by Lee Taylor
I tap his jaw and give him a seductive smile. "I heard Melbourne's a big party spot. Think we can go clubbing later this week?"
"Great idea. They have an open mic night at the Grungy Caterpillar tomorrow. It'll be good publicity for your concert."
He takes my hand and leads me into the hallway. I hate how handsome he is and how he's being so respectful after the shower incident by bringing flowers and not trying for a kiss--although I'm sure he's wooing me for ulterior reasons.
We walk down the grand staircase along the wall of water, passing a maid who steps aside and bows. Her name's Bumbie, the one who cleans my room, and she promised to ask the head gardener about his family for me. Cliff ignores her. I smile, but she lowers her gaze. I can't get used to servants bowing and scraping. It just doesn't feel right.
Cliff takes my finger and touches it on the water wall. "There's one in the CBD where you can tuck dried leaves to make a message."
"CBD?"
"Central Business District. Not far from the Grungy Caterpillar."
"What a name for a nightclub."
He laughs and traces my finger in the water, spelling, "I love you."
I'm rolling my eyes inside. I don't believe in insta-love. Lust definitely, but not love. Everything about Cliff seems phony. He's obviously decided the alpha he-man take-no-prisoner attitude wasn't getting him anywhere. I take his finger and write, "Where's my papa?"
He puffs his chest and points his thumbs at himself. "I'm your Papa. Gimme a kiss."
Okay, going back to dorky-ass again. I slap him playfully. "Not until I've found my father."
"Don't worry, you passed the DNA test, and I'm taking you to meet him." He swings me around and into his arms as if I weighed nothing and gallops down the stairs.
My father? Finally! I cling onto Cliff's broad shoulders, hardly able to catch my breath. "Slow down. I don't want to fall."
Another servant steps aside as Cliff barrels down the hallway swinging me in circles. My heart is doing loops, and the butterflies are swarming in my chest. I'm about to meet my father.
Cliff lets out a big whoop and sets me next to an intricately carved screen fronting a wooden structure that looks like a confessional booth. There's even a kneeling bench on one side of it, and it's recessed into the wall so it can be entered from the other side.
I nudge Cliff. "You've got to be kidding. My father's not a priest."
He flips out his phone and texts, but keeps turning so I can't see what he's thumbing. Finished, he tucks his phone in his pocket and takes my hands, pressing them to his chest. "He's on his way, but first, a kiss."
My hands are clammy, and my pulse skips. I'm about to meet my father, and Cliff is bugging me for a kiss? I dart one quickly onto his mouth and step to the kneeling bench. Cliff sticks his head in. "Have you been to confession lately?"
I yank the curtain to close him out, but he squeezes his bulk into the narrow space and his eyebrows shimmy. "Tell me about your impure thoughts."
I pinch his forearm lightly. "I was just starting to think you were nice. Are you sure my father's going to meet us here, or is this another one of your tactics?"
"Hmm . . . I know what you're thinking. Naughty, naughty." He tickles my waist. "Have you had sex inside a confessional?"
"Not since I left the convent," I deadpan.
Cliff's eyebrows take flight, and his mouth is quiet. Ha, ha, I've finally rendered him speechless.
A shuffling sound appears on the other side of the screen, and a man clears his throat and says, "Vera, my child."
My breath catches. It's my father's voice, maybe creakier than I remember, but it's him.
I reach for the screen. "Papa?"
"Iha, miss na miss kita." Daughter, I miss you so much.
"Papa? Is it really you?"
"Yes, but you can't tell anyone I'm here."
Too late for that. Zach already knows I'm looking for him. I tap the privacy screen. "Why can't I see you? How did you get here?"
"Cliff," my father says. "Leave me and my daughter alone. Go."
"But . . . she might get lost in the mansion."
"She'll be fine. Now go."
My pulse swishes behind my ears. So many emotions clash and war in my chest. I wipe cold sweat from my brow. "Papa, before you say anything else. Did you kill Lillian Spencer?"
There's a tight cough before he answers, "I did."
"No!" The bottom drops from my stomach. "No, Papa, why?"
"I don't know."
"You do. Tell me." I want to bolt from the booth and run, run, run, throw myself down the stairs or hide in a tunnel. "Why?"
"There was no reason." His voice is dry. "Now, tell me, Vera. How's your mother?"
I don't want to talk to him, tell him how he broke my mother's heart, her will to live, to love, and how she's finally started seeing someone, although remotely on the internet. I stand too fast and bump my head. A high pitch buzzes behind my ears, and I see dark patches alternating with flashes of light. My breathing is too shallow. I wobble out of the booth into a pair of strong arms.
Cliff signals me to be quiet and picks me up. He hurriedly takes me down a corridor and through a set of French doors into a garden with a sparkling mirrored fountain flanked by wicker lounge chairs.
"I heard what he said," Cliff whispers. "You can't let anyone know he's here on this estate or the police will send him back to America. We took a chance having you come, because he wanted to see you badly."
"Why? Is he sick, dying?" My heart is palpitating. I fan myself, feeling like I'm about to faint. "Why did he bring me here, and what about my mother? How come he didn't contact her?"
"He tried, but she wouldn't fall for it. Well, I mean, he didn't exactly say who he was."
Oh great! And I'm the stupid one.
"What do you want me to do?" I gulp and swallow to loosen my tight throat.
Cliff sweeps the hair from my face. "You can't let anyone know he's alive. You must tell Zach that this was a wild goose chase, that I took you here to elope. If you marry me, you'll have an excuse to live here and invite your mother over. Then we can bring your uncle and even your niece and be one big, happy family."
My throat is dry, and I'm gasping. It's too much information. They must have planned this for months. I knock my forehead on his collarbone. "This was a setup? You, Tito Louie, my father? Why?"
"To reunite the family," he says as if it's obvious. "You've been apart far too long, and when Rodrigo died, and then Rey, it broke your father's heart. He tracked you on the internet and wants to spend the rest of his days with you. He still loves your mother."
I'm feeling sick. "And you? Why would you want to be in our family?"
"Your beauty enthralls me." He clasps my hands to his chest. "I watched your YouTube videos and fell in love with you."
Something's not adding up. I doubt my father wants me to elope with Cliff. He doesn't look Filipino, and my father would have picked an older, more established man for me. My head aches, and I need to think straight. "Can you get me some water and an aspirin or Tylenol?"
Cliff squeezes my hand and pecks me on the cheek. I slump onto a chaise lounge as if I'm so overcome I'm about to keel over.
"I'll be right back," he says. To his credit, he looks genuinely worried right before he rushes through the French doors and into the mansion.
No one is around. I circle the fountain and sneak around the tree ferns and cycads to a grove of Australian willows across from the wine cellar. A flock of cockatoos screech as I pass below. I have to get away from here. I was so convinced my father was innocent that I believed all the phony text messages and postcards. Owen was right. I'm stirring up more trouble by coming here.
Leaving the cover of the willows, I stick close to a line of bushes and stop at the sound of clippers. The older Filipino gardener is busy trimming the hedges. He's medium height with wide shoulders. A wide-brimmed straw hat casts a shadow over the top half of his face, and he's chewing gum as if h
e hadn't a care, hadn't just confessed to murder.
A younger gardener is blowing leaves near the cellar. I approach the older man and tap on his arm.
He stops clipping and turns, wiping his sweaty forehead. I can't see his eyes because he's wearing dark glasses, but he looks vaguely familiar with that strong jawline my father had.
I say to him in Tagalog, "I've misplaced my cell phone. Did you happen to pick it up?"
He glances around and lowers the shears to his side. "No, miss. Where did you drop it?"
My shoulders sag. It's not my father's voice. But maybe he can still help me.
"Somewhere around here. I was jogging and lost it. Can I borrow yours? I have a date this evening I have to cancel because Mr. Ping wants me to sing for him."
At the mention of Mr. Ping, the gardener stands at attention and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. "Sure. When you're done, you can leave it on the lounge chair next to the fountain."
"Thanks. Oh, by the way, are you from California?"
He looks over his shoulder and shrugs. "I lived there a long time ago."
"Are any of the other workers from California? I have a fan named Rey, do you happen to know him?" I know this is so lame, but it's the only thing I can think of.
His lips tighten at the mention of my father's name, and he spits his gum into a tissue and tucks it in his pocket. "Nope, don't know him. Enjoy your phone call, okay?"
"Ah . . . yes." I gesture with his cell, figuring I can call the police if I need to. "Thanks. If you find mine, please give it to Bumbie. She cleans my room."
"Sure thing." He bows his head slightly and waits for me to leave before resuming his clipping.
I flip open the phone and scroll through his contacts. Nobody named Rey Custodio. But no matter. I've found my father and he admitted to the killing. There's nothing else for me to do but go home. Except I need to see Zach again before he finds out. Maybe he'll what? Still care about me? Or am I being stupid again?
I hurry toward the wine cellar. Several workers are examining a barrel. I walk with my head held high as if I know exactly where I'm going. They don't seem to notice me as I head for the stairs. I scramble down a flight and find the door ajar. Huge casks are lined up over a stone floor. It's dark when I move away from the door. I wake the cell phone to light my way and feel between the casks.
Footsteps sound near the entrance, and Cliff calls my name. Turning a corner, I miss a step. My knees scrape the floor, and I fall over a set of steel bars. The phone drops into the grate. Dang! I pull at the bars, but it doesn't budge. Feeling around the perimeter, I find a keyhole and a lever.
The footsteps come closer. I pat the wall around me and stand up. Ouch! My forehead hits the corner of a metal box. I pull it open, and slip my hand inside. There's a key ring with a single key.
The light from a flashlight zigzags closer.
"Are you sure she went this way?" Cliff asks.
"Yeah, pretty Chinagirl? She's down here somewhere," one of the workers reply.
I fumble with the key and flip the lever back. The latch unclicks. I lift the gate, cringing when it creaks, and slide through the opening. A metal ladder leads down a dark hole. The footsteps get closer, and the light swings right above me.
"I don't see her anywhere." I think it's Dex who says this.
"Maybe she went out the other way, toward the fermentation tanks," Cliff says.
I duck below a ledge, my feet touching something wet. A light shines down and Dex says, "Do you think she's down there?"
Another beam flickers, and I see the cell phone. I don't dare reach for it, but mark the spot in my mind.
"She wouldn't be so stupid," Cliff replies. "There are snakes and scorpions down there. Didn't your father board it up?"
"Yeah, we used to run out to the swimming hole when we first moved here, but Tatay put in a brick wall," Dex says and kicks dirt into the hole. "Did she meet Tatay? How did it go?"
"Didn't go well. Your father admitted to the murder, and she ran."
Wait. Cliff just said "your father" to Dex. Cold sweat dampens my forehead. That means Ben and Dex are my brothers and my father is Mr. Ping. Who the heck is their mother? Sheesh. Maybe I better not let Mama know he's still alive.
"We can't let her get away," Dex says. "Do you know what'll happen if she tells?"
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I'll find her. She can't get far."
Footsteps pace back and forth on top of the grate. "It's your fault, Cliff. You shouldn't have left her side."
"I said I'll find her," Cliff talks through what sounds like gritted teeth. His phone rings and he answers it. "Yeah? Felipe talked to her? Where? Let me call him."
Felipe must be the gardener.
I hear their footsteps depart. I scramble to the corner where I saw the phone and scoop it up. The ground is damp and squishy. I have no choice but to go deeper into the tunnel. I fumble with the phone and silence it just as it starts to vibrate, Cliff's name flashing on the screen.
The tunnel narrows, and I come to a brick wall. Trapped.
A missed call shows on the screen, followed by the voice mail icon. I shine the phone against the walls of the tunnel.
It vibrates again with a text message. "Where's the girl?"
Pfuh! He refers to me, his mi amor, as the girl? I shake my fist his direction.
I text back as the gardener. "She went back into the house."
"That's not what Benito says. He says you were talking to her and she went toward the cellar."
"Yes, she was looking for her cell phone, but I think she gave up and went to the pool house."
"Thanks."
"No problem." I slide the keyboard back in place.
Whew, that ought to buy me a few minutes. I poke around the brick wall. It's topped with a chain linked fence. The wall is solid, so I retrace my steps, before it occurs to me to call Zach.
The phone rings until it goes to voicemail.
"Zach, it's me, Vera. I'm in the tunnel, but it's blocked by a wall. Please come get me."
I can't afford to use Twitter or Facebook, so I try to browse to my email, but Felipe's phone doesn't have web browsing enabled.
I walk further back and shine the phone against the wall. There's a dripping sound coming from a pile of rubble. I dig around, moving rocks until my fingers are bloody and my back is sore. I need a drink of water, and my throat is achy and dry. If this were a movie, Zach, the hero, would break through the wall and save me. But it's quiet except for the underground water. A chill courses down my spine. Water, spiders, scorpions, snakes.
What's worse? Dying down here trapped in a nest of vipers and scorpions or pretending I'll marry Cliff and keep the family secret? I lean against the wall to rest. After a few moments, I try Zach again, but he doesn't answer.
I close my eyes, dizzy. Things are falling in place. If my father is Mr. Ping, he would have remarried to have Ben and Dex. He's not just a murderer but a bigamist. And Cliff? Cliff was nothing but a gold digger, because if my father's Mr. Ping I would inherit the winery and Cliff, as my husband, would share it. I punch the rock wall. Ouch.
Felipe's phone vibrates with an incoming call. I recognize Zach's number and pick it up.
"Zach?"
"Ma'am, we're Zach's friends." The voice on the other end has a heavy Aussie accent. "We got your message. Stay put and we'll get you out."
"There's a brick wall."
"No worries, there's a secret door behind the rubble pile."
"Where's Zach?"
"He can't come. It's too dangerous for him."
"Sure, okay. I'll look for the door and meet you."
"See you in a bit."
The call gives me hope, although I'm still thirsty and my stomach's growling. I dig around the rubble, too scared to poke my hand into the dark places. Following the sound of the water trickle, I step behind a tilted slab of concrete and discover a rusted door frame with empty hinges.
The cell phone dims, and I realize the
battery is low. I'll wait here. They'll find me. No need to go in there without a light. Exploring the concrete slab, I find a small area where I can sit off the ground. The sound of skittering feet raises goose bumps on my upper arms. Rats? Mice?
Where are the snakes when you need them?
Chapter 17
Footsteps clatter from a distance. I snap my head up and stare into the dark tunnel, expecting to see flashlights. The steps get louder, but there's no light. The gardener's cell phone is dead, so I leave it under the ledge.
A set of voices mumble from the direction of Mr. Ping's winery. Shuddering and trying not to think about creepy crawlies, I slip underneath the cold concrete slab and huddle on the damp ground. My dress is too short, and crouching leaves my thighs exposed.
"You should be safe here," Cliff says. "Felipe agreed to be you when the police show up."
"Make sure you transfer the money to the offshore account," my father's voice says.
They're getting closer. Two beams of light arch around the corner where I'm sitting. I scramble to tuck my feet in further. An insect crawls up my leg. I try to brush it away when my dress rips.
"Did you hear that?" Cliff says, followed by the click clack of a handgun cocking.
"Hold the gun down," my father says. "It's probably a rat."
Rats? I'm shaking and holding my breath to keep the scream in.
"You sure?" Cliff waves the flashlight around. His profile is outlined in my father's lantern, and he has a gun drawn. "What the?"
He points the beam down the shaft where two lights bob. My rescuers.
"Vera, is that you?" one of the rescuers yells.
I cringe and squeeze further into the tiny space.
Cliff shoots. The popping sounds vibrate into the tunnel. I can't believe my eyes, so I check again. He's holding the gun in his left hand.
"It's a trap," the man in the tunnel shouts. "The bitch tricked us."
Their lights turn the opposite direction. Cliff charges down the corridor. "Trespassers. Stay out."
My father coughs and sits on the ledge where I had been minutes before. His feet land right in front of my face, kicking dust into my nose. My eyes are watering, and my nose twitches. I shove my forearm into my face to muffle the sneeze. My father taps a stick under the ledge, probably to scare the rats.