Jackal Read online

  “How long did you say the Avenue is?” Sarah asked.

  “A little over thirty miles. But there are lots of interesting spots along the way. I’ll tell you all about them as we get to each location.”

  “Why skimp on the information? Inquiring minds want to know,” Iris protested.

  Sonia rolled her eyes with irritation. “I’m not skimping. But it’s silly to tell you about it ahead of time only to repeat it when we get there. Sarah, you have no idea how lucky you are to live far away from this ogre.”

  Sarah laughed. “I’m enjoying her input.”

  “Only because you don’t have to live with it all the time.”

  “C’mon, Sonia, it’s not like we live together, for crying out loud.”

  “Dealing with you at our book club, golf, church charities, and bridge is more than enough.”

  Sarah smiled. “C’mon you guys, you love it, and I’m thrilled to be reliving our years together. It makes me realize how much I’ve missed it.”

  “Anyway, these huge trees that line the road are called Coast Redwoods.”

  “Look at this,” Iris said, indicating the views in every direction. “Isn’t it gorgeous how this road winds along the Earl River?”

  “How did you figure out it was the Earl River,” Sonia asked.

  “There was a sign back there. You’re not the only one who can read.”

  Stunned by the beauty that surrounded them, the three remained silent a long while.

  Sonia broke the spell. “Iris, the famous tree house is coming up.”

  “Oh,” Sarah said, “that should be fun.”

  Iris pulled off the road and followed the signs into a parking area. The simple act of emerging from the vehicle, stretching their arms and legs while they inhaled the forest air, invigorated them all.

  “What a fabulous place,” Iris said.

  Sarah pointed. “Looks like it’s that way.”

  As they approached the house, Sonia took the lead. “This famous tree house was built within a giant redwood.”

  “We can see that, Miss Smarty Pants.” Iris threw her arm around Sonia and kissed her on the cheek. “I do love you. It baffles me as to why, but God help me, I do.”

  Sonia kissed her back. “Me too, Miss Irritating.”

  Sarah threw her arms around her two friends. “And I love you both.”

  They made their way into the house through the hollow trunk, and found themselves inside a cavernous room.

  “A living tree…” Sarah whispered.

  “Yep,” Sonia said. “The original cavity was caused by a forest fire, and the Native Americans and trappers used it as shelter for years. In the early twentieth century a man named McCleod came in here and carved out the room. Amazing, huh?”

  They toured the surrounding area, and the fresh air and nature enthralled them. Half an hour later they were back on the road and ready for more.

  Their next stop was the Immortal Tree, located in the northern half of the Avenue of the Giants.

  “Look at that tree,” Sonia exclaimed. “And it’s not the oldest redwood in the forest, even though it’s over 950 years old. It’s around 250 feet tall, but originally it was much taller.”

  “How so?” Iris asked.

  “A direct lighting-strike removed forty-five feet off the top. This amazing tree has survived the hardships of time, fire, and floods. Not to mention man.”

  “Look at that.” Iris pointed to the markers visible on the tree.

  “You can tell where the loggers’ axes tried to cut it down.” Sarah pointed out several indentations. “How sad.”

  “Not for the tree.” Iris winked. “Because obviously they failed.”

  Sonia leaned forward to examine it closely. “And this has to be the line where the floodwaters covered the tree.”

  After a half-mile hike on a self-guided trail admiring not only the trees, but also the wildflowers and native shrubbery, they were ready to head back to Eureka. Iris took the wheel while Sonia continued to read from the information booklets she’d gathered at their hotel. Sarah rested her head against the window to take in the sights and allowed her mind to wander.

  Twins

  A group of five businessmen opened the door to The Big 4 restaurant and split into two groups as Karla walked through. Taken by her striking appearance, they turned to eye her and whisper appreciative remarks amongst themselves. The curves of her alluring body were revealed by an exquisite silk turquoise dress, which she’d embellished with bright yellow shoes and a matching purse. Her hair cascaded down to her shoulders, bouncing with every step.

  The restaurant, named in honor of the “Big Four” businessmen who built the Central Pacific Railroad, retained its elegant early-California décor. Rich green leather chairs, dark wood bar stools, sparkling beveled glass panes and mirrors surrounded an incomparable collection of Gold Rush and western railroad memorabilia.

  Karla marched up the stairs, past the piano player who performed requested oldies for the patrons that filled the swanky old-world bar. An elegant maître d’ welcomed Karla. “Good afternoon, madam.”

  “Thank you. I’m here to meet Mr. McKenzie.”

  “Mr. McKenzie has not arrived yet. Would you prefer to wait in the bar or at your table?”

  “At the table, please.”

  The maître d’ acknowledged her request with a slight bow. “Right this way.”

  Karla followed him into the elegant dining room. The tables were placed far enough from each other to allow for considerable privacy and relaxed comfort. The maître d’ guided her to a table at the far left corner of the large dining room. He pulled out the chair on the right side of the table, leaving the other chair, which faced the entire restaurant, open for Daryl.

  “Would you like an aperitif?”

  “A dry vodka Martini, please. With onions.”

  “Very well, madame.”

  As Karla leaned back to examine her surroundings, Daryl approached the table. “I apologize for being late.” Daryl slid in. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

  “No. Just got here myself.”

  “You look stunning.” Smiling suggestively, Daryl extended his hand and Karla proffered hers in return. He leaned forward and gallantly kissed it, allowing his lips to linger. “Your eyes are…captivating.”

  Karla smiled politely as his gray eyes locked onto her, and then pulled back her hand.

  A slim middle-aged waiter with a competent air of experience approached the table and handed them menus. “Good evening, Mr. McKenzie. Shall I get you the usual?”

  “Hello, Ron, nice to see you.”

  “Same here, sir.”

  “To answer your question, yes, thank you. Would you like a cocktail, Karla?

  “The maître d’ already took my order.”

  “Very well.” The waiter bowed and left.

  “Ron has worked here for over twenty years.” Daryl winked at Karla. “He’s a good guy.”

  “You come here often?”

  Daryl scanned the room with a satisfied look. “My father’s favorite. We used to come here together. It’s an old-fashioned place with a friendly, modern approach to service and food.”

  A busboy brought a plate of tiny hors d’oeuvres. “Compliments of the chef, Mr. McKenzie.”

  “Thank him for me.”

  The busboy bowed and left.

  “I have asked them not seat anyone near us so we can talk freely.”

  “You can do that? Won’t they lose money?”

  “I’ve taken care of that. Don’t worry.” He adjusted the silverware around his plate, shifted the salt and peppershakers an inch to the left, and straightened the napkin on his lap. “Do you wish to begin our talk about Andrew?”

  “May I be very blunt?”

  “Go right ahead.
You’re famous for being so. Aren’t you?”

  Ron returned with a small tray and set a dry Martini in front of Daryl, another before Karla, then walked discreetly away.

  “Every time I come here,” Karla said, “I get a kick out of these small old-fashioned Martini glasses. I feel as I’ve stepped into a 1920s black and white movie. They’re the perfect size for a pre-dinner cocktail.”

  They sipped their Martinis.

  “They’re also very well balanced,” Daryl added.

  “What did you mean when you said I’m famous for being blunt?”

  “You have a reputation for straight forward honest articles about your subjects.” Daryl paused to sip his drink. “Why should you treat me any differently?”

  Karla gave him an incredulous look. “You’ve read my work?”

  Daryl raised his glass. “Let’s say that, not only do we have the same taste in drinks, but I also like what you do and…how you do it.” He lifted his glass slightly, as if to toast her.

  Karla hesitated before she raised her glass and toasted. “How—”

  Daryl raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “What?”

  “Andrew said the exact same thing to me not long ago.”

  “That’s interesting. Never thought my brother and I could have anything in common. Go on, be blunt.”

  Karla scrutinized him for a second, looking directly into his eyes. “Why do you hate Andrew?”

  “I don’t hate Andrew. We merely…can’t get along.”

  “Would you mind telling me why?”

  “No, not at all. But all I can offer is my hypotheses. He never told you why?”

  “Until yesterday I didn’t even know he had a brother. As far as I was concerned, his name was Andrew Stuart, not McKenzie and—”

  “Andrew Stuart?”

  Karla nodded and sipped her drink.

  “Andrew Stuart the painter?”

  “And sculptor. Why the surprise?”

  “It’s impossible. Really? My twin brother is that artist?”

  Ron silently approached the table ready to take their order, but Daryl signaled that he should wait.

  Karla eyed Daryl in amazement. “You mean to tell me you were not aware that the painting in your office was your brother’s?”

  “No. My father bought it about two years ago…” Daryl shifted his gaze, grabbed his drink and gulped it down. “Right before he died.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bring up—”

  “No problem.” Daryl opened the menu and thumbed through it avoiding Karla’s gaze. “Father died of a heart attack.”

  “Did he have a history—”

  “No. His death was unexpected and unwelcome.”

  “That must’ve been—”

  “Let’s get back to Andrew. You were asking about the painting and I started to tell you that I found my father staring at it one day. He told me that the painting was telling him something, and that he’d been striving to understand what that could possibly be. He never figured it out. I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

  “Your father was unaware that the painting was by his son?”

  “Completely. He didn’t connect the two, any more than I did. Mother had no idea, either…” He paused and closed his eyes. A second later he glanced at Karla and forced a smile. “Or maybe she did. Mother was good at keeping secrets.” He looked down at his menu.

  He raised his hand, and in an instant Ron materialized at his side. “Shall we order? Have you decided what you’d like?”

  “This is your rodeo. I’ll leave it up to you.”

  “Ron, please tell Chef that I would appreciate if he prepared a special, off-menu meal for us reminiscent of my father’s favorites.”

  “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

  “We’ll have Avocat au Caviar, Chateaubriand, rare, and…” he looked at Karla, “would you like wine with dinner?”

  “I’d love some. How about Clos de L’Oratoire?”

  Daryl regarded her with admiration. “An excellent choice indeed. A Châteauneuf du Pape would go perfectly with the meat. But I have a surprise for you.” Daryl nodded to Ron. “The Chanteuse, please.”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  Daryl turned his attention back to Karla. “Well, let’s answer your blunt question. Andrew always complained that my parents preferred me to him. I have no clue how that idea got started, but he was quite convinced it was true. We used to fight about it all the time. He always accused me of destroying his drawings of those darn dogs or wolves or whatever they were. He cared for them more than for me—I should say us, his family. Then one day, when we were fifteen or so, he said I’d burned all his drawings and broken his new fishing rod. He told my father I’d smashed it against a tree or something. All I remember is that he jumped me and beat me until I lost consciousness.”

  Karla noticed a subtle gleam of anger in his eyes as he paused for a moment, but he recovered immediately and continued. “That’s the last time he ever spoke to me. He changed a lot after that. He didn’t talk to anyone really, except Mother.” Daryl looked down, deep in thought.

  Karla shifted nervously. “I’m sorry to make you dig up these painful memories.”

  Daryl grinned, back in control, his eyes fixed on her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

  Unable to withstand his intense stare, Karla glanced away.

  “All that matters is that you’re trying to find Andrew. And, regardless of what has happened in the past, he’s my brother.” He took her hand in his. “And we’re going to find him. You and I.”

  She tried to pull her hand away, but Daryl refused to relinquish it, his grey eyes boring into hers. His resemblance to Andrew unnerved her, but it also filled her with inexplicable fascination. Smiling, Karla retrieved her hand. “So you’re telling me that since the age of fifteen or there about, you have not talked to your brother?”

  Daryl shrugged and looked away.

  “How is that possible?”

  “After that incident and Andrew’s subsequent brooding period, the rift in the family became too painful for my mother, so they sent him away to school. And then, I suppose he went to college.”

  “And you?”

  “I remained at home for a couple of years, and eventually went off to college.”

  “Did you ask about him?”

  Daryl’s charming stare became stern. “No. And he never ask about me.”

  “How could all of you not have seen any photos of Andrew?”

  “Have you?”

  Karla frowned. “No. You’re right. He always shied away from that.”

  “There you have it.”

  Ron removed the appetizer plates and the cocktail glasses, then gave them to a busboy. He took the Avocat Au Caviar plates from another busboy and placed them before Karla and Daryl. He removed a couple of aperitif wine glasses from the same tray. “May I serve you Chanteuse sparkling wine with your appetizer?”

  “Please.”

  Ron set the glasses down and poured the bubbly.

  “Thank you, Ron,” Karla smiled as he left. “They treat you like royalty.”

  Daryl winked. “That’s because I am.”

  “Tell me about Aldercrest. Where does the name come from?” she asked, taking a bite of her appetizer.

  Daryl beamed with pride. “The name is a creation of my father’s, using references to the lake town where we grew up. Father had a soft spot for alder trees.”

  “This is delicious.”

  “I thought you’d like it. Take a sip of the sparkly.”

  She savored the wine. “It’s perfect. Great selection.” She took another sip and licked her lips. “So, tell me, what’s so special about alder trees?”

  “These particular trees release high amounts of nitrogen into the soil, because of an impor
tant symbiotic relationship with bacteria. The bacteria grow in the root nodules, and the result of this mutual relationship is extremely fertile soil in the area where the alders grow.” Daryl studied her carefully. “Andrew really didn’t tell you anything, did he?”

  She shook her head.

  “Not surprising,” Daryl said with a smirk. “Andrew turned out to be a loner; he used to hide out in the forest around the lake for days, sometimes weeks. Maybe that’s where he is, come to think of it. That forest is pretty big, wild, and mountainous, with lots of valleys and plenty of trees to hide in. Andrew is quite familiar with that countryside.”

  “Sounds like a beautiful place to grow up.”

  Daryl turned suddenly pensive. “Everything always looks better from the outside.”

  Karla stared at him for a moment. “What do you mean?”

  “Just that.”

  “Weren’t you happy growing up there?”

  “I was. Not sure about my brother.”

  They ate and sipped their aperitif in silence for a while.

  Daryl’s mood shifted unexpectedly as he raised his glass. “The role of an aperitif is to stimulate the appetite for the meal that follows. The name derives from the Latin aperire ‘to open.’ Did it tingle and refresh?”

  “I wouldn’t have chosen those words, but yes, it did.”

  The instant they finished their appetizers and drinks a busboy removed their plates and glasses. Ron replaced them with wine glasses. “Shall I serve the wine, sir?”

  “Please show Ms. Jordan the bottle first.”

  Ron handed her the bottle.

  “Chanteuse, that’s the same label as the sparkling wine, isn’t it?” she asked Daryl.

  “Yes.”

  “I haven’t come across this wine before,” she said as she examined the bottle.

  “That’s because it’s a special reserve.” Daryl glowed with pride. “It’s our wine.”

  “Yours?” Karla returned the bottle to the waiter.

  “My grandfather went into the wine business right after Prohibition. He started with several vineyards around the lake, which we still own. My father expanded what was already a lucrative business into a corporation when we moved to Napa and acquired more vineyards.”