Allison Campbell Mystery Series Boxed Set: Books 1-4

by Wendy Tyson

  “I figured she was busy getting her MBA on the sly.”

  The smile faded. “Did she tell you that?”

  “No, I was joking.”

  He looked down at the glass in his hand, trying to recover. But it was too late. Allison had seen the chink in his armor. She decided to prod.

  “She did say she’d read an MBA’s worth of books, though.”

  “That doesn’t make her an expert.”

  “And she used to counsel your father on business matters behind closed doors.”

  “He humored her, I’m sure.”

  “Why are you so against your aunt running Benini Enterprises?”

  He put the glass in a cabinet, turned to face her, his handsome features twisted with indignation. “It’s not in her best interest.”

  Allison thought of Francesca’s vultures. “That sounds bad, Alex. Especially considering what’s happened.”

  “It wasn’t meant to. She’s old, eccentric. The shareholders would never accept her.”

  “Maybe they would. She’s also bright and, from what I saw, very knowledgeable. And motivated. Don’t forget motivated.”

  “It will never happen. If she decides to return, she will have changed her mind.”

  “You sound awfully sure that she left of her own volition.”

  Alex met her gaze. His look was penetrating. Allison felt her stomach tighten. She blamed the wine, the sunset, the glorious meal. She looked away.

  “You read the same diary I did, Allison. My mother painted a picture of a woman with nothing to live for.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true.”

  Alex pulled up a chair and sat close to Allison.

  Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body, smell the scent of his spicy aftershave. “Why do you think Francesca came to the States, Allison?”

  His voice was low, melodic. Allison played with her half-empty glass. “Adventure? To see a new country?”

  He smiled, that look of perpetual amusement back in his eyes. “No. It was a marriage gone wrong. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

  Alex had her attention.

  “She never mentioned being married.”

  “I don’t even know his name. My great-grandmother traded Aunt Francesca the way you would a cow or goat. A local family with lots of land, rivals of the Benini family dating back to my great, great, great, great grandfather, the duke. She wanted to increase the Benini wealth and stature, thought her sixteen-year-old granddaughter could do that for her.”

  Allison recalled the news article Francesca had given her—about an ongoing family feud. “An arranged marriage?”

  He nodded. “The man was older. Controlling, mean. I don’t know what he did to her, exactly, but it was bad enough that she went running home to Daddy. For the first time in his life, my grandfather defied his mother.”

  “He didn’t make her go back?”

  “He shipped her to America. To my parents.”

  Allison thought about this. Rather than answering questions, it raised even more. She remembered the diary. “Your mother mentioned an asylum in her diary.”

  “I don’t know any details. I think they needed to do something with Francesca, and it was a convent, an asylum, or America.”

  Interesting. “You’d think a woman who escaped a fate like that would embrace her new-found freedom in a new country.”

  “You’d think,” Alex said.

  “Unless...”

  Alex leaned closer. He touched Allison’s chin, pulled it forward. Her head spun. She felt his breath on her cheek, his shoulder against her shoulder. Those blue eyes searched her own, held her. His mouth was inches away.

  She wanted to give in. She knew he was a player, but somehow, that made him more attractive. No worry about relationships, commitment. Just a little fun. The stress, the alcohol, there were a hundred excuses for impulsive longing.

  None of them forgivable.

  Allison pushed back against the island, moving away from Alex. She saw a momentary flash of disappointment, then anger. He’s annoyed he can’t have me, Allison thought. He thinks I’ll eventually give in. And he’s probably very used to getting what he wants.

  “Unless?”

  Allison found her voice. “Unless she’d suffered something so terrible that she couldn’t recover.”

  Alex stood, flicked on the living room lights, his attempt at seduction over. “My aunt is no more capable of running Benini Enterprises than Simone, though for different reasons. She ran away. I am quite sure of it. Let’s hope that when she returns, she’s come to her senses.”

  Allison remained seated. She fingered the edge of the diary. “You promised me answers if I came here tonight.”

  “Haven’t I delivered?”

  “I’m curious about two things.”

  He waited, arms crossed.

  “One, I understand that Francesca gets control of the company upon your father’s death, but who gets the house and the rest of his assets?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Ms. Campbell, I wouldn’t expect that language from you.”

  “You promised me the truth.”

  “Very well.” With a weary glance in her direction, he said, “Simone gets a life estate in the house and a tidy sum of cash. Enough to see her through to the beyond. The rest of my father’s assets will be split between Francesca and his kids.”

  “How about the company?”

  “We haven’t seen the will yet.”

  “I’m sure you knew his estate plan before he fell ill. With all that money and power at stake, you were sure to know.”

  “Francesca gets the controlling half of the company. She also has a life estate in the house, and one-fourth of the remainder of his cash and stocks.” He looked down at his hands, examined his nails. “She’s a very rich woman, even in the company’s current state. And at the helm of Benini Enterprises? Very powerful, too. Powerful enough to ruin us.”

  Allison paused, considering what he’d just said. “And you, Dom, and Maria?”

  “We share equally in the remainder of his cash and stocks. And we each get an eleven percent ownership in the business.”

  Allison arched an eyebrow. “Only eleven percent?”

  “My father owned sixty-six percent of the business, outside shareholders the other thirty-four percent. Half of his portion went to Francesca, along with control. We share the rest.”

  Allison thought about this, yet another piece making sense.

  With thirty-four percent of the business in the hands of outsiders, and no one family member holding the rest, the family risked losing control.

  The other shareholders could act in consort, taking over control of Benini Enterprises and ousting the Benini family—unless a majority of the Beninis acted together. No wonder Francesca had so desperately wanted help. She couldn’t risk that. And neither could the rest of the family.

  Allison said, “Eleven percent. That must feel like a slap in the face.”

  “Why? What did we do to deserve more?”

  “Dom has been working for Benini Enterprises for years. Even you and Maria have a role.”

  “It was my father’s company to do as he pleased.” Alex shrugged, then sat. “Besides, his hands were tied. He agreed to those terms for Francesca when he took over the company from my grandfather.”

  “Despite your great-grandmother’s displeasure at the failed marriage?”

  “By then, she was gone.”

  “What about Maria’s portion? What happens now?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Simone.”

  Allison believed him this time. “If something happens to Francesca, do you know who gets control of the company?”

  “Dom and me.”

  “
What about Francesca’s other assets?”

  “That I don’t know. I’m not privy to the terms of her will.”

  She looked at him, skeptical. “Really? You have no idea?”

  “Really, Allison. I have no idea.” He smiled. “Are you done?”

  “My last set of questions.” Allison pushed back a stray tendril of blonde hair and tucked it behind her ear. Alex was watching her from his perch on the couch. She knew she was testing his patience. “Tell me about your uncles, John and Enzo.”

  “That’s awfully open-ended. Can you narrow it down?”

  “Why did they come to the States?”

  “As I understand it, they were sent by Gina’s parents.”

  “Your mother came from a wealthy family?”

  “Quite the opposite. They were peasants with too many kids. Clearly they believed the Catholic Church’s edict against birth control.”

  “Then how did they buy the bakery?” Allison finally gave voice to the question that had bothered her all along, but watching Alex now, she wasn’t sure he knew the real answer.

  “Like any immigrants, I imagine. They scrimped and saved.”

  “There was that horrible fire. Your poor uncle. Was its origin ever discovered?”

  “If you mean was it arson, I don’t think so.”

  Allison hesitated. “The brothers, did they get a large settlement?”

  “I imagine. Enough to buy the farm, at least.” Alex looked genuinely perplexed by Allison’s questions. “Why do you want to know? What could this possibly have to do with my aunt’s disappearance?”

  Allison shook her head. Her gut said it was connected, that someone was paying off the Pittaluga brothers, with both the bakery and the farm. She just wished she knew why.

  Allison was back at the inn before ten o’clock. She peeled off her clothes, set the shower on its highest setting, and stood under the hot spray until her body felt clean and the evening had receded to its proper place in her mind. She felt confused, angry, but also, oddly energized. Whether Alex realized it or not, he had given her some important information.

  She needed to digest it, figure out what was a red herring—and what could yield results.

  After drying off, she traded the hotel towel for her Target pajamas. Hair still wet, she sat on the bed with her notebook in hand. She made notes, continuing the list she and Vaughn had started.

  Something was niggling at her, tickling the edges of her consciousness.

  Something about the family dynamic.

  Francesca’s failed marriage, her relationship with Gina. Alex and those eyes, amused one moment, forlorn the next. So expressive. A boy rejected by his mother, growing up in a home so large and opulent, but ultimately claustrophobic. A brother and sister sharing a manor, one protecting the other. And a family cursed by suicide, fire, disfigurement.

  And bubbling beneath was the family business. Once a true enterprise, now a failing company with thirty-four percent of the stock owned by non-family members. Demanding change. Valuing tradition. Rejecting a female leader.

  Shareholders in a foreign land?

  The phone rang. Mia. Allison picked up right away, thrilled to be talking to someone from home.

  “You should come back,” Mia said. “I’m beginning to think it’s too dangerous for you to be up there alone.”

  “Now you sound like your son.”

  “Maybe my son has a point.”

  Allison sighed. “I’ll be on my way tomorrow night. My flight’s at seven.”

  There was a pause followed by the sound of a dog barking. Mia said, “There’s some information you should know.”

  With Buddy still barking in the background, Mia recounted her discussion with Benjamin Gretchko, her encounter with Svengetti, the strange Michael Jiff, and the underground bunker. She spoke quickly, words spilling from her mouth as though she were in a race to get them out.

  When she was finished, Allison said, “Holy hell, Mia. You want to talk dangerous, you’ve had a far more adventurous run than I have.”

  “Look, Allison, adventure aside, we think Benini Enterprises is involved with the Mob. The Russian Mob.” Mia explained the land in Italy, their theory that Benini Enterprises and the Gretchko family could be connected.

  Allison considered what she was hearing. On some level, it fit—and she and Vaughn had wondered the same thing. The secrets, Razinski’s odd behavior at the coffee bar in Ithaca. An organized crime family would have friends in high places. Police could be compromised, or at least silenced. Or an upright cop, like she believed Razinski to be, might be unwilling to act without proof. Afraid of the repercussions for being wrong.

  Allison thought about the land deal pulled at the last minute. Because something more lucrative was at hand? Something that had the potential for pulling Benini Enterprises from potential ruin? If the Gretchko family had connections overseas, Benini Enterprises could be a perfect target company. Land for dumping, plus, with the variety of Benini’s legitimate business operations, the opportunity for money laundering. The Gretchko family maintains respectability. The Benini family keeps its shareholders—and the corporate bottom line—happy.

  Allison saw the business as the thread, the thing that seemed to weave together a few of the pieces of otherwise disparate cloth.

  But whole squares of cloth in this odd patchwork mystery still remained. Like how did Tammy fit in? And what about Gina Benini? What did she have to do with any of this? And what about the Pittaluga brothers?

  And where the hell was Francesca?

  Allison told Mia about the ownership structure of Benini Enterprises. “Things are starting to make sense. Someone in Benini could have made a deal with the devil to save Benini Enterprises from financial ruin and to maintain control. The most likely candidate is Dom. And he has the most to lose if Francesca heads the company.”

  “Especially if she’s against this deal.”

  “Exactly. But we have some missing pieces, and we can’t go to the police without a clearer picture. One of the main things we need is something tying Benini Enterprises and the Gretchkos. That is, anything, other than me.” She took a breath, thought about her list of open questions. “Can you ask Jamie to look into a few things?”

  “Shoot.”

  “One, ask him to see if there have been any large influxes of cash into Benini Enterprises. Money that may have been given to seal a deal with the Gretchkos.”

  “Two?”

  “Get me what you can on the Gretchko family. Articles, bios, anything. Scour for a connection.” Allison thought about Tammy, music, Alex’s saxophone. “And it may be a long shot, but see if you can find anything that ties Alex and Tammy within the music world.”

  “We tried that angle and came up empty.”

  Damn. Allison thought of her dinner with Alex. Of the easy way he slipped between business persona and playboy. “How about the Benini family? Can you check out each one? Simone, Alex, even Jackie? Especially Dom. What are his vices? Criminal history, gambling, drugs, prostitutes. Anything you can dig up that could make him vulnerable.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not for now.”

  “Allison?”

  “Yes, Mia?”

  “Stay safe.”

  Allison smiled. “I intend to. Call me tomorrow?”

  “First thing,” Mia said. “We’ll get on this stuff tonight.”

  Thirty-Seven

  Morning couldn’t come quickly enough. Allison tossed and turned her way through another night, high on adrenaline and the feeling that they were on the cusp of a breakthrough. She lay in bed, thinking about Jamie’s discovery and Mia’s information about the Gretchko family. They were connected. Tammy on the run, Francesca missing, these were not coincidences.

  She wished there was a way to find Tammy. Maybe there was.

&nb
sp; At 6:19, Allison pulled open her laptop and did a search. She remembered reading about metadata, the information imbedded in photos to pinpoint the location the photo was taken. Maybe they could home in on Tammy’s whereabouts that way.

  Energized, Allison took a quick shower and got dressed. At 6:48, Allison’s phone rang. It was Vaughn, calling to fill her in on what they’d found and to hear firsthand what she’d been doing in Ithaca.

  She told him about her side trip to the Pittaluga brothers’ farm and dinner with Alex Benini and he’d reacted just as she expected. With barely-disguised rage. “Allison, I’m coming there. This has gone far enough.”

  “No, I’m fine. You need to stay there.” Allison pulled on one shoe, then the other. “Anyway, there are a few things I need you and Jamie to do. And I’ll be on my way home later today.”

  “This isn’t up for debate.”

  “You’re right. It’s not. I’m fine. I have a few loose ends to tie up here, and then I’ll be home.” She softened her voice. “Look, I know you’re worried. I promise to be careful, Vaughn. I don’t want any history repeats, either. But this thing is bigger than any of us. Let’s put it to bed. At least our part. We’re finally getting somewhere.”

  “Maybe.” Vaughn hesitated. Exhaustion seemed to have won out over anger, because next he said, “Let me tell you what we found.”

  “Please.”

  “You were right about the cash. A shell company in the Bahamas paid a years’ cash up front for lease of the land in Calabria. Payments began before the other deal was revoked. Care to guess how much?”

  “Twice what they would have gotten for the land if they’d sold it outright?”

  “Three times. And that’s not all. We checked out Dom’s personal credit. Your hunch was right.”

  “Player?”

  “Gambler. In debt for half a mil this year alone.”

  “Sheesh.”

  “It gets better. He’s been paying off debts, one by one, in increments less than ten thousand dollars.”

  “They’re paying him off, too?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Alex? Simone? Maria?”

  “Nothing on Maria or Alex. Paolo was Simone’s fourth marriage. First one was at eighteen, lasted three months. Other than a crappy history with men, she checked out.”