Murder by Design Trilogy

by Mary Jane Forbes

  Gilly raised her hand to stop him from saying any more.

  “No, no. Let me finish. After I saw you in your shop … not only had you given birth to our baby, but you had given birth to your other passion—fashion design. The fashion business. When I returned from Seattle, I began walking the streets in the fashion district. I’d look at shop windows and think how much better your designs would look in that window. A shop would be vacated and I’d go in to inquire about the rent, the space. What I’m trying to say is, you belong in Paris, you have so much to contribute, and I want you by my side as I will always be at your side. No, no. That’s not quite what I’m trying to say.”

  He looked into her eyes. “I love you, Gillianne. My dream is that we will live out our lives together as husband and wife, supporting each other’s work, loving each other, and, hopefully, having another baby. Don’t answer now. All I ask is that you think about everything I’ve said tonight. I’ll ask you after you’re back in Seattle, after you have time to think about these last few days, if you will say yes to my proposal. And, I’ll keep asking until you tell me to stop.”

  Gilly didn’t respond. She stood and started walking back along the rose-bordered path to the car.

  Chapter 41

  ───

  MAXIME PARKED THE CAR in front of the house. It was dark except for a glow from the living room and hall. The front porch light was left on for them. They entered the living room, warm and cozy with a low fire. Blackie sat next to the fireplace, Maddy sitting on a stool beside him. He looked frail, almost consumed by the chair.

  Maddy didn’t stand to greet the couple, her face troubled, anxious as she laid her hand on her husband’s arm. There was a balloon of brandy untouched on the table beside his chair.

  “He wouldn’t go to bed. I know he isn’t feeling well, Maxime, but he said he had to talk to Gillianne. I begged him to go to bed but he wouldn’t. I don’t know what’s bothering him.”

  “Did you tell her?” Blackie asked, the gravelly words catching in his throat as he lifted his head to look at his son.

  Maxime nodded.

  Blackie’s eyes sought Gilly’s.

  “Gillianne, when I saw Robyn … for the first time … some six days ago, I knew I had done … a terrible thing.”

  Blackie’s chest began to rise and fall as he sucked in air. “I took a good look … at myself, … what a mean, conniving … do anything to get what I wanted bastard. I can … only thank the good Lord … that I didn’t succeed. I don’t know why … you would ever forgive me, but, child, … I’m asking for your forgiveness.”

  Tears slowly built in his eyes, then flowed down his cheeks. He made no move to stop them. His head bent forward slightly, he gripped his chest, but never took his eyes from her.

  Gilly ran to him, knelt down, grasped his hands. “Yes, Blackie, I forgive you. You were only trying to help your son. It was wrong, but I’m still here. Your granddaughter is sleeping upstairs.”

  His face turned pale as his blood seemed to drain away, his body withering under the weight of his guilt. Maddy ran to the phone, calling his doctor in the village to come quickly, she believed Blackie was having a heart attack.

  Gilly carefully pulled Blackie’s head down between his knees, began rubbing his back, chanting, “I forgive you, Blackie. Do you hear me? I forgive you.”

  Blackie’s head bobbed that he had heard.

  Maddy ran in with a towel soaked in cold water, held it to her husband’s forehead and neck.

  Maxime saw headlights entering the driveway and rushed to the door to let the doctor in.

  Maxime and the doctor helped Blackie to the floor, the doctor slipping a pill under Blackie’s tongue. Within seconds his erratic breathing began to slow. A little color returned to his face.

  Gilly squatted next to him Indian style holding his hand.

  Maddy collapsed in a chair as the doctor talked softly to Blackie.

  “Gave us a scare there old man,” the doctor said with a chuckle. “Think you can make it to the bedroom if Maxime and I hold you up?”

  “Yes ... I can make it … and don’t look so pleased … with yourself. Just give me … a few of those … magic pills.”

  “Nitro, my friend. I told you six months ago that your heart had developed an uneven beat. Now, I want you to carry one of these capsules in your wallet, or better yet on a chain around your neck. And, take it easy for a few days. No riding that stallion of yours. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes … I hear you. I just … had to set something straight … with Gillianne … before … she leaves us tomorrow.”

  “Well, Maddy, keep this guy down if you can. You heard what I said to him.”

  “Yes, Doctor, and thank you for coming so quickly.”

  “No thanks required. This guy and I’ve been friends since we were knee high and I’m not about to let him get away from me that easy. Now, Maxime, let’s you and I get your father into bed.”

  Chapter 42

  ───

  Seattle

  THE JUMBO JET GAINED speed, lifted off the tarmac, and climbed into the sky. As it banked to the left Gilly gazed out the window at the breathtaking view of the beautiful city laying beneath her. Paris. Soon the blue-gray water of the Atlantic Ocean was all she could see.

  Laying her head back against the seat, her left hand relaxed on the armrest, she felt her baby grip her finger. Glancing down at Robyn kicking her legs up and down in the carrier strapped to the seat. She’ll be crawling soon, Gilly thought, smiling at the little tot. She almost had the hang of it playing on the grass at the Beaumont’s country villa.

  At the festival Robyn didn’t know what to make of the other babies, toddlers, or little people in general. But adults, oh boy, hang on to your heart because she’d snatch it away with her dark eyes, little pink lips, and red curls. Gilly wasn’t sure what grabbed people first—the big dark eyes or the red curls, or maybe it was her pouty lips drawn into a smile with a giggle.

  Her thoughts wandered to the scare the night before—Blackie apparently thwarting a heart attack. She hadn’t talked to Gabby or Maria since she landed in Paris other than to let them know she had arrived. Had more orders come in? Was Skip still on track with his training schedule for the marathon?

  But the thoughts that she kept trying to push aside kept creeping in. Gilly knew that she was facing diverging paths. Seattle. Paris. Two very different directions, each leading to a different life. Not that she couldn’t reverse course if one or the other didn’t work out, but she knew that whatever choice she made would be the one to shape the rest of her life. Of Robyn’s life. She was anxious to see Gramps. Tell him about Maddy and Blackie—Blackie’s plea for forgiveness. And, of course, Maxime’s proposal.

  The trip was long—one stop at JFK Airport, going through customs, showing Robyn’s passport that Maxime had somehow arranged cutting through red tape, and then two hours later boarding for the last leg of her return journey to Seattle. Gilly dozed much of the time always resting her hand on Robyn’s arm, reassured with the feel of her soft baby skin that she was still there.

  At last the flight attendants were walking the aisle, checking that the seatbacks were in the upright position, tray tables stowed for landing.

  Gilly caught sight of Nicole first standing at the bottom of the escalator on the baggage claim level, bobbing up and down, waving frantically to get her attention. Then Gabby, Maria, Hawk, and her mom and dad. Arthur and Cindy stood to the side. Her father relieved her of the heavy carrier, excitement in Robyn’s wide eyes because all the adults around her were excited. She batted the mouse standing on the suction cup attached to the carrier between her legs as everyone cooed at her, touched her curls, thankful that she was home. Thankful that she was safe.

  Anne gave her daughter a quick hug saying that Gramps was waiting back in Hansville to see her tomorrow, Saturday.

  Circled by family and friends, Gilly sighed. It felt good to be home.

  Chapter 43

>   ───

  Hansville

  WITH OCTOBER WELL UNDER way, dawn had a decided chill in the air. Gilly felt invigorated, excited, and happy as she turned down the driveway and parked. Gramps was out the patio door like a shot followed by Agatha scampering to keep up. Coco squirted around, darting through her cat door into the guesthouse.

  Gilly jumped out of the car and was instantly wrapped against her grandfather’s big frame. He kissed her cheek and immediately let go turning to the car. Robyn was wailing—she wanted in on the action. Gilly, laughing, released the seatbelt from the carrier and hauled it out so Gramps could touch his little curly-haired great granddaughter smiling through teary eyes.

  Agatha bumped down the steps leading the way to the patio door, her stub of a tail switching back and forth waiting to be let in.

  “Gramps, put that kettle on. I’m ready for one of your steamy cups of tea. Just give me a couple of minutes to put Robyn in her crib. She’s more than ready for a nap.”

  “Two teas coming up. Skip’s out on his long run—sixteen miles today. Did you pass him?”

  “No. When did he start?”

  “Over an hour ago. He won’t be back for awhile. Must have ducked into a store. He said he had to pick up another Gatorade.”

  Gilly ambled into the kitchen, flopped in a chair at the table, and gazed at the sparkling waters of Puget Sound.

  Home!

  Gramps poured the boiling water over the teabags. “Robyn looks none the worse for wear considering her ordeal.”

  “Are you kidding? She was treated like royalty. Literally.”

  “Tell me about the Beaumonts. What were they like?”

  Taking a mug from Gramp’s hand, Gilly took a tentative sip of tea so as not to burn her tongue. “Gramps, they were wonderful. Maxime’s mother, Madeleine … she insisted I call her Maddy … we hit it off right from the beginning. She’s a wonderful, warm woman. Very caring. Nothing like what I expected from a Countess.”

  “Countess?”

  “Yup. Count and Countess Beaumont. Pretty impressive, huh? That’s what I meant when I said Robyn was treated like royalty. A little princess.”

  “What was he like, the Count?”

  Gilly shook her head. “He seemed to change before my eyes. You’ll never believe the story Maxime told me. I shudder when I think about it—the Count put out a contract to have me murdered.”

  Gramps mug slammed to the table, sloshing tea on his red suspenders, khaki shirt and trousers. Gilly hopped up, grabbed a kitchen towel, and mopped up the table.

  “Lordy, Gilly. He must have been joking.”

  “Hardly a joke, Gramps. It all started with Spiky. When he blackmailed Maxime … well, that’s how they found out I was pregnant and then the Count feared if the media got hold of the story Maxime would lose the election for the Senate seat, something the Count had groomed—

  “Hold on, sweetie. Take a breath. You mean, he thought if you were out of the picture—

  “That’s right. And then, all along, Bernadette, Maxime’s wife … ex-wife … thought if she delivered Robyn to the Beaumonts they would take her back into the family—

  “Wait, wait, wait. You said they were wonderful. How could you stay—

  “Oh, Gramps, Maddy knew nothing about me or Robyn at that time, not until after Maxime returned from his first trip to see me in Seattle. Gramps, Blackie—

  “Who’s Blackie?”

  “Maxime’s father, the Count. That’s what Maddy calls him. He’s so filled with guilt and remorse that it’s eating him alive. Gramps he’s skin and bones … withering away. The night before I left he suffered a heart attack. The doctor came just in time. Gramps, Blackie was begging me for forgiveness as he clutched at his chest. His face, his body was contorted in pain as he begged me.”

  “Oh, child,” Gramps whispered. “Did you—

  “Yes, I did. How could I not. He was trying to help his son and the guilt was killing him.”

  “What about Maxime. Did he know what his father had done?”

  Gilly left the table, wrapped the wet towel on the knob on the cupboard door. Returning to her grandfather, she looked into his eyes, shaking her head. “Gramps, he’s torn with guilt, begged me to forgive him—for turning me away in Paris. Oh, Gramps. I don’t know what to do?”

  “Did you forgive him, too,” Gramps whispered, his eyes riveted on Gilly’s.

  “I did, and then he told me of his dreams.”

  “Dreams?”

  “That Robyn and I would return to Paris. That he and I would marry, be a family.”

  “My God, child, what did you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything. He’s waiting for my answer.”

  “What about Skip? I thought—

  “I know. Everyone thinks that Skip and I … Gramps, help me.”

  He slowly shook his head, put the teakettle back on the burner and stood staring at the stove. When the kettle whistled he topped off their tea, set the kettle back on the stove and returned to sit beside his granddaughter. As the steam rose from the teacup fogging his glasses, Gramps waited then wiped the mist away, and continued to look into the tea.

  “As I see it, sweetie, you have two passions inside you. A creative passion for design. A passion you were born with. For most of your years, this creative passion, displayed through your designs, has been your driving force.” Pausing, he peered into the green eyes looking back at him searching for understanding, searching for his wisdom, searching for answers.

  “This passion to create is driving you higher and higher into the business of fashion. Will it take you to the top? I see nothing to stop you. And, this passion of yours to create will continue to drive you no matter where you live. In fact, in time you may become known worldwide.”

  Gramps took a sip of his tea, looked out the window as a seagull glided by on the wind. He turned back, looking at Gilly hanging on his words. He put his leathered hand on hers. “But there is this other passion that all of us are born with—the passions of the heart. Now that’s a different kettle of fish. That passion searches for someone, sometimes consumed by another, always seeking someone to return the passion in kind—stronger for some than others. Do you remember what I told you when you first came to me … told me you were pregnant, and I told you that matters of the heart are complex. Your moral compass—what’s right or wrong—sometimes becomes overwhelmed by emotions, passions that engulf your body?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Well, time can have a way of clearing away the fog that emotions boil up. What seemed wrong back then may, in hindsight, have not been so wrong after all.”

  Gilly stood, stepped to her grandfather and sat on his lap as she had when she was a little girl and he had kissed a cut on her elbow to make it better.

  “I love you Gramps. Thank you.”

  Agatha, sleeping in her favorite spot—head in the kitchen, back half in the living room, suddenly jumped up and ran to the patio door.

  “Skip must be back. He usually showers in the guesthouse and then joins me. Your car’s parked in the driveway so he knows you’re here. I’ll put on another kettle of water. Anne brought over a fish salad yesterday on her way to the airport to meet your plane. She and your dad will be here soon.”

  “I’ll check the mailbox for you, pick a pint of berries for Skip,” Gilly said giving Gramps a kiss on his forehead. She let Agatha out the patio door and the two ambled up to the mailbox at the end of the driveway.

  Skip emerged from the guesthouse and Agatha scampered up to him, jumping and whining as if they had been separated for years. He looked around for Gilly, spotted her up in the raspberry patch and trotted up to join her. He gave her a hug twirling her around and set her back on her feet squealing that she was spilling the berries.

  Stepping back, he grinned. “It’s good to have you back. Is Robyn with you?”

  “Always,” she laughed.

  “Well, let’s go see her.”

  He ran ahe
ad to give Agatha’s little legs a work out. “Gramps,” he called out. You’ll never guess who I found in the berry patch.”

  Strolling into the kitchen he found Gramps lying on the floor by the stove, the kettle whistling.

  “Gilly,” he yelled. “Gilly.”

  Hearing the tone of his yell, Gilly ran through the patio to the kitchen.

  “Gramps,” she screamed. His lifeless face stared up at her. “Gramps, no, no. Don’t leave me. Gramps … no.” She lifted his head onto her lap, holding him close, rocking back and forth. “No, Gramps … not now.”

  Skip hung up the receiver after giving the address to the 911 operator. He looked down at a woman whose heart was breaking and there was nothing that he, the medics, or anyone else could do to ease her pain.

  Gramps was dead.

  Chapter 44

  ───

  “MAXIME?” GILLY WHISPERED into the phone.

  “Gillianne, you’re crying. What’s wrong?”

  …

  “Gillianne, tell me.”

  “Gramps is dead.”

  “Oh, my love,” he whispered. “What happened?”

  “His heart … his big heart … it stopped. What … I can’t …”

  “Yes, you can, my darling. Same as my mother—

  “What?”

  …

  “Blackie … Blackie died … last night.”

  “No. No. Maxime … Maddy …tell her I love her.”

  …

  “I will.”

  “Maxime, … I’m so sorry.”

  “… and I for you, my darling.”

  “Bye,” she whispered.

  “Bye,” he whispered in return.

  …

  …

  “Gillianne?”

  “Yes, I’m still here.”

  “How is Robyn?”

  “Fine. It’s just … well …we’re all so sad. And now, you and Maddy …”