Allison Campbell Mystery Series Boxed Set: Books 1-4

by Wendy Tyson

  Elle shrugged her thin shoulders. “I guess. Why?”

  “I’m just wondering.”

  They started walking again. Elle took a left at the top of a pass, toward a sign for a rifugio, a small hut along the trail that served food to hikers, four kilometers ahead.

  “It’s funny,” Elle said, “my most vivid memories of my mother are from simple times. Wrapping Christmas gifts together. Or baking bread. Despite being an actress, my mom was a good cook. She liked homey things. Decorating. Canning.” Elle glanced at Allison. “Does that surprise you?”

  Allison didn’t know much about Elle’s actress mother, at least nothing other than what was published in the media. Fawn Langley had been beautiful. She’d starred in half a dozen lesser-known films, and had one or two bigger roles during her career. Her romance with rock star Sam Norton had been fodder for the tabloids. When the coupling produced Elle, sleazier news outlets questioned whether Sam was really Elle’s father. Fawn had been vehement about protecting her daughter. She’d also been vehement about her right to party. She was found dead at thirty-six with a needle still sticking out of her emaciated arm. Hard to reconcile that image with a woman who baked bread and canned beets.

  “Tell me more,” Allison said. They’d rounded a bend and ahead was a steep upward climb toward a series of boulders just sprinkled with sparse vegetation. Allison stared at the path, dreading the climb. She kept going.

  “There’s not much more to tell. I know people thought of my mom as a wild child, some glamourous starlet whose life ended way too soon. To me she was just Mom.” Elle paused, looking at Allison. “I really think she loved me.”

  Elle’s hopeful tone tugged at Allison’s heart. “It sounds like you were everything to her.”

  Elle nodded. They climbed for a few minutes in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and labored breathing. Where the path had split, they’d entered public park land, and Allison could see another duo heading their way, descending from the top of the trail.

  “My father was never the same,” Elle said when the couple—octogenarians, by the look of them—passed. “After that, he drank away his grief.”

  “Did you see much of him?”

  “Not really. I mean I lived with him, but mostly I stayed with a series of nannies, each one younger and more limber than the next.” Elle smiled, but there was no mirth there. “As you can imagine, Sam bedded most of them. Two even became my stepmothers. For a short while, anyway.” She turned, her face shadowed by an imposing boulder. “At one point, he had two so-called nannies living with us. I walked in on them.” She made a face. “Not something you want to see when you’re a teenager.”

  Or at any age, Allison thought. Something Elle had said gave Allison pause. “Michael is younger than you, right?”

  “Nine years.”

  “And his mother is Clarice McCue?”

  Elle nodded. “That’s my understanding.”

  “Was Clarice one of these so-called nannies?”

  Elle laughed. “No, no. Clarice wasn’t a caretaker.”

  “How did Clarice and your father meet?”

  “Clarice was an unlikely choice for my father. Unlike my mother, the young groupies he slept with, or the nannies he screwed—” Elle looked pointedly at Allison, “and make no mistake, it was just sex—Clarice was kind of normal. She kept his books.”

  “She was an accountant?”

  “Bizarre, right? But yes, Clarice was one of his accountants.”

  They’d reached the top of the incline, and Allison needed a rest. She climbed onto one of the boulders and pulled her camera out of her bag. The vista was amazing. From her perch on the rock, she could see the largest peaks in the distance, capped by dolomite and shrouded in clouds. Green pastures, Swiss-style chalets, and clusters of trees dotted the landscape in between. She snapped a few pictures, mulling over what Elle had told her.

  “So Clarice had access to the foundation’s finances?”

  Elle was climbing up onto the boulder next to Allison. She gulped some water before answering. “No,” she said finally between gasps for air. “Pay It Forward didn’t exist yet. Clarice was an accountant for my dad.”

  “So she knew his net worth?”

  “I would assume.”

  “Was she still working with him before her death?”

  Elle shook her head. “No way. Dad fired her soon after they divorced. He always felt guilty about that.”

  “Why?”

  “They’d had a prenup. She got almost nothing. And she hated him for it.”

  “Did he leave her?”

  Elle stretched her legs out in front of her on the boulder, face up to the sun. “No, she left him. After finding him with one of my nannies.”

  “And still she got nothing?”

  Elle’s mouth twisted into a biting smile. “Dad was smart. The prenup said if she left him, with or without cause, she received nothing.”

  “So Michael was already born?”

  “He came after the divorce.”

  “And still she left your dad, knowing she was pregnant?”

  “Couldn’t take it, I guess. The other women, that is. I think she loved my father, and it tore her apart. Clarice wanted Dad to herself. To him, she was just a novelty—a smart girl for a change. Turned him on, at least for a little while. I don’t remember much. Clarice lived with us, but she was rarely home.” Elle’s face darkened. “Maybe I am like my dad after all. He always felt guilty about leaving Clarice. He didn’t know she was pregnant. When Clarice died and Michael came forward, his acceptance of Michael was a way to make amends, I think.”

  “Did your dad ever question Michael’s paternity?”

  Elle straightened up. “Sam had a paternity test done. Why?”

  “Doesn’t it seem odd that Clarice never told Sam about the baby? She may have received nothing for herself under the prenup, but a baby? That would have gotten her child support surely.”

  Elle was quiet. “I never thought about that. I’m not sure why Clarice never came forward. Maybe she hated my dad that much. Or maybe she didn’t want to share Michael.” Elle hopped down off the boulder. “Ready to head back?”

  Allison looked up, toward the path. It continued to climb toward the rifugio, which was just visible nestled in the hills ahead. “Sure,” she said.

  Allison followed her client down the path toward the castle. While her sore legs trotted alongside Elle, her mind swirled with what she’d just learned. A scorned woman. A surprise offspring. Two dead people. Could they all be related?

  She glanced at her companion. Elle looked lost in thought, her face a mask of deliberation. Finally, Elle said, “Do you believe in ghosts, Allison?”

  “Not really.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  “But you do now?”

  Elle stared straight ahead toward the tree line below. Her voice, however, wavered. “Someone has been watching me. At first I thought it was Michael. But the presence feels feminine. Now I’m thinking that maybe it’s my mother.” She stole a glance at Allison. “You think I’m crazy?”

  “No, Elle, I don’t.” But I do think you could be in danger, Allison thought. And it’s time to talk to Balzan myself.

  TWENTY-TWO

  By the time they returned to the castle, Balzan had left, but his translator was still packing up in the makeshift office he’d set up inside.

  “Can I help you?” Julia asked when Allison poked her head inside.

  “I need to speak with Inspector Balzan.”

  “I’m afraid he won’t be back for another day or so.”

  “Can you tell him I need to talk with him?”

  The translator put down the file she’d been organizing. “What would you like to discuss?”

  “I’d rather wait for the inspector.”

  “I
see.” Julia completed her task of straightening the files. She placed them one by one in a leather case, stopping only when the last one was away and the sturdy container was locked. She looked up as though surprised Allison was still standing there.

  “So will you give the inspector my message?” Allison asked. “That I need to speak with him?”

  “I won’t see him until tomorrow. If it’s urgent, you should call him straight away.”

  “He doesn’t speak English. I’m not sure what good a call would do.”

  “Ah, yes.” Julia fumbled with her phone. “It is urgent, then?”

  “No, not urgent,” Allison said, her blood pressure climbing. “I’d just like to speak with him.”

  Julia gave her a blank stare. Clearly in her world things were either an emergency or not important at all—there was no in between. After a moment, Julia punched a text message into her phone. The phone beeped a few seconds later.

  “Inspector Balzan says to meet him at the station tomorrow at eleven in the morning. I’ll be there to translate.”

  Allison nodded. “Where is the station?”

  “Up the mountain road, past the church. There is a festival going on now. Listen for the music. Go past it and you will see the station on your left.”

  Allison agreed, no clearer on where to find Inspector Balzan than she had been before Julia shared her directions. Nevertheless, she bid the translator goodbye and headed back to the cottage.

  Vaughn called the moment she got inside. Mia had left a note taped to the back door: she, Grace, and Jason were getting her settled into her own cottage down the path. Allison was to meet them there.

  Allison ran a bath while she spoke to Vaughn. The water, crystal clear and free of the chlorine smell and bluish coloration of her city water back home, cascaded into the claw foot tub, enveloped by an inviting head of steam. She stripped her clothes off while she listened to Vaughn explain what he’d found about Pay It Forward.

  “It’s definitely legit,” Vaughn said. “I have to hand it to Sam Norton. If his goal is to die poor, he’s making progress.” Vaughn paused. “They’ve given away millions.”

  “To how many recipients?”

  “You wondering if there are just a few very lucky donors? Hold on.”

  Allison heard some muffled one-sided conversation that was likely Vaughn talking with his brother Jamie. Jamie used a prompter to write words on a screen. Although he had a computer program that lent him a voice, it sounded robotic; he preferred the written word.

  A moment later, Vaughn was back on the line. “Jamie found an interview in which the foundation’s spokesperson said they’ve donated to more than a thousand people. Some grants were small, just a few thousand dollars, and some were as large as a million. The interview was a year ago.”

  “Any information about the type of grants?”

  “It really varies. College tuition, healthcare, new home, a small business. The foundation has backed some pretty wacky small business ideas.” Vaughn stopped and again Allison could hear him speaking to Jamie. “One article that caught Jamie’s eye was about a little girl with a terminal disease. Her parents wanted to grant her dying wish.”

  “Which was?”

  “A summer in Disney World.”

  “An entire summer?”

  “Yep. The foundation rented a condo in Orlando and got each family member a season pass to every park. She needed special medical care, and the foundation paid for that as well. Get this: they even replaced the father’s salary for the months he took leave, as well as his COBRA costs.”

  “Sheesh.”

  “I know. Sadly, the little girl passed away that September.”

  Both Allison and Vaughn were quiet for a moment, letting that sink in. Allison knelt by the tub, twirling her fingers in the warm water and contemplating the unfairness of life.

  She said, “So it’s legit, and it does some good things.”

  “Yes, it’s legit. But its critics argue that the foundation is wasteful. That if it used its money more efficiently, it could help more people.”

  “Does the foundation have a lot of critics?”

  “A surprising number. It’s hard to argue with a charity that makes people’s wishes come true. Can’t please everyone. His detractors are quite outspoken. Only Sam doesn’t seem bothered by them at all.”

  “Of course not.” Allison placed the phone on speaker and poured bath salt into the tub. She lowered her aching body into the warm water and said, “He gets to play Santa Claus.”

  “Santa Claus?” Vaughn said. “Or God?”

  Later that day, Elle sent Karina down to Mia’s cottage to invite Allison and her family to the castle for dinner. Allison declined, preferring instead to eat a quiet meal in her cottage. When Karina suggested that Allison would be disappointing her host, Allison agreed to come—for a little while.

  Now, after dressing once again in more formal clothes, she regretted her decision. But she knew Mia was anxious to see the interior of the historic castle, and to lay eyes on a former music idol—Sam Norton. As they entered the grand ballroom where Elle had ordered dinner be served, Allison watched Mia’s reaction, experiencing the castle as though for the first time through her mentor’s eyes.

  Only before Mia could say a word, Elle was by her side, gushing over Grace and fawning over Mia. Her manner, laid back on a good day and nearly comatose on a bad day, seemed downright manic.

  “Mia! I’ve heard so much about you. Please, come this way. I have a special seat for you right next to the charming Jeremy Kahn. You do know who Jeremy Kahn is, don’t you? I’m afraid his wife couldn’t be here tonight, but I’m sure you’ll find Jeremy to be a top-notch conversationalist.” Elle glanced over her shoulder, fixating on Jeremy, who was listening to Mazy, boredom etched on his face.

  Elle lowered her voice. “Douglas is coming too. I told him not to, with Jeremy here and all, but he insisted. You’ll help me keep the peace, won’t you, Allison?”

  Allison took Elle by the arm and led her into a corner, near the archway that opened up into a foyer. Mia seemed to take that as her cue and she took Grace deeper into the ballroom, near a table of appetizers that had been set out beneath an ornate chandelier. Jason lingered near Allison, his eyes on Jeremy Kahn.

  “Are you okay?” Allison hissed.

  “Yes, of course. Why?” Elle teetered, then stumbled against a wall.

  “Because you don’t seem yourself.” Allison peered into Elle’s eyes. “Did you take something?”

  Elle had the decency to look ashamed. “Hilda gave me something. To calm my nerves.”

  “A tranquilizer? Give me your wrist.” Allison took Elle’s arm and felt her pulse, which was racing. “Where is Hilda? I think you may need to lay down.”

  Elle’s eyes widened in alarm. “No. Don’t make me go upstairs. I’m fine. Really. See?” Elle stepped away from the wall. She twirled around, letting her red swing dress billow around her narrow hips. “Perfectly fine.”

  “Where is Hilda?”

  “With my dad.”

  “I’d like to talk with her.”

  Elle glanced toward the arched entryway. Douglas was just walking into the room and both women watched as he strolled coolly past Jeremy Kahn.

  “Bastard,” Elle muttered. To Allison, she said, “I can’t take you upstairs now that he’s here. Why don’t you go alone? Sam’s rooms are down the hall from mine. Hilda is there with him.” She smiled, and Allison saw another flash of mania. “Go, go. Or you’ll miss dinner. Tonight, we feast.”

  Allison watched her host fumble her way across the vast room on tangerine stilettos. She walked straight toward Douglas, who, for his part, seemed relieved to see her.

  Before Allison could leave, Jason was by her side.

  “I guess you heard everything?” When Jason nodded, Allison said, “M
ia doesn’t know any of these people. Why don’t you go hang out with your mother, and I’ll find Hilda.”

  “I’d rather go with you. My mom can handle herself.”

  Allison’s gaze darted to Mia, who was standing in a corner next to Grace. Each held a small plate of crudités.

  “I don’t know. She looks a little lost. Besides, it will be less conspicuous if you remain.”

  Jason nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Don’t be long or I’ll come looking for you.”

  By now, Allison knew her way around parts of the castle. Her heels clicked on marble floors as she walked alone through the long corridor and up the wide staircase. At the top of the second floor, she turned right, toward the south wing of the main building, where Elle and Sam had their apartments. Night was closing in, and the interior lights, hung high overhead, seemed unable to make up for lost daylight. Allison walked briskly, avoiding the shadows.

  She counted doors until she arrived at what she believed to be Sam’s rooms. She knocked. When no one answered, she walked to the next door and lingered there for a moment, listening. No sounds from within. She knocked anyway. Again, all was quiet. She turned the handle. Locked.

  Allison was certain she had the right rooms. Elle had said they were near her own, and no one else stayed in the south wing.

  She was about to try the other set of doors again when the one in front of her slammed open. Hilda stood before her. She clutched a book to her breast.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Is everything okay?”

  Allison looked past her into the room. She could see a gold brocade couch, a writing desk, and not much else. “I wanted to speak with you about what you gave Elle. For her nerves.”

  “Ah.” Hilda stepped back. “Sam is sleeping,” she said in her accented English. “Finally.”

  “I don’t want to wake him.”

  Hilda didn’t respond, but her body language—rigid shoulders, hands still clutching that book across her chest—told Allison she no more wanted company than she wanted a needle inserted in her eye.

  “Elle said you gave her a sedative, but she seemed rather hyperactive downstairs. Running about, unsteady on her feet, eyes darting.” When Hilda continued standing there, Allison said, “What did you give her?”