by A. L. Tyler
“We don’t know,” Roger replied.
Cal’s eyes turned sharply to Nick and me. “You don’t know? I can’t imagine there are many suspects.”
“Amos is here,” Rogers replied. “Some of Axel’s former business associates, Mrs. Molly Wolffkyn and her daughter Skyla, are also visiting.”
“And Shaina,” Nick added. “The maid.”
Rogers sat a little straighter, smoothing his shirt. “As I’ve said, Shaina was with me in the dining room. She isn’t a suspect.”
“Everyone is a suspect.” Nick didn’t blink. “As far as the rest of you are concerned, Jette and I are suspects. We were together, and both of us know it, but we can’t prove it to anyone else.”
“You’re saying I’m a suspect as well?” Rogers stared Nick down.
Nick didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Cal’s glass was empty. He reached for the bottle, but Rogers got there faster. He poured Cal another glass.
“Enough of the fighting,” Cal said. “I understand the Bleak is going to be involved here, but please let us grieve with whatever dignity we can. As the one person here who most certainly could not have killed my brother, I’d like some privacy. Could someone please show me to my room?”
“Of course.” Rogers rose, leading the way to the door.
Cal set his drink on an end table and followed him. “Mr. Rogers, I would also appreciate it if you would let my nephew know of my arrival. We aren’t close, but he may want to see me.”
Nick and I stayed on the loveseat. When the door closed, I picked up my glass again to give my hands something to do.
“Cal backed up Amos’ story,” I said miserably. “He was here to announce the birth of his child. I don’t think he would have killed his father on the same visit.”
“So we’ve got Cal vouching for Amos,” Nick said. “And Rogers and Shaina vouching for each other. And Molly and Skyla, too. It looks like everyone has an alibi. No crime could have been committed here.”
I sighed heavily. “I was reporting. I didn’t draw that conclusion.”
“I know.” Nick sat quietly, his eyes went distant, and I knew he was thinking it over again.
I went to the photo album Cal had left sitting on the chair. I stared at a picture of two little boys on the beach, building a sand castle while their parents sat behind them in folding chairs. The mother held a baby in her arms.
I furrowed my brow. “Is there another Hayden sibling?”
Nick’s posture didn’t change as he flicked his eyes to the album. “They had a sister, Cordelia. She died young. Axel keeps—kept—a small memorial to her near his personal rooms.”
I trailed my hand over the picture of the happy family, thinking of the reunion that Amos had planned and the petty disputes that had broken everything to pieces. All of the people in this family were estranged now, and I didn’t know if anything could ever bring them together again.
“How do you feel about Skyla?”
I looked up at Nick. “She was sleeping when it happened. Or with her mother, if you believe her.”
“Do you?”
“No.” The story Skyla had concocted was to protect her mother. The fact that the women were circling the wagons didn’t speak well to anything they might be hiding, though, and two wagons were hardly enough for a circle.
“You still don’t believe it was Molly?” Nick asked skeptically.
I shrugged. “She didn’t act guilty, but no one is.”
Nick’s eyes moved to a corner. “I agree. This isn’t looking good for Skyla.”
Chapter 11
The rain returned with a vengeance. At the request of Rogers, Nick agreed to forestall the inquisitions to allow the family to grieve. It wasn’t like anyone was going anywhere, and we didn’t have any other leads.
I took a bath, and as was his habit from our pre-courtship days, Nick sat outside the door and talked to me. He followed me to the kitchen to get lunch, and then back to the same room where we’d been with Rogers and Cal earlier. With everyone holed up in fear of a murderer, the mansion was a quiet place.
The picture of the Hayden family in their golden days haunted me. I pulled several albums down, looking at page after page of happy birthdays, holidays, vacations, and everyday moments. Cal and Axel were never apart in their early years.
Axel had other albums, too. Pictures of his grand adventures over the years, some old keepsakes, and whole books of historical images that seemed to detail Bleak criminal cases. It felt like I was back in the archives of Fallvale’s evidence room.
My phone rang, and Nick glanced over at me.
I answered it. “Hey.”
“Where are my pool pics?”
I set the phone on the table and hit the speaker button. “Mixed company. Someone murdered the birthday boy, and swimsuits don’t fit the uniform code.”
“That is the lamest lie I have ever heard.”
I looked up from the album in front of me. “And the grand irony here is that it’s true. I was literally saved from providing your vampire porn by a dead guy.”
She paused, and then lowered her voice. “Is Nick there?”
“I’m here,” Nick supplied from where he was lying on a couch. “It’s under control. We’re on lockdown.”
“With a murderer?”
“Marigold Jones, you know as well as I do that most murders are personal. No one is after us.”
“People are after Jette.”
“Different people,” Nick said patiently. “Either way, I’m always with her, so you don’t need to worry.”
Another pause. “You’re staying in the same room, then.”
Nick sat up, looking at me over the back of the couch.
“I told you,” I said in a sing-song voice. “She has her ways...”
“Who’s the dead guy?” Marge asked.
I looked at Nick. I wasn’t technically sure what we could share during an ongoing investigation. I also wasn’t sure if the Bleak would give a rat’s ass about Marge. She was human, and as transgressions went, her knowledge of this case paled in comparison to her general knowledge of the goings-on in the magic community.
“Axel Hayden,” Nick said, seeming glad for the distraction. “Eighty years old, white male. He was found by his mistress incapacitated and being torn apart by his own guard dogs.”
“Werewolves,” I corrected.
“No shit,” Marge said. “The mistress totally did it.”
Nick cocked his head and raised his eyebrows at me. “I told you so.”
“Jette doesn’t think it’s the mistress? Come on. It’s always the mistress. Unless it’s the wife. Is there a wife?”
“Wife is deceased,” I said.
“See? The mistress probably killed her, too.”
I shook my head at Nick, lowering my voice. “And you accuse me of slut-shaming.”
Nick gave me the same slightly dirty look he had after pulling his fingers through my hair in the boathouse.
“Who’s a slut?”
“I am,” Nick said.
“Right on,” Marge said. “Have you asked the werewolves what happened?”
I cocked my head to the side, hoping inspiration would strike as to how we could do that, but it was a mental dead end. “This isn’t Hollywood. They aren’t that kind of werewolf.”
I picked up my phone and went to the window, where one particularly burly guy had been watching me on and off for the last thirty minutes. I knocked hard to get his attention before I flipped Marge the bird and snapped a selfie next to his gaping, tooth-filled jaws.
I heard the picture chime its arrival over the open line.
“If this is what witches do for fun, I’m never going on vacation with you. Fuck that noise. Who else is there?”
“The lawyer, the maid, the mistress and her daughter, and the brother and son of the deceased,” Nick replied.
“And you’re not interrogating people... why?”
“How do you know I’m not interrogating people?”
“Because you’re shooting the shit with me, Warren. What gives?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Because the lawyer asked him not to until tomorrow.”
“The lawyer did it.”
“The lawyer has a pretty convincing alibi,” Nick said. “He was getting laid.”
Marge sounded surprised. “And his partner confirmed that?”
“Hell, no. His partner is the maid. It’s not exactly a proper relationship.”
I stared at Nick, narrowing my eyes. “What Nick means is that the lawyer doesn’t have a great alibi, but they’re old friends, so he trusts him.”
“And the maid isn’t exactly forthcoming about what she was up to? Nah, I’m with Nick. The lawyer was getting laid. You said the mistress’s daughter is there? Who the hell brings their kid on a booty call? Secret love child?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Nick was faster.
“We’re going to have to cut this short, Marge.”
In a flash and with a light breeze the call was over. Nick stood by the closed door to the hall. He opened it quickly, and Molly Wolffkyn wobbled in surprise on the other side.
Her hand was raised to knock. She jumped at the sight of Nick and clutched her fist to her chest.
“Mrs. Wolffkyn.”
“Mr. Warren,” she replied.
I stood up. “How long has she been there?”
Molly’s eyes wandered the hall before she stepped in and shut the door. She smiled hesitantly. “Long enough to know that you know.”
“We know?” Nick circled behind her, steering her to a chair in a corner.
He’d interrogated more people than I had probably met in my life. I stood back and let him work.
“About Skyla,” Molly said quietly. She swallowed, looking terrified as she sat down. “No one can know.”
“Does Skyla know?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?” Nick grabbed a nearby chair and positioned it directly in front of her. “Seems like you’re here a lot, and Skyla seems like an intelligent young woman.”
“She is,” Molly said with misty eyes. “But she only comes once or twice a year. The rest of the time, I tell her I’m going to a spa or visiting family. Taking a vacation in Malibu, because she hates the heat. Axel and I loved each other, but we knew we could never be together in the open.”
“I’m sure Sergio is a smart man,” Nick said. “He can do the math. How did you manage to conceal Skyla’s parentage from him?”
“I didn’t know, at first,” Molly said. “She was about five when we had to start paying bribes to keep her away from the Bleak. They managed to identify her through some special testing that her private school did without our knowledge. She has that condition. She’s a reverse caster. We had to pay off the school to say they’d made an error and forge her results because the Bleak likes to take those children for their own and train them. I was just as happy assuming it was a strange coincidence, but Axel had to know. He did a DNA test.” She licked her lips and pursed them, looking down at her lap. “Skyla’s in Axel’s will. I’m sure of it.”
Nick kept his tone even. “Confessing to motive hardly clears your name. Nor does it clear your daughter’s.”
“I’m telling you because I knew you would find out,” Molly said. “Axel left specific instructions that his will not be disclosed until all Bleak investigations into his death were finalized. Rogers told me. I knew you would find out regardless, and we would be suspects, and you would tell her. You can’t tell her. Skyla can never know, and Rogers was left with specific instructions to help her. If Sergio ever found out—” Her voice caught in her throat. “Sergio can’t know. And Skyla can’t know. For all of his flaws, she’s grown up proud of her father. All I am asking is that you don’t tell her.”
Nick leaned back in his chair. “Mrs.Wolffkyn, did you kill Axel?”
“No,” she said quietly.
Nick took a slow breath. “Did Skyla kill Axel?”
“No. She wouldn’t have. She admires her father, but there’s none of that in her. She isn’t a killer.”
“Do you know where Skyla was during the time Axel was killed?”
Molly heaved a sigh. She looked at the ground, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “No. I don’t know, but someone here must. She’s never alone here unless she’s in her room, and she took me back there that night. Her bed was undisturbed. She wasn’t sleeping before she came to find me, and that means someone in this house can give her an alibi. She won’t tell me. She’s always been stubborn. I am begging you to question everyone. Someone here can clear my daughter’s name.”
“YOU’RE RIGHT,” NICK said. “I don’t think she did it. You don’t go out of your way to reveal motive if you’ve just killed someone.”
He stalked down the hall like a tiger strolling the forest. I followed in his wake. Molly wanted us to clear Skyla’s name.
It only made sense that we would start with Skyla.
Nick stopped in front of her door, raising his hand before stopping to check his demeanor. He knocked lightly.
Skyla cracked the door just enough to reveal one azure blue eye. “Yes?”
“Ms. Wolffkyn, we have some questions about—”
“I was with my mother.” She went to shut the door.
Nick braced it with his foot. The azure eye squinted in defiance.
“I’ve just come from questioning your mother,” Nick said calmly. “It’s funny that you say you were with her. She says she wasn’t with you.”
The door flew open. “If you hurt my mother—”
I raised a hand, barely dismantling the ringing curse she’d prepared to throw at him. Nick displayed both of his palms in submission, glancing at me for confirmation that it was safe.
“Skyla, we’re not here to pin this on your mother. I don’t want to pin this on someone. It’s not what I do. And if you can’t believe that, believe this: Axel Hayden was my friend. It’s why he invited me. I need to know the truth so that I can get to the bottom of this. I want to know who murdered my friend.”
Skyla looked at me, and then at Nick. She stomped one foot before nodding back toward her room. We followed her in.
Nick shut the door as I took a seat by Skyla in two chairs by the windows.
“I wasn’t with my mother,” she admitted, rubbing her lower lip with her thumb as she stared out the window into the pouring rain.
“You weren’t sleeping,” Nick offered. “Your mother seemed sure of that.”
She turned back toward him, dropping her hand to her lap. “I was with Amos, okay?”
I tried not to react, but the feeling in my stomach made my eyebrows nearly shoot off my face as they raised. “You were with Amos, or you were with Amos?”
Chapter 12
Skyla glared at me.
“Skyla, there’s something you have to know—”
Nick took four quick steps to put a halting hand on my shoulder. “What were you doing with Amos?”
“Talking,” Skyla shrugged, straightening her blue blouse and smoothing her black slacks. Her dark hair was pulled up into a sleek bun. “He’s my best friend.”
“Talking?” I said. I felt light-headed. “You’re sure that’s all you were doing?”
Skyla’s lips twisted into a snarl. She leaned toward me. “Ms. Driftwood, not all of us are screwing our colleagues. Amos and I grew up together. My mom was always disappointed that I wasn’t as ladylike as she wanted. Axel was always disappointed that Amos took to the arts instead of business. While they were off sleeping together—which I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, or you’re the worst Bleak agents ever—we bonded over our mutual rejection. We tell each other everything. He texted me last night to sneak over to his room. My mom has never liked our friendship because Axel doesn’t like Amos, so I don’t tell her things.”
Her insult cut me deeper than I thought it would, especially considering that I very specifically wasn’t screwing my colleagues. I leaned b
ack in my chair.
“What did he tell you?” Nick asked.
Skyla drew in a breath and splayed her palms. “That he’s having a baby with Georgina. He wanted to tell me in person. They’re naming it Natalie Skyla if it’s a girl. Georgina picked the boy name—Wendel Timber or something weird. Let’s hope it’s a girl. Don’t tell Georgie I said that.”
“And Amos will confirm that story?” The weight lifted off my shoulders. For a moment, I was afraid that Molly and Axel’s secret—intended to protect their daughter—had led to much more damaging things.
Skyla reached for her cell phone, charging on the table behind her. “Sure. You can call him if you want. Or Georgie. She was on the phone last night while I was there. I was on my way back to my room when I heard my mom freaking out, and that’s when I came to investigate.”
Nick nodded. “That’s fine. We’ll be talking to Amos later. You realize that by telling us this, you’re putting your mother in a precarious situation.”
Skyla stared right back at him. Her well-lined eyes made her gaze all the sharper, but I saw her swallow. “My mother didn’t do this, Mr. Warren. I know my mother. I know that she loved her trips to Malibu as much as I enjoyed mine to visit with Amos. As dysfunctional as this arrangement might seem from the outside, it was working for us. Everyone here was happy as long as we didn’t have to be happy together. It’s been that way ever since Amos’ mom died. My mother had no reason to kill Axel Hayden.”
“Thank you for your time.” Nick walked toward the door. “Agent Driftwood, stay here with Ms. Wolffkyn while I confirm her story.”
He shut the door behind him. Skyla raised an eyebrow at me.
I searched for anything to fill the awkward silence. “You and your mother run a business?”
Impossible as it seemed, the eyebrow inched higher.
“What business do you run?”
“I don’t run a business. I run a front, Ms. Driftwood, because it is damn near impossible to make money selling specialty paper. I manage, but it’s not the business I would have chosen. It’s the business my mother chose, because if we were actually successful, we wouldn’t have much of an excuse to continue a relationship with our patron, would we?”