A Dark and Twisting Path

by Julia Buckley

  “I’m not quite sure. If it’s all right with you, though, I think I’ll retire to my bedroom for a rest. I know we were going to do some work, but—”

  “Don’t be silly. Go rest until you feel better. Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, no. I’ll be fine. You’re sweet. I’ll just lie down for a time.”

  “Okay. Just so you know, my dad invited you to dinner tonight, if you’d like. He’s taking me to Wheat Grass.”

  She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I must bow out this evening, I think. What time were you and your father meeting there?”

  “Around six, I think.” I consulted my watch. “It’s three now.”

  “You enjoy dinner with him and with Tabitha. It will be an early night for me. Perhaps Adam is right and I haven’t gotten over my jet lag after all.”

  This concerned me. I had thought Camilla was looking strong and even young, and yet Adam had been worrying about her health. Was I missing something? Was she hiding something from me?

  Camilla saw my expression and waved it away. “Don’t make this more than it is, Lena. It’s just a headache. I’ll sleep it off, I’m sure. You go put your packages away and enjoy the afternoon. I’ll tell Rhonda she needn’t make dinner at all.”

  “All right. If you’re sure,” I said. I went upstairs. Camilla’s headache, distressing as it was, had been just the distraction I needed from my own worries, and now I felt better, stronger—ready to face whatever malicious person in Blue Lake was trying to terrorize me. I walked confidently into my room, where Lestrade, King of My Bed, examined the plastic dress covers that I laid upon it. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” I asked him. “I’m going to get all pretty for this evening.”

  I took great care, putting the clothes away with loving hands. I thought about calling Sam, asking if he’d like to come to dinner, but my father hadn’t mentioned him, and we had all just dined together. Perhaps it was best if I spent time alone with my father and Tabitha.

  I went to my desk and wrote for an hour, pursuing some of the ideas Camilla and I had just generated. I would show her tomorrow, when she was feeling better—because of course she would be feeling better? I never wanted to have to think of Camilla in decline; I had only just become a part of her life.

  I closed my document and opened my e-mail, sending a few long-postponed notes to friends, filling them in on my Blue Lake existence. Some of them had sent questions about Sam West or the latest murder in town. I didn’t elaborate on any of those, but spoke in general of Blue Lake’s skies and soothing water.

  While my hands were on the keyboard, I found that, as usual, I couldn’t resist a little online sleuthing. First, I Googled “Joseph Williams, Indiana News X-Press.” That had been the writer of the article about Sam and me. What popped up was just a paragraph on an “About Our Staff” page at the tabloid. While most staffers had photographs next to their biographies, Joseph Williams was merely a silhouette. Hmm.

  I clicked on it and read, “Joseph Williams is an Indiana writer who knows how to find the stories people care about. Contact him via the station at JWilliams@newsxpress .com.”

  This was very fishy indeed. I sent a skeptical look to Lestrade, then Googled “brothers and sisters of Nikon Lazos.” This brought a few articles, most about Nikon with mere mentions of his siblings, but some were about individual brothers or sisters. One, Demetrius, had started his own bottled water company. Naturally, it had made him millions of dollars. I remembered a comment my mother had made when one of the wealthiest men in our town won the lottery: “Money goes to money, Lena,” she had said wisely. “Somehow that’s how it always goes.”

  Money. Joseph Williams, whoever he was, must surely be making money from spying on Sam and me. Might whoever was leaving me the notes be making money, too? What if Nikon had paid some local person to terrorize me? But of course, the question was why.

  There were minimal articles about Nikon’s other brother and his sisters. One sister had married a British industrialist and had relocated to the Isle of Man. Another had her own perfume line. The youngest had been kicked out of an expensive boarding school. How spoiled they all sounded, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if they had an unrealistic idea of life and reality. Nikon certainly did; what if all of his siblings had as twisted a worldview as he had?

  I closed my laptop, stretched, stood up, and looked at my watch. It was time to wear my pretty dress. Inspired by Sasha, I put on some perfume, then donned the brown and gold dress with some sheer hose and my new sandals. My thoughts darted back to Lazos’s sister and her perfume, which was called Agapi. I shook my head; I didn’t want thoughts of the Lazos family in there.

  I combed my hair into a glossy sheet, then grabbed my purse and walked into the hall.

  Camilla’s door was closed, and the dogs were nowhere to be seen, which meant they were guarding her while she rested. I wondered if I should tell her that I was leaving, but I feared that if I knocked I might wake her. Instead I went down to the kitchen and wrote a brief note, saying that I was at dinner with my father, and we would all return sometime later that evening.

  Lestrade strolled through the kitchen and jumped onto Camilla’s windowsill to enjoy the evening sun. I scratched his head and told him I’d be back soon. “I know, I know—I’m going to another restaurant,” I said. “But really I’m networking.”

  Lestrade was unimpressed. He twitched a whisker at me and then turned away, probably to scan for birds or bats.

  I shrugged and left the house, turning the key in the new lock and trying the door afterward for good measure. It was solid and firm. Camilla had the dogs, and a phone next to her, and Adam just a call away, if anything were to happen. Meanwhile I scanned the area with vigilance, my fingers twined inside my keys in case I needed to use them as a weapon. I had the police number already dialed into my phone, should I see anything suspicious.

  I realized, with some comfort, that whoever was writing to me had confined his activities to notes. This was a coward, I reasoned to myself, who wanted to intimidate me without any risk to himself. I tossed my head as I unlocked my car. Let him leave all the notes he wanted. Each clue would bring the police a step closer to catching him.

  As I buckled in, though, I remembered the chilling words. “Hello, Sweetheart!” I would never like that word again. How could an affectionate term hold so much menace? Was this really about Nikon, or was it something entirely different? What “dream” had the writer seen destroyed? What did that have to do with me?

  Driving the familiar route out to Green Glass Highway, I found my thoughts drifting to Athena, the lost baby. Did she know that she was lost? Was it certain that she was with her father? If so, was her father being good to her? Was he attentive and loving? Victoria had told various reporters how Nikon, her estranged lover, had focused all of his attention on her, lured her into a romance, and then essentially consumed her with his obsessive love.

  What would it be like for a child, an only child, to grow up with a father like that?

  Still pondering, I pulled into an open space against one wall of Wheat Grass. Although I knew I was about to have access to unlimited love and sympathy, I had decided not to tell my father about the notes. Why would I worry him when he was only in town for a matter of days? I paused to text him: I’m here! Are you in the restaurant?

  A moment later, I got a response: Yes—we have a table ready.

  In a Pavlovian response, my stomach started growling. I jumped out of my car and walked through the mild, flower-scented air to the front door. I pulled it open, ready to speak to whatever member of the waitstaff greeted me.

  Instead, I saw a shocking sea of faces, with Sam and Camilla at their center, and they were all shouting “Surprise!”

  11

  She felt the menace without seeing it; in the shade of the monuments she sensed its presence, palpable and intense. When
she spun around, she found nothing but silence and a single purple heron floating weightless in the darkening sky.

  —From Death at Delphi

  I NEARLY FELL down. My party! I had expected it to happen later, closer to my birthday.

  My father approached me now and gave me a hug and kiss. “I guess we succeeded! You’re white as a ghost. Are you okay?”

  “Yes—this is just a little overwhelming. Thank you, everyone!” I said, laughing a little. The crowd cheered and clapped and began to mill around. I tried to suppress the voice in the back of my head, taunting me even in this moment. Hello, Sweetheart!

  Camilla approached, looking sheepish and quite pretty in a lavender dress. “Do you forgive me for lying to you?”

  I stared. “How did you even—?”

  “I waited until you went up to your room, and then I had Adam meet me at the front door. I felt like quite a conspirator, I must say.”

  “Where are the dogs?”

  “I asked Rhonda’s son to take them for the evening. She and her husband are here. Look at her lovely gown!” She pointed at Rhonda, who glimmered in black and silver. “But I wanted you to think the dogs were with me.”

  “I did! You thought of everything. And I’m glad you’re not really sick. I was worried about you.”

  She sniffed. “I’m hearty as a horse. Look at the decorating job your father and Adam did.” She pointed, and I noticed that the walls were draped with Italian lights, and a giant poster hung near the bar—it was a blown-up picture of me at one year old, playing with my father’s typewriter. A caption at the bottom said, “Lena London: a writer since birth.” Added to this were an assortment of pale pink and silver balloons hung tastefully around the room, and a large cake that looked like Rhonda’s handiwork, which said “Happy Birthday, Lena—We Love You!” I scanned the room to see that in fact the people I loved best were all there: Sam, Allison, John, Doug, Belinda (hadn’t I just dropped her at the library?), Marge and Horace Bick, Lane and Clay Waldrop, even some old friends who had driven in from Chicago. I waved at them, my eyes misting with sudden emotion.

  Tabitha touched my arm. “We have a table in the center of the action. Come on in. Would you like a drink?”

  I shrugged. Normally alcohol just made me tired. “Maybe. Some wine or something. Surprise me, Tabby.” I had never called her this before, and she looked pleased.

  Allison galloped up, dragging a smiling John. “Kiss, kiss. Happy birthday, my best friend. John and I are in charge of music, so we have to go mess with the sound system. Save us a seat.” John managed to pat my arm before Allison dragged him away.

  Sam appeared in front of me with a shy smile. “Happy birthday,” he said. “Were you surprised?”

  “I absolutely was, although I should have seen all the signs. Some detective I am. I actually thought Dad and Tabby were in Meridien.”

  “Your dad had me hanging balloons all day. He’s a real taskmaster.”

  I studied his face. “You had fun.”

  He grinned. “I did. We are good friends now.”

  I leaned closer to him. The music started—some muted, big-band stuff Allison knew I found romantic—and I had to speak a bit more loudly. “When we get a chance, I need to talk to you—”

  His face hardened. “Something’s happened?”

  “I got another note.”

  “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “I called Cliff and he escorted me home. This isn’t the time to talk about it, but—”

  He looked concerned, and a bit helpless. “Cliff has the note now?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did it say?”

  I told him. His face grew grim. “I am going to find this guy and punch him in the face. It’s going to feel good, Lena.”

  I giggled. His warm hands, holding mine, made me feel stronger, more confident, less vulnerable. “I’ll punch him after you do.”

  He sighed. “This is weird timing. Everyone worked so hard to get this together. I guess we can pretend for a couple of hours that nothing happened, right?”

  “Sure we can. Because I see a pile of presents over there,” I joked.

  “Mine is the blue one,” he said, tucking some hair behind my ear.

  “Will I love it?”

  “I hope so.”

  Doug and Belinda approached. They weren’t holding hands, but they seemed comfortable next to each other. “Hey, birthday girl,” Doug said. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and then Belinda gave me a hug. “Happy birthday,” she said.

  I thanked them, then narrowed my eyes at Belinda. “What, did they pay you to distract me at Willoughby’s?”

  She shrugged and laughed. “You called me, remember? But Camilla had said she would try to nudge you in that direction. That dress is a knockout, by the way.”

  “Yes, it is,” said Sam. He hadn’t really taken his eyes off me since I’d entered the room.

  “Thank you. Sasha helped me select it.”

  Belinda held up her hands. “Well, say no more. That woman is some kind of gypsy psychic.”

  “Maybe I should consult her on some cases,” Doug said, looking distracted.

  I noted, suddenly, that he looked tired. “Things are going slowly, huh? And hey, why is the mayor monopolizing your time so much these days?”

  He looked surprised. “You heard about that?”

  “Yeah. Cliff came out the other night because you were having dinner with him. And the mayor called you on the morning that you introduced me to Cliff at the house.”

  “Ah. That seems like a long time ago,” Doug said. He sighed. All three of us were looking at him with curious expressions, and he laughed. “Okay, fine. The fact is, Chief Baxter is retiring, and the mayor wants me to consider taking his job.”

  “Police chief? Doug, that’s amazing! You’d be great for that job,” I shouted. Sam and Belinda were saying similar things as we clustered around him.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know that I want it. It’s lots of responsibility and desk work. I’m more of an on-the-street kind of guy.”

  Sam looked solemn as he contemplated Doug. “I think you deserve the honor, but I have to agree, I don’t see you enjoying that role.”

  “He said I can take a couple of weeks to think about it,” Doug said. “I’ll need to go over the pros and cons with people I trust.” He looked at Belinda, who bowed her head in silent affirmation.

  I saw Tabitha waving at me and pointing at the tables. “I think Tabitha wants us to sit down. Oh God, there aren’t going to be speeches, are there?”

  “There might,” Doug said. “Some of us might have some interesting stories to tell.”

  “I know I do,” Belinda said, smiling.

  “Me, too,” said Sam. He took my hand. “Come on. I think the four of us are at the table of honor.”

  We were; it felt oddly like a wedding, and I felt grateful to the people around me for putting up with the rather awkward setup. Soon enough it didn’t matter, though, because Tabitha brought me some wine, and three of Adam’s waiters appeared, bringing us soup and salad, and my father walked to a microphone in the corner. I feared he would make me cry, but all he did was tell a funny story about my fourteenth birthday party, to which I had invited my writing idol, Camilla Graham.

  “Camilla lived in London at the time, but Lena somehow found her address and wrote to her, saying that she loved her books and she’d love for Camilla to attend her party.”

  I stole a glance at Camilla, whose face was a picture of surprise. “Camilla?” my father said. “Do you remember that letter?”

  She looked shocked. “I do,” she called. “But I had no idea that was Lena! Oh my goodness!”

  The crowd laughed and clapped, and my father held up a hand. “What Camilla might not recall is that she wrote back to Lena, and we saved the lette
r to give to her at her fourteenth birthday party. It was her favorite present. And the other day I was looking through a box of Lena’s childhood things that somehow came to Florida with me, and there was the letter. I’d like to read it now.”

  The crowd clapped again. I had forgotten the letter, and now I put my hands on my warm cheeks. How strange life was, with its curving path . . .

  “‘Dear Lena,’” my father read. “‘What a charming invitation I have received from Chicago today in my London flat. I must say it was the highlight of my day to receive your picture and your sweet compliments about my books. Were I in America, I would be happy to attend your party. As luck would have it I am in London, and I will be giving a lecture on the very night of your birthday. Why don’t we make an agreement that we will think of each other at our respective events, and feel a warm glow knowing that someone in another country is wishing us well.’”

  Everyone clapped again, and Adam kissed Camilla on the cheek. She waved at me from her table, which she shared with my father, Tabitha, Adam, and the Bicks. I waved back.

  Then my father was handing the mic to Tabitha, who spoke of meeting me for the first time and knowing that I was special. She handed the mic to Doug, who told the story of finding me on the side of the road, where my cat was making me late for an appointment by tearing around the inside of my car. Doug had soothed him with catnip and I had managed to go to my interview with Camilla on time—and the rest was history. Belinda went after him, explaining that we had met in a library and had bonded over our shared belief that a person could pursue clues in order to find solutions to mysteries.

  More applause and some laughter. Then Allison came up to tell everyone how long I had been her best friend, and that she had picked me out in high school as a likely candidate for friendship because I looked smart, pretty, and loyal. “And I was right about all three,” she said. I applauded with everyone else and blew her a kiss.

  When Sam went to the mic the room grew silent. Not only did everyone in the room know I loved Sam West, but they also knew that, for more than a year, he had avoided microphones and any attention at all. But he was doing this for me. “On the day I met Lena London,” Sam said, “I was very rude to her. I thought she had climbed up the bluff to stare at me—people had done it before—and I was not in the mood to talk to her, even though I thought she was very pretty.”