Adduné - the Vampire's Game (3 page)

“
Yes, you! You were trying to scare me, weren’t you? I’m sure you made everything up! Admit that you did!” Miranda said still laughing heartily. She turned inserting the large iron key into the door only mildly aware of the sounds of vigorous protestations behind her. She smiled to herself realizing that he wasn’t going to stop. If only he knew that she’d never be convinced – that alone might stop him from trying.

The morning was turning out to be full of surprises. First, getting a gander of Weatherly Manor and now Reginald thinking he could get away with making up tall tales. She had to admit that she was rather amused. She was regularly reminded by examples such as this as to why her father had liked this strange character so much. Reginald was full of vinegar. It’s what made him so delightful. No one would ever expect the respected, conservative attorney to be making up tales of the supernatural to scare the wits out of her, but he had. She shook her head gently, brushing a lock of hair from her brow. This certainly was a side she’d never seen before. She wondered what other stories he’d made up that had gotten past her. From now on, she’d be on her guard as far as Reginald was concerned. There was an imp in him that occasionally got loose. This was certainly one of those times.

Reginald stood on the step watching the tall, elegant woman unsuccessfully try to open the locked solid oak door. What with her wavy blonde hair and chestnut brown eyes, she really had grown up to be quite lovely. Her face was expressive and her skin smooth except for a smattering of freckles across her nose. On occasion, powder covered them and gave her a photofinish, but Reginald liked her best like this – natural and letting her God-given beauty shine through. He saw her in profile now, her chiseled chin becoming tensed. She was finding the door a handful. He covered the hint of a snicker by brushing at his combed and slightly pomaded moustache. He bent his head down in case she turned and caught him. He hid his pleasure of the recent exchange. Deep within him he hoped it had done some good.

Her thick mane of springy curls shook a bit from the effort she exerted. Even the soft folds of her summer-weight chiffon dress were nervously trembling. Miranda hated when she couldn’t accomplish something on the first try. He kept silent about there being a trick to opening the door. You needed to first lift up the key before you began to turn it. It was another secret he would keep to himself.

He watched her slender shoulders struggling so. She had her full weight against the door as if she could ram it down. That was Miranda – a beautiful, battering ram, but one with a heart of gold. She was always doing, giving and donating her time to a worthwhile cause. All that good work went unrecognized and unrewarded. She felt that advertising displays of goodness were ostentatious and undid what you were trying to accomplish. Yes, Miranda was quite something else. She had that rare audacity of spirit combined with superb intelligence. Throw in a dash of ethics and you had a pretty complete picture of what she was like and why she reminded him so much of her father. So much so that, at times, it hurt.

Reginald had been Arthur Perry’s solicitor for over a quarter of a century. In that time, they had become fast friends. It was the meshing of the personal and professional that made their partnership so harmonious. Reginald was well aware it could have gone the other way since both Reginald and Arthur were fixed in their ways. Out of mutual respect, they kept out of each other’s way. By concentrating on their jobs and not nitpicking one another, the whole thing had worked out, and the Perry empire had been built. And it had been Reginald steering, guiding, and advising the daring Arthur Perry in his business dealings, every step of the way. He always took care that his obstinate friend stayed within the letter of the law. It was a difficult task at best for he knew that Arthur Perry had not always listened to his advice. Reginald was aware that Arthur had occasionally overstepped boundaries. At times like those, Reginald had blinked to avoid seeing what crimes Arthur sometimes perpetrated to get what he wanted. Even though Arthur’s nefarious activities had made him blanch on more than one occasion, he remained true to his dear old friend and said nothing. He never let on that he knew. Adhering to legalities was a major difference in their philosophies. Reginald felt everyone should and Arthur thought that laws – like rules – were made to be broken. He called it “taking liberties.”

Being Arthur’s barrister meant that Reginald had helped Arthur prepare his Last Will and Testament. Above all else, Arthur loved his family – he had been devoted to them. Because of his deep-seated affection, Arthur made sure his Will was always up-to-date. It was Arthur that got on Reginald to make updates and not the other way around. Reginald couldn’t think of another client that had reversed roles in this regard. The sad truth was that, even though Reginald had drafted numerous versions of the document, he never seriously considered the fact that Arthur would ever die. He had – three months ago. His wife and daughter had been in the midst of diligently planning a surprise party commemorating his making it through another decade, but the celebration never took place. On April 21, two days short of his 60
^th
birthday, he’d died in a tragic car accident. If the accident had occurred anywhere other than on that cliff, he most likely would have walked away. The investigation had proved he wasn’t speeding – or drinking. Nonetheless, he’d managed to lose control of the wheel just long enough for his car to crash through the barrier and plunge down the steep embankment. His seatbelt kept him from going through the windshield, but in another twist of fate, the airbag failed to inflate. It wasn’t there to prevent the steering wheel from tearing into his chest. By the time he was extricated him from the pile of twisted metal, it was too late. He was pronounced dead at the scene. Reginald still couldn’t quite believe the whole thing had happened. Arthur’s death was unexpected and too soon. Arthur Perry, the vigorous man that had traveled the length of the world more times than some people bathed, had died at the ripe young age of 59.

Because of Reginald’s intimate knowledge of Arthur’s wishes, he knew that after charitable bequests, small stipends to staff, friends, and distant relations, the bulk of Arthur’s estate would be equally divided between his wife, Constance, and his two adult children, Miranda and Chase. While some outsiders thought Chase would take over his father’s antiquities empire, Reginald always knew the business would go to Miranda. It would have been clear to Reginald even without the Will. Most outsiders had only assumed Chase would be Arthur’s choice because he was older – and a male. In reality, Chase had never even expressed an interest in his father’s profession, while Miranda delighted in it. Ever since she was but a child – knee-high in height to her towering, redwood of a father – she had always begged to accompany him on his frequent trips. He would have gladly taken her with him on all of them were it not for Constance. She kiboshed the trips on the sole basis that traveling would take too much time away from the child’s formal education. For Constance, education came first. Arthur was not so sure. He was a self-made man that valued first-hand experience more. Above either, Arthur prized his wife’s good opinion of him and, therefore, never interfered with her wishes. That meant Miranda went with her father only when not in school. Reginald knew Arthur looked forward to those times and their adventures had held a special place in his heart.

Arthur had always pinned his hopes on his delightful daughter. She was the most like him and had inherited all her father’s inimitable fire and charm. Luckily, she had gotten her looks from her mother. Constance had been a successful high-fashion model when whisked off the market by Arthur. On their first date, he had asked her to marry him. On their third, she’d accepted. They stayed blissfully wed for 35 years until his unfortunate death. Miranda favored her mother; Chase also. Neither one had inherited Arthur’s coppery-red hair, but Miranda did get her father’s eyes. They were brown and not the sky blue of her mother or brother.

Reginald had been the first to receive the news of his friend’s death. He rushed to Arthur’s estate where he found Constance weeping and inconsolable. He chanced interrupting her private grieving. He was glad he intruded. Upon seeing him, she fairly threw herself into his arms. He held and cradled her until she calmed down. He’d been a staunch harbor for her in her time of need.

Because of Arthur’s upcoming birthday, both children were at home in England, but Reginald had felt it wasn’t enough. He made the determination that Constance needed more help than Miranda or Chase could offer. He discussed his idea with them and then arranged for his wife, Bonita, to stay with Constance – at the Perry estate – until she regained her bearings. Bonnie and Constance were good friends and Bonnie knew all about running a household. Reginald also knew that Bonnie could help with the details of planning Arthur’s funeral, as well as run interference against the barrage of well-meaning friends wanting to say comforting words to Arthur’s family. Consequently, Bonnie was there to lift the burden from the entire Perry family – not just Constance. It’s never a pleasant thing for the wife or children to be bogged down with morbid decisions.

Chase and Miranda stayed on in England, while Reginald kept a watchful eye on both. He was closer to Miranda as Chase had always preferred the company of women. In fact, Chase was a momma’s boy and extraordinarily close to Constance. When he grew up, his strong affection for women was reflected in the fact that he’d married twice before the age of 24. They had been impetuous and short-lived affairs. It proved that although Chase was three years older than Miranda, he was infinitely younger in terms of maturity. However, it had been Chase that volunteered for the task of identifying his father’s body, thus sparing his mother the grim duty of viewing the grisly remains.

Reginald’s decision had worked out beautifully for Chase. During that awful time, he’d accepted Bonnie as a sort of surrogate mother. The feeling was returned as Bonnie had a deep affection for the handsome, 30-year-old, but then most women did. Reginald knew his wife’s warmth and compassion could work magic, but he never really imagined it would have worked out that perfectly.

Miranda had been another story. Reginald had reached out even though he knew his efforts would be driven away by her need to keep up a strong front. Miranda was so very different from her mother and brother. On the surface, she appeared to fare better than either, but there were reasons for that. One was that she’d chosen to pick up the reins of her father’s business rather than become despondent. She had a no-nonsense approach to life and didn’t take to “standing in mudholes,” as she put it. She was convinced that happiness was a choice, and that if you stood knee deep in unhappiness, it was a decision and not circumstances that put you there.

Reginald was well-acquainted with Miranda’s reasoning. She handled the tragedy the way Arthur would have. Her father had also held the belief that work solved most problems. Father and daughter were both driven by work – it was their central theme. Life sprang up around their professions, and so, Miranda had used work to keep the pain away. She wasted no time at all in getting started. She was already putting her stamp on things, having arranged three major exhibits all on her own. Reginald had been against the plan. He thought one would suffice in keeping the Perry name afloat in the minds of the super rich, but it was Miranda running things – and she was doing it her way.

Part of the reason Reginald objected so strongly was that her father would never have approved of scattering so many of his possessions in less than prominent museums. It had been a stroke of genius on Arthur’s part to exhibit his early finds. It had worked brilliantly. Arthur had just started out and was trying to make a name for himself in the world of antiquities. He needed both publicity and legitimacy. Exhibiting his treasures in well-known museums gave him both – instantly and overnight. And the cost? There was none – only rewards. The exhibitions seared his name in the public’s mind as an authority. Once branded, his name became synonymous with being an authority. From then on, customers came to him – not the reverse.

As for the number of exhibits, he had deliberately held back. His Egyptian collection had made a huge splash in New York, but his philosophy was to always let the demand outweigh the supply. He stayed true to that motto and displayed only a small percentage of the items collected. It was on this point that Miranda diverged wildly from her father. She wanted the world to see her father’s accomplishments. The treasures were an accumulation of a life’s hard work. She was determined to put it all out there for the world to see. That meant not being as selective in where the items were shipped, or where they were exhibited. Although Reginald had counseled and tried to dissuade her, her mind was made up. It was the first of those exhibits that brought them together on this weekend excursion to the old house. Miranda knew little about Weatherly Manor except that her father had been using the abandoned estate to store some of his treasures. Arthur Perry had picked up the ailing mansion for a pittance because of its run-down condition. Of course, Reginald knew Arthur’s real intent for the old estate. Arthur had wanted to turn it into a bed and breakfast. There was one thing missing – a legend to attach to it. He and Reginald had remedied that situation by sitting around a fire one evening with a full bottle of whiskey. By the end of the night, the bottle was drained and a new, fanciful ghost story had been created. It was identical to the one that he had recited to Miranda. The inflated and false infamous past would be used as a lure to attract customers. Nothing like a haunting or two to bring curious tourists out in droves.