by Wendy Tyson
Allison, on the other hand, did not fare so well. She was ordered again to remain.
After hours of searching and questioning the castle guests, Balzan left two men at the castle, ostensibly for the safety of the inhabitants, but also to ensure that no one left. Vaughn, also cleared, volunteered to stay with Allison. She was grateful for his company.
For her part, Elle seemed surprisingly calm.
“I have the records you asked for,” she told Allison in the privacy of Allison’s cottage. “The applicants for the foundation who were denied grants. They’re in my rooms.”
“Did you look through them?”
“Not yet. I’ve been kind of busy.”
Of course. “I’m sorry about your brother,” Allison said. “Did your father take it hard?”
“We haven’t told him yet.” Elle walked over to the small kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator. She pulled out a carafe of white wine. “Mind?”
“It’s yours.”
“I wish you’d stop saying that. It makes me feel like you don’t want to be here.”
Allison didn’t respond. She didn’t want to be there, but she wasn’t about to say that to Elle. Instead she pulled a glass out of the cabinet and handed it to Elle.
Elle poured a glass, then asked Vaughn and Allison if they’d like some. When they both declined, she sat on the couch, pulling her long legs under her.
“Today’s not been a great day. When I went to see my dad, he seemed very disoriented and agitated. Hilda was there. She was medicating him. Which reminds me.” Elle took her phone out of her pocket. She fooled with it for a moment, and then handed the device to Allison. “The medicines he’s on.”
Allison glanced at the prescriptions. The labels were in Italian, but she thought she recognized a few of the brand names.
“Do you see something concerning?”
“Not off the top, but I’m not a doctor. Why don’t you send them to me and we can research them.”
Elle nodded. She took a gulp of wine, then another. Her shaking hands betrayed the composed demeanor she seemed intent on displaying. “Hilda seemed out of sorts too. I heard her talking to my dad through the door. When I walked in, she clammed up. Seemed upset.”
“Someone died,” Vaughn said. “Maybe she’s scared.”
“I guess.”
Allison said, “But it was more than that?”
Elle traced the circle at the base of her wine glass. “No, probably not.” She shrugged. “We’re all feeling paranoid. Honestly? You’re the only two I trust right now. You and my father, of course.”
“I can understand why you feel that way.” Allison reached a hand out to her client. Elle looked downright conservative today in a pair of black dress pants and a silk teal wrap blouse. Her hair had been pulled into a becoming up do. She tugged at the hem of her blouse, fingers nervously worrying the silk material.
Elle caught Allison looking at her hair. “Karina. She came to check on me today. Did my hair.”
“It looks nice.”
“When can we see the reports?” Vaughn asked. He’d been reviewing some information about the foundation on his computer, and his focus was clearly on business—not hair.
“Whenever you want.” Elle glanced at Allison. “I’ve almost finished my personal plan. It’s a good distraction right now. Do you and Vaughn want to come up to the castle for dinner? We can find a quiet spot and look through the reports. There are pages and pages of names.”
Vaughn said, “That would be good, but I don’t want to wait. How about if we meet you in an hour? Jamie has some stuff to send me. I’ll go through that first.”
“Sounds good.” Elle stood to go. “I guess I need to tell my dad about Michael.”
Allison asked, “Are you sure Hilda didn’t tell him already? Maybe that’s why he was so agitated.”
“She says she didn’t say a word.”
Vaughn’s forehead creased. “Did the police question Hilda?”
“Yes. And Karina and even Dominic.”
“Will they be searching the entire castle?” Vaughn said.
“Yes. It’s not a big force. They’re still searching the woods for Michael’s body. When they’re finished, they will turn to the castle.” A flash of lightning lit up the sky. In an instant, rain began pelting the roof and tapping against the windows. “Although I suppose the rain means they’re finished for now.” She hugged herself. “I’m so tired of the rain. I’m glad Balzan is keeping men here.”
Allison was sure this type of crime was rare for the area. The fact that the murders had not been blared all over the news was shocking. She said as much.
“Not as shocking as you might think,” Elle said. “When guests stay, Daddy makes them sign a confidentiality agreement like the one you signed. What happens at the castle, stays at the castle, if you know what I mean.”
Vaughn nodded. “Plus, let’s face it, everyone here is a suspect. Why would they want to mar their own reputations with that by leaking to the press? And we’re pretty remote. Areas used to tourism dollars won’t be all that anxious to highlight things like murder.”
“I’m sure Mazy will incorporate it into one of her books,” Elle said. “When she can function again.”
“How is she?” Allison asked.
“Resting under Hilda’s care.”
“Hilda’s a busy woman.”
Elle gave a half-hearted “I guess.”
When she left, Vaughn said, “Think we should pay more attention to Hilda?”
“I do, and I’ll tell you why. Balzan’s officers found the head and hands. I’m no expert, but I’m guessing whoever did this buried these parts separately because they could be used to identify Michael.”
“Makes sense.”
“It’s not easy to sever a neck or a wrist. It takes a solid understanding of human anatomy—or some very sharp tools and physical strength.”
Vaughn said, “And who would know better than a medical practitioner.”
“Right.” Allison thought about the hand she’d seen, the lengths someone had gone to in order to hide Michael’s body. “Mazy said the grave was shallow. A deep grave would have been safer. Maybe the person lacked the strength.”
“Although whoever did it would have had the strength to saw through a body part.”
“True, but the trees in these woods are dense, so digging through rocks and roots could be nearly impossible unless you knew exactly where to dig—and were used to that kind of physical labor. Dominic would know where to dig, perhaps. But anyone else? Maybe not. Or maybe they didn’t think hiding the body was that important in such deep woods.” Allison closed her eyes. “I keep going back to the severed hand. The precision it would take to saw that off so cleanly.”
“Hilda, huh?” Vaughn snapped his laptop shut. “I’ll meet you in my rooms at the castle in forty-five?”
“Sure. What did Jamie send you?”
“I forwarded him some photos I took last night. Of Hilda and Karina. I wanted him to run them through his new facial recognition software. See if he gets any hits. He also got his hands on the foundation’s records. I want to see if anything jumps out.”
“We have a second foundation board member who is dead.”
“We do, indeed.” Vaughn frowned. “And Shirin.”
“I keep going back to our earlier hypothesis. What if whoever killed Shirin was aiming for someone else?”
“You mean you don’t think it was Douglas?”
Allison stood, stretched her arms over her head. Did she think someone other than Douglas was involved? “Yes. Now that Michael is gone, I’m thinking this has to do with money, not lust or jealousy. Whoever is killing people at the castle is doing so for an age-old reason: greed.”
“Or another age-old reason: revenge.”
Neither Vaughn nor
Allison had heard the back door open. They looked up to see Jeremy Kahn standing in the doorway. His eyes looked haggard. Pain radiated off him like heat from a fire.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Do you mind if I come in?”
When Allison didn’t answer, the director stepped inside. “Elle said I could find you here, Allison. I was hoping we could talk.” He glanced at Vaughn. “Alone.”
“Vaughn is my business manager and friend. Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of him.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Jeremy said, “Very well.” He sat on a stool by the counter, pulled a silver flask from his cargo pants, and took a swig. He was a thin man, with grizzled features and elegant hands. He gestured with those hands when he spoke. “I think we’re all in danger.”
“All of us?”
“Everyone involved with the foundation.”
“Because of Michael and Damien’s deaths?” Vaughn asked.
“Yes. Clearly someone is angry with us. Someone wants revenge.”
“I’m not sure it’s so clear,” Allison said. “What about Shirin?”
“Either she was a mistake, or her connection to Damien and Douglas was enough to make her a target.”
Allison said, “What if this is a family issue? To play devil’s advocate, Jeremy, Damien was Elle’s husband, Shirin was his cousin, and Michael was Elle’s half-brother.”
“Coincidence. Sort of.” Jeremy rubbed his hands on his thighs before grabbing the flask and taking another long drink. “I have reason to believe this is about us, the foundation, not Elle or her family. Well, not exactly.”
“And what reason is that?” Vaughn’s voice sounded stern. Allison was sure he was wondering if Jeremy was trying to shift any suspicion away from himself. Elle was right: they were all feeling paranoid.
If Jeremy noticed Vaughn’s tone, he chose to ignore it. “About three years ago, we received a note. It came in the mail to the LA office. It had been typed in English, and it said horrible things about the foundation. That we played with people’s lives, represented the worst of the wealthy, and that we were self-serving and narcissistic.”
“Those are big insults considering what you guys do.” Vaughn tapped a finger against the top of his laptop. “You figured it was someone who was refused a grant?”
“We assumed so at the time. The letter wasn’t signed. It had no return address. All we knew is that it had been mailed from Italy.”
Vaughn and Allison looked at one another.
“Here?” Allison asked. “From Bidero?”
“Near here.”
“Okay,” Vaughn said. “And then what?”
“And then nothing. We let it go, figuring it was some disgruntled applicant, as you said. Until six months ago.”
“What happened six months ago?” Allison tensed.
“Another letter. This time it went right to Sam. Same claims.”
“Six months ago,” Vaughn said. “Around the time Damien died.”
Outside, thunder boomed. Lightning flashed nearby, following quickly. Allison remembered her mother’s trick—count the seconds between lightning and thunder to know how far away the storm was. She counted three. As though to back up her mother, the lights in the cottage flickered off, then came back on again.
Jeremy glanced up, watching the flickering chandelier. “We should get flashlights together. They’re calling for some big storms the next few days.”
“Perfect,” Allison mumbled.
“The letter?” Vaughn said.
Jeremy sighed. “We—I—assumed Damien’s death was an accident, as the police report indicated. I had no idea about the second letter. Didn’t know until today.”
“What did it say?” Allison asked quietly. She was afraid she knew.
“It said ‘one down, three to go.’”
A shiver twisted up Allison’s spine. “Anything else?”
“The same stuff: how awful we are to play with people’s lives, etcetera.”
“So why didn’t Sam come forward with the letter?” Vaughn asked.
“I don’t think he ever received it.”
Allison looked at him, a question reflected in her eyes.
“The letter was intercepted and hidden. I found it today.”
“Where?” Allison’s heart was pounding.
“In Elle’s room. I was looking for Sam, and there it was amongst her things.”
Allison was stunned into silence.
“You think Elle knew and didn’t say anything? Why would she do that?”
Jeremy stood. He took another swig from his flask, then turned the container upside down and shook it. “Damn.” He swung around, looking directly at Allison.
“I think she’s in on it. The letter was delivered here, to the castle. She must have intercepted it, perhaps figured out who the murderer is. She wanted in on it. She gets nothing if the foundation is successful. Nothing at all. If it fails…the money goes to her. She’d be a very rich woman.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Allison asked. Again, she was afraid she knew his answer. “You should be telling Balzan.”
“You were—are—her ticket. You aren’t just an image consultant. You’re a detective, albeit an amateur one. I read about you, Allison. I know about the young girl you helped. And that older woman—the Italian.” Jeremy cocked his head, his eyes probing. “You’re also the best kind of alibi. If she has you snowed, she can snow everyone. And if you find the real killer after damage is done, she wins. The charter says the money has to be given away in Sam’s lifetime. He wants to see it go. Otherwise, it’s returned to his estate. She can sit back and watch the drama unfold, taking the spoils at the end.”
Allison shook her head. “I’m sure she could just have asked to be part of the foundation and Sam would have allowed her.”
“Elle Rose doesn’t want control of the foundation. That would be real work. She wants the money, pure and simple.”
Allison headed into the kitchen for a glass of that wine. She suddenly felt shaky, and her head was pounding. Could this be true? Could Elle be an accomplice to murder? She’d have to be a hell of an actress. But hadn’t she pulled off a metamorphosis in just a few short days? And didn’t she once act for a living? Once upon a time, anyway.
“You should talk to Balzan,” Allison said. “Tell him what you told me.”
“We are in danger. I could be next. Sam could be next.”
“What do you expect us to do about that, Mr. Kahn?” Vaughn asked.
Jeremy’s tone cut through the next round of thunder like a knife through snow. “Find out who’s doing this. That’s what I want you to do.”
Jeremy left and Allison locked the doors behind him. She braced herself against the counter. “Holy cow.”
“What do you make of that?”
“I don’t know what to think.” Allison rubbed her temples. “That was a lot to take in.”
“Do you believe him?” Vaughn looked skeptical.
“I believe that he means it. He seemed genuinely scared. I think the only thing keeping him upright is whatever was in that flask.”
Thunder roared and the lights flickered again.
“We really do need flashlights.”
“There are candles and matches under the sink.” Allison went in search of them. She pulled out three long white candles and placed them on the counter next to her computer. “Some of this makes sense. Elle has been pushing me about Damien. And she has not been particularly focused on change, at least not consistently.” Allison paused. “On the other hand, if Jeremy got into Elle’s rooms today, it’s possible others did as well. The police have been in and out of this place. Doors could be left unlocked.”
Vaughn nodded. His handsome face looked troubled. “So what are you going to do?”
Allison glanced at her watch. “We’re meeting with Elle soon, right?”
“Yep. Fifteen minutes.”
“Let’s go then. Someone’s got some explaining to do.”
THIRTY-ONE
“I have absolutely no idea what Jeremy is talking about.” Elle fell onto a chair in her apartment with a thud. “He’s bonkers—or lying. Look around. Please. I’ve never seen such a note.” She smacked her head lightly with one hand. “Oh my god, if he’s right, then someone here knew early on that this was murder. Who would take that note? Who would plant it here?”
Vaughn was standing near the locked door, and he moved across the room, staring at Elle’s desk. “If we believe that there was a note, and if we believe that you didn’t take it, then that leaves two options that make sense.”
“One, the killer placed the note there to scare you—or implicate you,” Allison said.
“Or two, we have a killer, and we have someone who has known Damien was murdered and did nothing about it.”
Vaughn picked through some papers, put them down. “Who has that kind of access to Sam?”
“Just about everyone. Especially the employees: Dominic, of course. Karina. And Hilda.” Elle’s eyes widened. She stood. “Speaking of Hilda, the lab got back to me with the drug results. They don’t make sense.” Elle grabbed her phone off a table. “Promise me you’ll hear me out, okay? I haven’t done drugs. I swear.”
Allison frowned. She accepted the phone and read the drug screening analysis. “They found amphetamines? You’ve been taking speed?”
“No, I haven’t. I swear to you. I swear on everything I know and love.” She took the phone back and scrolled through until she reached another page. “I did some research. Speed is detectable in urine for three to five days, that’s it. That means whoever did this gave me the drug within three to five days before Friday, when I went for the screening.”
Allison understood what she was getting at. “The Benadryl.” When Vaughn looked confused, Allison said, “Hilda gave Elle a drug on Wednesday. She told Elle it was a sedative, something to calm her nerves. When I questioned Hilda later, she told me it was only Benadryl.”
