Emerald Eyes

by Rebekah Shelton

Chapter 2 - Escape from Africa

  Gracey stood in the doorway for a moment, alone, wondering where Stone had vanished. She glanced at the doorman who shrugged. With no answers, the desire for a hot shower quickly replaced her bewilderment. Moving quickly, Gracey raced to her room.

  Being frugal for the past six years, Gracey had eagerly used the soap and shampoo provided by the hotel. But tonight she needed to escape from Africa if even for a few hot minutes. Gracey reached into her closet and pulled out her one of her guilty pleasures, a bottle of lavender and vanilla shampoo and matching bath gel. Standing in the hot shower until her skin almost blistered, Gracey tried to relax. But once the adrenaline subsided, she was sitting on the floor of the shower crying again. Not soft sobs but the hysterical, crocodile tears she so often shed.

  The next morning, Gracey showered again using the hotel amenities and dressed for work. Her usual breakfast order was delivered to her door; coffee with an order of toast and jam. But this morning there was a single lavender rose on the tray and a note from Stone, “Sorry.” Why a lavender rose? Gracey wondered.

  Gracey resolved there would be no tears today as she headed for the lobby. Jim, Pierce, and Steve were already in the lobby talking business when she arrived. But where is Stone? Gracey asked silently.

  Jim called out, “Our van is here,” and motioned for Gracey to pick up the pace. “I guess Stone will be joining us later,” Jim added as if reading Gracey's thoughts.

  As the van entered the wildlife preserve, the group noticed several vehicles just inside the preserve; security vehicles for the preserve and local police cars. While wondering aloud what the pandemonium was about, their driver stated, "Some animals have been killed near the main entrance. It is strange; the animals normally do not come near the village."

  Several hours had gone by before Stone arrived at the conference center. He looked different. His clothes, of course, were impeccably pressed and tailored. But his eyes were different. They were not the usual pale blue but darker almost midnight blue. And he looked like he had not slept all night. He looked tired and troubled. While everyone noticed, but not a word was spoken.

  The morning meeting ran ahead of schedule and lunch arrived. As the lunch was cleared, Stone announced with unexpected excitement, “No more work today. Let’s go sightseeing.” Stone seemed his usual self again.

  Everyone looked at each other, shrugged and then smiled. “Let’s go,” Pierce exclaimed, and they all jumped up and quickly gathered their belongings.

  Before Gracey had a chance to comprehend everything, Stone grabbed her by the hand and pulled her along with the rest of the group. “And for dinner, no room service for anyone tonight,” Stone told everyone. Gracey was too startled to reply. Maybe this is a good thing Gracey thought getting caught up in the excitement of her coworkers and the anticipation of an afternoon in the sun and no work.

  Stone quickly made arrangements for the group to tour the wildlife preserve, a safari with cameras. While they had been working in the conference room on the wildlife preserve, they had yet to see any wildlife. The entourage hurried back to the hotel to change and met in the lobby. The driver was ready, and they departed to spend the afternoon on the African savanna.

  The savanna stretched beyond the horizon. They saw lions, buffalos, rhinoceros, leopards and elephants and more birds than they could name. The guide commented that while the animals lived in the wild, occasionally some would wander closer to the vehicles so the tourists could get a closer look. With cameras at the ready, everyone waited for close-up photo opportunities.

  Suddenly a Springbok Antelope appeared and curiously walked closer and closer to the vehicle. Just as sudden, it stopped. Slowly it took a deep breath, and as if sensing danger, it turned and ran. The quiet of the savanna suddenly turned thunderous as if every creature on the preserve perceived the danger and was running away. Everyone gasped in astonishment. Stone’s eyes immediately turned troubled and dark.

  Without a word spoken, the tour guide headed to the drop off point to end the tour. Arriving at the hotel, Stone was disheartened. “See everyone tomorrow,” he told the group and disappeared.

  Gracey was both disappointed and relieved. Disappointed she would not have dinner out on the town but relieved she did not have to put on a brave front. Having already memorized the room-service menu, Gracey returned to her room and ordered a light dinner. Then after a hot shower and donning some comfortable pajamas, Gracey decided she would curl up on the bed and read for a few hours before going to sleep.

  For the first time in two days, Gracey relaxed. The hot shower relaxed her muscles, and the mint olive oil soap energized her. She reached towards the bottom of the dresser drawer and pulled out her nice pajamas; the emerald green silk set which matched her eyes, not the cheap jersey pair she normally wore.

  Dressed for bed, Gracey grabbed the pillows from both beds and settled in for a night of reading. She had brought with her a couple of paranormal romance novels her former housekeeper Molly had dropped off at the boarding house just days before Gracey left for Africa. Gracey was not a fan of paranormal romances, but right now a little distraction from reality was just what she needed. It was a book about wolves. After a few pages, Gracey was surprised she was actually enjoying it. Everything about the book was so far from reality Gracey relaxed and emerged herself into the story.

  Wolves? Humans who turned into wolves? How absurd. So engrossed in the story line Gracey had to look up and remember where she was, and this was fiction, science-fiction.

  Gracey heard a soft knock on the door. She had left her dirty dishes and dinner tray in the hall. Who could this be? She went to the door and opened it a few inches. It was Stone. He looked distraught. His eyes were still sad and dark. Gracey wondered if Stone had been crying.

  Stone stood silently with his hands in his pockets, looking down and imitating a little boy caught doing something wrong and begging for forgiveness. “Can we talk?” Stone asked remorsefully.

  In all her years, Gracey had never had a man, other than her father or her family doctor, in her room. Not in her parent’s home, not in her room at the boarding house. Gracey was a southern lady. It was not proper. But seeing the sadness on Stone's face, she could not deny his request and opened the door wider and granted Stone entry.

  Feeling uncomfortable about her attire and not having a robe with her, as she did not entertain men in her room, Gracey excused herself to redress. She returned in a pair of jean and t-shirt as well as appropriate undergarments. Stone was sitting at one end of the couch, and Gracey sat down at the far end, pulling up a pillow as a shield between them. Silence filled the room. A couple of times Gracey started to break the silence but knew otherwise. Stone needed to talk about something. It was not her place to say anything.

  “The perfume you were wearing yesterday? What kind was it? I have smelled it somewhere before,” Stone rambled, breaking the awkward silence.

  “It was my mother’s,” Gracey replied. “I kept it after she died to remember her. I rarely use it. I am afraid it will run out.” Stone did not reply immediately.

  “Do you remember the last time I saw you? At the Christmas Gala?” Stone asked. “It was the night your mother died, right?"

  “The night she was killed!” Gracey exclaimed angrily, correcting Stone.

  Stone remained calm. “Tell me about that night, Gracey. I need to know.”

  Gracey sat in shock. It had been six years; six years of hell, pure hell. She did not want to relive the event again. It did not get any easier. Gracey sat silently. Stone turned to her, silently took both her hands into his and remained patient until Gracey responded.

  “Well, you already know when it happened,” Gracey began. “My father and I had left the Gala and hurried home to tell my mother all about it.” She felt herself starting to break down. Breathe Gracey breathe, she said to herself.

  “Your mot
her never attended the parties. I heard she had been sick a long time. Was she at home alone?” Stone inquired.

  “No, she never went out. She had been sick for years. The doctors could never find anything physically wrong with her but felt it might have been depression or PTSD. Molly, our housekeeper, had gone home for the night.”

  “PTSD?” Stone asked.

  “Something traumatic happened before I was born. No one will tell me what. But my mother would never leave the house. She stayed in her room, mostly medicated.”

  “What happened that night; the night she was killed?” Stone asked again.

  “When my father and I arrived home, I rushed upstairs to tell her about the Gala as I did every year; who was there, what were they wearing, what food was served. I would describe all the decorations, everything. We would talk for hours. She wanted to know everything. But when I got upstairs, I could tell something was wrong before I got to her room. It was the smell. I could smell her death. I smelled the blood and something else. It was something similar to the smell of a wet dog.”

  “A wet dog?”

  “It smelled like a dog or maybe some sort of wild animal. The bedroom was torn apart. The bedding was shredded; lamps were broken. I just stood in the doorway. Blood was everywhere. Her body was mutilated, torn apart as if a wild animal attacked her.”

  Gracey suddenly glanced at the bed and the book she had been reading. “Like a wolf attacked her,” she gasped in disbelief.

  Stone sat in shock, unable to wrap his mind around what Gracey was saying. The details of the murder had been censored, never released to the public. The more Stone pondered on Gracey’s words, the sadder he became, the more withdrawn, almost in tears imaging Gracey's pain. Sadness turned to anger, and without a word, Stone stood and left Gracey’s hotel room, leaving her there alone.

  Gracey was unable to move. Why did he ask me all these questions and then just leave? Now, she was angry. Gracey picked up the pillow she had been using as a barrier between her and Stone and threw it across the room, nearly breaking a lamp.

  Gracey tried to sleep that night. She tried closing her eyes and not see any monsters. As Gracey was finally drifting off, she heard the loud and angry howl of a wild animal. It sounded like a wolf.

  Gracey spent six years knowing well about nightmares. But she did not function well without sleep. As she called in her usual coffee and toast order for delivery, she quickly added a shot of espresso and a glass of orange juice. She was going to need the extra caffeine and sugar to get her jump-started today. It would take more makeup than she usually wore to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

  But after nine years, Gracey was an expert of covering the evidence of her pain and personal torture. In addition to the nightmares about her mother’s death, every month she endured the horrible pain of her monthly cycle. And before then, Gracey heard the pain and screams of agony that came monthly for her mother. The family doctor would come to the house every month and heavily sedate Gracey’s mother and inject her with pain medication. When Gracey turned fourteen, she quickly understood. The excruciating pain had been passed down to her, and the doctor treated Gracey each month with the same combination of sedatives and pain medication. The only consolation was Mayra and Gracey's cycles were in sync, so the family only had to suffer the sleepless nights for a few days each month. Gracey was relieved to know she would be home before her next cycle started.

  Friday morning, Gracey met the men in the lobby for the ride to the conference room. Stone was absent again. Jim quickly noticed Gracey’s lack of energy and the extra make-up under her eyes but said nothing. As they exited the hotel, Gracey glanced over at the meditation garden. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a coin. “I will be right back,” Gracey stated and headed for the garden. Steve and Pierce stood bewildered, but Jim just nodded and said, “Go on.”

  Gracey rushed across the drive to the garden, and upon reaching the entrance, she stopped and looked in amazement. The garden was beautiful, even more, beautiful in the daytime than at night. The flower beds were overflowing with every color of the rainbow, and the sound from the fountain quickly filled her mind with calm. She walked over to the fountain and closed her eyes. While drinking in the aroma of the flowers and the sound of a bubbling fountain, “Let me find peace,” Gracey prayed and threw the coin into the fountain and ran back to the transport.

  As the group entered the wildlife preserve, they saw a repeat of the previous day. There were police and wildlife vehicles everywhere. The people of the village were in a frenzy; shouting and crying. Not just about another animal being killed, mauled by another animal, but it happened two nights in a row, and the killer beast had come so close to their village and families.

  "Stop!" Gracey called out. The driver, surprised by her exclamation, stopped immediately. And before Jim could stop her, Gracey jumped out and ran over to see what the excitement was about. A Springbok Antelope had been killed. The carcass showed it had been mauled by another animal, an animal with large claws, maybe a lion.

  “But lions don’t come into the village,” Gracey heard one of the locals scream out. “And look at the paw print! That is not a lion!”

  Before Gracey could wrap her head around what she was seeing or hearing, Jim gently pulled Gracey away, “Let’s go.”

  As they approached the conference center, they noticed extra security. Wildlife officials with automatic weapons were patrolling the area on foot. The group started setting up for the day; their last day on the refuge before the training at the actual bank began on Monday. Everyone tried not to get caught up in the fear of the local citizens and to ignore the armed guards standing at either end of a long hallway dissecting the building. "We will be okay," Jim smiled confidently.

  Within minutes, Stone appeared. He glanced silently at Jim, and the two left the room to talk privately. Returning minutes later, Stone approached Gracey, “We need to go.” Stone picked up Gracey's belongings and escorted her out of the room, out of the building and into an awaiting car. Gracey looked back and saw Jim standing in the hallway. Gracey’s face showed she was confused, but Jim nodded at her letting her know everything was okay and for her to leave.

  “If you are worried about my safety, don’t,” Gracey said to Stone impatiently. Stone did not reply. “Where are we going?” Gracey demanded.

  “Home,” Stone replied.

  “Home? Why do I need to go home? Just because I am a woman, you are sending me home?” Gracey stated with frustration. What is with the misogynistic caveman attitude? Gracey thought.

  “We will talk privately, once we get back to the hotel. I have someone packing your things. We will be leaving soon,” Stone said succinctly.

  The car stopped in front of the hotel entrance, and Gracey jumped out trying to put distance between her and Stone. She was not happy Stone was making decisions for her. Stone stopped Gracey from entering the lobby. Then he ushered her to the bench in the rear of the garden. Stone wanted added privacy, ensuring no one else entered or would overhear their conversation, and he sat down. “Sit Gracey, we should talk.”

  “Talk, yes, talk. What is going on? Why are you sending me home?” Gracey asked, still perturbed.

  “I am not sending you home; we are going home,” Stone replied, “both of us.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we.” And without any clarification, Stone blurted out, “I think I know who killed your mother.”

  Shock could not describe how Gracey was feeling. She looked at Stone with her eyes wide open and her jaw hanging, anticipating the rest of the story. Too alarmed to speak Gracey remained silent.

  “It was the perfume. It is why I asked you about it. Think back to the Gala. Do you remember me arguing with my father about leaving the Gala to join my friends at Paddy’s Pub?”

  “Yes, I remember that.”

  “I smelled the perfume at Paddy’s that night.
But it could not have been your mother because you told me she never left the house. But I remember the scent. Someone in the bar had the scent of your mother’s perfume on them.”

  “Who was it?” Gracey asked both curious and afraid.

  “I am not sure. But I know I smelled that perfume at Paddy’s that night, and it wasn't a woman. It was a man. I am going to help you find your mother’s killer.”

  Stone stood up and reached out his hand to Gracey. She placed her hand in his, and together they walked back to the hotel.

  Once inside, Stone informed Gracey the hotel staff was packing both his belongings and hers. Since he was used to people packing for him, he went with her to her room to help her oversee the packing of her luggage. "I have a car was waiting to take us to the airport," Stone added. "I have chartered a private jet to take us home."

  Stone could discern by the look on Gracey's face she was appalled by the extravagance and expense he was so casually accustomed to. "I am anxious to start investigating your mother’s death," Stone offered as an explanation. "It will be more comfortable plus it will be more private. We will be free to talk." And I need to teach you how to play poker, Stone thought to himself.

  Stone’s phone rang, and he stepped out into the hall. “Everything is in place?” Stone asked. “Good, we will be leaving soon.” The remainder of the conversation was enigmatic, just yes, and no replies followed by, “Thank you, see you soon.”

  In short order, Stone and Gracey were headed to the airport and to the steps of a private jet. Now, this is service, Gracey thought. Maybe I could get used to this. Stone spoke to the pilot and crew for a few minutes, and then they climbed aboard.

  Gracey was in awe. Is this how the other half lives? Looking around, she saw leather seats, plush carpeting, and paneled walls. The plane was equipped with phones, TV and every type of personal electronic equipment imaginable. The seats faced each other, and Gracey could see in the back, a sleeping area, full galley, and a bathroom which put her bathroom at the boarding house to shame. Gracey did not know whether to be disgusted by the profligacy or excited to be traveling in such luxury. This sure beats coach, Gracey thought silently and nearly giggled with exhilaration.

  Stone tried not to smile at the look on her face. “Yes, I need to teach you how to play poker,” he mumbled while stifling a laugh and leading Gracey to her seat.

  Within minutes, they were airborne. Gracey stared out the window watching Africa slowly disappear. It was a trip she would never forget; the beauty of the country, the smell, the people. But her stay had been cut short. She had hoped to see more during the planned thirteen-day trip, but here she was, only six days later, leaving. Gracey was sad she was leaving but anxious to start looking for her mother’s assailant.

  Noticing the expression on her face, Stone cautiously reached down and pressed the call button. A member of the wait staff swiftly appeared. “Would you like something to drink?” Stone asked Gracey.

  Gracey sighed thinking about her favorite tea, tea she needed to revitalize her. “I wish I could have a cup of my favorite Vanilla Orange Energy tea,” she mumbled aloud.

  “One cup of Vanilla Orange Energy tea, ma’am and for you sir?” the male attendant replied.

  “A double espresso, please,” Stone answered.

  “Yes, sir,” the attendant replied.

  Stone watched Gracey as she quizzically wondered smiling. They have my favorite tea? I have to special order that tea.

  Stone gloated for a moment to himself; Ms. Maple was thorough. The smile on Gracey’s face was worth it.

  Gracey had lived at Ms. Maple’s boarding house since her father was arrested for murder. It was not a boarding house in the old-fashioned sense of the term. Ms. Maple had two extra rooms with private baths in her home, and according to Ms. Maple, her deceased husband’s pension did not finance all her expenditures. Therefore, she rented out two bedrooms with full access to the rest of the home. The rent was affordable and the accommodations more than adequate. Gracey had lived there since she was eighteen, and after six years Ms. Maple had become like a mother to Gracey caring for her well-being and ensuring Dr. Robertson was allowed entry each month. Ms. Maple had also taken on Molly’s task of fixing Gracey’s dinner the first night of her cycle. The same dinner, Gracey’s mother, had eaten every month. The same dinner Gracey ate since she was fourteen; an extra-large, extra rare steak, as prescribed by Dr. Robertson to replace the blood they lost during their cycle.

  The tea and espresso arrived a few minutes later with an assortment of fancy cookies. The refreshments were served on real china with linen napkins, not the paper and plastic used by the commercial airlines. “This is too much,” Gracey declared aloud.

  The attendant smiled as did Stone. Stone noticed Gracey’s mood was changing; this was a good thing. There would be more terrible days ahead, and he knew she needed a respite if even for a few hours.

  “Do you play poker?” Stone asked.

  “No, why,” Gracey replied.

  “I just thought it would be a pleasant way to spend the morning since it is still early. I can teach you. My dad and I use to play to pass the time when we traveled, and I miss it,” Stone stated, hiding the real motivation for the playing. It was an excellent way to learn how to bluff. It was how his father taught him to control his facial expressions.

  “Sure, why not.” Gracey needed a diversion, and it could be fun, she thought.

  Stone pulled a deck of cards out of the seat pocket and started to explain the rules for Texas-Hold’em. Gracey was usually quick to learn but was confused. Noting her frustration, Stone laughed and told her, “It is okay, you can learn as we go. Later, we can bet on each hand, to make it more interesting.”

  Stone dealt the first two cards and explained the ante and the betting. Then he continued to deal and explain, deal and explain. After a few hands, he felt Gracey was ready to start with some real betting. A quick press of the call button and the attendant was back with a bag of watermelon flavored jelly beans. "Thank you, Antoine."

  “Okay, this is crazy. First, you have my favorite tea and now my favorite brand and flavor of jelly beans,” Gracey announced. Stone let a chuckle escape, and by doing so, Gracey missed the wink Antoine gave to Stone.

  Gracey and Stone spent the next fifteen minutes playing poker, each winning an equal share of the hands. They both laughed when they noticed the bean count was slowing disappearing. “I have a better idea,” Stone told her. “Let’s play with money. I would hope you would not eat that.” Again, they laughed.

  Stone pulled two hundred dollars in cash out of his wallet and split it evenly between him and her. “Now, this is for real. Winner takes all.” It was time for the real lesson to begin.