The Butterfly Conspiracy

by James Nelson

Stephen woke up and glanced around. He was alone in the room. His sudden joy evaporated like the dream. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, Stephen got up and straightened the comforter on the bed. He wondered if he would ever reach a point when Jill was either not on his mind or surfacing in his subconscious. Stephen glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was seven minutes past noon. He splashed some water on his face, combed his hair and headed downstairs.

  As he entered the dining room, he saw his uncle was sitting next to a beautiful blonde. Stephen presumed she was Britt Adolfson. They were deep in conversation. As soon as Stephen entered the room, Uncle Phillip stood up and introduced him.

  “Britt, this is my nephew, from New York City. As I mentioned, he will be spending the summer here at Cliffside Manor before heading back east to attend art school in the fall.”

  “Stephen, so nice to finally meet you. Did you have a nice nap?” Britt rose from the table and gave him a big hug.

  Stephen was not prepared for this. Britt’s hair was in his face. It smelled wonderful and felt soft. During her embrace, she pressed her body snuggly into his. Stephen stood still, his arms hanging straight down at his sides. Finally Britt let go and Uncle Phillip motioned for Stephen to take a seat at the table.

  Still somewhat unnerved, Stephen replied, “Yes, I fell asleep right away. My room is spectacular and I could hear the waves from the lake.”

  Jeanette entered the room and sat at the table across from Uncle Phillip. A short grey haired woman wearing an apron entered the dining room and placed bowls of homemade vegetable soup in front of everyone.

  “Stephen, I’d like you to meet Cora Ingebritzen.” Phillip introduced. “She’s the best cook you could ever find. I can thank her personally for adding two inches of girth to my stomach.” Everyone laughed.

  As they ate, Stephen couldn’t help staring at Britt. He remembered seeing her in his Uncle’s movies years ago, but seeing her in person was another thing all together. She looked a little older but her sensuality had only increased. She had a beautiful face with a very fair complexion. Her hair was platinum blond and curly. She was voluptuous and the low cut peasant blouse she was wearing did nothing to hide her curves. When she spoke, she still had a slight Swedish accent. This, combined with her feminine ways, proved to be a mesmerizing package to Stephen, and to most men who got the chance to meet her, he thought. Jeanette glanced up at Stephen but quickly returned her gaze to her soup.

  “Stephen, when you were at the main gate, did you see any members of my fan club?” Britt asked with a laugh.

  Uncle Phillip responded, “Hardly a fan club, darling. I wish you would take them a little more seriously. I don’t think you completely understand the hunting culture of this area. These people take their hunting rights very, very seriously.”

  Britt’s thick lips pouted.

  “Innocent, beautiful creatures were not put on this world to be slaughtered for someone’s amusement. Don’t these savages realize we have grocery stores now for food?

  Britt slammed her hand onto the table.

  “This endless killing cycle is senseless and completely unnecessary.”

  Uncle Phillip looked at Stephen.

  “As you can see, Stephen, Britt is an animal advocate. She has riled up the local hunting community with her outspoken commentary. For some reason, she fails to understand that, for most, deer season is a rite of passage in Michigan.”

  “No, Phillip, I understand, but….” Britt interrupted.

  “Let me finish,” Phillip continued. “Hunting is a proud tradition here. The first day of deer hunting is a school holiday, for goodness sake. You are fighting a losing battle.”

  Phillip turned back to Stephen. “Britt does not see how disliked she has become because of her opinions. She has become so unpopular we now have daily protestors who reside just outside my gate, as you observed when we drove in.”

  “So, that’s who those people are.” Stephen said.

  “Yes, Stephen. And so far they have been very orderly and civil, but God knows, these people all own guns and I would not want them to trespass on my property. I’ve had to hire security now, just to make sure they don’t get in.”

  Britt was about to respond but hesitated as Cora reappeared and set out a huge plate of turkey sandwiches. Cora placed a plate of steamed broccoli next to Britt and gave everyone their own bowl of salad. She returned from the kitchen and placed a plate of chocolate éclairs on the table for dessert.

  Stephen noticed, once they all started eating, the conversation around the table subtly changed to an amenable buzz. It must have been the éclairs.

  As everyone was finishing their desserts, Uncle Phillip stood up.

  “Let’s move to the trophy room. I have a little surprise.”

  Chapter 8

  Phillip poured glasses of wine for all. He picked up a small rectangular package and handed it to Stephen. “Stephen, I have a welcome gift for you. I hope you enjoy it.”

  Stephen was surprised and slightly embarrassed at all of the attention.

  “You didn’t have to do that, Uncle Phillip.” Stephen said, as he struggled to tear wrapping paper off a decorative wooden box. Stephen opened the lid and saw a beautiful knife with a bone handle. Engraved on the handle was “Cliffside Manor, 1975”. He picked it up and admired it.

  “Thank you, Uncle Philip. It’s beautiful.”

  “You’re very welcome, Stephen. That knife was made in 1910 by the Marble Arms Company. The company is located in the city of Gladstone, the first city we passed outside of Escanaba.

  “I remember when we went by there.” Stephen said.

  Uncle Phillip nodded.

  “The Company is known worldwide for their excellent craftsmanship of hunting and outdoor accessories. Their older knives are eagerly sought after as collector’s items. Don’t lose your knife. Put it in a special place. I thought it would be fitting to give you a gift that was made here in the Upper Peninsula.”

  Stephen balanced the knife in his hand. “It’s a beauty, thank you again.”

  With Phillip, Britt and Jeanette all in the same room, the talk soon turned to business matters. Stephen wandered over to a shelf which held numerous plaques and awards for Uncle Phillip’s films. He picked up a trophy for “Best Horror Script” for Attack of the Piltdown Man.

  Stephen remembered in the movie the Piltdown man was something like a Neanderthal caveman brought back to life by a mad professor living in an isolated mansion deep in the moors of England. The movie had scared him when he watched it as a kid. Stephen set the trophy down and turned to his Uncle.

  “Uncle Phillip, was there really a Piltdown man?”

  “Yes and no,” Uncle Phillip replied. “It was a famous hoax discovered as the archeological “missing link” in 1912. It turned out to be fabricated. Someone combined part of a human skull with an ape jaw. Can you believe it took over forty years to discover it was not real?”

  “Who did it?” Stephen asked.

  “Even now they don’t know. Some think a man named Charles Dawson but other names are mentioned. Even Arthur Conan Doyle, the man who created Sherlock Holmes, has been mentioned.”

  “I’ve read those.” Stephen interrupted. “The Hound of the Baskervilles” is my favorite story.”

  “Well, Stephen. The Piltdown hoax proved to be a terrible embarrassment to many scientists, but it turned out to be the perfect story to base my movie on. It was a great mixture of some truth combined with a lot of fiction. Because of that movie, I’m considered to be the king of horror movies.”

  “Such a tribute,” Britt laughed, tossed her hair back as she looked over at Stephen.

  Phillip continued. “Speaking of movies, Britt, I’m putting together a meeting with some people to finance my next movie. I need to get back to Los Angeles in a few days to meet with them and I know they would be thrilled to meet you. Would you come with me this time?”

  Britt moved close to Phillip, gave him a kiss on the cheek and started r
ubbing his arm.

  “Honey, you know I hate to go back there. I hate the picture business and I hate leaving here even more. Go and have your meeting without me. I’m sure they will understand.”

  Phillip looked dejected.

  “Think it over, Britt. You’re turning into a recluse and you don’t even see it.”

  Phillip was visibly upset. He put his drink down, turned around and marched out the door.

  Chapter 9

  Back in Grand View, Paulie glanced at his watch. It was three o’clock. He had driven up and down the few streets that made up the small town frantically searching for the Porsche that seemed to have disappeared in front of him. He pulled the car over and jumped out. He stretched, trying to get the kinks out of his broad shoulders and back. He was stuffed into a subcompact, the only car available to rent without a reservation. He felt like one of those big circus clowns driving around in a kiddy car.

  Paulie noticed the building across the street contained a hardware store and a café. Just seeing the café sign reminded him he was hungry. He decided to take a break and get something to eat. Paulie walked across the street. As he was walking up to the restaurant, Paulie noticed a silver spotted skipper hovering above some flowers. He made a mental note to add some butterflies from this area to his collection.

  As Paulie opened the door, he got the feeling that everyone in the restaurant had turned around to stare at him. He was still in the same rumpled suit he had put on in New York City. Everyone in the restaurant was either sporting a touristy shorts and sandal look, or was wearing what appeared to be the local fashion statement, a flannel shirt, jeans and work boots. Paulie sat down at a table for two. A waitress approached.

  Without bothering to look at the menu, Paulie said,”Give me pastrami on rye with yellow mustard and a cup of black coffee.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” the waitress replied. “We don’t have any pastrami. Would you be interested in our luncheon special, the fresh lake perch plate?”

  “No pastrami?” Paulie questioned. “What kinda deli is this?”

  “This isn’t a deli, Mister” the waitress replied, “It’s the Grand View Café. Would you like a minute to take a look at our menu?”

  Paulie grabbed the menu from the waitress’s hand and slammed it open. Heads turned. His eyes ran down the menu…smelt, pasties, rutabaga, what the hell is this? Paulie let out a sigh. This job was looking more discouraging as the day progressed. Already he had lost track of the damn kid, he was in a town of four hundred people, surrounded by woods in every direction, and now he was sitting in a restaurant where he had never even heard of half of the selections on the menu.

  As the waitress walked to another table, Paulie shouted after her, “Just gimme a patty melt, fries and a cup of black coffee.”

  Waiting for his meal, Paulie glanced around the restaurant. The wood was knotty pine. Stuffed fish were displayed on every wall, each with a small price tag hanging from their tail. Through the large picture window in the front, he could see a huge expanse of water with an island about a half mile off shore.

  Paulie wolfed down his lunch and got up to pay at the register. The same waitress took his money and rang him up. As Paulie grabbed his change, he had a thought.

  “Who’s the guy around here who drives that fancy silver Porsche?”

  “You mean Mr. Kahle?”

  Paulie leaned over the counter, “Yeah, that guy. Where could I find this Mr. Kahle?”

  Immediately the waitress stiffened. “I’m not sure. I think he moved.”

  Paulie knew she was lying.

  “Really, he moved did he?”

  Paulie understood the waitress had spoken too quickly and from the look on her face, he knew she would not be providing him any more information. He walked out the door towards his car. Again, Paulie had a feeling that everyone was watching as he squeezed himself back into the tiny rental car. He looked back at the restaurant. Sure enough, several locals had walked over to the picture window and were staring at him. His first reaction was to flip them off, but he thought better of it. He started the car and headed out of town in the direction a billboard had indicated Cabins, 1 mile.

  Paulie pulled up to a rustic motel and booked a room. The motel consisted of twelve small cabins set in a semi- circle connected by a common gravel driveway. He found his room, unpacked his suits and took a long hot shower. Paulie was standing in his underwear, drying off when he remembered to call and check in with Al.

  “Hey Al, it’s me, Paulie. I’m gonna give you my first report on the butterfly conspiracy.”

  “The what?”

  “You know. I’m gonna tell you about that butterfly I’m after.”

  “Dammit, Paulie. Are you drunk?”

  “No, Al. This is my code word. You know, like in them spy movies.”

  “Jesus, Paulie. Forget about the movies. Just tell me what the hell is going on, will you?”

  “Okay. You ain’t gonna believe this shit. I’m sitting in the middle of the woods about a thousand miles from no where. I’m so far out in the boonies, even the food these people eat is nothing I ever heard about. What do you say I come back?”

  “What about the kid?” Al asked.

  “No problem. I been following him. He’s with some rich guy named Kahle. What do you want me to do?”

  There was a silence on the phone. Al said, “Listen, the kid’s old man ain’t paying up. You need to go to plan B and get the hell out of there. But don’t screw up and don’t let anyone see you. Got that?”

  “Not a problem. Believe me Al, you’ve never seen nothing like this place, they don’t even got a deli, can you believe that?”

  Al replied, “Ain’t that something. Look, Paulie, I gotta run.”

  Paulie slammed the phone down. Now that he got the go ahead, Paulie opened his “tool kit” to make sure everything was there: rope, blindfold, tape, and revolver. Satisfied his supplies were ready, Paulie stretched out on the bed and soon fell asleep.

  Chapter 10

  Stephen and Jeanette were headed for a hike. They walked through the conservatory and stepped outside.

  “Stephen, the trail I want to show you starts here. It winds around the big pond you can see from your window and then turns left and goes about half a mile along the cliff above Lake Superior. From there the trail goes straight, or you can take a short side trail to the right that leads to a spectacular overlook called The Log Slide’.

  “Why is it called The Log Slide?”

  “Just what it sounds like. Loggers used to roll logs down this 300 foot sand dune into Lake Superior, where they would be rafted together and loaded onto lumber boats. The slope is so steep that sometimes the logs actually caught on fire from the friction.”

  “That must be some incline,” Stephen marveled.

  “It is. By the way, it’s a great experience to slide down the huge sand dune. It only takes about twenty minutes to get to the bottom, but it takes a couple of hours to climb back up to the top. You should try it sometime.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “From the log slide trail, you can continue walking along the cliff, or you can take a shortcut, which leads to the back of Britt’s cottage. The complete trail is a little over one mile, but it’s less than half a mile if you take the shortcut.”

  Stephen gazed at the expanse of trees. “How much land does Uncle Phillip own?”

  “He owns 120 acres with sixty acres along the Lake Superior shoreline. He bought at the right time. Now it would be impossible to buy that much property on Lake Superior.”

  She pointed to a break in the woods. “This trail continues past your uncle’s property. His land backs up to the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. The lakeshore runs forty miles all the way to Munising.”

  As they continued along the walk, Stephen could not help but think how lucky he was to be escorted through this stunning scenery by such a pretty girl.

  “Jeanette, you mentioned you’re from this area, right?” />
  “Yes, my family’s lived here for several generations. I’m half Indian and half French Canadian. I guess those trappers from long ago had more on their minds than animal skins.” Jeanette said with a grin.

  Your Uncle tells me you’re going to study art in the fall.”

  “Yes, I’m very excited. I’m going to the Rhode Island School of Design, it’s got a great reputation.”

  They spent an hour leisurely walking along the trail. Stephen noticed that the trail was starting to get a little damp and spongy.

  “What’s that?” Stephen asked, pointing to a huge mound rising from the middle of a large pond.

  “It’s a beaver dam. See the trees that have been chewed down all around here? Beavers used these trees to make the damn.” Jeanette stopped to point. “Look, there’s one swimming out in the water.”

  Stephen watched as the beaver maneuvered to a pile of sticks and tree limbs and disappeared.

  “That’s quite a complicated structure.” He stated.

  As they continued, the trail started climbing higher. At the top of a hill they intersected with a larger, more traveled path and Jeanette pointed to a sign.

  “See Stephen, the path we were on isn’t named because it’s mostly on your uncle’s private land. It intersects with this path, which is part of the Pictured Rocks Trail system. You should take some time and hike this section. It starts at Grand View and goes 42 miles along the lake to Munising.”

  “Forty two miles? I better start getting in shape. How long would it take to hike it?”

  “A couple of days, depends on how much you wanted to walk each day. There are some interesting spots along the trail. One place is called “Hell’s Kitchen Cave”. It’s a cave where Indian legend has it that evil spirits roasted people.”

  “Now that’s something I’d want to see!” Stephen said enthusiastically.

  “I bet you do.” Jeanette replied. “You can even see places where the cave is blackened with soot from fires!. Kind of grisly if it’s true. Personally, I think it’s just a legend but if you stay on the trail you get to a beautiful rock formation called ‘Miner’s Castle’”.