The Hunt Chronicles: Volume 1 (13 page)

The museum great
room was extravagantly posh; marble floors and large mahogany doors leading off
to God knew where.  Classical music echoed from somewhere deep inside the
belly of the architectural beast.  I gazed upwards towards the sound, and
my eyes locked on a very large crystal chandelier hanging over the center of
the room.  Directly beneath it was a fair-sized fountain. 
It’s
top levels quietly overflowing and trickling down to
the lower pool.

We walked towards
the fountain and sat down on the rim of its basin.  I stared back the way
we had just come and I seemed to lose myself in the magnitude of the room and
the sounds of soothing water drips and spills.  “Arnold donated this
fountain,” Leon said, dragging me back into reality.  “Isn’t it nice?”

“Quite,” I
replied.  “What do you mean donated?”

“Just
what I said.
  Paid for it out
of
his own
pocket a few months ago. 
Said he wanted to leave something behind to be remembered by.”
 
I twisted at the waist and gawked at the sheer lavishness of the
fountain.  When I left teaching, the only thing I wanted people to
remember about me was the fact that I was retired.  Leon pointed to our left. 
“That door there leads to Human Sciences,” he explained, pointing to the large
dark doors to the left of the main entrance.

“Emily’s
department?”
  I asked, and my
voice climbed an octave in excitement.

“That’s right, Lover
Boy,” Leon replied, and I jabbed him with my elbow.  “She’s the only one
here who’s still a volunteer, you know.”

“How generous of her
to give up her own time to-”

“Yeah, anyway,” he
butted in.  “Over there is Animal Sciences,” he said, pointing to the doors
to the left of Human Sciences.  “Dr. Carol
Sykora
takes care of that.  She’s a former zoo vet, actually.  Has some very
interesting tales about her safari expeditions. 
Big
animal nut.”
He explained.

“I like her
already,” I replied.

“On the other side of
us is Botanical Sciences,” Leon said, pointing to the right, opposite Animal
Sciences.  “Botanist Dennis
Trago
runs the show
in there.  He’s got some beautiful specimens in there, Reevan. 
Plants from all over the world.”

“So he’s a florist,”
I said sarcastically.

“No,
a botanist.
  There is a
difference,” Leon said.

“Yeah, florists have
more
pizzazz
.”  Leon laughed despite his attempt not to do so.

“And last is
Mechanical Sciences, governed by the genius sitting next to you,” he said,
pointing to the doors to the right of the main entrance.

“Mechanical
Science, like Volvos and Fords, right?”
I teased.

“Hardly,” he
said.  “The same stuff I used to teach, except on a scale a bit more
extravagant than the average school board would allow.  The fundamentals are
the same; electricity from potatoes, complete battery circuits, etcetera. 
I like to think the kids like my stuff the best.  My department has the
most stuff to play with.” 
Stuff with which to play
the voice in my
head whispered.  I scratched my brow and looked around again.

“So where the hell
is this party?” I said finally.  “If you think I’m eating in a room
surrounded by stuffed animals or a life-size model of my own digestive tract,
you’re out of your gourd.”

“Behind us, around
the fountain,
is
Arnold’s office, and the office for
his Assistant, Dolores
Tilson
.  There is a
boardroom back there too.  That’s where everybody probably is.  Let’s
get going.”  Leon was up on his feet, accompanied by the sound of his own
joints cracking.  He started walking away, but then turned back to me when
he realized I wasn’t moving. 
“Something wrong?”

“You go ahead,” I
said.  “I’ll meet you there.”  I tried to hide the grin that I knew
was forming at my lips, and I must have done all right, because Leon nodded and
walked on without me.  I twisted around and watched him open a door on the
wall far behind me.  I heard voices emanating from inside, and then the
door closed.  I turned and looked at the door to the Botanical Sciences
Department.  “Botanist, florist; same damn thing,” I said aloud.

Raised voices exuded
from the boardroom as I neared the door.  Before entering, I peered
through the crack enough to see Leon standing between a short fat man and a
middle-aged woman. 
“-over my dead body!”
The
woman screamed and took a step
forward,
her shoulder
bumping into Leon’s outstretched hand.

“Calm down, you
two,” Leon pleaded.  “Remember why we’re here tonight.”

“Yes, do calm down,
Carol,” the fat man said sarcastically.  “At your age, you can’t risk some
kind of cardiac episode.”

“I wouldn’t talk
about cardiac episodes if I were you, tubby!”  The woman shouted
back.  I started laughing.  My hand brushed the door as I raised it
to cover my mouth.  It creaked ever so quietly, but it cut through the
room like a guillotine.  The shouting stopped, and the three heads all
turned to face me.

I opened the door
and strolled in, trying to act as if I hadn’t heard anything at all.  “Oh,
here’s the party,” I said in surprise.  “”Heard you three laughing all the
way out there,” I thumbed over my shoulder.  “Don’t tell me this is an
open bar occasion.”

“Reevan!”
  Leon shouted back with smile.  “Reevan,
come in, come in.”  Leon walked around the table to greet me.  Carol
pulled at the hips of her dress to pull out the wrinkles her fit of rage no
doubt caused.  The fat man stood smiling with his hands in his
pockets.  “Reevan, this is Carol
Sykora
, head
of-“

“-Animal Sciences,”
I interjected.  “Yes, Leon has told me so much about you, Dr.
Sykora
, isn’t it?”  She smiled, and walked casually
around the table towards me.  The black dress she had was patterned with
red flowers, and was quite becoming.  She must have caught me staring
because when my eyes met hers, a smile exploded onto her face.

“Please, it’s
Carol,” she said in a sweet voice, very unlike the one I heard scream a few
moments earlier.  “It’s so nice to finally meet you.  Leon told us
all about you and your recent celebrity.  So glad you could make it.”

 “And this is
Dennis
Trago
,” Leon said, opening his hand toward the
obese man in the corner.

“Oh yes,” I said,
“the florist. 
A pleasure, sir.”
I offered my
outstretched right hand.  His chubby right hand came out of his pocket and
grasped mine.  Behind me, I could hear Carol snickering.  Dennis’
chubby face turned an
embarrassed
shade of red.

“The pleasure is
mine,” he replied, “though actually, I’m a Botanist.”

“Close enough,”
Carol blurted out, and started to laugh.

“Well, it looks like
the party has started without us,” a man’s voice said from behind me.  I
turned back to the door to see an older man and two women standing in the
doorway.  “Mr. Hunt, isn’t it?”  The man asked.  “Yes, it is
you.  I recognize you from your picture.  I can’t tell you how glad I
am that you could come tonight.  I’m Arnold Medley.”  I shook the
man’s hand as I stared into the white glare of his bifocals.  He was
shorter than me, but not by much.  Balding severely, but not entirely; his
gray mustache matched the hair still left above both ears.

“Thank you for
having me,” I replied.  “Congratulations on your retirement.”

“Thank you, thank
you,” he said as he slowly came in and headed for a seat at the end of the
table.  As if instinctively, Dennis waddled over to his boss and pulled
out his chair.  After Arnold sat, Dennis stood to his right, hands clasped
in front of his gut.  “That there is Dolores, my Administrative
Assistant.”  Dolores stepped into the room and shook my hand.  A
short, but attractive woman with short blond hair, Dolores gazed into my eyes
threw her own pair of spectacles.

Probably in her
mid-40’s, Dolores was clearly the youngest person in the room.  Her bubbly
smile and perky tone set her apart from the rest of the walking cadavers that
surrounded me.  “I feel like I should ask for your autograph,” she said
with a giggle.  “We’ve heard so much about you.” 

“From the
papers,
or from Leon?”  I asked.

“Well, both, and
then from Emily, of course,” she said, nodding in her direction. 
Still in the doorway, like a shy little girl, stood Emily
Sellars
.
  I barely recognized her at first in a
stunning blue dress, awkwardly clutching a matching sky blue purse.  It
was a big change from her usual lab coat, polo shirt and slacks ensemble. 
I stepped towards her and spoke, softly.

“Only good things, I
hope.”

“Only the best,” she
replied.  Since my own entrance into the room, I had made a conscious
effort to keep my left hand behind my back.  Then, as I faced Emily in the
doorway with my back to the others, I heard a faint whimper.

“Is that one of my
orchids?”  A voice said.  I turned around, now clutching the white
flower in front of me.  I looked at it, an exquisite orchid with six
vibrant petals, and then looked at the fat man across the room.  His hands
were no longer clasped in front of him but on his large hips, like a mother
disappointed in her naughty child.  Emily came into the room and stood at
my right.  I looked at her, then back at the flower, then back at Dennis
Trago
once more.

“Well, I guess it
is.  I got it in the gift shop just outside.”  Carol started
snickering again, and this time, she wasn’t alone.  Arnold brought his
hand up to his mouth to hide the smile forming on his lips.  Even Leon
turned to face the wall.

“That isn’t a gift
shop, that’s the Botanical Garden,” the paunchy man blubbered at me.  “And
that’s a very rare species of orchid!”

“Even rarer now,”
Carol mumbled.  Arnold and Leon started fidgeting with laughter.

“If it’s so rare,
you should really keep the door to that garden of yours locked.”

“But it was
loc
-“

“For you, Madam,” I
said, ignoring him.  Emily took the orchid by its stem and looked up at
me.  She opened her mouth to speak when someone’s cell phone went
off.  I was the only one in the room that didn’t reach into his pocket or
purse, since I don’t have one to check.  Emily opened her purse and dropped
the orchid inside as she pulled out her own phone.  Disappointment swept
over me.

“Yes?” Arnold said,
holding the tiny phone up to his ear.  “Excellent,” he said and hung up,
folding the phone in half and placing it back in his breast pocket.  “The
food is here ladies and gentlemen.  Why don’t you all set up while I give
our guest the celebrity tour?”

I followed Medley
out of the boardroom and to the right.  He produced a ring of keys that
jingled loudly and echoed in the openness of the great room.  Medley’s
door eventually swung open and I followed him inside.  “You’re just as
funny as I thought you’d be, Mr. Hunt.”

“Call me
Reevan.  Why do you say that?  Don’t tell me you were one of my
students back in the day.”  Medley laughed as he got behind his
desk.  He outstretched his hand to a leather guest chair.  I sat down
and gazed around his magnificent office.

The room reeked of
class and sophistication from the Persian rug on the floor to the handcrafted
set of wooden wind chimes hanging from the ceiling over his desk. 
Beautiful displays of art decorated the space; paintings, statues, even his
desk set looked regal and distinguished.  The chair in which I was sitting
cushioned my hind-quarters like a leather slice of heaven. 
I could
live in this room
I thought to myself, and the small voice inside my head
finally chimed in with
No, you could die in this room.  Reevan Hunt
could die in this room, surrounded by the tastes of the world, and he’d have a
smile on his face.
  It was a disturbing thought, though not
untrue.  I pushed it away and repeated my question.  “Why do you say
that?”  The man sat down with a sigh and a grumble and looked at me from
across a mammoth mahogany desk.

“
Murder is always
a mistake.  One should never do anything that one cannot talk about after
dinner
.”  I stared at him, confused at first.  He was looking off
somewhere, above my head.  My eyes glared as I thought of his statement,
and then I realized it wasn’t his statement at all.  It was mine.

“You have an
impeccable memory, Arnold.  That article came out weeks ago.”  He
laughed again, and snapped one of his fingers to show how pleased he was with
himself.

“When a reporter
asks an Average Joe on the street what he thinks of the murder of the richest
man in an entire state, you expect something a bit more crass and uncut, but
also useless and forgettable.  When I read
your
reply, I couldn’t
help but store it away for a rainy day.”