Jace, one of the richest men in Los Angeles, wore an impeccable suit, white and designed with such daring artistry and precision that people would not be able to take their eyes off it, or him. He never had to wait in any line when he wore the suit, or for any table in a restaurant. Attractive women often wanted to touch it and were thrilled by its certain magical softness. Other men often felt jealous but still could not help but study the jutting shoulders, the angled cut to the pockets.

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So far there was nothing about the Lizard in any of the worn, yellowed papers. And that’s what Esma kept typing: “We have found nothing on the Lizard as of yet but we appreciate your inquiry. Thank you. Sincerely, Mr. Frank Foster and Ms. Esma Montoume.” Esma clacked away on the manual typewriter and Frank sorted through the old documents on the wooden floor. In his eight-year-old’s haste to get through the papers, Frank tore some but that didn’t slow him down.

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Through the Spanish moss and the black silhouettes of the trees Anna watched the lake. The water was a soft purple and was so still it looked frozen. A dragonfly shot across the sky. She sat on the hammock in her silky, layered dress cradling a large kitchen knife on her lap. She rocked slightly as the insects started up their evening chant. Now and then her eyes flickered from the lake to the trees to the knife. The hammock ropes creaked with each sway. By the bank a small animal disturbed the water’s surface and splashed with little hands. Anna rose with the knife and walked slowly to the path to the water, her dress dragging in the mud. The house now loomed behind her, dark and Victorian, but she didn’t look back. The animal scampered off, creating a ruckus in the low bushes.

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