“Why didn’t we fly to an airport closer to the hotel?” I asked.
“There isn’t one,” he replied. “And I didn’t think you’d enjoy a paddock landing.”
I didn’t know what a paddock landing was, but if it was more lively than the landing we’d just made, I was quite sure that I would have hated it.
It rained so hard for the next sixty-three kilometers that we might as well have driven through a tunnel. The scenery Aunt Dimity had praised so highly flashed past in a misty blur. The two-lane road was narrow, hilly, winding, and punctuated by a series of orange signs that featured nothing but a black exclamation point. I soon learned that the exclamation point was a general warning to slow down for a variety of reasons, ranging from road repairs to minor landslides to gaping craters in the middle of our lane. Thankfully, there was little traffic, and Toko’s car was so grossly underpowered that we didn’t really need to slow down to avoid anything.
Cameron insisted that we make one stop along the way, in a place called Waipoua Forest. I began to suspect that Aunt Dimity had somehow influenced his decision when a five-minute hike along a boardwalk snaking through a sodden jungle took us to the base of a gigantic tree known as Tane Mahuta, or the Lord of the Forest.
The tree’s massive trunk soared upward to a crown of stumpy branches covered with mosses, ferns, and vines, as though it were presenting its own miniature rain forest to the sky. Tane Mahuta’s girth, Cameron proclaimed, was just over forty-five feet, and it was nearly 170 feet tall.
“It’s a kauri,” he said proudly. “One hundred percent native to New Zealand. The logging industry took a bite out of our kauri forests in the late 1800s, but Tane Mahuta and some of his cousins were spared. They’re the oldest living things in the Southern Hemisphere.” Rain pelted his face as he tilted his head back to savor the tree’s magnificence. “I know you’re pressed for time, Lori, but we couldn’t pass by without saying hello.”
I didn’t debate the point. I felt such reverence for the ancient tree that I forgot about the rotten weather, the terrifying flight, and the hazardous drive, and wanted only to linger awhile in Tane Mahuta’s majestic presence. When Cameron mentioned that it would soon be dark, however, I came to my senses and galloped back to the car. Nothing short of a medical emergency could have induced me to travel on that road at night.
Darkness had fallen by the time we reached the Copthorne Hotel and Resort. The graveled parking lot was dimly lit, but the hotel appeared to be a sprawling British Colonial house to which a modern, two-story wing had been added. Palm trees, ferns, and tropical flowers grew in small beds on either side of the entrance, and the muted boom of the surf suggested that we weren’t too far from the sea.
The modest lobby was paneled in dark wood and decorated with Maori artifacts. A printed sign on one wall told the story of Kupe, the great Polynesian navigator. I had time to read most of it, because Ms. Campbell, the middle-aged receptionist, had to finish what sounded like a complicated phone call before she could attend to us.
After verifying the reservations Cameron had made, Ms. Campbell told us that the hotel’s restaurant was still serving dinner and that we would be in the first and second rooms on the upper floor of the modern wing.
“There’s no direct connection between the buildings, I’m afraid,” she said apologetically. “You’ll have to go outside again to reach your rooms. It’s only a few steps away, though, and I think the rain’s let up a bit. Will you be dining with us this evening?”
“Yes,” Cameron and I chorused.
The receptionist smiled. “I’ll reserve a table for you. Come down when you’re ready.” She gestured to a hallway that led off of the lobby. “The dining room is through there.”
“Is Bree Pym on the dinner shift? ” I asked hopefully.
Ms. Campbell’s warm smile wilted and her gaze became guarded. “Miss Bree Pym is no longer employed by the Copthorne.”
“She’s not?” I said, blinking in disbelief. “But we’ve come so far. . . .” My words trailed off into a faintly pathetic whine.
“Are you family?” Ms. Campbell inquired.
“No,” I said. “I’m trying to contact Bree Pym on behalf of her relatives in England. I have important information to give her. My friend and I have gone to a great deal of trouble to come here tonight because we expected to find her working at your hotel.”