by Jade Astor
“You’re right,” he told Argo when he returned from the pool room. “I do try to control things and people. Maybe that’s why I went into teaching. In my classroom, I’m in charge of everything. Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself I don’t have the same power once I step off campus.”
Argo nodded, clearly relieved. “Sometimes it’s better to sit back and observe. You can learn more that way.”
“Ha. Says the guy who’s in charge of keeping a whole county full of people on the straight and narrow. Well, okay, maybe not so straight.”
Argo smiled, shook his head, and dropped onto the couch beside Darian.
“You remember how I had therapy after I was shot. I haven’t talked about it much, maybe because I’m still trying to internalize everything I learned. But letting go of this idea that I could manage the world was a big part of my recovery. I realized all I can do is try to provide a positive influence on the people I interact with and the events unfolding around me. I can’t intervene in things beyond my reach.”
“That makes sense, I guess. Don’t we all grasp that at some level, though? It doesn’t stop us from trying.”
“The problem starts when frustration wears us down. When I first started out, I told myself if I stayed alert, kept focused, and came down hard on anyone who stepped out of line, I could keep my law-abiding citizens safe and intimidate the rest into following rules. I learned differently soon enough.”
“It’s not so different from teaching. I remember my first few weeks. I was convinced that if I just focused on my own love of literature, and showed passion for learning, the students would respond. Wow, was I in for a rude shock.”
“I should have backed off. Instead, I doubled down. The stress got worse. Then that crap went down at the convenience store…and I almost lost you. It took me a while, but I got my act together. I don’t need to be at the wheel all the time anymore. It felt liberating. And best of all, I got you back.”
Darian smiled. He held Argo’s hand. The closeness helped. “I wish I shared your confidence—about everything. So much can go south here. If Ange is charged, hiring a high-powered attorney could bankrupt her and Rikki. The accusation alone would ruin her. She’d lose her job at the college. And that’s before she’s even acquitted—assuming she would be. You know how some jurors might think. What they might assume.”
“We’re going to get through this,” Argo said. “We’re going to figure this out. They’re not going to railroad either one of your moms while we’re here. I don’t think Lanislaw would do that, but even if he did, I wouldn’t stand for it.”
“You think we can trust him to handle the crime scene, though.”
“That’s what I’m saying, yeah.”
Darian sighed. “Time to talk to my mom, I guess.”
“As good a time as any.” Argo stood, still clutching Darian’s hand. “Let’s go.”
They found Ange at the computer, fully absorbed in her research. At least she was keeping herself busy, Darian thought. Better than sitting around tearing her hair out with worry, like he was tempted to do. But then, Ange always found refuge from life’s less pleasant challenges in her work.
“Rikki’s gone to the hotel, I think,” she said without turning from the screen. “More trouble, it sounds like.”
“We know. We caught her before she left,” Darian said. “Mom, we need to talk to you.”
“You’re absolutely right. While you boys were out, I found some information that might be useful to our case.”
“You’ve been researching the murder?” Darian remembered just in time not to make it plural.
“Sure. We’ll never get anywhere without a thorough understanding of the people involved. Background is essential.”
“Smart move,” Argo said, clearly impressed. “I start all my investigations the same way. My deputy, Cutler, knows his way around police databases.”
“I may not have access to those, but years of tracking down plagiarized student papers taught me a trick or two.” Ange tapped her keyboard and brought up a cascade of bookmarked web pages. “We can take screen shots of all this and print off a hard copy. We can make extras for Lanislaw, too. Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t do this the minute Rikki started working for that interloper. Distracted by solipsism, I suppose.”
“Occupational hazard,” Darian agreed, biting back a smile. “Show us what you found.”
“As you might expect, I started with a search on the name Gabrielle Duval. I only unearthed one surprise, which I’ll get to shortly. Mostly ads for the various travel services she worked for prior to inheriting the hotel. Her most successful venture was a castle-tour business for rich Americans. She’d scrape a bunch of them together and arrange for them to live like royalty for a few weeks. Somehow she convinced minor European nobles, or at least people who could pass for them, to entertain her and her entourage in grand style. Here’s a web page she made for one of her most popular jaunts. I’m not sure if her customers realized it’s not a real castle, just a Victorian-era knockoff some eccentric lord commissioned. But then, it was always the fantasy they wanted, so maybe they didn’t care. Most Americans are too spoiled to tolerate the discomforts of a genuine medieval keep.”
Ange tilted the screen so they could see a collection of photos featuring smiling, well-fed older people. They posed next to suits of armor and lush full-length paintings of aristocrats in capes and plumed headgear.
“There’s Gerald Lampson,” Darian said, pointing to one shot. “The guy who showed up at the party.”
“So it’s true he was a long-time friend of Gabrielle’s,” Argo bent closer to examine the photo. In it, the silver-haired man they had seen chatting with Gabrielle and Zara. Gabrielle was in the picture, too, standing between Lampson and an attractive middle-aged woman. Flanking them were two teenagers, a boy and girl who were clearly the offspring of Mr. and Mrs. Lampson.
“Well, he seems respectable to the point of boredom,” Darian observed, disappointed. Then he brightened. “That might make him our best suspect, right?”
“His previous connection to Gabrielle puts him on the radar,” Argo said. “Still, I assume Lanislaw knows all this, and allowed him to check out anyway. He must have an alibi of some kind.”
“We’ll have to verify it. I can see a number of possible motives. Maybe he and Gabrielle were having an affair, and one of them wanted to break it off. What better place to have a heart-to-heart talk than on an empty moonlit beach?”
Argo nodded. “Plus they were in business together, so maybe she double-crossed him financially.”
“About the business angle,” Ange interrupted, shifting her attention back to the keyboard. “Gabrielle turned a huge profit on those castle tours in more ways than one. She met her husband because he was a client.”
A new set of photos replaced the Lampson family on the screen. These showed Gabrielle, her elderly husband, and his two adult daughters posing at their swanky wedding. The bride looked radiantly triumphant, the groom happy if a bit vacant, and the daughters utterly miserable.
“Those are Gabrielle’s stepdaughters,” Ange told them. “Maizi and Brionna. If looks could kill, we wouldn’t need to search much further, would we?”
“Kyle mentioned them, along with some fairly sordid details.” Darian bent closer to get a better look.
“You said you found one surprise,” Argo said. “What was it?”
“Just this—Gabrielle had no web presence at all before she got involved with those castle tours. That’s not shocking in itself—she might have simply not participated in social media until she started up her business. I thought of another possibility, though, which might be more relevant to our current concerns.”
“A name change,” Argo guessed.
“How about a total identity change? There was always something phony about her. Now that I think about it, maybe she was a total fake from top to bottom.”
As he gazed at the screen, Darian felt something mentall
y snap into place. He drew back, startled.
“Argo, that woman on the left—Maizi? She’s the person I saw on the beach. She was coming up the patio steps just before we found Gabrielle’s body.”
Chapter 12
Darian didn’t bother to contain his excitement. “I’m sure it’s her.”
“Darian,” his mom began, but he waved her off.
“It was dark, and I only caught a brief glimpse of her, but this changes everything! Lanislaw didn’t believe me when I told him before, but now we have proof. Argo, we need to call him right now.”
Ange tried again. “Darian, wait.”
“It makes total sense that she’s the killer. Kyle told us she and her sister hated Gabrielle and felt she’d cheated them out of their father’s hotel. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were in on it together. If we check the security cameras, we might find both of them sneaking around. Maybe there’s even a shot of one sister inviting Gabrielle out to the beach for a private talk. Meanwhile, the other one was lying in wait—”
“Darian!” Ange shouted this time. “Stop! I already knew Maizi was at the hotel that night. I know why, too. She was meeting with Rikki.”
“She was…what?”
Ange nodded. “It’s true. Rikki told me everything after you left. Bruno Marchetti’s daughter, Maizi, is the person who hired Rikki to dig up dirt on Gabrielle.”
“We knew that,” Argo verified.
“Right. She meets Rikki secretly now and then so they can trade information and talk strategy. That was why she was crashing the party, though Maizi couldn’t come through the front entrance for fear Gabrielle would see her. Instead, she took a shortcut around the side and entered via the patio. They both figured Maizi could blend into the crowd and gather some intel on her own. If Gabrielle saw her, Rikki was supposed to make a show of kicking her out and threatening to get a restraining order. Maizi thought that would make Gabrielle trust Rikki even more, possibly getting her to reveal something incriminating.”
“What made Maizi so sure Gabrielle was up to no good?” Argo asked. “Did she have any actual evidence, or was she just acting out of dislike for her stepmother?”
“It wasn’t evidence per se. From what she told Rikki, her father was a capable businessman at one time, but in his later years he lost interest in the daily grind and simply appointed people, most of them barely competent or not particularly honest, to manage his holdings and run Mermaid Towers for him. Rikki confirmed that the place was in the red and slipping deeper the entire time she worked there. Suddenly, within a few months of Gabrielle taking it over, the budget was big enough to support a complete remodel of the lobby and restaurant, among other upgrades, along with hefty pay raises and bonuses for Gabrielle and her most trusted circle. The old man’s life insurance alone wouldn’t have covered all that. Rikki didn’t like it from the beginning. When Maizi suggested the money might be creeping in through some kind of back door, she listened.”
“I assume she told Lanislaw all this,” Argo said.
“Yes. She planned to tell you, too, but she and I needed to talk first. That was the reason she seemed to be…you know, sneaking around.” Ange blushed faintly. “Anyway, we got all that resolved between us. Then this thing with Carl happened. I told her I’d fill you in. Please don’t be mad at her. She’s got a lot going on—and she was trying to keep her promise of secrecy to Maizi.”
“What about the other sister? Darian might be right about them working together.”
“According to Maizi, her sister isn’t interested in the hotel or Gabrielle’s shady dealings. She prefers to focus on the well-to-do gentlemen at the local yacht club, many of whom are conveniently widowed or divorced. Much easier to marry into a fortune than kill for it, right?”
“Even if that’s true, it doesn’t exonerate either sister. We should talk to them, if Rikki can arrange it.” Argo’s confident tone made Darian’s chest swell with pride. It was nice being taken seriously as an equal partner in an investigation for a change. Of course, he doubted that would continue once Argo was back behind his own desk, but he could enjoy the achievement while it lasted.
“I’m sure she’d be willing to do that,” Ange said. “Maizi wants the case solved as soon as possible. Presumably she and her sister are next in line for the hotel now that Gabrielle’s out of the picture. Though that probably counts as a motive, doesn’t it?”
“A pretty good one, I’d say,” Darian said.
“And two people working together might explain a few other inconsistencies Lanislaw noticed at the scene.” Argo didn’t elaborate, but Darian knew he was referring to the presence of a knife and the absence of a ligature. He apparently intended to respect Lanislaw’s request for confidentiality on that score, even around Ange.
A new thought struck him. “Wait a minute, though. Maizi and Brionna might be eager to get rid of Gabrielle, but why would they want to kill Carl? And would they be able to drag him into the men’s steam room without attracting attention? I mean, that’s almost as hard to believe as Mom doing it.”
“Not necessarily,” Ange chimed in. “Since their father owned the hotel, they’d presumably be familiar with all its nooks and crannies, not to mention the staff schedules and routines. They probably heard about Carl’s vendetta against Gabrielle, too—after that scene in the restaurant, who didn’t? Easiest thing in the world to lure him down there under one pretext or another. As for why—well, maybe Carl witnessed the attack on Gabrielle. Or maybe Rikki wasn’t the only spy they set in motion inside the hotel. From everything we’ve heard, Carl seems the type to double cross or blackmail whomever he pleased.”
“Should we call Rikki?” Darian suggested. “Maybe she can set up a meeting today.”
“I’m on it.” Ange reached for her phone and hit speed dial. No sooner had Rikki picked up than someone pounded at the front door. Darian heard Rikki’s voice coming through the speaker, sounding agitated, though he couldn’t quite make out the words. The rapping from the next room grew more insistent. Darian recognized the sound. Argo called it a cop knock.
“We’ll get that while you talk to Rikki,” Argo said, motioning to Darian. He closed up the study behind them. “Come on.”
Sure enough, they found an impatient Lanislaw on the step. At least he didn’t have any uniforms with him, suggesting that he hadn’t come to arrest Ange. His thundercloud expression, though, made Darian uneasy.
“I’ve come to talk to Darian’s mother,” he said, his gaze drifting over Argo’s shoulder toward the hallway and the closed study door. “As promised.”
“I’m afraid she isn’t here right now.” Argo shifted his weight, casually blocking Lanislaw’s view with his broad shoulders. “She went out a while ago. Something about an appointment with her attorney. We’ll be happy to give her a message, though.”
Lanislaw sighed, clearly not fooled but apparently unwilling to press the point.
“Okay. I shouldn’t tell you this, but consider it a courtesy to a fellow lawman. A confidential witness claims to have seen Angela Winter hanging around the employees-only staircase last night, like she was waiting for someone. The witness later saw Carl sneaking off in the same direction. It looked very much like they were planning to meet in some out-of-the-way area where they wouldn’t be overheard. The employee lockers at night fits that bill.”
“That’s a lie,” Darian blurted.
Lanislaw scowled. “You might be surprised to hear this, but I tend to agree with you. The witness isn’t exactly what I’d call the most reliable source. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“It’s Kyle, isn’t it? He’d say anything to save his own skin. He probably wants to get back at me because I wouldn’t—uh, well, because he resents some of the choices I’ve made during the course of our friendship.” Darian felt himself blush. “Our so-called friendship, that is.”
Argo rescued him from embarrassing himself even more. “It’s not uncommon for someone to lie out of self-preservation, e
ither. Or your supposed witness might have misinterpreted the situation. We know Ange was in the hotel late, looking for her car. And we have reason to believe Carl had been squatting in the hotel for some time. The two sightings might be unrelated.”
“I’m aware of all that.” Lanislaw nodded. “My purpose in coming here is to follow up on a new lead. You understand what I’m saying, Argo.”
Darian jumped in before Argo could respond. “So you’re not charging my mom?”
“Not at this time, but deciding to prosecute isn’t my decision alone.” Lanislaw fidgeted. “It’s not looking good for her, I’ll admit, even if I have my doubts about a few elements of the case as it currently stands.”
“We appreciate your candor.” Argo leaned sideways, resting one hand on the doorjamb. “When Darian’s mother gets back, we’ll tell her you want to talk to her. She’ll have her lawyer get in touch.”
Taking the hint, Lanislaw stepped back. “I’ll take some time to verify my witness’s statement, if I can. I can give you twenty-four hours, Argo. After that, Darian’s mother will either need to present herself at the station for a formal interview, or I’ll be back here with a warrant and a female officer. I assume that’s a clear enough message to pass on?”
“It is,” Argo said. He and Darian watched Lanislaw walk down the driveway and back to his car. Only when he drove away did Argo close and lock the front door.
“The coast is clear, Mom,” Darian called. “He’s gone.”
