The Trust Read online

  Before booking six tickets on an inexpensive flight, Nick placed a call to Horatio, his grandfather’s caretaker and butler, who watched over the Palm Beach property and made sure everything was in top condition.

  “I’ll need to check with your grandfather, of course,” Horatio had said. “I believe I can reach him at the hospital.”

  Horatio called Nick back in ten minutes and announced that his grandfather had said that whatever Nick wanted to do was fine. “I was quite surprised, actually, if you don’t mind my being frank. Mr. Bell said, ‘Whatever my grandson wants, you give him.’ We haven’t had this many houseguests since, well, since . . .”

  “I know,” Nick said. “Since my grandmother died.”

  “You will all stay in the east wing. I’ll make sure that the bedrooms are ready. Three rooms, you said?”

  “That should be fine.” Nick figured that he and Phoebe could sleep together, Patch and Lia could share a room, and Lauren and Thad could share another. “Horatio, can you do me a favor?” Nick asked.

  “Certainly.”

  “If my father happens to call, please don’t mention this visit to him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Florida!” Lia said. “Are you crazy?”

  She and Patch were already in a cab going across town, in the direction of the Midtown Tunnel. Patch had simply told her that he had a surprise, and that she should pack a change of clothing. It was only their second official date, so it was more than a bit unexpected, but Patch appreciated that Lia understood the value of spontaneity. The trip was like a present that had been dropped in their laps, the chance to escape from Manhattan.

  “I thought maybe we were going to, I don’t know, the Hamptons or something,” she said. “But Palm Beach? What are we, like, eighty years old? Will it be warm there? I thought it would be freezing where we were going!”

  “It’s really nice there,” Patch said as they entered the Midtown Tunnel. “Nick’s grandfather has a pool and everything. It has these stone dolphins that shoot water. It’s kind of fun, in that old rich person sort of way, you know?”

  “Well, I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Lia said. “What are you going to do about that?” She frowned, pushing her black bangs away from her forehead.

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure Lauren packed five. Besides, it’s casual. The girls will lend you some clothes.”

  She shrugged hesitantly. “Okay, so, what, is this like some kind of preppy ritual or something? Heading south in the winter?”

  “Oh, come on,” Patch said. “I’m not that preppy.” He gave her a playful poke in the stomach.

  “Whatever, preppy boy. You’re right out of a Brooks Brothers catalog.”

  “Hey, no fair!” It actually did surprise Patch—he had thought that with his new haircut and new body, he was shedding the preppy image he had grown up with. Apparently not. “I don’t actually feel like I’m that preppy,” he continued. “I’ve always felt sort of—well, sort of different.”

  “How so?”

  Patch wasn’t sure he should get into his family history. He glanced at the cabbie in the rearview mirror. It seemed like a strange place to be sharing such intimacies.

  “I don’t really have the most traditional family structure,” he said. He explained about growing up with his grandmother, his father’s death, and his mother’s hospitalization.

  Lia’s face softened as he told the story of his mother being put away. “And you still don’t know exactly why she was sent there?” she asked.

  “She has borderline personality disorder, but it can be quite severe at times. She just doesn’t see the world the way that you or I do. Everything is a danger to her. I’ve never fully understood why she is the way she is.” He didn’t want to explain about seeing the Society’s ankh branded on the back of his mother’s neck last November, or about the picture of her that he had seen the previous night at the display of clippings about the last Dendur Ball. He didn’t want to talk about how he now was questioning her entire history, everything that had happened to her. It was part of what was making the Society thing so confusing, and what made it different for him from the others. The rest of them wanted to get out of the group, whereas Patch had an additional goal: to understand what his mother’s involvement with the group had been. He had tried talking to Genie about it over the past few weeks, but she wouldn’t tell him anything. He knew that the obvious thing would be to go visit his mother at the hospital in Ossining. He had mentioned this to Genie, but she had discouraged the idea. It was so painful for Patch to see his mother in that condition. He hated visiting her, and it was not likely that Esmé would tell him anything. Her memories were so fragmented, like shards of glass.

  He had a multitude of reasons for putting it off.

  However he went about it, though, he knew that it would be his journey alone.

  The cab pulled up at La Guardia, and Patch leaned forward to pay the driver.

  Lia took a deep breath. “This should be interesting.”

  “Relax,” Patch said. “You’ll like my friends.”

  When they got to La Guardia, Phoebe, Lauren, and Thad were waiting by the ticket desk. “Nick is checking on a few things,” Phoebe said.

  Patch introduced Lia to everyone. Phoebe and Lauren were incredibly friendly to her, as if they were Patch’s older sisters and Patch was presenting his first girlfriend to them.

  “We’ve heard so much about you!” Lauren said as she gave Lia a hug. Patch was momentarily embarrassed that he had told Lauren and the others all about Lia the day before. Patch noticed Lia giving him a slightly uncomfortable glance, but he also sensed that she was grateful the girls were being so friendly. They invited her to come to a coffee place with them to grab some bagels before the flight.

  As excited as he was to be with Lia, his mind was now jumping to the clues that Nick had told him about briefly on the phone. He didn’t know what they meant, but he relished the chance to figure it out—and even better if it could help get them out of the Society.

  Patch sat down in a waiting area outside of the security screening checkpoint. Lauren joined him with her cup of coffee, a few steps ahead of the others.

  He gave her a look that could only mean one thing: What do you think?

  Lauren laughed. “Patch, relax, will you? You did well. She’s adorable.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As Nick’s green and white cab pulled up at his grand-father’s estate, he found himself smiling from behind his sunglasses. Palmer Bell’s Palm Beach home was a coral pink beachfront palace, complete with elaborate plasterwork, multiple fountains, marble elephants guarding the gates, and columns held up by carved monkeys. It had been built by a film star in the 1930s and was known as a local landmark. Nick’s parents had always derided the house as gaudy, but Nick liked it. It was so different from any of the other houses in the Bell family, which were more austere. The Palm Beach house was fun, like a momentary glimpse into fantasyland.

  The front door was opened by Horatio, his grandfather’s majordomo, a large, thick man with olive skin, dark hair, and eyes that were a little too close together. Horatio managed the household, rather like a butler, and, in Palmer’s old age, attended to many of his medical needs as well. He made sure that the kitchen was stocked, that the pool was clean, that every inch of the house was dusted and polished by the housekeeping staff. He was of indeterminate age himself, somewhere between forty and sixty, and attributed his agelessness to the dried goji berries that he ate with every meal. The Bells were grateful to Horatio, as he had taken care of Palmer after Elizabeth, Nick’s grandmother, had died. Palmer had refused to move back to New York City, and so it was lucky that the family had someone to look after the eldest member of the Bell clan.

  The other cab pulled up behind Nick’s, and the six of them were led to the east wing of the house, where the guest bedrooms were located. The girls immediately changed into swimsuits—Lauren did indeed have a teal one that met Lia’s approval f
or her to borrow—and they went out to the pool, where Horatio served them iced tea and lemonade. After changing into trunks, Nick reconvened in the living room with Thad and Patch, where the three of them stood in bare feet on the sisal rug. Nick’s grandmother had decorated the room in classic Palm Beach yellow, and the room was punctuated by large linen couches and banana leaf trees in wicker baskets. Patch and Thad wore board shorts and T-shirts, which looked strange, as their arms were pale from the New York winter.

  Nick and Phoebe had told the others about Palmer’s challenge after everyone was checked in for the flight. They all had the same questions that Nick and Phoebe had mulled over, but ultimately, everyone agreed that pursuing Parker’s enigmatic riddle was the best course of action. Nick mentioned the missing Pollock painting and the clue of the family photos that had led them down to Palm Beach.

  “I don’t know how much Horatio knows about all this,” Nick said to the two other boys. “He might just think we’re here to spend a weekend, so we can’t be too obvious about snooping around. It’s good that the girls are outside keeping him busy.”

  “And you still don’t know what we’re looking for?” Thad asked.

  “Basically.”

  “I think that at least one of us should be at the pool at all times so it’s not obvious that we’re in the house,” Patch said.

  There was a voice from behind them, and Nick jumped. “Master Bell.”

  It was Horatio, holding a gold box engraved with images of Egyptian hieroglyphics.

  “Your grandfather asked that I give this to you. A little ‘welcome to the house’ gift for you and your friends. You may play it while you are here.”

  “Play it?” Nick asked.

  Thad took the box from Horatio and handed it to Nick, who placed it on the white travertine coffee table. Nick opened the lid as Horatio excused himself from the room.

  “Wow,” Thad said.

  “What?” Nick asked.

  “I’ve only seen this kind of thing in museums. That is so cool.”

  “It would help if you told us what it was,” Patch said, giving Thad a playful punch on the arm.

  “It’s senet,” Thad said.

  “Senate? Like in government?” Nick asked.

  “No, S-E-N-E-T. It’s the oldest board game in recorded history. Dates back to something like 3500 B.C.E. A senet board would be placed in a tomb with the ancient Egyptians—it supposedly gave you protection from the major gods. It was seen as a game of chance and fate.”

  “Um, okay, Encyclopedia Brown, how do you know all this?” Patch ribbed him.

  Thad blushed. “I was really into Egyptian history in, like, the sixth grade.”

  Thad opened the board game and pulled out the pieces from a little drawer on the side. There were nine pieces and four sticks that each had a flat side and round side. “There’s a piece missing,” Thad said.

  “Another thing that’s missing,” Patch said.

  “What do you mean?” Nick said.

  “So far, two things are missing: what you found at the beach was a missing painting. Now you’ve got a missing piece on a board game.”

  Nick sat down. “So he’s leaving these little clues for us. What does it mean?”

  “You’ve got four things so far,” Thad said. “A missing painting, family photos, the beach, though you don’t know which beach. And an Egyptian board game with a missing piece.”

  “And where does that leave us?” Nick asked.

  “This is just off the top of my head, but I think you’re looking for something Egyptian,” Thad said. “Maybe a family heirloom or something? Did your grandfather collect Egyptian art at all?”

  “I think he might have. I never paid much attention.”

  “Okay, and if he had something that was special to him, where would he keep it?”

  “In his study,” Nick said. “Always in his study. It was the only place he wouldn’t let my grandmother touch. That place is like a time capsule.”

  “So you should go to his study. I think I should go outside and teach the girls to play senet. You know, just so that Horatio doesn’t get any ideas. Besides, we might come up with another clue.”

  Nick looked up to see that Phoebe was standing at the entryway to the room. He didn’t know how long she had been there.

  “What about this?” she said. “A missing piece is keeping you from playing the game. I think that like so many things in the Society, the game itself is incidental. We can learn to play senet, but I think what Palmer’s trying to tell you is that first you need to find what’s missing, and then you can play the game.”

  “The game being?” Thad asked.

  “The game isn’t senet,” Phoebe said. “The game is getting out of the Society.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Patch, Nick, and Phoebe stood in the center of Palmer’s study in front of a large Brazilian rosewood desk. It was a dark, mustard-colored room with a deep yellow shag carpet on the floor and electronically operated curtains that closed over a large picture window. The window looked out onto the property—the pool deck, the bathing cabins—and the beach beyond it.

  “This is like a page out of Architectural Digest, circa 1974,” Phoebe said.

  Outside they could see that Lauren, Thad, and Lia were sunning by the pool and being served sandwiches by Horatio. Thad was trying to explain to them how to play senet, though Lauren seemed more interested in her copy of Italian Vogue. They were using a golf tee to represent the missing piece.

  Patch scanned the bookshelves that lined the walls, save for a small alcove behind Palmer’s desk that was curtained in a fabric that was the same dark mustard color. In this room was Palmer’s entire life, the life of a man who had always been mysterious to him. Books, awards, diplomas. Medals of commendation from various organizations. Photographs of Palmer with dignitaries. He was a man who couldn’t have been more distant from Patch—he suspected that Palmer disliked him, for he had never paid him any mind. And yet there was something strangely comforting about the room, the way that a smell is familiar. It reminded Patch of his childhood.

  “Hey, Earth to Patch. Come check this out.” Nick had flipped up a raised wooden panel on the side of the desk. In it were two buttons. Patch and Phoebe went to take a closer look.

  “Should we push them?” Phoebe asked.

  “It could be an alarm,” Nick said. “Horatio will know something’s going on.”

  “Just make something up,” Patch said. “Say you were looking for a notepad and you pushed it by accident.”

  “Prepare to be kicked out,” Nick said. He pushed the top button and the three of them cringed.

  At first, nothing happened.

  Then, slowly, the set of curtains parted in the alcove behind Palmer’s desk. It had seemed when they first looked at them that the curtains were merely a decorative element, but now, behind them was a piece of stone with some Egyptian hieroglyphics on it. It was encased in a Plexiglas box and a spotlight shone on it, as if it were in a museum.

  “Have you ever seen this before?” Patch asked.

  Nick shook his head. “He used to have a painting hanging on that wall. The usual Floridian crap.”

  The three of them turned to see that Thad had slipped into the room and was gazing with admiration at the piece of stone.

  “If that’s the real thing, your grandfather’s been holding out on everyone,” Thad said. “It’s got to be worth a million dollars or something.”

  “What do you mean?” Patch asked.

  “That’s a serious piece of antiquity there.”

  “In plain English, please,” Nick said.

  “It’s probably Egyptian,” Thad said. “Possibly from a temple. I’m not an expert, but something like that belongs in a museum, not in some old man’s study.”

  “What do you think the second button does?” Nick asked.

  Patch shrugged. “Push it and see. We’ve gotten this far.”

  Nick pushed the button and the pie
ce started swiveling around on a turntable, revealing the hieroglyphics on the back. Like the front, it was beautiful, with images of deities and animals on the glyphs.

  Patch went closer to take a look. “There’s something in the stone, a key of some sort.”

  There was a playing card–sized hinged door in the back of the Plexiglas box that corresponded exactly with a little niche in the stone. In it was wedged a key.

  “Okay,” Thad said. “That key is not part of the original stonework. They didn’t have keys like that back then.”

  “You need to find the key,” Nick said.

  “Um, moron, the key is right there,” Patch said.

  “No,” Phoebe said, “what he means is that Palmer told us, ‘You need to find the key.’”

  “And this key opens what?” Thad asked.

  “I have no idea. But we need to get it.” The little door was locked. “Can you guys open this?” Nick asked.