He slipped through the window.
Amaryllis grabbed his hand. Together they crossed the lawn, bugging the shadows of a tall hedge. Then they hurried to the safety of the leer, which Lucas had parked behind a large storage facility.
"Whew." Amaryllis collapsed into the passenger seat as Lucas got in beside her and activated the engine. "That was a close one. I didn't know that university security checked inside the buildings. I assumed that the guards just pa- trolled the grounds."
"You want a professional tip?" Lucas did not turn on the leer's headlights as he drove past the library. "Never assume anything when you plan a fun-filled evening like this."
Amaryllis didn't surface from the depths of her uneasy thoughts until Lucas drove through a set of elaborately designed gates. He guided the leer slowly down a narrow drive. It took her a moment to realize that he had not taken her home. She gazed around in wonder as the car wended its way through the heart of a strange garden.
Unfamiliar trees with massive leaves loomed on either side of the drive. They formed a thick canopy that blocked out most of the moonlight. The headlights revealed glimpses of exotic foliage that looked dense enough to serve as a wall. Plants with broad leaves edged with what looked like golden fringe dipped and swayed. Here and there flowers glowing with surreal colors appeared and disappeared in the lights.
"I've never seen anything like this," Amaryllis whispered. "It looks like a giant's garden. Everything is oversized. It doesn't look real."
"The last owner of the house was a class-seven horticultural talent. He used the gardens for his botanical experiments. I bought the place because it reminds me of the islands."
A colonnade of massive fern-trees ended in front of a house that was as bizarre as the gardens. Amaryllis studied it with open-mouthed amazement. Moonlight gleamed on delicate spires, fluted columns, and tall towers. The style was unmistakable. The mansion dated from the Early Explorations Period, which made it nearly a hundred years old.
The first long-distance voyages through St. Helens's un- charted seas had been undertaken during that era. Enthusiasm, optimism, and expectations had run high, and the mood of the times had been reflected in the soaring architectural styles.
Amaryllis eyed the elaborate waterfall of steps that led to the heavily carved front doors. This was Lucas's home. She had never envisioned him living in such a fantastical creation. And yet, in some strange manner, it suited him. He was a man apart, and his residence was definitely apart from the ordinary, too.
"How do you find the time to take care of this place?" Amaryllis asked.
He smiled fleetingly. "I don't. I pay people to do it. A team of gardeners handles the outside, and I have a staff of housekeepers who come in during the day."
Amaryllis blushed at her naïveté. "I keep forgetting you're rich." She cleared her throat. "I'm surprised someone hasn't tried to get you to open the house and grounds for guided tours."
"The Preservation Society made a stab at it. You know what those folks are like. Anything over fifty years old is an historical monument to them. I told them that if the bottom ever fell out of the jelly-ice business. I'd contact them and we'd talk about paid tours then."
Silence fell.
"I should go home," Amaryllis finally said. "I have to do some thinking."
"About Gifford Osterley?"
She froze. "You saw his name on the calendar?"
"I grew up in a jungle, remember?" His smile held little humor. In the shadows his eyes gleamed with watchful speculation. "I was trained to be observant at an early age."
"Naturally." She couldn't think of anything to say.
Lucas opened the leer's door. "Come inside, Amaryllis. I think we'd better talk."
"I don't know why his name was on Professor Landreth's calendar." Amaryllis paced back and forth across the high-ceilinged, old-fashioned living room. "I can't even come up with a likely explanation. According to my friends in the department, Gifford and Landreth had a major confrontation a couple of months ago. Gifford handed in his resignation because of it. Lucas, there are so many questions."
"Here." Lucas thrust a small glass into her hand. "Drink this."
Amaryllis frowned at the dark, intensely aromatic liqueur. "What is it?"
"Moontree brandy."
She hastily clutched the glass with both hands. "Good heavens, that must have cost a fortune."
Lucas's mouth curved faintly. "Don't worry, I save it for special occasions."
"Oh." She sniffed cautiously at the exotic brandy. "Well, thank you. You really shouldn't have."
Moontree brandy was a near-legendary liqueur, so far as Amaryllis was concerned. Certainly no one back home in Lower Bellevue ever had a bottle of it stashed in a cupboard. The production of the brandy was extremely limited be- cause the tree produced fruit only on the rare occasions when both Chelan and Yakima were in total eclipse.
The botanists had not yet been able to explain the exact nature of the synergistic reaction between the eclipsed moons and the tree. All attempts to grow the moontree under controlled conditions had failed.
"Sip slowly," Lucas advised. "The stuff has a kick."
"So I've heard." Amaryllis took a tiny taste--and promptly gasped for breath as a fierce rush of heat filled her mouth. The heady warmth was immediately followed by an equally luscious sweetness.
Lucas leaned back against a table and crossed one ankle over the other. "Like it?"
"It's... interesting." Amaryllis resumed her pacing.
"You're going to talk to Osterley, aren't you?"
Amaryllis stopped in front of the window. She looked out into the eerie garden. "Yes."
"I don't suppose it will do any good to tell you that I don't think that's a real bright idea."
"I have to talk to him, Lucas."
"Why?"
"Because he may have been the last person Professor Landreth spoke with before he died."
There was a clink as Lucas set his brandy glass down on the table. He crossed the room and came to stand behind Amaryllis. "This has gone far enough. Stay out of it. It's not your job to investigate Landreth's death."
"I can't stop now," she whispered. "Ever since I sensed that prism working with Sheffield, I've had a nasty feeling about this whole situation. Call it prism intuition."
"I prefer to call it a lack of common sense. I've said it once, and I know it probably won't do any good, but I'll say it again. Talk to the cops if you really believe that Landreth's accident needs more investigation."
"I can't go to the police until I have something substantial to give them."
He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. "Are you sure there isn't another reason why you don't want to talk to the authorities?"
"What are you implying?"
"I think you want answers. But I'm beginning to wonder if you're afraid of what you'll discover. Are you worried that someone you know might be involved in this?"
"Do you really think that I'd avoid going to the authorities in order to protect someone?"
"If you cared about that person, yes." Lucas framed her face with his hands. His thumbs moved along the line of her jaw. "I think your sense of loyalty is even stronger than your sense of professional responsibility."
"This is not your problem, Lucas."
"The hell it isn't." He covered her mouth with his own before she could protest.
The following morning Amaryllis was ushered into Gifford's plush offices. At the sight of her, he rose politely from behind his desk.
"Hello, Amaryllis. This is a pleasant surprise. What brings you to Unique Prisms? Looking for a job?"
"No. This is a private matter."
"Interesting." Gifford motioned toward a chair. "Please, sit down."