Diane Jopliraight away that her father』s death was no act. She was sure it had something to do with the sleek black sole that she now had in her silver carry-on Samsonite. Just the previous m, before he had left the house for the airport and his flight to New York, he had e to her room and woken her up. Sleepy-eyed she had studied him from behind an unruly fringe of brown hair, taking in the old-fashioned detail of his English gentleman』s tweed jacket with the leather-padded elbows. He had looked every inch the professor that he was.
「Leaving already, Dad?」 she』d asked languidly, slowly propping herself on to her elbows.
「Yes angel, duty calls. You know if you get bored here you e and joi the Astoria in New York.」
「I know Dad, but you know how much I love New York. Not. It』s not a teen-friendly city.」 she』d said mimig the voice of a lecturing adult.
「And which city is teen-friendly might I ask?」 her father had demanded playfully.
「Em, L.A. Beverly Hills, even Boston.」 she』d joked. He』d laughed along with her and then turned dead serious.
「Ahere』s something I want you to do for me. Keep this somewhere in your room.」
She』d looked down beside the bed to see the gray box with the DHL sticker that her father had received just a couple of days previously from Japan. From that Kenzo Yamamoto who her father said he did not know. Some total stranger in Japan who had sent her father a puter sole and now he was dead. A mere ce? From the depths of her grief she didn』t think so.
「Why not take it with you? You seem quite engrossed with it? I am starting to get insanely jealous.」
「You are streets ahead, when it es to my affes. It』s too important for me to take on the road. Keep it under your bed until I e back. It』ll be safe in here.」 He』d pushed the box under her four-poster with his left foot and she』d seen the mocs with the leather tassels and groaned exaggeratedly.
「Dad, those shoes are so old school. Yiving credibility to the maxim that bad design never goes out of fashion.」
「Your dad is old school, very, very old school. I』ll leave the intricacies of fashion to you enlightened youngsters,」 he』d said smiling and kissed her on the forehead.
「Will miss you dad,」 she』d protested, playing the emotional blackmail card.
「Will miss you too. I will only be gone a few days. Bye angel. Got a plao catch.」 He』d turned around a, her last image of him was his broad shoulders disappearing through the doorway.
Those were the last words her father said to her. She had packed a suitcase as soon as she had put the phone receiver down for no other reason than the voi her head, her mother』s, tellio run. She was not to leave the house, the FBI man on the phone had said, trying to make it sound like it was for her safety. The FBI would be over to question her and the house staff.
Tears streamed down her face as she took the sole out of the DHL box and placed it within a of clothes she』d hastily grabbed out of her wardrobe. The strange black box taining the sole and the peripherals looked like the harbinger of death that it was, a dark mysterious square that held secrets she was determio get to the bottom of. Xybo had sauntered in and looked at her through doleful eyes and she』d switched it off and folding it into its traveling posture, placed it o the sole in the suitcase.
Her beloved father was dead. Her father who loved her more than anyone could ever imagine. She』d