“I’m sorry to hear that she’s inconvenienced you,” Ms. Campbell said, “but I can’t say that I’m surprised.” Her voice rose in righteous indignation. “She left us without a word of warning after only four days on the job. I still haven’t found a replacement. Far be it from me to speak ill of anyone, but I’m forced to say that I found Miss Pym to be thoughtless, irresponsible, and unreliable.”
“One moment,” said Cameron. He reached into an inner pocket of his rain jacket and pulled out the picture he’d printed in Bree’s bedroom. He unfolded it and held it out to the receptionist, asking, “Is this the girl you hired?”
“That’s Bree,” she said curtly. “I never forget a face, especially a face I never want to see again.”
“Thank you,” said Cameron, returning the photo to his pocket. “We’ll go to our rooms now.”
Since there was no bellhop service, Cameron and I carried our bags through the rain, which was falling as heavily as ever, and up an outdoor flight of steps to an exterior walkway. Guest rooms lined one side of the walkway. The other side overlooked the parking area.
“A shame about the weather.” Cameron paused at the walkway’s railing and peered upward. “If the sky would clear, I could show you the Southern Cross. It’s not the biggest or the brightest constellation, but it was so useful to early explorers that we put it on our flag.”
“I don’t think we’ll do much stargazing tonight,” I grumbled. Our failure to find Bree had soured my mood, as had the unrelenting downpour. Though I was yearning to put a solid roof over my head, I crossed to stand beside Cameron. “Do you find it hard to believe? About Bree, I mean.”
“We’ll talk during dinner,” he replied. “Can you be ready in thirty minutes? ”
“Make it twenty,” I said.
My room was simply but adequately furnished. The wall opposite the door was made entirely of glass, with a sliding glass door that gave access to a small balcony. Since I had no desire to step outside any sooner than I had to, I ignored the balcony, changed into a silk blouse, black trousers, and the sling-backs, and placed my wet jeans and sneakers near the room’s heater, hoping against hope that they would dry before morning. I didn’t relish the thought of traveling back to Auckland in squelchy sneakers.
I opened the door at Cameron’s first knock.
“You’re dressed,” he said, looking surprised. “I thought my wife was the only woman on earth who could change for dinner in less than thirty minutes.”
“I’m full of surprises, Camo,” I said, zipping my rain jacket.
“Are you going to call me Camo from now on?” he asked as we retraced our steps to the lobby.
“If you’re lucky,” I shot back.
A young, heavyset waitress dressed all in black met us at the dining room entrance and guided us to a table near a huge picture window through which we could see nothing but gloom. The dining room seemed extracavernous because only two other tables were taken.
“It’s off season,” Cameron explained.
“I’ll say,” I muttered.
I was too disheartened to take much interest in food, so Cameron ordered the freshly caught crayfish and a bottle of locally produced chardonnay for both of us. When the waitress departed, I gazed at the rain-streaked window and shook my head.
“I can’t believe that the girl described by the receptionist is the same girl who lived in Takapuna,” I said. “Bree was a top student. She was the family’s accountant. Her room was as neat as a pin. How could she suddenly turn into an irresponsible slacker?”
“Maybe she’s taking some time off,” Cameron suggested.
“Excuse me.” Our waitress had returned, carrying an ice bucket and the bottle of wine Cameron had ordered. She glanced over her shoulder, then continued in a low voice, “What do you want with Bree? She’s not in trouble, is she?”
“Not with us,” said Cameron. “We’re friends of the family.”
“We’re not upset with her,” I added. “We’re worried about her.” The waitress opened the bottle, poured wine into Cameron’s glass, and waited until he’d nodded his approval before filling my glass. As she slid the bottle into the ice bucket, she seemed to reach a decision.
“You shouldn’t believe everything Ms. Campbell tells you,” she said abruptly.
“What should we believe, Miss . . . ?” Cameron raised an eyebrow.
“Call me Alison,” said the waitress. She glanced over her shoulder again before adding in an urgent undertone, “What happened was, he broke her heart. That’s why she left.”
“Who broke whose heart?” I asked in some confusion.
“Daniel broke Bree’s heart,” said Alison. “He didn’t mean to, but he did.”
“Who is Daniel? ” asked Cameron.
“Daniel Rivers,” Alison replied. “He’s an artist. He lives south of here. Every once in a while a girl lands on his doorstep, hoping to shack up with him.”
“Is that why Bree came here?” I asked.
Alison nodded. “I told her she had as much chance of bonking Daniel as I have of becoming prime minister. Daniel may be an artist, but he’s also a very happily married man.”
“Which is why he sent her away,” said Cameron.