The Real Allie Newman

“From the restaurant business?”

“Along with all the other companies he owns.” Then he added, “Ironic, though, that in spite of all his money, the one thing he needs most of all can’t be bought.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes met hers. “Your bone marrow,” he whispered. “His only hope of life.”

Allie turned away from his stare. She flashed back to that moment in the icy Catarqui when Harry Maguire’s frantic clutching pushed her under. That was what she was feeling all over again.

THEY CROSSED the border in midafternoon, and as the car rolled over the Ambassador Bridge into Detroit, Allie murmured, “This is the first time I’ve been out of Canada.”

“No kidding? You’ve led a sheltered life.”

“Not really. I just haven’t traveled much. Some people never even leave their hometowns.”

“I guess so. It’s just hard for me to imagine. Seems like I’ve been on the road my whole life.”

“Really? Where have you been?”

“I left home when I was seventeen to join the marines.”

“Seventeen!”

“Yeah, well, I left home out of self-preservation. My old man and I didn’t exactly hit it off.” He gave a harsh laugh.

Allie didn’t know what to say, so she kept quiet.

“After the marine stint,” he went on, “I worked my way through college. Majored in criminology and law.”

“Did you go on to being a private investigator from there?”

“Huh? Oh, well, kinda. I decided to go into law enforcement and spent a couple of years with the Philadelphia Police Department.”

“Why Philadelphia?”

“It’s my hometown,” he said. “My father had died and my mom needed looking after.”

“Is she…?”

“Yeah, she had a stroke and died about two years later.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Yep, one of each. Both living in Philly, still in the same old neighborhood. A bit like the kind of people you were talking about. They’re content to stay put with their families.”

“Whereas you…”

“I cut my family ties when I was seventeen. Once you’ve done that, you’re really only a visitor afterward.”

The terse reply didn’t encourage further conversation, so Allie sat silently, looking out the window as they headed east, away from the city and toward the suburbs. She didn’t speak again until the car turned onto a paved road that ran along beside water.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Is that the Detroit River?”

“No. Lake St. Clair. Grosse Pointe borders the lake.”

“So we’re getting close?”

“Not far now. Nervous?”

“Of course. Shouldn’t I be?”

“Perhaps.”

Something in the way he said that single word alarmed her. There was warning in it, she thought. He’d turned his head her way, but his sunglasses foiled any attempt to read his expression. Too late to go back now, she thought. She decided to make light of it.

“When I was a kid and I was nervous about something—no matter what it was—my father used to say that I could always change my mind.”

He nodded, his expression blank. “Good advice to remember,” he said, and turned the car into a tree-lined drive fronted by brick columns supporting a massive wrought-iron gate. The gate was open and the Cadillac passed through.

Allie felt her heart rate pick up. All she could see so far was a stretch of trimmed lawn and groves of trees that stretched farther than the acreage around the farm back home. Rounding a bend in the drive, she suddenly saw the lake again. And then the house.

She must have gasped, for Joel simply said, “Tudor Revival, they call it. Built in the early thirties for some auto magnate. Six-car garage with Spiro’s specialty cars over there, at the end of the west wing.” His arm stretched across her face to point. “Tennis court just behind a guest house—you can see it now—and the outdoor swimming pool is next to it.”

“You mean there’s an indoor pool?”

“Yup. It’s smaller and occupies most of a separate wing.”

Huge landscaped gardens that Allie knew Susan would love edged the section of drive that wound its way to the entrance of the house. As the Cadillac coasted to a halt in front of granite steps, double French doors at the top terrace swung open and a handful of people spilled out.

They organized themselves on the steps as if choreographed. As Joel parked the car and switched off the engine, Allie moistened dry lips and glanced at him.

“All set?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You’ll be fine. And remember, you’re here to give them something. Not to justify whatever happened twenty-seven years ago.”

She was grateful to him for that and, taking a deep breath, opened the car door. When she stepped out onto the paved drive, the group of people parted as if by silent command, giving way for a tall, thin, gray-haired man grasping a cane and walking slowly through them. Allie was thinking that particular moment was more frightening than diving into the Cataraqui after Harry Maguire. Still, pasting a smile on her face, she plunged forward.

The elderly man descended slowly to the first layer of steps. “Koritsiemou, Allie. My darling granddaughter.”

Up close, she could see the ravages of his illness. His skin was waxen and taut against prominent facial bones, but his eyes were bright and alert, as yet undiminished by illness. His raspy greeting activated the others and they clustered around Allie. There was a hubbub of talk and some nervous laughter, mainly from Allie, she realized afterward.

Spiro introduced the others. First, Allie was presented to a slight woman in her fifties with a blend of black and silver hair, who was wearing a simple but expensive-looking black dress.

“Ephtimea—Effie—is the wife of my late nephew, Anthony, and the mother of my two great-nephews, George and Christo.”

The woman stepped forward and shyly kissed Allie on both cheeks. “Welcome, my dear.”

“That’s George—” Spiro gestured to the man at Effie’s left, “—my nephew, Effie’s eldest son.”

A large-framed man with the darkest eyes Allie had ever seen nodded, but didn’t smile.

“And his fiancée, Lynn,” Spiro continued.

The curvaceous blonde that Allie had caught a glimpse of as she’d walked up the steps strode into the center of the group and held out her hand. “Nice to meetcha,” she said before backing up and taking a long draw on the cigarette she held in her other hand.

Allie saw Spiro frown, his upper lip curling in a grimace that everybody noticed except for Lynn, who was brushing something off the tight bosom of her lime-green sheath dress. Allie sneaked a peek at Spiro again. His downturned mouth tightened.

He turned to Allie and seemed to force a smile as he said, “Christo, Effie’s youngest,” and the shorter, handsomer man standing off to one side leaped forward. His grin implied that he, too, had enjoyed the little scene. He grasped Allie firmly by both shoulders, planting a solid kiss first on one cheek, then on the other.

She wondered for a moment if he was going to release her, but eventually he stood back and said, “Wonderful to meet you at last, cuz. We’ve been breathless with excitement, haven’t we, George?” He cocked his head to George who’d been staring intently at Lynn. Christo burst into laughter. “George! You poor lovesick puppy.”

George smiled weakly at Allie, though he managed to give his brother a playful punch in the shoulder.

Spiro shook his head. “Boys, boys.” He made a mock clucking sound but obviously enjoyed their antics. “Allie needs more time before she has to face the family in its true light,” he said.

Christo laughed again. “Sure, Uncle Spiro, but I’m still waiting for that day myself.”

Spiro wasn’t amused this time. Allie noted the subtle way his chin pulled downward and his gray eyes flashed. Still, he made no response and turned, instead, to introduce the other three people waiting dutifully in the background.

“Yolanda, my nurse,” Spiro said, gesturing to a stout woman in a lavender uniform. She beamed warmly at Allie, and Allie responded in kind. Then he gestured for a thin, gray-haired woman in black to move forward.

“This is Maria, who has managed my home for many years. The household can’t function without her, and whatever you need or want while you are here, speak to Maria.”

The older woman nodded solemnly, fixing her small, birdlike eyes on Allie, and extended a hand. No kiss on both cheeks here. She might have known my mother, Allie thought, unnerved by the woman’s stare.

Spiro gestured last to a burly man in a navy-blue uniform standing on a lower step between the terrace and the drive. “Marko, my driver.” The man merely tipped his head at Allie, not bothering to make eye contact.

“Shall we go inside?” Spiro asked, his voice sounding weary. “We’ll have drinks on the back terrace in half an hour. Maria will show you to your room, Allie.” He ushered Allie toward the door, his palm resting lightly at the small of her back. In the doorway, she suddenly wheeled around to see if Joel was coming, too.

He was still leaning against the side of the Cadillac, arms folded across his chest. She hadn’t anticipated his parting, though realized his job for Spiro Kostakis was likely completed. Still, she couldn’t simply wave goodbye without talking to him one last time, could she? She hesitated, aware that the others were waiting for her to enter.

Joel’s voice rang out. “Mr. Kostakis, may I have a word with you before I leave?”

Spiro frowned. “Come to my study,” he finally said, and with Yolanda’s assistance, shuffled through the open door. The others filed inside, taking Allie with them. She cast another look at Joel before she was herded into the cool, dark interior of the Kostakis mansion.

LIKE BAIT TO SHARKS, Joel thought, watching Allie being swarmed by the Kostakis clan and urged inside. When she’d turned around from the threshold to look at him, something in her face caught at him, and that was when he knew his part in this family drama mustn’t end. Impulsively he’d called out to Spiro. When he saw the relief wash across her face, he knew his instincts were right.

As everyone moved into the house, his brain went into overdrive, searching for some convincing reason to stay. Then he, too, headed up the granite staircase, ignoring a smirking Marko, and went inside. The foyer gleamed with polished hardwood, mahogany and oak trim and sparkling crystal. Joel had seen layouts of the house once in a trendy home-design magazine; the real thing was even more spectacular.

He’d been interviewed for the job by George at the Kostakis skyscraper in downtown Detroit, but had seen maps of the family compound. Hence his brief tour-guide recitation to Allie on the way in. Huge vases containing ornate flower arrangements were artfully placed throughout the foyer. A winding staircase swept up from the center of the hall, and Joel had a glimpse of a black skirt disappearing off the landing above. Maria, he wondered, or Effie?

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