Amateur Hour

Nina

As it turned out, there were few areas forbidden to Nina. This would have been liberating, if it were not for Jack. The man was nothing if not attentive. He dogged her every step, never more than ten paces behind her.

He didn’t try to converse with her, which was a mercy, but having him as an extra shadow, was demoralizing. Nina did her best to ignore him, as she made her first exploration of the house and grounds. She found that she was allowed to open most doors, enter most rooms, and examine their contents, at will.

Gordon’s study was off limits — no surprise, there. She was likewise discouraged from entering the kitchen, any tool sheds, the laundry — any place where she might pick up a screwdriver, a blunt heavy object, a blade, or anything that might be a potential weapon.

The library was at her disposal, but Nina found few books there that were to her taste. Ted, she thought, would have taken up residence. Jack watched her, as she read book titles, and ran a finger along their spines, with a smug look on his face, as if he were supervising a child, or maybe an animal that had been loosed from its cage. Nina would have traded all of her paintings, past and future, for the chance to slap that look off his face.

As it was, she refused to acknowledge his presence, as she examined the books.

Probably thinks I can’t read.

Some of the tomes were intimidating — large leather-bound volumes closely printed, which made her eyes feel tired, just peering into them. Some of the art, on the walls, was worth looking at, however.

The portraits didn’t interest her much, with regard to the subjects, themselves. She knew none of the people, after all, but she could appreciate the styles and techniques of the artists. The landscapes were better,as subjects went. It was gratifying to hear Jack, behind her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, becoming restless, as she studied each.

Nina was quite enjoying this excruciating examination of the wall art, until she came upon one specimen, which made her blood run cold. Featured in the painting was a younger Gordon Eldridge — younger by about twenty years, Nina estimated. He was seated in a chair, and standing, just behind and to his right — was a thirty year-old Ted.

Nina suppressed a shudder. Ted had been painted with a slight smile on his face, with his hand resting lightly on his father’s shoulder. She knew, as well as she knew her own name, that he had not posed for this portrait. He would be outraged at the thought of its existence.

At that age — indeed, well before he was that age — Ted had despised Gordon, with every cell in his body. What madness was this, then? Where had Gordon gotten the exemplar, for this painting?

Looking at it, made Nina feel crazy, and sick, herself.

“You’re not the crazy one, here.” It was her interior voice — she knew that — but it sounded a lot like Janice. “Turn away, casually, and find something else to look at.”

That sounded like good advice, so she took it. All the while, she could feel Jack’s smug gaze, boring into the back of her head, as if he were trying to see her very thoughts. Her own eyes were darting, but Jack couldn’t see that, and they came to rest on a wall display, some ten feet away, between two sets of bookshelves.

Nina could hardly credit what she was seeing. It was an assortment of Native American paraphernalia. Some of it was recognizably Creek and Seminole handcrafts; other bits and pieces were from Plains tribes. The feature that had caught her attention was the rack of flutes in the center. There were six of them, in various keys, resting on holders of deer antler, affixed to a cedar wood frame.

Were they playable? Gordon Eldridge seemed just the type of man to purchase an instrument, to live on his wall, because it was pretty, and the flutes were certainly that. They ran the gamut of woods, from cedar, to walnut, to maple, to cherry. Some were ornately carved, to suggest animals. One was inlaid with turquoise. Another had burned-in designs, that suggested that it might be Navajo, in origin.

Nina reached for that one, a maple flute, brought it to her lips, closed the six holes with her fingers, and blew a note. It was in the key of E, her favorite. Even as she drew in a full breath, meaning to extemporize, a bit, Jack came striding toward her, from his post, by the door. She heard him, and she turned to face him, with defiant eyes.

Before the nurse could snatch the flute from her fingers, Nina managed about ten notes. She bared her teeth in his face, in something that might have been called a grin, but wasn’t, as he glared down at her.

The moment spun out, for what felt like an eternity.

“Give it back,” Gordon said, from the doorway. “If she can play it, she may have it. That one belonged to Hannah,” he turned his gaze on Nina, dismissing Jack. “As did that D, in cherry wood. The others, I collected, over the years. I don’t know if those can be played, to any effect. You’re welcome to try them, if you wish. Feel free to take the one you were playing, with you.”

“Thank you,” Nina was forced to say. Her mind added: You crazy old bastard.

“I’m pleased I found you. I thought I would ask you to take tea with me, in the sitting room.”

Nina managed to conceal her distaste at the prospect. It didn’t seem a huge price to pay, for a small victory over Jack, and the use of a fine flute. She might learn something, interesting. It was an opportunity Janice would take advantage of.

*******

“Did Hannah teach you to play?” Gordon asked, when they were seated, with tea and finger sandwiches, between them.

“Yes. Anyone can get a note out of a Native American flute. I had one, when I was little. A cheap, simple thing, and I could get notes out of it, but no music. Hannah saw me playing with it, one day, and asked to try it.”

“And charmed you with the instrument, all over again, I expect.”

“Something like that. I can’t believe she left hers, behind.”

“She would have taken it, if she could have. As it was, she took my son, and the clothes they were wearing. I kept everything else.”

“Not everything,” some impulse made her say.

Gordon paused, in the act of stirring cream into his tea, to cock his head and gaze quizzically at her. He looked, for all the world, like a curious emu.

“Perhaps not,” he allowed, with the faintest hint of a smile. “But everything tangible, certainly. In any case, I don’t play the flute, and you do. You might as well get some entertainment out of that one, or any of the others.”

Nina merely inclined her head, politely. She wasn’t about to thank him, profusely, for allowing her to use something he had stolen from Hannah.

They drank tea and nibbled the tiny sandwiches, for a few moments. At least, Nina nibbled. There was nothing wrong with Gordon’s appetite, though his manners were irreproachable.

“Do you have an interest in Native American art?” Nina asked.

“None, whatsoever,” Gordon smiled, shaking his head. “Like many men, who can afford to do so, I hired decorators. The young woman who did the library asked to curate some of the things I had on hand and in storage. She found the the flutes and the rack, then added the other items, to create the display.”

“But, you did collect the flutes.”

Gordon frowned, slightly exasperated. “Two were Hanna’s. Two were gifts to Ted from me, when he was a boy. As it happens, he has no more talent for music, than I do. The other two could have been anyone’s — even my father’s. More than likely, they belonged to my mother, or… What does it matter?” he demanded, irritably.

“It doesn’t,” Nina smiled. “I was just curious.” She dropped her eyes to her plate, and picked up a cucumber sandwich. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to let him see that she was pleased about having rattled him.

“That’s not to say that I have no interest in Native American artists,” Gordon said, a shade too smoothly. “I’ve seen some of your work. Photos of it, at any rate. You’re quite good.”

Photos that had been taken in her own home. Maybe even in her studio. The thought of Gordon’s goons (she was sure they were goons), plundering her studio, was gut twisting.

“Thank you,” she replied, calmly, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “Coming from someone with so many… ‘inspired’ portraits, in his library, that’s a compliment.”

To her utter amazement, Gordon laughed. He was laughing at her, and it seemed he might never stop. “My dear — ” he exclaimed, when was able. “I was led to believe that you were sweet, but not very bright. Clearly, someone misled me. So, you saw my little bit of special portraiture, did you?”

“I did, yes.”

“Well, what did you think?”

The look in his eyes was both intent and manic. He was unstable – no doubt about it.

“It’s a good likeness, of both of you.”

“Yes, yes. But, what do you think, Nina?”

She couldn’t take any more of this. The tension was too much, and the remark about her being ‘not very bright’, had hit a little too close to home.

“I think it must hurt, to have a son you have to paint into your life – who doesn’t resemble you, in any way.”

*******

Liam

The remainder of Liam’s day was no better than the beginning had been. Not three hours after having slandered the love of his life, he was then obliged to crawl to her, for her assistance in returning the borrowed student files to Starkey’s office.

Had she spat in his face, he wouldn’t have blamed her, but Janice, true to form, had already had an excuse ready, to request a chat, with the Dean. She hadn’t been particularly excited to see Liam, but she was prepared and willing.

The result of the exercise had been almost anticlimactic. Janice had kept Starkey engaged, and Liam had replaced the files, without a hitch. He’d loitered in the corridor, waiting for her to emerge, but when she had, she’d had very little to say to him.

From that point, the day seemed to drag. The morose boys, from breakfast had evolved, to become the sullen boys, at lunch — none more so than Guy Ramirez, who shot him looks of reproach, every time their eyes met.

By the time he climbed into the driver’s seat of The Hulk, Liam felt like a wad of chewing gum, on the bottom of a shoe.

“Any thoughts about dinner?” Janice asked. Her tone was quiet, neutral.

“Not really. Would you like for me to cook?”

“No. It’s my night, but I thought I’d spring for takeout, if you don’t mind. Your choice — I’m not picky.”

“Barbecue?” It was the first thing that came to mind. He was grateful that anything came to mind.

“Sounds good,” she agreed.

Liam nodded and started the car.

“Who do you know, who has a boat?” she asked.

“Boat?” He was drawing a blank, at what seemed like an odd question. Then, he remembered. “Oh. I thought I’d ask Tuck if I could borrow his Jon boat.”

“You might want to borrow Tucker, too, while you’re at it. But you won’t get him, for a few days. I talked to Lisa, this morning. He and Will are on some kind of cowboy camp out.”

Liam chuffed a short laugh, before he remembered himself. “And, once, I was worried that it would take Lisa forever to warm up to you. You’re thick as thieves.” he explained.

“Nonsense. Everyone is helpless before my intoxicating charm. When I’m not being a ball buster, that is.”

Liam glanced at her. She wasn’t angry. She was hurt, and that was worse.

“Jan — I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean it, and it was so wrong and unfair, to say. I’ll do anything you ask, to make it up to you.”

“All I want, is to know what put you in this horrible frame of mind, Liam. What, in God’s name, did Ted say, to you?”

Liam sighed. The truth would only worry and upset her. Yet, she was worried and upset, now. And hurt. He had hurt her.

“Ted told me he plans to murder his father. He meant it, Jan. There are about a dozen reasons I didn’t feel like I could tell you that. I didn’t want to dump more stress on you, but I did it, anyway, acting the way I have. I didn’t want to betray the man’s confidence, though it wasn’t morally correct to keep a secret like that one. I thought I should try to handle it, on my own, which is laughable — Ted and I aren’t best buddies. I’m not sure we even like each other. But, you like him, and I didn’t want to be responsible for you liking him less.”

“Well…” Janice began. “I’ve seen gherkins in less of a pickle, I have to admit.”

“Yeah? Does that mean you’ll think about forgiving me?”

“I am a sucker for a confession. You buy dinner, and it’s a deal. On full stomachs, we might even come up with an intervention plan.”

“I love you, you know.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

Steph

She was in the process of loading her new backpack, and plying herself with coffee, when Guy called.

“Watcha doin’?” he asked.

“Something I’ll regret,” Steph replied, stifling a yawn.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No. I took a nap. Trying to wake up, again.”

“Big plans, tonight?”

Steph had to smile. He sounded almost jealous.

“Barhopping the length and breadth of the metro Cottonwood area, with five of my closest friends,” she retorted. “Just a stakeout, vato.”

“Yeah? Who are you watching?”

“Gordon Eldridge. Ted’s pretty sure he has Nina.”

“Rich guys tend to have good security,” he warned.

“I’m not going to park in front of his house, Guy. Give me credit, for some common sense.”

“I do. Of course, I do. Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m just restless. I want to get out of here, so bad. Doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen, anytime soon, though.”

Steph listened, while he filled her in, on the situation with Franklin Riley.

“Damn,” she said, when he had finished. “I was really hoping you could slip out of there.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. There’s no reason I can’t go, when Riley goes.”

“So, you’ve talked to him, then.”

“I didn’t disclose everything. Just said I might have a plan. He half believes me, which is fair, ‘cause it’s only about half a plan. Liam will come through, if he can, I know. I just hate the waiting.”

*******

Gordon Eldridge lived in a modest mansion, on sixty acres, between Chattahoochee and Sneads. Its eastern boundary was on the Apalachicola, where the woods were moderate to dense.

A series of dirt, gravel, and partially paved back roads had gotten Steph to these woods, but she was going to have to hike a bit, to reach the house. The notion didn’t thrill her, but it was inarguably the least conspicuous approach. It was also the least likely to be peppered with security cameras.

The three-quarters moon, though setting, would provide all the light she would need, in the dark. It would also make Guy’s car glow, like a fluorescent light bulb, behind the low scrub, where she had parked it. The camouflage tarp she had purchased, should help, as long as a breeze didn’t dislodge it. She doubted this was the kind of road normally patrolled by the County Sheriff, anyway.

Her olive green backpack, loaded with all the equipment she had been able to round up, rested heavily on her shoulders, at first. No doubt, she would get used to it, and to the scent of the bug repellent, which managed, somehow, to be both sticky and greasy, on her skin.

She made one final check, before setting off. Pack, check; gloves, check; hiking stick, check. Steph had also invested in a smart phone, for the GPS. She double checked it, now, to make sure she had a signal. Two bars — not great, but not bad. Coordinates entered; ringer, off; vibrate on. All set.

The actual distance wouldn’t be far, less than half a mile, but she had no real idea what the terrain would be like. Snaky, no doubt, and full of greenbriar, that might trip her up, just to keep things interesting.

Hiking had never been her thing, any more than camping had. Steph was a sneakers-on-pavement kind of girl, who happened to see well, in the dark. Each time she checked her position, using the phone, she had to allow her eyes to readjust. This slowed her a bit, but she wasn’t concerned. She’d have found a position and be settled into it, well before the sun came up.

Greenbriars did reach for her ankles, and she managed to startle a doe, who snorted disapproval at her, before bolting. Owls called, from tree to tree, and opossums scuttled in the underbrush. Otherwise, it was an uneventful, slightly uphill stroll.

A chain-link fence met her, at the edge of the woods, eight feet tall, and topped with three strands of barbed wire. This was where she would have had to stop, anyway. The lawn beyond the fence provided no real cover.

The scent of strong chemicals assaulted her nose. Pool chemicals, the kind thrown in, at the beginning of the season. No one would be sitting downwind of that, for a while. Steph followed the fence line, upwind. Most of the windows, upstairs, were dark. Downstairs there was more lighting, most of it dim. From where she stood, outside one area, with an adjacent lanai, she could see some signs of movement, within. Servants, she guessed, getting the house up to speed, for the day.

This seemed as good a place, as any, to post herself. She might be able to get closer to the front of the house, to watch the comings and goings, but she doubted Nina, if she was here, would be going anywhere.

Fading back, in a nearly straight line, brought her against the trunk of some species of oak. She could sit under it, out of view, and have a nice sight line to this corner of the house.

It might be too much to hope that anyone would be breakfasting, al fresco — it was already humid — but maybe someone would step out, for some fresh air. Eventually.

Guy had little patience for waiting, but Steph had never minded it. She shrugged off her pack, and sat down with it. Water was the first thing she wanted. She dug it out of the pack, took a deep chug, then brought out some other things; the binoculars, the camera, and an egg sandwich. The latter was somewhat misshapen, but still edible. She’d eaten nothing since lunch, the previous day.

Daylight brought only a few people onto the scene. A pool man, making his way to the chlorinated cauldron she’d smelled, earlier; a maid, shaking out a rug, who returned a few moments later, to sweep the entire lanai. Around mid morning, a gardener showed up with a set of electric hedge trimmers, to take a little off the top and sides of the boxwood.

Steph shifted as she watched him. Her ass was going to sleep, and she was aware of a growing need to pee. She decided now was as good a time as any, and she climbed to her feet. Her legs had grown stiff, and her butt was shot through with pins and needles, as she scouted for a likely bush.

When she returned from relieving herself, the lanai was no longer empty. A young woman was there, flanked by a big man, in teal scrubs – the kind she’d seen the medical staff wear, at the school. As Steph watched, the woman placed something long and tubular, on one of the white, wrought iron tables, then proceeded to drag one of the chairs out from under the partial roof, into a sunnier spot.

The man moved to assist her, with the heavy chair, but she barked something at him, and he stepped back. When the chair was placed to her satisfaction, she retrieved the tube from the table, and sat down.

Steph raised her binoculars, for a better look. There was absolutely no doubt. She didn’t need to compare the living woman to the photo. It was Nina Billie.

Nina brought the flute to her lips, and began to play. Steph, expecting a melancholy tune, was surprised by the energy in the song. It sounded, for all the world, like a musical ‘up yours’ tribute, to someone.

The camera had a zoom that was adequate, if not excellent, and Steph got several good shots of Nina. She took a few of the man in the scrubs, as well. He was vaguely familiar. If Ted couldn’t identify him, maybe facial recognition software could.