The Plot (5 page)

"Sure, Selena. No problem. Do you need me to look something up for you and call you back?"

"Oh, no. Mailing it to me will be okay.” She hesitated a moment and added, “I am not going to be here long."

"I see. Well, just a second while I find something to write on,” Cassie replied, holding the receiver between her chin and shoulder as she opened the small drawer.

"That is not necessary,” Selena said quickly. “The information is in the address book. I must go now, Cassie darling. Please take care of that
right away
. I will be back in touch with you as soon as I am able."

"I will, Selena. And thanks so much for calling."

"Goodbye, Cassie. Take care,” she said, breaking the connection.

Cassie put the receiver back in its cradle and looked at the motel bill as memories of Selena Cordon filled her mind. The first time she'd met the striking olive-skinned woman with the thick, wavy black hair and chocolate-colored eyes had been at Daddy's Hong Kong office. She had worked for his predecessor, and Daddy decided to keep her on as his own secretary. When he returned to the States, Selena resigned and came back, too. Cassie remembered the rumors that had spread about them, but Mother refused to listen and told Cassie to do likewise.

"Your father and Selena have a very special relationship,” Mother had said when Cassie asked her about the odd looks people gave them at dinner parties. “Your father is not that kind of man, and Selena is definitely not that kind of a woman. As far as I'm concerned, I'd trust Selena with my life, and I hope you won't let people's foolishness bother you.” Cassie had taken her at her word, and Selena had indeed become a very dear friend to all of them.

So Mother was wrong about them, Cassie thought, pursing her lips as she lay the motel bill with the other receipts.
Yes, indeed, how much we learn about people from these insignificant pieces of paper.
She took a deep breath and shook her head.
You're jumping to conclusions. Just because Selena may have been with Daddy in Tallahassee doesn't mean they ever betrayed Mother.
She shook her head again. “No. Selena has been good to me. To all of us. If she and Daddy had an affair, it wasn't until after we lost my mother. And Mother would have approved,” she said aloud, remembering how her mother said she hoped Daddy wouldn't be lonely after she was gone.
Selena would never betray Mother-or any of us. To believe otherwise is just plain stupid, and I'm not going to let stupid ideas ruin my relationship with someone I love and who loves me.

Cassie stood and went across the hall to the guest room, thinking about the many nights Selena Cordon had spent there. How convenient, she thought, but pushed the ugly suspicions from her mind as she went to the small, cherrywood writing desk that rested beneath the front window. She turned the switch on the white ginger jar lamp atop the desk and opened the drawer. The blue address book was right where Selena had said it would be. Cassie pulled it out, closing the drawer quietly as if to avoid awakening anyone.

She'd never known much about Selena's private life. Only that her parents had fled from Cuba when Selena was a child, had settled in Miami with so many of the other refugees, and that Selena still had family in Cuba. Cassie wondered if that was where Selena was now.

She opened the leather book and caught her breath, unprepared for what was written there:

My dear Cassie,

If Selena has contacted you to send this to her, it means that my fears were well founded. I don't know if I will have had the chance to tell you about my work. If not, or even if I have, I hope you will try to finish what I've begun.

I'm sorry to be so cryptic, but the very fact that you are reading this means I am right to be careful. I have long known that I'm in danger because of what I have learned, and now, sadly, I am placing you in danger. If it wasn't so important, I would never put you in this position. But, Cassie, everything we cherish, our entire way of life hangs in the balance, and I know you are as smart as you are courageous. If anyone can pick up where I leave off, it is you.

It will help you to know that Freedom has its own charm. Use it to unlock Freedom's door and look to the second right for direction.

I hope you know how proud your mother and I have always been of you, Sweetheart, and I hope that you will keep the words of my favorite song close to your heart as you follow in my path. They will encourage and comfort you-as they have me.

And Cassie, it's essential that you keep this under your hat. Their influence is so widespread, you must trust no one except Selena.

Love always,

Daddy

There was a postscript at the bottom written in Selena's familiar left-leaning handwriting.

Cassie. Two days from the day I telephone you about this book, please go to Books and Beanz. Wear the silk flower corsage you will find in your top dresser drawer. I will call you there at 7:00 p.m. Eastern Time. I am certain that your father's telephone is being monitored by the authorities, but we must talk.

And, Darling, be careful. Remember, you are not really alone.

Much love,

Selena

With a heavy heart, Cassie folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket, remembering the sound of Daddy's smooth baritone voice seeping through the bathroom door as he sang the theme song of
The Man from La Mancha
—"To fight for the right without question or pause ... to be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause..."

Sighing, she replaced the address book in the drawer and turned to see May Lee watching her from the doorway. “Oh! I didn't hear you come upstairs.”
How much did May Lee see?

"Am I intruding?” she asked, looking toward the drawer that held the address book.

"No. Uh, not at all. Of course not,” Cassie answered.

May Lee's face relaxed a little. “I've brought you some dinner and a few groceries. It is time someone began taking care of
you
."

"Oh, you needn't worry about me. I'm okay. A little tired maybe,” Cassie replied, walking toward the other woman to guide her from the guest room and down the stairs. “A lot has happened today."

The maid nodded. “I know. The service was beautiful, though. Your father was a great and good man."

Cassie looked at her.
She doesn't know.
“May Lee, there's something I need to show you,” she said, stopping at the foot of the steps and opening the front door of the study.

May Lee's eyes opened wide. “Dear Lord! What has happened?"

"We had a visit from some very unfriendly people, I'm afraid,” Cassie replied. “I discovered it when I returned from the service."

May Lee stepped gingerly into the room and looked around. “Oh, Miss Cassie. All of Mr. Hart's pictures. His awards.” Her voice quavered. “Why? Who would do such a thing?"

"I'm not sure, but I think they were—”
Trust no one but Selena
.

"What about the silver? And the jewelry?"

"All where they're supposed to be. Completely untouched,” Cassie said, placing her hand on the maid's arm to calm her.

May Lee shook her head. “It is wrong. So very, very wrong. Mr. Hart's whole world was wrapped up in this room in one way or another. It is bad enough that he had to die when he had so much reason to live ... but,
this
... this
insult
is too much."

"I know. But the police will find whoever did this, I'm sure.” Cassie made herself sound more confident than she felt.

The maid looked into Cassie's eyes. “You must eat. You need all the strength you can get. I will fix your dinner now,” she said and, turning on her heel, headed toward the kitchen.

It was dark outside by the time May Lee drove away. Cassie waved goodbye from the porch and returned to the kitchen just as the telephone rang.

"Hello, Cassandra. It's Hamilton Bates."

"Oh. Hi, Uncle Hamilton,” she replied almost absently, staring at the box containing Daddy's ashes that May Lee had moved to the sideboard before putting dinner on the table.

"I thought I should call and see how you're doing. It's been a trying day for you, to say the least."

"Yeah. You can say that again. More than you know.” She forced her eyes away from the box that held so much-and so little.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Someone broke in here while we were at the memorial service. The police were here until just a couple of hours ago."

"Someone broke in? Did they take anything?” His words sounded measured.

"Well, all of his computer disks are missing. The study is trashed. All of his pictures, certificates, and mementoes destroyed."

"Anything else?"

Good grief. Isn't that enough?
“No. They didn't touch either the silver or the jewelry-nothing of real
value
.” Her voice rose a notch. “When I got home, everything looked just like it always did. I didn't even know anyone had been in the house until I went into the study."

"Are you alone?"

"I am now. May Lee brought me some dinner, but she just left."

"I spoke with an Investigator Henshaw earlier."

"Oh. Did he tell you about the burglary?"

"Yes, but only that one had occurred. He wouldn't tell me much. Something about ‘an on-going investigation'. He suggested I call you. I was going to call you anyway, of course. To check on you."

Why didn't he say he already knew? And why didn't he call right away?
“Well, I'm more angry than upset. I was scared earlier, but now I just want to find out who stole Daddy's work."

"Do you, ah, know what he was working on?” An almost imperceptible edge had crept into his voice.

"I told you before, just like I told the police, Daddy was killed just before he could tell me about it.” Her voice rose even higher.

He took a moment before answering. “Well, did the police-or you-find any evidence as to who might have broken in?"

"Nope. I don't think so. Not yet, anyway."

"You know, Cassandra, rumors have been around for a long time that your father was researching something he considered very important."

"Yeah? Well, I wouldn't be surprised if some rival publication-or some sleazy journalist-broke in here. There's not a reporter in the world who wouldn't sell his mother for a Pulitzer, and Daddy thought his story would win it hands down."

"He told you that?"

"Yes,” she replied, dragging the word out, wondering whether she should have mentioned that. “Didn't you know?"

"Ah, well, not specifically. You know, your father and I haven't seen much of each other since his return from Hong Kong."

In the agony and confusion of the past few days, Cassie had all but forgotten the estrangement between her father and Uncle Hamilton. His helpfulness to her-almost from the moment of her father's death-had driven the memory of Daddy's bitterness toward his old friend from her mind. Now, she questioned whether she should be accepting his help. She took a sip of cold coffee.

"Cassandra? Are you there?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm here. I was just thinking. How come you called Investigator Henshaw?"

It was Bates’ turn to pause before answering. “I was hoping to find out how the investigation of the hit-and-run was proceeding. As your godfather, I feel it's important for me to be certain that they, ah, don't drop the ball. Even if it was an
accident
, it shouldn't go unpunished."

"Yes, of course. Well, that was very kind of you. You've been so good to me throughout this whole ordeal."

"I wouldn't have it any other way,” he said. “I hope you'll allow me to continue being of help to you. In fact, I hope you'll tell the police they have your permission to keep me informed."

"Uh, well, I really hate to be a bother to you."

"It's no bother, Cassandra. Believe me. I want to do it. In fact, I
insist
on it. You know you have always been very special to me."

"Yes. Thank you, Uncle Hamilton."

"Oh, and Cassandra?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I know this has all been very painful for you, but try to remember that, no matter what happens, everything is working according to plan. And call me if you need anything."

"Yes, thanks. G'bye,” she replied, feeling a little embarrassed for him as she hung up.
According to plan?
How odd. Surely he meant according to
God's
plan? He must be more upset than he's letting on. Uncle Hamilton never misstates anything.

Max dropped his briefcase on the coffee table and went to the small kitchen, turning the television on as he passed. Once upon a time, the television had been the least used piece of furniture in his home. But that was before a drunken teenager who couldn't read a Stop sign killed Alice and little Lisa. Now, it was his constant companion in the small, one-bedroom apartment, whose utter silence was broken only by the drone of the TV. It kept him company at breakfast, welcomed him home at night, and lulled him to sleep in the lonely bed. Taking a glass from the cabinet, he dropped a couple of ice cubes into it and poured himself a generous portion of Jack Daniels-another companion that had once been almost a stranger to him.

The dog food commercial was about over when Max dropped tiredly onto the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table and taking a sip of the liquid that stung his throat. Maybe I should get a dog, he thought, watching the golden retriever's big brown eyes staring into the camera. Naw. I'm not here enough to take care of one. It'd crap all over the place. And more crap is not what I need right now. Maybe Sheila is right. Maybe it's time to bury the dead. The image of Alice's auburn hair and brown eyes, the memory of Lisa's tiny giggle filled the room. Problem is, what's not ‘dead’ can't be buried. He took another sip of whiskey as the local news came on.

"
Good evening. This is Genevieve Stone sitting in for Tom McGuire. Topping the local news, a memorial service for famed journalist and Pulitzer Prize winning author Madison Hart was held at National Cathedral today,"
said the square-jawed brunette. “
Dignitaries from all walks of life gathered to mark the passing of this remarkable man,"
continued her voice as a video showed the crowd leaving the church.