Marjorie Hart and the Tree of Life by Amanda Vink

Author:Amanda Vink [Vink, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Publisher: Kaledena Press
Published: 2021-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Frank met Marjorie outside the grand house. Everyone was tired and the mood had turned melancholic. The guests were held for two hours, but it was clear that no one had a lead for the police. During that time, Marjorie was surprised Seif had not questioned her. In fact, after the first scramble, he had disappeared and was not seen again. Eventually, everyone could go.

In many ways, Marjorie felt sick about it. She had stolen something, even if she hadn’t grabbed it herself. The only balm was that she suspected the ox had been stolen in the first place—there was no way it had been uncovered only two weeks before.

She wrapped her arms around herself. It was still warm, the heat of the day having soaked into the stones around them, but she felt cold.

“What happened in there?” Frank asked when they were far enough away.

“Someone stole the ox,” Marjorie said, her voice strained and distant.

“How?” Frank sounded as bewildered as she felt.

“I have no idea.” After a moment, she added, “I met Wessaim Seif.”

Frank swore. “Can’t go anywhere without running into him.”

After a few more steps, a car pulled up slowly next to them and stopped at the curb. It was too dark to see inside, but Marjorie recognized it as the car that had dropped them off earlier—Nadine’s vehicle. They climbed inside and headed toward the nightclub.

Once they arrived, they went in through a back exit. Inside, Nadine sat at her table shuffling a deck of tarot cards. The steady rhythm of the cards stopped abruptly when she saw them. She slammed the cards down and split the deck in two perfect halves. Each rested on the table, face up. One card showed the Queen of Swords; the other, the Joker. Marjorie felt sick at the sight of the large, wicked grin of the face card.

Nadine snapped her fingers, and, like before, a man appeared from behind the curtain. In his hands he held a wooden board. When Marjorie saw the ox positioned in its center, she gasped again at its beauty.

“I want to show you what you’ve brought me,” she said, her voice gleeful, as though drinking in the success. With eager fingers, she lifted the bull into her palms and held it up so everyone might see.

“I could not let them have this,” she admitted. “This is the key to finding the Tree of Life.”

Marjorie turned to look at Frank. She could not hide the look of impatience that spread over her features. “I came here to find out what happened to my father,” she snapped, “not to seek out the Tree of Life. I can’t help but feel I’m getting further and further from my goal.”

Frank was about to respond when Nadine cut in. “Your father’s death is connected to all of this.”

“I know. I believe he had the ox when he died,” Marjorie said.

Everyone blinked, and Marjorie explained her reasoning—the shade of patina was inconsistent with what the research team in Memphis had reported, and what her father had hinted at in his letter to Uncle Charlie.

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