TWENTY-THREE

  

Balzan arrived an hour later without a translator. He and his people cordoned off the north wing and stayed at the castle until well after midnight. They found nothing—only evidence that someone had ransacked Michael’s rooms. They questioned each of the guests—at least those who spoke some German or Italian. Which meant they questioned everyone except Allison.

Without the translator, Allison felt uncomfortable sharing her own concerns. Karina offered to translate, but given what Allison experienced in Sam’s rooms, she was not about to trust her worries to Karina. Suddenly, no one at the castle seemed reliable, including her host. Could Elle have done it while high on the drug Hilda had given her? Anything seemed possible.

Jason held Allison’s hand on the way back to the cottage. “This just cements it,” he whispered. “You need to get out.”

Allison nodded. Tomorrow she’d speak with Balzan. Friday Vaughn was coming in, and by Sunday Mia and Grace would leave.

Allison knew Jason was thinking of his own job, of the wedding they’d planned to have in three weeks’ time. She knew he didn’t want to leave his family there alone. She sought words to comfort him, but all she could come up with was a reminder that she’d looked after herself in much worse situations.

“Not abroad,” he said. “And not with a child.”

“Michael’s room being torn apart doesn’t make things worse,” Allison reasoned. “To the contrary. It means this is not random. This relates to Elle’s family—or the foundation.”

Jason stopped walking. He looked at her under the milky light of a full moon and a billion brilliant stars. “Amazing,” he murmured. He glanced at Allison. “And how is that better?”

Grace and Mia were up ahead, also marveling at the clarity of the night sky. Death and disorder were surely far from Grace’s thoughts, and for that Allison was grateful. She turned to Jason, her heart swelling with love—despite the night’s events. She felt lucky to have him. To have Grace and Mia and Vaughn in her life. Jason was right. Personal or not, she’d see to it that they left, and she’d stick with her plan to be right behind them.

“Thank you for being here,” Allison said. “I love you.” The words made her ache. He was her rock. Childless or not, she wanted Jason. She wanted to marry him and be a family. A makeshift family was just fine.

“I love you too, Al,” he said. He leaned in and hugged her. “But I think we should postpone the wedding.”

Allison nodded. He was right, of course. Even if this mess was to get cleared up sooner rather than later, she had made no headway with her plans. There’d been no time. And Shirin’s death and the oddball antics of the castle’s inhabitants would leave an indelible mark on what was to be a happy day. No, the wedding should be postponed. It didn’t distill their love for one another. It didn’t change Allison’s sense of commitment.

Still, she was happy for the darkness that hid her tears.

  

Just as Julia had described, the police station was on the outskirts of the main town road, up from the young fruit seller who seemed to spend his days hawking produce from a truck parked by the side of the road. Allison and Jason followed the music—an outdoor concert was taking place in the town square, by the river—and passed the stores and inns that made up the bulk of the village. Inspector Balzan was late for their meeting, however, and the couple sat outside on a stone bench watching the festivities from their perch. Allison felt removed from it all, as though watching the colorful parade while in a trance.

Jason squeezed her hand and nodded toward the doorway. Balzan was standing there, waiting. He motioned them inside.

Today there was a breach in the inspector’s normal cool confidence. His handsome features looked bruised and shadowed, his sculpted hair slightly tousled. He led them through a small waiting area and into a tiny office. It smelled of stale cigarette smoke and onions, but the desk—like a matching set of shelves and a bookcase—was orderly. Allison’s eyes were drawn to a photo of a striking brunette holding an infant. Balzan’s family, she assumed. Although the inspector wore no wedding ring.

Balzan proffered two rickety chairs. They all sat, and silence permeated the room until Julia joined them. The translator was dressed entirely in red today.

“For the festival,” she said by way of explanation. Her gaze lingered on Jason. She smiled and leaned against a credenza, her ample bottom swathed in crimson satin. “Shall we get started?”

Allison explained her concerns as concisely as she could. She started with her own version of what had transpired the night before: her visit to Sam’s rooms, the Benadryl, and her walk to the north wing.

“And what brought you there?” Balzan asked through Julia. “To the northern wing of the castle?”

“Curiosity.” Allison told the inspector about Vaughn’s impending arrival. “But also to see if Elle was being completely truthful.”

The inspector looked surprised. “About?”

“About the laptop.”

“And what laptop is that?”

“The one Elle Rose told you about. Her half-brother, Michael, left it behind.” Allison was certain confusion showed on her face. Elle had said again she would tell the inspector about her concerns. Surely she’d shared them last night when questioned by the polizia.

But the inspector seemed equally as confused. “I’m afraid not, Ms. Campbell. No one mentioned a laptop.”

“Did you find one in Michael’s rooms?” Jason asked.

The inspector hesitated. Finally he said, “No. There was no laptop in the rooms when we searched.”

Allison and Jason glanced at one another. When Allison looked back at the inspector, he was combing through notes, presumably notes his officers had taken the night before.

“No,” he said again in English. “No laptop.”

The room’s occupants stayed silent. The sounds of trombones and trumpets could be heard through the station walls, and the thunderous percussion instruments seemed to beat in time with Allison’s heart. No laptop. That meant either the person who ransacked the rooms found what they had been looking for. Or Elle stole the laptop—which would explain why she never mentioned it to the police.

“Elle believes Michael is still on the premises,” Allison said. “Hiding.”

The inspector’s eyebrows shot up. “For what purpose?”

“To mess with their minds, make people believe Sam is crazy. She thinks perhaps he wants his inheritance—before the Pay It Forward Foundation gives it all away.”

“Wouldn’t there be easier ways to get that done than pretending to leave and staying behind? That sounds like a crazy notion.”

Allison explained her client’s discovery of the laptop and the reasons she believed her half-brother was lurking in the shadows.

The inspector looked unconvinced. He said something in Italian that took Julia a moment to translate.

“Inspector Balzan says perhaps the American is mentally unstable. Or ingesting drugs.”

Allison stared at the inspector, Elle’s words ringing in her head. “Perhaps. But she also said she felt someone watching her. What if…what if Michael is there? And Elle is in danger.” When neither Julia nor Balzan spoke, Allison took it a step further. “Inspector, have you given more thought to the death of Elle’s husband, Damien? Could the recent events at the castle and Damien’s death be linked?”

This time, Balzan looked at Allison as though she was mentally unstable. “Mr. Duarte’s death was ruled accidental. He fell. We reexamined the site where he’d fallen and found nothing new.”

“I know, but—”

The inspector merely shook his head, unwilling to venture down that path.

“Inspector,” Jason said. “Do you think the guests at the castle could be in danger?”

Julia translated Jason’s question, her heavily-mascaraed eyes glued to Jason.

But the inspector looked at neither Julia nor Jason when he replied in German. Instead, he set his burdensome stare firmly on Allison. “I don’t know what to think or whom to believe,” he said through his translator. “I have a castle full of poseurs and ex pats, not a citizen amongst them. Danger? Perhaps. But who is in danger and who is a threat—that is the billion-dollar question.”