Page 40

CHAPTER 40

The men looked at her like, Huh?

“ The Godfather. The movie,” Maarja explained. “That’s what Don Corleone says to his son. The person who offers the deal is the traitor. It could apply here.”

Dante beamed as if his golden retriever had achieved his graduate degree. “You’re right. I’ll remember.”

She did not bark and wag her tail, but only because she needed to glare while she shifted an ice bag to her hip.

Owen deposited a cup of hot chocolate in front of her. “A little caffeine, enough to help your headache but not enough to do more damage.”

She took a sip and sighed. She could get used to being spoiled.

After digging around in a kitchen drawer, Owen came back with a battered tablet and a pen. “Who are the suspects?”

“Dante and I discussed that,” Connor said, “in the pool.”

Owen tapped the pen. “Any conclusions?”

“Nothing definitive,” Dante said, “and I could use insight from you both. You’ll see people differently because you weren’t raised in the culture.”

“The culture?” Maarja widened her eyes. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Dante ignored her sarcasm. “In no particular order—Jack. I like Jack for the next self-appointed crime lord. He went into the police to get a grip on the department, and during training, we lost him. His primary loyalty switched to the department. He’ll only give us what he considers appropriate information, and he’s been as pure as the driven snow.”

In a dun-dun-DUN tone, Connor said, “Or at least…so he says.”

Owen scribbled on the paper.

“Can we put Béatrice on the list?” Maarja asked. “She is so whiny, she’s not even real.”

Owen scribbled again, putting down names and notes.

“Sure. Not real is suspicious.” Connor nodded. “Not to mention she’s annoying. Jack is your primary suspect, Dante?”

“I said in no particular order.” Dante’s expression became still and dangerous. “Andere.”

Maarja fought dismay. “I told you it wasn’t—”

“You told me you killed my father, not Andere.”

“And that bitch Tabitha heard me confess and told everyone.”

Owen scribbled.

“I didn’t mean she was a suspect,” Maarja told him.

“Who did she tell?” Owen asked sensibly. “Who passed it on from there? Who put her in place to listen? Tabitha’s a link.”

“And a stink.” Maarja touched her forehead with one finger. She hadn’t had enough sleep and she had a headache, and she was tired of being suspicious of everybody. Someone had to find a way to flush out the bad guys. Someone had to find a solution to this hard-fought and surreptitious battle. Soon.

Owen patted her hand. “You’ll get the hang of this sooner or later.”

“Sooner would be better, huh?” Like immediately. She turned back to Dante. “Why do you say Andere?”

“Because of your confession, I can acquit him of killing my father. Yet Andere came from a long line of sycophants to the Arundel family. He never wavered in his devotion to my father, regardless of what evil deeds Benoit performed. Andere suffered in the explosion and recovered, and I never questioned that his loyalty transferred to me. He has done whatever Mère and I required to enforce the changes we demanded.” Dante spoke to her as if she were the only one at the table.

She got the message. “Andere’s well-acquainted with evil deeds. He can torture. He has killed.”

Dante leaned back. “He has.”

“Who in your organization hasn’t?” She thought that was a sensible question.

No answer.

“The women don’t. For the most part, right?”

Shrugs all around.

“Sure, your mother, Raine Arundel.” Maarja wanted to put a cap on the evil. “But she didn’t have a choice. She had to take control!”

Nods.

Still not a genuine response. “At least not Béatrice!”

“ You offered her as a suspect.” Owen pointed his pencil at his notes.

“Because she’s annoying and I don’t like her. All that melodramatic shrieking.” Maarja admitted, “I wanted to contribute something to the conversation.”

“You don’t have to do that, sweetheart,” Connor said. “You sit there and look pretty.”

She punched him hard enough that he rubbed his shoulder and told Dante, “She’s mean!”

“Remember who she is. She can fight.” Dante handed her a fresh ice bag for her knee. “Although maybe not right now. Fedelma has worked for my mother and me for as long as I can remember, so she’s on the list of prime suspects.”

Connor looked down at the table.

“That’s Connor’s mother,” Owen told her.

Maarja leaned back in astonishment. “Fedelma is Connor’s mother? But she said—”

“What did she say?” Connor asked.

Maarja looked at Dante. She’d already told him this.

Dante nodded, giving her the push to release the information.

Maarja swallowed. “She said, Between you and me, he can be dangerous. Avoid him when possible .”

“We have a conflicted relationship. I can’t remember a time when she didn’t push me to be Dante’s best friend, then whisper in my ear that I could replace him.” Connor seemed to be dealing with the mother issue very calmly. “She lusts for power, and I’m a sad disappointment to her.”

“Especially since I came along,” Owen added.

Connor patted his hand. “Yes, dear, that goes without saying. She wanted a manly man, and she got me. Good ol’ loyal accountant and company man me.” He glared at Dante and slapped one of the ice bags on his swollen nose.

The conversation went a long way to enlighten Maarja about Connor’s pass at her, then his attack at Mrs. Arundel’s funeral. He had a lot to live up to and a lot to prove, and he never could.

“What about Nate?” Maarja wavered on where to place a new ice bag. “Dante, your bodyguard has been in the thick of the action. Last night he delivered you to my house and took away our doppelg?ngers.”

Dante was still unconvinced. “What’s the motivation?”

“Money and power.” Connor touched his nose and winced.

“Possible. He is my father’s son.” Dante took the ice bag Maarja handed him and put it on his fat lip.

“My God, how many of us are there?” Connor couldn’t have been more dismayed.

Surprised, Maarja looked at Owen.

Owen looked at her.

Silently they consented to leave that subject for another day.

“Who’s his mother?” Connor asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Why not ask Nate?” To Maarja, that seemed like the obvious answer.

“Until he acknowledges the relationship, I can’t,” Dante replied.

She placed the ice bag on her forehead.

“It’s a guy thing,” Dante explained. “I only know because Fedelma told me my father deliberately bred a male to be the bodyguard to care for the legitimate heir—me—he would have with the wife he had already picked out—Mère.”

“That is so awful.” Maarja’s heart softened toward the impassive Nate.

“ Where’s his mother? She’s a woman who escaped Benoit?” Connor obviously didn’t believe that.

Dante confirmed what Connor’s tone suggested. “No concubine ever escaped him. She cooperated, she’s in hiding, or she’s dead. Somehow. Probably not an accident.”

“None of that removes Nate from the suspect list,” Owen pointed out.

Maarja lifted her head. “Dante, is that why your mother didn’t like Nate? Because he, um, was the unofficial older heir?”

“Mère didn’t like him because he never warmed to her. Warmth is not in his job description. In general, Nate’s not a cashmere sweater.”

Maarja grinned at the description of the big, grim man.

“Was Aunt Raine a good judge of character?” Owen asked.

“She married my father.” Dante obviously considered that a reason for doubt.

“Blackmail, though, right?” Maarja asked. “That’s what Fedelma told me.”

Dante looked at Maarja as if he’d never heard such a thing. “She said that? No. Mère was dedicated to keeping him happy.”

“Yes, because he hurt her if he was unhappy. You said it, Dante! You said—”

“I know what I said.” Dante drank his coffee with a concentration that said he needed it. “But even after he was dead, she refused to speak ill of him.”

“To you. To his son,” Maarja said sensibly. “She didn’t want to besmirch his memory.”

“Hard to do. He smirched it enough all on his own.” Yet Dante seemed willing to consider that explanation.

“Anybody else?” Maarja looked around the table.

“Only everyone else in the family. Everyone who profits from our activities.” Connor told the truth, but clearly he didn’t like it.

“Someone in the inner circle planned the elevator explosion. That narrows it down considerably. Is there anyone in the family who’s a ballistics expert?”

Heads shook.

“We hire that done,” Dante said.

“The first explosion killed Mrs. Arundel. The second explosion was supposed to kill us.” Maarja took that with ill grace.

“Someone doesn’t have the imagination to come up with a variety of murder weapons.” Connor had the guts to sound amused.

“Or we’re dealing with a copycat,” Dante said seriously.

Maarja used her fingers, cold from the ice bag, to massage her forehead. “Do we have a front-runner in the way of suspects?” She wanted answers.

“Andere,” Dante said.

“Nate,” Owen said.

“Jack,” Connor said.

“We’re getting nowhere.” She tapped her fingers on the table and said fiercely, “We’ve got to force their hand.”

Connor gingerly patted her arm. “Okay, boss. Got a plan?”

“Yes.” Maarja waited until everyone focused on her. “We—” she pointed at her own chest, then at Dante “—are going to get legally and very publicly married.”