Dream of Orchids

by Phyllis A. Whitney

  “Do you think it’s a threat? A warning to Alida?”

  Iris dropped the chisel onto the desk. “That’s all you can make of it?”

  “Should I make something more?”

  “Why not? Fern says you’re in charge, doesn’t she?” There was mockery now.

  “I don’t feel in charge. But I do think we need to get back to some sort of normal life. Perhaps it’s different for you—since you’ll be marrying Derek. You’ll move away soon, won’t you?”

  Her eyes didn’t meet mine. “Perhaps not. Derek has grown fond of this house. He may even want to live here permanently.” She stood up to move restlessly about the room. “Of course we’ll have to make changes. Derek likes Cliff’s rooms best, though they’ll have to be done over to suit us.”

  My surge of indignation surprised me. I had no right to feel so irritated. Iris could do as she pleased in this house, unless Fern opposed her.

  “I suppose this is Derek’s idea?” I asked.

  “He usually gets what he wants. After all, Cliff’s rooms are the largest, most comfortable rooms in the house.”

  I held back the sharp words on my tongue. “I’ve never understood why your mother’s room was so far away from Cliff’s. Had they separated?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that. Poppy just liked a place where she could be alone when she wanted to be.”

  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about anything,” I said. “Especially about that chisel. Why did you show it to me?”

  “Oh, go away!” Iris said impatiently. “You’re no help at all.”

  She wanted something of me—perhaps only some reassurance that she couldn’t ask for directly and that I had no idea how to give. How could I offer reassurance when I had so little myself?

  I told her good night and went out of the room, feeling even more disturbed than before. Iris had meant to influence me in some way—but she hadn’t been clear enough so that I could even guess what she wanted. Whether the reappearance of the metal wedge meant anything, I had no idea.

  As I moved about the room that had been Poppy’s, I felt as restless as Iris had seemed. A moment of that terrible night on the Aurora came back to me vividly—when I thought I’d recognized the man Alida and I had seen breakfasting with Derek that morning in Mallory Square.

  I took out my sketch pad and turned to the quick drawing I’d made of Derek and the stranger. The man certainly looked like the one both Alida and I had seen on deck that night. The same man who’d been pursuing Eddie. Had Derek known that he was on board the Aurora?

  But there was nothing I could do about any of this. Looking for something to occupy me, I remembered Cliff’s letters that I’d brought from upstairs, and I took them out to read.

  They were quite dear letters from a father who tried to write cheerfully to a lost daughter and conceal his own pain. I cried a little as I read, and now I could let the last of old resentments go.

  When I’d put the letters away, I still felt restless and unable to settle down. I needed to walk—to do something active—so I went downstairs through the quiet house. A light shawl had been left on a chair near the door, and I threw it around my shoulders. The air was mild and still, the sky starry, and a stroll might help me to sleep. I needn’t go far from the house.

  I walked briskly, more comfortable than I’d felt outdoors in the garden at West Martello, yet with something at the back of my mind troubling me. Something far more trivial than what had happened to Eddie, yet in some way pertinent. It concerned the metal wedge. What was it Iris had said that bothered me?

  I couldn’t recall her exact words, and I walked along, trying not to think at all.

  15

  The hour was after midnight, but people were still about on Key West streets, and the bars were busy. Residences and restaurants and occasional dark shops were mixed together in this old island district. A few sailors had come ashore, and they greeted me cheerfully when they passed, but didn’t bother me.

  Then I saw a man coming toward me who seemed both drunk and angry. He was arguing to himself as he walked, and sometimes he waved his arms threateningly. I crossed the street to avoid passing close to him and kept a wary eye in his direction. Though he didn’t notice me as he paused under a streetlight, I recognized him with a shock. This was the man whose face I’d sketched—and had only just looked at in my own drawing—the man I’d glimpsed among the pirates who’d boarded the Aurora that night. If this was the same man, he might be a key to what had happened, and I’d better not let him out of my sight. If I could find out where he was going, I could call Marcus.

  I crossed the street again and was in time to see him turn up a narrow alleyway. The maps I’d seen of Key West had shown me the strips of short, blind alleys that opened off some of the main streets, cutting into the heart of a block. This one looked dark and unsavory. The houses appeared dilapidated, the tiny yards weed-grown. Reconstruction hadn’t reached into all the byways yet.

  The tall man weaved ahead of me until he came to a ramshackle, single-story house, its paint weathered and its shutter slats broken. The house stretched back almost flush with the alley, and as I hesitated, the man turned into a rear porch entrance. I didn’t like the feeling of any of this, and my instinct was to turn and run. But there was too much at stake, and I walked cautiously past the end of the house before I looked back. The alley ended abruptly—blind and a trap, with no way out in that direction.

  Streetlights hardly penetrated, but I could make out two dark figures against the blackness of the back porch. One must have been waiting for the other, and they were speaking softly, so I couldn’t hear their words. I lost myself quickly in deep shadow near the house, poised to run at any moment.

  One of the men raised his voice angrily—just loud enough for me to distinguish the words. “You’d better not try anything if you want your pay.” The voice was Derek’s, and I tensed in alarm.

  “I’ve got my pay,” the other said insolently.

  Without warning, Derek hit him, and I saw flailing arms as the fellow went off the open porch and crashed to the ground. Moving like a shadow myself, I crept around the corner of the house and fled back to the street. I walked two blocks as fast as I could go, while my thoughts clamored. When I paused to see where I was, I recognized the street and knew I could find again the house where I’d just been. Right now, however, I must get to Marcus.

  Most of the Old Town houses were dark and asleep, and there was no place where I could phone. It was easier to walk a few more blocks to where Marcus lived.

  The big house with its conspicuous towers and gables was easy to find, and most of it was dark too. I walked through the yard along one side and was relieved to see a light burning in Marcus’s window. The front door would be locked at this hour, and I didn’t want to rouse everyone in the house, so I searched the bushes for a small stick. Then I aimed high at the lighted window screen and threw it hard. The stick sailed toward the target and clattered on the screen. Nothing else happened, and I could hear Marcus’s typewriter, shutting out other sounds.

  I looked for a heavier bit of broken branch and waited for a pause in the typewriter rhythm. When I hurled my second stick into the air I heard it land with a satisfying thwack against the screen.

  A chair was shoved back in the room above, and Marcus came to the window. He couldn’t see me in the shadowy yard, but I called to him softly. He tapped the screen and disappeared. I went around to the front of the house, and a few moments later he came down to me. He’d brought a flashlight, and when he’d turned it on my face he took hold of my shoulder to steady me.

  “You’re shaking. What is it, Laurel? What happened?”

  For just a second I hung on to him, wanting supportive arms around me. But there was no time for such weakness now, and I told him quickly what I’d seen and where I’d left the two men.

  “I’ll have a look right away,” he said. “Go up on the porch and wait for me, Laurel.”

 
; “I will not,” I said, and I saw his grin in the light from the street. He was getting used to me.

  “Okay, come along. Maybe two of us will be safer than one, anyway.”

  We hurried up the street, and when we came to the slit of alley, we slowed and slipped into a patch of shadow that lay against the house. The rear porch was dark and empty. Marcus went ahead, and I reached out to touch his back as we followed through the weeds to rickety steps. No one lay on the ground below the porch, and the door stood open on darkness.

  “I’ll have a look inside,” Marcus whispered. This time he didn’t ask me to wait, and I climbed the steps right on his heels.

  When we were inside, he closed the door behind us and turned on his light. The room had been a kitchen once, but it was empty now, the sink chipped and grimy. This was a shotgun house, with room after room in a straight row from back to front. The next room had been used as a dining room, and the flashlight beam led us on.

  “There’s no one here now,” Marcus said.

  We went through to the front, our steps echoing on bare pine floors.

  “I think this is a house Derek used to own,” Marcus said. “It may still belong to him.”

  Though rooms were at a premium in Key West, no one seemed to be occupying the house now. There were no possessions, no traces of former residents. Marcus opened a closet door in the long hall that ran along the row of rooms and turned the light upon a cardboard carton. It seemed to be full of old newspapers. When Marcus would have closed the door, I stopped him, prompted by some curious intuition.

  “Look under the papers,” I said.

  He lifted them out, a layer at a time, and from between the folds of the last paper something slipped out and clattered heavily to the floor. We stood staring at the puddle of golden links shining in the flashlight’s beam. When Marcus picked up the chain and held it out, I knew it was one of those that had been retrieved from the Santa Beatriz.

  “The man who was talking to Derek said he had his pay,” I said. “Maybe this is what he meant. Maybe he has more where this came from. I know he was one of the pirates.”

  “I’ll take this with me,” Marcus said, and wrapped the links of chain into a crumpled newspaper.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. The next step may be tricky because we still don’t know quite enough to take action against Derek, but there are some people I can consult. Don’t say anything about this, Laurel. We don’t want to set him running.”

  “Of course not.”

  “And don’t go sneaking around in places like this alone at night.”

  “I didn’t do it for fun.”

  “I know.” He put an arm around me as we walked back to my father’s house, and at the gate he kissed me. While it wasn’t a brotherly kiss, I didn’t think it was the way he’d have kissed Iris.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said. “Do take care, Laurel.”

  He waited near the steps till I’d let myself in with my key, then went off, walking quickly. I hoped he would take care too. These were dangerous and probably desperate men.

  I got ready for bed as quickly as I could, and this time I was tired enough to fall asleep. Not until nearly daylight did I come suddenly awake with something clear in my mind. It was the matter of the steel wedge that had been used to shut Poppy into the orchid house. I knew now what it was that had bothered me about the chisel when Iris had shown it to me. It was supposed to be kept in a toolbox in the orchid house, she’d said. So how did it come to be outside, where it could be forced into the doorjamb? Unless someone was in the orchid house with Poppy that day—someone who might have seen the accident with the glass flask and had deliberately picked up the chisel to carry it outside, where it was used to jam the door. If that was really the way it had happened, then Poppy had been allowed to bleed to death by someone who knew very well how badly she’d been cut.

  The next morning I slept late and woke up sluggishly. Too many unpleasant memories were ready to rush through my mind to engulf me. It was better to get up and find out what was happening.

  When I’d showered and dressed, I went out on the back porch and looked down into the garden. Two people were there, breakfasting together. Derek and Fern were talking as cheerfully as though there had been no recent antagonism between them. Yesterday Fern had been avoiding Derek, as she had done ever since that fatal trip on the Aurora. Now they seemed to be the best of friends.

  I went in search of someone to consult—Alida, if she were here. However, it was Iris whom I met as she came out of her room. She looked distraught, even a little wild, and I wondered if Marcus had told her what had happened last night.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She grasped my arm almost fiercely and propelled me toward my room. “We need to talk—where no one will hear us.”

  The pictures Fern had rehung on the wall caught Iris’s eye as we walked in, and she shivered, turning her back on them, her words pouring out in a rush.

  “Last night, after Derek came home late, I went to his room because I had something to tell him. I’d decided that I couldn’t marry him, and he had to know without waiting any longer. In the beginning, I thought that what Alida had told me about Derek and Poppy wouldn’t make any difference. I thought I loved him enough to overcome anything. But I’ve been waking up to the way I really feel. Laurel, I think I was in love with what I thought was his love for me. He seemed so exciting and different from any men I knew.”

  She broke off and was silent for a moment. When she went on she sounded more resolute.

  “After a while I began to see that I was more like a goal to him—something to win, to achieve. Not a real woman. And I didn’t want that. So I told him last night in his room that I wouldn’t marry him.”

  “How did he react?”

  “He was furious. For a minute I was afraid of him. Then he seemed to pull himself together, and he said, ‘I don’t need you any more—so get out!’ Do you know, I’d even told him that I knew about his affair with Poppy, but he didn’t care. It was as if Poppy mattered to him only in a strange, perverse sort of way. After what happened between them, she must have hated herself. Alida says she would have nothing more to do with Derek. He went away, but from then on I think he wanted mainly to hurt her, to punish her. That’s why he came back to Key West after all these years. Perhaps he thought he could pay her back by marrying me, by charming Fern. I’m afraid he nearly succeeded. But Fern has changed toward him too, and he knows now how I really feel. When I walked out of the room, he let me go, but I’m not sure what he may try now.”

  “Maybe you’d better see who’s having breakfast together down in the garden.” I motioned her toward the porch door.

  She stepped outside, and I stood near her at the rail. Derek was holding Fern’s hand, and she was crying softly, happily.

  “Oh, God!” Iris pulled me back inside. “Come downstairs with me, Laurel. We have to put a stop to this.”

  We hurried down the back stairs together and burst out upon them. Derek looked up in surprise, and Fern stared through her tears.

  “Let her alone!” Iris cried. “I know what you’re up to. If you can’t have me, you’ll go after Fern. You’d like to get your hands on Cliff’s wealth, wouldn’t you? Well, it’s not going to happen!”

  After his first surprise, Derek seemed undisturbed. “Oh, I don’t know. Fern understands now that I’ve always been more than fond of her.”

  Fern looked up, her eyes still brimming. “Isn’t it wonderful, Iris? Wonderful that we can find each other—when I thought it would never happen.”

  “Don’t be an idiot!” Iris snapped. “You know—but he doesn’t. So stop pretending it’s not true. Derek, Poppy told Alida the truth that she never told you. You can’t make any move in Fern’s direction—she’s your daughter.”

  My knees turned suddenly weak, and I dropped into a chair abruptly.

  Derek stared at Iris. “What are you talking about?
”

  “It’s perfectly true. Alida has all the facts. They’ve been haunting her for a long time. I wanted her to tell you. I even phoned her that time when she was on the island and asked her to tell you everything. Only she didn’t—she told Fern instead. So Fern knows, even if she pretends she doesn’t.”

  “Don’t believe it, Derek!” Fern cried. “Cliff was my father. I told Alida it couldn’t be true. At first what she said put me off, and I couldn’t talk to you. But now everything inside me tells me it’s not true. The way I feel about you isn’t the way I feel about Cliff. I can tell—”

  Derek stopped her. “Wait a minute, Fern. We’d better not kid ourselves. I expect it probably is true. But that doesn’t mean that you and I can’t get to know each other in a new way. Maybe when I get used to the idea, I’ll even like having a daughter.”

  Iris saw what he was doing, and so did I. If he couldn’t reach Fern and use her in one way, he’d do it in another. Iris started to protest, but this wasn’t the time, and I drew her into the house. There was a better way to fight Derek—Marcus’s way.

  “Did Cliff know about this?” I asked when we were in the hall.

  “No, I’m sure he didn’t. Alida has been carrying her secret around for a long time, and she would never have wounded Cliff by telling him. But she finally had to stop me from marrying him. Who knows what Fern will do now, if Derek turns on his charm and plays father?”

  “I don’t see how Poppy could have—”

  “Alida said it was only a temporary fling. She was piqued by what she thought was Cliff’s neglect, and she reached out to Derek. I think she never forgave herself, from what Alida says. Alida was her one confidante. Fern was conceived while Cliff was away on a trip, and she couldn’t possibly tell him and wreck her marriage. She really loved Cliff. So she juggled dates, and of course she never told Derek either. But this was why she didn’t want me to marry him, and why Fern’s infatuation upset her so much. At first when Alida told me, all I wanted was to go on caring about Derek. But somehow I couldn’t.”