Chapter 35: Sunday, Dec. 25

In which Diantha returns home, gives Norman an earful about Freddie, and a merry little Christmas is had by all.

By Alfred Alcorn

Oct 1, 2001 | It is Christmas morning, the wee hours, and I have received the best present imaginable under the circumstances. Diantha has returned home. Late yesterday afternoon, as I was fidgeting around this big empty house feeling mocked by the glitter of the little tree I managed to set up, as I mourned as never before Elsbeth's absence and as I thought of ginning myself into oblivion, Diantha came through the front door. She threw herself into my arms, she pulled me to her, and she wept hot tears on my neck. "Oh, Norman, Norman, I am so glad to see you. I will never leave you again. You are like ... civilization to me."

I was nearly at a loss for words. I couldn't exactly chastise her for being away so long. Yet I felt constrained in returning her effusions, as for me there is a very thin line between certain kinds of affection and darker, more palpable feelings. I did manage to gaze smilingly into her large moist eyes and express both great joy and great relief that she had returned safely.

"Let's have a cup of tea," she said, and I'll tell you everything. I want one of your English cups of tea, real tea out of a pot with milk and sugar. You know, the way you learned to drink it when you were in ..."

"Jesus," I said, "Jesus College, Oxford."

So we retired to the kitchen while Diantha, perched on a stool, looking the worse for wear, to judge from the dark circles under her eyes, told me what she had been doing.

"Well, you were there ..."

"Yes. It was like a fortress of sorts," I said, keeping my remarks neutral as I got the electric kettle going. "Eccentric, to say the least."

"You don't know the half of it. I mean he's got these killer guard dogs and some really creepy looking guys hanging around. And all sorts of secret rooms."

"I see." Though it was Diantha, my stepdaughter, I had already started taking mental notes. "But what happened? I mean to send you home like this?"

"Well, at first, Freddie was all sweetness and light. Walks in the woods and philosophizing. He said you need to lead the Nietszchean life or none at all. You heard him go on about Hitler. I mean the guy is obsessed. He talks about how you have to live life on the edge, all that sort of stuff. He's into filmmaking. He kept bugging me about that Corny Chard tape. He said he'd use muscle if he had to get it back. He says he paid big time for it."

I poured hot water into the pot to scald it. Then I ladled in two heaping teaspoons of good loose tea before filling it with the water, which I had brought to a boil. I sighed, shook my head. "You really shouldn't have told him."

"I know. But at first, he comes on like a regular guy. He wanted to know all about you. Then, you know, like, you have a joint and start talking. I was just kind of bragging. About you."

I smiled, flattered in an odd way. "Does he use drugs?"

"To put it mildly. He's into them. I mean big time."

"Do you think he sells drugs as well as uses them?"

"I couldn't swear, but I think he does. One night, when I couldn't sleep, I wandered into this place that leads off from a bookcase that's really a door on the second floor behind the fireplace. It was like something out of a movie. I was looking for something to read. I pulled out 'Northanger Abbey,' you know, I've always liked Jane Austen, and the bookcase kind of went in. Then it just opened, right into a dark passage. It was really creepy with no lights. I went down to the kitchen and got a flashlight. I went in, I don't know how far, maybe fifteen feet and just as I got to this big vault-like door cut into solid rock, lights started flashing. Freddie and two of his creeps showed up with guns and dogs. I couldn't believe it. Freddie was really pissed. He accused me of snooping. I told him that was bullshit. I told him I went up to the bookcase to look for a book because I couldn't sleep. I said when I pulled out a book the bookcase started to swing open."

"Did he believe you?"

"He didn't have any choice. Besides, I was telling the truth. But I think he deals and I think that's where he keeps his stash."

"On a large scale?"

"I think so. Now that I think of it. He was always getting beeped on his cell phone, then he'd go and use a special phone that probably had some kind of scrambler on it. Then some creepy looking type would show up and they'd go upstairs."

"And he uses drugs himself?"

She shook her head to indicate incredulity. "You wouldn't believe it."

"Too much for you?"

She sipped her tea. "I don't mind doing a joint, you know, to get things going or slow things down, but he is really into heavy stuff."

"Cocaine?"

"Cocaine. Opium. Ecstasy. You name it. It was everywhere."

"So when did things start to go ... bad?"

"Some friends showed up. Business associates, he called them. Real scaggy types. They had girls with them. I think they were hookers. That's when the handcuffs and the whips came out. You know, dog collars and chains."

"Was Celeste Tangent there?" I tried to sound casual.

"Yeah ..." Her voice got wistful. "They have a thing."

"They?"

"Freddie and Celly. We all had a thing."

"The three of you?"

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