The Butterfly Conspiracy (8 page)

Chapter 8

Phillip poured glasses of wine for all.
 
He picked up a small rectangular package and handed it to Stephen.
 
“Stephen, I have a welcome gift for you.
 
I hope you enjoy it.”

Stephen was surprised and slightly embarrassed at all of the attention.
 

“You didn’t have to do that, Uncle Phillip.”
 
Stephen said, as he struggled to tear wrapping paper off a decorative wooden box.
 
Stephen opened the lid and saw a beautiful knife with a bone handle.
 
Engraved on the handle was “Cliffside Manor, 1975”.
 
He picked it up and admired it.

“Thank you, Uncle Philip.
 
It’s beautiful.”

“You’re very welcome, Stephen.
 
That knife was made in 1910 by the Marble Arms Company.
 
The company is located in the city of
Gladstone
, the first city we passed outside of Escanaba.
 

“I remember when we went by there.”
 
Stephen said.

Uncle Phillip nodded.
 

“The Company is known worldwide for their excellent craftsmanship of hunting and outdoor accessories. Their older knives are eagerly sought after as collector’s items.
 
Don’t lose your knife.
 
Put it in a special place.
 
I thought it would be fitting to give you a gift that was made here in the Upper Peninsula.”
 

Stephen balanced the knife in his hand.
 
“It’s a beauty, thank you again.”

With Phillip, Britt and Jeanette all in the same room, the talk soon turned to business matters.
 
Stephen wandered over to a shelf which held numerous plaques and awards for Uncle Phillip’s films.
 
He picked up a trophy for “Best Horror Script” for Attack of the Piltdown Man.
 

Stephen remembered in the movie the Piltdown man was something like a Neanderthal caveman brought back to life by a mad professor living in an isolated mansion deep in the moors of
England
.
 
The movie had scared him when he watched it as a kid.
 
Stephen set the trophy down and turned to his Uncle.

“Uncle Phillip, was there really a Piltdown man?”
 

“Yes and no,” Uncle Phillip replied.
 
“It was a famous hoax discovered as the archeological “missing link” in 1912.
 
It turned out to be fabricated.
 
Someone combined part of a human skull with an ape jaw.
 
Can you believe it took over forty years to discover it was not real?”

“Who did it?” Stephen asked.

“Even now they don’t know.
 
Some think a man named Charles Dawson but other names are mentioned.
 
Even Arthur Conan Doyle, the man who created Sherlock Holmes, has been mentioned.”

“I’ve read those.” Stephen interrupted.
 
“The Hound of the Baskervilles” is my favorite story.”

“Well, Stephen.
 
The Piltdown hoax proved to be a terrible embarrassment to many scientists, but it turned out to be the perfect story to base my movie on.
 
It was a great mixture of some truth combined with a lot of fiction.
 
Because of that movie, I’m considered to be the king of horror movies.”

“Such a tribute,” Britt laughed, tossed her hair back as she looked over at Stephen.

Phillip continued.
 
“Speaking of movies, Britt, I’m putting together a meeting with some people to finance my next movie.
 
I need to get back to
Los Angeles
in a few days to meet with them and I know they would be thrilled to meet you.
 
Would you come with me this time?”

Britt moved close to Phillip, gave him a kiss on the cheek and started rubbing his arm.

“Honey, you know I hate to go back there.
 
I hate the picture business and I hate leaving here even more.
 
Go and have your meeting without me. I’m sure they will understand.”

Phillip looked dejected.
 

“Think it over, Britt.
 
You’re turning into a recluse and you don’t even see
 
it.”
 

Phillip was visibly upset.
 
He put his drink down, turned around and marched out the door.

Chapter 9

Back in Grand View, Paulie glanced at his watch.
 
It was
three o’clock
.
 
He had driven up and down the few streets that made up the small town frantically searching for the Porsche that seemed to have disappeared in front of him.
 
He pulled the car over and jumped out.
 
He stretched, trying to get the kinks out of his broad shoulders and back.
 
He was stuffed into a subcompact, the only car available to rent without a reservation.
 
He felt like one of those big circus clowns driving around in a kiddy car.

Paulie noticed the building across the street contained a hardware store and a café.
 
Just seeing the café sign reminded him he was hungry.
 
He decided to take a break and get something to eat. Paulie walked across the street.
 
As he was walking up to the restaurant, Paulie noticed a silver spotted skipper hovering above some flowers.
 
He made a mental note to add some butterflies from this area to his collection.

As Paulie opened the door, he got the feeling that everyone in the restaurant had turned around to stare at him.
 
He was still in the same rumpled suit he had put on in
New York City
.
 
Everyone in the restaurant was either sporting a touristy shorts and sandal look, or was wearing what appeared to be the local fashion statement, a flannel shirt, jeans and work boots.
 
Paulie sat down at a table for two.
 
A waitress approached.
 

Without bothering to look at the menu, Paulie said,”Give me pastrami on rye with yellow mustard and a cup of black coffee.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” the waitress replied. “We don’t have any pastrami.
 
Would you be interested in our luncheon special, the fresh lake perch plate?”

“No pastrami?” Paulie questioned.
 
“What kinda deli is this?”

“This isn’t a deli, Mister” the waitress replied, “It’s the Grand View Café.
 
Would you like a minute to take a look at our menu?”

Paulie grabbed the menu from the waitress’s hand and slammed it open.
 
Heads turned. His eyes ran down the menu…smelt, pasties, rutabaga, what the hell is this?
 
Paulie let out a sigh.
 
This job was looking more discouraging as the day progressed. Already he had lost track of the damn kid, he was in a town of four hundred people, surrounded by woods in every direction, and now he was sitting in a restaurant where he had never even heard of half of the selections on the menu.

As the waitress walked to another table, Paulie shouted after her, “Just gimme a patty melt, fries and a cup of black coffee.”
 

Waiting for his meal, Paulie glanced around the restaurant.
 
The wood was knotty pine.
 
Stuffed fish were displayed on every wall, each with a small price tag hanging from their tail.
 
 
Through the large picture window in the front, he could see a huge expanse of water with an island about a half mile off shore.
 

Paulie wolfed down his lunch and got up to pay at the register.
 
The same waitress took his money and rang him up. As Paulie grabbed his change, he had a thought.

“Who’s the guy around here who drives that fancy silver Porsche?”
      
 

 
“You mean Mr. Kahle?”
 

Paulie leaned over the counter, “Yeah, that guy.
 
Where could I find this Mr. Kahle?”

Immediately the waitress stiffened.
 
“I’m not sure.
 
I think he moved.”
 

Paulie knew she was lying.

“Really, he moved did he?”
 

Paulie understood the waitress had spoken too quickly and from the look on her face, he knew she would not be providing him any more information.
 
He walked out the door towards his car.
 
Again, Paulie had a feeling that everyone was watching as he squeezed himself back into the tiny rental car.
 
He looked back at the restaurant.
 
Sure enough, several locals had walked over to the picture window and were staring at him.
 
His first reaction was to flip them off, but he thought better of it.
 
He started the car and headed out of town in the direction a billboard had indicated Cabins, 1 mile.
 

Paulie pulled up to a rustic motel and booked a room.
 
The motel consisted of twelve small cabins set in a semi- circle connected by a common gravel driveway. He found his room, unpacked his suits and took a long hot shower.
 
Paulie was standing in his underwear, drying off when he remembered to call and check in with Al.