Allison Campbell Mystery Series Boxed Set: Books 1-4

by Wendy Tyson

  “Yes.”

  “How could she walk in those shoes, much less on a trail at night?” Allison flashed back to Shirin’s tone moments before she left the castle. Angry but resolute, calm. “Karina, tell me why Shirin would be on that path alone? She didn’t leave the castle until close to midnight. It was dark and late. Surely she would have known better, even in the state she was in.”

  Karina wrapped her arms around her slender torso and sat with military bearing in her seat. “You’re right. There is no explanation. Shirin was not a brave woman. In fact, she disliked the outdoors very much. At least the more rugged aspects.”

  Unlike her husband. “Maybe she got lost.”

  “No, no, I don’t think so.” Karina stood, paced back and forth. She glanced out the window, toward the castle. “I should go. Elle will be waiting for me.”

  “Are the police saying anything?”

  Karina stepped away from the window and turned around. Her eyes looked red and watery. “The police believe it was an accident because of the skid marks and because Shirin had been carrying a flashlight.” She paused. “It was found with her, down by the river. Why would she carry a flashlight? That is intentional. You carry a flashlight if you intend to go into a dark space. Her cottage was lit, the walking path between the cottages has lights.” Karina shook her head. “She went to the path by the river on purpose.”

  Allison pictured the path. “Skid marks,” she repeated. “As though she was trying to stop herself.” Allison thought of the bruises on Shirin’s arm, of Douglas’s cold demeanor the night before when confronted by his wife. “Douglas?”

  Karina shrugged. “Shirin would never have ventured into the woods alone, much less on a secluded trail that leads to the river. And definitely not at night.” She paused for effect. “It’s possible someone else was there with Shirin.”

  “And Douglas is an accomplished hiker,” Allison said. She chewed on this. “But that’s why it doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Why would Douglas do something right after he’d had a very public fight with his wife? Wouldn’t that cast him as the lead suspect?”

  “Not if the police ruled it as an accident. Angry wife storms off and loses her way, that sort of thing. And from what I understand, Shirin was definitely angry.”

  Only Allison was no longer thinking of Shirin. She was considering another death, one that really could have been a perfect crime. Two falls, both at night. Could Damien’s death and Shirin’s be more than a coincidence? Could they be related?

  Karina opened the door, but she seemed reluctant to leave. The copter was overhead now, flying back to where it had come from, just a speck over trees.

  Allison asked, “Who found Shirin?”

  “When she didn’t return last night, we were all out looking for her.”

  “But who found her body?”

  Karina hesitated, but only for a moment. “Douglas. Douglas found his wife.”

  The inspector was young. A handsome man in a fussy sort of way, he seemed neither overly-confident nor unduly nervous. And while he spoke fluent Italian and German, as did many in these parts, he did not speak a lick of English.

  “He will return with a translator,” Karina told her. They were in the main library of the castle, where the inspector had been meeting with each guest, one by one.

  As an American abroad, Allison needed to protect herself and her rights. She would provide information—after speaking with Jason—and the need for an impartial interpreter bought her time.

  Allison rose to leave. “If you don’t need me, I’ll return to the cottage.”

  “The inspector doesn’t need you, but Elle would like to see you, if you can spare a few moments.”

  The tone of her voice—firm but careful—said Allison’s presence had been demanded, not requested.

  “Of course.”

  Karina excused herself from the library, leaving the inspector alone with his notes and his thoughts while she walked Allison to Elle’s rooms on the second floor. Unlike the rest of the castle, Elle’s apartment had been decorated with a strong nod to modern design and clean lines. Art anchored the room, modern pieces with strong colors and subjects that spoke of place—cityscapes, mountains, vibrant doorways. It was a jarring contrast, and it said a lot about Elle’s sense of belonging and self.

  As did the clutter. Stacks of books, scripts, notebooks, and fashion magazines covered every flat surface. Dirty dishes and wine glasses littered the coffee table and the small bistro table in the corner.

  And then there were the clothes. Dresses, shirts, shorts, panties, and shoes had been tossed in such a way that it looked like a giant blower fan had been aimed at someone’s wardrobe and this was the result.

  “It’s always like this, I’m afraid,” Karina said.

  Allison flipped a switch and the room was flooded with light. “Better,” she said. “Where is Elle?”

  “Toilet most likely. Taking a bath. Let me get her.”

  Karina was back seconds later with a fully dressed Elle. She wore tight jeans and a gray racerback halter top. Her eyes were red, her lips cracked and dry.

  “You can go,” Elle said to Karina. “Tell Dominic to get my car ready.”

  “Where are you going?” Karina’s eyes widened.

  “Just tell him,” she repeated and walked away.

  “I want you to know what to expect. I’ve been through this before. Same inspector, same process.” Elle lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. When she exhaled, she coughed. “Don’t be intimidated by their foreign-ness.”

  “It’s hard not to be. We’re not on American soil. Our rights here aren’t the same.”

  Elle shrugged. “I feel awful, really awful.” She traced a figure eight on her thigh. “Terrible.”

  “Did you receive my text last night? I tried to call you too.”

  “I did.”

  “Shirin was upset. She’d put two and two together after placing Lara’s perfume.”

  “I know.”

  Elle continued with her invisible doodles. Her lack of focus was maddening. She looked up finally and said, “I haven’t been completely honest.”

  Allison waited, not surprised.

  “We can’t talk here.” She stood, grabbed her bag, and headed toward the door to her rooms.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Let’s go look at the church where you’re getting married. It will be quiet there.” She glanced around the empty rooms. “And free of other distractions.”

  FIFTEEN

  The Roman Catholic church consisted of three stone buildings clustered on a grassy hill, surrounded by a low stone wall. The ever-vigilant Dolomites stood watch in the background, their peaks casting shadows on the tallest of the buildings, the chapel tower. An ornate iron cross sat atop the tower, reaching to the heavens. The priest, a small, white-haired man with sallow skin and deep-set eyes, met Allison and Elle in the chapel. After showing them briefly around, he left them to wander on their own.

  Elle sat outside on a stone bench overlooking the countryside. Below them, on a steep that rolled to the horizon, cows grazed on a hillside meadow beside a deep-red barn. Two men wielded scythes against the tall meadow grasses, their bodies just miniature figures in the distance. The day was muggy and hot. Both women had brought large silk scarves to cover their shoulders in the chapel, out of respect for the local custom. Allison used the scarf to dab the sweat beading now on her brow. She wished for shade, but she was willing to trade the sun’s heat for the view from the bench. Breathtaking.

  Elle took her time settling in. Legs crisscrossed under her, she leaned forward on the bench and pulled a cigarette from the pocket of her jeans. She held it, unlit. “Shirin was Damien’s cousin.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It didn’t seem important.”

  “But now it do
es?”

  “Maybe.” Elle’s gaze followed the movement of the farmers who were starting on a new patch of field. “Douglas married Damien’s cousin. They—Damien, my dad, and Jeremy—go way back. Friends from when I was young. I met Damien through my dad. I became friendly with Shirin, and my dad took Douglas onboard the foundation partly as a favor to me.”

  Allison thought of Shirin’s words during that first dinner, and then later in the spa. She barely seemed to like Elle much less consider her a friend. Indeed, Allison had rarely seen them together.

  “For a cousin, you didn’t seem close.”

  “She was Damien’s cousin, not mine. And they weren’t particularly close.” She pulled out a cigarette. “Do you mind?”

  “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

  Elle nodded. She continued to hold the cigarette. “Anyway, I feel responsible.”

  That surprised Allison. “Why? What did you do?”

  “Don’t you get it? Had I not insisted that my father take Douglas on as a board member, none of this would have happened. Shirin would still be alive.”

  “These were adults. They made their own choices.”

  “I knew what kind of man Douglas was. A narcissist. A thrill-seeker. I thought maybe if he had something good to focus his energy on, he would settle down and be a better husband.” She grew quieter. “Shirin wanted children. Did you know that? I know she came across as self-centered and reserved, but, well, she wanted a baby in the worst way. Douglas didn’t.” She started to cry. “And now she’s dead.”

  Not to throw salt in an open wound, but Allison had to ask. “Why didn’t you tell Shirin about Douglas and Lara?”

  Elle waved the cigarette in the air. “To what end? He wouldn’t stop. I’m sure Lara wasn’t the only one. Shirin was blind when it came to Douglas. I was hoping he’d see the error of his ways and stop. My father was supposed to talk with him.”

  “Did he?”

  Elle stared at her feet, wiggled her toes. “Who knows? He says he did.” Another sob. “Too late now anyway.”

  Allison waited until the sobbing had run its course. She asked, “What do you think happened to Shirin?”

  Elle looked up, wiping her eyes. “She went for a walk and lost her footing. She was upset.”

  Allison asked gently, “An accident?”

  “I guess. Why?” Elle’s eyes widened. “You think Douglas did it?”

  “I didn’t say that. Did you see Douglas last night? After Shirin left?”

  Elle glanced away. “No, I was with my father. He had a tough night.”

  Something told Allison that Elle was lying, but she chose not to pursue it now. Instead, she sat quietly, thinking about lies, deceit, greed, and the consequences of a few bad choices. Here, in the shadow of a church older than her own country, it was easy to condemn a reckless, selfish man and his unfaithful lover. But Allison knew things were often more complicated than they seemed.

  Allison stood. “We should get back. The police inspector is supposed to return with a translator, and I don’t want to leave Grace with Hilda for too long.”

  As they passed the front of the chapel, Elle said, “You’re really going to do it? Get married, that is.”

  Surprised by the question, Allison nodded. “I am.”

  Elle’s smile was wistful. “It’s a show of faith, isn’t it? Loving someone enough to make that commitment.”

  “A show of faith in the relationship? Yes, it certainly is.”

  But Elle shook her head. “No, I mean a show of faith in the universe. In God. In whatever you think is in charge of this crazy world.” The sad smile widened. “A show of faith that what’s good in your life won’t be snatched away.”

  Allison, thinking of her mother, nodded. She assumed Elle was thinking of Damien. And like that, it hit Allison: two people from one family. Was that the connection?

  The idea plagued Allison. Through her afternoon play time at the pool with Grace, during her nutrition session with Elle, after her evening call with Jason, she considered the two deaths. Statistically, it seemed unlikely that two related people would die within six months of one another in the same accidental way. But they were in a rugged, rocky, dangerous corner of the world where the unwary or inexperienced could find themselves in trouble.

  Was Karina right? Had Shirin been the victim of foul play? Had someone else been with her, perhaps someone who hadn’t pushed her but witnessed the event? Douglas? And was it possible that Shirin’s death was no accident but Damien’s had been?

  The thought of murder made Allison’s blood run cold. She’d come here to escape. Instead, these things seemed to follow her.

  The inspector never returned that day with a translator to talk with Allison. She saw him on the grounds, speaking with Dominic and then, later, Elle, but he left Allison alone. It was just as well. Her concern about the two deaths being linked wouldn’t leave her, and she didn’t want to say anything to the police. Not yet. Not until she was sure.

  It was Elle who brought up Damien, giving Allison the opening she needed to broach the subject of his death.

  “He was charming, you know,” Elle said. “An old-school gentleman.” She smiled wistfully. “Sometimes I felt like he was the only person who really took the time to know me.” She shrugged. “Maybe because he was older. Or maybe because he knew my dad.”

  “Or maybe because you showed him the real you.”

  “Maybe.” Elle looked down at her newly-painted toes, watching the glint of sun on gold. She had on a wispy peasant skirt made of sheer white material, a white thong that showed through, and a pink and white-striped tank top. Her hair had been pulled into a messy chignon, and pieces floated about her face like a new age halo. At least twenty metal bangles graced one arm, multiple toe rings decorated her narrow feet.

  “How old are you, Elle? Your real age?”

  “Thirty-six.”

  Allison shot her a hard look.

  “Okay, fine. Thirty-nine.”

  Allison still didn’t believe her—Vaughn had her down as forty-two, and his sources were usually right. She maintained her stare, waiting.

  Elle threw her head back. “Fine. I just turned forty-two. Happy now? You cannot tell anyone.”

  “What’s wrong with forty-two?”

  “It’s old.”

  “It’s just an age.”

  “Not in my line of business.”

  Allison cocked her head to the side. “And what line of work is that?”

  Elle wrapped her arms around her legs and rocked back and forth. “Point taken.”

  Softly, Allison said, “You look like you’re still trying to figure out who to be when you grow up.”

  Silence, during which Elle’s Palomino wandered over and watched them from beyond the stockade fence.

  “You want me to dress my age?”

  “No. I want you to be who you are, not some mixed-up version of who you think you’re supposed to be.”

  They were outside, under a large spruce tree by the stables. Elle said she wanted help redefining her brand. She wanted a new look and a new attitude. What she needed was for someone to be honest with her.

  “Think about Damien,” Allison said quietly. “How did you feel when the two of you were together?”

  “Peaceful.” Elle rocked harder. “Safe.”

  “How did you act? Dress?”

  “When it was just the two of us?”

  Allison nodded.

  “I just acted like me. We swam, played cards, danced to his favorite music. He liked Salsa and Calypso.” Elle smiled. “I wore whatever I wanted.”

  “Which was?”

  “Jeans. Long skirts. Flat sandals. Whatever. He didn’t care.” She frowned. “If they were here, I paid more attention.” She shrugged in the direction of the cottages, meaning—Allison assumed—he
r guests.

  “You were happy?”

  “Happy. That’s a funny word.” Elle unraveled her lanky frame and walked toward the fence, holding her hand out to the horse, who looked at her sideways but stayed where she was. “But yes, I guess I was happy.”

  “You loved him very much.”

  “Damien?” Elle swung around. “I met him when I was twenty-seven. Just a pup. He was already forty-eight, but I didn’t care. He seemed so worldly, and after the reality television shows and the paparazzi and my mother’s death, he seemed so…stable.”

  “You moved here when you were thirty-three.”

  Carefully plucked eyebrows arched up. “You did your homework.”

  “It’s my job to know.”

  “Yes, I was thirty-three. Damien was tired of my parties and my drinking and the constant crowds, so he put his foot down and moved us here. This castle was in his family. He bought it from his great-aunt before she died. My father bought it from him when money was tight.” Elle pursed her lips. “Little did Damien know it would be his final resting place.”

  They watched the horse as she walked, then galloped, across the pasture, her head down and her body all sleek, beautiful muscle.

  Allison said carefully, “What happened that night, Elle?”

  Elle’s torso seemed to curl in on itself. “He fell. Or so they said.” She glanced at Allison, who waited patiently for her to continue. “It was late. We were having a dinner party, and he took my dog, Bits, out for a walk. Normally Dominic or Karina would have done that, but I think Damien wanted some air.” She swallowed, nodded to herself. “He wanted to get out for a while. Have a smoke, walk the dog. I told you, he didn’t like the parties.”

  “Did he stick to a trail he knew?”

  “He went down past the stone wall, toward the ruins. It was late, but he had a flashlight. And Bits. They knew the way well. They’d done it a thousand times. Not at night, perhaps. But they were familiar with the path.”

  “He was an outdoorsman?”

  Elle laughed. A genuine smile lit up her face. “Spirit there was his horse. He’d ride, hike, climb, and ski. You name it, Damien had mastered it.” Her face fell. “As long as it was outdoors.”