Part 2 (2/2)

We stood looking at the impenetrable garden in back of the house. ”Do you want to push through that?” I asked him.

”As there's no particular urgency, perhaps we ought to play the Livingstone-in-blackest-Africa role when we've had a chance to don thorn-proof outer garments.”

”And snake-proof boots,” I added. As we turned back towards the front, I shook my head in disgust. ”The garden must have received some rudimentary attention, but it doesn't appear as if anyone has been inside the house for years. I thought there was an arrangement to keep the place up.”

”I'd have thought it desirable, from a property manager's point of view. Undoubtedly your Mr Norbert will know why.”

”He's got some explaining to do; no house should be allowed to get into this condition. It's a wonder the neighbours haven't complained.”

”Perhaps they have,” Holmes commented-but not, as I first thought, about the shocking condition of the paint. A motorcar had pulled up in front of the gate, and now I heard two doors slam shut as a pair of powerful torches probed the drive.

”You there,” shouted a voice whose tones would carry the same authority the world around. ”Come out here at once.”

”The constabulary have arrived,” Holmes said unnecessarily, and together we moved to obey the command.

Our dress, our demeanour, and our accents soon had the torch-light diverted from our faces into a kinder illumination, and our claim to be the house's concerned but keyless owners was not instantly discounted. One of the policemen even came up with an orange crate from somewhere, so I could climb with dignity back over the fence. The last shred of suspicion fluttered away after we had been taken to the hotel and been recognised by the doorman. We thanked the two policemen for their concern over the property, and then I put to them the question that Holmes had raised mere moments before they had arrived.

”Before you go, may I ask? Which of the neighbours reported our presence? I'd like to thank them for their concern, don't you know.”

The two burly men looked at each other; the older one shrugged. ”It's the old dame across the street. She's kinda taken the house under her wing-'phones the station every so often to have us chase kids out before they can get into mischief.”

”I do understand. Sleepless old lady with nothing better to do. She'll be disappointed we weren't stealing the doork.n.o.bs.”

The two laughed and took their bulky blue selves away. Holmes and I made for the dining room, for our long-delayed meal. As we pa.s.sed through the ornate foyer, it occurred to me that it was no longer necessary to search out a looking-gla.s.s to straighten hair mussed by the hours out-of-doors. A benefit of my new, if inadvertent, hair-style-Holmes loathed it, but I was not altogether certain that I did.

To our surprise, we were offered-quietly-wine with our dinner. It was local, but unexpectedly good, and although my appet.i.te had yet to return, Holmes consumed his meal with approval. After our coffee, we went back outside for a turn under the lamps of Union Square.

”Holmes, I take it you followed me all this afternoon.”

He was expecting the question, or rather, the question behind it, because he answered without hesitation. ”I am concerned about the effect that coming to this place is having on you, yes.”

My hand slipped away from his arm. ”You were worried about me?”

”Not worried, simply curious to see where you would go. I thought it possible that, as one of your beloved psychological types might say, your sub-conscious would direct your steps.”

”Indeed.” A few more paces, and my hand went back through his arm. ”Holmes, I honestly don't know what to make of it. I remember this city, and yet I do not. Before I found the house, I'd have sworn I didn't even know what part of the city it was in. How can that be?”

”I believe,” he said after a moment, ”that the process of discovering your ties to the place is one of the reasons we are here.”

We finished our walk in silence, and went up to our rooms. The bed was soft and had the novelty of standing on an unmoving floor, and to my surprise and relief, the night pa.s.sed in blessed dreamlessness.

I was at Mr Norbert's offices at the appointed hour dressed in one of my new frocks, my silk-wrapped legs taking note of the current length of hem-line. Between the Cuban heels and the curl of hair that barely touched my ears, I resembled a person who cared about fas.h.i.+on.

Norbert welcomed me into an office that would have satisfied the stuffiest of London solicitors, all dark wood and leather. It was his office, for this man, despite being scarcely ten years older than I, was now the senior partner in the august firm that had served my father in life and after. The elder Norbert and his contemporary partner had both succ.u.mbed in the influenza epidemic of 1919, leaving the son of one and a twenty-year-old grandson of the other in charge. Norbert had done his best to fill the impressive surroundings, but I thought that even now he was slightly intimidated, and would have been more comfortable among lighter, more modern furnis.h.i.+ngs.

Still, my London solicitors had never voiced a complaint about his handling of my California affairs, and I knew them to be scrupulous: The senior partner of that firm had been in love (secretly, he thought) with my mother, and had transferred his loyalty wholeheartedly to her daughter.

I settled into my chair, accepted the compulsory cup of weak American coffee, and made meaningless small talk for precisely three and a half minutes before Norbert eased us into business matters.

My California representatives had long been pleading that I apply my attentions to the holdings I had inherited in the state; having seen the house, I could only pray my other possessions were not as derelict. However, it soon appeared that the need for my presence was more for the sake of long-term decisions, re-investments and liquidations that I alone could make. What most of them boiled down to was, if I wasn't going to take an active role in the running of this factory, that company, and the other investment, I should sell my interests and move on.

Which was just what I had in mind.

We set up a number of appointments for the coming days so I could meet with my managers and directors. Looking at the brief synopses of figures Norbert laid before me, one after another, I had to agree: Electrical companies and copper mines did not run themselves for too long before they began to suffer from inattention, and thousands of acres of land adjacent to the recently discovered oil fields in southern California weren't going to join the boom without some help.

At the end of a long morning, Norbert pushed back in his chair with a sigh and stood. ”Time for another cup of coffee,” he p.r.o.nounced, and went out of the door. I heard him speaking with his secretary for a moment, heard too the flush of distant waters a minute later. He returned with the secretary on his heels.

He poured the watery brown liquid, offered cream, sugar, and biscuits, then settled for a carefully measured five minutes of closing conversation. I broke it after one.

”Mr Norbert, I have to say you've done wonders with the entire estate. It couldn't have been easy, at this distance.” I laid my spoon into the bone-china saucer. ”However, that makes it all the more puzzling that the house has been allowed to go to ruin.” I told him the outline of our adventures the previous evening, and he produced little noises of distress at our meeting with the police. I ended by repeating my comment about the state of the house, which observation he met with a sympathetic shake of the head.

”Terrible, isn't it?” he agreed, looking not in the least shame-faced. ”Such a pity. But I hadn't much of a choice, really; the will was very clear on that.”

”The will,” I repeated.

”Yes, your father's will. Parents', I should say. Don't tell me you haven't seen it?”

”When I was fourteen, I must have done. Not since then.”

”Oh, my, no wonder you're a little confused. And here I was hoping you you might enlighten might enlighten me me on the matter. Hold on just a sec.” He reached forward to toggle a switch on his desk-telephone, and said into the instrument, ”Miss Rand, would you please bring me a copy of the Russell will?” on the matter. Hold on just a sec.” He reached forward to toggle a switch on his desk-telephone, and said into the instrument, ”Miss Rand, would you please bring me a copy of the Russell will?”

Miss Rand duly appeared with the bound doc.u.ment, handing it to Norbert, who pa.s.sed it over to me. He sat back while I undid the ties and settled in to read it.

It proved to be one of the odder such that I had ever read. I went through the doc.u.ment closely, wondering why I had not seen it before-I was certain that it had not been among the stack of papers I had gone through when I had taken over my father's estate at the age of twenty-one. My eyes lingered on the two signatures at the bottom, my father's strong and unruly, my mother's neat as copperplate, and then went back to an earlier page.

”What does this mean, 'to ensure that no one unaccompanied by a member of the immediate family be granted access to the house for a period of twenty years after the date of this signing'?”

”Just that. It's actually quite straightforward, as these things go: If your father died, your mother inherited. If they both died, as sadly happened, you and your brother would inherit the house, however, no one else other than you, your spouses, and your children would be allowed to set foot in it except in your presence for twenty years after the-what was the date of signing?-yes, the fifth of June, 1906. It goes on to say that the house is exempt from the remainder of the disburs.e.m.e.nts until, as I said, the fifth of June, 1926-a little over two years from now. Now you're here, you and your husband are welcome to do what you like to the house. Except permit others inside without your being physically present, or to sell it before the given date.”

”But why?”

”My father, who of course drew up this will, did not see fit to tell me the reasoning behind its details before he died,” he replied, with the bemused att.i.tude of one who had himself written so many odd wills that he no longer questioned them. ”However, the requirement of the codicil is crystal clear, although it leaves to the discretion of this legal firm the means of ensuring that the house remain undisturbed. Within days of your father's unfortunate demise, my father, as head of the firm, arranged for a single lady relative of his to take the house across the street, Agatha Grimly is her name-she's my great step-cousin or something of the sort. Miss Grimly was later joined by her unmarried nephew. She was a schoolteacher most of her life, so she's got eyes in the back of her head. The nephew is a little dim-witted, but quite clear as to his job. They receive a bonus each time they run strangers off the property, which happens two or three times a year-the first time was within a few days of her taking over, the most recent-apart from last night's, of course-was a couple of months ago. And they live under the threat of losing their comfortable position were they to let an intruder slip past them. Frankly, it's a little game we play-I occasionally hire someone to try to break in, to see if he can get by them. They probably a.s.sumed you and your husband were such.”

I supposed it was sometimes necessary that a solicitor not be too curious about his client's purposes. Clearly, my father had intended that no one get into that house but family. The why of that intent did not enter into Norbert's realm, merely the how. I gave a mental shrug and closed up the will.

”You may keep that, if you like,” he said. ”I have two other copies, one of those in a vault down the Peninsula. The lessons of 1906,” he explained with a grimace. ”We're still struggling with the consequences of City Hall burning.”

He then reached into his desk's central drawer and drew out a lumpy, palm-sized brown-paper envelope, its flap glued down and signed across by my father's distinctive hand. Its contents gave off a slight metallic tick as he laid it onto the glossy wood of the desk.

”If you need a.s.sistance with cleaning ladies,” he went on, ”gardening services, anything, I hope you'll call on me. We do have a gardener come in once a year, to keep the front from becoming an offence to the neighbours-although as that is questionable under the will, I go down and stand watch while they work, always, to ensure that none of them approach the house itself. In the same way, my father supervised the cleaners who came in the week after the accident, when it became apparent that you . . . that the house would have to be closed up. He was never absolutely certain, because strictly speaking the codicil indicated that he should have allowed the milk in the ice-box to go bad and the moths to get into the carpets, but he decided that protecting the client's a.s.sets allowed for a degree of flexibility. He may even have consulted with a judge on the matter, I don't remember. However, that is neither here nor there. I'll 'phone Miss Grimly, and let her know that you're coming-wouldn't want you to be arrested again.”

I stood up, tucking the folder under my left arm and putting out my right hand.

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