by Lauren Berg
“I’m sorry, who did you say the invitation was from?” Amy asked. Did Amy’s voice sound stilted and forced? Laura couldn’t be sure.
“I don’t know. There was no note. Just the invitation. It seemed as if I should come. Edith von Farron is—was—very important to me.” The woman’s voice faded, and a look of unmistakable sadness crossed her face.
“Then you should absolutely be here,” Amy said. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”
The woman’s red lips curved into a perfect smile. “I would. My name is Monica Adams, but I was born Monique von Farron.” There was a collective gasp from the assembled crowd. If the situation had been different, Laura would have laughed, but as it was, she was confused, and the press of the crowd did not help to clear her head.
“I’m sorry, but did you say von Farron?” Amy asked. Laura was sure that there was something Amy wasn’t telling her.
Her question was lost in the furious roar of Benjamin, though, as the man pressed his way forward. Amy and Monica looked alarmed, but Laura could see they didn’t know just how dangerous he was. She stepped toward them, but Cain caught her arm.
“You can’t be a von Farron,” Benjamin yelled.
“I assure you, I—“
“Shut up! Shut up!” Benjamin screamed. “I need to think. None of this is going how I need it to.”
The crowd quieted as he began to pace in front of them. A few guests started to make their way to the door in a move to leave, but Benjamin beat them there. “No one leaves!” His yell was punctuated by the gun that he pulled from the waistband of his pants.
Laura felt the cramping of fear in her stomach. She knew that he was crazy enough to hurt someone if he thought it was necessary. His involvement with the people he owed money to—Cain had suggested it was some sort of Asian mafia connection—made him desperate. She still wasn’t sure what his plan was, but from what she’d ascertained so far, she knew that he’d been hoping to get part or all of Edith’s inheritance. She knew that his debts had to be astronomical, and this was the only way out that he could think of.
Benjamin pointed the gun at the high ceiling, and fired a round. The gunshot reverberated around the room, deafening the crowd, who all crouched towards the floor in a grotesque ballet. As everyone jockeyed for safer positions, Benjamin continued to wave the gun around over his head. He swung around to face Monica.
“Do you have any idea how hard I have worked for what I have coming to me?” He was yelling, but there was also a pulsing sound of grief lacing its way through his words. “Edith might have been your aunt or whatever, but I’m her husband. Her husband! It’s just like some long lost relative to show up just before the cash is disbursed.”
He began to pace again, and Laura watched as Monica stepped forward slowly. She reached out to touch his arm, and he startled at the motion, pointing the gun directly at the woman. Even as his finger reached for the trigger, she remained the picture of calm.
“Edith isn’t my aunt.” There was a pause while Monica seemed to wait for Benjamin to look at her. “She is my mother.”
Despite the danger Benjamin threatened, another gasp went through the crowd. People stopped stooping long enough to stare at the woman. Benjamin howled, and pointed the gun at the ceiling again. He fired three more rounds, and then pointed the gun at Monica. “This isn’t over,” he yelled as he took off through the double doors of the ballroom.
Cain pressed his phone into Laura’s hands. “Call nine-one-one,” he said.
Before she had a chance to respond, Cain took off after Benjamin. She felt her chest tighten as she watched the doors close behind him. Chaos reigned. Amy had her arm around Monica, and Nathan had come up to the woman. Lawrence hung in the background, but seemed interested in his cousin. From the corner of her eye, Laura could see that Vincent Ferrimo was wringing his hands, and going from guest to guest.
Something about the situation made Laura think she was close to the end of the mystery. It all felt so set up. She glanced over at Amy. For the first time in a long time she narrowed her eyes at her best friend, and wondered what the other woman was hiding. First there had been the affair with Benjamin, and now this party … well, she didn’t have time to dwell on that.
She punched in the emergency number, and waited until the woman on the other end asked her what her emergency was.
“Shots have been fired at the Seaside Inn. No one’s hurt,” Laura said, “but the perpetrator took off running. He still has the gun on him.”
“Can you provide me with a description of the man, ma’am?” The woman almost sounded bored, which annoyed Laura.
In a tight voice, she replied, “His name is Benjamin Whitaker. He’s Edith von Farron’s husband. There has to be a picture of him that you can access.”
“Ma’am, please just provide me with a description. This will go a lot faster if you just cooperate. I don’t have time to sift through celebrity gossip sites, now, a description?”
Laura sighed. “Tall, skinny, dark hair. He looks like he’s about eighteen but he’s in his thirties.” She paused as she tried to remember her encounter with him earlier. What had he been wearing? “Oh, and he’s wearing beachy clothes. He had on Hawaiian looking board shorts and a loose green button down.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” the woman said. “We’ll be sending officers now.”
Laura hung up, and went to find Amy. Her best friend had let her hair down, and the red curls cascaded over her shoulders. She looked fatigued.
“I should never have invited Benjamin,” Amy said as Laura gave her a one armed hug.
“You were just trying to help me,” Laura replied. “You can’t help it if he’s crazy.”
“I know, but I just feel so bad.”
Laura hugged her friend again, and said, “So what’s the deal with Monica? Who invited her?”
“I don’t know,” Amy admitted. “It’s bothering me, honestly. I almost think it was Benjamin.”
“But he freaked out on her,” Laura said. She could feel the tightness in her chest increasing as she watched the corner of Amy’s mouth twitch. That was the sign that she was lying. It was her tell. “I don’t think he knew anything about her.”
“I don’t know,” Amy said again. “I want to hear her story, you know? Do you think she could be faking it?”
“Why don’t we ask her?” Laura pulled her friend toward the other woman. “Hi, Monica. I don’t mean to be rude or anything. My name is Laura Seymour. I’m a reporter with the LA Chronicle. Would you mind talking to me for a story I’m doing about your mother?”
“Sure,” Monica said. “I’d be happy to, though I don’t really know what I can tell you.”
“Why don’t we sit down?”
Amy trailed after them as Laura led the way to the table. She knew, in the way she always knew, that bite of instinct following a hunch, that this woman was the key to cracking the case. The addition of this information to the story would elevate the piece, making Jerry happy, and giving her the edge she needed to advance her career. Something told her, though, that the outcome of the woman’s tale wouldn’t be what one would expect.
Once they were seated, Laura pulled out Cain’s phone. She didn’t have her new one on her, and she had to trust that he’d let her have exclusivity over the information she obtained in this interview.
“I don’t know where to start,” Monica said, splaying her fingers as she shrugged.
“The beginning. Tell me about your birth,” Laura said.
“My mother, Edith, had me later in her life, and I guess she just didn’t want me or she gave me up because she didn’t have the time. It still bothers me, if I’m being honest. I always thought that I’d have the opportunity to ask her these questions, and now that she’s gone, I don’t. I’ve always thought, well, since I found out who she was, that she should have kept me even if she’d have had to go it alone. I know the times were different then, but I’m her daughter.” Monica sighed, and looked at her man
icured nails. Laura followed her gaze, and saw that the letters “EVF” monogrammed onto each thumb. It was that small detail that convinced her she was right about her theory.
“Go on,” Laura said.
“Well, she gave me up to a private adoption agency called Angel Hearts, and I was adopted by a lovely older couple who had grown children. I had a nice childhood, but when I got into my teens, the pressure of not knowing where I came from was just too much to bear, and I began searching for my birth parents.”
“I’m sure it was much harder back then,” Laura said, “without the internet and access to technology.”
“It was easier than I could have imagined,” Monica said with a small, short laugh. “All I had to do was write to the Angel Hearts’ main office, and they sent me my whole adoption file. Over time, I’ve come to find out that it wasn’t that easy for anyone else, so it makes me think that she wanted me to find out about her.”
“Did you contact her?” Amy asked. Laura glanced at her best friend, and could see the tears gleaming in the other woman’s eyes.
“I tried,” Monica said. “But my efforts were always met with stone walls.”
“That’s strange,” Laura said. “If she made it easy for you to find out about her, why not meet you in person?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering. When I heard this morning that she had passed away, well, let me just say I’m beyond broken up about it. That seems so odd to me, to be grieving a person whom I never even knew. But she’s part of me, whether or not she wanted to be.”
“What if there was someone else keeping her away from you?” Laura suggested.
“I’ve thought of that, but I’ve sent her direct messages before, and have only received monetary support. I found it insulting at first. My parents left me a sizeable inheritance when they died, and I’ve been a lawyer for my entire adult life. I work in the entertainment industry, and honestly I’ve never needed the money. My husband pointed out that that might be the only way she knew how to be close to me. As sad as that is, I stopped fighting the support, and started putting it aside for my children.”
“You have children?” Laura asked.
“A son and a daughter, both of whom are in their twenties. My son has a little boy of his own. I wish she could have met them.”
Amy started blubbering, and Monica offered her a tissue. While her friend cried and chattered about what a sad end to the story it all was, Laura’s mind whirred. She thought back through all the interviews she had done while she was trying to figure out who was responsible for Edith’s disappearance and seeming death, though a body still hadn’t been recovered. The common thing she had been looking for was a motive.
Here was the one person she’d interviewed without a motive, and what was it that made her stand out? Laura thought about it as she thanked Monica. She thought as she followed Amy around the ballroom while her friend talked to the guests, and encouraged them to get back to having a good time. The harder she thought, the surer she was that she was complicating matters unnecessarily.
She glanced across the room at Monica who had stayed behind at the table, and everything clicked into place. “I know who did it!”
Amy turned to her with raised brows. “You do?” The sound of forced doubt in her friend’s voice let Laura know that she was right.
“I do,” Laura said with a confident nod. “I know who is responsible for the disappearance of Edith von Farron.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Who?” Amy asked, her jaw dropping open.
Laura shook her head. “Not yet. I have to go ask Monica a question.”
Amy trailed after her again, and as they approached the other woman’s table, Cain entered the ballroom. Laura stopped briefly, but she could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. This was going to be the story that changed everything. She was going to break the case wide open.
“The police are looking everywhere for him,” Cain said shaking his head. “I couldn’t keep up.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Laura said. “They’ll get him. That’s not important right now.”
She turned back toward Monica’s table, and heard Cain ask, “What’s going on?”
“Oh, you have to see this,” Amy said. “She’s about to crack the case. She loves this part.”
“Lead the way,” Cain said.
When they got back to Monica, the older woman looked up in surprise. Laura knew they’d caught her in a private moment, but the excitement overwhelmed her. “I’m sorry to bother you again,” she said. “You mentioned that there was no signature or name on the invitation to this party, but did you happen to see who delivered it?”
“You know, I did,” Monica replied. “There was a rather rodent-like looking man. He had a pinched face and a thin mustache.”
Laura nodded, and then swiveled to scan the room. “Is that him over there by the bar?”
Monica squinted. “I think so. It certainly looks like the man who delivered the invitation.”
“Vincent?” Cain asked.
“No way,” Amy said. “There is just no way that little weasel had done anything to Edith.”
“I never said he did,” Laura said with a grin.
“What’s going on?” Monica asked. Laura once again heard the stilted, forced easiness of the woman’s tone.
“Laura has a knack for putting together pieces of puzzles that don’t make any sense to normal people like us. She’s about to tell us who is responsible for your mother’s death,” Amy said.
Laura spun back around. “That’s the first misconception. There was no death. Well, that and this woman isn’t Edith’s daughter.”
“But the police—” Amy began.
“The police were in on it, as were other people in this room,” Laura interrupted. “But I’ll get there in a minute. No body has been found because there is no body to find. The police said there was a lot of blood. That was just a red herring. I realized tonight thinking back on my interviews that I heard two different versions of events. Vincent over there told me some bizarre story about ninjas. He said the police told him, but why would the police share details of a case that was ongoing and high profile? They wouldn’t.
“The boat’s captain told a similar story, but not similar enough. Discrepancies happen, and at the time I didn’t even think anything of it. Tonight, though, I got to thinking, why hadn’t the police been back to interview any of us. We all had motives. I could prove that, but the more people I talked to, the more I realized that everyone’s motives didn’t explain why anyone would actually want to hurt a wonderful woman like Edith von Farron. It all came down to money. Money is a powerful motivator, but was it enough for someone to plot murder?” Laura paused, and looked at the small group around her.
“So all of you had motives to harm my mother?” Monica asked, a frown creasing her face.
“Well, yes and no,” Laura replied. “Everyone at this party stood to benefit from her death in some way.”
“I didn’t,” Amy protested.
Laura cut her a sideways look. “You, my dear, have your motives as well. I’ll explain it to you later,” she said.
“I get all that you’re saying,” Cain said, “but what I don’t understand is this, if there wasn’t a murder, why hasn’t the kidnapper asked for a ransom? I mean, we’re talking about Edith von Farron.”
“There was no kidnapping,” Laura said.
“I’m so confused,” Amy said, pressing her fingertips into her temple.
“First of all, cut the crap, Ames. I know what you did for Edith. We’ll get to that in a minute. I also know why you did it, and I get it. I totally do, but I need you to explain why you needed me involved.” Laura tipped her head to one side, and stared at her best friend.
Amy kept her gaze steady, and splayed her fingers as she shrugged somewhat helplessly. “Because you’re Laura Seymour. This is what you do.”
“I’m so confused,” Cain said. “What exactly is going on
here?”
“Come on,” Laura said. “I think I know who can explain more than I can.”
Laura led her entourage across the small dance floor to where Vincent Ferrimo stood in a small huddle with Lawrence and Nathan von Farron. All three men looked up, startled, as the group approached.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Seymour?” Vincent asked.
Laura smiled at the hotel manager. “May I talk to you in private for a moment, Mr. Ferrimo?”
Vincent glanced between the father and son before nodding slowly. “I suppose we could step into my office for a moment.”
“Oh no,” Laura said. “That won’t be necessary. Let’s just go over to that corner for a quick question.”
She almost felt bad for the man as she watched his face pale, and sweat break out on his forehead. As they stepped away from the group, Laura was aware of the murmuring that had started when she stepped away. She had to focus on the matter at hand, because if she was right, then the whole mystery would unravel in a moment.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Seymour?”
“You already asked me that, Vincent, and from the way you’re acting, I have a feeling you know exactly what I want.”
“Answers?” Vincent sighed as Laura nodded. “I didn’t lie to you about anything.”
“I never said you did,” Laura said, “but you were, by your own account, Ms. von Farron’s right hand man. You helped her conquer the business world, and you had ideas to expand. Even if she wasn’t thrilled with the business venture, you were loyal to her to the end.”
“That’s true,” Vincent said. “I’m not sure where you are going with this.”
Laura tuned out the noise of the party behind her, and said, “Ah, but here’s the thing that I realized about you, Vincent. You were the only person I talked to who thought Ms. von Farron was alive. You were convinced that she had been kidnapped when even the police were treating the disappearance as a homicide. Funny, huh?”