“Gilly, are you aware he may have more than food and wine on his mind?” Nicole said in a low voice.
Hesitating, Gilly looked from Nicole to Sheridan. “I know it’s sudden. I keep asking myself if he’s real … if my feelings for him are real.”
“So?” Sheridan asked.
“I … if … he’s all I can think about. If he says he loves me … do you think I’m wrong?” Gilly whispered. She looked at her friends, questioning, seeking their advice but knowing deep down it didn’t matter what they thought.
Chapter 9
───
Monaco
THE YACHT’S CAPTAIN GAVE the command to the crew to pull up anchor. The sleek vessel slowly pulled out of the bay leaving Monaco’s bikini-clad sunbathers and pristine beach glistening in the afternoon sun. The woman, who had chartered the captain and his ship the Lady Margaret for a week’s vacation out at sea, and her companion were lounging on the afterdeck.
Elizabeth Winter’s, formerly Elaine Waters, formerly Eleanor Wellington felt the lecherous eyes of Gordon Silvers, formerly Glenn Stevens, formerly Gerald Sacco. The pair was of an age. The difference being she felt she was royalty and deserved the attention she received and if truth be told enjoyed the lascivious glances of the opposite sex. Indeed, she did everything to attract the glances—kept her body firm and oiled and her clothes revealing. So it was at this moment—Eleanor lying on the chaise lounge, her bikini a mere string across her breasts and another around her loin. Her sheer caftan open, draped to the side.
She enjoyed Sacco’s attention this late afternoon as the ship gathered speed heading out to sea, the wake churning behind.
Watching the water convulse to each side as the ship cut through the water, Sacco’s blood began churning as well. The sun soon dipped below the horizon and a full moon rose from the east as dusk merged into night.
“Madame, cocktails are ready in your stateroom as you instructed,” the ship’s steward announced. “What time and where do you wish dinner to be served?”
“Late, maybe ten o’clock, out here on the deck. And, please inform the captain that I don’t wish him to drop anchor for the night until after midnight.”
“Very good, madame.”
“Well, Gerald, would you like to join me for cocktails?” Eleanor, plucked a slice of orange from the fruit tray, slowly lowered it to her mouth, her lips licking the sweet nectar.
Sacco popped up from his chair. Yes, he wanted to join her for cocktails and for other activities between cocktails and dinner. He envisioned a truly glorious happy hour.
Rising from the chaise Eleanor stretched her arms over her head and then slowly ambled inside. She wanted to verify some information Sacco had given her about the gold bullion by slowly acquiescing to his advances in the ship’s elegant bedroom. The steward had just confirmed the happy hour delicacies she had ordered to be brought to the cabin at eight o’clock were in place. Her evening plans were now set in motion.
“Gerald dear, did you inform our gold seller that we’d be contacting him to liquidate all the gold bullion after our vacation? We can’t trust the spot price for gold will continue to increase.”
“Yes, my love. He is expecting us. I like your plan to be rid of the bars. He will deposit the money equally in the ten accounts we set up.”
“Good. Once we leave the bullion behind there will be no way of tracing it back to us. It will simply vanish, melted down, recast into other bars for sale to unsuspecting buyers and jewelers around the world.”
Twice Eleanor rang for additional liquor, and wine. At ten o’clock she strolled to the deck followed by Sacco stumbling after her. It had been a wonderful evening and he looked forward to more of the same after dinner. Actually he was a little irritated that dinner interrupted their activities. But whatever the woman wanted was okay because she certainly was accepting of his amorous advances.
The night was balmy, the stars bright, the deck cozy with tapered white candles glowing in glass hurricane covers. Tiny votives flickered on a table between the two chaise loungers. The steward poured red wine from a large carafe and set an antipasto platter between the pair, and later served the main course of veal medallions and cubes of red potatoes sautéed in butter and chives.
“Cheers, my dear,” Eleanor said. “Here’s to a safe journey.”
Gerald gulped his wine. “You know, at first when you suggested a little getaway on this boat, I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea. I can’t swim, as I told you. Actually, water scares me. But, today you put those fears behind me.” Sacco finished his wine, and refilled the glass. He nodded to Eleanor. “Can I top off your glass, my love?”
“I’m fine, thank you. You go ahead. Finish it if you like.”
Tapping her glass, he delivered his toast. “Here’s to tomorrow. May it be exactly as today.”
The steward silently appeared, removed the main course plates and set a small plate of pastries on the table along with two tulip-shaped brandy glasses and a bottle of cognac.
“Thank you. That will be all for tonight,” Eleanor said softly, smiling at the steward.
“Very good, madame. Enjoy your evening,” he said disappearing into the ship.
Sacco hadn’t noticed that she only sipped her drink—her wine, the cocktails before, the afternoon’s wine with lunch.
Eleanor watched him closely.
It was almost time.
During the afternoon, behind sunglasses, her eyes sought the lowest railing, the best concealed spot where one might accidentally fall overboard. Especially someone who had enough alcohol in his body to render him unconscious. She had strolled the afterdeck checking windows where one might have a vantage point of the low bars if passing by inside.
She had found the perfect spot.
It was time.
“Gerald, you look a little peaked. Let’s stand by the rail so you can get some breeze, cool you off. You’ll feel better. Perk you up. The night is young.”
“Yes … I don’t feel too good.”
“Here, lean on me, dear.”
“You’re so strong, Eleanor.”
Sacco wrapped his arm over her shoulders for support. She laid her head against him, her arm tight around his waist, holding him up, preventing him from keeling over, guiding him to the rail, the rail she had spotted earlier.
He leaned into the rail.
“Here, lean out so you feel the breeze,” she whispered.
The air was soothing to his skin.
He leaned further.
“Ah, yes.” Sacco let her put his foot on the first rung of the railing.
He leaned out.
His hand slipped.
He reached for her clutching nothing but air as his body slid over the rail into the sea.
Thirty minutes passed as the Lady Margaret continued on her course away from land.
Eleanor rang for the steward from the stateroom.
“Gerald hasn’t come in and I’m dreadfully tired. Will you round him up and bring him here. I’m afraid he’s had too much to drink.”
Chapter 10
───
SKIP HUNTER HAD JUST spent eighteen grueling hours flying from Seattle to Paris after receiving the call from Seattle Detective Mirage Dubois. Thanks to Gilly’s tip, Paris Police Detective André Boisot had located Eleanor Wellington following her winding trail through two aliases. Each bend in the trail had led to her companion Gerald Sacco.
The search for Wellington and Sacco had taken five weeks but Boisot’s diligence finally paid off. Eleanor had rented a Paris condo under the name of Elizabeth Winters. The condo manager had positively identified Winters as Eleanor Wellington and her companion, Gordon Silvers as Gerald Sacco. They had always maintained the initials EW and GS.
Boisot then scheduled officers to stakeout the condo, trailing the pair’s every move as they individually went about their daily business, holding off an arrest until one or the other led them to the stash of forty-five million dollars worth of gol
d bullion.
Dubois had informed Skip that the pair was finally under surveillance and had invited Skip to tag along with him to Paris to witness the arrest. DuBois knew Hunter was chronicling the heist hoping to write an expose, a novel to start a new career as a mystery writer. If he could arrange it, Skip would witness the pinch. DuBois and Hunter had boarded a plane at Seattle’s Sea-Tac Airport within two hours of receiving the information from Detective Boisot that Wellington and Sacco were to be arrested.
Skip had another reason to travel with DuBois to Paris, one he did not share with the detective. Gilly. His unease had grown over the weeks since Gilly called with the Wellington tip. Maybe if he saw her, held her hand … hell, he had to hold her in his arms. Then and only then would he be able to ease the knot in his stomach. The knot forming from the fear she had moved on, away from him … or had met someone else.
Skip tried to sleep on the second leg of the journey, nighttime over the Atlantic Ocean, but he couldn’t quiet his mind. He kept going over the events that had put him in the middle of the gold robbery investigation, had brought him onto this airplane, this night. From the beginning he felt the man’s body found on the shores of Puget Sound in the little town of Hansville was a victim of murder. No one agreed with him at the time. They all said it was an accident. Everyone that is except Gilly and her grandfather, Clay Wilder. Gramps. That was how he met the redhead, a woman who wanted to be a fashion designer, and not any fashion designer, but one with her own label and someday head of her company, House of Gillianne—fashions for the career woman.
Skip closed his eyes and smiled at the vision of the eager, driven girl he met that day. Of course, he was just as driven to become a writer. Even named his dog Agatha Christie, but he soon learned that that wasn’t so strange as she had named her tabby cat Coco. Coco Chanel.
DuBois’ head slid down onto Skip’s shoulder. Skip let him sleep.
Closing his eyes again, he smiled at the picture of his editor breaking and running the story under Skip’s byline after Skip had a received a tip that the man on the beach was a former financial consultant to Wellington. It turned out that the dead man on the beach was probably the ringleader of the heist. But through a strange turn of events, which Skip wasn’t quite sure of, Wellington’s wife Eleanor had disappeared at the same time Gerald Sacco disappeared, Wellington’s property manager. The authorities were certain the pair had made off with the gold and now Wellington was chomping at the bit for its return. And, he didn’t care if his wife went to jail, in fact, at this moment he relished the thought of her spending years behind bars for betraying his love.
Skip hoped he could catch up with Gilly, but when they landed the next morning at Charles de Gaulle Airport they were met by the Paris police and were whisked away on a police jet for the hour-and-half trip to Monaco. Boisot’s men had lost Wellington and Sacco but scrambled and had picked up their trail again in Monaco. Gilly would have to wait.
They were told the plane would be met by the Monaco authorities. The pair in question had contracted for the captain and his yacht, the Lady Margaret, for a week’s getaway, but a little after midnight the captain had radioed the shore that a man was overboard, lost at sea. The man’s companion, a woman, was distraught and the captain had turned the yacht around and was heading back to Monaco.
Boisot bumped down the jet’s aisle and sat across from DuBois and Skip. They discussed the use of the various aliases of the wanted pair and decided to use, initially, the names they had used when boarding the yacht. DuBois and Hunter would stay out of sight until they were ready to accuse Eleanor of making off with the stolen gold bullion. Boisot handed them hooded rain slickers in the event Eleanor was on deck.
The plane landed in Monaco and Boisot and DuBois, followed by Skip, hustled down the stairs to the group of officers standing on the tarmac. They were escorted to a police vessel moored at the dock waiting for the men’s arrival. Within thirty minutes they pulled alongside the Lady Margaret.
The captain met the officers as they boarded.
“I informed Mrs. Winters that the Monaco police wanted to question her about the disappearance of her companion.”
“That’s all you told her, right?” DuBois asked.
“Yes. She’s in her stateroom. Do you want the steward to inform her that she’s wanted in the main cabin?”
“Yes,” Boisot said. “This is how I want to handle the situation. I and the Monaco police officers will question her first about the missing Mr. Gordon Silvers. During this session, one of your crewmen will take Detective DuBois and a Monaco officer to search her room. We do not want Elizabeth Winters to see DuBois so make sure your crew member understands that. It is very important.”
“What about this man. Your name?” the Monaco detective asked.
“Skip Hunter. I’m here on background—
“He’s with me,” DuBois said. He and Skip had already decided not to talk about his being a reporter unless asked. Skip didn’t want any of the officers to hold back fearing their names would appear in print. “I’d like Mr. Hunter to be present during the questioning of Mrs. Winters. Not in the room mind you, as she may recognize him from working on our case prior to her disappearance. I’m sure you’re going to record her statements, but Mr. Hunter wants to hear her voice, how she handles herself.” DuBois already equipped Skip with a high-powered receiver to put in his ear.
The officers took up their positions so all Eleanor saw as she was escorted into the main cabin was the Monaco detective and one of his men. Wringing a damp handkerchief in her clenched fist, Eleanor occasionally dabbed a tear from her eye as she related the prior day’s events: her companion’s heavy drinking, her going to bed, her concern over his not joining her, and then her call to the steward to find her companion. When he was not to be found she surmised he must have fallen overboard. She said the Lady Margaret’s captain told her he had notified the Monaco authorities that a man was apparently lost at sea and that they would circle with floodlights to try to find the man.
DuBois joined Skip in the hall outside the cabin, tapped him on the shoulder indicating he wanted to talk to him. Skip followed DuBois back to Eleanor’s stateroom where a recorder laid on one end of a dresser under a large mirror. A bouquet of lilies in a crystal vase sat on the other end.
“Skip, we found this cassette in Mrs. Wellington’s purse, on the floor tucked under the bed. She probably didn’t want to take any chances on losing it. Take a listen.”
Dubois pushed the button and a very drunk Sacco slurred out the participants in the gold heist and a detailed description of how they pulled it off. He talked about a man named Lester Tweed, a man Skip had learned was connected to the dead man on the beach. Later Tweed had turned up dead in an alley. Sacco confessed to the part he played in the heist, and that he had killed Tweed.
At the end of the recording, DuBois turned off the machine. DuBois and Skip looked at each other—so it appeared Eleanor had done away with Sacco and believed the forty-five million was now hers and hers alone.
Not satisfied with his initial search, Boisot grunted as he tore Eleanor’s purse apart. A smile spread across his face as he recognized a name written on a piece of paper in a small compartment of Eleanor’s bag. It was the name of a money launderer, and a fence for stolen jewels and gold. A man he had been trying to nail for years.
Boisot led the way back to the main cabin where the Monaco detective was questioning Mrs. Winters. When they entered the cabin, Eleanor was in the middle of a crying spell. Her eyes immediately riveted on DuBois and Skip, bouncing from one to the other.
DuBois laid the recorder on the coffee table and pushed the play button. Eleanor stared at the small machine. DuBois and Skip stared at her while the other lawmen switched back and forth—recorder to the pale woman and back to the recorder.
Eleanor did not go quietly. At first denying everything but when DuBois played the cassette again asking her to confirm the woman’s voice on the tape was hers, she turne
d violent. Cursed at the officers, tried to run out of the room but was stopped. Picking up a crystal vase she threw it at DuBois. The vase bounced off of him, smashed against a brass rail spewing shards of glass. DuBois received a scratch on his arm but Skip, standing next to the rail suffered a deep gash on his cheek.
Eleanor suddenly froze in place. She pulled herself tall, nose in the air, and allowed the officers to cuff her. They hauled their prisoner to shore where Boisot made arrangements for her transportation to a Paris jail awaiting the proper documents to remand her to Seattle under the care of Detective DuBois. The Monaco police suspected her of killing her companion but withheld charging her until forensics dusted the yacht and the Coast Guard searched for the body. Boisot immediately contacted his officers in Paris to bring in the man named on the paper in Eleanor’s purse. The gold was still missing.
Detective DuBois charged Eleanor as an accomplice in the theft of the gold bullion. “A stiff prison sentence awaits you, Mrs. Eleanor Wellington, if not the death penalty for the murder of one Gerald Sacco.”
Chapter 11
───
Milan
“HOTEL PRINCIPE DI SAVOIA, per favore.” Gilly slid into the backseat of the cab as the driver deposited her suitcase in the trunk, drove away from the curb and began weaving through the afternoon traffic. Pulling to a stop in front of a creamy five-story building, the Savoia hotel rose in front of her. The driver jumped out, retrieved her bag, handing it to a bellman. Gilly paid the driver and followed the bellman into the spacious, opulent lobby filled with greenery, and marble tile.
The man across the counter took her name, scanned the registration list, and gave the room number and card key to the bellman. Smiling at Gilly, the attendant wished her an enjoyable visit at the Savoia.
A ride on the elevator, and a short walk down a hallway, the bellman opened the door to her suite.
Murder by Design Trilogy Page 25
