 II. Natalon 12:00 PM Monadnock wasn’t a town really. Main Street consisted of a few clapboard buildings with faded signs that proclaimed “Post Office” or “McNally’s Groceries” or even “Bubba’s Hardware”. For a few minutes, Reine impatiently plodded behind a teenager in a battered pick-up truck who was learning to drive until the kid turned down the driveway that led to the local high school. Immediately, she zoomed ahead only to turn down another road, one hidden behind a cairn topped with a wooden post. Hadrian finally awoke from his morning nap and fumbled instinctively in his coat pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “Don’t you dare,” said Reine, not even glancing at the rear view mirror. “I’ll open the window.” “No.” He sighed, crossing his arms for a lack of anything to occupy his hands. “There are too many trees.” “What do you expect in the middle of a forest?” said Marcus. “An industrial plant?” “Of course not. But I thought Ira said there were mountains or something. You know, I’m not sure if this is such a hot idea. Ira’s great and all, but she’s what, seventy already?” “Sixty-eight.” “Yeah, whatever, but haven’t you noticed that most of her friends are about her age? We’re going to be sitting around in some rustic cabin in the middle of nowhere listening to the good old days when flappers were scandalous in Charleston or something. She might have said that we’ll find interesting people there, but I don’t think she meant people our age, you know? Her other guests are probably some old men who collect rifles to shoot moose with or little old ladies who crochet and speed.” A stick of spearmint chewing gum landed on his lap. “What’s this?” “To shut you up,” replied Marcus. Reine chuckled. “I’m beginning to think I liked you better unconscious.” Hadrian sniffed at the gum suspiciously before he tore open the wrapper and popped it into his mouth. “Oh yeah? What did I say when I was asleep?” “Unfortunately nothing that was blackmail material,” said Reine. He grunted approvingly. For about five more miles, the forest continued like an unending ocean. Reine tapped a finger impatiently at the edge of the steering wheel. The gargoyle on the dashboard nodded its head, keeping time with the tapping. Hadrian snapped his gum loudly and deliberately. An empty coffee cup flew from the front seat only to land on his forehead. He grinned. The forest then abruptly stopped, giving way to a plateaued clearing that overlooked a lake. An enormous shed that doubled as a carport hugged the base of the plateau, but none of the four cars already parked were underneath it for shelter. Instead, they were scattered willy-nilly across the driveway that had terminated into a semi-circle. A small footpath led up the plateau, and at this flattened hill’s crown was topped a large house, a fortress actually that looked like it had been shipped across the Atlantic. It was carved out of dark stone and decorated with towers, each with slits for windows. Reine ground her car to a halt beside a blue Pontiac that looked like it had seen better days thirty years ago. “Finally!” Hadrian exclaimed. He burst out the door with a deceptively lazy movement and stood, only to spit out the gum onto the wrapping he saved before and to take out the pack of cigarettes he located on his breast pocket. After lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag, he said, “Isn’t the air wonderful?” “Speak for yourself,” said Reine, unlocking the trunk and pulling out a suitcase. “We’ve got to lug all this stuff up that damned hill.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He left the cigarette on his lip and sauntered to the back to pull out his own luggage. “Ira wasn’t kidding when she said the house had plenty of room.” The three of them finished unloading the trunk, strapping tote bags and carryons with their shoulders and wheeling the rest of the suitcases behind them. The small footpath wound up the hill at a steep gradient. At the top, they had a panoramic view of the area, downtown Monadnock appeared as a few rooftops, the forest spread out like a gold carpet, and the lake was a dark looking glass, mirroring the sky through a tinted film. Hadrian wheezed. “I’ve got to get more exercise.” “Then give up the cigarettes,” said Marcus. “Never!” He puffed defiantly on the rest of the joint before stubbing it out with the heel of his shoe. “I’ve got to keep up appearances.” A brief grin flitted across Marcus’s mouth. The entrance was framed by a series of three stone steps, each cut a different height, and two stone guardians, a sphinx-like lion sprawled atop a pedestal that doubled as a mailbox and a dragon that twined himself up a lamppost. The front door was a thin slip of dense wood complete with an iron ring doorknocker and a sliding panel on top which the occupant would open in order to inspect strangers. But the panel never opened when Hadrian punched the discrete button for the electric doorbell at the side of the door. Instead, the front door itself opened revealing a woman in her late twenties with long blonde hair the shade of melted butter. Her salmon sweater and jeans did nothing to hide her buxom, yet trim figure. Hadrian and Marcus immediately smiled at her appearance. The woman smiled back. Reine let out a long suffering sigh. Barking was heard from the interior. Suddenly a pudgy English bulldog, white liberally speckled with brown, with a red collar appeared, drool dripping from his lolling tongue. The ugly beast immediately latched himself onto Hadrian’s pant leg. With a yelp, he attempted to shake the animal off, but was unsuccessful. “You must be Amanda,” Hadrian said, thinking back to his last conversation with Ira a week before. The mystery author seemed quite excited that he meet her beloved Amanda. The dog growled. The woman smiled wider. “I’m sorry. I’m Mary Wolfe, Ira’s housekeeper. He’s Amanda. He looks delighted to meet you.” “That’s Amanda?” Reine covered her mouth, squeaking with suppressed laughter. “Ira first thought she had gotten a female, but when we found out Amanda was really a he, it was too late to change the name,” explained Mary. “Well, Ira told me that several of her guests would be arriving later today and she had everything planned out as to where everyone was to stay. Please come in. Would you like to take your bags to your rooms first?” “Yes, if you don’t mind,” Reine said, stepping into the threshold. Amanda finally let go of Hadrian’s leg and waddled back into the house. With a sigh, he followed the others into the interior. “I’m Reine.” “Ah, I heard so much about you,” babbled Mary as she led the three through a foyer covered in traditional Chinese paintings of monkeys, horses, and dragons. “You edit science books, right? Like that book on fossils and geology?” “You mean Drumfield’s book Dinosaurs and Bedrock?” “Yes, that’s it.” Reine peered at the housekeeper speculatively. “I never would have figured you for a fan of science books.” “I am. I guess I live vicariously through them because I know I’ll never be a scientist.” “Is it too much to hope that you also read fiction?” said Marcus. “Literary fiction?” He nodded. Mary made a disgusted face. “You must be the literary fiction editor. No offense, but I think literary fiction is a bit too pretentious. I like mysteries. Especially Ira’s mysteries.” “That’s right up my ally,” exclaimed Hadrian. “Yes it is.” The housekeeper directed them up a flight of stairs that began at the end of the foyer and ended halfway at the first landing on the second floor. A darkened hallway extended in both directions. She motioned towards the left. “So which one of you is Hadrian Block? Ira wants you to stay at the next to the last room on the left. She said to feel free to smoke cigarettes or cigars or joints or whatever as long as you leave the window open. I think it was originally supposed to be a smoking saloon.” “Ira thought of everything!” Hadrian lifted his belongings onto the hallway. “Maybe I’ll give the room a test run.” “Perhaps you should wait until after lunch,” Mary suggested, “because it is being served right now in the dining room downstairs. It’s buffet style so you don’t have to worry appearing too late.” “Hm. I guess you’re right, food it is.” The stairs continued upward with another flight to terminate at the third floor. Another identical hallway streamed in both directions. Mary nodded toward the same direction where Hadrian had gone a floor below. “Ira wanted you two to have the two rooms at the very end. It doesn’t matter which one you pick since they’re both virtually identical. They both share a balcony with a great view of Lake Shayadoh.” “Is that what the lake is called?” mused Reine. “American Indian, isn’t it? What tribe is it from and what does it mean?” Mary shrugged. “I have no idea.” As the housekeeper trudged back down the stairs, Reine dragged her bags down the hall and pushed open the last door on the left. She shoved everything inside. “I’m famished. I’m getting lunch before exploring the place.” Marcus did the same. “Ira must be downstairs. We’ll have to make an appearance to assure her we didn’t get lost on our way here.” “Assuming Hadrian hasn’t beaten us to it.” Downstairs, the foyer led to a main living room the size of a small cavern. The ceiling stretched upwards for another story, the empty wall above decorated with assorted stuffed heads of moose and deer. The head over the fireplace which faced the foyer suspiciously resembled the stag they had nearly run over on their way to Monadnock. “Maybe you should have run that stag over,” Marcus said. “We could have brought the head back to add to Ira’s collection.” “And what, dirty my car with blood? No thanks.” French doors on the right of the living room led directly to the dining room where some guests were already seated, eating and chatting. At the other end of the room was a wet bar set with a dazzling array of food from salads to sandwiches and to soups. Hadrian was already halfway through the line, his plate already piled precariously with sandwiches. “Well good thing we got here when we did,” said Marcus. “If we got here any later all the food would be gone.” “Not really gone,” replied Hadrian, “Just relocated. To my stomach.” The dining table, which looked like it was meant for about ten people, was a long rectangle covered with a forest green tablecloth. Instead of the expected overhead lighting provided by a chandelier, there was a large ceiling fresco of naked nymphs cavorting with lusty fauns. Instead, the actual lighting was provided by a variety of floor lamps in different heights but the same style along the walls. Four guests already occupied the table. An older couple around Ira’s age sat across from two women, probably in their late thirties or forties, who looked too similar to be unrelated. The wife of the couple was a sleek elegant lady with fine silver hair curled up into a chignon at the back of her neck. She wore a simple dark blue long-sleeved dress that was cinched at the waist with a gray belt. Her hands glittered with rings. Her husband appeared to be her perfect match with the same sleek build and same simple fashion sense with a casual gray suit. The man was bald, but had a thick gray moustache that drooped slightly at the ends. The woman sitting across from the wife was plump with crinkle lines at the edge of her eyes and mouth. Her bobbed short hair was graying and she wore a white sweatshirt decorated with pink and blue morning glories. She exuded charm like a tired suburban housewife and picked at the food on her plate, making it obvious that she was on a diet. The woman across from the husband was the most striking of the tetrad in that she was wearing a turban the color of a drag queen’s pink boa (and the feathers sticking up on top of the turban probably came from that same boa) along with a black robe that shimmered whenever she shifted. Only her lined hands revealed her age. Her face was smooth and clear, completely bland except for her eyes which glimmered gold in the light. “Hello,” greeted the older woman, the wife. Her accent held a subtle British lilt. “I’m glad you could make it. Ira promised us a large party. I’m Tabora.” Hadrian, Marcus, and Reine sat down and made hasty introductions. “Is Ira coming for lunch?” inquired Reine. “Unfortunately, no,” Tabora replied. “The butler, what’s-his-name told us that she’ll be busy most of today working on her latest story.” “You’ve got to give an artist some latitude,” her husband said philosophically. “By the way, I’m Stephan.” His accent was much harsher than his wife’s although he was quite soft-spoken. “They’re Baron and Baronness,” said the woman across from Tabora, slightly awed. “They just finished telling us they’re from Germany. Or at least Stephan is. Tabora’s from some titled family in England.” Tabora laughed. “My pedigree isn’t that interesting, Diana.” “Diana is a bit naïve even for her age,” said the turbaned woman. “I’m Xanthia. Xanthia Greenberg.” She held out her hand to Reine who was sitting next to her. Hastily, Reine finished off her latest forkful of salad to shake hands but Xanthia surprised her by jerking it toward her and pulling it palm up. “Birthday?” “Er. Three weeks ago. I just turned twenty-nine. What are you trying to do?” “Xanthia is Ira’s personal astrologer,” Tabora supplied. “Astrologer?” Reine yelped attempting to pull her hand away. Marcus, who sat across from her, coughed to stifle a chuckle. “Ah, very interesting.” Xanthia abruptly let go of her hand sending her careening backwards into Hadrian. “You’re going to have a grand adventure of self-discovery. I can tell you more in private if you drop by my room later.” “Don’t listen to her,” said Diana. “She’s trying to con you.” Instead of spluttering in outrage, Xanthia calmly turned to Diana and said, “You’re not the one with the gift.” “What gift? You’re just not willing to take up a real job.” “And you should have listened to me when I told you not to marry Stan.” “Hey, don’t you dare attack Stan. He’s a nice guy even though he may be a little clueless.” “Clueless, my ass. He’s completely oblivious. That’s why you try to escape real life by reading Ira’s books.” Diana’s face flamed and she ground her teeth. “This discussion is pointless.” “The point is, you never listen to me.” Xanthia serenely took a sip of her tea as if she had already won the argument. Tabora discretely cleared her throat. “Did you hear the news this morning on television?” © 2002, S. Y. Affolee |