The Love I Lost (Ariadne Silver Romance Mystery #2)

by Morris Fenris

  It was Eugenia!

  III

  Suddenly, the vision loses focus and the room started swirling about her. Ariadne was confused. She still held the piece of paper. Looking down, she could not believe her eyes. It was her Eugenia, now a grown young woman in a white gown.

  Almost suddenly, the whole room shifted. The walls fell away and she could only look at the ceiling. Nearby, she could smell the acrid carpet. She tried to move, stand up. But, breathing became more and more difficult. Her left arm throbbed until she couldn’t move it.

  Every second felt like a lifetime. And it took Ariadne a few to realize what was happening.

  With her right hand, she blindly thrashed around for her phone. Trying not to panic at not finding one nearby, she tried to concentrate all her energy in focusing on the view around. She needed to find the damn phone! It was just a few feet away.

  Dragging her unresponsive body towards it, Ariadne finally reached her phone after a minute. She immediately dialed 911. “Hel…”

  ***

  White lights blinded her when she next gained conscious. It was still hard to breathe or move. Her vision was still out of focus. But she could hear someone next to her talking. She tried to concentrate on the moving lips. It kept making the same movement again and again.

  “…attack. You’ve had a heart attack, madam. We are taking you to the hospital now.”

  Her heart immediately beat with greater urgency, holding on to life in the face of death’s threat. The EMT noticed her widened eye and faster heart beats.

  “Please do not panic, ma’am. You are alright now. We are going to take care of you. Please calm down. Do not exert your heart by panicking further.”

  A heart attack at my age? That’s impossible, she tells herself. She tries to move her arms—she can’t.

  Looking at the EMT, her eyes try to convey some urgent message. “What is it, ma’am? Please do not try to move.”

  But Ariadne remained stubborn, trying to move her lips through the oxygen mask. The EMT gave up. He finally raised her mask and brought his ears closer to her mouth.

  “Lucien…” He couldn’t fathom what she said.

  “Lucieennn…” she said a tad louder.

  “Is that someone you wish to contact, ma’am? Lucien?”

  She nodded subtly, with relief spreading through her heart like a drug. That’s all the energy she had.

  IV

  It took the ambulance about 25 minutes to reach St. Louisa’s Hospital. The cardiologist was informed about the trauma patient, well in advance. Dr. Houston was ready—he’d cleared off his other work, checked on patients and booked an operation theatre just in case. Thankfully, it was a comparatively quiet day.

  As they wheeled her in, the EMT nurse gave him a low down of the case. “White female, 30s. Mild heart attack. Heartbeat, blood pressure fairly stabilized now. Reason unknown. No external injuries, though you may want to check for any internal hemorrhage or concussion—she collapsed on the floor. Asked to inform someone called Lucien.”

  “Thanks, John. I’ll take it from here.”

  He continued to wheel her to the emergency trauma section; it was the closest to the entrance. He needed to check any bleeding or heart defects. She had stabilized now, but unless the cause was fixed, she was susceptible to another attack, probably a larger one. It is the second attacks that are fatal.

  While the nurses shifted her to the ward bed, Houston noticed her hand clasped tight over a piece of paper. He tried to pry open her hand, and take the paper from her palm.

  It was badly rumpled, but he could make out that it was a post card—a photo on the front, and message at the back. Old school.

  The woman in the photograph looked very familiar. He turned it back and read the note. He couldn’t place it. Keeping it aside, he treated his patient—that was his first priority. A few hours and tests later, he concluded there was no immediate threat to her heart, which was functioning normally now. It must have been an external emotional stimuli, he rationalized. The clue was in the photograph.

  He went back to his office and looked at the photograph closely. Eugenia Valier! She had been a patient briefly in the hospital a few years back. She had suffered a minor fall, and her prosthetics needed to be attached again. He had been just a resident doctor back then, and had crossed her room during his rotations.

  Boy, did she look different in the photograph!

  But something was out of place. That had been the last time she came to the hospital, which was unlike such crippled patients. They needed their prosthetic leg fitted regularly.

  He searched for the Valiers on the internet. Eugenia Valier disappeared about three-and-half years back! It was kept all hush-hush, with the police refusing to comment adamantly.

  He looked at the picture again. Clearly she was married now, and maybe that was the reason for Ariadne Silver’s heart attack.

  Houston bit his lip. It was not policy to get the police involved in their patient’s conditions. But something told him they needed to be informed about this picture with Eugenia Valier and her new husband. Should I dial 911 or ask for a specific detective?

  He searched online again and found the name of the detective in charge—Larry Hartfield.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Larry Hatfield? I am calling from St Louisa’s Hospital. I have some information about the Eugenia Valier kidnapping case.”

  V

  It had been a busy day for Larry. He had just been handed a media-coveted case. Swamped with calls, Larry was beyond irritated. Every few minutes his phone would ring requesting some additional detail, comment, byte or some such. Alternatively, people called to give false leads, hoping for 10-second fame.

  Eventually, he just kept the phone ringing, giving strict instructions to his colleagues and team to call him on his partner’s phone in case of some information. This way, he knew the calls were unimportant.

  He was just about to leave to interview a promising lead when the phone rang again. He decided to let it pass too.

  ***

  “Sorry, wrong number,” an irate voice answered on the other end.

  Dr. Houston was momentarily stumped. Clearly, the number on the public directory was a wrong number. He was hesitant. Should he drop it here or pursue the matter?

  He decided to give it one last shot. Dialing 911, he waited for the response. “Hi, I am Dr. Houston from St. Louisa Hospital. I’ve been trying to reach through to Detective Larry Hartfield. It’s about a case of his. I have some information for him.”

  This was not the first such call that day. The lady who picked the call tried to not show her irritation. “Sure. Can you give me the information? I will pass it off to him.”

  “Eugenia Valier has married. She is alive. Her mother, Ariadne, is in the hospital suffering from heart attack.”

  For Rose, the information and the names sounded gibberish. But she duly noted it down along with the rest of trash information. She did not want to be the one to be caught avoiding official processes.

  By the end of the day, the stash of notes was about a foot tall. It did not do anything to help Larry’s temper. The day’s lead too had gone nowhere. He was stuck at a dead end.

  He had no other option but to go through the whole stack and take notes for possible leads. The best note, however, came towards the end of the bunch.

  ***

  It was eight in the night, almost the end of Dr. Houston’s shift. The whole day he hoped someone from the police, or better yet, Detective Larry Hartfield himself would have come to visit him or his patient. No one arrived. No one reached out to Houston. He decided to let it go—maybe it was not unknown information. After all, the details of the case were pretty hush-hush.

  Just as he walked out of the hospital’s glass doors, someone bumped into him in a hurry, making him drop his briefcase on his toe. Irritated by his less-successful-than-expected day and the pain, he turned back to glare at the new entrant.

  “I’m
sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry. Has Dr. Houston left? I am here to meet him and his patient. He dropped me a message earlier this day.”

  Houston stopped mid-stride.

  “He just walked out the door, sir,” he heard the receptionist answer. Larry groaned. Nothing seemed to be going well for him that day.

  “Larry Hartfield?” someone tapped on his shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “I am Dr. Houston. You bumped into me at the door and I overheard you asking for me. I’d hoped you’d come in today.”

  “Thank God! I got the message quite late and came running as soon as possible. I thought I’d missed you. Can we speak about your information?”

  “Yes, of course. Please follow me. My cabin is a better place for the chat.”

  Back in the cabin, Houston opened his drawer and took out the crumbled card. Handing it over to Larry, he said, “As I’d said, Ms. Ariadne suffered a mild heart attack this afternoon. I noticed this paper clenched in her palm. It took me a while to recognize the girl in the picture. But as soon as I did, I called you.”

  “Thank you for the prompt action. This is the only information we’ve had in all these years. It’s frustrating when a case goes cold. How’s Alice, I mean, Ariadne now?”

  “She’s stabilized. We have given her a lot of sedatives. She needs the rest. Her body would have really weakened by the attack. She had the presence of mind to call 911 on time. Or the damage would have been greater.”

  “Always the smart one, that woman!” Larry exclaimed. “So when is she expected to gain consciousness?”

  “Tomorrow, I guess. As her doctor, I would recommend you not exerting her by asking many questions. It could very well trigger another attack.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, doctor. Thank you.”

  “If that’s all, detective, can I take your leave? It’s been one long day.”

  “Talk about a long day! I shall come back tomorrow.”

  ***

  At 12 noon sharp, Larry walked in again. This time, he directly went to Ariadne’s room and waited for her to wake. The moment she started stirring, he called the nurse in for a checkup. When she was finally settled in a seating position, and seemed fairly out of the effects of sedation, he walked in her line of sight, smiled and sat down.

  “Hi Alice! Up for a chat?”

  “Hey Larry. How come you’re here? Er… how long have you been waiting?” she croaked, her mouth parched from the continuous sleep.

  “Not for long. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’ve called Lucien, dear. He left his phone number with me when he left for France… you know, just in case we found something about Eugenia. He may be on his way as we speak.”

  “Thank you,” Ariadne was grateful. She really wanted her husband by her side.

  “Also, your doctor handed over Eugenia’s photo to us. You were clenching it in your hand during the attack. We are looking into her whereabouts based on the photo.”

  “Okay, Larry. Thank you.”

  VI

  Lucien took the first flight available for the US. It was a fairly long flight, and he couldn’t wait to get back.

  When Larry called him, he didn’t know what to expect—good news or bad news. It turned out to be a bit of both. Part of him was relieved for Eugenia, part of him felt betrayed that she really did leave her papa for another man. He was also worried for Ariadne. A heart attack at this age! She must have really been under great duress. Partially, he blamed himself for it—if he had not left, she would have had more support. She would not have had to carry such burden alone.

  “I broke my promise to be by her side through good and bad times,” he thought to himself. “I’ll make up for it now. I won’t betray or leave her ever again, no matter how tough times got.”

  He tried to get some sleep during the flight, but only managed to take a one hour nap. He was looking forward to meeting his wife after so long.

  ***

  Every time the door opened, Ariadne’s heart leapt. She wanted Lucien really badly. She also hoped Eugenia would walk in through the door. If she had made contact after so many years, there was a great chance she could finally come to meet them too.

  Larry came to meet every evening, giving her any updates about her daughter’s location. So far, they had come up with no detail. The guy—her husband—did not seem to be on any public record. But then, image search software were also painfully slow, and going through a whole country’s database was not a simple task. It often took days or weeks to come up with a decent lead. Plus the fact that people changed their looks over time.

  Larry’s team also showed the photographs to people in Ajo, hoping to spark a memory or some lead. Nothing had turned up as of yet.

  Ariadne listened to all that. Deep in her heart, though, her first thought was that of gratitude—Eugenia seemed safe and happy. She smiled every time she remembered the happy smile.

  And now, all she wanted was to see Lucien’s smile. She hoped he had it in his heart to forgive Eugenia.

  She kept passing in and out of sleep. Finally, in the evening, when she opened her eyes, she stared into Lucien’s twinkling beads.

  “Lucien! Oh my god! I am so so happy,” Ariadne cried out, tears welling in her eyes.

  “Oh don’t cry, mon ami. Of course I would be here. I am not going to leave you anywhere, I promise.”

  Book Samples

  http://www.amazon.com/Romance-Grandmother-Novella-Mystery-Suspense-ebook/dp/B016GFXXH4

  Sample from The Love I Never Knew, Book 1 of the Ariadne Silver Romance Mystery Series

  Chapter 1

  I

  It sounds like a fairy tale when you say it. It is definitely, not your run-of-the-mill fairy tale, but a dystopian modern world version of it. When you say it, it sounds like material for an award winning film script if executed meticulously. Ariadne Silver was born in a family of hate and perpetual misery. She naturally had no idea about the conditions of her birth. Her parents did not plan to start a family with Ariadne. They were simply inebriated one night and found the urges of physical attachment overwhelming. Their intoxication was so intense that they completely forgot about protection during or after the sex. The only time Ariadne ever felt at peace was when she was in her mother’s womb, though the peace was merely an illusion. Her mother did not even realize till it was too late that she was pregnant. The parents had a fist fight the day she was compelled to tell her husband of the pregnancy. The father accused her of being a whore who was disloyal to him and simply refused to acknowledge the pregnancy. Moreover, they were in no financial condition to raise a child. Whatever the parents earned was mostly spent on alcohol and heroin. It was a miracle that Ariadne saw the light of day even with her mother poisoning the bloodstream during the course of her pregnancy. Ariadne survived even before she knew what survival meant. She grew up in a wrong Wonderland and often wondered if what she saw was real. She couldn’t believe that her mother was dead even after she saw her unattended corpse, smothered in vomit. To a seven year old girl, “death by overdose” didn’t really make much sense. Ariadne Silver was forced to believe that her mother had gone over to a happy place. The memories of her mother were bittersweet. Ariadne felt she was a nice lady. Her mother mostly left her to herself. She was not a very good cook. Her meat was often undercooked. Ariadne disliked the raw taste, but she ate what her mother cooked anyway. She would often see her sticking a needle up her arms. Her mother would always be in a good mood once she had pushed the needle in her arms. She would share her chips with Ariadne then and eventually fall asleep. But Ariadne would also witness how her mother changed when she did not find the liquid to be put in the syringe. The mother, who would share her chips, would suddenly shake Ariadne violently and with a manic expression ask her, “Where is it? Where is it? Did you take it? Tell me did you hide it?” On not getting an answer, she would push away the little girl and sob incessantly till her father gave a needle full of the liquid to her mother. She grew up
in a peaceful household as long as her father had a glass filled with a golden liquid and the mother had a needle in her arms. She remembered her father very vaguely and what she remembered did not make her very happy. The first thing that she remembered about her father was his smell. The strong, pungent smell repulsed Ariadne. He did not even know that she existed. She did not remember her father ever having a proper conversation with her. After her mother’s death, he had started drinking heavily. He created a storm if he ever missed out on a peg. She was raised by two very laidback people with severe disappointments in life. Drinking problem took over the household and soon led to the estrangement of familial relationships. Even their neighbors maintained a respectable distance from their house. The neighborhood children were specifically instructed to stay away from Ariadne as much as possible. They had tried helping the family in the past, but they were incorrigible. They were the proverbial ‘bad eggs’. At school, Ariadne was taunted as “white trash”. She didn’t have many friends in school and always kept to herself during recess. Ariadne Silver would spend most of her days under an acacia tree, reading Alice in Wonderland from a borrowed library book. She could really identify with Alice and was almost convinced that her living condition was nothing short of a Wonderland. The only difference between Ariadne and Alice was that Ariadne was born in a wrong Wonderland. With a history of sexual abuse running in her family, Ariadne found it difficult to talk to people in her locality. Wherever she went, people would look down upon her with pity and try to help her with a stray dollar or two. The first time Ariadne really understood the value of money was when she was really hungry and didn’t have a penny in her pocket. She went to the market and tried to coax the shopkeeper to give her a small slice of bread, she would pay him later. But people do not get free lunches in this world anymore. Ariadne Silver was ridiculed out of the shop. She was asked to do “give” the shopkeeper something in return. It was then Ariadne understood that the world listens to money and sex. Whoever had both would get anything they wanted. Ariadne Silver had neither money nor the resources to cultivate her feminine graces. She was a woman who loved playing on the fields with boys. She could throw spitballs and give wedgies to whiny crybabies. As a child, Ariadne teamed up with the local hoodlums and beat the good kids of the neighborhood. No one said anything to her because people treated her like an orphan, pitied her and showed her the way out of things. Ariadne Silver was an unwanted child, left to rot in the veritable dump of human interactions, with nowhere to go and no one to look up to. She was born in a wrong Wonderland and did not know how to get out of it. With her mother at the “happy place” and her father somewhere out of reach, Ariadne Silver was declared a legitimate orphan and immediately handed over to the stern and silent hands of an orphanage in remote Arizona. Growing up in an orphanage was tough and enlightening. Ariadne got tutored by the stark reality of her existence. She always kept to herself and trusted nobody. Since her mother’s corpse had lied to her, Ariadne felt betrayed and let down by humanity. She couldn’t come to terms with her mother’s death. How could she go to a happy place and leave her all alone in a strange little world? Since Ariadne had nowhere to go and nothing to hold on to, she decided to hold on to anything and everything that came her way. It was this decision that separated her from the autumn walls of the orphanage and led her to the path of prostitution. Ariadne Silver was not an ordinary prostitute. She was a woman of content, having been tutored by life, and knew her way around the world. Her customers called her Alice and she called them “Hatters”. Ariadne Silver lived her life to the fullest on the dark side of the wrong Wonderland. She played her tea parties well and often pleasured customers with some recreational scolding. Having had no guidance in morality and institutions, Ariadne learnt to differentiate between good and bad on her own. She trusted her instincts the most and made the right choices for her well being and sanity. While her other friends were busy spending their money on shoes and naughty lingerie, Ariadne ‘Alice’ Silver was busy saving them for something bigger and grander than shoes and a whorehouse. There was a reason why customers always came back for Ariadne. She knew the art of sexual intercourse better than her sisters. She knew what aroused a man and what disappointed a customer. She wrapped her customers in delicate fragrances and essential oils and basically took them to a “happy place”. Alice was an excellent masseur, better than the best professionals in town. Ariadne was waiting for her day in the sun. She always dreamt big and saw the world through tinted lenses. There were places she had to see, people she had to meet. She had heard about models in Paris and actors in New York. She had heard about talk shows and reality shows. She liked to dream big. Ariadne Silver dreamt about the sunny side of the wrong Wonderland. She dreamt of fragrant parlors and shady boulevards. Alice wanted to shop in France and drive through the streets of San Francisco. Ariadne ‘Alice’ Silver didn’t just dream big, she breathed life into her dreams. It all seems like a fairy tale to her now. She has a vague recollection of her past life now. She is Ariadne Silver, a moderately rich spa owner in the arid parts of Arizona. She lives in a house that looms taller than that orphanage she vaguely remembers. It is a veritable mansion, a palace fit for a fairy tale. Ariadne ‘Alice’ Silver believed no one and did not let anyone get too close to her. She always avoided company and dated men as impersonally as she did her job. Ariadne loved freedom and money. The dry vegetation of Arizona and the screaming sun overhead always made her head spin. She spent most of her day offs at the pool in her back yard. She liked to swim languidly like an aimless fish waiting for a hook. Sun and cacti, that was all that Arizona had to offer. She was almost tired of being rich and bored in the quiet corners of her suburb and wished life would teach her a lesson soon. Although she had the money to afford a recreational break from her ennui and go off to another place, Ariadne didn’t like to do anything outside the “plan”. She had to make a lot of money first. She was too young and too free to want to take a break. She knew her customers well and her job was more presentable than what it used to be. No one would dare call her a whore for doing what she does. She offered recreational massages and relaxing aromatherapy. Ariadne knew the tricks of the trade and always made her services interesting for her clients. She offered them different themes and settings in which they would prefer to relax. In short, she was brilliant.