“Claire Brady, we’re going to have a little talk,” Shawn scolded as he went after her.
“We may look like sluts, but we know who is one,” Abby said to Chelsea. “Kelsey Silviera.”
“Did you say Silviera?” John said, catching the end of Abby’s statement as he entered.
“Yep,” Abby said. “Why?”
“Shane called on my way back, and the prints matched an Emilio Silviera,” John said as he pulled his iPad from the side table. “He’s emailed all the stats.”
John turned on his iPad and checked his email. There was indeed an email with the subject “Silviera.”
The image of Emilio Silviera popped on the screen with a series of mug shots. There were at least eight different photos with long hair, short, bearded, mustachioed, and on and on… each with a different alias. But one thing was sure: he was Kelsey Silviera’s brother.
“His record’s a long one across the board,” John said, scanning the report.
“Unbelievable,” Chance said, stunned.
“Petty larceny, male prostitution, sales of coke and heroin, and attempted murder,” John continued.
“This time he got it right,” Jackson said flatly.
Abby touched Jackson’s shoulder, and he clasped her hand.
“But cyanide, John?” Marlena asked. “How would he get that?”
“He worked on the Kasagians’ yacht, right?” John asked.
“He’s actually Gemma’s driver,” Abby said. “But all the permanent help live on the yacht.”
“Cyanide is commonly used for fumigating ships,” John said. “And I’ll bet they have a boatload.”
“WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?” JACK BEAMED AS HE VIDEO-chatted with Abby. Abby sat on the dock amid a sea of policemen, as Emilio and Kelsey were led down the gangplank in handcuffs. Kelsey was in tears, but her brother was stone-faced.
“I didn’t do anything,” Kelsey pleaded to Abby as she was taken to a waiting police car. “I didn’t know.”
Chelsea was at Abby’s side and watched as the door shut on the girl who’d trusted too many people.
“I don’t know why, but I believe her,” Chelsea said as the car drove off, sirens blaring.
“I don’t know why, but I believe her too,” Abby admitted. “But she gave Olivia Gaines those pills laced with cyanide.”
“What, Abs?” Jack said, bringing Abby back to his image on the mobile.
“We need to talk to John, Dad,” Abby said. “Tell Mom I’ll get back to you later.”
“Will do, but you’re just spectacul—”
Jack was flummoxed as Abby hung up the call.
Tourists and locals went back to lounging on their yachts, drinking rosé, and soaking up the sun. The sounds of music and laughter filled the harbor, but Chelsea and Abby didn’t feel like partying.
“Thank God this happened before the president got here,” one of the Kasagian crew members muttered as he headed back onto the yacht.
“Yep, hate to spoil a good party.” Chelsea sighed.
Jackson, Chance, and Charley stood on the terrace of the Churchill Suite, watching the arrest of their mother’s killer in the distance. From their vantage point, they could see the police on the deck of the K, slapping the cuffs on Kelsey and Emilio, and Gemma stomping around as if they’d spilled red wine on her Persian carpets. They watched the police cars as they caravanned to the station, only several blocks away.
“I always hated supplements,” Charley said sadly as they saw the cars pull into the station. “But if I’d taken those, Mum might still be here.”
“And you’d be gone, Little Sis,” Jackson said.
“I know you miss having a mummy,” Chance said as he kissed her on top of her shining brown mane. “But we’ll fill in.”
Charley stared at her brothers. “Did you both know I’m adopted?”
Both Jackson and Chance looked at her as if she were crazy. But before they could question it, John appeared from the living room.
“In case you’re interested, there’s a CNN crew at the police station, and Emilio’s asked to make a statement.”
Not sure they wanted to hear him, the siblings still were drawn to the television like magnets.
Shawn cradled Belle, and John wrapped Marlena in his arms as Claire sat fiddling with her newly painted toenails, oblivious to the drama unfolding on international television.
Emilio, unemotional but strong, faced the cameras and pleaded for his sister’s release.
“My sister had nothing to do with the murder of Olivia Gaines, except for being my motivation for doing it.” He continued as nearby Kelsey choked on her tears, “I will plead guilty to all charges and take lie-detector tests, if necessary, to prove her innocence. Her crime is loving an evil man who didn’t love her but lied and said he’d marry her if he was free. I had to prove what a monster he was to save her. And I did. God bless you all.”
John clicked off the television, and they all stared in silence.
In the darkened screening room at the villa, Richie sat with a bottle of tequila in his hand, watching Emilio and Kelsey being escorted into the station. He took a swig directly from the bottle, then used the remote to turn off the widescreen television.
Click, and the movie screen rolled into place.
Click, and the movie started.
Wall Street.
Again.
By the time Abby and Chelsea had returned to the suite, the Gaines siblings had gone. Although Olivia Gaines’s murder had been solved, the mood was somber instead of celebratory.
“You’ve heard, we’re sure,” John said to them both.
“We didn’t think Kelsey was guilty,” Chelsea said. “Something in our guts just told us.”
“It’s the breeding,” John said. “Reporter and cop blood flowing through your veins and your’s,” he added, pointing to each of them.
“I never wanted to be a cop,” Chelsea said. “So much of it in the family, and I’ve seen the heartache it can cause.”
“You’ve also seen the good,” Shawn offered from the sofa, where Belle still sat wrapped in his arms.
“I haven’t had real focus since I moved to England,” Chelsea admitted. “All the craziness with Max has had me at loose ends.”
“Maybe now you’ll get it together,” Abby said. “You were pretty damned good in there.”
“We’ll see,” Chelsea said.
A loud crack that sounded like a sonic boom filled the air.
“Fireworkings!” Claire said, bolting upright from her fascination with her toes.
Through the window they could see bursts of light as fireworks illuminated the sky. They were accompanied by glorious Spanish music that was punctuated by the crackling spectacle in the harbor.
“The International Fireworks competition,” Marlena exclaimed. “Tonight’s entry is from Spain.”
She had read about the annual festival that remained one of Monaco’s most popular summer events and had drawn thousands to the principality every August for the last forty years. The winner of the dazzling show over Port Hercule garnered not only bragging rights, but also one hundred thousand euros.
“Our terrace is one of the best viewing sites,” she told them, encouraging them to join her as she moved outside.
Shawn swept Claire up in his arms, and he and Belle joined Marlena and John, with Abby and Chelsea following.
They oohed and aahed as the lights in the city dimmed, and a profusion of color filled the starry sky.
Next to two of the most romantic couples they knew, Chelsea and Abby linked arms. “You like him, don’t you?” Chelsea asked.
“I do not,” Abby protested.
“You don’t even know who I meant,” Chelsea said accusatorily.
“We both do,” Abby admitted. “And yes, I do, dammit.”
A blaze of color crossed the sky.
Jackson drove their Range Rover slowly up into the rocky hillside as the fireworks exploded over the city. It was one of
the most romantic nights of the year along the Côte d’Azur, and he was thinking of Abby.
Charley was in the passenger’s seat, and she was lost in the beauty of the pageantry. Her mother’s killer had been found, and all was right with the world, aside from a few small things—if one considered a drunken international felon for a father and a total loss of identity small.
The gates automatically opened as they pulled into the front courtyard and parked next to the Bentley, Maserati, and Ferrari that would all be confiscated soon. They all silently got out of the car.
Richie was now in the living room, waiting for them. Drunk, sad, and filled with remorse.
When they entered, he rose to greet them. The man who they had always seen as their hero, their father, their support was gone. In his place was a shell of his former self. In less than a week, everything had collapsed around him.
“I know sorry isn’t enough,” he choked.
“I’m sorry, Dad, but it isn’t,” Jackson said. “Hey, we’re not stupid. We always knew you had your faults, but didn’t realize they ran as deep as the Mediterranean Sea.”
“Charley, baby?” Richie smiled sadly. He tried to reach out to her, but she stood frozen.
“Mummy really loved you.” She sighed. “We all did. You gave us everything we ever wanted, when all we really needed was someone to be proud of us and to love us more than himself. Good night…Richie.”
His hand went to his chest as her dismissal stabbed him like a knife.
Charley went into Jackson’s arms for a tight hug. Then she took Chance’s hand and kissed him on the cheek.
“Let me go up with you,” Chance said and walked out with her without another word.
“I’ll be inventorying everything in the villa, then the offices and the London flat,” Jackson said. He was cold and businesslike. “Can’t imagine who’ll be coming out of the woodwork next,” he added. “Unfortunately for them, there’s nothing left to blackmail you for.”
Jackson turned to go, then stopped. “One more thing…I pray to God I can forget everything you ever taught me.” He turned and walked away.
Richie was alone again.
A bright flash of light illuminated the sky as they walked out of the elegantly casual room that reflected Olivia so thoroughly. The finale of the fireworks competition was a grand finish to a fateful day.
Richie caught sight of Olivia’s portrait, and it was as if she were watching him and smiling.
He began sobbing uncontrollably.
THE DOOR TO THE HOTEL SUITE OPENED, AND TWO WAITERS entered, pushing room-service carts with ice buckets and silver-domed porcelain plates.
“Be careful, we have a child sleeping,” Marlena said, motioning to Claire, who had fallen asleep on one of the massive sofas.
“Once that girl’s asleep, there’s no waking her,” Belle told her mother. “A bomb could go off, and she wouldn’t know it.”
“Sounds like a little girl we knew.” Marlena smiled as John pointed at Belle.
“What’s all this?” Shawn said as he emerged from the bathroom. His hair was still wet, and he was shirtless but wearing light cotton drawstring pants. He looked every bit the hunk that Belle had married.
“Remind me to keep my shirt on.” John grimaced.
“Yeah, right,” Shawn scoffed.
“Where would you like these, Madame?” the young waiter asked Marlena.
“One goes in each bedroom, thanks,” John instructed.
The waiters did as they were told, moving the fine linen-covered carts to opposite sides of the suite.
“Enjoy, guys,” John then said to his daughter and son-in-law.
“Thanks, Dad,” Belle said as she wrapped her arms around him. She then kissed him lightly on the lips.
Belle then kissed her mother, took Shawn’s hand, and they disappeared into the bedroom as the waiter held the door for them and then closed it behind them.
The second waiter came out of the master bedroom and nodded. “Extra crème fraîche, as you asked, sir.”
“Thank you,” John answered as he handed them each a large tip.
“Thank you,” they said in unison as they saw the generous offering. “Anything else you need, don’t hesitate to call.”
“All we want now is privacy,” John said.
The two quickly crossed the plush carpet and closed the door behind them.
“Alone at last.” He smiled. “That’s not weird, is it?” he added. “Our setting up a night of romance for our little girl?”
“She’s married with a child, and she’s pregnant,” Marlena reminded him needlessly. “And she’s happy, John,” she said with emphasis. “Isn’t that what we want for all our children?”
He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Every last one. You know, I feel sorry for the Gaines kids.”
“Me too. Finding out your father had feet of clay.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing she’s adopted.” John said.
Marlena gave John a surprised look. “Was that in her file?” she asked.
“I overheard her ask her brothers about it on the terrace. Apparently, she didn’t know.”
“So many secrets, so many lies,” Marlena said, shaking her head sadly. “I’d like to help her through it. Any way I can.”
“Yet one more reason you’re perfect.”
“That’s me,” she said with a self-deprecating tone.
“You are, you know,” he said. “Just perfect.”
“I love you, John Black,” she murmured.
“Not nearly as much as I love you.” He smiled. “There’s no way you could.”
John held her tightly, the warmth of their bodies comforting, inviting. After a few moments, he lifted her off her feet and into his arms.
“You’re still in recovery,” she cautioned.
“I told you I had to be whole before letting you in on this, Doc,” he said. “Don’t you worry.”
Marlena gazed into his eyes seductively, then buried her head on his shoulder as he carried her to the bedroom.
“What did you say the name of your physical therapist is?” she asked. “I’ve got to remember to thank her.”
Charley sat in the bay window of her bedroom, looking across the front courtyard and into the harbor. She had planned to go to bed but couldn’t sleep.
Small wonder.
A tap on the door and Chance entered with a bed tray with hot cocoa with marshmallows and graham crackers.
“Hi.” She smiled wanly.
“Hey.” He smiled. “Know it’s summer, but when we were kids, this always cheered you up.”
He gently put the tray on the Belgian lace bedcover and patted the bed for her to join him.
“Is cheering up what I need, or answers?”
“Hey.” She heard a voice from the doorway. It was Jackson. “Didn’t think you could do this without me, did you?”
He had his own cup of cocoa and a small bottle of Kahlua.
“Good thinking.” Chance nodded.
Jackson joined them on the bed and poured an ample amount of the coffee liqueur into each of their cups.
“To us,” Chance said, raising his mug in a toast.
“To us,” Jackson complied.
“Is there an us?” Charley asked pointedly. “Look at the two of you, and look at me.”
“You’re gorgeous,” Chance started.
“And obviously not blood related,” she said.
Chance lowered his mug and addressed her sweetly. “Sis, we know this has been an incredibly bad time for us all, and especially you, but we have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Nada,” Jackson concurred.
“We don’t look anything alike,” she said with a hint of desperation. “We don’t have any of the same tastes or talents, and my blood type did not match either Mum’s or…Richie’s. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.”
“You were born at NewYork–Presbyterian Hospital, Sis,”
Chance reminded her.
“So we thought,” she replied.
“I was ten when they brought you home,” Jackson reminded her.
“You were both away in prep school during Mummy’s entire pregnancy,” she reminded them.
“There are photos of her,” Chance added.
“She hardly showed. Why would she if she wasn’t really pregnant?” Charley insisted. “Dad kept her away from both of you and all their friends. Oh, right, and why don’t I just ask him?” The set of her beautiful jaw was firm. “He’s a big fat liar, or haven’t you noticed?”
“There have to be answers,” Jackson said.
“Unfortunately, the only one alive who probably knows is Gram, but somehow I doubt she’d remember.”
It was true. Olivia’s mother, a beautiful soul who she adored, had been suffering the torture of Alzheimer’s since Charley was two.
“Does it matter, little one?” Chance asked. “Does it really, truly matter?”
“I don’t want to be Richard ‘Ill Gotten’ Gaines’s daughter,” she admitted. “It matters to me.”
The strawberries and cream had been devoured, as had Marlena. She and John lay in one another’s arms.
The Monte Carlo moonlight shone in; the scented candles were nearly burned down. Marlena’s smile faded as her thoughts drifted to the events of the day. John knew his wife well. “Why can I guess what you’re thinking, Doc?” he smiled. “And for the record, I’m not offended.
“Can you help her, John?” Marlena asked softly.
He smiled at her tenderly. “I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I can ask,” Marlena replied as she drifted off to sleep in his arms.
JACKSON WAS IN RICHIE’S HOME OFFICE AT THE COMPUTER, completing the inventory, logging in item after item. He picked up the Baccarat crystal Encounter Man and Woman figures that Richie used as bookends, and checked the computer.
$1,740 each.
They were expensive but hardly going to pay back the hundreds of investors who were seeking restitution.
Chance entered, dressed in simple white slacks and a Ralph Lauren Black Label shirt rolled up at the sleeves.
A Secret in Salem Page 20
