"Gross," she said, making a face.
"Uh, well, I was only about eight when Jessica Rabbit was ..." Sam started.
"Yeah, let's stay on track here," Miranda cut in. "The point is ... we all have these fantasies, but never in a million years would I even dream of having a fucking bukkake party in front of all these high-powered players I've been covering for my whole career; I don't think I would have done that completely shitfaced. But something opened a little window into my deep subconscious and let that fantasy wriggle out into the open."
"Luc," Sam said.
"Yeah, I think so," Miranda nodded. "He's the piece that's new to the equation. He buys that big fancy house on the outskirts of town - cash - and fixes it up without anyone really noticing. He's inserted himself into high society quickly and easily, much faster than just having big money would allow. And ... " she trailed off.
"And what, Randi?" Sam said, prompting her to continue.
"And while I was there, in his house, everything just seemed so ... completely normal," Miranda said.
"Ha! How so?" Sam asked with a chuckle. "So far absolutely none of this seems normal to me."
Miranda took a sip of her water, gathering her thoughts, and leaned back in her chair, again looking off somewhere Sam couldn't see, pulling memories back into the light and piecing them together.
"That's just thing thing," she started. "The night started out like any other of these high society gatherings, people pulling up in fancy cars, valets, the doorman with an earpiece and a list. It could have been a charity ball or a political fundraising dinner at a private residence. Everyone was well dressed; I was a little worried that I was underdressed until I saw Luc, who was wearing dark jeans and a black, form-fitting turtleneck."
"Tactical turtleneck, nice," Sam murmured.
"What?" Miranda said, startled out of her reverie.
"Nothing, sorry," Sam said quickly. "Keep going. Tell me everything, every detail. We have no idea what we're looking for at this point, or what might trigger some clue to what we're dealing with here."
Miranda settled back into her memories, and again the words started to flow out of her.
"I guess I didn't realize how big that Van Hooten house really is," she continued. "It's definitely big from the outside, and it's set kind of far back from the road so I'd never been all that close to it before. But once you get inside, it's huge. I was one of maybe three dozen guests; we gathered in the front two rooms, the parlor and a big library with floor to ceiling bookshelves and a really incredible collection of museum quality art and artifacts. I'm almost certain he had an authentic Rubens hanging on the wall, marble busts and statues that were really, really old, and a few other things Viv could probably name on sight."
"There was full open bar, so people were taking advantage of that; they had sparkling apple cider, which is such a coup for me, you have no idea, so that put me in a great mood right from the start. The guest list was impressive, major local celebs and a few C-listers from the national scene, everyone from ball players to actors to square-jawed folk I'm pretty sure were high-ranking military. I try not to draw too much attention at these things, I don't want to become the story, but it's also important to be seen at this stuff so people don't find it odd to invite me to the next thing."
"Anyway there was a raw bar and the usual spread, all excellent. I kept my eye on Luc to see who he was talking to. He made the rounds and spoke to everybody, and I could tell he had the key skill of a top-tier host, which is he could seem completely engaged in a conversation while at the same time taking the temperature of the entire room and know what's happening all around him."
"Our eyes met, and he excused himself out of the conversation he was in and made his way over to me. I started to get a little flushed; he's really handsome, Sam, in a tall and dark way, and he has a ... a presence. But this wasn't my first rodeo and I kept my best big smile on and watched him approach. He thanked me for coming, and I told him I couldn't possibly miss out on the opportunity to snoop on the city's most interesting new face. He chuckled and said 'Oh, I've been in town longer than you think.' He said he's just recently finished the work on the house, however, so he felt the need to invite a few friends over, both new and old, to show it off a bit. I complimented him on the work - the house really is fantastic, very well done - and I told him I loved his taste in art, pointing to the ancient pieces in the library. And he said ... he ..."
Miranda stopped and picked her water glass to take a sip. Sam saw that her hands were shaking and she struggled to get the glass to her lips without spilling. It was the first time Sam had seen a real crack in her calm so far.
"What, what did he say?" Sam said, leaning in.
Miranda set the glass down, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then continued.
"He said, 'There are all sorts of fascinating treasures to uncover the deeper you go, and it's such a shame to keep beautiful things buried.' At the time ... at the time it seemed like a perfectly reasonable, if slightly enigmatic, thing to say about his collection, but now, after what happened ..."
"This guy sounds like a real piece of work," Sam said.
"Something like that, yeah," Miranda said. "He pointed out that I was drinking the sparkling apple cider, and I told him I was seven years sober, and he raised his glass and we clinked. He said he was constantly impressed with people who learned to keep their inner demons at bay. I told him what I tell everybody, you take it one day at a time. I asked him what he did for a living, and he said he was a long-time commodities trader. Then a member of his house staff came up and whispered in his ear, and he excused himself."
"Okay so then what happened," Sam said after a beat. "So far everything does seem normal, cryptic foreshadowing aside. How did it go from high society elbow rubbing and passed apps to a raunchy sex party?"
"That's the weird thing, Sam it just ... it just kind of happened," Miranda said.
"So Bianca just took her top off after a few drinks and swung it around her head?" Sam said.
"No, no," Miranda said, shaking her head. "Of course not, don't be dense."
"Oh, I'm sorry, how unreasonable of me," Sam said sarcastically. "Please, illuminate."
Miranda's eyes narrowed a bit, but then she shook her head and smiled. She reached out and squeezed Sam's hand.
"I'm sorry, it's just this is ... so fucking bizarre," she said. "I feel like I'm recalling this elaborate dream, but it happened Sam. Me telling you is actually solidifying it all in my mind; that was true in the coffee shop too, telling you what happened has helped me come to terms with it myself, at least as much as I can. I know it's been hard on you ... well, uh,"
"Yes, sex puns, they'll get right on top of you if you're not careful," Sam said with a grin. "Try writing headlines with such a deeply dirty mind. But I'm trying to get to the compulsion, Randi, the point where something began pulling on you against your own free will."
"Right," she said. "So he walks off and I talk to two or three more people, and then Luc comes back into the room and says, 'Ladies and gentlemen, if you'd please join me in the conservatory, we have some light entertainment for the evening.' He has this rich resonant voice and it cut right through the crowd, and everyone starts filing out of the rooms and down the hall.
That's when we enter the room with the raised dais in the center. At this point it had a stool and a cello in a stand on it. The dias was surrounded by couches and comfortable chairs, with a low tables few tables to hold the drinks. Everything is very cushy and comfortable and everyone fits easily, so I take a chair near the front. Staff are circulating taking drink orders and quickly hustling them back to the guests. Then Luc steps up onto the stage and plucks the cello from the stand and takes a seat on the stool."
"Hold it," Sam broke in. "This guy plays the fucking cello too? You've got to be kidding me. Did he play fucking Wonderwall?"
"I know Sam, believe me I know," she said. "Even at the time I cringed internally and was like, 'yeah, here we go, he's got the shark lined up and he's preparing to jump.' And then he started to play. And Sam ... it was amazing. Like feel it in your bones amazing. He made Yo-Yo Ma sound like some roadie for Linkin Park."
"At some point the lights dimmed while he played, and the room was lit by these old lamps on the walls that had these crimson lamp shades, with like the gold tassels, you know? I think they were even gas lights because they flickered a bit, like something out of the Gilded Age. But it went perfectly with the music, Sam.
And the music, the music just penetrated you, got right inside you and took you places. He had the room, all of us, soaring, then swimming through the deepest ocean depths, then crying at the saddest thing you could imagine, and then calm and serene. I have no idea what the piece was he played, I'm not a big classical person, but I'm sure I've never heard it before. He stroked out the last note and it reverberated around the room, and then faded. Nobody moved. Then he said, 'Thank you,' and the room collectively gasped - we'd all been holding our breath through the last note and the silence that followed. People stood and applauded, and I applauded right along with everyone. He deserved it, it was an amazing performance.
