“There you have it. It’s because she is dead.”
Michel gazed out the window before turning to face his father.
“And what about the two of you? Was it good news when you got married?”
“Wonderful news! If I could do it all over again, I’d marry her even sooner. So, it stands to reason it’ll be good news for Maggie as well. After all, happy marriages run in our family.”
“Ah. I’m not sure that trait can be considered genetic. I’ll have to confirm tomorrow at the university.”
“What about you, Michel? Are you happy about Maggie?” Ray asked softly.
“Yes, I think so . . . I am happy knowing that Maggie is going to get married, and more so now that I know it’ll be a happy marriage because that runs in our family, as you say . . . but I admit I am a bit scared of meeting her future husband.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Well, I simply hope that the two of us will get on.”
“You already know each other, Michel. You know, good old Fred? Tall chap, nice guy. We’ve had dinner a few times at his pub. At least, I’m assuming he’s the one your sister is going to marry. But who knows—it’s Maggie.”
“It’s a shame that Mum can’t be there with you to celebrate the good news that her daughter is going to get married.”
“And which daughter might that be?” Ray replied with a wink and a grin. “We’ve got two.”
Michel chewed on this for a moment, then returned his father’s smile.
5
MAY
October 1980, Baltimore
The motorcycle roared its way up the hill. Whenever Sally-Anne twisted the throttle, dust streamed out from behind the back wheel. She had just a few more bends to go before the manor came into view. May was able to make out the limits of the Stanfield estate even from a distance, with the finials of elegant black wrought-iron railings forming an imperfect circle around the sprawling grounds. Her grip on Sally-Anne’s waist got tighter as they caught sight of the manor, tight enough to make Sally-Anne turn around and shout over the wind with a devil-may-care smile.
“Hey, you’re not the only one who’s scared shitless, but that’s what makes it such an exciting adventure, isn’t it?”
The rumble and purr of the Triumph drowned out most of what she said. May could only make out “scared shitless” and “exciting,” which did properly describe the mixed emotions she was feeling at that moment. She and Sally-Anne were fully in sync with each other.
Sally-Anne downshifted and tilted toward the pavement as she whipped around the last hairpin bend, hugging the tight curve before picking up speed again as it straightened out. Her masterful control of the Triumph would have turned any biker green with envy.
As they entered the home stretch, the manor stood out starkly at the top of the hill, its pretentious columns reigning over the entire valley. Such ostentatious and gaudy luxury was typically reserved for upstarts and the nouveau riche, yet the Stanfields were one of the oldest and most venerable families in the city, playing a major role in Baltimore life from its very founding. It was whispered that the family had amassed their fortune on the backs of slaves farming their lands. The rumor was contested by others, however, who claimed the esteemed Stanfield clan was among the first to have set slaves free, and that certain family members would have been ready to pay any price for their liberty—even in blood. The truth varied depending on whom you asked, and in what neighborhood.
Sally-Anne slowed the Triumph to a stop in the employee parking area, cut the engine, and lifted her helmet to just above her ears. As May stepped off the bike, Sally-Anne gestured across the way.
“The service entrance is straight ahead. Introduce yourself using the accent we practiced, and tell them you have an appointment with Miss Verdier.”
“Couldn’t she somehow still be inside?”
“Not unless she has the ability to be in two places at once. See the lady walking toward the black Ford right now, right over there? Miss Verdier, in the flesh. Like I told you, she takes her break at eleven in the morning every day like clockwork, jumping into her pretty little car and zipping into town for a nice lunch-break massage . . . and other things, if you know what I mean.”
“You know, you never fully explained how you know all this.”
“Well, when I said I’ve been following her closely for the past few weeks, I meant closely. Believe me, I know Miss Verdier a little too well at this point.”
“No. Even you wouldn’t have gone that far . . .”