08.2 The Vixen

Natalia started driving at 10:00 from New York, made few stops at Philadelphia, Baltimore and spend that night at The Jefferson Hotel in Richmond. She heard on television that Hurricane Chantal dissipated to a tropical storm and discontinued warnings issued in the coastal areas she was going. It did landfall in Galveston Country, Texas. It was a relief. She called Teep Lab.

“I’m about to call you,” said Enrique, “You’ve got a FedEx from Mr Jeff Lonnell, Chicago.”

“Open and tell me what’s in it,” she demanded.

Enrique cut open the package. “A Virago edition with your picture on its cover, documents and a letter. It says, original copy of the article ‘Nicotine Overdose’ and a photograph of the will.”

“Collect fingerprints if you can. Then mail it to me. It’s very urgent,” she told him, “Send it to Miss Valerie Burke, 86 Church Street, Charleston, South Carolina.”

“Who is she?” queried Enrique.

“Don’t ask. I am going there in a day.”

Next day, she started at 9:00 am and crossed the Carolinas to arrive at 7:00 pm in Charleston.

“Look at you!” cried Lady Valerie.

“You’ll get a mail for me,” said 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.

Valerie uttered, “I saved the same room for you. I thought you’d love it.”

“Wonderful!” The bed was decorated with crape myrtles. “That looks damn cute!”

“How was the trip? Where have you been?”

“Lots of places and very interesting.”

“Tell me at Les Balles.”

Next day, she drove to Ashley Marina and parked right under a surveillance camera carelessly. She climbed up the wharf and looked at an empty berth. The boat was gone. She entered the Harborage and enquired.

“Sailing!” replied the dock master.

“In this weather?” quizzed Natalia.

“It’s fifteen knots!”

“Who is Paul Clancy? Is he a businessman?”

“He’s a captain from Beaufort.”

“Does he own the boat?”

“Yes.”

She had gone too far. She should not actually be there asking about Paul Clancy. She retreated. Beaufort – another stone to turn.

Two days later, she received the package from FedEx. 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 could not 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 it was?

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 Whiting 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 people as my Last Will & Testament.’ Dated; 28^th January 1981.

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. He was a chain-smoker – the broker.

The Virago magazine for August ’89 would come out on first Monday. Natalia’s image on the cover was a shot above waist. All images in the magazine were picked carefully not to disclose her true gender. That was how he cleverly used everyone.

Bad news that Enrique couldn’t obtain any of the fingerprints to make a comparison with ‘Kit’ or ‘Kat’. All wiped out, perhaps.

Jeff Lonnell’s note read that he did not reveal all there was at their first meeting but he decided to send all in it along with the original, unedited, version of ‘Nicotine Overdose’.

It was afternoon. She drove to send a postcard note to say thank you to Jeff Lonnell. Obtained maps for the road trip to Corpus Christi. She thought she could be there in a couple of days. When she browsed the maps, she realised this route was far more difficult.

On the way home, Natalia stopped at 69 Church Street. The house stood with a side wall serenely glowing in the sublime carroty rays of a setting sun.

She wore an oversize grey sweatshirt, headband, black leg warmers and red high heels shoes – dressed like Alex Owens. As they reached Bay Street, wind caught up under her dress to turn up on the hips. Natalia seized the hem before her friend could notice. What a feeling! Valerie, in her usual style, wore green straight skirt, striped top and cashmere cardigan.

Wind brushed in the ears. At times, fluttered in their faces. They sauntered slowly to White Point Garden and sat down at their favourite spot by the row of sabal palmettos. Lights flickered around and voices inaudible. Slow traffic and people passed by the waterfront. Natalia and Valerie had dinner at Les Balles and drenched in Southern Comfort.