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Romancing the Crown: Nina & Dominic: A Royal Murder

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Год написания книги
2019
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Ryan felt a little better about his lack of objectivity now. He was back on the job as he should be. Everyone was a suspect, even the woman who had temporarily thrown him for a loop.

“You like Thai cuisine?” he asked hopefully. Ryan hadn’t been crazy about the time he’d spent bumming around in that country, but the food had been good. He had regained a few of the pounds he’d lost and begun his recovery there.

“No, nothing oriental,” she said, looking rather glum.

“Please tell me you eat something besides hot cereal or we’re out of luck.”

To her credit, she managed a grin. “I love Italian food.”

“Well, you’re in luck.” He nodded and instructed Luigi, “Take us to Pirandello’s.”

“They have a new chef there,” he informed Ryan. “You must try his tortellini.”

“Will do.” He turned again to Nina. “I hope you have a good appetite. Picky eaters annoy me.”

She pursed her lips for a second. “Well, I surely wouldn’t want to annoy you.”

Ryan laughed full out, thinking about how annoyed he’d been for most of the day because of her. Right now he was feeling pretty damned confident again, since he was on top of the whole situation.

So she was beautiful, he thought as he looked at her without even trying to conceal his interest. So she rang his chimes a little. Okay, a lot. He had faced the worst nightmare included in this job with that trip to the morgue today and had managed to handle it much better than usual. Maybe his heart had hardened enough now that nothing could affect him to the point where he couldn’t function.

Even if he discovered Nina Caruso had paid someone to cap Desmond, Ryan could do what had to be done. He’d feel disappointed, sure, but he would be able to carry through and process her as he would anyone else.

Feelings did pass, he knew now, if you shoved them aside enough times and replaced them with a purpose. Giving in to them could wreck your life in nothing flat. He’d found that out the hard way.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” she asked. Demanded.

Ryan forced a smile. “Nothing. Just hungry.” And he was. “I skipped lunch,” he said.

And he would skip feeding this hunger for her, too, he thought as he tried not to devour her with his eyes. “Sometimes I get busy and forget,” he admitted.

But he wouldn’t forget what he was supposed to do with respect to Nina Caruso, he promised himself. Or what he was not supposed to do.

Nina had hardly been able to do justice to the meal. McDonough’s arrival had thrown her plans off-kilter. Now she wouldn’t arrive at the palace in time to interview anyone about Desmond. But she could still go to the guesthouse, if the guards would let her onto the grounds. There had been no problem that morning when she had identified herself, so she didn’t anticipate any tonight.

As soon as McDonough said good-night and left, she hurried to the phone and called a different cab company. Thankfully, there were three to choose from. Hopefully, this driver wouldn’t be one of the detective’s friends.

Perhaps she had lucked out, Nina thought, as she entered the taxi a quarter hour later. This guy was obviously Middle Eastern and both his English and Italian were nearly nonexistent. He did understand where she wanted to go, however, and took her straight to the palace.

Nina paid the cabbie at the gates and then identified herself to the smartly uniformed guard who stood there holding a wicked-looking machine gun. He examined the pass she’d been given that morning when she had first arrived, compared it to her passport, gave both back to her. He required her to open her purse, which he gave a cursory examination. “Shall I phone for a cart to transport you to the palace?” he asked politely. “It is some distance.”

She smiled up at him. “No, thank you. It is such a beautiful night, I prefer to stroll. That is allowed, isn’t it?”

“If you wish. May I ask the purpose of your visit this evening, the better to give you direction?”

Nina knew he was not asking out of politeness, but that he was required to know. “My half brother was the king’s nephew. The one who was recently killed. A couple of the maids who knew him invited me by to talk.”

“Ah yes, such a tragedy that was. Please approach through the main entrance. I will ring up and have someone meet you at the door. Have a pleasant visit, signorina.”

“Thank you very much,” she said, smiling, amazed that he was actually going to let her roam around unaccompanied. She took the well-lighted path to the left of the fountain and flower beds that graced the center of the enormous courtyard, though it led to the opposite side of the palace from the guesthouse where Desmond had lived. Periodically, she glanced over her shoulder until she saw that the guard had turned to mind his station at the gate. Then she quickly cut across to the other side.

Once surrounded by the verdant gardens, Nina felt even more vulnerable, rather than safe as she’d expected. So many times she had read about people experiencing the feeling of being followed and she felt that now. It must be guilt that prompted it, she realized, since she was not supposed to be here doing what she was doing.

So large were the palace grounds, it took her a good half hour, squeezing around hedges and ducking low-hanging limbs of trees to reach the back entrance to the guesthouse. She stopped to listen often to see whether anyone was behind her, but never saw or heard any indication that there was.

She had been on the lookout for guards patrolling, but had only noticed two marching slowly around the outer wings of the palace itself. They looked as if they were there for show more than anything else since they stared straight ahead, didn’t alter the precision of their steps and never even scanned the grounds. Those offering real protection would probably be outside the walls to prevent the entry of anyone unauthorized. Nina shivered to think how easily she had gotten in. Had Desmond’s killer gained entry this way? Surely the police had interviewed the guards on duty to find that out. She’d remind Ryan to get the names and do just that.

The lights were off in the guesthouse, and no one stood guard out back. There might be someone in front, she figured, so she would have to be careful, at least until she had completed her search. At that point, she wouldn’t really care if she were caught. She would enjoy informing McDonough that he should have secured the place if he didn’t want people inside it.

Boldly, Nina walked up to the back doors and opened them. One of the hinges squeaked in protest. Just inside the doorway, she slipped off her pumps and picked them up.

Through the large back windows, moonlight combined with the muted electric lanterns placed about the garden provided enough illumination to see her way around the dining and living room areas. Nina had a penlight in her purse, but didn’t want to use it unless she had to.

The place seemed sterile as a newly built home, containing no feeling that anyone had ever lived here.

The floor felt a bit gritty beneath her feet. Nina crouched down and touched it, discovering another reason why the room lacked any warmth or lived-in qualities. Someone had rolled up the plush Persian rugs and removed them since she had been there.

Perhaps McDonough had ordered it done to go over the rugs for further traces of evidence. She hadn’t thought he would be that thorough. Maybe she would have to reassess her opinion of him if that were the case.

She approached the area where the bloodstain had been, where Desmond had lain after the attack. She could see where his lifeblood had seeped through the rug and stained the light marble tiles. Unwilling to stand on the exact spot, Nina kept as close to the wall as possible.

“Ouch!” she yipped as she stepped on what felt like a tack. Quickly, she backed up to the hearth, dropped her shoes and sat down to pull the sharp object out of her instep. When she extracted it, she found it was not the tack she’d expected. Fishing out her penlight, she held it close to the object and examined it.

An earring! A clue? She had found a clue!

Of course, it might have been here for ages. Or it could belong to one of Desmond’s friends, not the person who killed him. Still, it was something Mr. Royal Investigator had missed. Nina felt a glimmer of satisfaction in that. Now he would have to admit she could be of help to him.

She tucked the earring into the zippered compartment inside her purse, switched off the penlight, slung the purse over her shoulder and continued her search. Maybe she could find something else.

The house was larger than it seemed from the outside. The second bedroom she checked was the largest and probably the one Desmond had used. There were no clues to be found as far as Nina could determine. The drawers and wardrobe had been emptied. A fine dust coated everything. Fingerprinting dust, she supposed.

Nina had just reached the open door to the bathroom when she heard the noise. The hinge from the French doors off the dining room creaked.

It must be the guard from out front doing a routine check, she thought. She listened for a few seconds, then ducked into the bathroom and quietly closed the door. She stepped into the bathtub and crouched low behind the door of thick frosted glass to hide.

Oh, lord, where were her shoes? By the door? On the hearth?

Her heart hammered so loudly, she was afraid whoever had come in would hear it and find her immediately. Surely it was the guard from the front door doing a regular check. She hated to think who else it could be or why she was so frantic not to be discovered after all.

In spite of that reluctance to guess who was in the house with her, Nina did recall that no lights had come on just prior to or just after she’d heard that creak of the door. Wouldn’t a guard need light to check the place out? No reason for him not to light up the place. Oh, God.

She remained exactly where she was as time passed, scarcely daring to breathe or shift her position against the end of the tub enclosure.

The air inside the bathroom felt exceedingly warm and she wished she could shrug out of her suit jacket. But she didn’t dare move. Her silk blouse clung to her skin and her hose felt like they would melt on her legs. Perspiration dotted her face and made her scalp tingle. She was breathing through her mouth, practically panting. Nerves.

Now was no time to develop panic attacks, she cautioned herself. Be calm. Wait till they leave. Grab your shoes and get the heck out of here.

Furtive rustling sounds from the bedroom had her scrunching down even farther in the bathtub, holding her breath until there was a roaring in her ears. When she did draw in a deep breath, she recognized the acrid odor. Her nostrils began to burn and her eyes stung. Smoke!
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