A Dark and Twisting Path

by Julia Buckley

  “Okay, you’re on. Can I invite Camilla, too?”

  “She told me she and Adam are going to the theater tonight. I happened to call her a few times, looking for you.”

  “Ah.” I smiled out the window. “You were worried.”

  “A little.”

  “You should know better. I’m not the type to run from a challenge.”

  “As I’ve learned.”

  “I miss you.”

  “I’ll come by at six?”

  “Good. See you then.”

  “Wear something red,” Sam said just before he rang off. This was interesting; he’d never commented on my wardrobe before, except to say that I looked nice. Did I even have anything red? I ran upstairs to check my limited selection.

  * * *

  * * *

  AT SIX O’CLOCK I was dressed for dinner in a pair of beige slacks and a red knit sweater, along with a silver necklace and some small diamond earrings that had been a Christmas gift from Sam.

  Tabitha and my father were ready, too, looking refreshed and attractive in their dinner clothes. We chatted in the living room, and I pretended I wasn’t nervous about Sam’s imminent arrival.

  When I heard his feet on the steps I leaped up and said, “Let me get that,” even though he hadn’t yet rung the bell.

  I opened the door and Sam smiled at me. He was wearing black pants and a white shirt with a crimson tie. His messy brown hair had been tamed, and he resembled a boy going to church. “You look nervous,” he said.

  “I don’t know why. But I am. Come and meet my dad.”

  Sam entered the room, and my father and Tabitha rose to shake his hand. “Mr. London, Mrs. London. I am very glad to meet you,” Sam said, solemn and formal as a prince.

  My father laughed and pulled him into one of his hugs. “Mr. London? You and Lena aren’t sixteen, so you can call me Eric.”

  His wife leaned forward. “And I’m Tabitha. Oh, you are even handsomer than your picture in the papers,” she said.

  Sam actually turned red.

  My father had let Sam go, but he was still looking into his eyes. “Son, Lena told us all you’ve been through, and of course we’ve seen it unfold in the press. We can’t tell you how sorry we are for all that you’ve suffered.”

  His genuine sympathy disarmed Sam.

  “I appreciate that . . . Eric. And I’m glad that people know the truth now, because when the world believed the worst—that was pretty unbearable.”

  Tabitha shook her head. “Well, we know you won’t want to rehash it all, but just know that we always believed in you, because Lena did.”

  “That is very gratifying,” Sam said.

  I cleared my throat. If they kept going one of us was likely to end up in tears. “Dad, Sam is going to take us to Stafford. It’s about twenty minutes from here—it’s the town where John works—Allison’s John? There’s a lovely Italian place out there.”

  “Terrific! We love Italian food.” My father winked at Tabitha. “So many people want to take us out—we should have visited a long time ago.”

  “And I should have invited you,” I said. “Now let’s go, because by the time we get there I’ll be starving.”

  We went to the door, and I called to the dogs to be good. Lestrade was off hunting for mice somewhere in the house. We piled onto the porch, and I locked Camilla’s door.

  As we drove toward the foot of the bluff, we passed a man walking along the side of the road. It looked like the bearded man who had glared at me in Wheat Grass. “Hey,” I said, turning in my seat to double-check.

  “What?” asked Sam, his gaze fixed on the path in front of him.

  “That man—”

  “What man?”

  I twisted in my seat, craning my neck to look behind me.

  “Dad, Tabitha, did you see that guy on the side of the road?”

  “I only have eyes for this lovely lady beside me,” said my father in a jovial voice.

  Tabitha leaned in to give him a kiss and blocked my view out the back window. When she moved back, the road was empty, and then we turned onto Wentworth and I gave up with a sigh.

  Half an hour later I had forgotten all about him.

  7

  In the rare light of the setting sun, the temple ruins glittered like gold.

  —From Death at Delphi

  BONAVENTURA WAS NOT as subtle as Wheat Grass, but it was still charming. The walls were parchment gold and decorated with framed photographs of art by the Italian Renaissance masters. The ceiling was a mural of blue sky with delicate clouds, and a real olive tree sat in a pot in the middle of the restaurant. On a ledge above our table were perched two antique lutes, and two guitarists strolled the restaurant, playing muted music.

  A waiter invited us to come to the Tuscany Room, and as Tabitha and my father followed him, Sam held me back and whispered in my ear. “You look beautiful,” he said.

  I stole a quick kiss from him and said, “So do you.”

  He grinned at me. I loved to see him smile because it made him look young, boyish, in the same way that his moments of brooding made him look older than his thirty-five years.

  We settled into a booth, where Sam and I faced my father and Tabitha across a marble-topped table, at the center of which sat a small loaf of oven-warmed bread. Sam said, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to meet you this morning, or join in your tour. I’m sure you know about Victoria.”

  “Oh yes,” Tabitha said. “We followed every story, every day. Your poor wife! We were so relieved when they found her.” She seemed to hear how this sounded, and said, “Not as relieved as you were, I’m sure!”

  Sam nodded with a wry smile. “It was a miracle, and Lena made it happen. But then this man—Nikon Lazos—decided that he wanted to steal back his daughter. And Vic is devastated, naturally. She has a temporary home here in Blue Lake—I think it’s important to her, somehow, to stay near the place where her daughter disappeared. It’s so tough on her, I understand that, but it also puts me in an odd position. She wants me to be there for her, to be her confidant and supporter. But for me, life changed forever when she was gone.”

  “Of course it did,” my father said. “You had to face a year of uncertainty and the disapproval of an entire town.”

  “The entire world, it felt like.” Sam frowned down at his plate. I put a slice of bread on it.

  A waitress appeared and told us her name was Gina. She took our drink orders and departed after sending a flirtatious glance to Sam, which he seemed not to notice.

  “So Victoria came to see you this morning?” Tabitha asked, curious but trying not to seem that way.

  “Yes. And Lena came by, which I love for her to do, and found Victoria crying on my shoulder.”

  “Ah,” said my father.

  “It was a bit awkward, actually,” I said.

  Tabitha shook her head. “I feel bad for her. But she has a family—parents and a sibling or two, doesn’t she?”

  Sam nodded. “Yes. And they plan to visit Blue Lake regularly. But they live in New York, and Victoria stays with them when she goes there for her various press conferences.”

  I started to butter my bread. “She and Sam shared an apartment there, which Sam was keeping while they were investigating Victoria’s disappearance. Now that she’s back, he’s going to put it up for sale.”

  “I already did,” Sam said. “And my Realtor has been inundated with offers. Apparently many people are willing to pay extra for the place where Nikon Lazos tried to frame me for murder.”

  “My goodness. It’s all so unbelievable, isn’t it?” Tabitha said, her eyes wide.

  “Yes,” Sam said. “Anyway, Victoria was especially upset because Athena turned seven months old today.”

  “Oh my,” I said, setting my knife down and looking at him.

 
My father nodded. “That is hard. God, if anyone had taken my Lena away from me when she was just an infant—” My father sent me an affectionate glance. “It’s amazing how quickly that bond is formed, between parent and child. But he wouldn’t hurt the baby, would he?”

  Sam shook his head. “Even Victoria doesn’t think that. She knows Nikon loves his little girl. But he is also vengeful, and her fear is that he’ll never let her see the child again.”

  “Poor Victoria,” I said.

  Tabitha looked near tears.

  “Anyway, enough about this,” I said.

  Sam understood and slid an arm around me. “Yes. We’re here to talk about you, and your life in Florida, and Lena’s birthday. You’re turning twenty-seven, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “She was just a kid when I first met her,” Tabitha enthused. “But always so talented and pretty. She looks very much like her mother, doesn’t she, Eric?”

  “Very much,” my father said, his expression fond. His eyes held a trace of sadness. “We’ve all experienced the loss of a loved one at this table—a sad fraternity. But Sam, I fear you had to pay the biggest price. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Sam said. “It’s a very long time ago now. Sometimes my family feels like it was a figment of my imagination.” I leaned into his side, and his arm tightened around my shoulder. “But I loved them, and I know they loved me, and I take comfort in that.”

  Tabitha, who was always empathetic, stared at him with round, tear-filled eyes. “You have a great attitude. And now you have Lena,” she said.

  Sam smiled at her. “I do.”

  My father pointed to his right. “People are dancing. There’s a dance floor. And they’re playing a Sinatra tune.”

  “Ohhh,” Tabitha said.

  “Want to cut the rug, Tabby?”

  She did, clearly. They excused themselves and moved to the center of the room, where a cluster of couples slow-danced to the romantic music.

  “That’s sweet,” I said.

  “Do you want to dance?”

  “No. I want to sit and talk with you. I’ve barely been alone with you since you got back, you know? And the whole time I was in England I consoled myself that I would have tons of Sam time when I returned.”

  “I’m sorry. I always seem to be saying ‘someday’ to you. But things are better than they were. We can be together openly now, and we can steal time together here and there.”

  “Yeah. Anyway. I’m sorry the conversation took such a personal turn. I guess Dad and Tabitha wanted to—you know—”

  “I understand.”

  “Hey—on a different note. Remember a few months ago when you told me about what your dad said before they went on their trip? Something about good news, and your mom getting a letter.”

  “Yes.” He tore a corner off his bread.

  “I wonder—is it okay if I ask Belinda to look into it? Just in a sort of general background way?”

  He shrugged. “You know what? I’ve decided that I need to live for the future, not the past. But if you want to pursue it, go ahead. I doubt she can find out anything useful at this point. The people with the information are gone.” His voice was matter-of-fact rather than morose.

  “You never know. Belinda has worked miracles before. She helped us find Victoria.”

  He shook his head. “It still amazes me—you and Belinda, the unsung heroes of the whole event. Victoria mentions you a lot, you know. How amazed she is that you were able to find her simply by using your computer and your ingenuity.”

  “Really? I always get the impression she resents me.”

  “She’s shy around you because she doesn’t know how to thank you. It’s a big thing—I know just how she feels. You saved my life, too.”

  I waved him away. “This conversation is too intense. Let’s just talk about silly things.”

  “One more serious thing. I heard from Doug about our ninja.”

  “Oh?”

  “His lab guys couldn’t make out a face. Doug thinks the person knew about the camera, maybe even wanted to be filmed. I can’t imagine why.”

  “And fingerprints?”

  “They dusted. Everything was clean. Just my prints and yours.”

  Another song started, and the Florida lovebirds opted to stay out on the dance floor. “And I don’t suppose they know who killed Eddie Stack?”

  Sam sighed. “No, but they know it wasn’t me. Thank God.”

  I leaned against him and closed my eyes for a moment. “What’s happening, Sam?”

  It was a question that we’d been asking since the moment Allison had found a body in her backyard. What is happening in this town?

  * * *

  * * *

  WHEN WE ARRIVED back at Graham House, Adam’s car was still gone, which meant Camilla and he had probably combined dinner and their play. Sam and my father, to my great pleasure, seemed comfortable with each other, and in fact they sat in the front seat together while Tabitha and I had opted to talk about “girl things,” as Tabitha put it, in the backseat. While the men in the front talked about sports, Blue Lake, and fishing, Tabitha wanted to know about clothing and jewelry shops in Blue Lake, as well as any promising antique barns. “I hate to be a cliché,” she told me in a confidential tone, “but I do love shopping, especially when I’m on vacation!”

  We climbed the porch, Tabitha and I, while the men locked up the car. I touched the wooden door and saw that it was not closed. Heathcliff and Rochester nosed it open on the other side. Their hackles were raised, and they whined slightly while Tabitha and I patted their heads.

  Sam appeared behind me and pointed at the wood of the door frame, which was rough and jagged on one side. He said, “Lena, step away. That door’s been forced open!” He pulled out his phone and called the police.

  8

  She first knew that she was being followed when she saw a shadow that wasn’t her own. But when she spun around, ready to confront a stranger, she found nothing but the rutted path and the dense foliage around it.

  —From Death at Delphi

  CLIFF BLAKE SHOWED up to investigate; he said that Doug was in a dinner meeting with the mayor.

  “What’s all this stuff with Doug and the mayor lately?” I asked.

  Cliff shrugged and put on that inscrutable expression that cops always wear. Then he climbed up onto the porch and frowned at the broken wood on Camilla’s door. We had all remained outside on Sam’s orders; in fact, Sam seemed the most upset, and he looked pale in the evening light.

  Cliff looked at us, his brows furrowed. “This was done with a crowbar,” he said. “You stay here and I’ll make sure no one’s still inside.” He took his gun out of his holster and began to check Camilla’s ground floor while we talked in low voices on the porch.

  I kept my eye on Sam, occasionally peeking in at Cliff, who was now stealthily climbing Camilla’s stairs. I had a moment of déjà vu—perhaps because, back in October, a police officer had also climbed Camilla’s stairs, hunting for an intruder.

  Finally Cliff came out, looking a bit less tense. “Nothing inside. Whoever visited has gone; but these two guys have done us a favor.” He pointed at the dogs, then held up an evidence bag that seemed to contain a scrap of blue jean material. “This was on the floor, and there’s blood on it. Whoever broke in probably didn’t know Camilla had German shepherds. Looks like they attacked him.”

  Rochester and Heathcliff, seemingly aware that we were talking about them, sidled up to us to receive their praise. I knelt down and gave it to them, lavishly. “You are good boys!” Then I looked up at Cliff. “So it’s not likely that he took anything, right? Not if the dogs were on him the moment he broke in.”

  “You can check out the house, but no, I’m thinking he came and went in a hurry.” A little smile escaped him, and h
e looked suddenly approachable, even handsome.

  Sam still looked upset. “The question is why. Why is someone breaking into Camilla’s house with a crowbar? I don’t like this at all.”

  My father said, “How about if Tabitha and I look around and see if anything is broken or disturbed?” Cliff opened the door, and my father led his wife inside, perhaps so that we could speak with Cliff in private.

  I had a sudden memory. “Cliff! When we left to go to dinner, I saw a man with a beard walking up the hill. Remember I mentioned him, Sam?”

  “Yes.” Sam looked grim. “I wish I had seen him.”

  “I saw him, and I can describe him. Not only that, but I’ve seen him more than once! Belinda saw him, too. We were eating at Wheat Grass, and he was glaring at us. Do you think Adam can find out his name, maybe from customer receipts?”

  Cliff looked interested. “Well, that is a great place to start. Thanks for the lead, Lena. Did Belinda happen to recognize this guy?”

  I shook my head. “No—she barely noticed him. But he stands out: he has a bushy brown beard and scraggly eyebrows. It’s hard to guess his age—he could be anywhere from thirty to forty-five, I would think.”

  “Had you ever seen him before?” Sam asked.

  “No. That’s why it felt strange to me that he was staring at me—I didn’t know him at all. But then I wondered—”

  “What?” Cliff asked. He had a little notebook out, which was cute. Doug did everything on his iPhone.

  “Doug said something about there being reporters in town, trying to keep a low profile. When I saw him scowling, I thought maybe he was with the press, and maybe he was angry that he couldn’t get an interview with Sam or me or Victoria. I don’t know—that doesn’t quite make sense as a theory, but that’s what I was thinking at the time.”

  Cliff nodded and scrawled a few things in his notebook.

  Adam’s silver car turned in at the driveway and pulled in next to Camilla’s where it sat at the foot of the porch. The two of them emerged, looking elegant in their evening clothes, and walked toward us. “Something’s happened, I see,” Camilla said.