even a parking ticket. It was too clean. News articles hinted at a checkered youth - partying, pot and the like - so I assumed his father had lawyers to expunge any trace of wrongdoing from his son’s record. People with checkered youths and lots of money rarely turned out to be saints, as Samuel’s record showed him to be.
I was about to give up when one last article caught my eye. It showed a color photograph of Samuel and a gorgeous, very Gothic woman. The caption read, “Samuel Porter and companion Elizabeth Hardgrave entering the St. Louis Art Museum for the premiere of the Caribbean Art Showcase.” I wondered if this was the same Elizabeth Ms. Carmen had referred to. I read the article, dated six months ago, to discover the event wasn’t just an opening of a special exhibit but also a fundraiser to help expand the museum.
My jaw dropped at the name of the museum curator. Alexis Carmen. Could this be a coincidence? Doubtful.
I called Ms. Carmen.
“Elena, have you found my daughter?” she asked as soon as I said my name.
“No, but I have a question for you. Do you know someone named Samuel Porter?”
“The name sounds familiar.” She paused. “Yes, I met him once, about six months ago. He was at a fundraiser at the art museum. I work there. He was very interested in a map I lent for the display. He wanted to buy it, but I would never sell it. He threw out some exorbitant numbers, but I don’t need the money, and refused.”
“What was the map of?” I asked.
“It shows the route of one of Ponce de Leon’s lesser known expeditions, and supposedly the real location of the Fountain of Youth.”
“The real location?”
“Most legends say it is in Florida, but other stories put it somewhere around the Yucatan Peninsula and the Gulf of Honduras.”
I wrote that down. “Did you meet the woman he was with that night?”
“No, but I saw him with her later in the evening.”
“Do you know her name?”
“No, I’d never seen her before and haven’t since. What does this have to do with Courtney?”
“Ms. Carmen, are you telling me you didn’t read the articles about the premiere?”
“I glanced at them, but I’m not interested in what reporters have to say about my museum.” She said reporters as if it were a dirty word.
She sounded sincere, so I let it go. “Her name is Elizabeth Hardgrave. Do you think it could be the same woman you overheard your daughter mention?”
“I don’t know, now that you mention it, she did look Goth, yet more elegant than my daughter dresses. It could be, but I really can’t be certain.”
“Thank you, Ms. Carmen. I won’t take any more of your time right now.”
CHAPTER NINE
I decided on black jeans and a fitted royal purple T-shirt for the bird watching outing. I kept my makeup simple with black eyeliner and deep red lipstick, hoping Vittorio would be less likely to kiss me if my lips were painted. I was probably wrong, but a girl could dream.
I sipped my third cup of coffee when a knock on the door startled me. I opened it to find Vittorio, exactly on time.
He wore a pair of dark jeans and an untucked black T-shirt. It was plain, but still managed to look expensive. I wanted to touch it to feel what it was made of, but knew that was a bad idea if I wanted to maintain control over myself.
Had it not been for the long, thick hair he had pulled back into a braid, he would have looked normal; well, as normal as a man that tall with the face of a god can look, that is. As had become the norm, my heart skipped a beat or five when I saw him.
“Elena.” He greeted me with the now customary arm stroke and kiss on the back of the hand. “Even dressed down you look stunning.”
My face burned. “Thank you.” I looked down shyly, a foreign movement to my body. I had never been shy.
“Are you ready for your first bird watching lesson?”
“You better believe it.” At least I sounded more confident than I felt.
We walked outside to a freshly waxed black Ferrari California.
He opened the passenger door and held my hand as I sank down into the supple black leather seats, inhaling the warm scent of leather that enfolded my body. I sighed contentedly. This was so much nicer than my beat up Corolla. “I bet this