Heretics by Greg F. Gifune Read Free Book Online Page B

hadn’t accompanied them after all.  He’d have never withstood the barrage from Madeline’s father, and would have probably told the guy to go fuck himself, as Rip had been known to do to numerous authority figures on numerous occasions.  As he tailed Madeline through a short jog of a hallway, he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what she’d been hoping for—if not outright intended—all along.
          They walked into a small sunroom made entirely of glass.  A long oak table with matching chairs filled the narrow room, and although there was a place setting at each end and a basket of fresh flowers bookended by matching candles that served as a centerpiece, it looked more artificial than genuine, as did most of the house.  Had no one ever sat at the table, much less had a meal there, Harry would not have been surprised.
          Madeline stood near the rear wall that overlooked the backyard and the grounds beyond.  To their left was a swinging white door that led to the kitchen.
          “That’s it,” she said, pointing to a small bungalow to the rear of the house.  “That’s where Fortunata lives.”
          In the center of the backyard was a stone fountain, and beyond it lay a paved path that led over the sloped edge of the property and disappeared from sight.  “Wow, nice fountain,” Harry said, and then, pointing to the path asked, “Where’s that go?”
          “If you follow it down the incline along the backside of the cliffs,” Madeline explained, “it eventually leads to the boat house and a small dock where my father moors his power boat.  It’s just a little one but I still rarely go out in it.  He’s got another one, this giant awful thing he keeps at the yacht club.  You wouldn’t think anything could be quite so pretentious, and then there it is, staring you in the face.”
          “What does your father do?”
          “You mean besides make me want to heave?”
          “For a living.”
          “He’s senior lawyer for an architectural firm.  Worldwide corporate accounts, and big money, as you can see.”
        “Yeah, the house and—man—the whole area is beautiful.”
         “Not really.”  Madeline pulled a chair out, sat down and motioned for him to do the same.  “It just looks that way.”
          As he dropped into the chair beside her, the door swung open and a woman entered the room carrying a small tray with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.  She stopped a few feet from the table; dark eyes locked on Harry and clearly stunned to discover that Madeline’s friend had turned out to be a boy.  
        “Fortunata,” Madeline said softly, “this is my friend Harry.  Harry, Fortunata.  Our maid .”  She emphasized the last word, but said it in a tone that sounded more like guarded resentment than arrogance.
          The woman was much younger than Harry had expected, perhaps in her early thirties, and far more attractive, with raven black hair pulled back into a bun at the rear of her head, light brown skin and exotic yet understated Peruvian features that were at first glance, quite striking.  She was dressed in white rubber soled shoes and a traditional uniform that did little to compliment her rather shapely figure.  
          “Hello,” Harry said.
          Her full lips parted slowly, and eventually turned up into a smile to reveal teeth dull and stained from years of nicotine, black coffee abuse and what had probably been a lack of available dental care as a child.  She placed the tray on the table, looked to Madeline.  “This is your boyfriend?” she said with a thick accent.
        Sensing Madeline’s discomfort Harry answered for her.  “No, ma’am, I—actually we’re just friends.”
          She looked at him, the same guarded smile in place.
          “Thank you for the hot chocolate,” Madeline said.  “That will be all for now.”
          Fortunata placed a mug in front of each