Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four

by RAE STAPLETON

  “Who are you waving that gun at?” I asked gently.

  “Over there.” He pointed to the trees. “The witch. She’s always watching.”

  “What witch? I don’t see a witch, Sam.”

  “That bird right there—don’t ye see it? She’s always spyin’ with that damn bird.”

  Man, this guy was off his rocker. How did he ever get out of that Institution? He’d clearly read one to many of his ancestor’s journals and become obsessed, or maybe Liam told him all of this. Either way, I was not dealing with a fully rational, thinking person.

  Sam bristled, and pointed the gun back in my direction. I raised my hands to chest level. “I just want to help you.”

  “I believe ye, lass. Ye’re innocent in all of this. She told me that.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “The Witch. Alexandra. Don’t ye listen? She blames the baby.”

  “So, there’s a woman who’s helping you.” I asked, trying to follow Sam’s crazy logic but then I remembered Cullen had mentioned a woman’s voice. Maybe he wasn’t that crazy.

  Sam’s eyes looked straight into mine. “She’s the one who set Cullen free. I wasn’t supposed to hurt him and she’s not one to be crossed.”

  “Is Alexandra your Aunt? The woman I met from the Inn?” I spoke slowly and calmly like I was dealing with a child. He didn’t seem to notice.

  He smirked, clearly an inside joke. “My Aunt Ida. No. She hates me ‘cause she knows I pushed my Da from the castle. My Uncle doesn’t believe a bloody word she says.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. This guy was unhinged. How had he ever pulled the wool over our eyes— and for so long?

  “Alexandra needs yer help. She wants to go home but I’m sick of doin’ her biddin’.”

  “What do you mean, Sam?”

  His attention had wandered. He was staring off in the distance as if someone was behind me.

  Without warning and in rapid succession he lifted the gun from my chest and fired into the trees ahead of the car. I backed up and at the same time glanced over my shoulder. A raven flew off in the distance. Sam’s attention was elsewhere so I dove back inside the car for cover, skinning my knees on the glass. Cullen woke up again and I jammed his seatbelt button as hard as I could. He let out a moan as the buckle released. Shards of rotting wood splintered and flew off in the distance as Sam fired a fourth shot into a tree. He was shooting at someone out there? He was mumbling to himself and it sure seemed like he thought so.

  There was silence and then thankfully I heard tires squealing. Something or someone had scared him off–imaginary or real—I was grateful.

  SEVENTY-TWO

  I nspector Ó Cléirigh sat in our living room. The bullet had only grazed Cullen and since he’d refused to go back to the hospital, the paramedic had cleaned and bandaged his arm and sent us home with the good Inspector.

  “Can ye tell me what happened, Cullen, the night ye went missin’?”

  “Aye. Of course. Sam rang me the night of my bachelor party about a change of plans—said he was picking me up. As he was saying goodbye, he called me Goldie. I don’t know if he meant to do it or if it slipped out, but it prompted me to go through my brother’s box because he was the only person who had ever called me that. I’d seen the box earlier in the day when I was in the attic so I dragged it down and at first, I couldn’t find anything. Liam kept a journal but it didn’t mention a photojournalist named Sam. Then I found his photo album. Sure enough, I recognized Sam from my brother’s time in the mental institution.”

  I nodded. “That’s why Liam’s diary was in your desk—but I didn’t see any photo album.”

  “No, I would imagine Sam took it. Stupidly, I left it open on the coffee table before I got in the shower. He must have let himself in and saw the damn thing. I should have put it away. I wasn’t afraid of him, though, so it didn’t occur to me that he’d attack when I had my back turned. I don’t know what took me so long to remember.”

  “I don’t understand, though, if Sam and your brother were best friends, how come you didn’t recognize him before, at the castle or all the time we spent with him in India? Does he look that different?”

  “I’d never met him before. Da never let me visit Liam in the Institution. I thought he was away studying the word of God, remember? Anyway, Liam talked about him all the time after he came home, only I assumed he was a priest.”

  Ó Cléirigh listened to the rest of our story and then took a phone call.

  I turned to Cullen. “So, the night you were kidnapped, Sam came back to the house before we arrived. There was movement upstairs and Leslie and I thought it was you. I wonder what he was doing there.”

  Cullen shook his head. “Maybe he panicked and wanted to make sure there was nothin’ left that incriminated him.”

  “It’s odd that he left Liam’s diary.”

  “There was nothing about him in it. Maybe that’s what he was doin’ there, readin’ it. Or maybe he couldn’t find it. I’d put it in my desk.”

  Ó Cléirigh had been on the phone for the past ten minutes, but finally he hung up. His stony expression set alarm bells ringing.

  “Ye were right. We found evidence at Sam MacDonnell’s flat that leads us to believe Ms. Lovari was kidnapped from there.”

  “So, where is she?” I asked.

  “We don’t know that yet. She’s not bein’ held at the Castle, at least not where Cullen was,” Ó Cléirigh said. “They’ve searched it and his flat as well, from top to bottom. I’m on my way there now.”

  “Can’t you make Sam tell you where she is?”

  Ó Cléirigh paused and glanced down at the floor. “He’s disappeared. He ditched Leslie’s car and we don’t know what he’s drivin’ now. His own vehicle is at his flat. “

  “What about that witch? Could there be a woman named Alexandra Cuza helping him?”

  “It’s a possibility, but we haven’t located anyone by that name as of yet.”

  “You should check that inn we stayed at. His Aunt and Uncle owned it and he said his Aunt hated him because he killed his father. Maybe they know this Alexandra. And what about his editor? Were you able to locate her?”

  “I’m afraid that was all a lie. The website listed on the business card you gave me was bogus. As far as I can tell, his editor was a figment of his imagination. It seems much of the information he gave out was fictional. I can’t find anything on him outside of his stay in the mental institution. There’s no record of where he’s been livin’ or who’s been takin’ care of him. It wasn’t his father. They apparently didn’t have a very good relationship; that’s why I couldn’t take yer call the day Ms. Lovari was kidnapped. We were looking into him as suspect in his father’s murder. I was with the head of the Institution when ye called me. I didn’t realize ye were with him at the time or else I would have warned ye.”

  “Why did they ever release him? He’s clearly still ill.”

  “They didn’t. It seems one day he just disappeared from the Institution. “

  “What about his flat? Leslie stayed with him there.”

  “He only rented it after ye returned from India. It came furnished so nothin’ actually belongs to him.” The Inspector took his leave with the promise to check in on us the next day. As soon as the door closed, I looked at Cullen.

  “I’m calling Madam Brun.”

  “What? Why?”

  “What do you mean, why? You know why. She’s psychic and she’s helped me out of jams before. I should have called her already.”

  Cullen nodded, as if he knew there was no talking me out of it. “I guess we’re out of logical solutions.”

  I picked up my cellphone and began scrolling. I was sure I had her number in here somewhere. Sandra had barely answered when Cullen slammed his hand down on the table. “I’ve got it.”

  “Got what?” I questioned. “Sandra, hello. Sorry, that was rude of me. Cullen surprised me. I was just calling to get your help. Are you still in Dublin
? Oh, you’ve left. Could you read me over the phone? I’m trying to locate Leslie—someone’s kidnapped her.”

  Cullen was mumbling at the same time I was trying to listen to Sandra. I shot a dirty look in his direction but he persisted.

  “Did you hear what I said, Aeval? I know where they’re holding Leslie.”

  I almost dropped the phone. “Just a minute, Sandra. Cullen remembers something.” I turned to Cullen. “Where?”

  “The Colley Estate.”

  “No. Móraí would be there. She got back from France this week.”

  “She stays at Da’s. She doesn’t like being alone in the country now with Liam dead.”

  “Sorry, Sandra, I’ve got to go. Yes, yes. I’ll call you back.”

  Cullen grabbed a pipe wrench from under the sink and I grabbed the keys to his truck. I wasn’t sure how a pipe wrench would fare against a gun but at the same time it didn’t matter because Leslie’s life was at risk and the three of us were family.

  “We’ll call the Inspector on the way,” Cullen said, taking the keys from my hands, “And I’ll drive.”

  SEVENTY-THREE

  W hen we reached Liam’s old house on the Colley Estate, we saw that the door was ajar.

  I shuddered, thinking of when I’d come here earlier with Sam. He’d been so eager to charge in. Had he intended for me to join Leslie in captivity or had he really been looking for her that day? Thank goodness that nurse had called.

  “Are you sure we should charge in there?” I said, grabbing Cullen’s arm as he reached to push the door open. “You’ve been in a hospital for a week and you were shot today.”

  “It was a flesh wound and they bandaged me up,” Cullen said, his voice faltering. “Now let’s find Leslie before that scumbag does somethin’ stupid. Anyway, there are no other vehicles here, so maybe he knew better than to return.”

  As we entered the foyer, the first thing that hit me was the total silence. It was eerie and I didn’t like it one bit.

  We moved down the hall and through the kitchen, living room and bathroom. With the main floor empty we continued up the stairs.

  “Sam, get out here, ye bloody coward,” Cullen said, flexing his hands around the wrench he carried.

  “Don’t goad him!” I whispered and glanced over my shoulder, paranoid that Sam would come up the stairs from behind.

  We tiptoed down the hall and checked the guest bedroom first and then the bathroom. Both were empty. Then we came to the main bedroom. The door was closed. Cullen cracked it open but it was dark inside. The curtains were drawn tight.

  “The lamp,” I directed. “Switch it on,” I moved across to the figure in the bed.

  The room exploded into bright light.

  “Leslie, oh my God,” I said, kneeling down in front of her. Leslie raised her head, a gag tight across her mouth. Her face was bruised and her eyes hollow and vacant. It was like she didn’t recognize me.

  I untied the gag while Cullen stayed back, glancing at the door—ready for Sam should he dare make an appearance.

  “Soph,” Leslie mouthed, gasping for breath. “Sam,” she said.

  I cupped Leslie’s face with my hand.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” I promised. “Where is he?”

  Leslie shook her head that she didn’t know.

  I smiled supportively then looked up at Cullen.

  “Ye untie her,” he said. “I’m goin’ on.”

  “No,” I said. “He could be anywhere. You know this place is filled with hidden tunnels. We got Leslie, now let’s get to safety and the Inspector can worry about tracking down Sam.”

  Cullen reluctantly nodded. We untied Leslie, switched the light off and then helped her down the stairs.

  As we opened the front door a gunshot rang out. Cullen scooped Leslie up into his arms and practically ran down the porch steps.

  “It came from the graveyard out behind the church,” I whispered.

  He set Leslie down but she wobbled. I moved in and slipped an arm around her waist, propping her up while he took off in the direction of the church.

  “Take her to the car,” he shouted back to me.

  I was sure I could see an outline of someone over by Liam’s grave.

  “Be careful,” I shouted back, knowing he wouldn’t stop even if I begged. “He has a gun!” I shouted again even louder.

  “As if he didn’t know that,” Leslie said, her voice stronger now.

  “Good point,” I said, feeling the muscles in my back tighten. “I can’t let Cullen go alone and I can’t carry you all the way to the grave.” I was still stiff from the accident. “Do you want me to leave you in the car or are you okay to walk?”

  “I’m good and I’m coming with you,” she said, and we were off—moving much more quickly across the property now.

  I heard Cullen shout and I broke into a run.

  “Cullen,” I gasped, coming up behind him, “Is he dead.”

  “Not yet, but he will be shortly,” Cullen said.

  Sam lay in a mass of blood. The gun had fallen only a few feet from his outstretched hand. Blood splatter covered Liam’s headstone.

  “I guess he shot himself, but the abdomen is a strange place to shoot yerself when committing suicide,” Cullen replied.

  “Sam’s dead?” Leslie said, coming up behind me. I’d let her go and run a few feet ahead of her when we’d gotten close.

  “I’m sorry, Leslie, but you know he wasn’t well,” I whispered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He kidnapped you.”

  “He did?”

  “You didn’t see who kidnapped you?”

  “No,” she replied.

  She had the worst luck with men.

  Leslie brought a hand to her mouth and I patted her back. My stomach suddenly rolled and I knew I was going to be sick. I handed her off to Cullen and walked away just in time. Ó Cléirigh would be pissed if I contaminated the crime scene.

  “That’s the second time you puked this week.” Leslie laughed awkwardly at me through the tears, which would have been highly inappropriate to anyone else under the circumstances but was actually a normal occurrence for us. Neither one of us was comfortable crying in front of others and we often attempted to lighten heavy moods.

  “You’re keeping track, huh?”

  “I think you’re getting soft on me.”

  Cullen was on the phone to the Inspector when Sam suddenly opened his eyes.

  “She shot me,” Sam whispered in a barely audible voice.

  “Who shot you?” I turned back to Cullen and shouted, “He’s speaking,” then I dropped to my knees so I was at Sam’s side and lowered my voice. “What are you talking about, Sam? Did someone do this to you?”

  “The witch. She’s mad because I made a bollix of this whole thing.”

  “What whole thing, Sam? Was she in India with us? Did she set up that fake idol in the temple?”

  “No, I paid Mani to do it.”

  “And you paid those kids to push Rav Kumar into the street?”

  “Mani did, yes.”

  “Did he break into our room and go through our suitcases?”

  “It was me.”

  “Why would you do that? You wanted the sapphire?”

  “No. She wanted the sapphire back.”

  “Who?”

  “The witch.”

  Cullen gave me a wide-eyed look and then wound his finger in a circular motion at the side of his head, indicating Sam’s loss of wits.

  “Why did you kill them all after? Why did you kill Saraswati?”

  “She caught me breaking into your room. I had to kill Mani and his sister—they’d seen my face.”

  Tears surfaced in Sam’s eyes and I felt the guilt once again. All of this over the sapphire. That cursed jewel had ruined so many lives.

  “Why does this witch, Alexandra, want the sapphire so badly?”

  “I told ye before—she wants to go home. Ye were supposed to open the porta
l. Ye were supposed to think Cullen had gone back in time. She said you would have no choice but to use the magic and go after Cullen but I lost my temper and I was gonna kill him so she left ye that picture so ye’d find him and then she took Leslie ‘cause I threatened to tell her everything. She’ll curse ye…to be sure…just like before.”

  I looked at Leslie and she shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t seem to know of any witch.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood, Aeval. He doesn’t know what he’s sayin’. He probably has multiple personalities and one of them is a witch named Alexandra.”

  “Ye’ll see…Not over.” Sam stuttered. “She doesn’t care about ye but she wants the baby.”

  I twisted my head to look up at Leslie.

  “Don’t look at me,” she whispered. “You know Liam’s baby is long gone.”

  I sighed with relief and Sam took his final breath.

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  Christmas Day,

  I looked around the castle’s magnificent library where our wedding reception was currently in progress. It was warmly lit, with purple and gold spotlights set throughout the room to give the large space an intimate feel. Surrounded by two tiers of stately cast-iron columns, decorative railings, and of course books, there couldn’t have been a more perfect setting for Cullen and I—the bibliophile and the castle architect.

  A silver ice bucket with a protruding champagne bottle was placed on the table in front of us for one last toast. It was almost midnight but everyone still looked lovely, all raring to go, decked out in their best party wear. Even Móraí looked happy for us, making me feel downright guilty for all the nasty thoughts I’d harbored over the last year.

  As for me, I was tired but I was constantly being primped so no one would know. Thankfully my glam squad kept me the picture of sexy sophistication, fixing my pin curls, straightening my art deco-styled veil, and of course re-applying my mascara and red lipstick every time I threw up, which according to Leslie had been three times this evening. Why was she always counting?