Dark Shadows (Gia Santella Crime Thrillers Book 11) Page 6

  He stared at me.

  It sounded about as fucking strange as it was. I knew that.

  I wasn’t going to make an excuse.

  I’d saved the best for last:

  “And my gun and silencer is missing out of my nightstand drawer.”

  I could see him working the inside of his mouth with his teeth, thinking.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Was he shot?”

  “No idea,” I said. “His friend did CPR, but after that I tried to keep them away from the body. I didn’t really examine it.”

  He nodded. “Probably a good idea.”

  9

  On our way back in, Ryder stopped at the kitchen and poured three fingers of tequila.

  “Breakfast?” I said smiling.

  He didn’t smile back. He slid the glass across the black granite counter toward me.

  I made a face. He raised an eyebrow.

  I picked up the glass and downed it.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Back in the living room, I stood by as Ryder took charge.

  “The police inspectors are going to want to speak to all of you individually,” he said.

  “Why?” Hannah said, her voice shrill. “It was an accident. He must have had too much to drink, hit his head, and fell in the pool and drowned.” She looked around wildly at the others and then her gaze settled on Amanda. “You were the reason he was drinking so much. This is all your fault.”

  Amanda jumped off the couch and became a blur of flying blonde hair and long pink talon nails scraping at Hannah’s face. Both women were screaming. Before I could get there, Hannah had flipped Amanda onto her back and had her hands around Amanda’s neck. The blonde’s eyes were bulging.

  “You wanted him so badly,” Hannah said. “Now you can have him, you bitch. You could have had him for the past ten years. You never wanted him until I did. That’s because you never wanted me to have anything. Ever since we were little, you’ve always had what I wanted—the clothes I wanted, the toys I wanted, the vacations I wanted, the boys I wanted. Why couldn’t you let me have this one thing? All I wanted was him. I’ve given you everything our entire friendship. All I wanted was him. Why didn’t you let me have him?”

  Tears dripped down her face.

  I watched. I knew I should do something, but I was too interested in what Hannah was saying.

  Ryder was now in the room and pulled Hannah off of Amanda, who sat up holding her neck and gasping for breath. Everybody else appeared to be in shock, stunned into immobility.

  Then the doorbell rang again.

  Sabine went to Amanda’s side to check on her. I glanced at Ryder. He jutted his chin toward the door, and I nodded.

  While Ryder headed toward the front door, I took Hannah by the arm and led her into the dining room.

  “You okay?” I said.

  “No,” she said. “I’m not fucking okay.”

  “I know,” I said. “But you have to get your shit together now. The police are here, and they are going to want to talk to you. You have to calm down. You have to think. I need you to remember everything you can about last night. I think maybe you were drugged. I would tell them this and maybe ask for a blood test. And make sure they check that glass by your bed.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. A tear slipped down her cheek.

  “Who do you think did this?” Hannah asked.

  I shook my head and pressed my lips together.

  “Did he have any enemies? Anyone you can think of? Did he piss anyone off since you guys got to Cannes? Maybe someone who followed us here?” I wasn’t sure if someone could have gotten in from the backyard. It was basically on the side of a hillside cliff, but maybe if someone wanted to badly enough?

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so,” she said.

  “I’ll have to talk to Ryder, but I think it would be pretty hard for anyone to get into the house at night. That alarm is shrill. Can you think of anything at all from last night that struck you as odd?”

  She frowned. “Maybe.”

  “What was it?”

  “I saw Amanda and Owen arguing right before bed. He went up to bed. She went out to the pool by herself.”

  “Then what?” I asked.

  “Lucas and I went up to our room…” she trailed off.

  “They argued. But it sounds like you did, too. Amanda said you and Lucas argued last night.” There it was.

  Hannah looked down. “We did. It’s the same argument we always have. I get jealous. He reassures me that he wants me, not Amanda. He says he could’ve been with Amanda for years but never was. It’s my own insecurity. Now, every time they talk or hang out, which they’ve done for years, I get jealous.”

  “Do you remember anything after you and Lucas went up to your room?”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Yes,” she said and nodded. “It was late. I remember Lucas getting out of bed and saying he needed to go get something to eat from the kitchen.”

  She sat up straighter. “I told him I was thirsty, and he brought us something to drink.” She looked over at me. “That’s the glass on my nightstand. Do you think we were poisoned?”

  I frowned.

  “Do you remember anything after that?”

  “No,” she said. “Not until Sabine woke me up and told me.”

  Her lip curled, and she began to sob.

  Ryder reappeared in the doorway. I could hear voices from out at the pool. They must be out examining the body.

  “The inspectors are asking everyone to stay in the living room, and they will call each person one-by-one to question,” he said, giving me a glance. “I told them they could use the study.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “Thank you.”

  They started with me in the little study off the kitchen. It was filled with a large glass desk, potted plants, and prints of Paris maps. A large window overlooked the backyard, but showed the fire pit area, not the pool.

  The detective behind the desk rose to greet me. He was heavyset with a buzzcut and a long, droopy moustache. But he had a friendly smile, which was disarming. Probably on purpose.

  “I am Commissaire Boucher.”

  “Giada Santella,” I said, using my full name for some reason. We shook hands and sat down. He settled into the massive, wheeled white leather office chair, and I sat in one of the orange leather chairs facing the desk.

  “Where should we start?” he said.

  I was taken aback but didn’t let it show.

  “I came here to relax. A vacation of sorts. I met the kids at one of the clubs in town last night. Their reservations fell through. I felt bad and offered to let them stay here. This big villa was getting a little lonely anyway.”

  “Kids? How old are you?”

  “I guess I’m only a few years older than they are,” I said. “Maybe I just feel older.”

  No maybe about it. I’d lived lifetimes compared to them. Then again, that applied to people older than me as well.

  Then I told him how I’d spent the evening with them and then woke to the dead body. I also told him how I set the alarm every night before bed with my own special code.

  “Did you see anything suspicious last night?”

  “There was an interesting conversation between the victim and one of the young women.”

  Boucher tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow.

  “I’m not sure it means anything. It was something about him having the balls to ‘do something or she’d do it herself.’ Or something.”

  I knew I was leaving a lot out. Like the part where he said it would be a crime, and she’d go to jail. And how he’d said he wasn’t afraid of her.

  I sighed heavily.

  “There was something else,” I said. “She told him he didn’t know what she was capable of and his response was that he wasn’t afraid of her.”

  Fuck. Was I throwing Amanda under the bus for something that could have nothing to do with the murder?

  “Do you have any idea
what they were talking about?”

  “None whatsoever.” I stood. I was done. I’d done my fucking civil duty. I wasn’t sure why I felt so dirty about it. I felt played. I didn’t know why.

  I had my hand on the doorknob.

  “We’re almost done here,” he said. “If you don’t mind. A few more questions.”

  I turned back toward him.

  “You said you set the alarm before turning in to bed,” he said looking at his notes on the desk in front of him. “Is there any chance someone could have come into the house while you were sleeping?”

  “I don’t think so. When I accidentally set it off the first day, you could probably hear it down at the harbor. It’s crazy obnoxious.”

  “And nobody else has your code?”

  “Not a soul.”

  “My understanding from Ryder is that the alarm system doesn’t cover the back of the house.”

  “That’s dumb,” I said.

  He didn’t answer only continued to take notes. I waited until he looked up at me again before I spoke.

  “You seem to already be treating this as an investigation.”

  “It is,” he said, a small smile on his face. “It’s a death investigation.”

  He was avoiding what I was getting at.

  “Have you determined the cause of death yet?”

  “The coroner is working on it as we speak.”

  “Do you think he was murdered?” I finally said, putting it out there.

  The detective met my eyes. “Do you?”

  I waited a few seconds without looking away and shook my head.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I know killers,” I said meeting his eyes. “I just can’t see any of them as murderers. Maybe I’m naïve…” I trailed off and shrugged.

  His gaze was piercing. I made sure I wasn’t the first one to look away.

  “We haven’t ruled out that it was someone who came into the house. They might have come up from the canyon into the backyard.”

  I paused. He was obviously familiar with Ryder and had talked to him before he arrived. That was unnerving. I realized I needed to tell him about my gun. I did so quickly.

  “Was your door unlocked when you weren’t in there?”

  I nodded. “It only locks from the inside.”

  “Aha,” he said and scribbled more notes. Then he looked up.

  “I think that is all for right now,” he said. “Thank you for your time. Please stay in town until we complete our investigation.”

  “What?” I turned back around.

  “It would be best if we could keep track of everyone for the next twenty-four hours at the very least. We can’t make you stay in Cannes, but I am asking you to do so. I’m going to ask the others to surrender their passports. You are an EU citizen, so I can only ask you to please stay until we know more. Can I count on your cooperation?”

  “I’m going to have to get back to you on that.”

  He frowned and I walked out before he could respond.

  It was a long day. Hannah spent the day curled up in the fetal position on a small loveseat, her red eyes staring off into space. Amanda sat on the couch, breaking out into sobs every once in a while. Owen had his arm around her and his chin on top of her head. Sabine sat on the floor by the loveseat, occasionally reaching up to pat Hannah. Clint sat in a chair nearby on his phone.

  One by one they were brought into the study.

  Amanda was right. It had to be an accident. Lucas had to have had too much to drink, fallen and hit his head, and ended up in the pool. The way they cried and took care of each other, it seemed there was no way one of them could have done this. But who knew?

  However, I did keep thinking about the conversation I’d overheard between Lucas and Amanda.

  But seriously, she was a spoiled brat, but hardly a killer. Probably the worst she’d done was sleep with her best friend’s boyfriend, which was highly likely from everything I’d seen.

  I paced most of the day feeling helpless.

  Ryder stayed in the kitchen, busy on his phone or a laptop he’d set up at the bar counter. He made food for everyone—sandwiches and fruit that remained largely untouched—and kept handing out bottled water. Around two in the afternoon, he brought out a tray of drinks and everyone reached for one. Then he brought out two bottles—one of tequila and one of whiskey. We all had several shots. Once again, I thought about how different everything was in Europe. In the states, a room full of grieving friends or even possible suspects wouldn’t be served drinks.

  As soon as she downed hers, Hannah immediately rushed to the bathroom. A police officer stationed at the door to the living room initially tried to stop her, but Ryder scolded him in French. The officer stepped aside, but followed her down the hall. Another officer immediately took his place. I didn’t like that.

  Were we prisoners here?

  I stood and headed for the study. A burly guy in a gray police-issued sweater stood there looking bored.

  “I need to speak to the commissaire.”

  When I was led into the study, I was pissed. “Listen, your men are following us to the bathroom? What’s up with that?”

  I stood before him with my arms crossed.

  I had no idea what the rules were here in France, but this was utter bullshit.

  I’d been trying to be helpful, but this was too much. Not to mention, every time I walked into the kitchen, I still could see Lucas’s body by the side of the pool. All by itself.

  “And what the fuck? Do you just let bodies sit there and rot in the sun?”

  The detective started to roll his eyes but then said, “It’s complicated. He is not French, no?”

  “No,” I said in an irritated voice.

  “We have the coroner submitting a report and notifying American embassy about procedure and other details. It’s very complicated. International.”

  I chewed on that for a few seconds. “Fine. But I refuse to be treated as a prisoner or a suspect in my own home.”

  “Your own home?” He raised a thick black eyebrow.

  “Whatever. The place I’m renting.”

  I walked out.

  Instead of going into the living room, where everyone was staring morosely at their phones, I went into the kitchen. Ryder was there, perched on a bar stool and typing on his laptop keyboard. I wondered what the hell he was doing all day long on his computer. I thought he was a bodyguard or something. I got a quick glance at his screen. Aha. He was writing something in a Word doc.

  For some reason, I found him less annoying, knowing that.

  Without a word, I reached for the tequila bottle, poured a shot, downed it, and poured another. I reached over to a cigarette pack on the counter and extracted one. Before it had barely touched my lips, Ryder put a lighter to it.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “How long is this going to take?”

  He turned away from the computer to face me. “It seems like they’ve done everything they can here. I’m not sure.”

  I slumped on a bar stool. “I just want to be alone, but now he’s saying that they have to stay here for at least twenty-four hours. Not that I’d have the heart to kick them out anyway. What the hell? They are so young. And their friend was just killed. Maybe murdered.”

  “Have they determined that?”

  “The detective won’t say shit, but yeah, that’s what I think is going on. But I seriously can’t imagine one of these kids killing their friend. Is there any way someone could’ve got in? Like up the canyon behind the house.”

  His eyebrows knit together. “Yes. It is possible. Very ambitious. But possible.”

  “Here,” Ryder said, pushing a plate of olives and cheese toward me. “Eat something.”

  I idly picked at the plate and ate one green olive and a slice of cheese and pushed the plate back at him.

  “Ha!”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  He eyed me. “I didn’t think you were one of those ridiculous
girls who don’t like to eat.”

  I gave him a disparaging look. “Hell, no.”

  “Then eat.”

  “There’s a dead body within my view. I think that’s a pretty damn good excuse not to eat right now.”

  He shrugged. “Eh? Probably.”

  Just then there was a ruckus in the other room: voices and footsteps and doors opening and closing. I stood up.

  Lucas’s body was no longer out by the pool.

  They’d finally taken it away.

  Ryder grinned at me. “Now you have no excuse not to eat.”

  I made a face.

  The detective poked his head into the kitchen.

  “We are done here. I just told the others that they’ll need to remain here for another day or so until our investigation is complete. I have confiscated all of their passports.”

  I stared at him, daring him to ask me again for mine. He didn’t.

  “Was it an accident?” I said.

  “No,” he said. “It appears to be a homicide.”

  10

  Everyone had retreated upstairs when the police had packed up and left. But as night fell, people slowly emerged from their bedrooms.

  Ryder had gone home after I refused his offer to stay and provide protection.

  “It is my job,” he said. “I am a highly paid private security officer. I will stay for free.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said sarcastically but followed it with a grin. “I think we’ll be okay.”

  He chewed on his lip for a second before replying.

  He reached into a briefcase and took out a small gun.

  “I’d feel better if you kept this on you and slept with it near your bed,” he said and slid it across the counter toward me. “I assume you know how to use it.”

  I glanced down at it for a second and nodded.

  The detective had refused to tell us the cause of death. Maybe Lucas had been shot. After all, my gun was missing along with my silencer. That might have been the sound that woke me. It had only been twelve hours. It felt like a lifetime.

  I had napped in my room most of the early evening. I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was. I was a loner, and simply having all these people in my space would’ve required some down time, but dealing with a dead body and trying to keep everyone consoled since I was the closest thing to a parental figure in the house? It had drained me.