Page 74 of Her Dark Lies

“I’m glad you chose it. It’s always been one of my favorites,” Brice says. “It was my mother May’s sitting room at one point.”

Brice glances once more at his phone, a reminder of how important he is, how many more pressing matters he has to handle, before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. Going along. He is easier than his wife today, more mellow. Jovial, almost. On the way up here he’d been downright chatty, pointing out paintings and tchotchkes. He is proud of his things, proud of his life, proud of his unique history. Harper sees her opportunity, butters him up.

“Your home truly is outstanding. Thank you so much for having us. And I really appreciate you doing this.”

“We’re happy to have a chat, Harper. It was kind of you to think of us,” Ana replies, smooth as silk, and Brice nods, smiles. “We ready to go?”

“Almost. One more second.”

“What’s the agenda here?” he asks.

Harper finishes straightening the screen. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like to shoot some photos as we do the interview. It allows me to talk with you instead of just firing questions at you. In my experience, it ends up being a more natural interview. Are you willing to let me do that? Tape this, so we can have a conversation?”

“Certainly,” Ana replies. “Just so you’re aware, we’ll need to wrap by 4:00 p.m. There are still things that need to be dealt with for the rehearsal dinner.”

“Right. We’ll be done well before that. This won’t take long.”

No. Not long at all.

Harper gets them set in the chairs she’s picked out—dark wood frames with deep red velvet coverings, so regal—and takes a few last test shots. She adjusts the lights. Picks up her phone. Clears her throat. Tries not to wither under Ana’s impenetrable gaze.

“Excellent. Let’s do this.”

Snap. Snap.She checks the result in the screen.

“Chin up, please,” she murmurs, and Brice squares off to the camera. She checks again.

“There it is. Perfect. I’d like to talk a bit about your family history. Is it true your grandmother Eliza was friends with Gellhorn and Hemingway?”

Brice’s smile shows his dimples. “She was. An amazing woman, Eliza. Started as a Parisian model, but when the war began, she stepped to the other side of the camera and turned war photographer. Before that nasty incident with Franco’s Guarda, she was on the lines with Hemingway and Gellhorn. We have letters, notes, a few discreet photos of the three of them she mailed to my grandfather. Of course, in the end, the Guarda took her cameras and ruined the remainder of the footage. She fought them all the way. She was a rare woman.”

“She sounds like it. And her husband, your grandfather William Compton, he’s the one who bought the Villa and restored it?”

“Yes. They fell in love with the views, the people, and decided to buy the Villa and fortress. He started the restoration in 1938, and we’ve been slowly improving it to modern standards since. My dad, Will Compton—”

“The cinematographer.”

“Yes. You’ll want to talk to him this weekend—he’s a fascinating man. He ran with an exceptional crowd and continued the artists’ colony so his friends could enjoy the island as well. It became quite an exclusive invitation.”

“I would like to talk to him. What happened to his wife? Your mother?”

Harper feels the tension bubble off them. Don’t lose them yet...

“Sorry, none of my business.”

Ana replies instead of Brice. “May died, tragically. An accident in one of the grottos. The tide rose quickly and she wasn’t able to get out.”

“That’s so sad. I’m sorry to hear it. And you took over the magazine from her, Mrs. Compton?”

“I did. May startedEndless Journeywith Eliza’s photographs. It had grown, obviously, but I wanted it to be a household name. I tried to continue their legacy in the only way I knew how, by sharing their vision with the world.”

“It’s a great magazine. We always had copies growing up. My dad had a subscription for his doctor’s office, but he had to have five copies at a time because people walked off with them.”

There, a rare, sweet smile from Ana. Harper depresses the shutter before it flees.

Snap.Got you. You’re human after all.

“And Eliza Compton, she died here on the island as well, didn’t she? A hunting accident?”