Fatal Facade

by Wendy Tyson

  This time, Balzan looked at Allison as though she was mentally unstable. “Mr. Duarte’s death was ruled accidental. He fell. We reexamined the site where he’d fallen and found nothing new.”

  “I know, but—”

  The inspector merely shook his head, unwilling to venture down that path.

  “Inspector,” Jason said. “Do you think the guests at the castle could be in danger?”

  Julia translated Jason’s question, her heavily-mascaraed eyes glued to Jason.

  But the inspector looked at neither Julia nor Jason when he replied in German. Instead, he set his burdensome stare firmly on Allison. “I don’t know what to think or whom to believe,” he said through his translator. “I have a castle full of poseurs and ex pats, not a citizen amongst them. Danger? Perhaps. But who is in danger and who is a threat—that is the billion-dollar question.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Friday brought with it gray skies and rain showers that echoed the heaviness Allison felt when she awoke. Vaughn was arriving later that morning, and Jason was leaving for Innsbruck the next day. Today, however, Allison needed to confront her client—and break the news that this engagement would have to end. Safety was an issue now, and with Grace in the mix, she couldn’t risk it. Allison dreaded that conversation.

  Elle had never appeared on Thursday, holed up with her father in the castle’s south wing—at least according to Hilda. Hilda, whose absence had been felt by Grace, showed up Thursday afternoon and offered to take Grace to the pool. With suspicion fueled by recent interactions, Allison refused to let her niece go alone. Instead, Jason and Mia accompanied the pair, and the foursome spent most of Thursday in a lazy haze by the spa.

  Today, though, would not be a pool day. The forecast, unreliable at best, predicted a clearer sky by evening, but the remainder of the day would be overcast and stormy. Jason offered to take Grace and Mia into the village for the continuing festival, with a ride to a nearby town to look for a hotel. And so Allison’s family left a little after eleven, just hours before Vaughn was expected to arrive.

  Allison dressed in black linen pants, a matching tunic and a print black, white, and pink scarf. She slipped low-heeled sandals on and, with one last fortifying glance in the mirror, left the cottage. She made her way up the path, toward the castle. She’d decided that no matter what, she would see Elle this morning. Even if that meant she had to wake her—or pull her away from something else.

  Allison entered the castle by the kitchen, a servants’ entrance she’d never used, and called out to the staff. She continued through the rear quarters and toward the front portion of the castle, near the ballroom. It was there that Karina stopped her. Karina wore her dirndl today, and her hair had been twisted and tamed into a crown of braids. She wore white clogs on her feet, rubber clogs that allowed her to walk quietly through the marble halls without making much sound, and so she surprised Allison with a gentle tap on the shoulder.

  “You’re looking for Elle?”

  It took Allison a moment to regain her composure. The castle halls felt empty, the rooms darkened by the bleak skies outside. Their voices echoed in the tall chamber, but there was no one to hear their conversation.

  “Yes. I need to speak with her. It’s rather important.”

  “I’m afraid she’s indisposed.”

  “Indisposed?”

  “Sleeping one off, if you must know.”

  “Then please wake her.”

  Karina smiled. “I do not think that is a wise idea.”

  Allison was not accepting no for an answer. Not today. She started toward the front hall, where the wide staircase would lead her to the second floor and the south wing.

  Karina again touched her. This time, she laid a hand on Allison’s shoulder and squeezed.

  “If this is about your colleague, Christopher Vaughn, his rooms are ready in the north wing. I can take you to see them if you would like.”

  “I’d like to see Elle.”

  “Did you try calling her?”

  “Yes. And texting her. And emailing her.” Allison spun around. She removed Karina’s hand from her shoulder. “So please take me to her—or I can go myself.”

  Karina studied Allison for several seconds. She seemed to be weighing her next move when all of a sudden a voice broke through the tension.

  “Allison. I’m so happy you came to see me.”

  Allison and Karina turned in the same moment. Elle had just entered the hall, her feet padded in a pair of white slippers. She wore cotton pajama bottoms and a turquoise bra. Lipstick was smeared across her mouth, and her hair, often a disheveled mess, hung around her head in ropes of knots.

  Allison reached Elle first. She took her client by the hand and led her toward the kitchen entrance, back the way she had come.

  “Where are you going with her?” Karina called after them.

  “To my cottage. It looks like Elle needs some fresh air.”

  “You can’t take her out like that.”

  “What, will the paparazzi see me?” Elle joked. She clasped Allison’s arms with dagger like strength. “Get me out of here, please,” she whispered to Allison.

  “Allison! Let me get Hilda,” Karina yelled after them.

  Allison ignored her. Instead she led her client through the castle and out into the rain. The water pouring from the sky ran down Elle’s face in chunky rivulets. Old black mascara mixed with rain, painting stripes down Elle’s chalky face. Between her black-rimmed eyes and red slash of a mouth, Elle looked like a sad, twisted clown. The kind of clown that hides in shadows, and when it jumps out, its victims are unsure if it was there to entertain—or terrorize.

  Allison locked the cottage doors, front and back. She placed Elle on the couch before drawing a warm bath in the claw foot tub. When she returned to the living room, Elle was in the kitchen, helping herself to a slice of Gruyere.

  “Good, you need to eat,” Allison said.

  Elle nibbled mechanically, her bites so tiny Allison was unsure how she could taste the food.

  “Why don’t you get in the tub and wash up. I have a robe here you can wear. I think a good soak will refresh you.”

  Elle nodded. She allowed herself to be led into the bathroom, where Allison left her to wash herself. She kept the door slightly ajar, though, afraid her client would try something desperate—or accidentally drown.

  After thirty minutes, Allison knocked.

  “Coming,” Elle said.

  It was another fifteen before Elle emerged from the bathroom, freshly washed and more alert. The robe, which fit Allison just right, hung loosely on Elle’s thin frame, and Elle’s doll-sized wrists stuck out beneath the terry sleeves like matchsticks. But without the garish makeup, Elle’s skin glowed pink and healthy, and her hair, once a mass of tangles, hung down her back in soft wet waves.

  “It’s good to see a person under there,” Allison said.

  Elle nodded. “Coffee? Please?”

  “Sure.”

  While Allison made coffee, Elle walked around the living room, looking at the few books and pictures Allison had put out when she and Grace arrived.

  “The child. She belongs to your sister?” Elle asked.

  “Yes, she’s my niece.”

  “But she lives with you?”

  “For now.” Allison turned on the coffeemaker and pulled two cups from the cabinet overhead. “My sister has some issues.”

  “Drugs.” It was a statement, not a question. “Well, Grace is lucky to have you and your fiancé.”

  “We love her very much.”

  “Then don’t let her go.”

  Allison stopped what she was doing to look at her client. “I’m not sure we’ll have much choice.”

  “You always have a choice, Allison.” She smiled weakly. “Look, I’m hardly the one to tell you how to live your life
. But I grew up with a drugged-out father, and I’m as fucked up as they come.” She shrugged. “Fight for the kid.”

  Allison pulled heavy cream from the small refrigerator. Elle’s words cut to the quick, but she couldn’t think about that now. Not with what was going on. “I spoke with the inspector yesterday. I went to his office in Bidero.”

  “Oh?”

  “Sit down, Elle. We need to talk.”

  Allison carried two coffees, cream, and sugar on a tray she’d found in the cupboard. She placed the tray on a small side table and sat in a chair near the couch, across from Elle.

  Elle picked up a cup. She stared into it, seemingly intent on the color of her coffee. “What did he say?”

  “He said he knew nothing about Michael’s laptop.”

  Elle continued staring.

  “You said you would tell him.”

  “He’d have thought I was crazy.”

  And he had, Allison thought. Allison gave voice to the thing that had been weighing on her: “Did you go into Michael’s rooms searching for some proof that he is here and steal the laptop?”

  Elle looked up sharply. “Of course not.”

  “Then who took it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  The rain that had been pelting the windows slowed, and a sliver of light flowed in through the curtains. The sound of a tractor whirred outside. Allison half expected Karina to come crashing through the cottage door at any moment, looking for her charge.

  “Were you not feeling well yesterday?” Allison asked.

  “I was fine.”

  “Then why did you refuse to see me?”

  Again, Elle seemed stymied. “When did you come to the castle? No one told me.”

  “They said you were with your father. That you were under the weather.”

  “They?”

  “Hilda. Karina. Dominic.”

  “Ah.”

  “It wasn’t true?”

  “I was with Sam, but no, I wasn’t under the weather.” She tugged at the sleeve of her robe. “Well, maybe a little bit.”

  “Elle—”

  “My father is worse, okay? He’s the worst I’ve seen him. He says things that make no sense. He has tremors. I think he needs more care than he’s getting here.”

  “So take him back to the States.”

  Elle nodded. “I know, I know. He’s been refusing, but we need to do it anyway. As soon as we can leave, I’ll make arrangements.”

  The tractor engine got louder, and Allison rose to look out the window. Dominic was riding across the meadow, toward the stables. He’d just passed their cottage, and she watched as the man and the machine grew smaller in the distance. She turned.

  “Elle, we need to rethink this. You brought me here for a purpose, and we’ve barely been able to focus on you.”

  “No.” Elle stood so fast she knocked the cream pitcher over onto the hardwood floor. The china shattered into sharp tiny pieces.

  Allison rushed over. “I’ll clean that up.”

  “I can do it.” Elle clutched the robe across her chest. Voice louder, eyes closed tight, she repeated the words. “I can do it.”

  “Okay.” Allison backed off, surprised by her vehemence.

  She waited while Elle mopped up the cream and swept up the porcelain. When the mess was contained, Elle said, “You can’t leave. Please don’t leave.”

  “I’ll return the money. You can just pay me for time spent.”

  “It’s not the money.”

  “I know you’ve been trying. But the time’s not right, Elle. Surely you can see that—”

  “I haven’t cooperated. I haven’t focused, I know that. You have a right to be upset.” Elle’s eyes beseeched Allison to understand. “But you can’t go. We have work to do. You have a wedding to plan.” Elle paused, perhaps noticing the pain in Allison’s eyes. “You’re not getting married here?”

  Allison shook her head.

  “I’m sorry.” Elle sat down heavily on the couch. “It’s my fault. All of it. But please, let me make it up to you. I’ll get myself together. I’ll pay attention. I’ll do what you ask.”

  Allison peered into her eyes. “Are you using, Elle?”

  “Absolutely not. Really. I’ll prove it to you.”

  “It’s okay, Elle. I ask because I’m worried about you.”

  Elle rocked back and forth in the seat, hugging herself as she did so. “I will prove it. You’ll see. I can pay attention. I can do this.” Then, more quietly, “I need this.”

  “Elle, it’s not that simple. You have to want to change. You have to be ready for it. You have to work at it. And it’s hard, hard work—like little else you will do in your life. Because change is painful. Old ways beckon, and you have to be strong enough to ignore that call.” Allison stopped, letting that sink in. “The woman I saw earlier today isn’t ready to take control of her life.”

  Elle looked ready to argue. Instead she nodded, defeat written across her face. Defeat that served as a punch to Allison’s gut. She always rooted for the underdog, and in this moment she saw Elle—spoiled, childish, dramatic Elle—as the underdog.

  Elle asked, “When will you go?”

  “Once the police clear me to leave.”

  “That could take a while.” Elle looked up. Her eyes were watery. “Can we work while you’re still here?”

  “I’m not chasing you anymore.”

  Elle nodded. “I understand.”

  A commotion outside the cottage caused Elle to look up. Allison walked to the front door and glanced outside. There was Dominic, and behind him, Vaughn. Allison couldn’t suppress a grin. She felt like home was coming to her.

  She opened the door. “Vaughn.” She hugged him, clutching him close.

  Dominic stood by with two large suitcases. “I will place these in Mr. Vaughn’s rooms,” he said to Elle.

  She nodded, pulling the robe tight against her torso with one hand, and smoothing her damp hair back with the other. Her full attention was on Vaughn.

  Vaughn’s full attention was on Allison. He caught her eye with a look she recognized from years of working closely together. They needed to talk.

  Allison introduced Elle to Vaughn, and then she said, “Dominic, can you walk Elle back to the castle?”

  Elle didn’t argue. Allison asked her if she wanted to change, and when she refused, Allison watched as the older man and a robe-clothed Elle trudged along the path. Once they were out of sight, Allison turned toward Vaughn.

  “You must be exhausted. Come in and I’ll make you coffee and something to eat.” She headed back toward the kitchen. “You have no idea how thrilled I am to see you.”

  “I’m happy to see you too. Especially in one piece.”

  The deadpan of Vaughn’s tone stopped Allison in her tracks. “That sounds ominous.”

  “It should.” Vaughn placed his laptop bag on the counter and fished inside for his computer. “You have a bad guy in your midst.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “I’m afraid you’re a little late to the party, Vaughn. We know we have a bad guy here. That’s why I can’t leave the area.” Allison smiled, trying to lighten her friend’s mood. Vaughn was having none of it.

  “I have something to show you.” He booted up his computer, and while it warmed, he pulled a stool over to the counter.

  “So much for getting acquainted with the region.” Allison placed coffee in front of Vaughn.

  “Thank you.” He took a long sip of the hot liquid. “I imagine there will be time for that later.” Vaughn put down his cup and scrolled across the bottom of his laptop. He clicked the mouse. “Look at this.”

  Allison was staring at a picture of a woman. She was young and brunette, her hair tied in a knot on her head, the confident smile of a high school cheerleader or class pres
ident plastered across a pretty, freckled face. This was a young woman with a promising future ahead of her. Only the words below her photo told another story. The person in the picture was dead. Her body, discovered by a passerby, had been tied to a pole under a bridge, her torso covered by a sheet, only her delicate hands visible.

  The online newspaper was the London Gazette, but the article wasn’t recent. “This is old.” Allison looked up at Vaughn. “I don’t understand.”

  “Keep reading.”

  Allison bent closer to the computer to read the fine print. Amelia Dabbs, formerly of London, found dead after sexual assault. “Okay?”

  “Now scroll down and read the last paragraph.”

  As Allison read the words, her eyes widened. “Douglas?”

  “Douglas Alden, formerly of London. Dating one Amelia Dabbs.”

  Allison sank onto a stool. She read the entire article, her heart heavy. “It says here he was acquitted.”

  “Keep reading. He was acquitted on a technicality.”

  When Allison was finished scanning the piece, she pushed the laptop back. “I assume you have more?”

  Vaughn nodded. “Jamie sent this to me last night, while I was sleeping on the plane. He pulled up a number of articles on Douglas. I’ll email them to you.”

  “Rape. Suffocation. Involuntary manslaughter.” Allison ran a hand through her hair, thinking. According to the article, the prosecution alleged that Douglas had raped his girlfriend while she was bound during a sex game gone wrong. She died. He moved her to a public location to make it look like a random act. He denied everything. In the end, he got away with it—whatever it had been. “How did Jamie connect Douglas to this woman?”

  “Mia. She remembered where she’d seen Douglas’s face in the middle of the night last night. She’d read about him in the news. She wasn’t positive, though. She didn’t want to alarm you.”