I finally looked up at him. “Okay, you’re forgiven. We’ll stick to our original plan.”
“You got it.”
He smiled, squeezed my hand, then went back to the business of eating. I took a sip of my wine, glad that he had dropped the idea of going to South Carolina, but I still felt strangely uneasy.
69
Kate
South Carolina
IN EARLY MARCH, Jeremy announced that he would be going away for a week.
“It’s a dead period for fishing and I think it’s time I went to inspect that property I’ve inherited. If you want to come with, I’d be more than happy to accommodate you.”
I was surprised. I’d just started back to work part-time and he knew that it was impossible for me to leave.
“I can’t and you know it,” I said. “Anyway, I have no desire to visit that place.”
Jeremy frowned, then smiled. “That’s fine with me, sweetheart. I’ll go by myself. Check the place out and make sure it’s habitable. Ian’s will stated that staff would be kept on and paid until the new owner arrived, so I’ll have to evaluate them and make decisions as to whether I should keep them on. If I find the place is terrible, I talk to realtors about putting it on the market.”
I took a deep breath. “Good, I hope you do that, because I don’t ever plan on staying there.”
He looked at me, a stern expression on his face, then laughed. “Oh, sweetie, never say never.”
I frowned, but he put his hands on my waist, leaned forward, and kissed me.
“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he murmured in my ear. “What say we have a little tumble before I go?”
I grinned and kissed him back.
He laughed and, unceremoniously, took me in his arms and carried me into the bedroom.
He left early the next morning with a promise to text me every night. He was driving and estimated it would take him around three days to get to the property.
“I’ll send you pictures after I get there,” he said. “Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
“Fat chance,” I replied, laughing. “But you can try.”
After he left, I took a short walk on the beach before going to the clinic. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day for a change, albeit still cold. March was a difficult month weather-wise and I looked forward to spring and enjoying the warmth of the sun once again.
I arrived at work early and sat down with Steve to talk about the day’s schedule.
“Marcie will be here at ten,” he said. “You’ll be her first patient.”
Marcie Evers was my physical therapist who worked for a clinic on the mainland. Because I still needed extensive treatment for my shoulder and because we had other patients who could benefit from her services, I contracted with her clinic to have her work with us one-half day a week. So far, the arrangement was turning out beautifully.
“Okay, what else?” I asked.
“You have patients at eleven, one, and one-thirty. We have a diabetes clinic at two and then you have another patient at four. At seven, we have our opioid addiction group meeting.”
I smiled. “Sounds good.”
“Say, since you’re on your own right now, why don’t you stay here for dinner? It’s been kind of lonely here without Svetlana. She might be a stone-cold criminal, but she was good company in the evenings.”
I grinned. “Yeah, I kind of miss her, too. You know she’s pleading guilty. I think she’s hoping to get some leniency during sentencing.”
Steve nodded. “What about her father?”
I took a deep breath. “Vlad is still trying to cut a deal with the prosecutors. Going to rat out other members of the Russian mafia. Seems the authorities are interested, but I don’t know how it will pan out. Matt’s back in town and he’s keeping his ear to the ground and will let me know when he hears anything. I plan to make a victim’s statement at sentencing.”
I checked my watch. “Almost time to open up. I’m going to go to the ladies’. And, about dinner, I’d be honored to break bread with you tonight, my friend.”
We had a good day, a nice meal, and, when our group meeting with patients struggling with addiction was over, I finally headed home.
I had a text from Jeremy that he’d made good time and expected to arrive in South Carolina sometime the following evening. He sent me a virtual hug and a kiss, which I returned.
The next evening, he called late. I was already in bed.
“Hello?”
“Kate, it’s me. I made it. I’m on the island.”
“Jeremy? You woke me up.”
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the time. I guess I’m just too excited. This place is fabulous!”
I sighed. I really didn’t want to hear about the place, but decided it wouldn’t be right to throw a wet blanket on his enthusiasm.
“Oh, really?” I replied. “Tell me about it.”
“It’s right near the shore on a long expanse of white sand beach and dunes. It’s beautiful.”
“That sounds great. What’s the house like?”
“I’m going to take some pictures tomorrow and send them to you. It’s too dark now to get good shots. Basically, the house sits up on stilts. It’s two-story, large and spacious. And, get this – there’s no other homes on either side. I think there used to be structures there, but one of the staff told me they were wiped out by Hurricane Maude. The old man bought up the properties afterward. It’s like an oasis here – a little slice of heaven.”
The thought that Ian Morrison lived on a slice of heaven was enough to make me puke in my shoe. But, I kept my opinion to myself.
“Sounds nice,” I finally said.
He was silent for a moment, then came back on the line. “Look, I know you’re tired and I know you aren’t very enthusiastic about South Carolina, but after you see this place, I think you’ll change your mind. I’ll send you pictures tomorrow. Tonight, I might just take myself down to the shore for a little skinny dip!”
“Okay, you do that, but be careful of rip tides. I believe they’re prevalent down there.”
“Yes, Mother,” he replied, laughing. “Love you. Get some sleep.”
Without waiting for me to answer, he hung up. I put down the phone and curled back up in bed. As I wrapped my arms around my pillow, I replayed our conversation in my head and grudgingly had to admit that I was just a tad curious to see what this fabulous place looked like.
The next day, at noon, I got his email. The exterior of the house was as he described. A large two-story residence built on stilts on a beautiful strip of the coast. I was expecting this.
However, it was the interior that made my mouth drop.
The living or Great Room was tastefully decorated. White wicker was everywhere. Three of the walls were painted an off-white with the fourth painted in an accent color. I would find, as I went through the pictures, that this style was echoed in each of the other main rooms. The accent wall in the great room was colored a beautiful colonial blue-gray. Correspondingly, the cushions on the chairs and settee mimicked this color. There were potted palms spaced artfully throughout and the paintings on the walls were watercolors of coastal and beach scenes. The house had the definite ear-marks of a decorator’s touch and, try as I might, I couldn’t see Ian Morrison living there. It was a beautiful home.
I flipped back through the numerous photos a second time and, surprisingly, found myself longing to be there. Perhaps I was too hasty in rejecting the place.
I sent Jeremy a quick reply, then closed down my tablet.
I walked to the window and looked out. I felt confused. How could that evil old man have made a home like that? It didn’t make sense. But, then, what did I expect? A dark, dreary old house, full of cobwebs, roaches, and bats? No, Morrison thought he was privileged and liked the better things in life. It made sense that his home would reflect that taste.
The next day was a light one at the clinic. I only had two patients scheduled and the
y were routine. I called Steve and asked if he could take care of them for me. He agreed, no questions asked. I put on jeans and a sweater, grabbed my coat, headlamp, and a bottle of water. I was feeling restless and knew the only remedy would be to go down into the tunnels.
I needed a little silo time.
70
Kate
Some Not-So-Light Reading
WHEN I ENTERED the silo, I took off my jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair. It was my plan to rummage through the bookshelves looking for some of Maude’s writings on medicinal herbs. Planting season on the island wouldn’t begin until the first of June, but I wanted to get ahead of the game and have a list of seeds and seedlings ready when that time came.
I hung my backpack on the arm of the chair and was about to start searching the bookshelves when something caught my eye.
A small book bound in leather was sitting in the middle of the desk. Had someone or something already picked out my reading material?
I picked the book up. The title looked like it had been burned into the cover’s surface.
Tao Viperae
I knew that the word tao could mean way, so this book was titled “the way of” something? I opened it and flipped through the pages. It wasn’t long, but was written entirely in Latin. I was familiar with the language as it was used in medical terminology, but was not adept enough to translate regular text.
I leaned back in my chair, thinking. It was still morning and I had the whole day to myself. I could take this book over to the mainland, to the library in town. Perhaps they would know someone who could translate.
I put the Tao Viperae in my backpack and got up to leave. However, I suddenly realized this book, like Maude’s diary, might also be blessed with the sleep curse if taken from the silo. I thought about this for a moment, then decided to try anyway. But before leaving for town, I would sit down and try to read it to see if that effort put me straight to bed.
Decided, I put my jacket back on, grabbed my backpack and, donning my headlamp, left the building.
I arrived home at ten. I pulled the book out of my backpack and sat at the dining room table and mouthed the words, trying to read. After fifteen minutes, I was still awake and not the least bit tired.
“Okay,” I said. “It’s off to town.”
I called for a water taxi and headed down to the wharf.
71
Kate
The Translation
AT THE LIBRARY, I made straight for the main desk, where a woman sat working on a computer.
She looked up as I approached. “May I help you?” she asked pleasantly.
“I hope so,” I replied, pulling the book from my backpack. “I found this old book in the attic of my house and am curious about it. Unfortunately, it’s written in Latin and I never took that language in school. I hoping that you might know someone who could translate it for me. It’s not long.”
I handed the book over for her inspection. She stared at it, then looked up at me in surprise.
“This is a very old book,” she said. “Ancient even. I wouldn’t want to handle it without proper gloves.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that.”
The woman reached into her desk and pulled out a pair of white cotton gloves. Donning them, she then carefully opened the book.
I watched a bit impatiently as she gingerly examined it, page by page.
When she was done, she looked back up at me.
“This is really extraordinary,” she said. “It could be quite valuable.”
I nodded. “But what about the translation?”
The woman smiled. “I think I know just the person who could help you. Her name is Tabitha Grimes. She volunteers here at the library and I happen to know that she is fluent in Latin. She’s a paraplegic so she doesn’t get out much. But she lives just a couple of blocks from here. Would you like me to call her for you?”
“Yes, that would be fantastic. Thank you.”
“Okay, you wait right here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I stood by her desk, glancing around the library as I waited. How long had it been since I’d been inside at building such as this? Probably not since med school.
The woman returned and informed me that Tabitha would be happy to look at the book.
“Like I said, her apartment is close by. I’ll write down directions.”
“Thank you.”
I found Tabitha Grimes’ apartment without difficulty. She was a pretty girl, probably in her late-twenties. She sat in a state-of-the-art wheelchair and I wondered what had put her there.
I introduced myself at the door and waited for her to usher me inside.
“Have a seat,” she said. “Marlene says you have a quite extraordinary book that needs translation.”
“Yes, but I don’t know how extraordinary it is.”
As I spoke, I reached into my backpack and pulled out the volume.
“This is it,” I said, holding the book out for her to see. “It’s not long, but it’s written in Latin and I’m afraid my knowledge of that language stops at medical terminology.”
She stared at the book for a few seconds.
“Oh, my,” she said, clearly surprised. “Let me get a pair of gloves.”
She returned wearing a pair of white cotton gloves similar to those the librarian had worn.
“These are ‘handling’ gloves,’” she said softly. “They’re made specially for examining rare texts.”
She took the book from me and opened it to the first page, reading silently.
“Wow!” she said when she finished. “I think this is going to be very interesting. Would you be willing to leave it with me? It will take me some time to do an accurate translation.”
“Sure, but when do you think you’ll have it done?”
“If I start right away, and I’m eager to do so, I should have a typed translation for you by Wednesday. Is that soon enough?”
“That will do,” I replied. “Here, let me give you my card. If you have any questions, call or text me.”
“Great,” she said, pocketing the card. “I’ll start on it right away. Can you come back at four on Wednesday?”
Nodding, I opened my phone and entered the appointment on my calendar. “Let me know if something comes up and you can’t finish by then, okay?”
“I will and thank you for allowing me to see this rare book.”
We chatted a few minutes longer, then I left. Surprisingly, I felt no anxiety at all about leaving this book with a total stranger.
My task complete, I took myself out for a fine lunch, then returned to the island.
72
Kate
The Way of the Viper
ON WEDNESDAY, I left the clinic early to meet with Tabitha. I arrived at her apartment at the appointed time. She met me at the door.
“Hi, Dr. Pomeroy,” she said. “Come in and have a seat. I’ll get the translation and the book for you.”
She left the room and returned about five minutes later with the book in her hand. I noted that she, once again, had on a pair of cotton gloves and I made a mental note to look online for a pair for myself.
“Here it is,” she said, handing it to me.
I put the book in my backpack and waited.
“And, here’s the translation.”
She handed me a plain brown envelope. I glanced inside and was gratified to see several typed pages.
“That book is full of some real creepy stuff,” she said. “It actually gave me nightmares. I’ll be glad to have it out of my house. When you read the translation, in some places there will be a word followed by another word in parentheses. I do that when I not completely sure of the translation – just like English, Latin words can have more than one meaning. Understand?”
“Yes,” I said. “And, thank you. What do I owe you?”
Tabitha smiled. “Oh, nothing. I’m good. But you could make a donation to the library on my behalf.”
I grinned
. “Consider it done and, again, thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”
I hurried back to the wharf to catch a ride home. I arrived at the Carriage House a little after six. I poured myself a glass of wine and, with the envelope in hand, sat on the couch to read.
THE TAO OF THE VIPER
A Code of Ethics
All hail the Viper! Long may his glory endure!
I rolled my eyes when I read that bit of hyperbole, then continued reading. The next few sentences mimicked the first and I wondered if maybe getting this work translated had just been another fool’s errand. But by the time I reached the middle of the first page, I changed my mind.
It is the duty of this scribe to set down the canons (rules) that guide the Viper and his descendants so that all may be enlightened and all may be warned.
And, while the Viper is omnipotent, he shall always be mindful of his fellow man for it is his duty to advance civilization and ensure his line continues, unbroken.
Credo of the Viper
The Viper, with his vast wisdom and endless compassion, shall never prey on the hearty and robust. The lives he assumes shall be those of humans so wretched that they would look upon the Viper’s gift as a blessing, not a curse.
I stopped there, stunned. Was this book about creatures like old mister Morrison? Had he been one of these Vipers? And, if he had, why hadn’t he been bound by the rules? The first rule in the book was not to prey on healthy humans and Jeremy was, indeed, hearty and robust. And, what’s this bit about compassion? That old man didn’t have one ounce of compassion in his entire system.
The Tao of the Viper: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 2) Page 27