Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four

by RAE STAPLETON

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Nick was an ass, but he was really worried about the guy you were involved with. He said he thought there were things you should know about his—”

  “Come on, Jana,” I said, cutting her off. “Your brother was just being jealous. Cullen is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Tears trickled down her face.

  “Oh, geez, Jana, I’m sorry. That was insensitive. Listen, I promise I’ll take it with me. I just can’t deal with it right now, okay?” I reached out and made myself take the letter.

  It felt like a weight in my hands. Not that it was heavy, but I sensed something dark and ominous about it.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  L eslie pointed to the corner of the coffee shop where Rissa sat at one of the tables, sipping from a cup. I smiled and took in the larger woman, with her deep olive complexion and jet-black curly hair. Not much had changed about her in the last year.

  As if she sensed us watching her, she rose and beckoned us over, smiling broadly as we reached her and pulling me in tight to her large bosom. I hugged her back, and then disentangled myself.

  “Sophia. I hardly recognize you. Have you lost weight? And your hair has highlights now. I love it.”

  “Thank you, Rissa.” I laughed. “I missed your hugs. You remember my best friend, Leslie?”

  “Of course. Nice to see you again, my dear.”

  Leslie reached out her hand and Rissa pulled her in for a hug as well.

  I sat in the chair across from Rissa and waited for them to follow suit.

  “I can’t believe you came,” Rissa said.

  “Can I get you ladies something?” the waitress asked, approaching the table.

  “I’ll have coffee,” I said.

  “Me two,” added Leslie.

  I turned back to Rissa as the waitress flipped our cups and poured.

  “Of course I came.”

  We waited for the waitress to finish, then Rissa spoke.

  “I wasn’t sure how long you’d be staying. I was so sad to hear about your fiancé.”

  “Ex-fiancé, and you don’t have to say that. I know there was never any love lost between the two of you.”

  “Oh, you! You were always so good at seeing through me. He treated you badly and your Gigi, well she just never liked him and she was the best judge of character I ever met. Oh how I miss her.”

  “I miss her too.”

  “I know, honey,” she said, reaching across the table. “I’m sorry. I’m babbling. I just miss our little chats. Not to mention you were the best tenant I ever had. The couple I have in there now drive me crazy.”

  “You mentioned that on the phone the other week?” I laughed.

  “Well that’s how crazy they’re driving me. Can’t even remember what I’m saying or to whom.” She grinned.

  “Anyway, I was telling Leslie on the way over here about my cousin Loni and how she was murdered when I was a kid. You mentioned on the phone that she was onto some big story or something.”

  “Yep. That’s most likely what got her killed.” Rissa nodded.

  “Did she say what the story was about?” I asked before taking a sip of my coffee.

  “No. She had a bunch of questions though, about your family history, and she wanted to see some reincarnation curse that your Gigi had?”

  I nodded, knowing full well Loni had either seen the spellbook or the page ripped from it. That was what her book was about.

  “Just a second, darling,” Rissa said and broke away.

  “You’re still working a lot, eh?” I asked when she returned.

  “Of course. Gotta keep busy, you know. My friends stop working and they all kick the bucket. Not me. I’m gonna live forever.”

  I smiled. “You and Gigi were peas in a pod.”

  “That’s the highest compliment, child. Anyway, I hate to cut this short but I should go. My son works for me now, but he’s not always good at dealing with the negotiations,” she said, getting to her feet as sprightly as a seventy-year-old woman could. She glanced around the restaurant impatiently as if looking for the waitress.

  “It’s okay, Rissa. Go on. I got the coffee,” I said.

  “Thanks, darling.” She bent down to give me one last hug. “You have a safe trip and come back and stay with me sometime. Old ladies get lonely, you know.”

  “I will.”

  “And be careful,” she said, turning to go. “Last time I said goodbye to a young woman heading to Ireland, she never came home.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  Rissa’s phone rang again. “Just a minute… Hello. Yes, they have a few concerns we want to discuss—yeah and the hot tub warranty, but not much else. I’ll be there in ten.”

  She hung up the phone. “Sorry about that.”

  “No problem,” I said, rising. “Go sell your house.”

  We hugged again and Rissa lingered as she let go.

  “I mean it, Soph. I promised your Gigi that I’d look out for you. Take care over there.”

  “I will, but who moved to Ireland that you know? Maybe I can look them up for you when I get back there.”

  “Moved? Oh, you mean left for Ireland.”

  “Yeah, you said.”

  “Oh, that. I was talking about Loni, silly. Didn’t you know that’s where she was murdered?”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  L eaving the house, I headed for Dublin. The air was lush with blossoms, thick and scented on the trees. I was meeting Penelope first for some shopping and then Lucille later for lunch. And while I enjoyed Dublin’s architecture, my favorite part of Ireland was the countryside—the rolling ocean of green interrupted only by cottages, churches, and ruminating sheep, with crumbling stone fences dotting the lush natural beauty. Still despite the beauty, I couldn’t shake the icky feeling my nightmares had left behind.

  “Dollface, what are you doing up so late?” Gigi asked.

  My voice cracked. “I dreamt about that girl again.”

  “Loni, you mean?”

  “The blonde from the back of the book.”

  “Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Gigi suggested.

  I gave her a wide-eyed look and shook my head. “What happened to her?” I asked.

  Gigi wrapped an arm around my back and patted it. “Come on downstairs. We’ll have a cup of warm milk and honey.”

  I managed a nod and trotted down the stairs after her.

  I sat on a chair and watched as she heated and stirred the milk.

  “You know, my sister was about your age when she started having dreams like that, too.”

  “About Loni?” I whispered.

  “No—not Loni, but others. She was sensitive and she dreamed too. Don’t be afraid of your dreams. I know this one is scary because it’s violent, but they aren’t all like that and this gift is magical.”

  I shivered, rolling my window up a little. After that night, the nightmares faded so why had they returned? My thoughts turned back to my friend, Penelope—naked and tied up. I pulled into the parking lot and picked up my cell thinking of Rissa and what she’d said about Loni Switzer. He didn’t answer so I left a voicemail. If Loni had been killed in Ireland then maybe he could look into the records. I needed to know whether my dreams were fact or fiction.

  Scanning the street for my bouncy blonde friend, I checked my cell. I’d called her twice and sent her a text already, to no avail. Had Penelope forgotten that we changed the meeting place? She was now over forty minutes late. What was I thinking—choosing such a busy place? We were going to be late for lunch with Lucille. I shifted the bag over my shoulder; it was getting heavy. Gigi’s amulet amongst a lot of junk like the letter from Nick was crammed inside. I should throw the letter away. I can’t believe I almost let him under my skin once again.

  My phone pinged with an incoming text. Finally, I thought, expecting Penelope’s response. I smiled as I read Cullen’s message: Missing you already. Can’t wai
t for our date tonight.

  I would rather have spent the day with him after being away for the week but he’d had plans with his Da, so I was going to enjoy a nice girls’ day with Lucille and Penelope—that is, if Penelope would ever show up.

  I debated heading back to the Molly Malone statue, our original intended location. Instead, I gave up and ducked inside the jewelry shop. With only a week left before the big day, I had one last thing to take care of.

  “Can I help you, Miss?”

  I handed the girl behind the counter a ticket. “I’m here to drop off the amulet.”

  “This is the jewel being incorporated into the dagger, right?”

  I nodded. I couldn’t wait to surprise Cullen at the rehearsal dinner with an exact replica of his great-great-great-grandfather’s beautifully crafted blade—using the stone from Gigi’s necklace.

  “Great. It should be ready for pick up by Friday, as promised.”

  “Thank you. My brother-in-law will be picking it up for me.”

  Liam was even going to bless it with holy water prior to the dinner. Cullen and I needed a fresh start and what would be better than turning the cursed Delhi Sapphire into a blessing.

  I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes late. Lucille had messaged me and said she was already inside ordering drinks. Penelope still hadn’t responded. As I walked toward the window front, I noticed a reflection from the other side of the street; it jarred me. Just like the cemetery, there was a stocky, well-built man with a hoodie pulled up around his face. I could see a couple of dark pieces of hair jutting out from under the red hood. Dark sunglasses covered his face. I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but after my half-starved delusional moment at the cemetery… Nick’s closed casket flashed in my head. I wished fervently now that I’d looked inside. What if he was alive and his funeral had only been some elaborate scheme to trick me into letting my guard down? No, I shook it off. I’d seen the picture of his dead body.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to recall the image, to think whether I really recognized it as Nick. The face had been smashed beyond recognition. I opened my eyes back up just as the man turned and walked away, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

  THIRTY-NINE

  S hivering, I started up the stone path to the front door of Cullen’s Tudor-style cottage. I loved his house—it reminded me of Snow White’s cottage with its steeply pitched roof and massive chimney thrusting skyward. My favorite part was the diamond-paned windows, all of which were dark now, except Cullen’s study, which seemed to emit a faint red glow.

  I quickened my pace, focusing on the lighted window. He’s home, I told myself. He must have been dropped off, though, since his Landrover wasn’t in the drive. I wonder why? Still, my stomach tightened the moment I shut the door and called for him. Only silence answered. I took out my cell and quickly shot him a you home? message.

  Eyeballing the wine on the counter, I slipped off my shoes and pulled the French doors open, taking in the scent of sweet vanilla and honeysuckle from the gardens. No more bad thoughts. I was letting my imagination run away with me.

  I needed to get ready for my dinner date—an entire evening alone with Cullen. My heart leapt at the thought.

  I stopped by the study, which was on the way to the bedroom. Cullen loved this room. It was decorated with masculine oil paintings of ships and battle scenes. Bookshelves lined the back wall behind his desk, surrounding a large marble fireplace which shed a dying glow. So that was why it seemed a little brighter than the rest. Cullen must have left in a hurry today.

  I switched on the desk lamp and gazed across the room at his shelf full of books. Vehicles, mechanics, architecture: all things that reminded me of Cullen. All except for one on spirituality. How had Loni’s book gotten here? Had Cullen unpacked my box? I walked over to the shelf and picked it up, running my hand along the cover before opening it. The edges were ear marked and smudged. This wasn’t my copy.

  Why would Cullen have a book written by Loni Switzer? Had he come across it and saved it for me? I tried to think of whether we’d ever talked about Loni. I couldn’t recall the discussion ever happening.

  I put it back and turned away, looking at Cullen’s desk; it was massive and dark, like my feelings at the moment. I hated to invade his privacy, but I just couldn’t ignore my intuition.

  The drawers extended down both sides, almost—but not quite—reaching the clawed feet. The top was clean, unlike the surface of my old desk—which was always piled so high with papers and half-drunk cups of coffee. I grasped the knob on the top left-hand drawer. Locking drawers now are we?

  My eyes darted back to the bookshelf, then wandered along the walls which were painted a pale, buttery yellow. This room which I normally found cheerful and pleasant felt like it was closing in on me. My heart sped up. Maybe it was time to open Nick’s letter. I tried the next drawer down. Inside, there was nothing but a notebook and a few pens. I was stalling. I moved the notebook and—bingo—found a letter opener but as I reached for it, the hair on my arms prickled.

  A familiar address stood out to me, written on a little blue matchbook. Gripping the desk's lip to steady myself, hands shaking, I pulled the memorable little matchbook out. I closed my eyes, banishing the sight of Nick’s flat number from my mind.

  “It’s not possible,” I whispered numbly, shaking my head. I reached into my purse and pulled out Nick’s envelope. I grabbed the opener and tore in. My stomach churned and my hands shook.

  Sophia,

  I know you told me to stay away and you’re probably rolling your eyes right now but please leave Ireland. I swear I’m not writing this to fight with you or to be spiteful. You’re being fooled and if you don’t wake up before it’s too late, you’ll be dead. I realize I’m the last person you want to hear this from but it’s true. I hired a private investigator and this is what he found…

  My tears spilled onto the page as I glanced at the investigators notes scrawled below. I could make out key words like mentally unstable. It was so messy. I could hardly focus. Handwriting was clearly a lost art, but then again, I was crying so hard my vision was blurred.

  “Sophia? Ye home?” Cullen’s voice floated up the stairs and down the hall.

  My heart was pounding violently. Desperately I tried to control my tears as I folded the paper quickly in half but not before noticing the words raped and accused of murder. I used my sleeves to dry my tears.

  “Yes,” I called back, trying to make my voice sound as normal as possible. “You didn’t respond to my text.”

  I looked down at my phone, blinking, and felt completely caught off guard.

  “I’m just on the phone in the study.”

  “It’s almost dinner time. Shouldn’t ye be after gettin’ ready?”

  “Yep, I will in just a moment.”

  Cullen’s footsteps receded. The house was suddenly very still. I let out my breath and reached for the phone. My hand was shaking so much I could scarcely punch in the numbers.

  She answered on the first ring.

  “Penelope. Oh, Penelope, thank God. What happened to you today?” I struggled to keep my voice steady.

  “Sophia! I’m sorry I flaked. I meant to text you back. I’ve just been busy.” The voice at the other end was so quiet it was almost a whisper.

  I heard a muffled sound in the background, followed by her giggle.

  “Doing what?” I said suspiciously.

  “I was dress shopping. I have a date tonight and I needed something to wear.”

  I didn’t bother mentioning that she was supposed to be shopping with me. I doubted she’d done anything other than whoever was making her giggle.

  “A date?” I whined. “I found something. I need to show you. You have to come to dinner with us.”

  “Sorry, I can’t.” She sing-songed out the words.

  “You haven’t even been in Dublin that long. Who is your date?”

  “Does it matter?”

  The p
hone muffled for a moment and I realized she had cupped the receiver to speak to her mystery hunk.

  The steps creaked and I suddenly wondered where Cullen was.

  “Yes, it matters,” I answered, lowering my voice.

  Penelope sighed. “Why are you whispering?”

  I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself “Why are you changing the subject? Is he married or something? Whatever, we can discuss this later, but you need to cancel.” I lowered my voice even further. “I found the matchbook Nick gave me.”

  “So?”

  “So…it was in Cullen’s desk and I also found a book written by my cousin, it’s a spiritual book that references the Delhi Sapphire. Penelope, I’m wondering if Cullen is my stalker.”

  There was a slight pause, then her voice, very gentle, came again. “Cullen, really?”

  “I don’t want it to be true, but on top of that, Nick hired a private investigator to look into Cullen’s history. He wrote me a letter but it was too upsetting to finish—he’s basically accusing Cullen of being a homicidal maniac.”

  “Oh my goodness, Sophia. Okay, fine, you win. I’ll cancel, but if that’s true then you need to get out of there[RS4].”

  I swallowed hard. For a moment I could not speak, then I managed to whisper, “No, I can’t just yet. If he is the one, he’d just find me and anyway Nick could have been just stirring up trouble. I need to dig deeper, but I don’t want him to know anything is wrong. Besides, I don’t know for sure. I hope I’m wrong about this. Oh God, I love him so much.”

  Tears pooled in my eyes once again, threatening to cascade down my cheeks.

  “Still, you shouldn’t be alone with him,” Penelope reasoned. She cupped the phone once again. I could hear soft murmurs but I couldn’t make out the words. “You need to invite somebody else, somebody dependable and safe.”

  FORTY

  T he Italian restaurant was located in an old quarter of Dublin, where the street was narrow and cobbled. We were sitting in the corner on seats of red velvet.

  “How romantic,” said Penelope, twirling spaghetti noodles on her fork.