Page 61 of The Unseen (Echoes from the Past #5)

FORTY-NINE

London, England

Quinn was surprised to find Rhys in attendance when she arrived to interview Natalia Swift, Valentina’s daughter, at her flat in Fulham.

Normally, Rhys allowed her do all the leg work on her own after the initial evaluation of the case, but today he hovered at Darren’s shoulder as the cameraman set up his equipment and kept offering helpful hints, driving the poor man crazy.

Natalia Swift was standing by the window.

When contacted by Rhys, she’d readily invited them into her home.

The polar opposite of her mother’s frozen-in-time abode, Natalia’s flat was modern, comfortable, and filled with light.

Natalia had to be in her mid-seventies, but could easily have passed for a sprightly sixty-year-old.

She wore her gray hair curly and long and was dressed in a colorful tunic paired with black leggings and suede boots.

An oversized silver-and-turquoise necklace accessorized the tunic and several silver bracelets jangled when she moved her hands.

Her makeup was skillfully applied and her large blue eyes sparkled with excitement as she settled in a wing chair, facing the camera.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Swift,” Quinn began once she settled in the other chair and adjusted her microphone.

“Oh no, dear, it’s just plain old Miss, and please call me Natalia. No need for such formality.”

“Okay, Natalia, as you know, human remains have been found at your parents’ home in Belgravia.

We’ve yet to identify the victim, but thanks to forensic analysis we know that the deceased would have been born toward the end of the nineteenth century.

He was in his late thirties when he died, which would have been around 1920. Any ideas who he might be? ”

Natalia smiled happily. “Not a clue. He must have been there from before my mother’s time. It was her house, you know, not my father’s. Mother was very attached to it. Said the house gave her visibility.”

“In what way?”

“As an immigrant, she believed herself to be invisible. She said that until she became a British citizen, she felt like she had no voice, no rights. She was a person unseen.”

“Do you know much of your mother’s history?” Quinn asked carefully. If Natalia could confirm what Quinn had already seen, it would make it much easier to bring Valentina’s story to the screen.

“Mum led a charmed life until she was eighteen. She was a Russian countess, you know. She was born in St. Petersburg, as it’s called now, and brought up in luxury and comfort in a house on the bank of the Neva River.

She was engaged to marry the scion of another titled, wealthy family.

She’d have had a very different life had the Revolution not destroyed everything she held dear.

The night Petrograd fell to the revolutionaries, my mother lost both her father and her fiancé, as well as her mother, in a way.

My grandmother never quite recovered from the terror and uncertainty of those events.

She withdrew, leaving my mum to become the head of the family. ”

“Why did your mother choose to immigrate to England when most Russian émigrés were flocking to France?”

“My grandmother had a cousin here, someone she’d been close to when she was a girl. The house in Belgravia actually belonged to him, and to his wife’s family before that. Grandmother said that Dmitri saved them from utter ruin. He was her guardian angel,” Natalia recalled with a warm smile.

“In what way?”

“Well, when they finally arrived in England after months of travelling, they were frightened and bedraggled. There was nothing and no one waiting for them here. They spoke practically no English, and had no possessions beyond what they could carry. My mother’s fiancé, Count Alexei Petrov his name was, had advised her to sew some valuables into her garments, and it was the money from the sale of those valuables that sustained them during the initial months.

Mum got cheated blind, of course, when she tried to sell the jewels, but she got enough to pay for lodgings and food.

They were running low on funds when Cousin Dmitri finally found them. He took them in.”

“And what happened to Cousin Dmitri?” Quinn asked, all innocence.

“He went missing, actually. Left the house early one morning and vanished into thin air.”

Quinn patiently waited for the penny to drop. She could almost hear Rhys’s glee as he stood next to Darren, watching the interview.

“It must be him that you found, mustn’t it?” Natalia asked, her eyes wide with shock. “Golly. How did he wind up there?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out. Do you think your mother knew about the secret room behind the wardrobe?”

“I can’t imagine that she did. She would have never left him to rot in that bathtub had she known,” Natalia replied, squaring her shoulders and staring angrily into the camera. It was time to take a step back, so Quinn changed tack.

“What was your mother like, Natalia? What type of person was she?”

Natalia shrugged, still a bit defensive.

“Mum was quite forward-thinking for her time, but at home she was very proper. Everything had to be just so. Once I got older, we were constantly at odds. Mum’s refusal to let go of the old ways drove me mad.

It was a new world, a new life, but she clung to her Russian roots, and the morals of the previous century, despite being an advocate for women’s rights.

I swear, if she could have had me chaperoned every time I left the house, she would have.

I don’t think Mum ever did an improper thing in her life.

It was difficult to imagine her ever acting on impulse or doing anything racy. ”

“She was married twice. Was she not?”

“Yes. Her first husband was Cousin Dmitri. She said they fell in love once they moved into his house, but she was afraid my grandmother would disapprove, so they married in secret. Mum mourned him for a long time. She married my father after Dmitri was declared legally dead. It took seven years. My dad was Stanley Swift, of Swift Publishing. Mum met him while working as a reporter.”

“What do you think happened to Dmitri?”

Natalia giggled like a schoolgirl, her earlier pique forgotten. “How would I know? If the remains are really those of Dmitri Ostrov, well, that just raises a million questions, doesn’t it? He didn’t seal himself in that bathroom, so someone had to know something.”

“Can you conceive of your mother having had anything to do with Dmitri’s death?” Quinn asked, keeping her voice soft and neutral.

“No, absolutely not.” Natalia shook her head stubbornly. “Mum was the least devious person I’ve ever known. She just didn’t have it in her to hurt anyone.”

“How would you feel if you discovered your mother was responsible for her husband’s death?

” Quinn asked. She had no desire to shatter Natalia’s view of her mother, especially without tangible proof, but the story would have to be told, and Valentina would be implicated regardless.

The world believed her to be Dmitri’s wife, and his remains had been discovered in the house.

It wasn’t very likely, even without definitive forensic evidence to support the facts, that Valentina would not have known her husband was still in the house, especially since the bathroom had been sealed from the outside .

“Let me tell you something, Dr. Allenby. If my sweet, guileless mother killed her first husband and hid his remains from the world, all I can do is applaud her because if that man drove her to such depths of despair, he deserved whatever he got. My mother and I didn’t get on, and I’d be lying if I said we ever understood each other, but there’s one thing I can say with certainty.

My mother was a woman of great strength and impeccable character.

If she was driven to murder, then she must have been dreadfully wronged and most likely abused.

I’m sad to say that now I’ll never know, since I can no longer ask her, but I would like to see Mum vindicated. ”

“Do you think Dmitri could have been capable of causing such irreparable damage?” Quinn asked, hoping for family gossip.

“I couldn’t say with any certainty, but my aunt Tanya did say there was something off about him. She said he was too smooth, too nice almost, as if there were someone quite different lurking just beneath the surface.”

“Were you close with your aunt?”

“She died twelve years ago. Lived to a ripe old age, Tanya did. She was a pistol. Unfortunately, I didn’t see her often after I went off to uni. She and her husband lived in the south of France. Mum used to send me and my brother there for the summer when we were kids. Those were enchanted days.”

“Your mother never went with you?”

“She only came for a week at the end of August. She had a job and couldn’t get the whole summer off.”

“She became a journalist, you said?”

“After her husband went missing, she went to school. She wished to become a journalist, but her English wasn’t good enough to write for any reputable paper.

It took her about five years to get her first piece published, but once she did, she began to make a name for herself.

She changed her name to Tina Swift after she married my dad.

She said Valentina sounded too foreign. ”

“And your Uncle Nikolai, what became of him?”

“Uncle Kolya was killed during the Blitz. Didn’t get to a shelter in time.”

“Was he married? Did he have children?” Quinn asked, seeing that sweet eight-year-old boy in her mind’s eye.

“He married and had two sons. His widow eventually remarried and moved to New Zealand. She’s gone now, of course, but I keep in contact with my cousins.”

“Natalia, do you have any photos or mementoes of your mother we can show on the program? Any letters?”

“I’ll have a rummage. I have a box of photos somewhere. Mum wasn’t big on writing letters. She had no one to write to, and unlike many women of her time, she wasn’t fond of journal keeping. Said nothing worth writing about ever happened to her.”

“It would have been wonderful to hear her voice through her letters,” Quinn mused as she wrapped up the interview.

“Yes, it would. Knowing what I know now certainly puts a new perspective on Mum’s life. I wish I knew what really happened between her and Dmitri.”

“So you believe she killed him?”

“He didn’t hide his own corpse and block the door to the bathroom, so either he committed suicide and Mum wanted to keep that from the world, or she did away with him and cleverly hid the body. If she did, she committed the perfect crime.”

“She certainly did. Do we have your permission to tell her story as it unfolds?”

“Absolutely. And do let me know when the program’s going to air. I can’t wait,” Natalia squealed. “I’ve always wanted to be on the telly.”

“It’ll be a while yet. Probably next autumn. ”

Natalia looked momentarily disappointed but then perked up. “I can wait. I’m just glad to be a part of it. I saw the first episode and it was heartbreaking. What a story.”

“Sorry, but I actually have one more question I’d like to ask you,” Quinn said.

“Fire away.”

“Did your parents have a happy marriage? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh yes. It was them two against the world. You see, neither family was pleased with the marriage. My father’s parents didn’t approve of him marrying a Russian, and my grandmother wasn’t thrilled with my mother’s choice of husband either.

She thought Dad was beneath her. But they were both widowed early in life and refused to listen to anyone’s opinion.

Mum was heartbroken when Dad died. He was only sixty-seven, so she outlived him by quite a few years.

She never stopped talking about him. He’d been her best friend, and she was lost without him.

I suppose that’s why I never married. I never found anyone who could give me what my parents had, and I wasn’t willing to settle for less.

I had a number of relationships and got to experience motherhood, but I never found anyone I loved enough to spend my life with. ”

“I appreciate your honesty.”

An hour later, Natalia walked them to the door and watched as Quinn and Rhys got into the lift. Darren decided to take the stairs.

“Are you all right?” Quinn asked, turning to face Rhys.

He’d been unusually quiet after they wrapped up the interview and accepted Natalia’s invitation to stay for tea and scones.

Normally, he would have peppered the conversation with questions and observations, drawing Natalia out without her realizing it, and would have extracted a few interesting tidbits to throw into the script, but he’d just sat there, sipping his tea, his plate empty.

The Rhys she knew would never pass up a fresh scone.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Have you and Haley made up?”

“Leave it, Quinn,” Rhys snapped.

“All right. I’ll speak to you later then,” Quinn said as they exited into the street. Rhys turned on his heel and strode away without saying goodbye.