Fatal Facade

by Wendy Tyson

  The afternoon of day four, Allison and Elle were finishing up a session when there was a strong knock at the door.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Allison asked.

  Elle shook her head. She’d been better since the incident a few days earlier, working her way through books and catalogs and helping Allison design her new look for her grand re-entrance into the American scene. Today she was skyping with Allison’s nutritionist about adopting a vegetarian diet, something Elle felt compelled to do. She’d just ended the conversation when the visitor arrived.

  “Come in,” Elle said.

  Allison instantly recognized the man standing in the double doorway as Sam Norton. He was shorter than Allison had expected, with a prominent chin and thick graying hair. He wore horn-rimmed glasses, Bermuda shorts, and a red Ralph Lauren Polo shirt, and around his neck was a thick strand of leather with something gold dangling from its center. He wasn’t handsome exactly, but he had the kind of distinguished air that some older men acquired. He smiled at his daughter, then at Allison.

  “I see you’re busy.”

  “What do you need, Daddy?”

  “I’m just looking for Michael.”

  Elle looked confused. “Michael left this morning. For California.”

  It was Sam’s turn to look startled. “I thought he was going tomorrow.”

  Elle shrugged. She met her father at the entranceway, took his hand, and led him gently out into the hallway, closing the doors behind her. She was back five minutes later.

  “I’m afraid Daddy isn’t himself these days.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  Elle was silent for a moment. She tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and then started to chew on her thumbnail. Thinking better of it—stopping that habit was goal number nine—she sat on her hand instead.

  “My father has a condition. We’ve known about it for some time, but we still don’t quite understand what sets it off. The doctor thinks it’s a type of dementia.” She took a deep breath and stared at her lap. “Sometimes he’s perfectly fine. Other times, like now, he’s confused. He gets belligerent with the staff. We’ve had to move Hilda into a room in the lower south wing because he can be so awful to her.”

  “Who cares for him then?”

  Elle shrugged. “Sometimes it’s Hilda. Usually it’s Dominic or Michael.” She frowned. “Or Karina.”

  Allison recalled the conversation with Karina what felt like weeks ago. The personal assistant had hinted at tension between her and her employer. Yet she was still here.

  “You have a lot of people who seem to remain at the castle for long stretches.”

  “You mean Jeremy and Lara? They’re here about the movie. Jeremy says he thinks better in the Dolomites. I know Daddy is hoping he’ll cast me in Baton Rouge.”

  “How about Mazy and the Aldens?”

  “What about them?” She smiled. “You mean why are they here?” When Allison nodded, she shrugged again. “Mazy is a control freak who wants a say in every aspect of the movie. She’s afraid if she leaves Jeremy will make some monumental decision without her.”

  “And you let her stay.”

  “I don’t let anyone do anything. She’s Daddy’s friend from way back” A mischievous glint shone in Elle’s eyes. “They were lovers.”

  A point Mazy had failed to mention. Allison tried to picture the writer and the rock star together and couldn’t. “And the Aldens?”

  Elle waved her free hand. “Shirin likes to feel important and Douglas enjoys screwing Lara.”

  Allison nearly choked. Her face turned red.

  “Oh, I know about those two, Allison. Don’t look so shocked. Everyone knows, except maybe Jeremy and Shirin.” She shook her head. “Who do you think showed them their love nest in the woods? Not purposefully, of course. He was leading a hike.” When Allison looked confused, Elle said, “Damien. Even he knew.”

  “Surely the Aldens have some other reason for being here.”

  Elle looked suddenly guarded. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Douglas must have a pretense for being here. He can’t simply tell his wife he wants to hang out at the castle and then go off and bang his girlfriend.”

  “I don’t know what he tells Shirin,” Elle said after a moment. “But the board of the foundation meets regularly and Douglas always comes. He chooses grantees, though Damien and he rarely saw eye to eye on the recipients.”

  “Why?”

  “Damien said Douglas’s criteria were often arbitrary. Or he was too focused on space exploration—one of Douglas’s pet hobbies. Aside from screwing another man’s wife.”

  “You don’t like Douglas Alden.”

  “I guess he’s a necessary evil. Like root canals. Or acts of war.”

  As luck would have it, Allison ran into Shirin and Douglas later that afternoon on the trail by the north side of the castle. Allison and Grace were taking a walk before the afternoon storms set in, and Grace was practicing her German by counting the sheep they saw along the way.

  “That’s quite good,” Allison said to her niece after they passed sheep number dreizhen. Grace looked up at her, round eyes wide and pleased. For a moment, Allison recalled the little girl who had come to live with her months before. A little girl who woke up with night terrors and often wet the bed. A little girl who asked every day when her mother was taking her to the shelter. Allison knelt down to hug her niece, and when she stood back up Shirin and Douglas were heading toward them.

  Shirin wore tiny black shorts and a tight black and brown printed tank. A gold belt cinched her waist. She’d slung a black leather bag over one shoulder, and she carried a large straw beach bag on the other. Douglas had a thick blue and white climbing rope coiled around one of his shoulders, and a chalk bag and climbing shoes dangled from a harness around his waist. He looked like he was ready to go mountaineering; his wife looked ready to attend a fashion show.

  Allison acknowledged them, but she tried to keep walking.

  Shirin stopped her. “We haven’t seen you at dinner.”

  “Grace goes to bed early, so we haven’t been able to make late meals.”

  Douglas, Allison noticed, focused his attention on Grace, the nearby sheep, the clouds gathering over the horizon. Anywhere but on Allison’s face. Allison felt herself getting angry. She didn’t particularly care for Shirin, but no woman—no person—deserved to be betrayed that way.

  “Going for a jaunt in the woods?” Allison asked Douglas.

  It was Shirin who answered. “Not me. Douglas was just out climbing. He loves the mountains.” She looked at her husband. “Right, darling?”

  Douglas shifted his feet, picked at a thread on his nylon shirt. “Yes, yes, of course.”

  “I made use of the pool.” Shirin lifted the beach bag from which a bottle of sunscreen and a novel protruded. “While Douglas played in the woods.” She nudged her husband’s foot with her toe.

  “Good the weather held out,” Allison said, quickly shifting her gaze.

  “Indeed.” Shirin elbowed her husband. “Bollocks, Douglas, you are being quite a bore today. No wonder Allison hasn’t joined us for dinner. Do show her you’re more of a conversationalist than this.”

  Douglas managed a wan smile. “I’m afraid I’m a bit tired. From the climbing.”

  Allison yawned. “I’m a bit tired myself, and this one—” she raised Grace’s hand “—really wants a walk to see the goats before dinner.”

  Shirin asked, “Will we see you tonight then? It would be nice for you to get out. I’m sure the nurse can watch the girl.”

  Allison bristled at the use of “girl.” “Her name is Grace, and she is my niece. But yes, if we get back in time, I’ll be there.”

  The truth was, she would be at dinner that night. She’d promised Elle she’d go, and Hilda
had promised Grace a girls’ night of movies, hamburgers, and American-style popcorn, which the castle chef was preparing. But Allison didn’t feel like admitting it to the Aldens. She’d rather watch movies with Grace than party with the grown-ups, but as a paid consultant, she needed to appease her client on occasion.

  Douglas started back up the path toward their cottage without saying goodbye. Shirin lingered for another moment. She seemed about to say something else, but followed in her husband’s direction without another word.

  Jason called while Allison was getting ready for dinner. She’d just zipped up her littlest black dress when the phone rang.

  “Miss me yet?”

  “Mmm,” she said. “Tons.”

  “Any traction with Elle?”

  “I guess.” Allison sat on the bed to strap on her sandals. They were new and red and Jimmy Choo, and she’d been waiting for a chance to show them off. “Can’t decide if this is Act Two or the real deal.”

  “Does it matter?”

  Allison paused. “I’d like to think it does.”

  They chit-chatted a moment about Grace and the outings she and Allison had been on. “Any progress on the wedding?”

  “Not really. Between Elle, my book, and Grace, I haven’t done much. Elle offered to have the reception here—”

  “No.”

  Allison laughed. “I figured you’d say that. I told her no. We have the restaurant reserved anyway.”

  “That’s partly why I called. My mom is delayed. She will be a few days later than anticipated.”

  “Oh,” Allison managed. She’d been counting on Mia’s help with Grace and to organize the wedding, as simple as it would be. Plus, she’d love her thoughts on Damien’s death—and the crazy family that surrounded her.

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “Of course.” She finished buckling her sandal and stood to find her jewelry. “Besides, what choice to do I have. What’s the holdup?”

  “She didn’t say. I’m assuming it’s the farm.” Mia had moved to a small bungalow in the countryside outside Philadelphia after the tragic death of her daughter years ago. Since then, the sophisticated image consultant had become a nature buff. She grew vegetables, raised chickens, and adopted dogs…none of which she’d shown the least bit of interest in before her life fell apart. But the lifestyle suited her, even if it made leaving harder. So many things to tie her down.

  “Without Vaughn,” Jason said, “everything’s a little tougher for my mother.”

  “For them both,” Allison answered, thinking of Vaughn’s chronically depressed tone. Vaughn and Mia had been seeing each other for years, much of that time in secret. Their July-October relationship ended last fall. Neither had been the same since.

  “How are things going there?” Allison asked. “Meet the CEO, Lara’s uncle?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. He looks nothing like his niece.” They both laughed. “It’s fine. A lot to learn. And while corporate life has its perks, I’d forgotten how different it is from the public sector.”

  “Are you regretting your decision?”

  Jason was silent for a long minute. “I wanted flexibility with my job. For when…in case…if, you know.”

  If we have a child. Allison did know. She felt that familiar stab of longing and regret.

  “This will be more work,” Jason continued. “But I think the change is good.”

  More work. More time away from home. We’re still a family, Allison wanted to say. Even without a baby, we still need you. I still need you. Grace needs you. But she knew her fiancé was trying to deal with the fact that his body had failed him, and without the prospect of progeny, he was looking for new ways to define himself. She wished he felt differently, but pushing him would get them nowhere.

  So instead of saying any of the things she was feeling, she said, “You’ll be incredible.”

  She hoped her reticence to intervene wouldn’t come back to bite them both later.

  THIRTEEN

  “I don’t see why we need to go veg just because Elle has gone veg.”

  Mazy stabbed a piece of zucchini with the tines of her fork, glared at it, and dropped the utensil and the vegetable back on her white china plate. “Zucchini squash crepes? Why ruin a perfectly good dish with a vegetable that grows like a weed?”

  “I rather like courgettes,” Shirin said. “I grow tired of all the heavy South Tyrolean food.” She looked at Douglas, who was seated to her right. “Don’t you agree, darling?”

  “I’m with the writer. I prefer meat.”

  Mazy continued to stare sullenly at the food on her plate. They were seated at the long dining table in the interior dining room. Like most of the castle, it had marble floors and high, arched ceilings. Frescoes had been replaced by intricate scroll work, and paintings of Austrian nobility graced the walls. The party around the table had dwindled since the previous week. Sam’s attorney was not dining with them that evening, and Michael was gone. The Aldens, Mazy Coyne, Lara, Jeremy, and Elle sat around the middle of the table. Karina was there at the outset of dinner, but by the middle of the first course, she had disappeared—presumably to tend to Sam.

  “My father’s not feeling well again,” Elle said, addressing a question no one had asked. “He’ll be dining in his rooms.”

  Jeremy frowned. “Again.”

  Elle shot him a pained look.

  “What the hell are these doctors doing for him?” Jeremy asked.

  “They’re trying. But he doesn’t always cooperate. You know, Jeremy. Some days are worse than others.”

  “This goddamn country. He needs to go back to the States.”

  “He won’t listen—”

  Jeremy stood abruptly and walked to the door.

  Elle watched him go. She glanced at Allison, sighed, and rose to follow the director.

  By ten o’clock, dinner had been finished and the remaining guests gathered in the parlor for drinks. Neither Elle nor Jeremy had returned, leaving those left—Mazy, Shirin, Douglas, Lara, and Allison—to chat about nonsense for the next hour. Once the drinks started flowing, conversation followed. Allison, caught by the bar by a tipsy Mazy, listened while the author droned on and on about the plot of her next novel. By midnight, Allison was feeling sleepy. She was waiting for Mazy to take a breath so she could politely excuse herself when there was a sudden crash and the sound of glass shattering.

  Allison looked up just as Mazy did the same.

  “Oh,” Mazy exclaimed. She slapped her hand across her mouth.

  Shirin had dropped her wine glass. More precisely, she’d squeezed the glass until it shattered. Blood ran down her hand and dripped from her fingers, mingling with the deep red wine now pooling on the marble floors. Shirin stared at her hand, then at the floor, before fixing her stare to her husband.

  “That will stain,” Mazy murmured. “Marble stains.”

  Allison grabbed napkins from the bar and began her way over to Shirin. Before she could help the other woman, Douglas reached his wife.

  “Shirin, stop.” His tone was threatening. He held her wrist. “Stop.”

  “That’s the scent, Douglas. That’s the fucking scent.”

  “Not here.”

  “That’s the scent.”

  Shirin was staring at Lara who, until a few moments ago, had been sitting next to her on an ivory settee.

  Shirin put a hand to her mouth. Blood trailed down her arm, painting abstract flower patterns on the sheer white toile of her dress. “Bastard.”

  Douglas shook her other arm. Allison could see white indentations where his fingers had found soft flesh. She thought of the bruises on Shirin’s wrists. The plum-colored circles on Elle.

  “Let her go,” Allison said.

  The sound of Allison’s voice seemed to be a call to action. Douglas dropped his wife’s a
rm. Lara, who had been silent until that moment, groaned. Mazy started wiping wine from the mottled marble floor.

  Shirin dashed toward the entrance to the parlor. She slowed when she passed Lara. “You see, I don’t wear Chanel. Ever.” Her voice was suddenly calm and steady. “You can have him.”

  She left, her last steps a run.

  No one spoke for a millennium. Finally, Mazy looked at Douglas and said, “She finally figured you two out? Took long enough.” She threw the wine-soiled napkins on the bar. “May want to ask your girlfriend not to wear perfume in the future. Women always know.”

  With a backward glance at Allison, Mazy left.

  Allison felt some responsibility to tell Elle what had happened. But where was she?

  “Please don’t say anything to Jeremy,” Lara said to Allison. It was the first she had spoken to her since the incident in the forest. “Things are complicated between us. It’s not what it seems.”

  Douglas gave her a derisive snort. “Denial much?”

  “You should talk. Aren’t you at least going to go after your wife? She left bleeding and angry.”

  Allison’s attention ping-ponged between the two lovers as their argument went on and on. She didn’t care about them. She couldn’t say she was fond of Shirin, either. But she didn’t like to see anyone get hurt.

  Allison’s eye caught movement. She looked up quickly to see someone retreating from the arched doorways. A chill ran through her. Who had been watching?

  She pulled her cell phone from her purse and called Elle. When she didn’t answer, she tried Dominic and Karina. Right to voicemail. She sent her client a detailed text and left. Tomorrow would come too soon. And with it, she was sure, more drama.