He blew out air loudly. “Honestly? She told me to take a vacation. That she really didn’t need me. She didn’t want me to fix dinner. She didn’t want me to make tea. Frankly, I’ve felt completely and utterly useless…”
“What will you do now?”
“Mr. Schwartz made provisions in his will that I can remain here for as long as I live.”
“That was generous.”
He sat up straight and frowned. “I took care of that man for twenty years. I clipped his toenails. I even, when he was ill, tended to his business after he was done on the toilet. I don’t think it is too much to ask to not be kicked out of my home.”
“Hold up, cowboy. I think you took that completely wrong,” Sydney said. “It’s my job to figure all this out and ask questions”
He sat back and she pressed on.
“Did the will stipulate that Alaia couldn’t sell the house?”
“That’s right.” He settled back, seemingly pacified by her comment.
If she were a detective, Sydney knew she should instantly consider Old Manservant Cyril a suspect. Kill the pesky daughter. Live alone in a mansion in Pacific Heights until he died. Jackpot. But it didn’t feel right. Cyril seemed incapable of killing a mouse. He’d be the one up on a chair screaming and cowering. But who knew? She wasn’t ready to rule him out, yet, but he didn’t feel good for it. Other theories, like something fishy with the Silicon Valley crowd, was a better bet.
She put down her cup. She didn’t really have time for any more niceties. She stood. Blue followed suit.
“Can you show me her room?”
That’s why she was here, after all. She didn’t think Cyril could provide much detail in how or why Alaia disappeared. Unless he had killed her. And she’d circle back around if that started to seem likely.
Cyril smoothed his pants legs as he stood. “There are eight guest rooms in this home. And yet, Alaia decided that she wanted to sleep in the cabana by the pool.” He clucked his disdain.
Sydney had expected to be taken outside—hadn’t he said “pool?”—but instead Cyril led her past a wall of windows that overlooked a massive indoor pool below. The ceiling was made of an elaborate domed skylight.
Cyril pushed the button for an elevator. Sydney balked. “It’s just one flight down. Are there stairs?”
The elevator door slid open revealing a gold phone attached to the wall. He held his arm out for her to go first. Internally shrugging, she stepped inside with Blue at her heels.
Inside the elevator, the lighting was dim. A small, red velvet covered bench was pressed against one wall. Cyril stood pressed against the door, as far away from Blue as he could get.
Sydney jutted her chin at the phone. “Does it work?”
Cyril lifted the receiver to her ear. There was a dial tone. He smiled and hung it back up.
The elevator doors slid open to reveal the pool area. She and Blue followed Cyril along the Italian tiles surrounding the pool to a large free-standing building on the opposite side of the massive space. The cabana.
Cyril flung open the door and then leaned over to flick a light switch. Sydney’s first impression was that it was a room full of clothes and nothing else. “I haven’t touched it since she disappeared,” Cyril said, wrinkling his nose. “Take the elevator back up to the second floor when you are finished and I will see you out.” He gave Blue a wary glance. “Does he need to use the facilities?”
It took her a minute to figure out what the hell the man was talking about.
“He’s fine. Thanks, Cyril,” Sydney said, tempted to punch him in the shoulder and call him “Old chap.” Manservant. How archaic could you get?
Before she stepped inside, Sydney paused, trying to gather a first impression of the girl who had lived here for three months. The photos she’d been sent showed a young woman with dark hair and striking green eyes against olive skin. Her buxom figure was draped in flowing, bright clothing. The floor of the cabana reflected her flamboyant style. A small twin mattress was pushed up against one wall. Everything was bathed in an otherworldly light from the reflection of the blue pool water that seeped in through filmy white curtains.
An open doorway revealed a small bathroom and counter lined with cosmetics and beauty products. The room smelled both exotic and sweet—a mix of tangerine and spice and vanilla.
A tidy row of books, spines facing out, rested against the wall near the head of the mattress. Siddhartha. The Four-Hour Work Week. Boss Babe Manifesto. Taking it all in with a glance, Sydney nodded to herself.
The report from the family attorney had said that Alaia was looking for an investor for a new business venture. She was developing a device—a mobile pod—that would be placed at public locations, such as parks and shopping center, that could scan bodies and immediately send a health report to a doctor or hospital.
Her father’s will had stipulated that once she made her first million, she would inherit the fortune he’d left for her. But until then, the only provisions his will had made for her was house and board.
On the bed, a three-ring notebook was open.
At first, as she made her way over to the bed, Sydney tried not to step on the clothes, but quickly gave up. She eased herself down on the bed, imagining that this was where Alaia sat when she wrote in her notebook. Sydney nodded at Blue—who laid down at the entrance, putting his chin on his paws watching her—and began to read.
Click the title below to download
and keep reading…
Taste of Vengeance
Author’s Note
When I embarked on this self-publishing journey I had no idea what it would entail. At first, it was simply a new way to get my books in front of readers. The books I wanted to write. With the covers I wanted to publish. On my own time schedule.
All of that has been wonderful. I don’t have to whine about ugly covers that don’t sell my books anymore. I can publish six books in six months if I want. I don’t have to wait for people to tell me whether my writing is worthy of entering the world.
When I self-published the fifth book in my Gabriella Giovanni mystery series in September and realized that readers didn’t care who published my books, I knew there was no going back.
In addition, there have been amazing benefits I never dreamed about in this self-publishing world. For instance, the other self-published authors I’ve met have been generous and supportive in sharing their knowledge of this new world.
But the best part of becoming a self-published author was completely unexpected: What I hadn’t realized was that being a self-published author meant a closer relationship with readers.
It has been my favorite part about striking out on my own.
This book is a result of that relationship. I couldn’t have written it with the support and encouragement of my readers. And I couldn’t have done it as well without my street team. They are a loyal team of early readers who help ensure that every book I put out is as free of typos and errors possible. They squeeze in early reads of my books and then carefully hunt down anything that is wrong.
In addition, they often leave reviews before the book launches, helping me to find new readers.
So, in this fifth book in my Gia Santella Crime Thriller series, I want to offer a special thanks to the members of my street team, my Paesanos: Sharon Long, Mikki Ashe, Frank Stancato, Terry Welch, MaryAnne Forbes, Yolunda Altamirano, Iris Brossard, Steve Avery, Loni Crowell, Liz Cronk, Sharon Long, Emily Goehner, Annette Bermudez, Kenneth Lingenfelter, Vickie Johnson, Douglas Cronk, Liz Cronk, Erin Alford, Christine Green, John Bychowski, Kari Isaacson, Mimi Ryan, Emmy McCabe, Darlene Brown, Taloo Carrillo, Beverlee Smith, and Cis Wishnew.
Any errors in my book are because of me changing something after they gave it a read!
I am forever grateful to their support and encouragement.
If I’m very lucky, you might experience even a little of their enthusiasm for my books.
Enjoy.
Kristi
&nb
sp; P.S. If you want to chat, you can find me on my Facebook group page. It’s called Crime, Coffee, & Cannoli. You can find it HERE. It’s the easiest place to reach me. I’m there every day, several times a day. In addition, it’s a great place to meet and interact with a bunch of kick butt readers just like you! Join my Newsletter and receive a free book as a gift or contact me at: www.kristibelcamino.com
Keep In Touch
Click here to join my newsletter and receive the Gia prequel as a free welcome gift.
Not available for sale anywhere.
If you want to chat, you can find me HERE in my Facebook group called Crime, Coffee, & Cannoli. It’s the easiest place to reach me. I’m there every day, several times a day. In addition, it’s a great place to meet and interact with a bunch of kick butt readers just like you!
Kristi’s Bookshelf
Gia Santella Crime Thriller Series
City of the Dead
Forgotten Island
Dark Night of the Soul
Lone Raven
Black Widow
Taste of Vengeance
Day of the Dead
The Gabriella Giovanni Mystery Series
The Saint
(prequel)
Blessed are the Dead
Blessed are the Meek
Blessed are Those Who Weep
Blessed are Those Who Mourn
Blessed are the Peacemakers
Blessed are the Merciful
Did You Like This Book?
Reviews are the lifeblood of this author business. Reviews, honest reviews, mean the world to me. They don’t have to be fancy, either. Nobody is critiquing you on your review. And they don’t always have to be five-star, either. What matters is that people are reading and have opinions on my books. I am a fairly new writer and don’t have the marketing push that many other writers do that gets their books out in front of other readers.
What I do have is you.
I am unbelievably lucky to have very passionate and loyal readers who take the time to let me know what they think of my books (and sometimes even where they think I could improve).
If you liked this book, I would be extremely grateful if you could take a few minutes out of your day to leave a review for Gia and the Black Widow on your favorite ebook retailer.
As I said, it doesn’t need to be long or involved, anything will help. Thank you!
About the Author
Kristi Belcamino is an Agatha, Anthony, Barry, & Macavity Award-nominated author, a newspaper cops reporter, and an Italian mama who makes a tasty biscotti. As an award-winning crime reporter at newspapers in California, she flew over Big Sur in an FA-18 jet with the Blue Angels, raced a Dodge Viper at Laguna Seca and watched autopsies.
Her books feature strong, fierce, and independent women facing unspeakable evil in order to seek justice for those unable to do so themselves.
Belcamino has written and reported about many high-profile cases including the Laci Peterson murder and Chandra Levy’s disappearance. She has appeared on Inside Edition and her work has appeared in the New York Times, Writer’s Digest, Miami Herald, San Jose Mercury News, and Chicago Tribune. Kristi now works part-time as a police reporter at the St. Paul Pioneer Press. She lives in Minneapolis with her husband and her two fierce daughters.
Find out more at www.kristibelcamino.com. Find her on Facebook at or on Twitter . Sign up for her newsletter list HERE and receive a free novella as a welcome gift. Follow her on Bookbub for information on discounts, specials and new releases.
Black Widow Page 12
