by Jianne Carlo
“Ter, cut it. Keep a lid. I know you’re near breaking point, but Su-Lin doesn’t need this right now.”
Hearing Thomas speak her name puzzled Su-Lin. She stroked Terry’s throat, let her finger rest on his strong pulse. “It all feels so real. I should sell my dreams to those adventure parks.”
Terry’s eyes narrowed. “Darlin’?”
“She’s drugged, Terry. They’ve shot her up with something. Her eyes are glazed.” Harry raised a finger. “Sugar, follow my finger.”
“Makes everything spin. Stop, Harry.” She closed her eyes, and their faces stopped acting like blurred carriages on a Ferris wheel. “I’m going to rest my eyes for a few minutes.”
“We need to keep her awake, at least until the doc sees her,” Thomas said.
“I’ll take care of it. Tie him up,” Terry ordered, angling his chin at Casmir. “Make it hurt.”
“Non, you do not hurt mon frère.”
Su-Lin opened one eye and peeked in the direction of the girl’s voice.
Adria poked a finger into Terry’s jean-clad thigh. She barely reached his waist. Neck craned to meet his eyes, the little girl stamped one foot.
“She’s perfect,” Su-Lin said. “She’s going to be a great gymnast. Could we have a daughter soon?”
“Whatever you want, darlin’.”
“Stop frowning,” she ordered and rubbed away the lines between his eyebrows. “You have to say it back.”
“What, darlin’?”
“I love you. That’s how it works. The knight rescues the princess. She says I love you. Then he says it back and kisses her. Only don’t kiss me. I think they dropped me in the rotting onions.”
“Rotting onions?”
“You still have to say it back.”
“Cornered, drawn, and quartered,” Harry drawled.
Distracted by a loud clanking, Su-Lin glanced in the direction of the noise and saw a most peculiar version of a pickup coming their way. It bounced and weaved on the gravel driveway, sending small pebbles flying and belching sooty smoke from a spout on its roof. The comical vehicle shuddered to a halt in front of them.
“It hiccupped,” she said.
“I’m afraid you won’t fit in the cab. I borrowed a blanket. Only consolation is the house’s not far away. Ten-minute ride, even in this thing.” Jean-Michel gave that fatalistic, archetypal shrug only the French male had ever mastered.
“Oh my,” she muttered when the vehicle reared and jumped before moving forward.
“Wrap your arms around my neck, darlin’. Hold on tight.”
“How clever,” she said a few minutes later, as Terry wedged his feet into the far corners of the tray. “Thank you.”
And then she slept like a baby. The last thing she felt was Terry’s arms and his body spooning her. Only the rays and a familiar scent lured her from sleep.
“Tea,” she muttered and sniffed. “Peppermint tea.” She lifted her eyelids with slow caution and stared at a vaguely familiar ceiling.
“How’re you feeling?”
Eyes widening, Su-Lin stared at a vaguely familiar female.
“Do you remember me? Sarita Paxton? We met briefly at the masked ball.”
“Yes.” Su-Lin slid up the bed’s headboard, and her mind raced, taking in the surroundings. The bright sunshine flooded over a stone terrace through open glass and wood doors. Holding her breath, she hooded her eyes and darted peeks at the far wall, and almost slumped down with relief. “The Goddess room. Jean-Michel’s house.”
“That’s right. I’m sure you’re wondering how you got here. I’m guessing the last thing you remember is the Glory.”
Closing her eyes, she tried to piece together what happened after hearing Terry’s bald statement about his stepmother. She shuddered as a vision of the redhead with -- No, don’t go there, she thought.
How could he think she would blame him? What kind of woman does that to a barely teenage boy?
A memory surfaced. “The last thing I remember is Austen bringing a tray of food to my room. I ate a little and then fell asleep. How on earth did I get to the Fragonard Château?”
“It’s a long, complicated story.” As she spoke, the woman deposited a tray on the bed next to Su-Lin’s thighs. Turning over a chintz teacup, she picked up a matching pot and said, “Herbal tea, no caffeine. I figured after what your poor stomach’s been through over the last while, we’ll stick to soothing foods. Okay with you?”
The peppermint tang of the hot tea washed away the sour taste in Su-Lin’s mouth.
“The doctor checked you out yesterday, but I’m sure you hardly remember any of that. You were pretty out of it.” Sarita edged an ornate chair closer to the bed. She waved a hand at the tray. “Two bran muffins with local honey and wild blueberry jam. Now I’m going to sit here and bring you up to date while you eat both.”
Su-Lin broke one muffin in half and nibbled on the top while Sarita spoke. As each horrifying detail emerged, her appetite diminished, but she forced the food down. An existentialism settled around her brain, the ugly facts made her shudder.
“You’re very pale. Are you feeling okay?” Sarita moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
The door burst open. A young boy with a shock of sun-kissed blond hair and the greenest eyes she’d ever seen careened into the room and braked to an abrupt halt directly in front of the two women.
“Mom, Dad wants you.” His eyes swung from Sarita to her. “Hi. I’m Anthony Rolan Paxton, but most everyone calls me Tony. Dad said you’re a gymnast, and Harry says you can do a split upside down. Can you show me how?”
“Son --”
The boy’s energy made her smile, and Su-Lin interrupted his mother. “I’d love to teach you how to do a split. Maybe tomorrow?” It’d be good to concentrate on something physical, tangible. She’d practice her routine tomorrow. Work with Tony. Where was Terrence?
“Terry and the others left for Nice right before I brought you breakfast. They spent the morning interrogating Casmir and Adria. Son, ask your father to join us.”
“Adria tried to help me. I remember that.” As she twisted the napkin into the shape of a crane Su-Lin’s thoughts sifted through hazy, seemingly unrelated images, Adria’s pale cheeks, her brother’s thundering bellows. She only noticed the boy sprinting away when he missed tumbling a chintz vase by an infinitesimal inch. “Why did Terrence go to Nice?”
“Your uncle and aunt have vanished. Terry, Thomas, Suresh, and Miche are there because Carol-Ann’s body washed up on the morning tide. Miche’s uncle is overseeing the investigation into the matter. Terry has to testify about his whereabouts that night.”
“Where was he?” She held her breath.
“In a bar drinking.” Sarita’s voice changed, and Su-Lin studied her features. She wouldn’t make eye contact.
“Please tell me,” she whispered as she tore apart the delicate bird napkin.
“In a bar drinking,” Rolan Paxton repeated as he strode through the open doorway. “You look much better. How’re you feeling?”
“Good.”
“Are you up to hearing what we’ve discovered?”
“Yes.”
Sarita collected the tray and set it on a walnut sideboard on the other side of the room, while Rolan lifted a chair, then set it down with its back to her. He sat and rested his elbows on the frame.
“Adria overheard her brother arrange a business transaction with James Lockheed, who we now know is your half uncle, Chang Ling.”
“He’s actually related to me? Sarita told me, but he doesn’t look Asian.”
“You’re right on that point. From what Geoff uncovered, Chang had eye and nose surgery at some point in the past, to anglicize his features.”
“Dad never spoke about his family,” Su-Lin mused. “I can’t believe Emma lived and worked in Mayo and I never saw her or even heard of her.”
“I must admit that part is remarkable. And you never saw her at Finklestein’s office?”
�
��I never went to his office. He always came to the house. I think he felt sorry for my mother and me. After Dad died and my mother started having problems, I kept pretty much to myself.” She concentrated on the napkin again, finding comfort in the familiar origami shapes.
“Here’s what we’ve pieced together. The treasury bonds were purchased by your father shortly after your parents moved to Mayo.”
“Where did he get the money?”
“When your dad lived on the West Coast, he received regular parcels from Vietnam.”
“There was money in the parcels?”
“Yep. His father was smuggling money out. We suspect that around five years after your father moved to the US, his father died. After he married your mother, Deshi Ling disappeared. He applied for a new Social Security number under the name of John Wayne Taylor, married your mother, and moved to Mayo.”
“He stole the money,” she asked, frowning. “But if his dad had died, it’s not really stealing, is it?”
“His half brother, Chang, didn’t see it that way. Put yourself in Chang’s place. He was earning the money in Vietnam. He obviously felt entitled to it.”
“How did he find out about the bonds?”
“Chang’s been searching for your father for years. He had all the information on your father’s real identity, Social Security numbers, et cetera. Your mother changed her will during the last month of her life. We know this because of papers filed in Mayo. Near as we can guess, somehow your father’s old Social Security number must have popped up.”
“And Chang found us from that?” she asked, her mind reeling.
“Do you know much about the Internet?”
“Not really,” Su-Lin answered. “Why?”
“I’ll skip all the technical stuff then. That search your lawyer did reached Chang in Thailand. He contacted Finklestein, told him he was your uncle, and flew to the US. Finklestein ran an identity check on Chang, who’d given him the name of a legitimate Hong Kong businessman. We think he entered the US before your mother died. Somehow, he managed to get her to go the bank and claim that first bond.”
“Did my mother have the bond in her possession?”
“We don’t know.”
“She must have. That’s why he offered to go through my mother’s things,” Su-Lin said, as pieces began to fit together. “He was looking for the bonds. But I still don’t understand how he got her to go with him to the bank before she died.”
“We’ll probably never know that either, but my guess is he doped her with the same stuff he had Casmir inject into you.” Rolan lifted a shoulder. “Did Chang give you any documents to sign?”
Her stomach did a series of tumbling dives; she squeezed her eyes shut and ducked her head. “I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I? I was so happy to not be alone in the world. It was so wonderful to have someone taking care of me.” She met his gaze. “I signed tons of legal papers.”
“We think one of them must have been a will, in which you left everything, including the treasury bonds, to him.”
“But I don’t have the bonds.” She knuckled her temple.
“That’s the thing, Su-Lin, you must have. At least Chang thinks you know where they are.”
“Why this trip? Why this whole elaborate ruse?” She picked up a decorative pillow and squeezed the soft down, needing some sort of contact with things tangible.
“This has all been carefully planned, Su-Lin. You didn’t just end up on the Glory.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Four years ago, a woman fell overboard during a cruise on the Glory.”
Su-Lin’s eyes widened.
“She washed up later. There was an investigation. Terry was cleared. But since he and the woman had been lovers and had had a public spat the night she disappeared, rumors have always dogged him.”
“He chose Terrence deliberately. He was going to kill me and throw me overboard, wasn’t he?” A surge of anger flattened her mouth.
“He planned to get rid of you, but not like that,” Rolan replied. “He didn’t want your body found. To cash the bonds, he’d have to prove his identity. If your body washed up, the bank would do a DNA test.”
“He’s behind my kidnapping, right?” When Rolan nodded, she asked, “Why? How would that help him?”
“Casmir’s orders from Chang were to kidnap you, drug you and keep you drugged, and deliver you to the captain of a Hong Kong fishing trawler in Marseilles. The Gypsies have been following you looking for an opportunity to snatch you since you arrived in France.”
“Adria too?” Her lungs refused to accept oxygen.
“They were all part of it, at first. The two sisters, Gitana and Adria, began to balk after you and Thomas gave them clothes and food.”
“Where did he plan to have me shipped?”
“Someplace where he could torture the location of the bonds out of you.” Rolan grimaced. “Probably rural Thailand. It’s a pretty lawless area.”
“And Emma? How does she fit into all this?”
He arched both eyebrows. “That one’s stymieing us. Obviously, she found out who Chang was. How she got him to agree to let her in on the scheme, we haven’t a clue.”
“Who drugged me the night of the masked ball?”
“Casmir was responsible for the welcome basket. Your uncle supplied it to him. His instructions were to leave it, watch until you’d passed out from the drugged chocolates, and then take you to Marseille.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“Adria didn’t know about the basket, but she wanted to thank you for the food, so she left the bottle of absinthe for you. She’d overheard you and Thomas talking about it.”
“Why didn’t they kidnap me then?”
“Terry found you before Casmir returned.”
“Thank goodness,” she said. “If they’d kidnapped me that night, no one would ever have found me, would they?”
“Probably not.”
Another thought occurred to her, and she asked, “What happened to the welcome basket?”
“When Casmir did return, he found out you’d been taken to the hospital, so he took the evidence.”
“Your uncle and aunt had a solid alibi for that night in Grasse. We’re certain your uncle staged his chest pains.”
Su-Lin’s hands curled into fists, and she seethed. “Do you know how guilty I felt about that? It ate me up inside.”
“Solid planning. No one could have connected them to you. They had witnesses to prove they were in a hospital in Nice.”
“I’ll never understand how a teenage boy could be so cold and calculating,” Sarita said. “That boy’s headed for prison.”
“What teenage boy?”
“Casmir,” Sarita replied.
“Let me finish, honey.” Rolan lips curved as he shot his wife an amused glance. “She tends to be a tad on the overprotective side. Adria and Gitana decided not to go along with Casmir’s and Chang’s plans once they realized you’d probably be killed. But they dared not tell him that.”
“That Gypsy boy’s damned lucky. I really thought Terry would beat him within an inch of his life.” Sarita quirked one corner of her mouth. “I guess Adria got to him. What a feisty child.”
“You haven’t heard the latest, honey. Terry gave Casmir a choice -- jail or the Royal Marines. He’s signing up as we speak. Geoff and Terry have it all arranged.” Rolan chuckled. “Talk about being scared straight.”
“Where is Adria?”
“With Renée.” Seeing Su-Lin’s puckered forehead, Sarita added, “Jean-Michel’s mother. I gather you have plans for the girl?”
“I think so. I mean, I guess it depends upon the bonds. Is she all alone in the world now?”
“According to Casmir, their parents died a while back. They’ve been virtually homeless. You do have to give him some credit, honey. He’s kept Adria and Gitana alive and safe, and I’m convinced whatever he did, it was with those two goals in mind.”
“Hmmh.” Sarita sno
rted. “I don’t care what you say, Rolan Paxton, I don’t want that boy around our son. And I’m sure Su-Lin will agree he’s not a good influence for the girl. Tell her the rest.”
“I’m not sure if you knew, but the Glory’s been chefless since Sarita quit when she and I got married. Sarita hired a replacement who was supposed to arrive a couple of days ago, but the woman failed to show. Long story short, this was all planned so that Casmir and two of his colleagues would, on Chang’s recommendation, cater dinner that night.”
“Austen should have known better. Since when does a caterer bring a trunk as part and parcel of their cooking equipment?” Sarita interjected with a huff. “At least Lolita had a fabulous time at the Cap.”
“Lolita? A trunk?” she asked and rubbed one temple absently, trying to alleviate a sudden throbbing.
“My replacement,” Sarita answered. “Some guy met her at the airport, told her the Glory was in dry dock, and took her to the Cap, all expenses paid.”
“Oh. And the trunk?”
“No one would suspect you were in it.”
Even though a steady breeze played with the cream chiffon drapes fronting the open French doors, oxygen seemed to have evaporated from the room.
“What we haven’t figured out as yet is Carol-Ann’s role in all of this.”
“Is she really dead?” Although Su-Lin hadn’t like the woman one iota, she wouldn’t have wished such an untimely end on anyone. “Did she fall overboard?”
“No. She was shot. With Terry’s gun.”
“What?” Su-Lin scrambled off the bed. “I don’t believe it. He wouldn’t do that. I know it.” She searched the room for any sign of her luggage. “I have to go to him.”
“Calm down, Su-Lin. Terry has an airtight alibi for that night.”
“Oh,” she said and patted her chest, as if that would slow her racing heart. “All the people in the bar. Thank God.”
“Actually, he spent the night in a motel room with Gitana. She should clear Terry this afternoon.”
So many thoughts crowded and jumbled Su-Lin’s brain, she had to fight not to spout each one as it occurred. Then a refrain played in head. He spent the night in a motel room, over and over, until she wanted to plug her ears with her fingers.
