The Milburn Big Box Set

by Nancy McGovern

  “I think you’re overestimating my talents, Seth,” Nora said. “But even if you aren’t, why do you need them?”

  “Ayla,” Seth said. “I’ve been haunted by her for twenty-five years, and I need closure. You’re going to help me get it.”

  “Who was she?” Nora asked, her voice softening. Seth’s poise had fallen away as he said the woman’s name, and his breathing had become a little heavier. His eyes were moist now, as he remembered.

  “I was fifty-two years old when I met her. For a rock star, fifty-two is over the hill. You understand? I thought my best days were behind me. The world had moved on, and I hadn’t. Then Ayla walked into my life.”

  Nora stayed silent, watching him as he sipped the whiskey. His eyes grew distant and almost as though he were speaking to a ghost. He said, “I didn’t meet her until I was fifty-two, but the minute I did, I knew I’d been waiting for her all my life. She was my muse: strong:, confident, sparky and oh so beautiful.” He took out a worn sepia-toned photograph from his pocket, and handed it over to Nora. It was a group photo with two men, a boy and a woman. Behind them hung a banner declaring “Happy Birthday” and a chocolate cake, with a slice missing, stood on a plastic table. Seth was one of the men in the photo, wearing a thick red sweater and winking at the camera. He had his arm around the woman. The woman wasn’t a classic beauty--her jaw was just a little too thick, her cheekbones far too sharp. Yet even through the photo, her eyes seemed to bore a hole into Nora. There was a hint of a smile on her face, as though she knew something about the photographer no one else did. The second man, towering over Seth and the others, had his head tilted slightly, and although his body was pointed toward the camera, his eyes were focused on Ayla.

  “The men in the photo--this one’s you--and the other one’s Martin Schwartz, right?” Nora asked. “Much younger, but he’s still got that same giant-in-the-room look.”

  “That’s right.” A grin lit up Seth’s face. “You recognize the boy? It’s Ayla’s son Rafael.”

  Nora looked down at it and laughed. “Wow. Well, he sure changed.” The man she’d met earlier today was handsome as a model, short haired, eagle eyed, sophisticated and confident. The teen in the photo had his shoulders slumping forward, and eyes covered by floppy brown hair. He had the universal teenager look of wanting to be alone in his room instead of being forced into a boring party.

  “Yes. Rafael. He was seventeen then, Ayla had him young.” Seth bit his lip. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. As I was saying, Ayla was an excellent songwriter, and we met in the studio when I was producing my seventh album, Daisy Chain Gang.”

  “That was your last album with Victor,” Nora said thoughtfully. “Anything to do with Ayla?”

  “You’re sharp.” Seth nodded. “I didn’t think you’d make the connection. Yes. I fell in love with Ayla almost as soon as we met. I was an idiot, I know. Especially considering I’d been faithfully married to Lenu for ten years at that point. But when I met Ayla, I happily tossed it all away, just to be with her.”

  “Wow,” Nora said.

  “This photograph—” Seth tapped the photo again. “This was on my fifty-second birthday, and I’d separated from Lenu three days before it was taken. I’ll remember that night forever.”

  Nora nodded, knowing what was coming next.

  “It was the night my Ayla was murdered,” Seth said. “One of the people in this house killed her.”

  *****

  Chapter 4

  The Murder

  “It was the night of my birthday,” Seth said. “At the time, there wasn’t much going on in my life, career wise. We’d almost released our newest album, but I never knew it would bring me a second wave of popularity. As far as I was concerned, I was a has-been. I was a happy has-been, though. I was in love with Ayla, and that was all that mattered to me. I’d left Lenu three days ago, but I didn’t even care about her. I was so focused on enjoying my birthday dinner with my newfound girl. Love makes you selfish sometimes.”

  Nora didn’t agree with that. Choices made you selfish, not love, but she nodded anyway.

  “It was supposed to be just me and Ayla, but when I arrived, her teenager was there, too. I could tell Rafael wasn’t very happy to be hanging with us. Ayla seemed tense too. She’d grounded him because she found weed in his bedroom. She was furious at him, and he... well... he was a little too quick with the back talk for my taste. At any rate, they managed to be civil around me, and I held my tongue, too.”

  “Did Rafael dislike the fact that his mother was dating you?” Nora asked.

  Seth considered this. “I don’t know, honestly. Most teens who see me are at least a little starstruck. Rafael didn’t seem to care about me at all. He didn’t say more than two words through dinner, and he didn’t ask for my autograph or any tips on music or anything like that. We only had one conversation, and he tried to show me up by naming a few trendy new bands that he liked. He was actually surprised that I’d heard of them.” Seth’s lips curved. “Anyway, it was my birthday dinner, and I was more than a little miffed to be spending it with a seventeen-year-old boy as company, instead of a romantic date. I cheered up a little when Victor and Martin dropped in with some champagne. They were only planning to stay a little while, but as the night progressed, we all drank more and more, and it was clear we were in no condition to drive back home.”

  Nora nodded.

  “We decided the three of us would sleep at Ayla’s that night,” Seth said. “Around midnight--just after this photo was taken, as a matter of fact--someone began pounding at the door.” He shook his head. “I knew who it was immediately, but Ayla was scared. She was ready to call the police, and maybe I was a fool, because I stopped her.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Lenu,” Seth said. “Lenu was drunk out of her wits, and a screaming mess. Her hair was wild—and her eyes—they were shiny like a shark’s, with no emotion inside. As you can imagine, I did have some guilt about leaving her the way I did. So I urged Ayla not to call the police. In fact, I bought Lenu into the house and made her sit on the sofa. All the while, she was trying her best to scratch my face off, and cursing at Ayla, calling her names.”

  Nora shivered.

  “She passed out on the sofa soon enough,” Seth said. “By then, it was clear my birthday party was over. Ayla was really upset. She didn’t even bother clearing the table, or showing us where we could sleep. She went upstairs to her room, and locked the doors. The last thing she said to me, was, 'This mess better be gone when I come down tomorrow.'”

  “Ouch,” Nora said.

  “I wasn’t sure if she was referring to the mess we’d made while drinking, or Lenu lying on the sofa, or both.” Seth shrugged. “I was too drunk to care anyway. I went to the guest room adjoining the kitchen, and fell asleep.” He sighed. “By the time I woke up again, Ayla was dead.”

  “Was it you who found her body?” Nora asked.

  Seth shook his head. “I woke up at about four a.m., with Martin Schwartz shaking me awake. I remember the look on his face still, blank and fearful. He told me to come upstairs immediately, that something really bad had happened.”

  “And that’s when you found Ayla?”

  Seth nodded. “Victor said he woke up at three thirty a.m. to the sound of a gunshot, and a single scream from Ayla’s bedroom. He panicked, and ran out of his room. He’d been sleeping in the room opposite hers. Rafael slept next door to his mother, and he came out too, blinking and sleepy. Both ran to Ayla’s door, and began yelling for her to open up. Martin was sleeping in the room across Rafael’s, and the commotion woke him up. He ran out too, and when Ayla wouldn’t respond, he helped break down the door. Ayla was inside, dead. Gunshot to the head.”

  Nora shuddered.

  “The cops were quick to call it a suicide. The room was locked from the inside, after all. The key was found on the floor beside her nightstand. Never mind that Ayla’s room had an open window. Never mind that she had no reason to commi
t suicide! The detective handling her case said she probably felt guilty when Lenu called her a homewrecker, and killed herself.” Seth’s eyes were brimming with tears of rage. “That was it. Can you believe it? Life just… moved on. We all went our separate ways, and never met again. For the longest time, I was consumed with the need to know who had killed her. I hired a private detective, and he gathered a large file for me, but he could never come to any conclusions. He said it could have been a suicide. But he agreed that since Ayla’s bedroom window was open, it could also have been a murder. Victor, Martin, Rafael, Lenu- any one of them could easily have snuck into her room and killed her, then escaped through the window.”

  “You think one of them did,” Nora said. “But you never got the proof, did you?”

  Seth shook his head. “I’m still looking for it.”

  “It’s been twenty-five years,” Nora said. “What made you decide to host this party now, after all this time?”

  “Simple enough,” Seth said. “I’m dying, Nora.”

  His words hung in the air as Nora’s eyes widened. He gave her a pat on the shoulder, and a rueful smile. “Don’t look so sad about it. I’m seventy-seven. I’ve had a good life, and I’m not giving up quite yet. There’s been loads of advancements in medical treatments for cancer.”

  “But you don’t think they’ll do you any good, do you?” Nora asked.

  Seth shrugged. “Let’s just say I had two choices; waste away inside a hospital, or spend what time I could wrapping up the one thing I’ve left undone in my life. Getting justice for Ayla.”

  Nora nodded. “So that’s why you set up this birthday party?”

  Seth nodded. “I don’t care about the police, really. Ayla’s murderer has already lived twenty-five years without paying for his…or her…crime. I just need to know. I just want to look into the eyes of her murderer so that I can live in peace for the rest of my life, however short that is.”

  “So what’s your plan?” Nora asked.

  “At dinner, I’m going to remind everyone of that day twenty-five years ago,” Seth said. “Then, I’m going to tell them I have new proof—that DNA technology has caught up—and that my private investigator had gathered old DNA samples from Ayla that I plan to forward to the police.”

  Nora narrowed her eyes. “A bluff.”

  “A good bluff,” Seth said. He leaned forward, his excitement palpable. “Your job, when I make this bluff, is to look around the table and spot who did it. Even if it’s only for a small moment, you’ll see fear on the murderer’s face, won’t you? That’ll be enough for me! Like I said, I don’t really care about putting them behind bars. I just need to know.”

  “Not justice, but curiosity,” Nora said. “That’s funny, to me. If I’d loved Ayla the way you had, I’d want more.”

  “I’ll take what I can get,” Seth said. “I know justice isn’t likely.”

  A crash of thunder made both of them jump slightly. It had been two hours since they’d come to the building, and the rain had only grown worse all along. Seth got up now, and headed to the windows, peeking outside. “Can’t see a foot ahead of me,” he said. “River’s going to flood at this rate!”

  Nora stood by his shoulder, and nodded. “We get torrents like this sometimes. Last time it happened was in '92, and the roads had waist-level water!”

  “You must have been a kid back then,” Seth smiled.

  Nora nodded. “It was actually the most fun I’ve had in my life. My best friend Raquel and I spent the entire day perfecting paper boats and swimming around. I didn’t realize until later that two people in our town actually drowned due to the floods. They got carried away by the river while laying down sand bags to prevent the flood.”

  “Terrible,” Seth said. “Nature is a cruel lady.”

  Nora nodded. “She’s unpredictable, Seth. Just like human nature. For what it’s worth, I don’t think your plan is going to work.”

  “Why not!” Seth exclaimed. “I’ve probably got them spooked already. Victor was furious with me.”

  “That’s another thing I didn’t quite understand,” Nora said. “Why was Victor furious?”

  “What do you mean?” Seth asked, his eyes shifting away from hers.

  “Victor was just a bystander in Ayla’s death, wasn’t he? He was just your bandmate, not her lover. Why would the sight of you, and the mention of her death, affect him so badly all these years later?”

  “That’s what I want to find out, isn’t it?” Seth said, his voice grim. “Victor was never right in the head after Ayla died. He was always a sensitive type, you know. It’s a cliché, but some of us musicians tend to be.”

  Nora nodded. “You were even marketed that way. You were the tough guy of the band, loved by all the girls. Victor was the sensitive soul, loved by the artists and diehard fans. Your drummer, James was… well… less popular than you two.”

  “Bless his soul,” Seth laughed. “Yes, that’s exactly right. Well, anyway, I guess Victor was deeply affected by Ayla’s death. Even though the album we released catapulted us back into the spotlight, he quit the band, quit music, and went off to work on a farm. A farm! Can you believe it?”

  “Do you believe he killed her?” Nora asked.

  Seth’s eyes got that faraway look again. He bit his lip. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve carried the suspicion inside me for twenty-five years. Today, one way or another, I intend to find out!” With that, he excused himself, and headed upstairs to change, leaving Nora alone in the kitchen, with instructions on how to make dinner.

  *****

  Chapter 5

  The Echoing Shot

  Mulling over everything Seth had just told her, Nora began to prepare dinner. Seth had said he wanted to recreate the dinner Ayla had made all those years ago. Nora had about two hours till eight p.m., when the guests would all gather for dinner. Muttering to herself about eccentric clients, Nora began to boil water for the pasta while simultaneously buttering the cake pans and dusting them with flour. Seth had certainly been odd and secretive about the menu, but Nora appreciated that he’d gone to great lengths to get her the best ingredients. The cocoa powder, for example, was imported from a Swiss confiseur, and the butter was unbranded, presumably fresh from a nearby farm. The fettuccine he’d provided for the main dish was Italian, as was the high quality olive oil and truffle oil in the pantry. He really was going all out to make this a memorable party. Still, Nora, as always, was determined to add her own twist to the cake. She mixed the dry ingredients together, then slowly added eggs, buttermilk and warm water to the mixture, along with some melted butter. Once the batter was ready and popped into the oven, she began mixing cream and lemon together to make the sauce that would coat the fettuccine, and grilling the sausages that would accompany it.

  The fettuccine had been drained and the cake layers were cooling on wire racks when she heard the gunshot. The loud report seemed to ring through the house, drowning out the sound of the incessant rain outside. Nora jumped as she heard it, and her eyes instantly darted to the stairs. For a confused second, she wondered if it could have been thunder she heard, then the uproar from upstairs had her changing her mind.

  She could hear Lenu screaming, and heavy footsteps as the men rushed out of their rooms. Throwing her apron to the ground, Nora ran up, taking the stairs two at a time in her rush. She nearly tripped at the very top, and managed to just right herself. In front of her, Lenu was on her knees, sobbing, while Martin Schwartz held her in his burly arms, commiserating. Rafael stood by the door of a room, trembling slightly, one hand held to his mouth. Victor and Seth were nowhere to be seen.

  Fearing the worst, Nora pushed past Victor and stepped into the room. Seth’s room. Seth Sultan, once a world- famous rock star, now lay on the carpet with a pool of blood slowly forming under him. A pistol was clenched in his hand, and a red hole visible in the very center of his forehead.

  Victor was standing next to him, looking blank and dazed. Nora could barely breath
e. Seth was dead, no doubt about it. She leaned down and checked his pulse anyway, hoping against hope that a miracle might have occurred. His hands were cold. She frowned a little. There were pen marks on his hand, his left hand. The telltale smudge of ink that left handers often receive as their hand trails along in the ink of freshly created letters. The gun, however, lay in his right hand.

  She saw Rafael take a step forward into the room. She dropped her eyes and noticed that his shoes were wet. Funny, she hadn’t seen him come downstairs.

  “He’s dead, isn’t he?” Rafael asked. “Oh my God, we have to call the police.”

  “Lines are down,” Martin said, from outside the door. “I tried already. One of us should go to the main lobby and alert the men there. They’ll know what to do.”

  “I don’t know if we’ll be able to,” Rafael said. “The river was swollen enough when we arrived, and there’s only a thin bridge connecting us. By now, it’ll be impossible to get across.”

  Nora stood up, and looked around the room.

  The room was spacious, with portraits of men in suits hung all over it. There was a four-poster bed on one end, so huge that it had a small set of stairs to climb up before you could sleep on it. Underneath, she saw a red suitcase and a smaller black duffel bag. Opposite the bed stood a magnificent writing desk, and a leather chair. The body, however, was lying in front of the door, as though Seth had been standing when the bullet entered him. Nora walked over to the desk, and looked at it. A notepad stood in its very center, with a piece of paper torn off. A fountain pen lay next to it. A fresh gust of air made her shiver a little. The window behind the desk was wide open, and drops of water were slicing their way into the room. Nora walked over, not sure if she wanted to close the window and help prevent the notepad from getting soaked, or whether she wanted to follow protocol and leave the scene of the crime undisturbed. Her eyes grew a little wider as she looked outside. The rain was already washing it off, but there was a very distinct boot print on the ledge outside. Hastily, she whipped out her phone and took a photo.