what I’d thought. Sending Nyx after me proved otherwise.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Mom asked as she crossed over to the same high-backed chair she always sat in when she was in this room.

  “No, thank you.” I went to the sofa and sat. I would’ve preferred to stay up and moving, but I wanted my parents to tell me the truth, and if I aggravated them from the beginning, we’d never get to the reason I was here.

  “Millie, darlin’, will you get a sweet tea for Jaylin and me?” Dad didn’t bother to turn from where he stood in the doorway, simply expecting his command to be carried out.

  I stood up again and held out my hand, determined to maintain my composure. I wouldn’t give either of my parents the satisfaction of knowing anything about how I was feeling or thinking unless I chose to. Besides, if offering general courtesies would help me catch them off guard, so much the better.

  We exchanged the usual pleasantries about health and weather until Millie brought in two glasses of sweet tea and left again. The moment she was out of sight, Dad crossed one leg over the other and gave me a smug smile.

  “I’m surprised it took you this long to come crawlin’ back.”

  Of course, that was what he’d think I was doing here. I let him keep going, though. He liked the sound of his own voice, and I’d learned young that if I kept quiet, he’d give me more information than if I asked outright.

  “Everyone has their rebellions,” he continued. “Well, except your sister, but we all know you and Ashley aren’t anythin’ alike. I suppose you got all the negative that was supposed to go into her too.”

  This wasn’t the first time he’d tried baiting me by pointing out the ways I failed to live up to Ashley’s standards. I hadn’t fallen for it since I was a teenager, but he never stopped trying.

  “Now, I can’t give you back everythin’ I gave her. That just wouldn’t be fair. So, she’ll keep the bulk of the estate, includin’ the house, but I’m willing to reinstate your ability to withdraw from the general account. Plus, I’ll leave a quarter of your previous inheritance to you again. That’s all I can do, though. Your sister deserves a reward for never havin’ been disloyal to this family.”

  Dad looked pleased with himself, but that wasn’t going to last long.

  “I’m not here about money,” I said, keeping my tone even. “Or you putting me back in your will.”

  His smile froze, like he couldn’t understand what I was saying, or he’d understood it but had no idea how to respond because he’d never imagined I’d turn down his offer of reinstatement. I was leaning toward the latter, and it made me wonder if he’d ever really understood me at all.

  Either because she knew me better and wasn’t surprised or because she was better at hiding what she was thinking, Mom recovered first.

  “Why, son, if you’re not here for that, then why are you here?”

  There’s a certain sugar-sweet tone that women in the South use for phrases like ‘bless your heart’ that lets anyone familiar with the culture know that they’re only a minute away from being bitch-slapped either literally or figuratively, depending on the severity of the offense and the relationship to the person speaking.

  As a kid, I’d gotten a hand across the face more times than I could count after hearing Mom say something in that tone. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but definitely enough to make my eyes water. Still, it didn’t intimidate me the way it once had.

  “I’m here to tell you that your ruse with Nyx Phoenix won’t work.”

  I’d spent the entire drive here trying to figure out the best way to word this conversation. I needed to make it a statement rather than a question since my father saw asking questions as a weakness. Better to pretend that you’re certain of something even if you’re not one hundred percent than to give someone a way to circumvent the answer. I didn’t necessarily agree with his way of thinking, but one of the other things I’d learned growing up in this family was how to use a person’s character traits to steer them in the direction I wanted.

  “What is a ‘Nyx Phoenix?’” Mom asked, frowning. Well, frowning as much as her Botox and other fillers would allow.

  I suppressed a sigh. “All right, maybe you don’t know her name, but how many other private investigators from New York have you hired to prevent me from making my film?”

  My parents exchanged glances that looked puzzled, but I didn’t buy it. Conversations like this with them weren’t verbal brawls, beating each other bloody with words. They were chess matches. Moving forward, then back, sidewise, sacrificing pawns for the end goal.

  “Why would we hire a private investigator from New York?” Mom asked.

  “I asked myself that same question.” I shifted my attention from her to my father. “At first, I thought she must’ve lied about where she was from, but that would’ve been too elaborate a set-up, even for you. Now, I think you did it because I wouldn’t believe anyone from this area since you have your fingers in every proverbial pie.”

  Dad folded his hands on his stomach. He was still an impressive six feet, four inches, but his once athletic build was now softer, giving him a bit of a paunch. He’d hurt his knee two years ago and exercising had been difficult ever since. He’d told reporters that he’d had an accident while playing basketball with his grandson. I suspected it’d been something more along the lines of trying to keep up with whichever twenty-something he’d been sleeping with at the time.

  “That’s an interesting accusation,” he said. “Did this PI say she was workin’ for us?”

  “No, but I’m sure you paid her good money to keep quiet.”

  “If she didn’t name us, then how can you know that we hired her?” The question came from Mom this time.

  “You aren’t denying it,” I pointed out.

  Dad shrugged. “Let this be my official declaration then. Neither your moth
er nor I hired anyone to do anything to you.”

  “You’re both mad that I’m making this film.”

  “We’re…unhappy that you want to damage the names of so many prominent families in Savannah,” Mom corrected. “Many of whom are your friends.”

  I didn’t point out that those people were their friends, not mine. That detail wasn’t important at the moment. “Too many families try to sweep the past under the rug, try to pretend that there aren’t any skeletons in the closet.”

  Dad leaned forward, his blue eyes cold. “Listen here, young man. You can’t just go around spreadin’ rumors to get attention.”

  I shook my head. They’d never really understood what I was doing or why. “I would never say that things are facts unless I have the proof to back it up.”

  “It won’t matter,” Mom said. “We all know how fast things spread, whether they’re true or not. If people get wind of what you’re doing, it’ll be a disaster.”

  “You need to let this go.” Dad gave me his best ‘I’m in charge’ tone.

  “I already shelved a film because I didn’t want to hurt our family,” I reminded him. “And like I told you when you asked me to put aside my film on Deacon Miller, once was enough.”

  A dark flush crept up his neck. “You ungrateful little bastard.”

  “Careful.” I let the word hang in the air for a few seconds. “We don’t want a rumor going around that I’m illegitimate.”

  His hands clenched into fists. “You will not go diggin’ around in our family’s past. Everythin’ worth seein’ is already out there.”

  “I don’t know what you thought Nyx was going to do, but whatever it is, it won’t work.” I brought the conversation back around to the reason I was actually there. It didn’t matter what Dad said. He’d already disinherited me. What else could he do?

  “You’re right that we don’t want you to make this film,” Mom said, “but we didn’t take any measures to stop you. Certainly not hiring some random woman from up North.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  Dad smirked at me. “Because we don’t need to prevent you from releasin’ your film, just make it not worth your while to do it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked warily.

  “If you finish your movie and release it, the press will want to know our side of the story,” Mom explained, lifting her perfectly manicured hand to her chest in a show of fake surprise. “Of course, we’ll tell them that we told you what parts of the story were false, but you refused to change anything, claimin’ that you don’t need proof. That you can say whatever you want.”

  If I didn’t know how well she could put on an ‘innocent’ act, I might’ve called her bluff, but what she was saying had the ring of truth to it.

  “It’d be sad,” Dad took over, “tellin’ people that you were so upset about being disinherited that you’ve made up these lies about our family in an attempt to hurt us. Just like how you made a film on my political rival when I wouldn’t let you create a propaganda film for my campaign.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Watch your mouth in this house, young man.” Mom pointed a finger at me. “Just because you don’t like somethin’ is no reason for foul language.”

  “Your mother and I would be forced to sit down with the biggest news outlets, needin’ to set things straight. Instead of being the villains in your story, we’ll be the victims.” Dad looked pleased with himself. “Hiring a PI to come after you would give credence to your story that we were tryin’ to discredit you. So, whoever this Nyx is, look elsewhere for who holds her leash because it isn’t anyone in the family.”

  Shit.

  That made sense.

  Shit.

  Nine

  Nyx

  Brew and Shadae had loaned me their living room for the video conference, which I appreciated. They were going to be part of the call, but they could’ve insisted we bring in their own lawyer, do the call from his or her office.

  I’d actually advised them to have legal counsel there, but they’d said that they wanted to hear what Min and the Douglasses had to say before they made any legal decisions. Since it wasn’t like they were in trouble, I figured it wouldn’t be an issue, but I’d still called Min to make sure. She and the Douglasses had been fine with it too.

  “You need to sit down, sugar,” Shadae said from her spot on the couch. “You’re hoverin’ around like a nervous butterfly, and I’m getting’ dizzy just watchin’ you.”

  “Um, yeah, okay.” I turned in a circle, looking for anything out of place. Not that Shadae’s house was ever anything but pristine.

  “I mean it, sugar.” She gave me one of those stern looks I’d seen her give Isaac and Bradyn. “Sit.”

  I settled on the couch on the other side of Brew. Since this was about his family, we’d agreed that he should sit in the middle. Well, Shadae and I had agreed. Brew hadn’t been happy about it since he didn’t like the idea of being the center of attention, but then Shadae had given him a cousin of the look she’d given me, and he’d shut right up.

  My laptop dinged, indicating an incoming call. I answered the call, and three people appeared on the screen. It looked like Min was at the Douglass’s house with them, which I thought was a strange choice for a lawyer, but what did I know? It wasn’t like I’d gone to law school. For all I knew, the Douglasses had requested it for some reason or other.

  “Good morning.” I gave them my most professional smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Douglass, it’s good to see you again. You too, Min.”

  She acknowledged me with a single nod. “Nyx.”

  “Everyone, this is Brewster and Shadae Huxley.” I gestured to the couple.

  “I’m Min Wu, and I represent Carmine and Kathie Douglass.”

  The couples exchanged greetings, and then we all turned to Min to begin the conversation.

  “Nyx shared with me, and I’ve since shared with my clients everything that she’s discovered, including the conversation she had with the two of you yesterday, Mr. and Mrs. Huxley.” She gestured toward the woman at her side. “Brewster, you and Kathie are distantly related, far enough back that trying to figure out exactly how far you’re removed would take someone better than me at genealogy.”

  “The site our son used gave some sort of number of cousins or however that works.” Shadae waved a hand. “If you’re interested in that kind of thing.”

  “Oh, uh, thank you.” Min looked startled. “I’ll look into that. That probably won’t be necessary until we’re actually filing a lawsuit.”

  “What, exactly, are you thinkin’ of doin’ with that lawsuit?” Shadae asked.

  I smothered a smile at the expression on Min’s face. Maybe I should have warned her about Shadae’s forceful personality, but I wasn’t sure how I could’ve done that. Shadae was a force of nature that needed to be experienced. A simple description wouldn’t have done her any justice.

  Min looked at the Douglasses, who nodded.

  “The ultimate goal is to get some financial compensation for what was taken from your ancestors.”

  “You’re tellin’ me you’re gonna get the Traylor family to pay us ‘cuz their people – white people, mind you – took things from black folk way before we were anythin’ but property?” Shadae crossed her arms. “I didn’t go to no fancy law school, but I’d think if that was the sort of thing you lawyers could do, it’d be all over the news. Black people’d be all up in that.”

  Kathie laughed. “I said almost the exact same thing when Min told me what she thought we could do.”

  Shadae turned her focus from Min to Kathie. “Did she come to you, or did you find her?”

  “A little of both,” Kathie answered. “We were at a birthday party for Carmine’s mother, and we started talking about the research I was doing. His brother-in-law is a law student and mentioned that we should talk to a lawyer. I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, you hear about things like ‘statute of limitations’ and how
people feel about the idea of reparations…” She shook her head. “I didn’t think there was anything we could do but have an interesting story to tell people. Carmine had other ideas.”

  He gave her a fond smile. “I’m the steady one in our relationship. Kathie needs all that enthusiasm to teach all those junior high students, but she can sometimes be…impulsive.”

  She glared at him, but even I couldn’t deny how much love I saw between them. “What he means to say is that he likes to analyze everything to death while I prefer to actually do things. I mean, it took him two years to figure out what phone he wanted, and by then, it was obsolete, and he had to start all over again.”

  Carmine rolled his eyes. “Anyway. Back to the point. I took a little longer to think about the ins and outs of the situation and decided that maybe talking to a lawyer would be a good thing. After some research, we found Min.”

  “All right, then.” Shadae sounded satisfied. “Now that we know the name of the people who stole the land and made slaves of your ancestors, how does this work? I’m assumin’ there’s more Calvert and Traylor people than the couple people we’ve still got here in Savannah.”

  “That is one of the things we have to decide,” Min said, inserting herself into the conversation again. “But first, I’d like to offer my services to you, Mr. Huxley. While your wife is welcome to be part of all the proceedings, just as Carmine is, you would technically be the one I would represent alongside Kathie as it’s your ancestors who had been directly wronged by the Calverts.”

  Brew looked at Shadae, and they had one of those silent communication moments again.

  He nodded and focused back on the screen. “I still have some questions before I can give you an answer.”