Hidden Talents (20 page)

There was no denying that he had a certain rugged charm, which would probably stand him in good stead with generations of female undergraduates. He looked more like a dashing foreign correspondent than a professor of sociology. The leather jacket he wore over his khaki shirt had a well-worn look that had been induced by the designer, not by actual hard use in the field. It went well with his low, leather boots and artfully faded jeans. His light brown hair was cut in a windswept style that guaranteed that his forelock would fall rakishly over one dark eye. The hat he had tossed onto a brass hook in the hall was a suede and leather creation that looked as though it had been designed for adventuring in the Outback.

“You're looking terrific, Serenity love.” Without any warning, Lloyd swooped down on her, grabbed her around the waist and swung her in a wide arc. “Know something? I've missed you.”

“Please put me down, Lloyd.”

“It's so damn good to see you again, love. How's my fairy princess?”

“Put her down.” Caleb's voice was sharpened steel.

“Sure, sure, in a minute.” Lloyd tried to plant a kiss somewhere in the vicinity of Serenity's mouth. He chuckled when she ducked. “Serenity and I are old friends. Isn't that right, love? Haven't seen each other in months.”

“For heaven's sake, Lloyd, that's enough.” Serenity braced her hands against his shoulders and shoved. “Let me go before I get airsick.”

Lloyd roared with laughter and started to whirl her around in another circle.

Caleb's hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Put her down or you're going to swallow every tooth you own.”

Lloyd came to an abrupt halt and set Serenity on her feet. He turned to Caleb with a belligerent scowl. “Who's this, Serenity? Some guy who thinks he's your big brother?”

“No,” Caleb said very evenly. “I am not her brother.”

“He's my consultant,” Serenity said hastily. She reached up to refasten one of her hair clips which had come loose.

“Consultant?” Lloyd looked blank. He turned back to Serenity. “What kind of consultant?”

Serenity lifted her chin with grave dignity. “A business consultant. His name is Caleb Ventress. Caleb, this is Lloyd Radburn. He's a professor at Bullington College. I believe I mentioned him to you the other night when he phoned.”

“You mentioned him.” Caleb eyed Lloyd as if sizing him up for lunch.

Lloyd gave Serenity a disbelieving grin. “Hey, hey, hey, love. Who are you kidding? What the hell do you need with a business consultant? Having trouble counting beans down at the grocery store?”

“If you'll excuse me, I'm going to fix some tea.”

“Got any coffee?” Lloyd asked irrepressibly. “I hate tea.” He followed Serenity into the kitchen.

“Sorry, no. I don't drink coffee.”

“Yeah, that's right. I forgot. Guess I'll settle for tea.” Lloyd selected one of the small chairs at the table. He twirled it around, straddled it and rested his arms on the curved wooden back.

Caleb came to stand in the doorway. “Was there something specific you wanted, Radburn?”

Lloyd chuckled. “I just wanted to talk to Serenity.”

Serenity filled the teakettle. “If it's about that idiotic idea you had to do a study of Witt's End, forget it, Lloyd. I told you, I'm not going to help you do it.”

“Come on, hon. Give me a break.” Lloyd's easy-going grin faded. “I told you the other night on the phone, this is important to me. I can get a great paper out of this. Witt's End is pure time warp. The newest incarnation of the classic American frontier town.”

“Not quite,” Serenity said.

“Sure it is. What's more, it's a perfect subject for me,” Lloyd argued. “By rights this town shouldn't have been able to survive this long. Hell, it was founded by social misfits and outcasts and it's been populated with them ever since. You've got everything from ex-cultists to certifiable paranoids living here.”

“You are talking about my friends and family,” Serenity snapped. “Kindly watch your language.”

“Come on, love. You studied this kind of stuff once. You know what I'm talking about. The social dynamics of this place are fascinating. Based on my initial observations six months ago, I've created a theory. Now I want to test that theory.”

“What theory?”

“It has to do with the role of legends in small communities, especially small frontier communities. I think local myths are one of the forces that give the social structure substance and make the whole thing work. They unify a community. In a nutshell, my theory states that communities that don't have a few local myths have to invent them in order to survive.”

“Sounds interesting,” Serenity admitted.

“Sometimes the myths seem mundane, especially to outsiders,” Lloyd said. “Just gossip about the neighbors in many cases. Who's sleeping with who. In the old days some of the local legends of a frontier community probably revolved around gunslingers and gamblers and gold strikes. The point is, the community needs those tales in one form or another to help give it cohesion.”

Serenity nodded. “I see what you mean.”

“Look, I promise I'll tell you all about it later. The thing is, I need your help. I can't do good fieldwork here without you. You know I won't be able to get decent interviews or participant observer responses unless you convince the natives to cooperate.”

“Forget it,” Serenity said.

“I can't forget it.” Some of the upbeat tone went out of Lloyd's voice. It was replaced with grim determination. “I told you the other night, I need this project. I've got a lot riding on this, careerwise.”

“Choose some other small town,” Serenity said.

“But, Serenity love, Witt's End is unique. And as far as I can tell from the literature search that I did, no one else in the field has even discovered this place, let alone studied it.”

Caleb raised one brow. “I think the natives, as you call them, like it that way.”

“I'm not going to disturb their precious lifestyle,” Lloyd insisted. “Hell, that's the last thing I want to do. But I need to get into the social circle, so to speak. This place functions almost like a tribe, as far as I can tell. That's what gave me the idea about the importance of the local legends.”

Serenity glanced at him warily. “Just what local legends are you trying to analyze, Lloyd?”

“The one about the vision pools, or whatever you call them.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Serenity asked coolly.

“Come on, Serenity, don't play dumb with me. This is your old friend, Lloyd, remember?” He grinned. “You told me yourself about the hot springs that are hidden in a cave somewhere around here.”

“I may have mentioned them. It's no secret that there are hot springs in this part of the mountains,” Serenity said casually. “They've never been commercially developed, however. They're not easily accessible.”

“But they're the stuff of local mysticism and legend, aren't they?” Lloyd insisted. “People claim to see visions in them.”

“That's nonsense,” Serenity said firmly. “I don't know anyone who's ever seen a real vision in the hot springs.”

“Hell, I know that no one has ever seen a
real
vision.” Lloyd waved that aside. “There is no such thing. The point is, the myth about the pools exists, and that makes them a very interesting element in the local social dynamic.”

“Those pools don't have any impact at all on our social structure.” Serenity opened a cupboard and took out three mugs. “Lloyd, please try to get this through your thick skull. I'm not going to help you turn Witt's End into a research subject.”

“We can talk about it later,” Lloyd said easily. He slanted a glance at Caleb and then frowned intently at Serenity. “Tell me again why you need a business consultant? I didn't catch it the first time.”

“Probably because I didn't say.” Serenity poured hot water over the leaves in the pot. “I'm going to expand my grocery into a mail order business. I think it will be very good for Witt's End. A lot of people here in town have something to market but no practical way of reaching consumers except through craft fairs. When Witt's End by Mail gets going, they'll be able to sell their products through my catalog.”

“Are you serious?” Lloyd was clearly horrified. “You're going to expand Witt's End Grocery into a catalog operation?”

Serenity looked at him. “Yes. That's why I hired Caleb. He specializes in consulting start-up operations.”

“Shit.” Lloyd stared at her. “It's absolutely out of the question. You can't do it, Serenity.”

“I don't see why not,” Caleb said from the doorway. “I'm going to help her, and I'm very good at what I do.”

Lloyd threw him a disgusted glare. “She can't do it until I've finished my fieldwork here. Don't you understand? If Serenity introduces a major change into the local economy, it will significantly alter the existing social structure. All the basic institutions will change or be modified in some way. It's bound to happen.”

“So what?” Caleb said. “It's called progress.”

“So, I don't want anything changing here in Witt's End until I've finished my research,” Lloyd howled. “How far have these plans gone?”

“We're almost through the initial planning and product evaluation stages.” Caleb looked thoughtful. “I've selected the mailing lists. Catalog's going to press next month. I think you could say we're well on our way.”

“Christ, you've got to stop right now.” Lloyd shot to his feet and turned on Serenity. “You're going to ruin everything.”

Serenity finished pouring tea and leaned back against the counter. “Lloyd, let's get something straight here. I've got plans, and I don't intend to put them on hold so that you can study my hometown like a bug on a pin. It would take you weeks, maybe months, to do your interviews and observations. And that's assuming you'd get cooperation from the residents, which you won't.”

“I will if you help me,” Lloyd said quickly. “They'll listen to you, Serenity. You're the key. I realized that six months ago. If you ask them to cooperate with me, they'll do it.”

“But she isn't going to ask them to cooperate,” Caleb said. “Are you, Serenity?”

“Nope. I've got more important things to do.”

“Your mail order business project can't be more important than my research,” Lloyd shouted. “I've got a career riding on this.”

“And the financial security and well-being of a lot of people here in Witt's End is riding on my business plans,” Serenity retorted. “Go find some other town to study, Lloyd.”

“How can you act like this after all we meant to each other?”

Serenity eyed him, exasperated. “I think it's time for a reality check here, Lloyd. We weren't exactly close. You tried to turn me into one of your dippy research projects, and when I realized what you were doing, I told you to get lost. Now you've expanded your scope to include my entire hometown. I'm telling you the same thing now that I told you last time. Get lost.”

“Damn it, I'm going to do this study, Serenity.”

“Fine. Go ahead and do it. But don't expect me to help.”

“I don't believe it. You can't do this to me. I'm going to find a way to get this paper written.” Lloyd swung around on his heel and stalked toward the kitchen door.

Caleb politely got out of his way and stood watching impassively as Lloyd grabbed his Outback hat and slammed out of the cottage.

Serenity sipped her tea and listened to the car engine roar to life in the drive. She met Caleb's eyes. “Before we were so rudely interrupted, I believe you were saying something about going through Ambrose's files?”

“Yes, I believe I did bring up the idea.” Caleb walked over to the counter and picked up a mug of hot tea. “Care to come along?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. When?”

“Tonight. Late.”

“Why don't we just ask Jessie's permission to go through Ambrose's things at our leisure?”

“Because as far as I'm concerned, Jessie and everyone else in this town is a blackmail suspect until proven otherwise. But that's only one of the reasons why I don't want to tell anyone about our plans for another serious bout of breaking and entering.”

“There's another reason?”

“Yes.” Caleb looked at her, his eyes cold and intent. “Think about it logically, Serenity. If someone ever does conclude that Asterley's fall down those stairs was not an accident, guess who would instantly become one of the chief suspects?”

Serenity gave a start. Tea sloshed over the side of the cup, burning her fingers. “Me?”

“Yes. You.”

“Oh, my God. I hadn't thought of that.”

“You've got a prime motive. Asterley was trying to foil your plans to get rich in the mail order business.”

Serenity's eyes widened. “No one would ever believe that. Not for a single moment.”

“I'm not taking any chances. We're not telling anyone that we're going to search Asterley's files.”

Serenity dropped down onto the chair that Lloyd had just vacated. She realized she was trembling. “This is a bit above and beyond the call of duty, partner.”

“All part of the service, partner.” Caleb leaned against the counter and cradled his mug in his hands. “I'd like to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Did you tell Radburn that the legend about the vision pools was nonsense because you were trying to discourage him, or do you really think it is nonsense?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Serenity said. “Of course it's nonsense. Can you imagine any reasonable, intelligent person actually believing that it was possible to have visions in a hot springs pool? Get real.”

S
ERENITY FINALLY DECIDED TO SAY SOMETHING AFTER
Zone lost her grip on the sack of pinto beans and sent the contents skittering across the floor. It was the third minor accident Zone had had that morning.

“Zone, are you all right?”

“I'm fine.” Zone went behind the counter to fetch a broom. She didn't meet Serenity's questioning eyes. “Just a little clumsy for some reason.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“You seem a little tense,” Serenity said.

“I am not tense,” Zone snapped in a very un-Zonelike fashion. She wielded the broom with such force that she managed to knock a carton of rye crackers off a bottom shelf. Beans shot in a variety of directions. Most of them missed the dust bin.

Serenity thoughtfully studied her assistant. Zone had never lost her temper in the four months that she had worked at Witt's End Grocery. Something was very wrong, but good manners as defined in Witt's End inhibited Serenity from pushing the subject.

“All right,” Serenity said gently. “I didn't mean to pry. I think I'm the one who's tense. Maybe I'm projecting my mood onto you.”

Zone looked up from her sweeping. She searched Serenity's face. “Why are you tense?”

Serenity shuffled a stack of papers. “No particular reason. I was just thinking about all the stuff that I have to do before I can get this mail order business going.”

Like prowl through Ambrose's files in the dead of night
.

Like hope against hope that the man I love won't turn on me because I'm putting his family through a second generation of blackmail
.

Like wonder who among the people I know and trust here in Witt's End hates me
.

“It's going to work, Serenity. I know it is.”

“I hope so.” Serenity smiled briefly. “I thought you were the one predicting danger, turmoil, and confusion.”

“I was. I still am.” Zone folded both hands on the handle of the broom. The long orange-and-saffron-colored sleeves of her robe drifted down like giant wings. Her eyelashes and brows were a sharp contrast to her shaved head. “But I'm no longer certain of the cause. I assumed at first that it was associated with Caleb, but now I'm wondering if there's someone or something else involved.”

“Something else?”

Zone's eyes were troubled. “Serenity, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“No.”

“You've lived here all of your life. Do you believe in the vision pools?”

Serenity stared at her. Then she laughed. “You're the second person to ask me that this morning. Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you'd know more about visions than I would,” Serenity said easily. “I'm just an ordinary, run-of-the-mill shopkeeper. I'm not really into vortices of power and vision pools.”

“So you don't believe in them?”

“I'll tell you something, Zone, when I was a teenager I spent several nights in the caves, hoping against hope for a vision. I got nothing, not even a preview of what I'd be getting for my birthday. I tried the experiment once more a year ago, after a friend of mine named Stewart Bartlett left town. I was feeling alone and a little depressed at the time.”

“What happened?”

Serenity chuckled. “I guess you could call it a wrong number.”

“You actually saw something?”

“I dozed off and my imagination cooked up a little dream for me,” Serenity admitted. “But it made no sense. And it was kind of screwed up. It was just a dream.”

“You're sure?”

“Positive.” Serenity was very concerned now. “Something is wrong, isn't it, Zone? If you decide that you want to talk about it, you know you can trust me.”

“I know.” Zone clenched her fingers around the broom. “You've been very good to me, Serenity. I don't know what would have become of me if you hadn't given me this job. Four months ago I was truly at my wit's end.”

Serenity smiled. “It works both ways, you know. You're very important to me. You're the only person in Witt's End who has a firm grasp on the concept of regular working hours.”

“That's probably because I worked regular hours for years until I moved to Witt's End.”

Serenity glanced at the ring in Zone's nose. “Hard to imagine you in a conventional job.”

“Graphic design isn't exactly a conventional job. Still, I have to admit that I didn't wear a ring in my nose then. And I wore suits instead of these robes. And I was engaged to a stockbroker.”

“A stockbroker? I can't see you with a stockbroker. What happened?”

“I realized one day that I was unhappy. I went looking for something else. I started down my own, personal path to enlightenment. It led me here to Witt's End.”

“Well, I for one am grateful.”

“So am I.” Zone went back to sweeping beans. “I've been happy here. I've felt safe.”

“Safe?”

“Until this past week,” Zone whispered. Without any warning her face crumpled. She started to cry. She dropped the broom and gazed helplessly at Serenity through a veil of tears.

“
Zone
.” Serenity hurried out from behind the counter. She dashed down the aisle, put her arms around her assistant and hugged her close. “What's wrong?”

“I'm so scared, Serenity.” Zone wiped her eyes with the edge of one long saffron sleeve. “I don't know if I'm going out of my mind or if he's really here.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“My ex-fiancé.” Zone's shoulders shook as she leaned against Serenity. “I saw him last night. At least I think I did. He was outside my cabin staring in at me through the window.”

“What happened?”

“I screamed and pulled the curtains. Then I ran through the house checking all the locks. But nothing happened. There was no knock on the door. The phone didn't ring. I felt like a fool, but I spent the night huddled in the closet with the pistol I brought with me from L.A.”

“Good grief. How awful. You should have called someone.”

“I know it sounds stupid, but I was afraid to leave the closet until dawn. This morning I told myself I'd imagined everything. I made myself go outside. There was no sign of him. Not even a footprint under the window where I thought I saw him.”

“It rained last night,” Serenity reminded her.

“I know, but I started to wonder if I'd had another terrible vision. I was so careful when I left. He can't possibly know where I am.”

“Who?”

“Royce Kincaid. I was so frightened of him. Everyone thought he was such a wonderful catch. The perfect man, they all said. Handsome, successful, intelligent, well-mannered. Perfect. Too perfect. He's a monster, Serenity.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Zone nodded and wiped her eyes again. “It started right after I moved in with him, and it got worse very quickly. He wouldn't let me out of his sight except when I was at work. He accused me of having affairs. He got enraged if I went shopping with some of my friends. He wouldn't let anyone come to see me. I had no family to call, no one to help me.”

“What did you do?”

“I packed my bags one day and managed to escape. I went back to my old apartment. He showed up at the door and threatened to kill me. Told me I'd be sorry for leaving him. I believed him, so I ran.” Zone dashed tears from her eyes. “I've been running for nearly a year. When I found Witt's End, I thought everything would be all right.”

“But you saw him last night?”

“I thought it was him,” Zone whispered brokenly. “But now I'm not so certain. This is the second time it's happened.”

“When was the first time?”

“The night Ambrose died. I was meditating at the window, letting myself drift with the fog, really becoming one with it. There was a lot of fog that night.”

“I remember.”

“I thought I saw a glow of light in the mist. Then I could have sworn I saw the silhouette of a man moving through the trees in front of my cottage. I told myself it couldn't be Royce, but I knew it wasn't Blade, either. Something about the shape of him. He wasn't big enough.”

“Did you see his face?”

“No. He was all bundled up in a heavy, hooded coat. Before I could decide if I was imagining things, the glow disappeared and so did the man.”

“The glow could have been a flashlight reflecting off the fog.” An unpleasant chill uncurled within Serenity. “Why didn't you say anything the next day?”

“Because I wasn't even sure if I had actually seen anything.” Zone blinked back more tears. “I was in a trance. I thought maybe my imagination had run wild. Ariadne took me to see the vision pools a few weeks ago. She warned me that sometimes you don't always see what you want to see in them.”

“Did you have a vision in the caves?”

Zone shook her head quickly. “No. For some reason, I didn't want to even attempt to have a vision there. But this morning I started wondering if maybe the power of the pools extends beyond the caves.”

“I think I understand,” Serenity said quietly. “You're wondering if you had a pool-induced vision last night, is that it?”

“Maybe the lines of force from the hot springs affect this whole area,” Zone said hopefully. “Maybe one can have visions outside the caves.”

“No one,” Serenity stated categorically, “has ever reported having a vision outside the caves. And I, for one, am extremely skeptical about all tales of visions inside the caves.”

“You are?”

“Absolutely. That nonsense about the pools is nothing but an old myth that dates from the very first days of Witt's End. With no disrespect intended toward our illustrious founding fathers, I suspect that on occasion some of them smoked something other than tobacco in those caves.”

“If didn't have a vision, then there are only two other possible explanations.” Zone's voice was thin and listless. “The first is that I'm going crazy. The second is that I really did see Royce.”

“The third possibility is that you simply have an active imagination, which is only to be expected in a graphic artist,” Serenity said.

“I wish I knew what was happening to me.”

“One thing's for certain. You can't spend tonight alone. You'll be a nervous wreck.” Serenity was about to invite Zone to stay with her when she recalled the unorthodox plans Caleb had made for the evening. It would be difficult to explain to a houseguest why the hostess had to disappear for a couple of hours around midnight. “Let me think.”

“I've got the pistol,” Zone whispered. “I'll be all right.”

“Cold company. You need some human companionship tonight.” The door chimes sounded merrily. Serenity glanced toward the door as it opened.

“Serenity?” Ariadne called. “Where are you?”

“Aisle three. Crackers and dried fruit.” Serenity stepped into view, one arm still draped protectively around Zone's drooping shoulders. “I'm glad to see you, Ariadne. Zone, here, needs a favor.”

“Sure.” Ariadne smiled her earth mother smile. “What's up?”

By eleven-thirty that night, Caleb was having second thoughts about taking Serenity with him on the expedition to search Asterley's files.

He'd had such thoughts all day long, but there was no denying they seemed louder and considerably more forceful now that it was time to leave. He'd gone over the logistics of the thing a dozen times since this morning, and he still could not envision any serious risk.

It was highly unlikely that he and Serenity would be seen entering or leaving Asterley's cabin. The fog was back tonight. It would provide a welcome cover from prying eyes.

Welcome cover? Prying Eyes? Searching a dead man's files?

What the hell was going on here? Caleb wondered. Until recently he wasn't the kind of man who got involved in this sort of situation. He didn't accept small-time consulting projects involving tiny grocery stores, either. Nor did he sit around in hot tubs. Or spend the night in a cave. He didn't experience visions while gazing into hot springs pools. And he never, ever made love to women who were potential blackmail targets.

His whole life had been turned upside down lately. He didn't understand how it had happened, but he had a strong hunch that it was far too late to do a 180-degree turn and reverse course.

Furthermore, he had no particular desire to go back to his old life. Things were a little wacky at times in Witt's End, but for some reason he felt good here. He felt as if he had come to the right place.

Caleb reached for the flashlight on the shelf near Serenity's front door. He accidentally caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror. Automatically he started to look away and then he stopped. He could see himself quite clearly in the mirror. His reflection was sharp and clear.

“Caleb?” Serenity fastened her fringed and beaded jacket as she walked into the living room. “I'm ready.” She pulled the hood up over her wild, red mane. Got the flashlight?”

“I've got it.” He looked at her and knew for certain there was no going back to the man he had once been. “Let's do it.”

He opened the door and discovered cold for swirling on the front steps.

“It's not too bad yet,” Serenity observed as she stepped past him. “But I think it's going to get worse. We'd better hurry.”

“I don't want to use the flashlight if we can avoid it.” Caleb closed the door behind him.

“We won't need it. There's enough moonlight. Besides, I've lived here all my life, remember? I'd know my way around Witt's End blindfolded.”

“I'm certainly glad that one of us knows where we're going,” Caleb said under his breath. He pulled his collar up against the cold as he followed Serenity down the steps.

For some reason the night reminded him of one long ago, a night from his childhood. The memory of it came back with startling clarity. He had been eleven years old. His grandfather had awakened him to tell him that one of the mares was going to foal and there were complications. Caleb had scrambled out of bed, pulled on his jeans and a sweat shirt, and followed Roland out into the frigid, foggy night.

The mare had, indeed, experienced difficulties. Caleb was afraid that they would lose both her and the foal. But Roland had given calm, clear instructions, and Caleb followed them precisely. Together he and his grandfather had saved the mare and her tiny offspring.