Ella
The Lodge was a shadowland of shapes and impressions, nothing starkly defined but off-putting, with things appearing and disappearing out of nowhere.
The women were back with Flora leading the way, still in animated lecture mode, obviously intent on completing her tour of the premises.
Ella looked bored and desperate but brightened when she spotted me.
"Good, you're back," Harold said to his wife, "You might want to give Scott the same tour."
"If you don't mind, Harold," I quickly interjected, "I'd like to get some air and explore the beautiful gardens Ella and I saw from the parking lot. Do you mind?"
"No, of course not, Scott—make yourself at home."
"There's just low-level accent lighting along the paths," Flora cautioned, "Maybe I should accompany you."
"Naw, Ella and I will be fine—we'll just stay on the lighted path. Guess I'm used to being outdoors and now indoors feels cramped."
I guided Ella away before either of them could suggest another plan. I was dying to know what Flora said to Ella when they were alone.
It was actually very beautiful in the garden. There was a brisk night wind and the sky was full of bright clouds racing.
We walked away from the lodge until I was sure we were out of earshot and completely alone before I motioned for her to stop.
I was about to ask her about her conversation with Flora when she suddenly put her arms around me and kissed me . It was a long kiss that left me breathless.
"Well, that was a pleasant surprise," I smiled.
"What—wasn't that why you invited me into the garden?" she asked innocently.
"I was eager to get away from Harold so we could be together alone—so, I guess this was a perfect opportunity."
"You managed to avoid Flora tagging along—I must say, she seems very taken with you."
"Not as taken as I am with you," I laughed, caressing her cheek, but I could feel her mysterious fire at the tips of my fingers and stepped back so I could control my feelings.
"If you're wondering about our conversation, she didn't say much that was significant," Ella pouted, "just went on and on about the Lodge and asked questions about you."
"What kinds of questions?"
"She seemed mainly interested in your family and background. I think she pretty well concluded you weren't from good Loyalist stock but your roots were British so that was passable. It's weird the way these people are obsessed about their heritage."
"I think it's all they've got to justify their claim to distinction."
"I don't think any of the people here are likely to be your killer—they're all flabby businessmen and preoccupied with investments."
"I think you may be right. Maybe I'm going down a wrong path looking for a killer—maybe the best I can hope for is a connection."
"You think one of these men hired someone to do their dirty work?"
I sighed. "I wouldn't put it past them. Wherever you see privilege and tradition, there's bound to be some who see it being threatened."
"Enough to kill for it?"
I stared deep into dark eyes. "That's exactly what I'm thinking. That's what Orwell wrote—he who controls the past, controls the future. Someone sees their way of life changing and their customs slipping through their fingers. They want to eliminate that threat forever."