by Sonia Parin
“Jack’s impressed with our progress.”
“Eve and I want to know if anyone’s experiencing money problems. We’re widening our net and including as many people as we can in our list of suspects. Hang around us long enough, Jack, and we might include you too.”
“And how would you try to pin the murder on me?”
Jill looked up at the ceiling. “You tried to get revenge on behalf of Eve to make up for the years she suffered under Charlotte’s reign of tyranny.”
“Isn’t she smart?” Eve asked. “Help yourself to some toast before they get cold, Jill.”
“Did you tell him about the conversation we overheard at Shelby’s Table?” Jill leaned forward and mimicked Dante’s voice. “It can’t happen again.”
“We’ve been trying to make sense of what that might be but the problem with catching snippets of conversation is that we’re too biased to fill in the gaps. Anything and everything we hear sounds suspicious.”
Jack’s gaze bounced between Eve and Jill. “It sounds innocent enough to me. They were referring to the death of someone they knew. That means there’s been a breach in security.”
“We think Jon was a loan shark and one of them got in too deep. Jack, you need to start looking at their finances.”
“It sounds like my workload just increased.”
Jill grinned. “Any time you get stuck, you know where to come for answers.”
Eve set down her mug of coffee. “Is that why you came here so early? Are you stuck or are you keeping tabs on me?”
Jill topped up her coffee. “My money is on him keeping tabs on you. I haven’t heard him warning you to keep your nose clean.”
“Now I’m worried.” Eve turned to Jack. “I hope you’re not using me as bait to lure the killer out into the open.”
He brushed his hand across her arm. “Anything else I should know about?”
A knock on the front door had them all looking at each other.
“Who could it be this early in the morning?” Eve asked as she went to answer the door. When she returned, she set an envelope down on the table. “You’ll never believe this.”
Jill snatched the envelope and drew out a thick velum page. “It’s an invitation to lunch at the Stevenson place. Today.”
“I’m suddenly feeling faint,” Eve said.
“You have to go, Eve. This is your big chance. How else are we going to know what they plan on doing with you?”
“Are you suggesting they know I’ve been asking questions and are now going to try to do away with me?”
Jill turned to Jack. “We think there’s a group conspiracy. It’s like a secret club.” Jill clicked her fingers. “Eve should wear a wire. Or at least have her cell phone on speakerphone so we can listen in on her conversations.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Eve mused.
“Eve.”
Jack’s warning tone made him sound like a bear with a sore tooth.
“I’ll be careful.”
The invitation had been unexpected enough to make Eve wary if not concerned. Charlotte had planned something and she needed Eve to play whatever role she had scripted for her. If only Eve knew what that could be. She didn’t think too much about it because her focus remained on talking with her and trying to find out how Charlotte felt about her fiancé’s previous relationship with the caterer. Eve would settle for seeing Charlotte’s reaction, but whatever plan Charlotte had set into motion did not include talking.
Charlotte waved to her but kept a discreet distance. If Eve moved in her general direction, she reclaimed her space. It happened a couple of time. Enough to make it clear she had no intention of engaging in conversation with her. Which begged the question...
Why had she invited her?
Eve checked her watch. She’d never been much of a drinker but if she wanted to blend in, she’d have to play by the rules. Smiling at the waiter, she accepted the glass of champagne on offer.
The magic wand had been waved and all the guests had gathered, including the jet setters. A few of them raised their glasses at her. Eve interpreted this as the standard greeting so she returned the greetings with a lifting of her own glass but she refrained from drinking.
“You look lost.”
Allan Albright to the rescue.
“I’m not even going to pretend this is my scene,” Eve said.
“Why is that?”
“Why won’t I pretend or why isn’t this my scene?”
Allan Albright smiled. “Both.”
“I’m not out to impress anyone and my bank account balance lacks several zeros to belong to your set.”
“That’s easily fixed.”
“You have a secret to wealth creation?” Not that she cared. Eve’s only purpose in life had been happiness. Doing what she loved had always been at the top of her list. If she’d followed in her parents’ footsteps, she would have gone into law and pursued a career at international level earning seven figures, but she’d followed her own path and she couldn’t escape the fact she’d always have to work for a living.
“There are always ways. The right people open the right doors.”
“I guess I could always marry money.”
“There’s that too, but...” He sighed.
“Let me guess, money marries money?”
He shrugged. “It’s a fact of life.”
She forgot she’d decided she wouldn’t drink and took a sip. There were only so many wealthy people in their circle to go around... “Doesn’t it get incestuous?”
“If push comes to shove, there’s always new money.”
Is that what Jon O’Brian had been? “As a last resort?” He nodded. “You are a picky lot.”
“Ouch. Are you implying we’re snobs?”
“I’m saying it, not implying it. You didn’t even try to hide your dislike of Jon O’Brian.”
“Like I said, if you’d known him, you would have felt the same way.”
“What made him so... unpalatable?” She cringed at the subtlety of the word. What would Jon O’Brian have said? She imagined a string of expletives pouring out of him.
“His crassness.”
She’d been right.
“Has someone been rude to you?”
Eve swung around. Dante Hildegard came to stand beside her. He held a drink in one hand, and a golf club in the other.
“We haven’t met.”
Allan introduced them.
“Do you play golf?” Dante asked.
Eve looked into his dazzling turquoise eyes. “Never in my life.” And she had no intention of starting now, not even for the sake of spending more time with a good-looking man. He stood a head taller than her and had the sort of sex appeal that guaranteed he’d never spend a night alone.
“Not even for the sake of walking and talking?”
How could she refuse?
“When exactly does the walking part begin?” Eve asked as she settled into the golf buggy.
“I’m told there’s an uninterrupted view of the ocean at the edge of the estate.”
She hoped he didn’t mean the cliff.
Her stomach sunk.
He meant the cliff.
“You’re Charlotte’s friend from way back. Why haven’t we met?”
“We move in different circles.”
“Pity.” He brought the buggy to a stop and hopped out.
She watched him set up his shot and take a swing. “Where’s the fun in hitting balls into the ocean?”
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I want to hit a few balls but not worry about collecting them.”
No thought given to the environment. His blatant negligence set her back teeth into a hard clench.
He gauged the light breeze and then took another shot. “You live on the island year round?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “That would do my head in. It’s cooling down. Perfect time to head down south were it’s warmer.”
“I like the coziness of a fire.”
He went on to tell her about all the places he’d stayed at in the last few months, turning the one-sided conversation into a tour of the world’s finest restaurants.
She saw her opening and went for it. “I suppose there’s no point in craving a life I know I can’t afford.”
“Who says you can’t.”
“My bank statement.” She expected him to deliver a generic platitude about money not being everything. Instead he surprised her.
“Your aunt is a bestselling author and you’re her only heir.”
And how exactly did he know that? Had he asked around or had she been screened? Eve realized she’d been too blasé about her aunt’s safety. “And your point is?”
“Her books will continue to sell long after she’s gone.”
Meaning, Eve would have a steady source of income. Only a few months before someone had used that as an excuse to kill. It wasn’t even something Eve ever thought about...
“You’d want to make sure you’re free to enjoy it.”
Free...
Eve laughed. “Are you trying to tell me something?” Or was he threatening her? And if so, why?
The hardness of his eyes made her take a step back. She was about to take another when it occurred to look over her shoulder. Another step would take her right up to the edge of the cliff...
Chapter Eleven
“Jack. Two visits in a week. You’re in the middle of a murder investigation. You don’t usually have time for me.” Eve frowned. “Hang on. You found something... and shock of horrors, you’re here to share it with me.”
He smiled and for a moment, Eve’s breath caught.
“You didn’t call yesterday so I assume you didn’t discover a new suspect.”
“No.” It had taken her the best part of the night to forget about the disturbing conversation she’d had with Dante Hildegard.
“Is there a but in there somewhere?”
“I had the feeling I was being interviewed.” Or blackmailed.
“For?”
“I spoke with Dante Hildegard. He painted an enticing picture of his lifestyle. It almost sounded like a sales pitch.”
“And you rushed home to pack your bags.”
“Afraid you’ll lose me to the high life?”
He tilted her chin and held her gaze. “I might have to put this guy on my suspect list.”
His smile sent her heart skipping around her chest. “Anyone else might have salivated but I didn’t find any of it interesting. Maybe I imagined it, but I thought he was on a recruiting drive. Although I have no idea how I’d fit into the scheme of things.” She explained how Dante had singled her out and how Charlotte had avoided talking with her. Had she been invited for the sole purpose of having a face-to-face talk with Dante Hildegard? “I wish I had more for you.”
“It’s not as if you’re on the payroll, Eve.”
Thank goodness for that. She didn’t think she’d survive the constant stress. “So, what really brought you here, detective? You know if I had anything worthwhile I’d share it with you.”
“I’d actually appreciate your input. Your mind...” he shrugged. “It works in mysterious ways. You see things that would never occur to us.”
“Come in.”
They strode through to the kitchen. “Would you like some lunch?”
“No thanks, I’ve already eaten.”
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to finish mine. I didn’t have any dinner last night and I’m in need of comfort food,” she said and took a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich.
“Busy brainstorming?”
“Something like that.” She’d actually tried to switch off and stop thinking about suspects and killers on the loose. “So, what’s on your mind?”
“Some information has come to our attention.”
“You were serious.” She couldn’t hide her surprise. Jack had been warning her to steer clear of suspects since they’d first met. Had he finally accepted the fact she had an inbuilt magnet for trouble?
“Charlotte’s father lost a considerable amount of money.”
Eve surged to her feet, the words spilling out of her like a volcanic eruption, “That’s it. Charlotte had her hand forced. She had to agree to marry Jon.”
“Are you all right?”
She shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she sunk back down on her chair, probably looking as deflated as she felt.
“That was quite an explosion.”
She tried to laugh it off. “Honestly, that’s been sitting in the back of my mind for days. My head feels like a terminal station with trains clogging up the system. I haven’t been able to speak with Charlotte so I have no idea what drove her to pick someone like Jon.”
He brushed his hand along her back. “Feel better now?”
“Much, thanks.” She gave herself a moment to calm down. “Okay, tell me what else you got.”
“From what we understand, Charlotte doesn’t work. It would be safe to assume she had to find a new source of income.”
Eve agreed. “She wouldn’t be happy about daddy cutting off her allowance, or even cutting it back. She’s like the eye at the top of the pyramid. Everyone beneath her has to prop her up.” Eve stared into space, eyes unblinking, thoughts whirling around her head.
“What?”
“That’s it. Skimming,” she whispered.
“What about it?”
Again, she surged to her feet, but this time she strode around the room, her steps slow. “Returns on investments are dropping. Less money coming in. Standards of living on the rise. More money needed.”
Jack looked lost.
“Sorry. I’m used to doing this with Jill. She usually jumps in and adds to the mix or tries to make sense of what I’ve said.” She held up a finger. “Jon O’Brian was a wannabe underworld boss and how do these guys make their money? Extortion. They skim. They take a percentage. He must have had dozens of businesses under his so-called protection. Let’s imagine there are other ways of reeling in a new source of income. Like sponsorship. Help someone to get themselves on their feet and get a return for your investment.”
“Lana Bishop.”
Eve nodded. “I’m willing to bet there’s no proof of her taking out a loan from a bank to re-establish the catering business. Instead she went to Jon and he helped to bring her back from the brink of bankruptcy. He didn’t do it out of the goodness of his own heart. There had to be something in it for him. A percentage of takings.”
“I like what I’m hearing.”
But that still didn’t give her the answers she wanted. Or the motives Jack needed. “This is annoying. It’s like trying to think of a word and it sits on the tip of your tongue but refuses to take shape.” She glanced at the sheets of paper on the table stacked one on top of the other. Layers of fact and fiction.
Eve frowned.
“Did you just think of something?”
“Yes, I think I have but this is where I entertain way out there possibilities.”
Jack nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Charlotte’s desperate to retain the status quo of her life. She’s forced to marry for money. But she’s smart. If she marries someone from her inner circle, she risks facing the same circumstances of... what’s the term... diminishing returns.” She pumped her fist in the air. “She thinks she needs to introduce new blood. Yes, new money. While she has her standards, she’s smart enough to know she can make a small sacrifice for long-term gain.”
“You think she planned on divorcing Jon O’Brian?”
“Most likely. Although, he’d be smart enough to set up a prenuptial agreement of sorts. Charlotte wouldn’t like that.” She stopped. If Charlotte didn’t like something, she found a way to make it work for her. “Jon must have had a significant dollar value for her to consider marrying him.” Eve bit her lip and tried to digest the difficult conclusion. Charlotte’s long-term plan included killing her fiancé...
And framing Eve for it.
“You’re h
esitating. What’s wrong?”
Pointing the finger of suspicion at Charlotte was easy enough. But how would Charlotte have pulled it off? Had she somehow tampered with the pâté herself? “I’m stuck.” She lifted her shoulders and as another thought struck, they lowered. “Changing subjects at the rate of knots. Jill and I had this idea about a club and membership fees. Belonging to the jet set club requires a huge chunk of money. Let’s say, you’re wealthy enough to maintain a descent standard of living, but you’re rich and you want more. You want to rise to another level. To mix with an even better pedigree of people. Dante Hildegard is one of those people. He has entry into royal houses.”
Jack’s eyebrows rose.
“I know. It’s a world we don’t know anything about or even understand, but it exists. Anyway, Dante can facilitate entry...”
“At a cost.”
“Yes. Like everyone else, he has his own skimming company. He takes a percentage fee from people wanting to rise to another level in society.” She waved her hand. “Of course, he must have serious money stowed away in the Caymans or wherever super wealthy people put their money, but he’d never turn his back on a money spinning idea. I’m thinking Jon O’Brian might have paid a fee to enter Charlotte’s world. But something went wrong. No one approved of him. So, they... collectively... decided to get rid of him.”
“Are you saying they’re all in on it?” Jack brushed his hand across his chin. “I don’t know about that.”
“I told you it was way out there.” She held up her hand. “Hang on a sec. I need to think about something else.”
“Out loud please.”
“You’ll mock me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“All right. Here goes. What if Charlotte became Jon? Not literally. She steps into his shoes. She becomes the extortionist, skimming off the surface. She realizes she doesn’t need to marry Jon after all, so she does away with him.”
“Are you suggesting she cut out the middle man?”
“Yes.”
“Why not end the engagement?”
“This is Jon O’Brian. A tough guy. A gangster. He calls the shots. Who knows what he was capable of? I can only assume he wouldn’t like being pushed around and he wouldn’t take it sitting down. Charlotte loves her shoes. They come in all shades but concrete gray.”