Fatal Facade

by Wendy Tyson

  And I would have been alarmed, Allison thought. “I imagine this is what the Italian police have. But why haven’t they arrested Douglas?”

  “They probably don’t have enough to pin his wife’s death on him. Even with the bolt Jason found.”

  Allison nodded. The path was used by many hikers and alpinists, not just those that stayed at the castle. While seemingly unlikely, it was possible that someone else had rigged Shirin’s fall. Or that the bolt was a coincidence—left behind by an errant hiker.

  “Well, you’re just the bearer of good news.”

  Vaughn laughed. Allison liked the sound of his laugh. He took a gulp of coffee, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood. “Jamie sends his love.”

  “And Angela?” Allison smiled.

  “And Angela.”

  “Was there anything else?”

  “Probably, but I’m tired and not thinking straight.” Vaughn’s eyes softened. “Is Mia around?”

  “She went into the village with Jason and Grace. There’s a festival going on.”

  Vaughn’s face fell. “Yeah, I saw the people all dressed up when I drove through. Mind if I take a rest?”

  “Please do. I’ll walk you up to the castle.”

  “I was thinking maybe I could just crash here.”

  “Of course. You can take Grace’s room.”

  Once Vaughn was napping, Allison returned to the living room and pulled out her own laptop. She thought about Douglas Alden and his ties to Pay It Forward. While acquitted, he had been the prime suspect—and all but jailed—for the rape and death of his lover. Now his wife was found dead. What would a legitimate business be doing with someone like Douglas on its board? Was it simply because of the connection between Shirin and Damien? Or was there another reason the foundation wanted Douglas Alden?

  Two deaths. One rapidly deteriorating rich man. A surprise son. A ransacked bedroom. And a whole lot of creepy. What next?

  Thunder boomed overhead.

  Allison rose to close the windows. The air was heavy with moisture, the sky black and purple. Lightning shot through the sky.

  I guess a hell of a storm is next, Allison thought. And after that…who knows.

  Mia, Jason, and Grace hustled into the cottage two hours later, wet and laughing. The laughter died the second they eyed Allison and Vaughn sitting around the kitchen counter, their computers and papers spread before them, faces drawn in deep concentration.

  Jason slammed the door shut against a driving wind. “Looks like you two have been having fun.” He strode the ten steps across the living room to kiss Allison and shake Vaughn’s hand. “I take it Allison has roped you into what’s been going on.”

  “I wouldn’t call it roping, exactly. I’m generally a willing accomplice.” Vaughn stood, unfolding his six-foot-plus form, and nodded to Mia. She, in turn, smiled and quickly disappeared into a bedroom with Grace.

  “I guess you guys had a nice time?” Allison asked.

  “We did. Grace got to see people in local dress, she tried some interesting foods—including stinging nettle dumplings, which she loved, by the way—and we did some shopping.” Jason pointed to a bag on the couch. “Grace wanted a Dirndl like Karina’s.”

  Allison smiled. “Thank you for taking her.”

  “Pleasure.”

  Jason poured himself some coffee. While in the small kitchen, he said casually, “I also stopped by the police station to speak with Balzan while in town.”

  Allison looked up. “Oh…and?”

  “He wasn’t there. But his translator was.”

  Remembering the way Julia had ogled Jason, Allison assumed she’d opened up. Allison said as much.

  “I wouldn’t say she was an open book, but she did let a few things slip. When I asked her if the inspector was following up on Michael’s whereabouts the night Shirin died, she said should couldn’t speak about it, but ‘things are coming together.’”

  “Meaning they have their suspect?”

  Jason placed his coffee cup on the counter and walked behind Allison. He rubbed her shoulders as he said, “That’s how I took it. She wouldn’t say more, but if I had to guess, I’d say they aren’t taking Elle’s concerns very seriously.”

  “So what are they doing?”

  “She didn’t say much more than that. When I pressed, Julia said, ‘the inspector believes history has a way of repeating itself.’” Jason kissed the top of Allison’s head and returned to his coffee.

  “Which also makes me believe they have someone in mind.”

  Vaughn said, “We think we know who that someone is.”

  Allison pulled up one of the pieces on Douglas Alden. She spun her laptop toward Jason. “The husband.”

  “Why is it always the husband?” Jason stared at the screen. His jaw clenched as his eyes scrolled down the screen. “Well he sounds like a real peach. Why did Shirin marry him, and why the hell does Sam Norton’s foundation have someone like that on the board?”

  “Good questions.” Vaughn tapped away at his computer. “I may have found something that sheds light on the reasons. I’ve been researching Douglas’s work history, and Jamie’s been diving into his background as well as Shirin’s. We already know that Shirin Alden was Damien’s cousin, and Damien and Sam went way back. It looks like Shirin’s family and Douglas’s went way back too. May explain why she married him, despite what happened to his girlfriend.” Vaughn paused. “Give me a second and I’ll send you a summary.”

  Allison doubted anything that connected the two families could explain the marriage. While they waited, Allison checked on Grace and Mia. She found them both asleep in the privacy of Grace’s small room. Her niece’s face was a vision of peaceful innocence, and her head was nestled against Mia’s shoulder. A copy of Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses lay next to Mia’s hand.

  Allison pulled a light cotton blanket over the snoozing duo. She returned to the kitchen to find Jason and Vaughn staring at their respective computers.

  “So that’s it?” Jason looked up, catching Vaughn’s eye. “Shirin’s family forced the marriage?”

  “I don’t think it was that straightforward. I haven’t read through everything, but it sounds like Shirin’s parents were friendly with Douglas’s family. The Aldens are considered aristocracy in the UK. A marriage to Douglas was a social step up.” Vaughn took off his reading glasses and placed them on the counter by his computer. He rubbed his eyes. “The charges against Douglas came long after Shirin’s friendship—if you can call it that—with the businessman started. It doesn’t sound like she or her family gave the charges much credence.”

  “That’s what I’m reading,” Jason agreed. “They thought it was some kinky sex thing gone wrong. Or that he was innocent altogether. That he was being punished by the media and the courts because of his elevated station in life.”

  Allison tried to catch up. She scrolled through the news clips and bullet points Jamie had sent. “An entitled sociopath,” she murmured. “But what explains his entrée on the Pay It Forward board?”

  “This.” Vaughn pointed to his computer.

  Allison read a press release from Pay It Forward dated five years ago over Vaughn’s shoulder. “Ah, so the family added funds to the trust.”

  “Yes. Apparently Douglas’s father has been interested in seeing more space and technology inventions. He donated a rather large sum of money so that the foundation could support innovators in this area.”

  “And let me guess,” Jason said. “There were strings attached.”

  Vaughn sighed. “If one reads between the lines.”

  “The press release announces the donation and says that Douglas Alden will join the board. It doesn’t mention that one is a condition of the other.”

  “But one can surmise.” Jason shook his head. “Wow. So Shirin’s family enco
urages her courtship with Douglas to better their social rank, and in turn the Alden family gets a connection to Pay It Forward and a spot on the board—for a price.”

  “What’s with the Alden family’s interest in space and technology?” Allison asked.

  “That I don’t know. But it’s something they and Sam Norton have in common.” Vaughn glanced at Allison over his readers. “An interest in extraterrestrials.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Allison walked back to her own stool and laptop. “Do we know if the foundation has given away much money for the cause?”

  “Jamie is researching that. So far he’s concentrated on what they’ve made public through announcements, interviews and the like. He’ll get the public records. More to come, hopefully.”

  Allison pulled her hair back, away from her face. Something about this bothered her, had bothered her from the day Elle requested her help. “Let’s assume for a moment that Douglas did kill Shirin, that he wanted his wife out of the picture so he could be with his lover and be free of her family. I could believe that it was a copycat incident. Douglas designed her death to look like Damien’s fall. What about Damien?”

  “What about him?” Vaughn said. “Maybe his death really was an accident.”

  Allison stood, paced the length of the room. “Possibly. The police certainly felt his death was accidental. Only Elle never believed that to be the case. If she’s right—a big if—what would be the connection between Shirin and Damien?”

  “They’re cousins,” Vaughn said.

  “So what?” Allison considered what they knew about the players, about who had been at the castle when Damien died. Douglas. And Michael. All of them really. “This is a family vendetta?”

  “The foundation,” Jason said. “Damien was on the board. Shirin’s husband was too.”

  They looked at each other. Allison thought they’d reached the same conclusion at the same time.

  “What if they had the wrong person?” Vaughn asked, giving voice to Allison’s thought.

  “The setup—a rope dangling over the edge of a precipice—doesn’t allow for much in the way of visibility.” Jason shut his computer, his voice rising as he spoke. “The killer could have expected someone else to come by along that path.”

  Vaughn said, “Someone with a connection to the foundation?”

  Allison’s heart thumped in her ribcage. “Or Elle. She could have been the target.”

  Silence enshrouded the room. Finally Allison said, “I think we need to know if Douglas did it. If he did, if it was marital rage, then we don’t need to go down that path.”

  Jason said, “But no one really seems to know the Aldens that well.”

  “I know someone who knows Douglas. I think I’ll start with her.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Nightfall came late during summertime in Bidero, although the overcast skies lingered well into the evening, lending a gloomy cast to the otherworldly setting. After helping Vaughn move his things into his rooms inside the castle, Allison went in search of Lara. She found her alone in the spa.

  Lara was dressing in the main room, her shoulders still red from the heat of the sauna. Allison watched her for a moment before going inside. The pool decks were rain-soaked, the surrounding meadows awash with rivulets of water. Standing at the threshold of the glass-enclosed spa with the doors open, Allison could hear the low roar of the swelling river just beyond the hills. The sound lent her courage.

  Allison let the door shut. Lara turned slowly. She wore a long-sleeved sheath dress and flat gladiator sandals. Her trademark hair was pulled into a loose bun, and her skin looked lightly freckled without the makeup that normally covered it. She looked young and arrogant and untouchable, and in that moment, Allison despised everything Lara stood for.

  “Did you come to tell me the police have questioned you about my dalliance with Douglas?”

  “No.”

  Lara studied Allison before pursing her lips into a smile. “What then?”

  “Is that what you would call it? A ‘dalliance’?”

  Lara shrugged. “Not much more, I’d say.”

  “Folks around here say you’ve been having an affair for some time.”

  “‘Folks.’ How quaint.” Lara walked toward the tea kiosk and poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the counter. “It was sex. Just sex.”

  “How well do you know Douglas, Lara?” Allison fought to keep her tone casual. “Were you friends first?”

  Lara laughed. “Hardly.” She watched Allison as though debating how much to tell her. Allison hoped Lara’s narcissism would win out and she’d share simply to talk about herself.

  “How did it start?”

  “Is this so you can tell that inspector?”

  “No. I’m just curious.”

  Lara put the water glass aside without drinking. “If you must know, it was just chemistry. I saw him undressing me with his stare one night at dinner last fall. Our eyes met. We shared a cigarette outside, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “So that’s all he is to you? A fling?”

  “Yes. And that’s all he was. It’s over.”

  Allison absorbed this. “Do you think Douglas loved his wife?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Did he resent her? Want a divorce?”

  “Clearly she didn’t turn him on. He was sleeping with me, maybe others.”

  “Did you only see him while here in Bidero?”

  Lara busied herself by gathering her belongings. She shoved a pair of delicate sandals into a beach bag along with a bikini and a sheer cover-up, both of which were dry.

  “Occasionally we would meet in London when I was there on business. Or if he came to the States to meet for the foundation, we’d find a few hours.” Lara shrugged. “Do you get off on these details? Do you want to know exactly what we did, how we did it?” She scrutinized Allison with a piercing look. “Or maybe you are recording this now to share with my husband.”

  “Hardly,” Allison said, echoing Lara’s earlier words. “I have to imagine the Italian police are looking at Douglas as a suspect in Shirin’s death. And by extension, you as well.” Allison felt a faint wave of pleasure at the fear that flashed across Lara’s face. Perhaps she was not so untouchable after all.

  Allison dug the knife in deeper. “You were—are?—lovers. What if you killed Shirin in a jealous rage?”

  “I would never—”

  “What if you helped him, then? What if you were merely a willing accomplice after the fact, too afraid to come forward for fear your precious Jeremy would find out.”

  “Leave Jeremy out of it.”

  “Why, Lara? Did you leave him out of it when you decided to bed another man?”

  Lara threw her bag down on the floor. “What do you want?”

  “Just the truth.”

  “The truth about what?”

  “Douglas’s feelings about Shirin. Lovers talk, men share their feelings about their wives. Was Douglas looking to get out of his marriage?”

  Lara’s face was a portrait of rage. She bunched her fingers into a fist, and then sagged down on a bench, all of her anger dissipating like air in a popped balloon. “Douglas would not leave Shirin. I would not leave Jeremy. That was our agreement.”

  “You were just having fun?”

  Lara glanced down at her flat abdomen. It was a subtle gesture, but it spoke volumes about her intentions.

  “You’ve been trying to get pregnant.”

  Lara took a moment to respond. Finally in a quieter voice, she said, “I’m not sure Jeremy can…well, you understand. It was easier this way. Douglas didn’t want kids. Jeremy doesn’t know I’ve been off the pill for years. Douglas and I had fun together. I thought…if it happens, what does it matter?”

 
“Which is why you didn’t want it rubbed in your husband’s face.” When Lara didn’t respond, Allison said, “But what did Douglas get out of this?”

  Lara’s mood brightened. “Isn’t that obvious?”

  “Not really.”

  “Me, of course. That boy is a trophy hunter. He always wants the next big thing, the next conquest. What better challenge than a supermodel, especially a supermodel married to your friend’s best friend.”

  “Who just happens to be a movie director and producer.”

  “Now you see.” Clearly Lara was on firmer footing here, in a land of dubious morals and image-driven choices. “Douglas never wanted to leave Shirin. He would have been content bedding me for a while, then moving on. He would have ended the affair. He has a bit of a sense of humor, and leaving a supermodel in a lurch would tickle that fancy.”

  Lara pulled a phone from her bag and glanced at it. “Jeremy is expecting me. I have to go.”

  Allison said, “Do you think Douglas hurt his wife?”

  Lara rose from the bench. She strode toward the spa door but stopped before leaving. “Douglas is a cool cat. He doesn’t get emotional, and he doesn’t act impulsively. I don’t think he would risk everything to hurt Shirin, even if she lashed out at him.”

  “Did you know he was accused of rape and manslaughter? Of a former girlfriend.”

  Lara seemed to take this in. She rubbed her belly absently with one hand while the other reached for the door handle. “Boys will be boys. It’s always good to remember that.”

  “A woman died—now two women—and that’s all you can say?”

  Lara smiled, but it was condescension, not joy, on her face. “Douglas was good to me. Now it has to be over. That is the stuff of the world. What Douglas Alden did or did not do in a prior life is of no concern to me.”

  “Aren’t you worried there’s a killer in our midst?”

  Lara’s well-groomed brows shot up. “What makes you think there is only one?”