Kate looked like she wanted to say something, but instead she slowly shook her head. “No, I was never there then. She had a maid, though. I'll bet Titus would remember her name. If she's still around, still alive, she'd know.”
Dorothy smiled. “Yeah. I don't know why I didn't think of that. Magus's housekeeper lives in town in little house Magus had bought for her. I'll bet she'd know.”
“It's not Helene Tierry, is it?”
“You knew her?”
Kate appeared to pause before she said, “Emma told me about her. That she was very kind to her. Our mother died when we were young, you know. I think Helene tried to help Emma cope with things. Emma realized it later and was grateful. I'd like to see her, thank her on Emma's behalf.”
“She'd like that. I stopped in and saw her the first day I was back. She helped me, too, but she never talked about my mother. And I never asked her. It never occurred to me she was there then. I wonder why she never said anything.”
“Probably because she knew too much,” Kate said dryly.
“Poor Mom. Poor Helene,” Dorothy said, softly. She smiled at Kate. “Thank you.”
Kate's answering smile was a bit dewy, but her face closed again as she looked past Dorothy.
“Here's your friend and Titus now.” Kate looked quizzically at Dorothy. “Do you like him, your Remy?”
Dorothy felt color surge into her cheeks. “Yes, I do.” It was both a lie and the truth. Weird. But then, her life hadn't been normal for a long time.
She waved at them, feeling her heart leap in her throat at Remy's approach. It was going to have to stop doing that. It wasn't good for it. Remy smiled at her and it leapt again. The heedless thing. Did it have no sense of survival?
Remy and Titus pulled out chairs and sat down. The waitress rushed over and took their orders and brought their drinks before bustling away and finally leaving them alone.
“What did you find out?” Dorothy asked. “Was it suicide?”
“The cops aren't sure,” Remy said. “He had good reason to take his life.”
“What do you mean?” Dorothy looked from him to Titus.
“There was a photocopy of a contract on his desk,” Titus said.
“Contract?” Dorothy's throat went dry.
“Between him and Verrol Vance for the death of Magus Merlinn,” Remy said.
Dorothy sagged back in her chair. “So he's the one.” Something in Remy's face told her there was more, though. “What?”
“In the contract, it spelled out the consequences to Bubba Joe if anything happened to Vonda.”
Dorothy stared at Remy. “So, someone else killed her? But why?”
Titus shrugged. “Someone else could have found out and killed her to bring him down. Someone who hated him. Or maybe someone was afraid of something else that Vance might have told her, something unrelated. Vance
was
a hired killer.”
Dorothy exchanged a troubled look with Remy. It was hard for her to believe it was all some awful, yet fortuitous coincidence that Bubba Joe had been exposed. “What do you think?” she asked Remy.
“I find it hard to believe Bubba Joe had enough money to keep Vance quietly in jail until he could pardon him.”
“Do you think he was framed?” Kate asked.
“No,” Remy shook his head. “He was in it up to his eye balls. But was he in it alone?”
Titus snorted derisively. “So what, you think it was some big conspiracy?”
Remy shook his head again. “No, but what if it were a small one? Darius Smith, Bozo Luc and Bubba Joe Henry all had good reason to want Magus out of the way.”
“They'd never work together,” Titus scoffed, but Dorothy could see he was intrigued by the idea.
“What if they didn't know about each other? What if Vance approached them? Or they each approached him on their own? If he had people throwing money at him to kill the same person, I'll bet he'd take it and think it was funny.” He leaned forward. “In the agreement he had with Bubba Joe, there was a timer that kicked in if Vonda died. Now we find that agreement on his desk and he's dead. Do I think he killed himself? No.”
“You think someone has...” Dorothy hesitated, looking for the right word. “Executed the consequences in the agreement with Bubba Joe?”
“Yeah, I do,” Remy said.
Titus looked troubled.
“But, let's say you're right, then wouldn't that mean that the other men were in danger, too? Because if that's the case, then we can just sit back and let events unfold, can't we?” Dorothy said.
“There's just one problem,” Remy said, his gaze sober and worried.
“What?”
“They're all likely to think
you're
the one behind this. That's probably why Bubba Joe wanted to talk to you this evening.”
Unfortunately, he made a lot of sense. Who else had as much to gain from the situation as she did? “But I couldn't have killed him. I was with Titus.”
“I know you didn't do it. I'm telling you what they might think. They'd know you have the resources to hire someone to take care of things for you. It's what they'd do in your place.” Remy's face was grim, his body tense. “And if they feel threatened, they're likely to strike first.”
Dorothy looked at Kate, her eyes widening. Then she turned and pulled the letter out of her purse.
“What's that?” Remy asked.
“Bozo dropped it off a few minutes ago. Maybe it's his first strike.” Dorothy stared at it.
Call me
, he'd said, confident she would. She bit her lip, then slid her finger under the flap and loosened it. She removed the sheet of paper inside and unfolded it. She had to read it twice before it sunk in what it was. She could feel her eyes widen and then narrow.
“What is it?” Kate asked, sounding worried.
“It's my paternity test.” She glanced up. “According to this Magus wasn't my father.”
THIRTEEN
* * * *
Darius felt uncharacteristically relaxed. He was even reclining. He couldn't remember the last time he'd used his recliner the way it was intended to be used. Oh, he felt mild regret that he'd had to kill Cassandra, too, but it was overshadowed by the deep contentment both deaths had given him.
Now
he felt satisfied.
He sighed and stretched. He didn't need Emma's memory anymore. He had something better, something immediate that he could use to fill that void. Idly he wondered how long the feeling would last before he would have to kill again. Because he would kill again. He knew that now. It was, at the moment, the only thing he knew for sure.
He needed to consider what he would tell the police. They'd been seen together at lunch. That was certain. He'd already made sure there was no video of him entering the hotel room. Only Cassandra would be on the tape. She'd be seen leaving and then returning. He'd left the pictures of them together, but had been careful to remove any with him in them and destroy them. It would have been nice to keep one, as a memento of his first real kill, but it would also be incredibly foolish. It wasn't like he was some demented serial killer. He was just a man who liked to kill.
For so many years he'd sought power, but always out of sight, always indirectly. This was very direct and completely urgent. What could be more fulfilling than power of life and death? Yes, life was part of it. Each time, the first thrill would be in the choosing. Would he let her live? And then there would be the building anticipation for that moment when he decided death must come. Then the sublime rush as life ebbed and flowed between his hands, contentment when it slowly faded away. It was much better than sex. Sex was so untidy and messy. Death was clean and swift and sure.
There was, of course, great risk, but if properly managed, risk could be reduced. And, he had to admit, the risk was part of the thrill.
He and the grim reaper had gone into business together and it wasn't costing him a thing. He smiled to himself. Not even his sleep. He breathed deeply and then reluctantly sat up. As good as this was, it didn't solve the puzzle of Dorothy.
He'd told Suzanne she might be involved as a way to toy with her, but the idea, once planted in his mind, had taken root. What if she was the timer or the recipient of the information? What if she had also hired Vance and he'd told her about the other partners? She'd be sitting pretty if any one of them went down for the murder. Just the sympathy alone would help propel Mistral into the mansion, particularly if they married.
For a moment he toyed with the idea of Dorothy as his next victim, but she was too like Emma. Even in his imagination, he couldn't do it. Unless she became unreasonable. The ideal, the most expedient plan would be for them to become allies.
His gaze narrowed. What did he mean by that? He closed his eyes, trying to picture Dorothy. Where would she be if they were aligned? Suzanne had used her body to build a pact with him. He saw her again in the bed, her arms reaching for him. Then the picture shifted and it was Dorothy in bed, reaching for him.
Well, why not? Her mother had come to him. She wasn't his daughter. It wasn't illegal. It would take some persuading. She'd have to realize it was the expedient thing to do. She seemed to have attached herself to Mistral. And if he were eliminated? He couldn't do it himself, of course. He didn't want to. There'd be precious little pleasure to be had in any encounter with Mistral. The man was a cretin. A fool.
It must be done quickly, before she could become any more attached to him. Her period of mourning must be, of necessity, short. Last time, she'd gone into seclusion. That would work for him, only this time, he'd arrange her seclusion. She might be angry at first, but over time, she'd come around. It would be just recompense for her mother's abandonment of him. Emma owed him. He realized that now. She'd used him to get back at Magus. Her daughter must pay her debt for her. It was only right and proper. In time, she'd understand that and come to welcome the opportunity he was providing her. It was better than being dead.
The phone rang, breaking into his thoughts. He frowned, waiting for the caller ID to show up. Bozo? He picked up the receiver.
“Yes?”
“Did you hear about Bubba Joe?” Bozo asked him, his voice veering between excitement and worry.
“What about him?” Darius wasn't really interested in Bubba Joe right now. His mind was filled with thoughts of Dorothy, in his house, in his bed. He'd have the best of both worlds. Death and life.
“He's dead.”
That got his attention. “How?”
“It looked like suicide, but the cops aren't sure yet. He was found with documents that tied him to Vance. He hired Vance to kill Magus, or at least that's what the documents indicate.”
Darius already knew that part, but his death was...troubling. “Why do they suspect foul play? If he was going to be revealed, coupled with his wife's murder today, suicide seems almost logical, even for a selfish bastard like Bubba Joe.”
“They aren't saying, but if he was murdered, there's only one person with a real motive.”
Darius stiffened. “Dorothy.”
* * * *
The police were waiting for Dorothy when she and Remy arrived back at Oz. They were ahead of Titus and Kate. Both had errands to run. Dorothy was exhausted, frustrated and worried about the paternity test, but she greeted them with outward calm and ushered them into the front parlor. She offered seats and refreshment. Both were accepted. The niceties were observed and then the gloves came off.
The lead detective, who had identified himself as Burrows, said, “I'm afraid I'm going to need you to account for your movements this evening, from about five o'clock on.”
Dorothy nodded. She'd expected this. If the bad guys suspected her, of course, the cops would. “Let's see. I think I left here with Titus around five thirty. We have security tapes that should verify the exact time. I know my appointment with Mr. Henry was for six o'clock. We drove straight to his house and found him...deceased. I left to meet my aunt in town and Titus stayed to speak with you.”
“Titus is...?”
“My bodyguard.”
“You shouldn't have left the scene, ma'am,” his partner said.
“It's not like I left the country, Detective Kyle,” Dorothy said. “You knew right where to find me. And I didn't see anything. Titus wouldn't let me. He said it wasn't pretty.”
“What was your meeting with the deceased concerning?” Burrows asked.
“Mr. Henry said he had something of my mother's that he thought I'd like to have.”
“What was it?” Kyle asked.
“I don't know. He never said and since the meeting never took place...” Dorothy shrugged, letting the sentence trail off into silence.
“Did you suspect him of involvement in your father's death?” Burrows asked.
“Yes.” Dorothy tilted her head to the side, enjoying the effect of her simple declaration on the two men. Clearly, they'd expected her to dissemble.
“Why did you suspect him?” Kyle asked this question.
“Because I didn't like him. He was rather...icky.”
Both men nodded like they understood, but their eyes told a different story. She thought Kyle wrote down “icky.” She exchanged a quick grin with Remy, before assuming serious again before they looked up again.
“You offered a lot of money for information about your father's death,” Burrows said.
“I offered
Vance
a lot of money,” Dorothy corrected him.
Burrows nodded. “This is a list of items we found at the scene. Do any of them look like they could have been your mother's?”
Dorothy took the list and studied it carefully before slowly shaking her head. “To be honest, detective, I wouldn't know what I was looking for anyway. As I said, he never told me what it was.”
“And Titus will verify your story, I'm sure.” Burrows sounded resigned.
“I'm afraid so.”
“And your aunt...”
“...should be along soon. And I'm sure Titus will be, too. She'll confirm that I did, indeed, meet her for supper.”
Burrows looked unsatisfied, but he nodded and stood up. “If we have any further questions, we can contact you?”
“Of course, detective.” Dorothy stood, too. She wanted to ask about the contract, but that would reveal too much knowledge. The maid ushered them out, leaving her and Remy alone. She wanted to go to his arms. It was like an ache in her mid-section. She didn't. She straightened her back an inch more and asked, “Do you think that contract was real?”