Slice and Dice (32 page)

There were so many unanswered questions, Sophie’s mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions.

Before she could make sense of anything else, she had to find out what “Office 404” meant. And she had to find out now.

Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was nearly four-thirty. Maybe Nathan was back. Then again perhaps it would be smarter to talk to someone else first. Emily or Arthur might be able to give her the information she needed. That way, Nathan wouldn’t have to know she’d discovered the fax … just in case. It upset her terribly to think he might be involved in something so foul. She wondered if George’s first review of the Belmont had been bought and paid for, too. If so, then clearly someone at the academy wanted to put Harry Hongisto and the Belmont out of business. Paying a critic to destroy a restaurant was just about the sleaziest thing she’d ever heard. Not that all restaurant reviews or reviewers carried the same weight, but George had been the top man in town. People had listened to him, respected his opinion. He might not have been able to singlehandedly kill a restaurant, but he could have certainly pounded a few nails in its coffin, especially if it was already in trouble.

Sophie marched straight to the elevators and rode up to the tenth floor. She’d decided to speak to Arthur first. As he was the least involved party, she hoped he wouldn’t ask a lot of questions. She was about to knock when she heard shouts and then a chorus of angry voices coming from the suite. A second later the door flew open and Nathan burst out. He rushed past her without even acknowledging her presence.

An instant later Arthur exploded out of the doorway, red-faced and out of breath. “Nathan, come back here!” he shouted. “Please! We’ve got to talk.” He glanced back into the room, where Paul was reading the riot act to Constance. Arthur seemed torn, as if he didn’t know what to do next. Turning to Sophie, he said, “I can’t talk now.”

“But what’s wrong?”

Before he could answer, Emily and Kenny pushed past them into the hall. Tears mottled Emily’s face and her eyes were badly swollen. Kenny’s arm was around her shoulders. Together they walked silently toward their room. Inside the suite, Paul continued to shout at his mother. She was crying, too, begging for him to listen to her. The scene was utter pandemonium.

“If there’s anything I can do to help…” said Sophie, trying to catch what Paul was saying. She heard the name
Damontraville
and then the word
ruined,
both uttered at shattering decibels.

Arthur closed the door, then took a hold of Sophie’s arm. “Maybe there is something you can do. Go find Nathan. Get him to come back. Connie and I have to talk to him. It’s absolutely imperative.”

“Sure,” she said, still hesitating.

“Go! Now!” He looked desperate.

She turned and hurried to the elevator. Nathan must have gone either up to his room or down to the lobby. Betting on the lobby, she charged through the fire door into the stairwell and descended the steps as fast as she could. Waiting for an elevator in even the best hotels could take all day.

When she reached the main floor, she spotted Nathan all the way across the lobby. Before she could shout for him to stop, he’d disappeared out the front doors. She raced to catch up with him. Just as she made it to the street in front of the Maxfield, she saw him climb into a yellow cab.

As it pulled into traffic, she waved to the next taxi in line, a red and white, jumping up and down in her urgency to get it moving. “Follow that car,” she said to the driver as soon as she was safely inside.

“Excuse me?” he said, turning around to stare at her.

“That yellow cab. Up there.” She pointed. “Come on! I don’t want to lose them!”

There was a hint of disbelief in his eyes.

“Let’s go. Move it!”

He blinked a couple of times, then said, “You betcha, lady. Whatever you say.” He set the meter and they were off.

Sophie was glad that she’d dressed casually today. In the back pocket of her jeans was one of Bram’s old billfolds. That meant she had money and credit cards with her. If she’d had to race to her office to get her purse, she would have lost precious time.

They were now in hot pursuit of the yellow cab, heading east on 1-94. Sophie couldn’t imagine what had happened in Constance’s suite to upset everyone so. “Do you think the driver of that yellow taxi knows he’s being followed?”

The driver tipped his cap back. “I doubt it. You know, ma’am, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been in this business for over thirty years and I’ve never had anybody tell me to follow a car before.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You some sort of private eye?”

“Afraid not.”

“A jilted lover maybe?”

“Just a concerned friend.”

He nodded. “We don’t want to tip them off that we’re on their tail, so we’ll just cruise along back here for a while.”

“Good idea”

Half an hour later the yellow cab took the 95 cutoff through Bayport, heading straight for Stillwater. By now, Sophie had a good idea of where they were going. “When we come to country road 74, turn right.”

“What’s our destination?”

“Have you ever heard of New Fonteney?”

“The Cistercian monks? Sure, everyone around here’s heard of them. But I read the place was up for sale.”

“It is.” She watched out the front window, trying to judge how much farther they had to go. “There’s a back entrance to the monastery. Slow down and let the other cab get there first”

They took the last few bends in the road at a leisurely pace.

Sophie wished she had a sweater. The late afternoon had turned cool, and this close to the river there would be a breeze.

“Hey, you guessed it,” said the cab driver. “Thar she blows.”

The yellow cab had pulled off the road into the small clearing by the south gate, the same place where she and Nathan had parked on Monday.

“Pull up behind it.”

The driver brought the car to a slow stop but left the motor running.

“Stay here,” she said, wasting no rime climbing out of the backseat. “I don’t know how long this will take, but I want you to drive me back to St. Paul.” She pulled the billfold out of her back pocket and handed him two twenties.

“Noprob.”

Pushing her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans, she approached the yellow cab, her anxiety growing with each step. “Hi there,” she said to the driver, seeing that Nathan was nowhere around. “Where’s your passenger?”

The man took a bite of his sandwich, sizing her up. “Gone.”

“Gone where?”

He nodded to the gate. “Inside the monastery.”

“Is he coming back? Are you waiting for him?”

He popped some potato chips into his mouth. “Nah, I’m taking my dinner break. It’s a pretty spot. Thought I’d take advantage of it.”

“That’s nice,” she said, glancing worriedly toward the entrance.

“Hey, you a friend of his?”

“I am, yes.”

“He’s in pretty bad shape.”

“Really? Did he say anything?”

“Nah, but a couple times I looked back and saw him crying. Say, since you’re here, why don’t you take that crap he left.” He nodded to the backseat. “I’d have to turn it in to the office, file a bunch of papers, and I got no time for that.”

When she opened the door, she found a manila envelope. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He went back to his sandwich.

Sophie slipped a few of the typed pages out and studied them. They seemed to be part of an interview. Walking back to the red and white, she tossed it inside. “Remember, don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said the driver. “But this is going to cost you a bundle.”

She set off down the trail, realizing she had no idea where Nathan might be. If she shouted his name, would he hide from her or would he be glad to see her? Deciding not to take any chances, she followed die path through the woods to die main hall. As soon as she emerged into a clearing, she could see a light coming from inside die low, vine-covered building. She watched for a moment, hoping to locate him, but finally grew impatient and started down the hill.

The wind off the river ruffled her short blonde hair as she sprinted toward the hall. The fresh air felt good after being cooped up in an office all day, especially since it was that golden time of evening when all the greens and blues deepened and sunshine covered the world in honey.

Approaching the side entrance, she suddenly grew cautious. In the courtyard outside the main hall, she could hear someone retching. All her instincts told her to run to Nathan and help him. And yet how could she when she didn’t even know what was wrong?

She waited until the retching stopped, then crept to the edge of the building and peered around. Nathan, sitting on a long wooden bench, was in the process of opening a bottle of champagne. The scene made no sense. Why would a man who’d spent the last few minutes in physical and emotional agony be opening a bottle of bubbly? She watched silently from the shadows as he popped the cork, took a swig, rinsed the wine around in his mouth, and then spit it out. Tipping the bottie back, he drank a good half of it before he stopped and set it down on the ground. He looked terrible. His clothes were wrinkled. His eyes were all puffy and red.

Moving away from the building, she called his name.

He didn’t look up. “Go away,” he said in a low, thick voice.

“It’s Sophie.”

“I know who it is.” He took another swallow. “I want to be alone.”

“But are you all right?”

He dropped his head in his hands. “I can’t talk to you right now. Go home. Your husband’s waiting for you.”

She wasn’t about to let him chase her off that easily. “Your uncle wants you to come back to the Maxfield. He says he needs to talk to you. So does your mother.”

He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

She walked a few paces closer. “What happened? You look … awful.”

He looked up, watching her with his dark eyes. Ignoring her question, he finished the last of the champagne and tossed the bottle away. Then he leaned back, grabbed another from behind the bench, and began to peel off the foil. “I don’t want to be rude, Sophie. So just go away, okay?”

“Don’t you think you’d better slow down? Champagne can hit you like a ton of bricks.”

“I’ve already been hit with a ton of bricks. Notice, I’m still standing. Well, sitting, if you want to get technical, but I can stand.”

“At the rate you’re going, not for long. Nathan, what’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?”

He pressed a hand against one eye. “Just go. Please.”

He looked as if he might start crying again. “We used to be able to talk about anything.”

“The operative words are ‘used to.’ Times change. I’ve changed. I haven’t wanted to admit it, but so have you. Go on, Soph. Get away from me while you still can. I’m poison. My whole family is poison.”

“Why would you say such a thing?”

He stood and shouted, “Leave it alone, damn it! Get the hell out of here!”

The anger in his voice shocked her. Backing up, she said, “I won’t leave until I know you’re all right. That you won’t do anything foolish.”

“God, Sophie. Don’t you know me better than that? I’m not going to hurt myself. I like living way too much. That’s part of the problem.”

“I wish you’d talk to me. Maybe you’d even share some of that champagne.”

He looked down at the bottle in his hand. “That was the idea,” he whispered.

“Excuse me?” She hadn’t quite heard him.

“I promise I’ll talk to you tomorrow. But right now I’ve got to be alone.” He stared at her a moment longer, then turned and carried the bottie into the main hall, shutting the door behind him.

When Sophie finally returned to the cab, she found the driver leaning against the front fender, smoking a cigarette.

“Did you find him?” he asked.

She nodded. “Let’s go.”

He took one last puff, then dropped the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with the heel of his boot.

Sophie climbed into the rear seat and tipped her head back, closing her eyes. If Nathan wouldn’t talk to her, it seemed unlikely that anyone else in the Buckridge family would either. Something terrible had happened in Constance’s suite. She’d never seen Nathan so upset.

Remembering the manila envelope, she opened it and drew out its contents. As the driver pulled back onto the highway, she glanced at the heading on the first page:
INTERVIEW:
laurie lippert, elk river, minnesota, thursday may 13. That was today. Maybe this would shed some light on the current Buckridge family chaos. She settled back in the seat and began to read.

Journal Note