Allison Campbell Mystery Series Boxed Set: Books 1-4

by Wendy Tyson

  “Thank you. I think I’ll have Grace go tomorrow as planned. But I appreciate the effort.”

  Elle held out a paper. “For you.”

  Allison glanced down at it. After a moment, she saw that it was an order for a urinalysis. More specifically a drug test.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I had this taken yesterday after our discussion. I paid a private lab to do it. I should receive the results in the next day or two.”

  Allison glanced at the report again. “Why?”

  “To prove that I’m not using.” Elle pushed her hair aside. She wore white Capri pants and a black and white tunic, and she crossed one skinny leg over the other, tugging a Marlboro from a pack in her pocket as she did so. “Cigarette?”

  Allison smiled. “No, but thank you.”

  “So I’m not using. And I want to help.”

  Allison sighed. She took another sip of wine, thinking.

  “Remember the personal plan we started but never finished?”

  Elle nodded.

  “Finish it.”

  Elle’s eyes widened. “Okay, I will.”

  “Then we’ll talk.”

  “Understood.” Elle’s face flushed. “Anything else?”

  “Can you make the weather clear up?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  They sat in comfortable silence for another quarter of an hour. When the wine was finished and the hazy sun had dipped farther below the highest peak, Elle stood to leave.

  She stopped by Allison’s open laptop. Her gaze fell on the screen. “What are you working on?”

  Allison flipped her laptop closed. No use in alarming Elle. But it was too late. She’d seen the screen.

  “Why are you looking at information about Michael’s mother?”

  “Did you know she’d been embezzling from your dad?”

  “Really? No. I had no idea.”

  “That’s why your dad let her go.”

  “What does Clarice have to do with anything?”

  “Honestly?” Allison debated how much to say. “Perhaps Shirin’s death.”

  “You think Clarice killed Shirin?” Elle’s expression said Allison was three marbles short of a dozen.

  “No, but I think you may be right about Michael. That he is messing with your dad. That he’s somehow involved in all of this. Did you know he has a record?”

  “He told my dad early on.” Elle lingered by the table. “What’s changed your mind about him?”

  “Right now, I’m just flirting with the possibilities. But Michael’s story just always seemed too…convenient.”

  “I’ve thought that too. But then I thought maybe I was just being selfish. Wanting my dad to myself.” Elle chewed at her bottom lip. “If Michael isn’t the actual killer, then who? Douglas? He seems like the obvious choice.”

  “For more reasons than may meet the eye.” Allison sighed. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  Elle plopped back down in her seat. “I’m all ears.”

  Allison shared some of the conversation she and Vaughn had earlier. She mentioned their concerns about Douglas and the fact that things seemed to revolve around her father, Sam.

  “You mean if Damien was murdered.”

  It was Allison’s turn to be surprised. “Yes. If Damien is part of what’s happening, that changes things, don’t you think?”

  Elle nodded slowly. “I’ve told you all along that I don’t think my husband’s death was an accident.” A shadow crossed her features. “I didn’t know about Douglas. About his past.” She shuddered. “All this time…him here. With Shirin. With Lara. And Shirin knew?”

  Allison nodded.

  “Crazy.” Elle picked at the edge of her kaftan. “You must think we’re all nuts.” She glanced at Allison through hooded eyes. “Maybe we are.” She straightened. “It could be someone different, Allison. One of the staff members. A rabid fan with a god complex.”

  “We’ve thought of that. I’m sure Balzan has too.” Allison thought about Elle’s offer to help. “I know you’re not involved with your dad’s foundation, but can you get me documents? Particularly information about applicants who were rejected?”

  “Sure, I can try. Are you thinking someone who applied to the foundation did this?”

  “We’re casting a very wide net right now. What I am thinking is that the same group of people were here the night Damien died and the night Shirin died, right?”

  “Well, except for Michael. He may or may not have been here the night Shirin died.”

  Like Schrodinger’s cat, Allison mused. The elusive Michael. She said, “Let’s assume for the moment he was. That leaves a finite group of suspects, some of whom the family has known for years.” Not that that means anything, Allison thought. As history had taught her. “How well do you know the employees?”

  “You mean Hilda, Dominic, and Karina?”

  “The ones who were here for both deaths.”

  “That would be the group. Dominic has been here since Damien’s family owned the place.”

  “Could he have a vendetta against Damien? Perhaps Damien’s family somehow wronged him?”

  “He has the most access, so I guess anything is possible. He seems devoted. And the Duarte family was very good to Dominic and his kids.”

  “How about the women?”

  “I think Karina’s been here for almost two years. Hilda, a little over a year. But to be fair, we didn’t need Hilda until we decided someone should look after Daddy.”

  “And when was that?”

  “A little over a year ago.”

  “That’s when he got sick?”

  A thinker’s crease formed between Elle’s eyes. “You know. It was kind of sudden. He’s always been a little off—due most likely to a lifetime of partying and some other questionable choices—but one day we found him wandering by the old church ruins alone. He seemed disoriented and confused. We had a local doctor come in, and he diagnosed him with early onset dementia. He gave him some medicines and said there really is no cure. After that, the episodes were infrequent, but recently they’ve happened closer together.”

  “Has he seen specialists?”

  “The Italian doctor recommended he see a neurologist. Michael found people in LA, a team of doctors who specialize in dementia. But Daddy said no way. My grandfather had Alzheimer’s. My father said he saw what his dad went through and he didn’t want to be anyone’s guinea pig. If it was meant to be, he’d lose his faculties here, where it’s peaceful.” Elle frowned. “Was peaceful.”

  Allison took this in. “Michael, huh? So who found the local doctor?”

  “Michael.”

  Pulse quickening, Allison said, “And you checked out the meds he put your father on?”

  “Of course. Well, Michael did. All normal drugs for helping someone deal with symptoms of dementia.”

  Allison recalled her mother’s litany of meds. While it was true they couldn’t cure her disease, they did help ease some of the symptoms. For a while anyway. “I’d love to see what he’s on.”

  “Sure.” Elle’s frown deepened. “You don’t think—”

  Allison held up a hand. “Just following up on your theory and checking out every angle.”

  Elle nodded. “Since the police came and inspected Michael’s room, I haven’t seen any more signs of him. He may have left.”

  “Did anyone locate his laptop? I don’t understand why Balzan doesn’t search the entire castle.”

  “He’s probably nervous to upset my father,” Elle said. “I’m guessing he’s waiting until he has more to go on.”

  Allison looked up. She could see Mia and Karina turning the corner of the walking path that led past the pools and spa. The two women looked deep in conversation, although from this distance, Allison couldn�
�t make out their faces. After a few more moments of conversation, Mia turned back to go to her own cottage, and Karina walked toward the castle.

  “How about Karina?” Allison asked. “How much do you trust her?”

  “Karina? We don’t always see eye to eye, but she’s been a rock through everything.”

  “How did you find her?”

  Elle scowled. “You know, I think she was recommended to Daddy by Michael.” She shrugged. “I don’t really know for sure. She came in, Daddy liked her, I interviewed her, and she was hired. She speaks fluent German and Italian, which helps around here. And she’s smart. Very sharp.”

  “How did she feel about my arrival?”

  “It was her idea for me to move on with my life. She’s been pushing me to leave the castle ever since Damien died. I found you through Delvar, not her, though.” Elle scrunched her nose. “Come to think of it, when I said I was hiring you, Karina thought it was overkill.”

  “She didn’t want me out here?”

  “She didn’t say that. She just seemed to disapprove of my choice to hire an image consultant in general. Thought I should be able to help myself. A ‘waste of money’ were her words.”

  Intriguing, Allison thought. A threat? Someone to undermine her own control and authority? “How about Hilda?”

  Elle smiled. “She’s a hard one to pin down. She’s quiet but dutiful, kind but reserved. I’m sure you saw that when she was with Grace.”

  “Grace sure loves her.” A thought that now gave Allison pause. “Who does she talk to here at the castle? Has she made any friends?”

  “Not really. Sometimes I see her chatting with Dominic. And on occasion she’ll dine with Karina. Mostly she stays to herself.”

  “Who recommended Hilda?”

  “The doctor who saw my father. Michael arranged for her to stay here.”

  Michael again. He’d had a lot of impact for someone relatively new to the family. Allison stared into her empty wine glass, wishing for more vino but knowing that she needed her wits about her.

  “And how about Jeremy?”

  Elle shrugged. “Jeremy’s Jeremy. Sometimes it’s hard to reconcile the public figure with the guy who shows up at our house. Keeps to himself a lot. Loves women. He’s been friends with my dad forever. I think he’s as upset about my father’s condition as I am.”

  Allison was hard pressed to see the director’s motive in killing Damien or Shirin. He had plenty of money, and while his wife had been having an affair with Shirin’s husband, why go after Shirin rather than Douglas? “Lara?”

  “Part of our circle since she married Jeremy. While it’s possible she’d want Shirin out of the picture, it’s doubtful. She doesn’t love Douglas. I’m not sure she’s capable of loving anyone. And she’s loaded too.”

  Allison had to agree. Lara did not seem remotely love struck when Allison talked to her about Douglas. “That leaves Mazy.”

  Elle let out a derisive snort. “It would be funny if Mazy had something to do with any of this.”

  “Funny? Why is that?”

  “She really is outside of it all. No relationship with anyone, other than a decades old fling with Daddy. She’s just here because Jeremy is making one of her books into a movie and she has certain creative rights. If she was involved? It’d be like she was the novelist writing the action in a book.”

  Or a movie, Allison thought. And we’re all stars. Someone here knew the bigger picture and was directing the action. But who?

  And why?

  TWENTY-NINE

  Allison didn’t catch up with Mia until that evening. She found her former mentor in the spa, relaxing in the sauna, a towel wrapped around her narrow rib cage. It was after six, and the castle felt deserted. Allison was looking forward to spending the evening with Grace because she and Mia were leaving for the village the next morning, but Vaughn had kicked her out of the cottage to have some “me” time. “I know you, Allison,” he’d said. “And if you don’t get some exercise or relax for a bit, you’ll be a bear all night.”

  Allison figured he meant witch—or something that rhymed with it—but she reluctantly agreed. The weather was still overcast, and a heavy mist had fallen over the forest, so she decided to forego a walk and head for the spa while Vaughn stayed behind with Grace.

  “It’s customary to be naked in here,” Mia said. She had one eye closed and the other was looking at Allison. “How very American of you to be wearing a towel.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  Mia smiled. She closed both eyes and put her head back. The sauna was heated by a wood stove that sat along the side, and the air, hot and dry, acted as a salve to Allison’s sore muscles—and mind. She joined Mia and sat on the hard wooden bench, pulling her towel tighter around her chest.

  “I saw you chatting with Karina.”

  “Nice woman.” Mia smiled. “Smart.”

  “That’s what Elle said.”

  “I think she’s taken a shine to Vaughn.”

  “‘A shine’?” Allison laughed. “Are you ninety?”

  “I will be soon enough.”

  They sat in companionable silence. Allison was happy to hear Mia so upbeat about Vaughn. Her breakup with Vaughn the year before had been about age. She was twenty years older and hated the idea of him caring for her when she got older. She felt Vaughn needed someone his own age—an opinion Vaughn didn’t share.

  “Yes, Karina seems quite educated.”

  “Did she tell you her background?”

  “Not really.” Mia lifted her head. “In fact, she was reserved about it. Said something about her father being a tradesman back in Austria, where she’s from.”

  Mia stood and stretched. The spa door opened and footsteps clicked across the tile floor. Mia and Allison looked at each other, startled.

  Before Allison could say a word, the heavy wooden sauna door slammed open. Mazy Coyne stood before them. Her clothes were tattered and mud-streaked, her hair a wild mane around her head. Blood ran down the side of her cheek and crusted under her chin. She stared at them, lips quivering, her eyes the size of watermelons.

  Allison sprang to her feet. “Mazy? Mazy, what’s wrong?”

  “Did you fall?” Mia said. “Are you hurt?”

  Only Mazy didn’t move. She stood there, trembling.

  “I think she’s in shock.”

  It was then that Allison noticed Mazy held a backpack out in front of her with an iron grip.

  Allison tried to take the bag from the other woman. Mazy shook her head back and forth. A line of bloody drool ran down her chin. Her arm was straight, board-like. Allison tugged at the bag and Mazy wouldn’t let go.

  Mia ran out of the room and grabbed a white towel. She wrapped it around Mazy’s shoulders. “Come on, Mazy. What happened?” With her eyes she motioned for Allison to take the bag.

  This time Mazy released her backpack.

  The bag was heavy. Allison started to open it but leaves and twigs were stuck in the zipper.

  Mazy kept swinging her head back and forth. Her lips formed the word “no.”

  “Something’s stuck.” Allison tugged harder on the metal zipper. “I think I got it.”

  Like that, the zipper gave way. The front flap disengaged and something plopped out of the bag onto the tile floor.

  It took Allison’s brain a moment to register what the object was. She looked at Mazy, horrified. Mazy fainted. Mia, her hands clutching her towel, let out a howling scream.

  “It’s a severed hand,” Mia whispered. “A man’s, I think.”

  They both stared at the object on the floor. The skin was a ghoulish gray with deep plumb and black streaks running through what was left of the flesh. The fingers had been gnawed on by some woodland creature, as had the flesh along the forearm. The result looked like a bad Halloween costume. Allison felt
bile crawling up her throat.

  It was fifteen minutes before Mazy could form words. By that time, Allison had called the local police, and Balzan and his officers were on their way. Elle knew—she was the person Allison called after the police and Vaughn, but they didn’t want to alert anyone else at the castle. They didn’t know whose hand it was, or whether it was simply a hand—or if there was a body out there too. From the look of the hand, it had not been severed that day.

  Mia cradled a still-distraught Mazy while Allison made her tea. The story that unfolded from Mazy was uneventful. Until the finale.

  “I went for a walk by the old church ruins,” Mazy said. “I was working on the plot for a new book, and I was stuck.” She hiccupped. “I thought maybe some fresh air and a change of scenery would help. I heard something in the woods. I thought it was a deer or a fox, and I went off the trail. It felt good to get out. I kept walking, into the denser part of the forest. It was getting late, I should have known better.” She shut her eyes, her hands shaking. “Whatever it was had been digging and clawing at the ground. It ran as I approached. I saw a patch of what looked like freshly turned earth and something sticking up.”

  “It’s okay,” Mia said. “You don’t have to say anymore.”

  But Mazy was shaking her head vehemently from side to side, as though to speak was to purge the images in her head. She continued. “It was hazy and dark in the woods. I couldn’t make out what it was, and I never thought…Anyway, I bent to pick it up, and—well, you see the result.” Her eyes flew open. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer. “The animals uncovered the body part. I think there may be more there.”

  Mia said, “What makes you think that?”

  “Like I said, the earth looked freshly turned.” She stared at Allison with horror. “Someone had dug a grave.”

  THIRTY

  It was well after four on Sunday afternoon before Mia and Grace were allowed to leave the property and head to their room in the village. Mazy had been able to lead the inspector to the site in the woods where they found another hand and a severed head—Michael’s severed head. The remains of the rest of his body were unknown. Time of death had yet to be established, but an early estimate cleared Mia. She had not been in Italy when Michael was killed.