I grunted in agreement. “You’d have to like a certain element of risk, for sure. I prefer to play it much safer.”
“This coming from a woman who trailed a goon and trespassed onto private property.” Farrah laughed.
“Hey,” I protested. “Not my idea. I’m going to have to stop listening to you.”
“Sure,” drawled Farrah. “Just remember, this whole caper started with you.”
“Humph.”
After a moment’s silence, Farrah spoke in a more serious tone. “So you think Scarface threw the rock at your window? He seems menacing enough.”
“Doesn’t really make sense. What would he have to warn me about?”
“Good point. Okay, let’s think about this. We can be fairly certain our buddy Rob has a gambling problem, right? Scarface guy seems to want something with Rob, while Rob wants nothing to do with him.”
“I bet Rob owes him money,” I said. “Scarface is probably a loan shark or something.”
“Rob probably has a pretty good throwing arm, being a baseball player and all,” Farrah ventured.
I sighed. “I thought of that. And it would seem he had a compelling motive for taking the Folio.”
“He’s not the only one, though. I didn’t get a chance to tell you what I learned about Kirk.”
“Something interesting?” I paused while Farrah picked up a broken branch and broke off the twigs to fashion a walking stick. We had finally found a genuine dirt path, which made for easier hiking and gave me hope that we might actually be getting someplace.
“Mm-hmm. He not only went off to New York to be a Shakespearean actor, but he also tried to bring Shakespeare back home. After bumming around in the Big Apple, never quite making it to Broadway, I guess, he moved to Indianapolis and started up a Shakespeare theater company with another guy. They struggled for a time, then had a big falling-out. Evidently, Kirk shut the guy out and tried to make a go of it himself. Well, the partner wound up suing Kirk for breach of contract, among other things. And Kirk lost. I found a record of the court decision.”
“Pays to have a legal research expert on your side,” I quipped. “So, bummer for Kirk. How much did he owe?”
“Eighty thousand dollars.”
“Yikes. That’s not a little.”
“And that’s not all. Around the same time, his wife divorced him. Then the theater went under, leaving Kirk with a boatload of debt.”
“When did all this happen?”
“Three years ago. He’s been doing odd jobs ever since, trying to get acting jobs here and there. He moved from Indy to a small town right on the border of Illinois and Indiana, so he’s not too far from Edindale. Just an hour’s drive or so.”
I thought about this as we walked on, but I was soon distracted by a symphony of tree frogs, which had started up all at once. Farrah and I chuckled at this, but I glanced nervously at the sky. The sun was sinking ever closer to the horizon, and we had no idea how much farther we had to go. And although I didn’t want to mention it, my throat was exceedingly dry and my stomach growled.
“I heard that,” said Farrah. “I’m starving, too. Oh! What’s that up ahead? A bench?”
We raced for the simple wooden bench and plopped down side by side. We were both cheered by this sign of civilization. I figured we must be in the Forest Preserve. With any luck, we should at least happen upon a trail map or a guidepost or maybe even a real hiker.
“Ready to go on?” I asked.
“Yeah,” said Farrah, getting up with a groan.
We continued down the path, moving slower than ever. There didn’t seem to be any part of me that didn’t ache. To keep my mind off my body—and the darkening trees around us—I brought up the mystery again.
“So Kirk needs money. Rob needs money. Lots of people need money, if you think about it.”
“True. Wes needs money, too, since his brother wiped out his savings and maxed out his credit cards,” said Farrah, giving me a sidelong glance.
I didn’t say anything, just kept plodding along in the dusk.
“Speaking of Wes,” Farrah continued, “there was something else I learned from Jimi that night I found out Wes was sleeping in the back room at the Loose. Jimi told me Wes and Rob used to be really close. Rob would look up to Wes, while Wes looked after Rob. Rob would get into trouble, and Wes would bail him out.”
“Okay. So what are you saying?”
“All I’m saying is that maybe, possibly, Wes found a way to bail out his brother again. Either that or he could be protecting him. I’m just saying we can’t rule him out.”
“Mmm.” I wasn’t ready to concede Farrah’s point, though I knew she was right.
We walked along in silence, listening to the night sounds and shuffling our feet in the dust. I was grateful that at least it wasn’t raining. In fact, the moon above cast a soft glow bright enough for us to see the path ahead.
Still, I felt so weary. I felt like we had been in the woods for hours and hours. Now, surrounded by an oppressive darkness beyond the moonlight, I feared I might be bordering on delirium. For sure, I was starting to feel faint from hunger and exertion. I was also becoming a little freaked about where we were going to end up spending the night. With all these thoughts swirling, my heart began racing until I could almost feel the vibration of it in the earth beneath my feet.
“Do you hear that?” Farrah whispered.
I started at the sound of her voice and looked at her in surprise. She appeared a little freaked herself.
“Is that drumbeats?”
I furrowed my eyebrows and listened. Sure enough, the air carried a steady rhythmic pounding, which was not coming from my chest. We took a few more steps forward and found ourselves at a fork in the trail. I turned in the direction of the drumming, and Farrah followed close behind.
“What is that? A powwow?” she asked. “Is there an Indian reservation near here?”
I shook my head. “I don’t—”
“I see something!” Farrah hissed, grabbing my arm.
Following her gaze, I saw it, too. Up ahead we could see firelight flickering behind a wall of trees and hear the rise and fall of spirited voices. All at once, I knew what it was.
“Oh, my God,” said Farrah, sounding panicky. “How many are there?”
“Shh. Calm down.” I spoke softly, trying to soothe Farrah. Moving closer, we crouched behind a fallen tree to witness the solstice celebration.
It was just as Mila’s friends had told me. At least twenty women, men, and children were gathered around the sacred bonfire, dancing, chanting, and drumming. The revelers looked to be having a good time, laughing and passing jugs of cider and ale. Some of the women wore rings of flowers in their hair and floaty cotton dresses, giving them the appearance of woodland nymphs, while the men represented the Horned God or the Oak King with antlers or chaplets of oak leaves on their heads. A few dancers tossed herbs into the flames as they circled the fire, causing it to crackle merrily.
As we watched the scene, I could feel my earlier fear and worry dissolve away. The once foreboding darkness was now a mysterious and comforting blend of light and dark, the shadows soothing and warm like a mother’s embrace. It was Midsummer Eve, a time for gratitude and celebration. I smiled, suddenly feeling close to my aunt Josephine, who, I was certain, had once lived somewhere out here in these woods.
Then I spotted Mila, smiling and radiant, with a chain of daisies on her head. She twirled gracefully with the other dancers. I almost stood up to go join her.
“I am freaking out!” whispered Farrah. “I can’t even believe this. We’ve stumbled upon some kind of cult, some kind of sacrificial ritual.”
I felt my heart sink as I turned toward my friend. “Get a grip, Farrah. This looks peaceful to me.”
“How do you know?” demanded Farrah, her eyes wide. “I have never seen anything like this before.”
“It’s some kind of festival, I’m sure of it. Look, they’ve got flowers in their hair. Tod
ay’s the first day of summer. That must be it. Nothing to worry about.”
Farrah shook her head doubtfully, the disgust apparent in her expression. “It’s weird, whatever it is.”
I was at a loss, caught between two worlds and too tired to think of a response. That was when my cell phone rang.
I jumped and backed farther away from the bonfire, though no one could have heard the ring above all the party noise. With Farrah watching expectantly, I took my phone from my purse and answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Counselor! T.C. Satterly here. Satterly’s Rare Books. Your office gave me your personal number after I insisted I needed to speak with you. I hope this is a convenient time.”
“Um.” I glanced at Farrah and shrugged. “Sure.”
“Listen, I had a very interesting message on my answering machine today. Male voice, sort of muffled like. Said he’s having a silent auction, and if I’m interested in rare Shakespearean works, I’m to tweet the words ‘Got a penchant for seventeen c reserve #ytfnrq.’ Said that he will contact me if he sees that tweet. Strange, I know. Still, I wrote it down. Got it right here.”
“Wow. You’re kidding.”
“I kid you not. And that’s not all. Word on the street is that a certain broker is going to be at LitCon this Saturday. This certain broker is well known in the book world to have, let’s say, questionable scruples, if you know what I mean. Rumor has it that he might be meeting with a prospect to discuss a certain acquisition. It’s all very hush-hush. But I do know that this broker wouldn’t normally come to LitCon unless he believed he might get something lucrative out of it.”
“So, you think this guy got the same kind of message? And he posted some obscure code tweet?”
“Now, I don’t know about all that. All I’m saying is, if you’re still on this case, you must be at LitCon on Saturday.”
“Okay. All right. So who is the broker? What’s his name?”
“Now, remember, you didn’t hear it from me. I’m not one to cast aspersions on other dealers. But look out for a fellow by the name of Stenislaw. Got me? Stenislaw.”
“Stenislaw,” I repeated.
“Very good. Well, bye now.”
“Wait! Mr. Satterly?”
I looked at my phone, saw the call had ended, and slipped it back in my purse. Farrah stared at me, eyebrows knit and hands on her hips.
“What was that all about? And why didn’t you ask him for help? He could have called the police or a forest ranger or something.”
I rubbed my eyes and yawned. “Not necessary. I think I know where we are. Ever hear of Briar Creek Cabins?”
Leaving the joyful sun celebration behind, I led Farrah out of the forest. After we reached the main cabin and coaxed the sleepy manager to drive us the eight miles back to my car, I drove Farrah home. Then I took myself home, where I went straight to bed and slept a long, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 21
I woke to the sound of the phone jangling beside my bed. Without opening my eyes, I fumbled for the receiver and brought it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello. May I speak with Miss Milanni, please?”
“Speaking.”
“Oh, I didn’t recognize your voice. This is Wendell Knotts. I’m calling about the Mostriak Folio, which we discussed earlier this week.”
Now I was awake. I opened my eyes, tossed away the sheets, and swung my feet to the floor. “Did you find the original appraiser?”
“Indeed I did. I tracked down the appraisal company in New York, explained who I was and what I was looking for. And they, most obligingly, agreed to search their archives. In fact, I received a call from them this morning. They found their copy of the original certificate and will fax it to me this afternoon.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Interestingly, when I spoke with them this morning, they told me that someone else had called them about this very document yesterday.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Apparently, it was a man claiming to be a member of the Mostriak family.”
That was interesting. “So what did the appraiser say to him?”
“Why, they said they would fax it to him, like they did for me. There are no protections for a document like that. The certificate without the Folio is little more than a piece of paper, albeit with modest historical value for a small number of people.”
Except that it would have considerably more value to whoever possessed the Folio.
“Do you think you could ask the appraiser for the fax number the person provided?”
“Certainly. I’ll be calling them, anyway, when I’m ready to receive the fax myself.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate your help.”
“Not at all, I’m happy to help. Now, I have a proposition for you. Would you come to LitCon tomorrow morning? I’ll meet you there to give you the faxed document, as well as the information I learn from the appraiser. And you might find the convention enjoyable. Besides that, we could use more attendees. I’ve seen an unfortunate decline in the numbers year after year.”
“I’ll be there,” I promised.
I now had two reasons to attend the Literary Convention. Maybe I would even catch some of the Shakespeare in the Park performance while I was at it.
Later that day, as I headed out for a jog, I received a third compelling reason to go to the fair. I had a phone call from Wes, my own private hot and cold rock star.
“Hey, Keli. I’ve been meaning to call you. How have you been?”
Just peachy, I thought. I always love spending five days of radio silence following a date with a guy I like. “I’ve been great. How about you?”
“Well, less than stellar, to tell the truth.” Wes heaved an audible sigh. “My family’s going through some stuff. I’ve actually moved in with my folks for a little while. You know, so I can help my mom out until my dad returns, try to give her some peace of mind.”
Right. And get off the cot in the bar. But he did have a point about helping Darlene. “How is your mom? I’ve been thinking about her lately.”
“She’s doing better.” Wes paused, and I began to wonder why he had actually called. “So, listen, uh, I had a nice time last Sunday. But since we didn’t get to have a proper picnic, I was wondering if you’d want to try again tomorrow. My uncle Kirk is performing in the play at the Renaissance Faire. Want to meet up and have a picnic on the lawn at the park?”
I couldn’t help smiling. I absolutely wanted to have a picnic in the park with Wes. “Well, there’s something I have to do in the morning, but I should be able to meet you there. What time?”
“There are three performances. Ten a.m., one, and four. Can you meet up for the one o’clock? I’ll bring the food. All vegan, I promise.”
“Sure. Sounds great.”
“Terrific. I’ll find a spot front and center, but call me if you can’t find me.”
“Absolutely.”
After the call, I took off for my run, all aflutter again over Wes. I took my usual route, through Fieldstone Park and over to the rail trail. At the two-mile point, I turned around and ran back the way I had come. Only this time, as I approached the spot where the trail passed behind the Woodbine Village housing development, I slowed my run to a walk. Without quite knowing why, I stopped to look toward Rob’s apartment.
A narrow strip of trees and brush separated the trail from the parking lot in front of the apartment complex. Peering through the trees, I located Rob’s sad little stoop with the neglected lawn chair. Then I started when I recognized the car parked in front of the apartment building, next to Rob’s own dusty sedan. It was a black SUV, and I was almost certain it belonged to Scarface.
Then my eyes slid to the car on the other side of the SUV. This car was also familiar. It was Wes’s car.
As I stood there wondering, Rob’s front door opened and Wes himself came out. He walked, eyes on the ground, toward his car.
My heart clenched at the wo
rried expression on his handsome face. I longed to go over there to comfort him and be his friend.
But what I still didn’t know was if this was a man with deep concern for a brother in trouble or if Wes himself was the one in too deep.
Either way, I intended to find out.
* * *
After a quick shower and a bite to eat, I threw on a long T-shirt and a pair of black cropped leggings, wrapped my hair in a silk scarf, and dug out my old mirrored aviators. It was the closest thing to a disguise I could come up with. To top it off, I applied a thick coat of uncharacteristically bright salmon-pink lipstick I had once bought by mistake. Then I hopped into my little silver-blue car and headed toward the River Queen Casino.
On the way, however, I felt my resolve seep right out of the bottom of my wedge-clad feet. When I reached the street leading to the casino, I kept right on going. Why hadn’t I called Farrah? I didn’t want to skulk around the riverboat by myself.
Feeling a little silly and a lot frustrated, I drove around town with no particular destination in mind until I found myself nearing the check-cashing facility where Farrah and I had started our crazy car chase the day before. Not that I expected to see Scarface again, but there was something odd about how he seemed to keep popping up. I couldn’t help wondering what he was up to—and what it might have to do with Rob and Wes.
And then, like a mad case of déjà vu, I did see him again.
I had to blink twice and lift the shades from my eyes to be sure. The imposing figure coming out of the check-cashing facility was definitely Scarface. I was still half a block away, so I hit the brakes and proceeded slowly, watching as he climbed into his SUV and sped away.
Without pausing to formulate a plan, I maneuvered my car into the curbside parking space he had vacated, slipped out of my car, and marched right up to the Miller Avenue Cash Mart.
The place was empty except for the large woman perched on a stool behind one of three small transaction windows. She looked at me expectantly, her broad features and double chin visible through the clear security barrier. I took a deep breath and crossed my fingers.
Midsummer Night's Mischief Page 19
