Crape Myrtle (11)
“Look at you!” cried Valerie.
“Did you get the mail?” asked Natalia who wore high waist, wet look, metallic purple, stretch leggings and an off the shoulder black top with neon pink fishnet. She wore chains and beads, multi-layered bracelet with studs, rope and crucifix adding to a Madonna style.
“In the room,” replied Valerie, “I saved the same room for you. I thought you’d love it. Where were you?”
The bed was decorated with crape myrtles. “Lots of places,” said Natalia reaching for the FedEx.
“Tell me at Les Balles.”
Natalia looked at the contents in the package. A photograph of the will with digital date on it; 14 4 84. The Canon AE-1 camera in the case did not have a Databack. An accessory called a Databack was used and obviously imported product with regard to the date format. Linda could have used another camera or was it really taken by her in 1984…Savon Martin had died and the will was at large. Jeff Lonnell couldn’t take a duplicate of it in 1984 unless altering the Databack.
Enrique’s package contained illustrations of the fingerprints found on them along with details where they appeared.
Reflecting on the handwritten will with four of the signers; Anton Cyril, Sidney Martin, Cindy Lockwood and Laura Hudson. Whose handwriting was it?
It read; ‘I, Anton Benedict Cyril, being of full age and sound mind, hereby publish and declare this written note to bestow my property of Cyril House on 69 Church Street in Charleston, SC, alias the Crape-Myrtle House, to my spouse to whom I’m currently married; Sidney Martin Cyril of Indiana, born in Dillon, SC, to Sophia Crape and Myles Martin Jones, upon my death and revoke any claims for the property by my siblings to my first wife, Sinéad Lou Cyril, herself and others from my extended family, hereby signed in witness of two folks as my Last Will & Testament.’
The article of ‘Nicotine Overdose’ was typed with spelling mistakes. When Savon Martin was approached to negotiate over the will, he discovered the will for the first time in his mother’s closet and saw both witnesses were friends of his mother. One of them died already in sleep; Cindy Lockwood. The original plan was to eliminate one witness, procure the will and leave at that. Savon Martin’s refusal made the second witness vulnerable. He talked to Laura Hudson on the phone.
There was a man described as ‘agent’ with a bald head, hollow cheeks and cold grey eyes following Savon Martin and called on him a number of times during the talks. He was a chain-smoker – the broker.
Natalia’s image on the magazine cover was shot above waist. All her images in the magazine were picked carefully not to disclose her secret. That was how he used everyone. Perhaps, Linda’s pornography was shot when she insisted him to publish the article and not during the explicit scenes of ‘Termagant’. She’d have to look at them again if she could tell an age difference.
Bad news that Enrique couldn’t obtain any of the fingerprints to make a comparison with ‘Kit’ or ‘Kat’. All wiped out…perhaps.
Natalia drove to Ashley Marina and parked right under a surveillance camera thoughtlessly. She climbed up the wharf and looked at an empty berth. The boat was gone. She entered the Harborage and enquired about the boat ‘Valor’ determinedly.
“Sailing!” replied the dock master.
“In this weather?” queried Natalia.
“It’s fifteen knots!”
“Who’s Paul Clancy? Is he a businessman?”
“He’s a captain from Beaufort!”
“Does he own the boat?”
She had gone too far. She should not actually be inside the harbour area. She retreated. Beaufort – another stone to turn.
She raced to 69 Church Street and saw the house with a side wall serenely glowing in the carroty rays of an afternoon sun.
She wore an oversize grey sweatshirt, headband, black leg warmers and red high heels shoes…dressed like Alex Owens. Not exactly; she had nothing underneath. As they reached Bay Street, wind caught up under her dress. Natalia seized the hem before her friend could notice. What a feeling! Valerie, in her usual manner, wore a green straight skirt, striped top and cashmere cardigan.
Wind brushed in the ears. At times, fluttered in the faces. They walked slowly to White Point Garden and sat down at their favourite spot by the row of palmettos. Lights flickered around and voices grew inaudible. Slow traffic and people passed in the waterfront.
Natalia and Valerie had dinner and drenched in Southern Comfort at Les Balles.
Next morning, she set on her journey to attend a ‘Circus in Corpus Christi’.