A Royal Murder

by Lyn Stone

  "Perhaps. It may very well be that you are correct in believing her innocent. I but play the devil's advocate. Keep an open mind and do the task assigned you. Arrest her if you find any evidence of conspiracy. If indeed, she is innocent, then no harm is done by your industriousness."

  Not what Ryan had in mind. "You have hired me to solve your nephew's murder, Your Majesty. She's making that extremely difficult. Not overtly, of course. But she's... bothersome."

  "What an interesting word," the king said, looking faintly amused. "Not one to sit idly by while you complete this mission, is she?" he asked.

  "No, sir, she is not," Ryan admitted. An understatement.

  "You must ask yourself why that is so. Will your protectiveness toward this woman blind you to the possibility of her guilt?"

  "Absolutely not," Ryan assured him truthfully. "I will be thorough. Depend on it."

  King Marcus smiled and nodded once. "If I did not believe that, another would take your place."

  Ryan knew the best he could do now was reiterate his reason for the audience and get the hell out. "Sir, I do sincerely believe it would be best if you order her to return to the States until this case is cleared."

  King Marcus sighed and sat back. "I am not inclined to do so until you discover for certain whether she is somehow involved or clear her completely. Extradition would prove a delicate, if not impossible matter if you later find evidence she is guilty. As you know, her precipitous arrival troubles me." He met Ryan's eyes. "And you cannot know for certain whether or not she set the fire last evening."

  Ryan was already shaking his head. "No. She had no scent of any accelerant on her hands. No way she could have washed it off. All the soap had been removed from the bathroom by Forensics. The water was turned off."

  "The report indicates petrol was used," the king said.

  "Well then, she could not possibly have done it. She had no time to acquire any between the time we parted company and the time I rescued her."

  "She could have siphoned it from one of the autos in the car park. A quick and simple procedure, is it not?"

  "In what? No container was found. No hose," Ryan argued.

  "But they were found. Melted globs of plastic, of course. A copy of this report has been sent to your office from the fire inspector."

  Ryan ran a hand over his face as he processed that and tried to think of anything else that might exonerate her. "She was searched as she came in. Braca questioned the guard on duty."

  "And she lied to that guard. An accomplice could have provided what she needed, or the petrol itself. It would be relatively simple for someone to enter the grounds as a tourist and remain behind after the gates are closed to the public."

  "I assume that is being remedied, sir?"

  "I thought it already had been remedied, given the recent murder," the king admitted.

  Someone's head would roll in security, Ryan thought as the king continued. "You are intrigued by this woman. Understandable, but you must not allow—"

  "That is not a factor here," Ryan insisted with a sweep of one hand for emphasis. "You know it isn't!... sir."

  The king remained silent, his expression inscrutable.

  Ryan paced for a minute, searching his mind for something irrefutable to validate Nina's innocence. "There are the surveillance cameras. As soon as we're able to—"

  "Recovered within the past hour. Ruined."

  Ryan absorbed the kick of disappointment and went on. "Look, she even found what might be a clue last night before the fire took place, a piece of jewelry. Apparently it was missed in the initial sweep for evidence."

  The king nodded sagely, stretching out his long arms, his palms flattened on top of the enormous hand-carved desk. "An earring, one that could quite conceivably belong to her. Interesting that you missed such a thing, is it not?"

  "How did you know about it?" Ryan demanded. But he wasn't all that surprised. "Franz Koenig," he guessed.

  It ticked him off that the king would think it necessary to recruit a spy from the team. Of course, it was entirely possible someone here had called within the last hour and asked for an update on the forensics. Lorenzo, probably. Franz would be duty-bound to give it. That scenario was much more believable than Franz as a spy, Ryan decided.

  "You must not be upset that we insist upon keeping informed."

  The royal we? A not-so-subtle reminder of who was boss here. Ryan shrugged and smiled. "Not upset, Your Majesty. It's just that I came to tell you myself and Franz stole my thunder."

  The king smiled back as he reached for the solid-gold fountain pen and opened the leather folder in front of him. "Nina Caruso will remain until we have all the answers. Go and find them."

  Ryan had no choice but to accept the dismissal. He ducked his head in his usual salute and turned toward the door. Damned if he'd bow and back out of the room.

  "One further word with you, my friend."

  The deep commanding voice halted Ryan in his tracks, his hand on the gilded door handle. He turned, looking in question at the head of state. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

  "We have every confidence in your skills andyour objectivity. Keep Nina Caruso close to you in the event your current assumptions are correct and there is indeed a threat to her. Keep her very close."

  Ryan met the king's unwavering gaze with one just like it. "And also in the event that my assumptions are wrong."

  "How better to judge?"

  * * *

  As Ryan made his way down the long hall leading from the royal offices to the enormous entry foyer, he mulled over all the king had said. And not said. He slowly realized that the sly old fox no more believed Nina Caruso was guilty of anything than Ryan did. This obviously was a smoke screen to hide the real reason the king wanted Nina to stay in Montebello. Hard to figure what that might be at this point.

  At any rate, Ryan had no choice but to do exactly what the king advised—commanded, rather—and keep her as near as he possibly could. Her safety was paramount, as important to him now as solving the case. Maybe more so.

  That didn't say much for his dedication to the job. And this job had been his whole life for years now. It was what sustained him, gave him purpose and prevented his sliding back into that pit he'd climbed out of.

  No matter what the king had said, Ryan knew his professionalism and his objectivity were at stake here. Keeping his hands off of Nina took up too much of his energy and concentration. Another excellent argument for sending her away. But that wasn't going to happen now, so he would just have to deal with it.

  Somehow, he had to find a way to distance himself even while keeping her within reach at all times. How the hell was he supposed to do that?

  * * *

  Nina hurried toward the grand staircase, her high heels clicking on the beautifully veined marble. She had made it halfway there when a large hand closed around her arm. Oddly enough, it did not surprise her all that much to find herself staring into the furious blue-gray eyes of Ryan McDonough.

  After all, the possibility of running into him was the reason she was in such a hurry. If only she hadn't taken the time to interview those two guards, she might have made it upstairs to the residential wing before he finished his business in the royal office. Without a doubt he would object to what she was doing just because it was her idea and not his.

  His long, strong fingers burned right through the sleeve of her beige linen suit. Every time he touched her, apprehension swept through her like fire in her veins. Not that he frightened her physically. Her own reaction to him as a man was what caused her fear. She worried what she might do if his touch gentled again as it had last night. No danger of that at the moment, she thought with a sigh. Right now he looked livid.

  Though he wasn't hurting her, she knew better than to resist his grip. Maybe if she didn't act as guilty as she felt, he wouldn't frog-march her out of here like a prisoner. Nina smiled her friendliest smile. "I take it the audience with the king is over?"

  "What the hell
are you doing here?" His voice, though he kept it low, seemed to echo in the cavernous entry.

  Nina knew he was about to read her the riot act for leaving the lab when he'd ordered her to stay put. She decided to brave it out rather than cower. "Asking questions. Something you—" she accused, poking him in the chest "—have obviously been neglecting to do around here!"

  He grabbed her finger and removed it from the indentation her nail had made in his tie. "And how would you know what I've done or not done?"

  "I asked!" she hissed. "The two people I've spoken with already were very eager to help. I'm on my way to request an interview with the princesses' staff."

  "Oh, no you're not," Ryan assured her. "Even you have to observe protocol."

  He started for the main entrance, still clutching her upper arm. She had no choice but to follow or be dragged. "So make an appointment!"

  "I have. Now shut up and come on!"

  "Where?" she demanded, taking two steps to his every one in order to keep up.

  "Out of here before you get yourself shot. How'd you get past the guards?"

  Nina hated to tell him, but she knew he wouldn't let it go. He'd be reaming someone out about lack of security. "Well... I showed my ID, told them I was Desmond's sister and, uh, that I had your permission."

  "Damn," he muttered, shaking his head. He glared at the nice young guards with the big holstered weapons and all but shoved Nina through the doors leading outside.

  He glanced around. "How did you get here? Taxi?"

  She nodded, almost tripping in her attempt to match his haste as he ushered her around the arts wing to the parking lot to his car.

  "How did you know I was here?"

  Her smile was smug. "Saw the number you left Franz. Public Affairs office, the same one I called after I arrived at the airport yesterday. You came here to see the king and get me kicked on a plane, didn't you?"

  "Yes."

  Only when they were out of the palace grounds and he was occupied driving through the noon day traffic did Nina risk a question. "So, what did the king have to say about it?"

  He shot her a dark glance, then trained his eyes on the street again. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

  Nina bridled. "Don't be an ass, McDonough. Apparently it didn't work, since you're so mad."

  "When do you collect on your brother's insurance?"

  She frowned at the abrupt change of subject. "What?"

  "Have you made the claim yet?"

  Nina almost laughed. "You've got to be joking! There's no insurance."

  "A policy for half a million, all paid up, plus the capital in the trust fund that paid the premiums," he snapped.

  She was astounded. "How could... But that couldn't possibly... I know nothing about anything like that! Who—?"

  "Don't play dumb, Nina. Your father insured you both and made certain the premiums were taken care of."

  She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to ward off the headache that was rapidly growing to gigantic proportions behind her eyes. "I swear I didn't know. There was nothing like that in Dad's papers after he died."

  "And I suppose you knew nothing about Desmond receiving half your father's estate? Get real, Nina, you couldn't help but know." He scoffed.

  "Yes, of course I knew about that."

  "And resented the hell out of it, I bet," Ryan commented.

  "No," she argued. "I didn't resent it at all. Desmond sold the property he inherited, which he was perfectly entitled to do. I guess he spent all the money."

  That got Ryan's attention. He stopped at a red light and turned to face her. "What makes you think so?"

  Nina hesitated, but guessed it didn't matter now what anyone thought of Des. Lots of people were not that great about managing their money. "He called a couple of weeks ago wanting to borrow a bit from me."

  "A bit? How much?" Ryan asked, creeping ahead as the light turned and no longer pinning her with that laser glare.

  Nina shrugged. "Twenty thousand. He said he would repay me with interest when he received his next quarterly allowance from the crown."

  "Good God." Ryan coughed a laugh of obvious disbelief. "So you're here for repayment? King Marcus won't authorize you a nickel if your brother didn't sign a note, and even then—"

  "No," Nina interrupted the tirade, "I didn't loan Desmond anything. My assets are mostly tied up in investments and CDs, so I didn't have access to that much cash at the moment. Besides, I never make loans, especially not to friends or family. I believe it eventually causes bad feelings." "You're right. It really is very bad business to loan money unless you're a bank. Why did he need it?"

  "He didn't say. I told him I was sorry, that it wasn't possible, and asked him if he was in trouble of some kind. He said no, of course he wasn't."

  "Was he angry? How did he react to your refusal?"

  Nina shrugged. "He said never mind, then goodbye and hung up."

  "Nothing else? Did he ask how you were doing? Tell you anything about how things were going with him?"

  Nina felt embarrassed to have to admit that her own brother had no interest in her life at all and hadn't been inclined to share what his was like. "He sounded as if he was in a hurry. I guess he didn't have time for small talk."

  "Interesting indeed. Did he ever have time?"

  Now she felt defensive, as if Ryan were attacking Desmond or something. "What are you implying?"

  "Nothing. Forget it."

  But she couldn't, of course, especially now that he had made a big thing of it. Desmond hadn't really cared much. Maybe not at all. So why the hell was she here? Nina blinked back tears.

  Ryan reached over and took her hand without looking directly at her. "Hey, I get carried away sometimes. It's no big deal, okay?"

  "Okay." But it wasn't okay. Now she was questioning not only Desmond's feelings for her, but hers for him. Maybe she harbored a deeply buried resentment after all and had never admitted it, even to herself.

  "Let it go, Nina," he suggested softly, squeezing her hand. "Think about something else."

  At least the change in topic had taken Ryan's mind off her ignoring his orders earlier. His anger seemed to have lessened. She suspected that he rarely held on to it for long anyway, thank goodness. She wasn't up to a fight in her present frame of mind.

  She was getting to know Ryan better now. He found vulnerable spots with unerring accuracy, that was for sure. He also gave good advice. Picking apart her relationship with her brother wouldn't do anyone any good now. He'd been killed, and she was here to find out what happened. It was that simple. Reasons no longer mattered.

  She would concentrate on Ryan for the moment. Figuring him out might make the difference in her success or failure in this venture.

  His bad temper popped like firecrackers and just as quickly disappeared, the residual smoke dispersing a bit more slowly, but even that was clearing with the breeze of diversion. All she had to do to diffuse a situation with Ryan was to sidetrack him.

  "So, how about if I buy you lunch?" she asked, forcing a lilt into her voice.

  "You make me crazy, you know that?" he asked.

  Nina decided the question was about as rhetorical as questions ever got, so she didn't answer it. Instead, she made an observation. "You really ought to work on your adaptability, McDonough. Did you go through this trauma every time you hired an assistant?"

  "You are not an assistant," he said, only pretending anger now and not doing it very well, either. "You're a serious liability is what you are. All I want is to do my job, and now I have to divide my time between that and keeping you out of trouble."

  Nina clicked her tongue in sympathy. "King's orders, huh?"

  "Yeah. King's orders." He heaved a gruff sigh. "You want this murder solved or not?"

  "That's why I came here," she told him, exerting her best effort to sound patient and companionable.

  "Yeah, well, I hope that's why." He risked another glance even as he wove through the traffic. "If it is
, then you owe me some cooperation. You have to do exactly what I tell you and quit taking off on your own the way you did last night and today."

  "I'm yours to command," she said primly, folding her hands in her lap.

  He laughed and shook his head. She couldn't help noticing the creases beside his mouth that could almost be called dimples. His teeth could be a toothpaste ad and his long-lashed eyes crinkled just right at the corners. The laugh was infectious, but she resisted the urge to laugh with him since he was laughing at her.

  "What's so funny?" she demanded, but he didn't answer. Once his laughter subsided, they rode in silence. He was still holding her hand while they both pretended not to notice.

  Just when she thought she had him figured out, another side of him would emerge to confuse her. About the only thing she had locked down about Ryan McDonough was his firm determination not to act on his attraction to her. Oh, it was there, as surely as hers for him, but he resented it as much as he resented her helping him with the case.

  She didn't care, Nina told herself. It was just as inconvenient for her as it was for him. The man was not her type at all. The chemistry between them was a purely physical thing that sometimes happened for no good reason at all. Pheromones or something equally ephemeral. An accident of nature in this case.

  When the two people involved had nothing at all in common and no way in the world to make a personal connection work, they should simply ignore it. Or fight it tooth and nail, if it turned out to be this strong. That's what he was doing and helping her to do, she assured herself.

  His strategy was working for the most part. She should applaud that and thank him for attempting to be a jerk so she could keep her distance and he could keep his.

  She ought to develop some kind of defense herself instead of testing their attraction at every turn, of analyzing it and rationalizing it and wishing it could somehow work.

  God, where had that thought come from? She didn't wish it would work. Did she? No, certainly not with a man like McDonough, who admitted he had no time or inclination to involve himself in anything but his job.