The Iron Ring

by Matty Dalrymple

  “Hello?” came the greeting, the voice deep and raspy.

  He heaved a sigh of relief. “Hey, it’s Philip.”

  The tone lightened noticeably. “Philip Casal? Haven’t heard from you in a dog’s age. How the hell are you?”

  “I need a little help extricating myself from a situation.”

  “You need extricating, you came to the right place,” came the response, accompanied by a hoarse laugh.

  Philip, aware of the increasingly impatient young man behind him, talked fast, hoping the person on the other end of the line was getting it all.

  He ended the call and handed the phone back. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

  “That didn’t sound like a call to a girlfriend.”

  “You don’t know my girlfriend.”

  Philip waited a half minute after King Ropes left, then stepped out of the restroom. Rey was standing just outside the door.

  “We’re going back to the room,” she said.

  “Whatever you say,” he replied.

  At a table across the restaurant, King Ropes was saying something to a table of buddies and laughing. He looked up, caught Philip’s eye, and gave him a thumbs up.

  Philip was glad that Rey was already headed for the restaurant entrance and didn’t see it.

  39

  By the morning after the attack on the congressman, Mitchell’s condition had improved, and Theo told Louise she could return to the lab. Maja would summon her if advice concerning Mitchell was needed. Louise bit back a retort that she didn’t appreciate the implication that she could only return to the lab with his permission. She knew it would have been a vain retort—it was becoming clear that if Theo wanted her in the lab, then it was to the lab she would go.

  That morning she had also discovered that the glass doors that led from her suite to the outside were locked.

  She spent a few hours at the lab, although she accomplished very little. When the door clicked open to admit Maja bringing Louise and Rinnert a late-morning tea service, Louise’s flinch snapped the end off the pencil with which she had been pretending to make notes.

  By early afternoon, Louise was finding the lab claustrophobic and Rinnert’s silent presence unnerving, and she called Maja to request an escort back to the main house. She ate lunch in her suite, then sat at the table next to the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the wooded grounds. A casual observer would have assumed she was daydreaming.

  A casual observer wouldn’t have known that Louise Mortensen never daydreamed.

  Eventually, she picked up the phone and called Maja.

  “Hello, Dr. Mortensen,” Maja answered. “Shall I have your lunch dishes cleared?”

  “At some point, but I’d really like to take a tour of the grounds. Could you bring my coat? And would you accompany me?”

  There was a pause, then Maja said. “I will need to check that Herr Viklund … doesn’t need me at the house.”

  “By all means. I wouldn’t want to take you away from something Theo might need.”

  “Very good,” said Maja, sounding relieved. “I will check and then come to your suite.”

  Maja arrived in a few minutes, her assistant in tow, Louise’s coat draped over his arm. Maja took the coat from him, then gestured to him to clear the table.

  “Herr Viklund was happy to hear that you wanted to take a walk,” said Maja, holding the coat up for Louise. “It’s not healthy to spend too much time indoors.”

  Maja went to one of the doors leading outside and, her body hiding the keypad, pressed in a code. She stood aside to let Louise step out.

  Louise turned to the left, toward what she assumed was the other wing of Theo’s compound, but stopped at the sound of Maja’s voice.

  “This way, Dr. Mortensen.”

  “Of course. I’ll let you lead the way.”

  The grounds were not manicured, but the paved paths that led through them were swept clean. They walked in silence for a time, the main building eventually disappearing in the trees, then Louise said, “My shoes are perhaps not the ideal footwear for walking.”

  Maja glanced down at the Louboutin pumps. “Flat shoes would be more comfortable,” she said. “And perhaps slacks.”

  “Yes, that would be better than a dress.” The air of the March afternoon was in fact cold on her legs.

  “I could get you such clothing.”

  “Thank you, Maja, that would be very helpful.”

  “Do you have any preference regarding the clothes? Style? Color?”

  “I will rely on you to choose—you did so well with the dresses you provided.”

  “Thank you,” said Maja, obviously pleased.

  Louise turned the collar of her coat up. “I appreciate you taking time away from your duties for this walk.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Dr. Mortensen.”

  “You’ve worked for Theo for a long time—I recall meeting you many years ago.”

  “Yes, I have worked for him for many years.”

  “And obviously hold an important role in his household.”

  An odd expression flickered across Maja’s face. Louise couldn’t tell if it was embarrassed pride or something else. “Yes, Herr Viklund knows I will ensure that things run according to his needs.”

  “And the other members of Theo’s staff obviously look to you for direction.”

  “Yes. The household staff, in any case.”

  They continued along the path, which was clear of leaves and dirt even at this distance from the house. Louise did feel better for getting some fresh air.

  Eventually they came to a body of water, perhaps a quarter of a mile across, no other buildings visible along its perimeter.

  Louise looked around. “Is this all Theo’s property?”

  “Yes, everything you see belongs to Herr Viklund.”

  “No need to worry about bothersome neighbors,” said Louise, trying for a lighthearted tone.

  Maja glanced over at her. “No.”

  “Is the lake natural or man-made?”

  Maja smiled. “In Sweden, we would not refer to such a small body of water as a lake.”

  “Pond?”

  “Yes,” said Maja, “perhaps ‘pond.’ It is natural. There are streams running through Herr Viklund’s property and they run to this pond.”

  “Large streams? Big enough for fish? I might—” She hesitated at the enormity of the lie, but then forged ahead. “I might enjoy fishing.”

  Far from exhibiting disbelief, this revelation seemed to cheer Maja up. “I myself enjoy fishing very much. When I was a child, my father would take me and my brother fishing.” She shook her head. “But no, the streams on Herr Viklund’s property are not big enough for fishing.” She hesitated. “Perhaps if you let him know this is of interest to you, he could arrange a trip to a more suitable location.”

  “Yes, I will certainly ask him about that,” said Louise. “But I know he has a lot on his mind, no need to bother him about that right now.”

  “There are several places not far away,” said Maja contemplatively, and lapsed into silence, looking out across the pond.

  “Do you have a chance to get back to Sweden to fish with your family?”

  “No. My father is dead.”

  “You no longer fish with your brother?”

  “No.” Half a minute ticked by, then Maja said, “He used to work here. You might have met him on one of your previous visits. He used to help with the dinners when Herr Viklund had guests. His name was Nils.” She glanced at Louise.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t specifically remember a Nils,” Louise said. “Perhaps I will get a chance to meet him now.”

  Maja clasped her hands and rubbed them, as if the cold had penetrated the mittens she was wearing. “He no longer works here.” Maja turned away from the pond. “Perhaps it is time to go back now.”

  When they got back to the suite, Maja took Louise’s coat with her when she left, and returned a short time later, her assistant followin
g her with a mug of hot chocolate on a pewter tray. Later in the afternoon, she reappeared with wool pants, a cashmere turtleneck, coordinating cashmere socks, and lace-up leather walking shoes. She displayed them to Louise with shy pride and, when Louise congratulated her on her good taste, blushed and hurried off to put them in the closet.

  “Let me know how they fit and I’ll bring you more of a selection,” said Maja.

  “I will. Thank you.”

  Maja headed toward the door, then turned. “Oh, I almost forgot. Herr Viklund sends his apologies, but he will not be able to dine with you this evening. Would you like to eat here or in the dining room?”

  “Here would be fine, thank you.”

  Louise turned back to the windows, where the woods were now darkening in the dusk. She was relieved not to have to face Theo tonight. She hoped, in fact, not to have to face him at all.

  40

  Daisy’s desire to get to Los Angeles as soon as possible combined with her driving stamina enabled them to make good time on the trip.

  The morning they passed from Texas into New Mexico, Lizzy told Daisy, “We’re getting near where I’m going. I’m going to have to drop you off tomorrow.”

  “Where are you headed?” asked Daisy.

  “Winslow,” said Lizzy, naming another town she knew of in Arizona that wasn’t Williams, Sedona, or Phoenix.

  “Too bad you don’t have a flatbed Ford,” said Daisy, laughing.

  “What?”

  Daisy waved her hand. “Never mind. It’s from a song my grandmom used to play a lot. What are you going to do in Winslow?”

  “I promised a friend I’d do something for them.”

  “What’s that?”

  Lizzy blushed. “It’s a secret.”

  Like bad karma, just before they crossed the state line into Arizona, Lizzy’s stomach began to roll with something more than just nerves. Since Daisy was fine, Lizzy suspected it was the tuna salad sandwich she had had for lunch. The pavement markings flashing by the windows and the vibration of the road made her feel worse. She saw a sign: Rest Area 1 Mile

  “Can we stop for a little bit?” she asked. “I think if I could just take a nap in back without us moving, I’d feel better.”

  “Sure,” said Daisy. She pulled off the highway and navigated to a remote corner of the parking lot. “I’ll park here. Less noise. Easier for you to rest.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lizzy climbed into the back of the van and began unfolding the mattress. “Just a quick nap,” she said.

  “No problem,” said Daisy. “I’ll take a walk.” She thunked the driver’s door shut, but after a few moments, opened it again. “Listen, why don’t you give me your phone number and I’ll call you in a little bit and see if you’re ready to go.”

  “Sure,” said Lizzy, and gave Daisy the number. “If you give me your number, then if I wake up and you’re not back, I can call you.”

  Daisy gave her the number and Lizzy added it to her Contacts list.

  “Don’t rush your nap,” said Daisy. “I’m happy to walk around a little bit, stretch my legs.”

  Lizzy unrolled the sleeping bag and climbed in—the day was a little cool—and lay back gratefully on the pillow. She already felt better than she had when they had been on the road. She closed her eyes, calculating the date. It was hard to keep track when there weren’t those ordinary commitments that helped anchor a week, and she realized that it would have been her father’s birthday. Uncle Owen had always come out to Parkesburg and taken them out to dinner. He had only missed one year, when he was at a conference, and that year he had arranged to have a restaurant in Kennett Square deliver a fancy dinner to the house.

  She rolled restlessly to her other side, and a memory of her seventeenth birthday, just a few months before, drifted into her mind.

  She was with Uncle Owen, Andy, and Ruby in the Florida Keys, where they had fled after the death of Louise’s husband, and before Lizzy and Owen had continued on to Sedona. Andy had given her a snorkel, mask, and fins as a birthday present that morning, and she had gotten a bad sunburn on her back while gazing at the aquatic life off Sugarloaf Key. Uncle Owen had loaned her an enormous William Penn University T-shirt to wear, and Ruby had made a trip to the drugstore to get some aloe vera.

  They had planned to go into Key West for a celebratory dinner, but when dinnertime rolled around, Lizzy was still feeling uncomfortable and out of sorts. Owen and Andy ventured out and returned with a large pepperoni pizza topped with seventeen candles—plus a medium pizza “as back-up,” as Uncle Owen explained. They got out the game of Scrabble that Owen had picked up the day before in a thrift store, and Owen and Andy had gotten into an extended debate about whether CABG was allowable.

  It had been so … normal. Sitting in that hotel room, eating pizza and drinking a Dr. Pepper, she had a view of what her life might be like if they could only figure out a way to get back to Pennsylvania without incurring Louise Mortensen’s vengeful wrath and George Millard’s fatal attention. As Owen and Andy bickered good-naturedly, she thought that perhaps her life was now on an upswing, and that, with care and planning, she could leave the traumas of her past behind her.

  If only it had turned out that way.

  She had just started to drift asleep when she realized she needed to use the restroom. Pretty quick. She scrambled out of the sleeping bag and looked around for Daisy. She didn’t see her, but she wasn’t going to spend any time looking. She realized that she didn’t know where the keys were—not in the ignition. Daisy must have taken them with her. She swung the door shut and pantomimed locking it, just in case anyone was watching. Then she hurried across the parking lot to the service plaza.

  She was in the bathroom for quite a while, and when she came out, she bought a ridiculously expensive box of Pepto-Bismol pills from the gift shop.

  As she walked back to the van, she scanned the area again but still didn’t see Daisy. She decided she’d wait at the van for a little while to see if her system had settled down, then call Daisy if she hadn’t come back to the van by then.

  She climbed into the passenger seat, then glanced into the back, thinking that perhaps she should roll up her sleeping bag.

  The sleeping bag wasn’t the way she had left it. She had exited the van in a hurry, pushing the bag to one side, and she remembered thinking that she’d straighten it when she got back. But now the bag was pulled up—not completely straight, but not the way she had left it. She twisted in the seat and scanned the back of the van.

  Daisy’s backpack was gone.

  Lizzy jumped out of the van, looked frantically around the parking lot, then climbed into the back. With a sick feeling, she shoved everything to one side and pulled up the stowed back seat under which she had hidden the money.

  Only one envelope was there.

  With trembling hands, she counted the few bills that were still in the envelope. Two hundred and fifty dollars. Daisy had taken over three thousand dollars and left her two hundred and fifty dollars to get to Williams, do what she had to do, and get home again.

  And that wasn’t the only thing she had taken. She had taken the keys to the van.

  “Dammit!” She threw the envelope back into the well, tears of anger springing to her eyes. Then she remembered that she had Daisy’s phone number—if it was the real number, she thought bitterly. But not having any other option, she got out her phone and tapped the entry in her Contacts list.

  “Hello.” Much to her shock, it was Daisy’s voice.

  Had she jumped to the wrong conclusion? Was there another reason Daisy’s backpack was gone?

  “Where are you?” she asked. Then she remembered the other thing that was gone. “Where’s my money? And where’s the key to the van?”

  “I don’t have it. It’s still at the rest area. I’ll call you in a little while and tell you where it is. I just needed to make sure that you wouldn’t follow me.”

  “I can’t follow you—I told you I can’t drive on
the highway. I can’t even get on the highway!”

  “You’ll work it out. I’ll bet you have people who would be all over themselves to help you out if you let them know you needed help. There’s someone back home who cares enough about you to make you promise to text them every day to let them know you’re okay. You’re driving all the way across the country to do a favor for someone, and I’ll bet that person would help you out. You know who I have to call if I get in trouble? Nobody.”

  “I’m sorry about that, but that’s not the point,” said Lizzy, trying to marshal her argument. “And even if it was the point, it’s not true—I can’t just call my friends and run home. Plus,” she said, hating the fact that her voice was high and cracking, “it’s my money.”

  “I left you some,” said Daisy. “You’ll be fine. In a couple of years, this will just be a story you tell your friends, part of your teenage cross-country adventure.”

  Lizzy balled her hands into fists, her heart pounding with rage, and with self-recriminations for not being more careful with Uncle Owen’s money.

  She heard a male voice in the background, and Daisy’s sharp reply, directed away from the phone. “None of your business.”

  “Who are you with?” asked Lizzy.

  “Some guy.” There was a pause, then Daisy said, “Tracy, when I hit it big in LA, you come out there and bring along those folks you’ve been texting with, and the person you’re doing the favor for, and I’ll pay you back with interest. I’ll take you all out to dinner at a fancy restaurant and introduce you to all my celebrity friends. I’ll text you in a little bit and let you know where the key is.”

  And Daisy ended the call.

  Lizzy slumped back against the wall of the van.

  She had the two hundred and fifty dollars left in the envelope, plus about forty in her knapsack. The stock of food was getting low—she had planned to do some grocery shopping this evening. She would need to pay tolls. She would need to get gas before she got to Williams.

  And when she had finished her business in Williams, maybe she’d have enough money left to drive to Los Angeles and look for Daisy. But she knew she wouldn’t do it.