“I’m sure you’ve been a blessing to her family, Luciana. You can always be proud, knowing that.”
“Are you going to find her? Are you going to bring her and Freddy back to us? Or do you think they are . . .” She choked on her words, cried softly for a few moments, then managed to say, “. . . like Pilar?”
“No,” Savannah said without even thinking. “Beth and Freddy aren’t like Pilar. They aren’t. We just have to find them.”
“I need to help you,” she said. “Pilar was a sister to me. A little sister. I helped her come to work for Miss Beth. I was helping her become a citizen, like Miss Beth did for me. She was studying so hard, night and day. She wanted so much to be an American.”
Savannah felt tears burning in her own eyes and a newfound determination to catch the callous, coldhearted killer who would rob a beautiful young woman of her life and her dreams.
She reached over and put her arm across Luciana’s shoulders and gave her a hug. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out some clean tissues. She offered them to Luciana, then used a couple herself.
“Let’s talk about Miss Beth. How long have you worked for the Malloys?”
“Only three years for Mr. Ethan. After he and Miss Beth got married. But before I worked twenty-five years for her and her family.”
“But she’s only in her thirties, so . . .”
“Yes, I was her nanny when she was a little girl. Then she grew up and became a lady, I became her family’s maid. Then she married Mr. Irwin, and I went with her to her new house.”
“No wonder you’re close,” Savannah said. “You have a lot of history with Miss Beth. You must know her very well.”
Luciana nodded. “I do.”
“Good. Then tell me this, when she’s upset, especially with a husband, where does she go? What does she do?”
“She goes for walks in the hills.” A dark expression passed over Luciana’s face. “That is where you found Pilar, no? They say you found her in the hills.”
“We did. But not Beth and not Freddy. They weren’t there, so there’s no reason to think the worst.”
Savannah paused, framing her words carefully. “Luciana, please don’t think that I mean any disrespect to your lady, but I have to ask you something.”
“Okay. Ask.”
“Some people seem to think that maybe she’s been seeing her ex-husband, Mr. Irwin. To your knowledge, is that true?”
“Seeing him?” Luciana looked confused.
“Being with him . . . romantically.”
“No!”
The response was so emphatic that Savannah jumped, startled. “How can you be so sure?”
“She would never, never see him. She would never touch him. He is a monster, and she hates him. I hate him.”
Savannah felt a chill run over her. It was a feeling she often got when a case took a distinct turn.
If this gentle, kind, and humble woman hated a man this vehemently, Savannah was sure he richly deserved it.
“Can you tell me, Luciana, why you hate Mr. Irwin so much?”
“He hurt Miss Beth. He hurt her bad, many times. He is a very bad man.”
“How did he hurt her?”
“In every way. He hit her. He said terrible, mean things to her. He took all of her money and spent it on gambling and stupid things. He would . . . see . . . other women, many women.”
“Then it’s a very good thing that she left and divorced him,” Savannah said.
A strange expression crossed Luciana’s face, one of sadness, and yet something else. Maybe pride? Savannah couldn’t be sure.
“She left him because of me,” Luciana said quietly.
Yes, there it is again, Savannah thought. Definitely pride and deep satisfaction.
“Because of you?”
“Yes. He was mad at me. I wouldn’t do things he wanted me to do with him. Bad things. He hit me. Miss Beth saw that my clothes were torn and my face was hurt, and she told him to leave or she would call police. He did. She got a divorce.”
Savannah tried to reconcile this new information with what she had heard from Ethan and Amy. But she couldn’t.
“I know that Mr. Ethan thinks she loves her first husband again,” Luciana said. “But it is not true. I don’t know why he thinks that. I don’t know why they argued about Mr. Irwin. He is not a reason for them to argue.”
“She wouldn’t be the first woman to go back to an abusive husband.”
“No. Not her. And not him. Mr. Ethan is a good man. He has been kind to her.” She hesitated, then added, “Until now.”
“Until now? What’s changed?”
“Now he is the one who is seeing someone else. Someone he loved before.”
“Candace York?”
“Yes. They were going to get married, but he met Miss Beth, and he loved her more. Now he loves Miss York again.”
“How do you know that?”
“Miss Beth told me.”
“Could she have been wrong about that?”
“No. She had a picture of them, seeing each other.”
“Did you look at it yourself?”
“Yes. She showed it to me.”
“Was it an actual photograph, printed on paper or—”
“No, it was on her computer. Someone sent it to her on the computer.”
“Did she say who sent it?”
Luciana shook her head. “She didn’t know. They didn’t use their name when they sent it. They called themselves ‘a concerned friend.’”
“Hm-m-m,” Savannah mused. “Sending a person a picture of their spouse seeing someone else, including their naughty bits . . . Maybe it’s just me, but that doesn’t sound like a particularly ‘friendly’ thing to do. In fact, it sounds to me like something a person would do if they wanted to break up someone’s marriage.”
Luciana nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true. It sounds like something Mr. Irwin would do.”
Chapter 14
Her head spinning with the inconsistencies in the interviews she had just conducted, Savannah left Luciana’s apartment and made her way back to the main house.
As she rounded the corner near the turret tower, she saw a familiar and beloved vehicle sitting on the cobblestone driveway.
An exquisite silver vintage Bentley.
That could only mean one thing. That two of her favorite men in the world were inside the mansion. And not just any men. Two former FBI agents–turned-bodyguards, offering security to the rich and famous.
They were also co-owners of the best restaurant in San Carmelita.
That alone would have endeared them to Savannah’s heart. But at the moment, the idea that they were inside the Malloy mansion, possibly lending their skills to this investigation, lifted Savannah’s rainy-day spirits into the sunlit clouds above.
With renewed energy, Savannah practically sprinted to the door. This time it was Ethan who answered her knock.
“How is Luciana?” he asked.
“Not so good,” Savannah admitted. “She’s grieving for Pilar, and worried sick about Beth and Freddy.”
“Aren’t we all?” Ethan said softly, as he held the door open for her.
“I saw Ryan’s and John’s Bentley out front,” she told him as they walked into the foyer and passed the snarling statue of Nidhogg.
“Yes. They’re in here.” He pointed down the hallway toward the library. The door was ajar. “Your husband told them about Pilar, and they called me. I filled them in on what we have—or don’t have—so far, and they came right over.”
“That’s how they are,” Savannah said. “They’re some of the kindest and most capable men I’ve known.
They stepped into the library, and Savannah felt the stress that was tying her nerves in knots relax a little just at the sight of their faces.
Ryan Stone and his partner, John Gibson, had been two of her dearest friends almost from the moment she had met them, several years back. Ryan was probably the only man she had ever seen who c
ould give Ethan Malloy competition in the “breathtakingly handsome” department. Tall, with dark hair and bright green eyes, he had only to smile and half a dozen women in his immediate vicinity would swoon.
Savannah didn’t mind admitting she was one of them.
So was Tammy.
Even Gran numbered among his swoon-ees.
Part of what made Ryan so gorgeous was the fact that he didn’t seem to know it, and if he did, he didn’t care. Unlike many beautiful people, he didn’t rely on his looks alone to endear him to people. Ryan captured hearts, made friends, and kept them by being one of the most generous and compassionate people she had ever had the pleasure to call “friend.”
Then there was John. Older than Ryan by a few years, he had lush silver hair and a thick mustache to match. His pale blue eyes sparkled with humor and mischief, and his thick British accent was a sheer delight to hear. Savannah could listen to him spin tales for hours.
But today, they were less personable, less effervescent. They were concentrating on business, and the business at hand appeared to be something to do with the house phone.
Surveillance, and the equipment required to do it, was only part of the services they offered when providing security to society’s most highly esteemed heroes and heroines. Many times, Savannah had been grateful that, as part of her Moonlight Magnolia team, they frequently supplied technological equipment and the know-how to use it.
Apparently, without her even asking, they were doing that for the Malloy investigation.
“Savannah, love,” John said, the moment he saw her. “I’m so sorry to hear about the little nanny. Ghastly business, truly.” He hurried to her and enveloped her in a tight hug. His mustache tickled her cheek when he kissed it.
Once he released her, Ryan took over with his own affectionate embrace. “Are you all right?” he asked, looking deeply into her eyes and giving her flutters, for which she scolded herself sharply.
This wasn’t the time for flutters of any sort.
“What are you fellas up to there?” she asked, nodding toward the big black metal box that sat on the desk next to the telephone. Wires seemed to sprout from it everywhere. A plethora of knobs adorned the front, along with numerous dials and LED displays.
“We’re setting up a recording device,” John said, “in case your man there gets a ransom call.”
“Good idea.”
Actually, she doubted that a ransom call would be forthcoming. If kidnappers had been responsible for Beth’s and Freddy’s disappearances, Savannah would have expected them to have already contacted Ethan and demanded a ransom.
But the recorder was a good idea.
Heck, it couldn’t hurt.
Savannah glanced over at Ethan, who was sitting in a chair near the window. He was staring out on the gardens, but she could tell that he wasn’t seeing the beauty and serenity there.
Something terrible was going on in his mind’s eye. She assumed he was playing some of the same scenarios in his head that she was in her overly active imagination. Her waking nightmares, regarding his missing family, ranged from unpleasant to terrifying.
She walked over to him and sat on a chair near his. “Are you all right, Ethan?”
“No. Probably not,” he replied. “How could I be under these circumstances?”
“I’m sure that’s true.” She glanced over at Ryan and John, who were testing the equipment they had just installed. “It was a good idea, having them come over. I’ll be calling a meeting of the members of my agency this evening. But it doesn’t hurt to get them started a bit earlier.”
“It’s a good thing they’re here, in more ways than one. While you were talking to Luciana, your husband called.”
“Oh? Is there news?”
“Only that things are going to go from bad to worse. He told me he’s putting out an Amber alert on Freddy.”
“That could be a good thing, right?”
“It could be, if he’s found. But it also means that what’s happening here is going to be the lead story on the national evening news. Once that happens, things will be very different for all of us, Savannah. Even you.”
Savannah doubted that she would be personally affected, but she didn’t want to argue with him at a time like this. On the other hand, she was sure he was right about his own world changing, and not for the better.
An A-list movie star and his wife have a nasty argument, she takes off with his kid and the family nanny. Nanny turns up dead, and the wife and child haven’t been seen since.
Lead stories didn’t come any juicier than that.
“The paparazzi are going to descend on this place like a swarm of hornets,” Ethan predicted. “And they’ll be about as much fun to deal with. You’ll see. People think they’d like to be famous, but much of the time, it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. But personally, I’m still hoping that we’ll find them, safe and sound—their bodies and their minds.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears, as they say.”
“By the way, did Amy get a chance to ask you about Beth’s passwords?” she asked.
“If she could give them to you, the ones that she knows?”
“Yes. I realize it may sound intrusive but—”
“But ‘intrusive’ is officially off the table now.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. Pressing it into her hand he said, “We made up this list of the ones we know. They’ll get you into her social media, things like that.”
Savannah glanced over the list and was pleased at how many there were. “This may be very helpful. Thank you. My assistant will be able to put these to use right away.”
“Can you ask her to be discreet with what she finds?” he asked. “We’re big on privacy around here. I know my wife’s passwords, almost all of them, as she knows mine. But neither one of us would dream of using them to spy on the other. I feel like I’m betraying her by giving those to you.”
“If we use these and find something that winds up saving her and your son’s lives, she’ll be very glad you did.”
“That’s why I’m giving them to you and trusting that they won’t go any further than you and your assistant.”
“You have my word on that.” Savannah glanced over at Ryan and John, but they were chatting and seemed preoccupied as they installed the recorder. She lowered her voice and said, “There’s one other thing, Ethan, that I need to ask you for.”
He gave her a suspicious look, and she knew he wasn’t going to like what he heard next.
“The picture that you have of your wife and Neal Irwin . . .”
“Yes? What about it?”
“Did you send it to my husband yet?”
“No, I did not.”
“Would you send me a copy of it? You can send it to my office e-mail. My assistant is a whiz at computers, and she’s set it up so that everything we send and receive is encrypted, or whatever you call that. She assures me it’s completely safe from hackers.”
“I’d rather not. Obviously, it hurt me to see that picture, but she’s still my wife. I don’t want it out there in the world.”
“It won’t be. I’ll see it, and my assistant will see it. That’s all. I promise.”
“Why do you need it?”
“For one thing, my assistant can verify its validity. She’s an expert at that sort of thing. Wouldn’t you like to hear from an expert if it’s truly what it appears to be?”
“It’s exactly what it appears to be. But if you think you need it, I’ll send it to you.”
“What I would really like you to do is locate the original e-mail that you received from this anonymous source, the one that had the photo attached to it. If you could forward the actual letter to us, that might be especially helpful.”
She took one of her business cards from her purse, turned it over, and scribbled their confidential, secure e-mail address
on the back. Handing it to him, she said, “Send it to us there, please. Let the subject line be: ‘S&T Only.’ Within the hour, I’ll alert Tammy that you’re e-mailing us something highly confidential and not to open it unless she’s alone.”
“Okay. I’ll wait an hour for you to give her the heads-up and then I’ll send it to you.”
“Fair enough.” She gave him a sweet smile, one that she hoped was encouraging. “You’ve been wonderful so far, Ethan. You’ve done everything you can do to help your family. It’s important that you know that.”
He shook his head. “How can you say that, Savannah? I’ve been a royal pain all along.”
She stood, tucked her purse under her arm, and said, “You’ve been just fine, Mr. Malloy. I’ve dealt with people in similar situations who weren’t nearly as cooperative and patient as you’ve been. Heck, I’ve been working with you nearly an entire day and you haven’t cursed me out, hit me, threatened to have me arrested, or spit on me. In my book, you’re an absolute gem of a client.”
* * *
After saying good-bye to Ethan, Ryan, and John, Savannah left the library and found her own way down the hallway, through the foyer, and out the front door.
That was when she saw it.
The paparazzi swarm.
As Ethan had described, they look like a batch of angry hornets, ready to descend on their unsuspecting insect prey.
There had to be at least a dozen vehicles parked along the narrow road leading to the Malloy home. Mulling about beside those assorted automobiles were men and women with every sort of camera and microphone that Savannah had ever seen, and some she hadn’t.
The moment she stepped outside the door, they transformed from bored mannequins into highly animated reporters and photographers.
She saw the flashing of what seemed to be at least twenty cameras, and heard just as many voices screaming questions at her.
“Where is Ethan Malloy?”
“Did he kill his wife and son?”
“The police think he murdered his boy’s nanny. Can you comment on that?”
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