Natalie was waiting for him downstairs, standing in the doorway between the lobby and the living room. She had her arms folded and looked like she was deep in thought.
“Good morning,” said John. “Hey… how much of last night can you remember?”
Natalie looked up at him as he made his way down the last staircase and shook her head.
“Enough. We just drank some wine in my room and then went to bed.” There was something about the terseness of her answer that made John feel a little bit suspicious.
“Oh,” he said. “Good.”
She pulled him into a hug as he approached her. John felt the softness of her breasts and body for only a moment before she stepped back, looking into his face at arm’s length.
“John.” She gave him a serious look. “Erik van Katho has invited me to his mansion, tonight. To have dinner with him.”
John blinked, and felt his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. This was exactly what the message from his grandfather had warned about, but if he didn’t handle it with tact, it would blow up in his face.
“That guy? I thought you hated him?” There was a real hint of jealousy in John’s voice as he spoke, furrowing his brow and scrutinizing her.
“I do,” said Natalie. “But I also think that, if we are going to stay here on Blackthorn, we need to start considering our position on the island. John, there are a lot of different interests at play here, and if we aren’t getting involved actively, we’re going to end up getting shorted.”
John stared into her eyes. Natalie’s cheeks were a little flushed, and when John noticed he suddenly became even more horrified of the prospect of her eating dinner and going on a date with Erik van Katho. It wasn’t just about what the message had warned against, it was more than that.
“But, there have got to be other ways that we can do that,” said John. He scratched his head and tried to think of some, none coming to mind.
“There aren’t, honey,” she said. “It will be okay, don’t worry.”
“How will it be okay?” John felt his voice betraying his emotions. “You’re going to have dinner with him? At his mansion? I don’t even remember the last time you went on a date!”
Natalie sighed, and then smiled weakly at him.
“It will be okay because…” She trailed off, and it looked like she was forcing the last of her words out. “John, you’re going to be there, too.”
John stared at her blankly.
“Kari is going to be your date for the night. We… are going on a double date.”
“What?” John blinked a couple of times, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.
“I think it actually may have been her idea,” said Natalie. “I know Erik well enough to know that this isn’t really his style. But, regardless, he pitched the idea to me, and I agreed to it, even though I loathe the man. It’s important for us to at least make friends with them, John.”
John took a deep breath, feeling his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest. It felt like an impossible situation, a conflict of major interests for him. How was he supposed to enjoy his date with Kari and deal with the schemes of Erik van Katho at the same time?
“We’re meeting them at the van Katho mansion at 7 pm,” she said. “Have Olivia pick out some nice semi-formal dress clothes for you to wear.”
It took John another few seconds for him to find his voice.
“Okay,” he said. “I will.”
“Great! Thank you, honey!” Natalie pulled him in close and kissed him on the cheek, her breasts pushing up against his arm.
John was a little surprised by how happy she looked. If felt weird, and made him a little uncomfortable to think about being on a date with Kari, with his mother and Erik along with them, on a date with each other. The feeling only grew worse as he began to consider just how far things might go, and where the night might end up after a couple of bottles of wine.
He tried to clear his head, walked into the living room, and took a seat on the couch. The mansion had a large flat screen TV that he hadn’t so much as turned on since moving in, and the remote for it was lying on an end table next to where he was sitting. He picked it up and powered the display on.
There was a news anchor behind a desk and a picture of Alison Orton in the top right corner of the screen. John almost dropped the remote in surprise.
“For more on the story, let’s go to Alex Langdon, who is reporting live from outside the office where the victim was found. Alex?”
The image cut to an outside shot of the private investigator’s office, the very same one that John had been in the day before. John stood up from the couch and walked over to the TV, watching in shock as a new reporter began to speak.
“Thank you, Lisa. The victim was Alison Orton, a thirty-four year old resident of Blackthorn Isle who ran a private investigation office here on the island. The police have not yet released any further details other than that they’re suspicious that they death may have been from unnatural causes. As soon as we get more information, we will give you an update.”
The screen cut back to the other anchor. John tapped on the remote until the TV was off, and fell back into a seated position on the couch as his legs gave out. She was dead. All of the concerns that John had been harboring about the potential dangers contained in navigating the power structure of the island had been realized in an instant.
John had no idea what to do, or how to protect himself. It was impossible for him to know about the private investigator’s death and draw any conclusion from it that didn’t involve him getting her killed. He’d made a foolish attempt at convincing her be a double agent for him, and it had blown up in his face.
Strangely, instead of being overcome with paranoia or fear, John began to smile. This was the reality that Marcus van Ludling, his grandfather, had lived and died in. This was John’s life now and whether he liked it or not, he was going to have to figure out how to swim in the deep end, and fast.
CHAPTER 22
John was up and moving across the lobby only seconds after watching the broadcast. Natalie saw him and flashed a curious, disapproving look.
“Where are you off to walking so fast?” she asked.
“Mom, the private investigator is dead,” said John. “Alison Orton.”
Natalie looked at him blankly, the information taking a second to soak in. When it finally did, she shook her head and walked over to him.
“Honey, that’s got nothing to do with you,” she said. “Absolutely nothing. If you head out to the crime scene, it’s only going to give the investigators the wrong idea.”
John shook his head and pushed the front door open.
“I have to go.” John smiled solemnly at her. “I am one of the investigators.”
He thought for a moment about taking one of the cars to cut down his travel time, but it was a nice day outside, and he felt as though it would draw even more unneeded attention. So instead, John walked, but quickly. Quick enough that by the time he had made it to the base of the hill that the private investigator’s office was on, his calves were threatening to cramp up and fail him.
The office was cordoned off by yellow tape along with the area twentyish feet out around it. John paused when he got to the police tape and looked around. There was a man standing by a police car that could have only been a sheriff, with a brown uniform and flat circle brim hat. Next to him was a woman in a soft-looking white blouse wearing a long black overcoat who appeared to be speaking into a handheld recorder.
Neither of them noticed John right away. It was a fact that he used to his advantage, taking his time to examine the scene from where he stood and think through the possibilities in his head. The front door leading into the office looked to be intact, with no visible damage. It had been unlocked when John had stopped by to see her, but that had been during the day. Slowly, he began to piece the facts together.
“John van Ludling…” The sheriff had finally noticed him and made his way ove
r. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Sheriff Amos, the lawman here on Blackthorn.”
John nodded and extended your hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” said John. “It would seem that you already know who I am.”
Surprisingly, the sheriff let out a laugh that sounded kinder than John had been expecting.
“That I do,” he said. “I knew your grandfather before he passed. He was truly a hell of a guy and did more for this community than all the other residents twice put together. It was… a damn shame, what happened to him.”
John could hear genuine sorrow in the man’s voice, and began to mirror it in his heart. There were so many people on Blackthorn Isle who had told him similar things that part of him felt as though he should be used to it by now. But he wasn’t, and all he could do was wonder about his grandfather and mourn the fact that he never got a chance to know him.
“Thank you, sheriff,” said John. “I appreciate that.”
The sheriff leaned in close to him and put a hand on his shoulder. John was a little taken aback by the familiarity of the gesture, almost as though the two of them were drinking together at a bar, and not standing in front of a fresh crime scene.
“John, it’s not my proper place to give you advice, I must concede.” The sheriff looked at him seriously. “But if you do anything as the new Count Ludling, it should be to honor Marcus’s memory. His shoes are big ones to fill, but if you even manage a halfway decent try, you’ll earn my respect and that of the townspeople.”
John didn’t say anything. The sheriff had an intense look in his eyes, and his words reverberated in his head.
“Sheriff Amos, I’d appreciate it if you’d do your job, which at the moment, is to help me do mine.” The woman in black spoke in a cold voice as she slowly walked over to them. She was tall, with jet black hair and eyes that suggested a vaguely Asiatic ancestry. The overcoat she wore obscured most of her figure, but John could still see a hint of an ample bosom pushing out.
“Er… sorry.” Sheriff Amos took a step back from John and smiled ruefully. “John, you being here is actually somewhat convenient for us. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
John looked from the sheriff to the woman. Her eyes were locked onto him, sharp and observant.
“John, my name is Detective Wilkins. I’m from the mainland, and I’m here to help provide an impartial investigation into the death of Ms. Orton.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” said John. There was a momentary silence on the air that told him everything he needed to know. His mom had been right.
“John, is there anyone who can collaborate your whereabouts last night from about six until midnight?” Detective Wilkins’ face was full of suspicion. John thought carefully for a moment before answering.
“I was at Ludling Mansion, in my room.” It was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth. The last thing John wanted to do was involve his mom in the investigation if it could be avoided.
“So there isn’t anybody that could vouch for you, then?” asked Detective Wilkins. John shook his head and watched as the detective and the sheriff exchanged a glance.
“John, we know that you met with Alison Orton yesterday,” said the woman. “Do you want to tell us a little about what happened during that meeting?”
John didn’t say anything. His mom had been right, and he was becoming increasingly aware of just how hard it would be for him to be honest without giving the detective the wrong impression. It was almost as though Wilkins could read his mind. She smiled and pushed a couple of strands of hair out of her face.
“Several of Ms. Orton’s cameras were missing, the only things stolen from her office,” said the detective. “You wouldn’t know anything about that either, would you?”
It took every ounce of control that John had to keep his emotions from showing on his face. Alison Orton was dead, and the secrets she had discovered about him and his mom had been passed on to someone else, like a cursed inheritance.
“Am I under arrest, Ms. Wilkins?” asked John.
“That’s Detective Wilkins.” The woman corrected him coldly, but there was a touch of something that sounded almost like respect in her voice. “And no, Count Ludling, you are not under arrest.”
John nodded to her and to Sheriff Amos, who looked like he was conflicted by his current assignment.
“Alright, then,” said John. “Have a nice day.”
He turned and walked away from them, away from the office of the private investigator, and away from the chaos that the problem represented in his life.
It was hard for John to process Alison’s death, even without taking the police and their questions into the equation. She had been so vibrant and confident when he’d seen her, and now she was dead. She was dead because of him.
John had paid her to stop investigating him, and apparently whoever she had been working for wasn’t happy about it. That was the only explanation he could come up with that made any sense.
The obvious thing to do would be to tell the police, and let them in on everything. Unfortunately, it was impossible with the secret that Alison had unknowingly discovered. He wasn’t willing to consider the possibility of his mom getting dragged into it, not under any circumstance.
“John? Are you okay?” Chad’s loud voice was in his ear, and John realized that the man had been calling out to him for a minute. He’d been walking in a trance, too caught up in his own thoughts and problems for the outside world to be able to reach him.
“Oh… sorry.” John stopped and walked over to the entrance of the Red Thorn Tavern, where Chad was standing. He saw the worried look on the man’s face, and forced himself to smile.
“It’s been a confusing morning,” said John. “And I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“John, you don’t have to beat around the truth with me,” said Chad. “I’m here if you need advice, or an ear to shout into.”
John smiled, for real this time.
“Thanks, Chad,” he said. “I’ve… got myself into a bit of trouble.”
Part of John wanted to leave it just at that. Part of him didn’t want the friendly tavern owner to push it any further, to ask him to explain, and try to help.
Chad nodded, a strange gleam showing in his eyes. He brought one of his massive hands down on John’s shoulder, and then gestured to the door.
“Come on inside, young Count,” he said. “I’ll have Amelia fix us some coffee.”
A couple of minutes later, the two were sitting at the bar counter with a steaming mug in front of each of them. As always, Amelia had greeted John warmly, but he had brushed her off, and for once, it looked like she’d listened to him.
“Now tell me,” said Chad. “Does you being out walking around town looking so miserable this morning have anything to do with the woman I saw on the news?”
John was a stunned by the man’s perceptiveness. He slowly nodded.
“Yeah, it does,” he said. “But Chad, you have to listen to me, I-“
“You had nothing to do with it.” Chad smiled at him. “I know you didn’t, John. I knew your grandfather, and trust me, that’s more than enough for me to base your innocence off of.”
There it was again. Marcus van Ludling had a way of guiding and protecting John, even from beyond the grave. Whatever the man had done to deserve his reputation must have been incredible, John silently mused.
“I can’t explain any of it, Chad.” John sighed and looked down into his cup. “I am innocent. But the way that the chips are falling, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to prove it.”
Chad clapped him on the back, and John was knocked forward far enough to make him almost spill his coffee.
“You’re still new to this island, so it’s up to me to let you in on this.” Chad glanced over at the bar, making sure Amelia was preoccupied with some dishes in the back. “That woman, Alison Orton… She was investigating a lot of people in town. It’s no surprise to me that someone paid her to have you on
her hit list. Everyone important in Blackthorn is on that list.”
John furrowed his brow. He hadn’t thought of that. Chad paused, looked over at Amelia again, and then leaned in even closer.
“There is something else on top of that, John.” Chad grimaced, and then blushed slightly. “Alison Orton… I’m not quite sure how to say, or uh, admit this, but… Well, let’s just say that she is a very open, friendly woman.”
John scratched his head, unsure of whether or not Chad was saying what he thought he was saying.
“On one such occasion, she was investigating one of my neighbors and came to talk to me, and well, see, here’s the thing…” The shame was readily visible on Chad’s face, almost painful for John to see, all things considered. “We uh, talked for a good, long time. I get the feeling that the fancy city detective will be by sometime today to chat to me, as well. Let’s just hope I get to her before Amelia does.”
John couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Chad sighed and looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.
“How is your coffee treating you, John?” Amelia had snuck over to the side of him while he’d been talking to the tavern owner, and set her hand down on his shoulder.
“It’s perfect, Amelia,” said John. “Just perfect.”
“Would you like me to put some more sugar in?” she asked. “Or maybe help you with something else?”
“You know, that would be great.” John locked eyes with her and felt an illicit shiver run through his crotch.
After a second, Chad cleared his throat loudly and slid his cup over to his wife.
“Mine too, if you don’t mind,” he said. “So like I was saying John, it will be fine. Trust me.”
John nodded and then stood up from the counter.
“I appreciate that, Chad,” he said. “I should get going. I’ve got a long day ahead of me.”
Amelia touched his hand as she smiled her goodbye, and the tavern owner clapped him on the back. John left, feeling a mixture of relief and excitement in his pounding, anxious heart.
CHAPTER 23
Illicit Inheritance: The Complete Collection (Taboo Erotica) Page 16