The Heiress’s 2-Week Affair

by Marie Ferrarella

  But then, when they’d been together all those years ago, they’d been wildly in love and very much into one another. Family history hardly mattered. In fact, she’d naively thought of them as being one another’s families. Showed how much she knew.

  “I never mentioned a lot of people in my family,” he told her. And there was good reason for that. “I figured that the less you knew, the better off you were. Besides,” he sighed, “it’s not as if I was exactly thrilled about them.”

  Some were harmless and some even he was better off not knowing. When he was in his late teens and early twenties, it had been exciting, being part of an underground world. But then he grew up and the allure of that way of life quickly faded.

  A lot of his relatives who were older than he was never grew up.

  “Does your Aunt Lydia know who might have actually had the ring?” Natalie asked.

  The valet arrived with his vehicle. Getting out, the valet—Skip according to his name tag—surrendered the keys to Matt and raced around to the other side to hold the passenger door open for Natalie.

  “Aunt Lydia’s the one who claims to have had the ring,” Matt told her as he got in behind the steering wheel.

  His sports car purred to life as Natalie’s mouth dropped open. “Oh.” And then she smiled as they sped away. It would have taken her a while to unearth this piece of information. “You know, sometimes you’re a handy man to have around.”

  “Sometimes,” he agreed.

  When Lydia Silecchia had been a young girl, she dreamed of being a glamorous movie star. But several forays into little theater groups and a handful of some rather nasty reviews had her abandoning that world after a couple of years. Instead, she became a Vegas showgirl, ever on the lookout for a high roller who could give her the kind of life she longed for.

  When she married Carlo Silecchia, he’d promised—and placed—the world at her feet. She hadn’t known at the time that the world was on loan and that he was but a struggling underling in a long, winding chain that made up the Schaffer family structure. The American sounding name “Schaffer” having been adopted by Giovanni Scarpetta when he originally stepped off the boat at Ellis Island several generations ago.

  Life for Lydia became a series of disappointments. So much so that she felt it necessary for her vivid imagination to fill in a few blanks in order for her to survive these shortfalls that life—and her husband—kept serving up. Her fantasies included building up her husband’s importance in the world he labored in until, eventually, Lydia envisioned herself as the wife of a Don much like the celebrated one she’d seen in The Godfather. Whenever her own life lacked the drama she craved, she improvised.

  How much she improvised became apparent to Natalie within the first ten minutes of their visit. Now a widow, living in a small, cluttered apartment on the good graces of “the family,” which prided itself on taking care of its own, Lydia came to greet them wearing a floor-length electric-blue caftan that allowed her to sweep about the room like an anorexic Joan Crawford.

  “Yes, the Tears of the Quetzal was mine. Beautiful, beautiful,” she declared, her eyes getting a faraway look. “Never saw anything as beautiful as that ring,” Lydia swore wistfully.

  “What happened to it, Aunt Lydia?” Matt asked politely.

  She lifted her bony shoulders, then let them fall again, and it was unclear if she was indicating that she didn’t know or that what had happened to the ring was no longer of overwhelming consequence.

  It turned out to be neither as she began to explain. “Strange things started happening soon after Harold gave me the ring.”

  “He gave it to you?” Natalie questioned. There wasn’t the remotest chance that this was true. She knew that Rebecca Lynn had tried to wrest the ring away from him so she could show it off, and he had refused.

  “I found it by my dinner plate one evening, during our Mediterranean cruise, but I knew it was from him,” she said, a smug little smile on her face. “But, as I said, strange things started happening soon after I got the ring.”

  “Strange things?” Natalie coaxed when the woman’s voice had trailed off along with her gaze.

  “Yes. Horrible things. My son was shot. I lost money in investments. That ring was cursed, just like they said it was.” She lifted her chin dramatically. “So I threw it away.”

  Matt looked at her, stunned that she would say something so absurd. “You did what?”

  “I threw it away,” Lydia repeated with a toss of her head, sending thin strands of impossibly blond hair flying over her shoulder. “I waited until everyone was asleep, then walked out onto the deck, stood right at the bow of the ship and threw the damn thing right into the ocean.”

  Natalie exchanged looks with Matt. His aunt was describing a scene from the end of Titanic.

  “You went on another cruise to throw the ring away?” Matt asked.

  Lydia looked a little confused for a moment, as if she hadn’t realized that the ring had to have been in her possession for a little while in order for the “horrible things” to have happened.

  “Yes. Yes, I did,” Lydia said emphatically.

  “I see.” Matt stood up. Natalie was quick to join him. “Well, thank you for your time, Aunt Lydia.”

  “Don’t mention it.” She regally led the way to the front door of her small, memorabilia-crowded apartment. “I must say you took that a lot better than Anthony did.”

  “Anthony?” Natalie questioned. She looked to Matt for an explanation.

  “Another cousin. Aunt Lydia’s nephew,” Matt filled in.

  “I’m going to have to start keeping a scorecard to keep all the names straight,” Natalie murmured under her breath. She caught the flash of a quick grin on Matt’s face.

  But Lydia hadn’t heard the comment. She was too busy spinning her story and enjoying being the center of attention for a change. No one came to visit her anymore. “Anthony got real nasty. He said I had no right to do that. That the ring belonged to us. That we could have been rich if I hadn’t lost it.”

  “Lost it?” Matt repeated innocently. “I thought you said you threw it away.”

  Lydia looked annoyed that he seemed to be trying to trip her up. “I lost it by throwing it away. Aren’t you listening? I lost it and then she found it.”

  “She?” Natalie repeated, even as she wondered if anything this woman was saying was actually true. Was there someone else involved? Someone who might actually have once had the ring and for some reason, lost it to her father? Someone who’d gone to great lengths to get it back? “Who are you talking about?” she pressed, trying not to sound too eager.

  Lydia’s face puckered into a deep frown. “That blond tart. The one who likes to wiggle her body all the time. I saw her waving her hand at the camera. She had on my ring,” Lydia insisted. “Just ask Anthony. He saw it, too.”

  Chapter 14

  That blond tart.

  Natalie’s heart quickened. Matt’s aunt was talking about Candace. Had this delusional woman actually been instrumental in Candace’s death by pointing out the ring to Anthony Silecchia?

  Matt asked Lydia the question before she could. “You pointed the ring out to Anthony and said that it was yours?”

  Lydia’s expression became impatient. When she answered, it was as if she was talking to someone who was slow. “Yeah, well, he was in the room when that show that talks about celebrities was on.” Impatience melted into annoyance, but it was aimed at Anthony. “He came by to ask to borrow some money. Like I had any,” she sneered. “I told him all the money I coulda had was on that snooty broad’s finger.”

  Her eyes narrowed as the thought seemed to strike her for the first time. Matt could almost see the rusty wheels turning. “He seemed pretty interested in that ring. Got real quiet, then left right after the show was over.” She ended her story in a whisper, as if she was telling the details to herself.

  Maybe they finally were on to something. “Where is Anthony staying these days?” Matt asked.<
br />
  Lydia waved her thin, veined hand around vaguely. She avoided his eyes as she said, “Who knows? He can’t hold on to a steady job, so he moves around, stiffing landlords.”

  Matt had the impression that Lydia knew, but was deliberately being evasive. Knowing her, she probably wanted to be paid for the information. Didn’t matter, he thought. It would be a simple enough thing for him to find out where his cousin was holed up these days. Scott would know. His older brother and Anthony had been fairly close all their lives. He knew for a fact that Scott’s wife hated Anthony and thought of him as a bad influence, but that didn’t stop Scott from getting together with his cousin.

  It was time to get going. “Thanks for your time, Aunt Lydia.”

  “Sure.” Standing in his way, she made no attempt to move. Instead, she looked at him expectantly. “Got a little sugar for your Aunt Lydia?”

  Instead of kissing the old woman’s cheek, the way Natalie assumed he was going to given the expression, she was surprised to see Matt digging into his pocket. Taking out his wallet, he handed the older woman several hundred dollar bills.

  Lydia Silecchia beamed. Her satisfied, wide smile seemed to create tiny fissures in the thick, caked-on foundation she wore, accenting her flaws rather than hiding them.

  “You were always a good boy,” Lydia said, quickly stuffing the bills into the folds of the flowing electric-blue caftan.

  Natalie took in a deep, cleansing breath the moment they walked out of the stuffy apartment with its aging dust.

  “As I remember it,” she said to Matt as they went down the stairwell, “you were a bad boy, not a good one.”

  At the time, it seemed expedient to cultivate that kind of rebel persona. Beneath it all, he was always the same honorable guy. Even though that brought consequences with it.

  “You do what you have to do in order to survive,” he told her, then allowed himself a momentary smile. “Was that what attracted you to me? Because you had a thing for ‘bad boys?’”

  What had attracted her, she thought, was that she believed she saw the good heart beneath the rebel act. But she knew he’d deny it if she mentioned that.

  “It had a certain appeal back then,” she told him vaguely. He held the outer door for her. They didn’t have far to go to reach his vehicle. She noticed that a couple of teens were wistfully eyeing the sports car.

  Matt hit the security locks and they popped up in harmony. “And now?”

  He knew the answer to that without her saying anything. She’d already given too much away by making love to him. She got in on her side of the car.

  “Now we’re on the trail of a killer,” she said, her tone all business. The click of her seat belt as the metal met the groove underscored her words. “Do you think your cousin is capable of killing someone?”

  He gave her question minimal thought. “Anthony has a short fuse and flies off the handle a lot, but as far as killing someone, no I don’t think so. Anthony’s always been just a lot of noise, no substance.”

  But everyone had their breaking point, she thought as they pulled away from the curb.

  “Candace could drive people crazy. She rubbed more than a few people the wrong way,” she recalled. “If he tried to steal the ring from her and she started to fight him off—”

  Natalie didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she looked at Matt, waiting for either his firm denial or tacit agreement.

  “Could have happened that way,” he agreed with a thoughtful nod. “But she would have had to really tick him off. I want to talk to Anthony before I make up my mind one way or another.”

  That sounded reasonable. “Sure, let’s go.” Everything about her alert body language said she was ready to confront this cousin of his.

  “Not this second,” Matt informed her. “Aside from not knowing where he is at the moment, I’ve got to get back to The Janus and take care of a few more things before I go hunting for my cousin. Want me to drop you off at your house?”

  What she wanted was to start hunting for Anthony immediately. But she knew that tone Matt was using. He would get to it when he could. There was no point in trying to argue him out of it.

  So she shrugged her shoulders in a careless manner and straightened in her seat to stare straight ahead. “Sure, my house is good.”

  Natalie had agreed a little too quickly, he thought. That wasn’t good. “Promise me you’re not going to go off on your own to see Anthony.”

  “How can I?” Natalie countered innocently. “I don’t have his address, remember?”

  He knew her too well. That wasn’t enough to deter Natalie when she made up her mind about something. He wanted her word.

  “Promise me,” Matt insisted. “Or so help me, Nat, I’ll tie you up and leave you in the trunk of my car until I can go with you.”

  He was probably perverse enough to make good on that, she thought. “Okay, okay, I promise.” She saw Matt slant a skeptical glance at her as he drove through the green light. “What’s the matter, Matt? Don’t you trust me?”

  No further than I can throw that great little butt of yours. “No,” he said flatly, “not when it comes to things like this.”

  “I’ll wait,” she told him, making an X across her heart and holding up her hand in a solemn pledge. “As long as you promise that we’ll go find him today.”

  “The minute I finish up at The Janus,” he said. He saw her frustrated frown. “I do work for a living,” he reminded her. “Okay, so it’s settled? I’m taking you to your place?”

  She changed her mind and shook her head. “No, drop me off at the police station. I want to see if I can get either Parker or Davidson to tell me if they’ve made any headway.”

  He remembered the disapproving look on the beefier detective’s face when Parker saw that she was trying to view The Janus’s security tapes. “I thought that you people aren’t supposed to talk about a current investigation.”

  “Today was Candace’s memorial service. I think that’s enough for one of them to cut me a little slack in the territorial department.”

  Her answer made him laugh. “You know, Natalie, you’re devious enough to be a Schaffer.”

  “Or a Rothchild.” Natalie wasn’t smiling as she said it.

  “Touché,” he replied.

  Natalie stood in front of the police station steps and waved as Matt drove off. Turning, she walked slowly inside. But once within the building, she didn’t go upstairs to the homicide division to touch base with either of the two detectives handling her sister’s murder. Instead, she took the stairs down to the basement where the forensic lab was housed and the computer techs all did their work.

  Her specific target was Silas Hunter, a highly skilled computer tech who had a crush on her. Barely twenty, the blond-haired Silas was far too young for her—even if she were inclined to date, which she wasn’t—and she had gently told him so more than once.

  However, she knew he still wanted to curry favor with her, and just this one time, because it was so important, she was going to let him ride to her rescue. The best part about Silas was that he was long on abilities and short on questions.

  He brightened up the moment he saw her walking into his small section of the room. After exchanging a few pleasantries with him and accepting his condolences regarding her twin, Natalie took a blank piece of paper from his desk and wrote down Anthony Silecchia’s name. She slid the paper in front of Silas.

  “I need an address for this person,” she told him.

  Silas looked at the name, then raised his eyes to hers. “Fugitive or suspect?”

  She didn’t want to brand Silecchia yet. “Just someone who likes to stay one step ahead of the bill collectors,” she said, plucking the first answer out of the air she could think of.

  Silas laid the paper back down on his desk. “What was his last known address?”

  “Don’t know,” she admitted.

  Silas nodded his head as if that was a perfectly acceptable answer. His fingers began to r
ace over the keyboard. Within seconds, he had Anthony Silecchia’s likeness on the screen. He’d pulled up the man’s driver’s license.

  “According to his Nevada license,” Silas read, “he lives, or lived, on Galaxy Street.” He tagged on the house number. “1589.”

  “Okay, that’s a start,” she said. He probably wasn’t there any longer. Lydia had said he moved around. “Thanks.”

  “Hold it,” Silas called after her, halting her retreat.

  More furious typing and within seconds, Silas had pulled up an entire credit history complete with several more known residences, including a motel that wasn’t too far away from the casino that her father owned.

  And very close to the condo where Candace was killed, she realized. Natalie’s fingertips turned icy.

  Before she could ask him to, Silas had hit the print button, and the printer beside his computer spit out two pages in rapid fire. He held them out to her. “Anything else?” he wanted to know.

  Taking the pages, Natalie skimmed over them, and she shook her head. She couldn’t have asked for more. The man had to be at one of these places. If he wasn’t, then maybe someone there knew where he had gone.

  “Nope. This’ll do fine. You’re a doll, Silas. I owe you.” As she walked away, she heard the young tech sigh, as if he knew that the one thing he would have wanted, he couldn’t have.

  Walking toward the stairwell, Natalie went down the list of past addresses more slowly. From the looks of it, Anthony’s residences had been taken up in progressively worse areas.

  With the proceeds from the ring—if he had the ring—he could move back up in the world.

  She could feel her scalp tingling as she studied the last address. Was he there? For how long? Maybe he was preparing to leave, even now.

  A restlessness pervaded her.

  Natalie knew that she’d promised Matt she wouldn’t do anything or go looking for Anthony on her own. She knew she’d said she’d wait until he was free, but what if waiting cost her the opportunity to corner Silecchia?