Allison Campbell Mystery Series Boxed Set: Books 1-4

by Wendy Tyson

  “But it must have been something else. Something that would elicit this result.” Elle turned her head toward the window. “She must have wanted me doped up. But why?”

  “So you would seem unstable? On drugs.” Allison said. “To discredit you.”

  Elle placed a hand over her mouth. “If Hilda did this to me, is it possible she’s been drugging my father?”

  “He was sick before she came, wasn’t he?” Vaughn asked.

  “He’s only deteriorated over the last year or so. The last few months have been the worst.”

  Which is when Hilda arrived, Allison thought, about a year ago.

  “Vaughn, did Jamie send you the results from his new software?”

  “I don’t know. I never had a chance to check.”

  “Why don’t you go check now? And forward him the list of drugs Sam is taking. I’ll stay here with Elle and start to go through the information she pulled about the foundation’s rejected applicants. Maybe there is some link to our friend the nurse.”

  Allison watched Vaughn go. She wasn’t just thinking about Elle and Sam, she was thinking of Grace, and all the exposure Hilda had to her niece. Allison had a reason to get to the bottom of this. She recognized the feeling creeping around the edges of her head as guilt. How could she be a mother if she couldn’t even keep her niece safe? Maybe things were working out for the best. One way or another, she needed answers.

  Vaughn was gone for almost an hour. In that time, Elle and Allison poured through hundreds of pages of application materials. Despite the medication she’d taken two hours prior, Allison’s head throbbed, the pills barely keeping the migraine at bay. Nevertheless, she flipped through page after page of rejections. Nothing rang a bell or raised a red flag.

  “These are all over the place,” Allison said finally. She tossed another set of materials on the table and sat back in her chair. “Some real sob stories are rejected. Applications for life-saving medications or amazing business ideas. How do they decide?”

  “It’s whatever strikes their fancy. Each board member has a say, and he can advocate for the ones he wants to grant.”

  “And that’s it? There’s no other criteria?”

  Elle glanced up from the page she was reading. “Not that I know of. Some of the board members have their pet projects. They tend to grant awards for those things. Damien, for one, liked to help children. He was a sucker for anything that assisted underprivileged children. Or sick kids.”

  “What if there is disagreement amongst the ranks?”

  “I don’t think there usually is. But if it happens, I guess my father has the last say. While Jeremy and Douglas’s father contributed to the operation, most of the money will come from my father.”

  “Will come? I thought the money was already in the trust?”

  “Something to do with how the charity is set up. For estate planning purposes. Sam donates to the trust on an annual basis.”

  “And if your father dies before it’s all given to the foundation?”

  Elle held Allison’s gaze. “I get the rest.” She slammed the package she was working on down on the desk. “Is that what you want to hear? Yes, it’s mine. Every last cent now that Michael is dead. If I choose to take it, that is.”

  Allison studied her client, trying to decide how to react. “Do you have anything to do with any of this?”

  “Of course not.”

  A low rumble reverberated through the thick walls of the castle. Light flashed outside the arched window next to Elle’s desk.

  “Do you believe me?”

  Allison took off her reading glasses. “Elle, I don’t know what to believe anymore. These deaths could be connected by something as basic as jealousy—a love triangle we’re unaware of—or the culprit could be someone we haven’t even thought of. Someone not here.”

  “But you don’t think so.” Elle’s voice was quiet, hard. “You think the killer is here.”

  Allison hesitated. “I do.” She sighed. “And no, I don’t think it’s you.”

  A loud bang reverberated outside Elle’s rooms, followed by a yell. Allison sprung up, her fight or flight instinct kicking in. In the hall, someone shouted. There was a knock on the door.

  “What the hell?” Elle stood close to the locked door. “Who is it?”

  “Your father.”

  Elle and Allison looked at each other. Sam sounded…normal. Elle opened the door. Sam Norton stood there. He wore blue cotton pajamas and brown leather slippers. He was also sopping wet. The light in his eyes was clear and focused. This man was not confused. He was frightened.

  “Elle, let me in.”

  “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

  “Let me in.” He pushed his way into the room and locked the door behind him. It took him a moment to register Allison’s presence. “Why is she here?”

  “This is Allison, remember? She’s helping me.”

  With a brief nod at Allison, Sam took Elle by the arm. “Look, you need to get out of here. Now. And you need to take me with you.”

  “We can’t leave. The inspector said—”

  “To hell with the inspector.” Sam’s eyes searched the room frantically. “Do you have a car?” he asked Allison.

  Allison nodded.

  “Then let’s leave. Now. They’re here, and they’re going to take me. Please.”

  Sam made a low moaning sound. Elle caught Allison’s attention behind her father’s back. She shook her head back and forth. Her expression said “see how he is?”

  “Who is coming, Mr. Norton?” Allison asked.

  “Them. The aliens. The rocket men. The bad guys. Call them what you will.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “She did.” His eyes watered. “She said it’s time. And I believe her.”

  Allison took the agitated man’s hand. At first he pulled away. She took it again, drawing on her years of working with teens in a psychiatric setting. With a firm voice, she said, “Who is she?”

  “There’s no time.”

  Allison repeated the question. “Tell me, Sam. Who is she?”

  “She says she would know.”

  Elle moved closer. “What else did she tell you?”

  Sam’s eyes watered. “That my son is dead.”

  Again, Elle and Allison locked eyes. “Was it Hilda who told you that, Daddy?”

  Sam started shaking. A bony hand raised forward, pointing at the door. “They’re here.”

  Allison followed his gesture. Vaughn stood there, laptop bag in one hand, Karina by his right arm. Hilda sagged behind Karina.

  “Come on, Sam,” Karina crooned. “Come with me. It’ll be okay.” She threw an apologetic look at Elle. “I told Hilda not to let him out of her sight.”

  Hilda didn’t look much better than her patient. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

  Elle frowned. “Is there an officer with him? Balzan’s men are supposed to be here.”

  The two women exchanged a glance.

  “There is not,” Karina said. “Mazy heard something outside by her cottage. The police went to investigate.”

  “It’s storming,” Elle said. “Who would be out there now?”

  Karina let out a huff of disgust. “Really? With everything that has gone on here, someone sneaking around in the dark should not be surprising.”

  “Everyone should come into the castle,” Vaughn said. “With the police. For tonight, at least.”

  Elle nodded. She looked at Karina. “Can you ask Dominic to make the rounds? Ask our guests to join us here, at least for tonight? The castle has a backup generator in case we lose electricity. That can be his excuse.”

  Karina agreed. “Let me help Hilda get your father settled first.”

  As the two women neared Sam, he let out a scream like an animal about to be butchered. “Ell
e, don’t let them take me.” He stared at Vaughn.

  It dawned on Allison that Sam never met Vaughn. She explained who he was.

  “They’re still coming.” He looked toward Hilda and Karina. “You said they’re coming.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hilda said soothingly. “You need your medication.”

  With that, they left.

  “Should we follow them?” Elle said.

  “You stay here. Vaughn and I will go. Just keep the door locked.”

  Vaughn glanced at his watch. “And get ready to greet your guests.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  “How exactly do you expect to follow them?” Vaughn asked. “This place is quiet as a tomb. They’ll hear us, for sure.”

  “We’re not following them, Vaughn.” Allison led Vaughn down the hall, toward the center staircase. She listened as Karina, Hilda, and Sam’s footsteps echoed against marble, waited for the click of Sam’s doors. “Sam’s rooms are right next to Elle’s. Once we know they made it inside—and they have, I think—we’ll be making a different trip.”

  They walked downstairs quietly, then darted through the arch that led into the lower south side of the castle. “Traditionally the servants’ quarters. This is where Hilda and Karina’s rooms are.”

  Vaughn nodded. “You want to search their rooms?”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “No, but they’re surely locked.”

  “I guess we’ll take that chance.”

  Vaughn smiled. He held up a set of keys and swung them back and forth. “Just a game of trial and error.”

  “Where’d you get those?”

  “I was doing some exploring myself.”

  “I was wondering what was taking you so long.”

  Vaughn slowed. He whispered. “Jamie was trying to send me files but they wouldn’t go through. I went in search of Dominic to see if he could get the internet working. I couldn’t find him, but I did find these in his workshop behind the kitchen.”

  Allison wondered where the caretaker was. Increasingly, she thought Vaughn’s idea of having everyone at the castle was a good one.

  They came upon a small wooden door. Allison tried it. “Locked. Want to give it a go?”

  Vaughn tried key after key while Allison kept watch. The hall lights flickered.

  “Hurry,” Allison urged.

  Vaughn inserted another key. This one seemed to fit. He turned it and the door opened with a gentle creak. The interior was dark.

  “Come on,” Allison hissed. She used her phone to find a light. Vaughn closed the door and Allison turned on a wall sconce. They were in a large room, about twenty by twenty. The ceilings were high, the windows narrow, and the furnishings sparse. One wall was lined with bookshelves, each shelf crammed with reference books. A plain Scandinavian-style desk sat against one wall, under the windows. A chair and a small side table had been placed in front of the shelves. Two medical journals sat on the small table, their titles in German.

  “This must be Hilda’s room,” Allison whispered. “Let’s check out the bedroom.”

  The back room housed a simple bed. It was low and functional and sat on a beech-wood platform. The blankets were white and no-nonsense. A small beech table sat next to the bed, and a chair stood next to that. A book—the one Hilda had been carrying the day Allison asked her about the drug she’d given Elle—was sitting on the chair. A white robe hung on a hook by the window. One door led into a tiny closet, the other a small bathroom.

  “Not much to go on,” Vaughn said. “Ready to move on?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  Allison looked through the bathroom, ignoring a sense of urgency that was quickly bearing down. The bathroom consisted of a toilet, a pedestal sink, a small cabinet, a bidet, and a bathtub. The cabinet was locked.

  Disappointed, Allison headed back toward the entrance. As she passed Vaughn, who was nosing through the closet, she stopped short.

  He said, “What’s wrong? You look concerned.”

  “I assumed this was Hilda’s room. But I’ve never seen Hilda wear a dirndl.” And this closet was filled with traditional Austrian garb.

  “So maybe it’s Karina’s.”

  “Maybe.” But the book Hilda had been carrying bothered her. She’d seemed protective of it at the time, as though it was special to her. Allison walked over to it. She took a snapshot so she’d remember its exact position. Then she picked it up and paged through it. There were notes here and there, but everything was in German. She placed it back on the chair.

  “Maybe Hilda lent it to Karina,” Allison said to herself.

  “Huh?” Vaughn stepped out of the closet and closed the door.

  Before Allison could answer, Vaughn’s phone beeped. He glanced at it.

  “Jamie. Says the medications are normal for dementia patients. Also said he sent the reports on Hilda and Karina through again.” He looked around, hands on hips. “Want to keep going?”

  “Sure, although we should hurry before Elle gets suspicious.” Or before someone finds us down here.

  The next set of rooms were empty. The set at the back of the hall housed only a single bedroom with an en suite bath. This room had more character. Women’s fashion magazines had been spread around the desk and on the dresser. Works of fiction in German, Italian, and English lined a single bookshelf. Other than a stethoscope hanging from a hook near the door, there was no sign that a nurse lived here.

  “Anything seem odd to you?” Vaughn asked.

  Allison stared at a picture on the bedside table. It depicted an older couple. They wore similar gray fisherman’s sweaters and jeans and were leaning on bicycles. Neither smiled.

  “The woman looks like Hilda,” Allison said. “She has her eyes.”

  Outside, lightning flashed. The sky tore open and rain pelted the windows, running in rivulets down the long, narrow panes. The lights flickered twice, then they remained off.

  “Damn,” Vaughn muttered. He fumbled with his phone until he found the flashlight application. He flicked it on. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Allison used her own flashlight to make sure everything was as it had been. She wouldn’t have envisioned Hilda with fashion magazines. But then, she wouldn’t have envisioned herself here at all.

  Back in Elle’s rooms, Allison used her phone to check in on Mia and Grace. They were in their room in Bidero and doing fine. Then she tried to reach Jason. He didn’t answer his phone. She hung up, frustrated. She sent him a text to say there’d been more trouble at the castle and could he call her later.

  Elle had finished going through the rejected applications. “Look,” she said. “I don’t know what you thought you’d find, but there’s nothing here. At least nothing that means anything to me.”

  Allison repeated what Jeremy told her the original letter had said. “Worst of the wealthy. Ruin lives. That sounds like someone who felt wronged by the foundation, Elle. None of those names ring a bell?”

  She shook her head. “Not one.” She climbed out of her chair and picked up the battery-operated lantern that had been illuminating her room. “I need to check on my father. I don’t like the way he was when he left.”

  Allison agreed. “We saw him go back into his rooms.”

  Elle looked like she wanted to ask where they’d gone, but instead she pulled a sweater out of her bag. “Can you go greet the others? Karina called to say they’re all in the grand ballroom. Chef is making some cold food to put out. Karina is trying to find Dominic, so he can get the generator running. It’s supposed to go on automatically.”

  “Where’s Hilda?”

  “With my dad, I guess.”

  “Vaughn,” Allison said. “Why don’t you go let the others know Elle will be down soon? I’ll go with Elle.”

  He nodded. “I want to see i
f Jamie’s reports came through anyway.”

  Allison checked the battery on her phone. Almost fully charged. “Text me when you hear something,” she said.

  Allison watched Vaughn disappear into the dark hall. Then she joined Elle, and they trekked down the hall toward her father’s rooms.

  Sam’s rooms were empty.

  “Dad?” Elle called out. “Hilda?”

  The darkness in Sam’s rooms felt suffocating. So did the stench. It was like urine and vomit and lavender all rolled into one nauseating mix.

  “What the hell,” Elle said. “Hilda!”

  A thorough search of the rooms turned up nothing. “I think we should find Balzan’s men,” Allison said.

  “You think something happened to my father?”

  Thinking of Jeremy’s warning, of Sam’s agitation earlier, Allison gripped her phone harder. She wished she had something more substantial than that little device and a Swiss Army Knife.

  “Do you want to risk it?” Allison asked. “We should alert the police.”

  Elle called Hilda. There was no answer. “I’m worried. Do you really think Hilda could hurt my father?”

  Allison thought of the drugs, of Sam’s ominous words. She thought of people with access and opportunity. She thought of motive—and that’s where she came up short. “I just don’t know.”

  Elle looked around again. Even in the dark shadows, Allison could make out her face. She looked scared. No. She looked terrified.

  THIRTY-THREE

  The thunder and lightning wouldn’t let up. Allison glanced outside. She saw something glowing in the distance, something red and orange that flickered in the trees.

  “Forest fire,” Allison said. To Elle, she said, “I don’t know who you call for forest fires around here, but we’d better find out.”

  Elle looked outside. Her jaw tensed. “Do you think it was set purposefully?”

  The fire was high up, past the church ruins, near the closest ridge. “Up there? No. Lighting would be my guess.”

  They watched the flames for a moment before Elle said, “I can’t reach Balzan or Dominic. I hate to ask you, but can you help me scour the castle? In case he’s somewhere inside.”