TWENTY-TWO

  

By the time they returned to the castle, Balzan had left, but his translator was still packing up in the makeshift office he’d set up inside.

“Can I help you?” Julia asked when Allison poked her head inside.

“I need to speak with Inspector Balzan.”

“I’m afraid he won’t be back for another day or so.”

“Can you tell him I need to talk with him?”

The translator put down the file she’d been organizing. “What would you like to discuss?”

“I’d rather wait for the inspector.”

“I see.” Julia completed her task of straightening the files. She placed them one by one in a leather case, stopping only when the last one was away and the sturdy container was locked. She looked up as though surprised Allison was still standing there.

“So will you give the inspector my message?” Allison asked. “That I need to speak with him?”

“I won’t see him until tomorrow. If it’s urgent, you should call him straight away.”

“He doesn’t speak English. I’m not sure what good a call would do.”

“Ah, yes.” Julia fumbled with her phone. “It is urgent, then?”

“No, not urgent,” Allison said, her blood pressure climbing. “I’d just like to speak with him.”

Julia gave her a blank stare. Clearly in her world things were either an emergency or not important at all—there was no in between. After a moment, Julia punched a text message into her phone. The phone beeped a few seconds later.

“Inspector Balzan says to meet him at the station tomorrow at eleven in the morning. I’ll be there to translate.”

Allison nodded. “Where is the station?”

“Up the mountain road, past the church. There is a festival going on now. Listen for the music. Go past it and you will see the station on your left.”

Allison agreed, no clearer on where to find Inspector Balzan than she had been before Julia shared her directions. Nevertheless, she bid the translator goodbye and headed back to the cottage.

  

Vaughn called the moment she got inside. Mia had left a note taped to the back door: she, Grace, and Jason were getting her settled into her own cottage down the path. Allison was to meet them there.

Allison ran a bath while she spoke to Vaughn. The water, crystal clear and free of the chlorine smell and bluish coloration of her city water back home, cascaded into the claw foot tub, enveloped by an inviting head of steam. She stripped her clothes off while she listened to Vaughn explain what he’d found about Pay It Forward.

“It’s definitely legit,” Vaughn said. “I have to hand it to Sam Norton. If his goal is to die poor, he’s making progress.” Vaughn paused. “They’ve given away millions.”

“To how many recipients?”

“You wondering if there are just a few very lucky donors? Hold on.”

Allison heard some muffled one-sided conversation that was likely Vaughn talking with his brother Jamie. Jamie used a prompter to write words on a screen. Although he had a computer program that lent him a voice, it sounded robotic; he preferred the written word.

A moment later, Vaughn was back on the line. “Jamie found an interview in which the foundation’s spokesperson said they’ve donated to more than a thousand people. Some grants were small, just a few thousand dollars, and some were as large as a million. The interview was a year ago.”

“Any information about the type of grants?”

“It really varies. College tuition, healthcare, new home, a small business. The foundation has backed some pretty wacky small business ideas.” Vaughn stopped and again Allison could hear him speaking to Jamie. “One article that caught Jamie’s eye was about a little girl with a terminal disease. Her parents wanted to grant her dying wish.”

“Which was?”

“A summer in Disney World.”

“An entire summer?”

“Yep. The foundation rented a condo in Orlando and got each family member a season pass to every park. She needed special medical care, and the foundation paid for that as well. Get this: they even replaced the father’s salary for the months he took leave, as well as his COBRA costs.”

“Sheesh.”

“I know. Sadly, the little girl passed away that September.”

Both Allison and Vaughn were quiet for a moment, letting that sink in. Allison knelt by the tub, twirling her fingers in the warm water and contemplating the unfairness of life.

She said, “So it’s legit, and it does some good things.”

“Yes, it’s legit. But its critics argue that the foundation is wasteful. That if it used its money more efficiently, it could help more people.”

“Does the foundation have a lot of critics?”

“A surprising number. It’s hard to argue with a charity that makes people’s wishes come true. Can’t please everyone. His detractors are quite outspoken. Only Sam doesn’t seem bothered by them at all.”

“Of course not.” Allison placed the phone on speaker and poured bath salt into the tub. She lowered her aching body into the warm water and said, “He gets to play Santa Claus.”

“Santa Claus?” Vaughn said. “Or God?”

  

Later that day, Elle sent Karina down to Mia’s cottage to invite Allison and her family to the castle for dinner. Allison declined, preferring instead to eat a quiet meal in her cottage. When Karina suggested that Allison would be disappointing her host, Allison agreed to come—for a little while.

Now, after dressing once again in more formal clothes, she regretted her decision. But she knew Mia was anxious to see the interior of the historic castle, and to lay eyes on a former music idol—Sam Norton. As they entered the grand ballroom where Elle had ordered dinner be served, Allison watched Mia’s reaction, experiencing the castle as though for the first time through her mentor’s eyes.

Only before Mia could say a word, Elle was by her side, gushing over Grace and fawning over Mia. Her manner, laid back on a good day and nearly comatose on a bad day, seemed downright manic.

“Mia! I’ve heard so much about you. Please, come this way. I have a special seat for you right next to the charming Jeremy Kahn. You do know who Jeremy Kahn is, don’t you? I’m afraid his wife couldn’t be here tonight, but I’m sure you’ll find Jeremy to be a top-notch conversationalist.” Elle glanced over her shoulder, fixating on Jeremy, who was listening to Mazy, boredom etched on his face.

Elle lowered her voice. “Douglas is coming too. I told him not to, with Jeremy here and all, but he insisted. You’ll help me keep the peace, won’t you, Allison?”

Allison took Elle by the arm and led her into a corner, near the archway that opened up into a foyer. Mia seemed to take that as her cue and she took Grace deeper into the ballroom, near a table of appetizers that had been set out beneath an ornate chandelier. Jason lingered near Allison, his eyes on Jeremy Kahn.

“Are you okay?” Allison hissed.

“Yes, of course. Why?” Elle teetered, then stumbled against a wall.

“Because you don’t seem yourself.” Allison peered into Elle’s eyes. “Did you take something?”

Elle had the decency to look ashamed. “Hilda gave me something. To calm my nerves.”

“A tranquilizer? Give me your wrist.” Allison took Elle’s arm and felt her pulse, which was racing. “Where is Hilda? I think you may need to lay down.”

Elle’s eyes widened in alarm. “No. Don’t make me go upstairs. I’m fine. Really. See?” Elle stepped away from the wall. She twirled around, letting her red swing dress billow around her narrow hips. “Perfectly fine.”

“Where is Hilda?”

“With my dad.”

“I’d like to talk with her.”

Elle glanced toward the arched entryway. Douglas was just walking into the room and both women watched as he strolled coolly past Jeremy Kahn.

“Bastard,” Elle muttered. To Allison, she said, “I can’t take you upstairs now that he’s here. Why don’t you go alone? Sam’s rooms are down the hall from mine. Hilda is there with him.” She smiled, and Allison saw another flash of mania. “Go, go. Or you’ll miss dinner. Tonight, we feast.”

Allison watched her host fumble her way across the vast room on tangerine stilettos. She walked straight toward Douglas, who, for his part, seemed relieved to see her.

Before Allison could leave, Jason was by her side.

“I guess you heard everything?” When Jason nodded, Allison said, “Mia doesn’t know any of these people. Why don’t you go hang out with your mother, and I’ll find Hilda.”

“I’d rather go with you. My mom can handle herself.”

Allison’s gaze darted to Mia, who was standing in a corner next to Grace. Each held a small plate of crudités.

“I don’t know. She looks a little lost. Besides, it will be less conspicuous if you remain.”

Jason nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Don’t be long or I’ll come looking for you.”

  

By now, Allison knew her way around parts of the castle. Her heels clicked on marble floors as she walked alone through the long corridor and up the wide staircase. At the top of the second floor, she turned right, toward the south wing of the main building, where Elle and Sam had their apartments. Night was closing in, and the interior lights, hung high overhead, seemed unable to make up for lost daylight. Allison walked briskly, avoiding the shadows.

She counted doors until she arrived at what she believed to be Sam’s rooms. She knocked. When no one answered, she walked to the next door and lingered there for a moment, listening. No sounds from within. She knocked anyway. Again, all was quiet. She turned the handle. Locked.

Allison was certain she had the right rooms. Elle had said they were near her own, and no one else stayed in the south wing.

She was about to try the other set of doors again when the one in front of her slammed open. Hilda stood before her. She clutched a book to her breast.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Is everything okay?”

Allison looked past her into the room. She could see a gold brocade couch, a writing desk, and not much else. “I wanted to speak with you about what you gave Elle. For her nerves.”

“Ah.” Hilda stepped back. “Sam is sleeping,” she said in her accented English. “Finally.”

“I don’t want to wake him.”

Hilda didn’t respond, but her body language—rigid shoulders, hands still clutching that book across her chest—told Allison she no more wanted company than she wanted a needle inserted in her eye.

“Elle said you gave her a sedative, but she seemed rather hyperactive downstairs. Running about, unsteady on her feet, eyes darting.” When Hilda continued standing there, Allison said, “What did you give her?”

Hilda lowered the book, which Allison could see now had a German title. “It was just Diphenhydramine HCl.” When Allison looked at her blankly, she said, “Benadryl.”

“Why would you give Elle Benadryl?”

“Because it usually makes people slightly, ah, how do you say, groggy. Calmer. Without any addiction issues. But at times it can have the opposite effect. Perhaps it had the opposite effect on Elle.”

“How much did you give her?”

“Just one dose.”

Allison considered this. She’d given Benadryl to Grace before to fight allergies. Grace had fallen asleep within a half hour. But the doctor had said it could make children hyper. Adults too? Allison didn’t think groggy was the calm Elle was looking for. But if Elle had a history of addiction, and Hilda knew that, perhaps the choice made sense.

A sharp sound behind Hilda startled the frail woman and she jumped.

“Karina!” Sam called. “Karina?”

“Karina’s not here,” Hilda said. She turned to Allison. “I must go.”

“He’s awake then?”

“So it would seem.”

Hilda stepped back and started to close the door. Something fell from her arms.

Allison watched it hit the carpet. She bent down and picked it up. As she said, “Your book,” Allison saw a figure flash behind Hilda. Long blonde braids, a white t-shirt. White pants. Karina.

Before Allison could say another word, Hilda closed the door. Allison was left standing alone in the hallway, wondering what Karina was doing in Sam’s bedroom. And why Hilda lied about being alone with Sam.

  

Allison texted Jason and let him know she’d be a few more minutes. She didn’t want him worrying or coming upstairs to look for her. Not now.

She made her way back through the south wing, toward the upper entrance hall, and crossed over into the north wing. The two wings were mirrors of each other, although the north wing was used less frequently—and it showed. Cobwebs hid in dusty corners. Bulbs in the crystal chandeliers were burned out or missing. The wing had a musty, damp smell, from water damage or disuse, Allison wasn’t sure. But this was where Michael stayed, and it was where Vaughn would be. If anyone asked, Vaughn was her handy excuse. She wanted to see his rooms ahead of time.

The first set of doors was unlocked. She opened them and entered a series of small rooms: a living room area, a bathroom with a claw foot tub and a modern shower, toilet and bidet, and a spacious bedroom. The bed sat unmade, but the rooms looked as though they’d been recently cleaned. The scent of disinfectant was strong. The floors—stone underneath a Persian rug—seemed dust-free, as did the Italianate furniture. Vaughn’s rooms—or so Allison assumed.

She backed out of the apartment and closed the door softly. Another set of doors was visible down the hall. Again, her heels clicked on marble, and this time the sound echoed loudly, feeding her nerves and causing her pulse to race. She unstrapped her sandals and slipped them off, her aching feet a ready excuse should anyone ask. She skulked down the hall, too aware of the sound of her own breathing.

She twisted the knob of the first set of doors. They were locked.

She walked to the next door. Around her, the air was still and stale. She felt trapped in time, closed off from the merry-makers downstairs. She twisted the knob—also locked. She placed her ear against the ornate wood but heard no sounds coming from the other side. She pressed harder. The door gave way. It had been locked, but the latch never caught.

The sudden motion made her fall forward, into the dark.

It took Allison a moment to right herself. Breath coming hard now, she waited while her eyes adjusted to the dim light flowing in from the hall. She felt along the wall for a switch. Bingo. Light flooded the room.

Allison’s hand flew to her mouth. She bit down, stifling a moan.

The room was torn apart. Couch cushions had been sliced open, and their stuffing littered the carpeted floor. The writing desk sat askew, its drawers torn out and thrown on the floor. Beyond the living area, the bedroom was a mess. Clothes lay strewn all over the furniture, books and papers had been scattered across the bed, a tangle of rope and climbing gear sat on a dresser top.

Someone had been in here, searching through Michael’s belongings.

Someone who could still be in here now.

Allison glanced around, tingles running haywire down her spine and across her shoulders. She crept backwards toward the main entrance, her senses on high alert. At the threshold, she froze. A door closed in the distance, then a sound like clicking reverberated on the marble hallway floor.

She remained there, quiet, until the sound had passed.

Who had been in the rooms next door?

And who might be watching her now?