Fatal Facade

by Wendy Tyson

  Disappointed, Allison headed back toward the entrance. As she passed Vaughn, who was nosing through the closet, she stopped short.

  He said, “What’s wrong? You look concerned.”

  “I assumed this was Hilda’s room. But I’ve never seen Hilda wear a dirndl.” And this closet was filled with traditional Austrian garb.

  “So maybe it’s Karina’s.”

  “Maybe.” But the book Hilda had been carrying bothered her. She’d seemed protective of it at the time, as though it was special to her. Allison walked over to it. She took a snapshot so she’d remember its exact position. Then she picked it up and paged through it. There were notes here and there, but everything was in German. She placed it back on the chair.

  “Maybe Hilda lent it to Karina,” Allison said to herself.

  “Huh?” Vaughn stepped out of the closet and closed the door.

  Before Allison could answer, Vaughn’s phone beeped. He glanced at it.

  “Jamie. Says the medications are normal for dementia patients. Also said he sent the reports on Hilda and Karina through again.” He looked around, hands on hips. “Want to keep going?”

  “Sure, although we should hurry before Elle gets suspicious.” Or before someone finds us down here.

  The next set of rooms were empty. The set at the back of the hall housed only a single bedroom with an en suite bath. This room had more character. Women’s fashion magazines had been spread around the desk and on the dresser. Works of fiction in German, Italian, and English lined a single bookshelf. Other than a stethoscope hanging from a hook near the door, there was no sign that a nurse lived here.

  “Anything seem odd to you?” Vaughn asked.

  Allison stared at a picture on the bedside table. It depicted an older couple. They wore similar gray fisherman’s sweaters and jeans and were leaning on bicycles. Neither smiled.

  “The woman looks like Hilda,” Allison said. “She has her eyes.”

  Outside, lightning flashed. The sky tore open and rain pelted the windows, running in rivulets down the long, narrow panes. The lights flickered twice, then they remained off.

  “Damn,” Vaughn muttered. He fumbled with his phone until he found the flashlight application. He flicked it on. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Allison used her own flashlight to make sure everything was as it had been. She wouldn’t have envisioned Hilda with fashion magazines. But then, she wouldn’t have envisioned herself here at all.

  Back in Elle’s rooms, Allison used her phone to check in on Mia and Grace. They were in their room in Bidero and doing fine. Then she tried to reach Jason. He didn’t answer his phone. She hung up, frustrated. She sent him a text to say there’d been more trouble at the castle and could he call her later.

  Elle had finished going through the rejected applications. “Look,” she said. “I don’t know what you thought you’d find, but there’s nothing here. At least nothing that means anything to me.”

  Allison repeated what Jeremy told her the original letter had said. “Worst of the wealthy. Ruin lives. That sounds like someone who felt wronged by the foundation, Elle. None of those names ring a bell?”

  She shook her head. “Not one.” She climbed out of her chair and picked up the battery-operated lantern that had been illuminating her room. “I need to check on my father. I don’t like the way he was when he left.”

  Allison agreed. “We saw him go back into his rooms.”

  Elle looked like she wanted to ask where they’d gone, but instead she pulled a sweater out of her bag. “Can you go greet the others? Karina called to say they’re all in the grand ballroom. Chef is making some cold food to put out. Karina is trying to find Dominic, so he can get the generator running. It’s supposed to go on automatically.”

  “Where’s Hilda?”

  “With my dad, I guess.”

  “Vaughn,” Allison said. “Why don’t you go let the others know Elle will be down soon? I’ll go with Elle.”

  He nodded. “I want to see if Jamie’s reports came through anyway.”

  Allison checked the battery on her phone. Almost fully charged. “Text me when you hear something,” she said.

  Allison watched Vaughn disappear into the dark hall. Then she joined Elle, and they trekked down the hall toward her father’s rooms.

  Sam’s rooms were empty.

  “Dad?” Elle called out. “Hilda?”

  The darkness in Sam’s rooms felt suffocating. So did the stench. It was like urine and vomit and lavender all rolled into one nauseating mix.

  “What the hell,” Elle said. “Hilda!”

  A thorough search of the rooms turned up nothing. “I think we should find Balzan’s men,” Allison said.

  “You think something happened to my father?”

  Thinking of Jeremy’s warning, of Sam’s agitation earlier, Allison gripped her phone harder. She wished she had something more substantial than that little device and a Swiss Army Knife.

  “Do you want to risk it?” Allison asked. “We should alert the police.”

  Elle called Hilda. There was no answer. “I’m worried. Do you really think Hilda could hurt my father?”

  Allison thought of the drugs, of Sam’s ominous words. She thought of people with access and opportunity. She thought of motive—and that’s where she came up short. “I just don’t know.”

  Elle looked around again. Even in the dark shadows, Allison could make out her face. She looked scared. No. She looked terrified.

  THIRTY-THREE

  The thunder and lightning wouldn’t let up. Allison glanced outside. She saw something glowing in the distance, something red and orange that flickered in the trees.

  “Forest fire,” Allison said. To Elle, she said, “I don’t know who you call for forest fires around here, but we’d better find out.”

  Elle looked outside. Her jaw tensed. “Do you think it was set purposefully?”

  The fire was high up, past the church ruins, near the closest ridge. “Up there? No. Lighting would be my guess.”

  They watched the flames for a moment before Elle said, “I can’t reach Balzan or Dominic. I hate to ask you, but can you help me scour the castle? In case he’s somewhere inside.”

  “Yes, but can we find some decent flashlights?”

  “In Dominic’s workshop. By the kitchen.”

  Allison followed her host downstairs, past the grand ballroom where the guests were gathered, and into Dominic’s spacious workspace at the back of the castle. Elle started opening and closing cabinets. Finally she found a flashlight, which she handed to Allison.

  “Take some extra batteries too. And a flashlight for Vaughn.”

  “Do you know how to start the generator?”

  “No. Dominic will.” Elle shot off a text. “I’m almost out of battery.” She glanced at Allison. “Let’s go. We can split up—”

  “No way. We stay together.”

  Elle nodded. “Fine. Inside first.”

  Elle wanted to look outside? Allison listened as the storm droned on. She wasn’t so sure that was a good idea.

  “I need to tell Vaughn,” Allison said. “He can help us.”

  Elle agreed. “He’s on the way anyhow.”

  Only Vaughn wasn’t in the ballroom. A sad group surrounded a sad buffet table: a very sodden Jeremy, a sulking Lara, and a pensive Mazy. No Vaughn. And no Douglas.

  “We don’t have time to look for your friend too,” Elle said. “Please. Text him and let’s find Hilda and my father. Then I promise we can find Vaughn and talk some more. I just need to find my father. I feel like I’ve failed him.”

  Allison nodded. She felt like they’d all failed him. The longer he was missing, the more suspicious his disappearance became. Allison headed back toward the bowels of the castle with Elle. If Sam Norton was here, his daughter was deter
mined to find him. While they walked, Allison tried the number she had for Balzan. The inspector didn’t answer—not that she could speak to him even if he had. Where were his men?

  With its vast rooms, stone floors, and secret alcoves, the castle was eerie at night. It felt especially sinister in a blackout during a storm with a murderer running loose.

  “Do we have something we can use as a weapon?” Allison asked.

  “The flashlights.”

  One was plastic and cheap, the other metal and heavy. She supposed the metal one would do in a pinch. They walked along the spine of the castle, shining their lights into each room. No Hilda or Sam. No Karina or Dominic. And no Douglas.

  In the north wing, holed up in his rooms, they found Vaughn.

  He jumped when they entered. “What are you two doing here?”

  Allison explained while Elle stood impatiently, shifting from one foot to another. “All that’s left is the basement rooms.”

  “The dungeon,” Elle said. “We call it the dungeon.”

  Vaughn and Allison exchanged a look. “Great. I suppose you want me to accompany you into the dungeon?”

  “No,” Allison said, as Elle exclaimed, “Would be nice.”

  “I’ll go. Just let me finish up here.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Internet’s out. I’m using my phone as a hot spot so I can get the reports Jamie’s sending.” He tapped on his keyboard, then opened a file. “Here we go. Take a look.”

  Before him were three pictures. One was a much younger Hilda in a graduation gown. The second was of a school girl standing in front of a flag pole, the Austrian flag waving against a blue sky behind her. The third was Allison.

  “Why am I there?”

  “As a control.” Vaughn squinted at the screen. “Hilda’s image matches a woman named Hilda Pachul.” He glanced at Elle. “Is that the same name your Hilda provided?”

  Elle nodded. “I don’t see the purpose of this. We’re wasting time.”

  Vaughn held up a hand. “And I think we can all agree that the graduation picture is of your nurse?”

  Both Elle and Allison stared at the picture. There was no denying Hilda’s red hair and crooked smile. They said “yes” in unison.

  “And this one. Does it look like your assistant, Elle?”

  Elle crouched low. She shined the lantern on the computer screen. “A much younger version of Karina, but yes.”

  “How about this one?”

  This one was more clearly Karina. The woman in the picture wore a long, plain black dress and a wide-brimmed hat. Her eyes were shadowed by the short veil attached to the brim of her hat, but her face, contorted in pain though it was, was visible.

  “Yes, yes, that’s Karina. Can we please go?”

  “Just a few more minutes. Please. How about this one?”

  The final photo was of an older Karina. Her eyes looked darker, haunted, but she had the fresh-scrubbed good looks of a natural athlete. Her hair was plaited and twisted around her skull. She wore a dirndl. One arm looped through the elbow of a dark-haired man.

  Elle gasped. The man was Elle’s half-brother, Michael.

  Vaughn read something on the screen. “Karina came up as—” he got closer to the screen

  “—Allison, let me borrow your readers.”

  Allison handed him her glasses.

  “That’s what I thought it said. Look here. Jamie pulled two names for her. Nina Kalter and Johanna Varendorff.” He fixed his stare on Elle. “Do either of those names ring a bell?”

  Elle shook her head. “Karina is her name. That’s the only one I was ever told. Michael did recommend her, so it makes sense that he may have known her.”

  “Well, he would have known her as Nina, because that was the name associated with the picture that included both of them. In the other two images, she was identified as Johanna Varendoff.”

  “I don’t get it.” Elle looked at Allison, questions in her eyes. “What is he saying?”

  Allison said, “We couldn’t find any real virtual presence for Karina, which is why Vaughn’s brother used new facial recognition software by uploading a photograph Vaughn took while here. The software scans the internet, looking for a facial match. Jamie used the matches to associate the pictures with names. This is what came up.” Something clicked in Allison brain. “Can you say that name again? The Johanna one?”

  “Johanna Varendoff.”

  “I know that last name from somewhere. Yes, that book.” Allison opened her phone and retrieved the picture she’d taken of the book she’d seen clutched to Hilda’s chest. The one on Karina’s bedroom chair. “Here, look.”

  The title was in German. The author’s name was Frederick Varendoff.

  “Who is Frederick Varendoff?”

  “I have no idea.” Allison did a quick Google search. As she absorbed what she was reading, she sat down on Vaughn’s chair, hard. “Listen to this. Frederick was a promising astrophysicist from Austria. He died in 2012. A single gunshot to the head.” She looked up. “Self-inflicted.”

  “It says here that he had a theory about space and extraterrestrial life. He was convinced he had a method for determining if there was life in other galaxies. He received a sizable grant to research the concept. It became his life’s work.” Allison looked at Vaughn. “It never panned out.”

  Elle read over her shoulder. “He was survived by his mother, Sophie, and his daughter, Johanna.” Elle grabbed Allison’s shoulder. She squeezed. “This means—”

  “That Karina is likely Johanna Varendoff, daughter of Frederick Varendoff.” Vaughn finished Elle’s sentence. “Doesn’t explain why she changed her name. Or how she got here.”

  Allison said, “Actually, I think it does.” She pulled the computer toward her. There wasn’t much battery left. They’d have to hurry. “Vaughn, do you have the public records? The ones that show which applicants actually received grants?”

  “I do. Let’s see if we can get it to download.”

  While they waited for the download to finish, Allison explained. “Frederick Varendoff received a grant to complete his research. What if that grant was from Pay It Forward? What if their money enabled his dream?”

  “You think Daddy’s foundation gave her father money to chase ET?”

  “You said yourself that each board member could choose the projects they wanted to fund. And Mazy told me that Douglas’s father loved space research, especially extraterrestrials. What if Douglas approved the grant?”

  Douglas who was now missing.

  “Got it.” Vaughn did a word search of the name Varendoff. He found it on his first try. “Wow. Two hundred thousand in 2006. Another four hundred thousand dollars in 2008.”

  “Over half a million dollars. Enough to allow a scientist to pursue a passion—even at the risk of losing his credibility, his family, his life” Allison stood. “The foundation gave Karina’s father money. They enabled his addiction to the search for extraterrestrial life. An addiction that ultimately resulted in his suicide. I think we found our motive.”

  “But what about Michael?” Elle asked. “How did he fit in?”

  Vaughn said, “The picture Jamie found was from 2014, the year Michael was appointed to the board. The year Karina was hired. If I had to guess, I’d say she sought him out, made a proposal. She’d help him get access to the family fortune that he deserved, but he needed to get her in the door.”

  Allison nodded. “Only he got cold feet. Didn’t want to kill people. Or maybe he suddenly got a conscience. Or maybe he was just a loose end. So she killed him.”

  “With one bullet to the brain.” Elle grabbed her hair, pulled. “That’s what Balzan told me. Michael was murdered with one bullet to the brain. Just like Frederick.”

  A round of thunder broke through the ensuing silence.

 
“Hilda,” Elle said. “We need to find her. She must be in on it too.”

  As they left Vaughn’s rooms, Allison paused. “When you took that pill on Wednesday, did Hilda give it to you directly?”

  Elle stood there, thinking. “Come to think of it, she put it down. Placed it on a table for me.”

  “So Karina could have replaced it?”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “Is it possible Karina could have been replacing other meds? Like your father’s? Maybe substituting his normal medications for something that would cause delusional behavior—on occasion?”

  “I guess it’s possible. But wouldn’t Hilda figure that out?”

  Yes, Allison thought. She would. And then she’d also be a problem. “Let’s go,” Allison said. “We’d better find them.”

  Elle moaned. “I’m afraid it’s too late.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  They decided to involve the others in the search. They had no choice. Balzan’s police had not surfaced, and nor had Dominic. If their theory was right, Karina was making a last stand—going after Sam and Douglas and tying up any more loose ends. She was counting on a clean escape. Karina had no real presence, after all. And no one knew her as Johanna—or so she thought.

  Mazy took some convincing. Jeremy did too. He spent the whole time Allison was talking staring at Elle, both judge and jury when it came to Sam’s daughter. It wasn’t until Vaughn showed him the pictures and pointed out that Karina had been in Elle’s apartment earlier that day, doing Elle’s hair, that Jeremy acquiesced.

  “Can you three look in the cottages?” Vaughn asked. “We’ll take the basement and Dominic’s woodsheds.” He didn’t mention the forest. No one wanted to go there, not at night. And not during a storm. “And there’s a forest fire. Let’s keep trying to get through to the authorities.”

  Elle, Vaughn, and Allison started in the basement. The rooms underground did feel like dungeons, with dank stone corridors and cobwebs thick enough to be used as blankets. They walked hand-in-hand, their flashlights casting weak pools of light—no match for the shadows.