CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

That evening, I call Sean again. I relate what Thomas Keller tells me and ask him his thoughts.

"Well, if what he says is true, then that would take away the financial reason for a suicide. It's easy enough to find out. I can go to the SEC website and look up the company. Are they U.S. based?"

"I didn't think to ask."

"Well, it's no matter. I can look it up and then find records from whatever governing body they report to. But let's say that he's telling the truth. That doesn't change the fact that he's a middle-aged man sleeping with the latest in a long line of women who only value his money and prestige, while his wife sleeps with the latest in a long line of men who satisfy her in ways her husband never has."

"Thank you for painting that lovely picture for me," I say drily.

"You have an odd sense of propriety, Mary. You don't mind digging through the private lives of multiple people to solve a murder that you're not qualified to solve, but if someone brings up sex, you blush. I wish I could live inside your mind for a day."

"You couldn't handle the shadows it contains."

"How delightfully dark. And almost certainly accurate. My point is that…"

"Yes? Why are you hesitating?"

"I'm preparing to hear you dismiss my thoughts immediately."

I roll my eyes. "Consider them dismissed. Now, what have I dismissed immediately?"

He chuckles. "The thought that the police might have had it right the first time. Maybe Frederick Jensen killed himself."

"No. not possible."

"Thought you'd say that. Thank you for a lovely conversation, Mary. Have a wonderful day. Or it's night where you are, isn't it?"

"Sean, don't be an ass. But really, how can you say that it was suicide already? We've only eliminated two of our suspects. There's still Catherine, who is also middle-aged and staring down a future with a man she doesn't love after decades of denying a man she does love. There's that man in question, Hugo, who strikes me as quite foolish enough to kill Frederick to be with his wife. There's Veronica, who actually threatened to kill Frederick for considering ending their relationship."

"She's a foolish girl who let her emotions get the better of her."

"Such people kill other people when they have access to loaded handguns."

"Fair enough."

"Anyway, I still think Catherine is the most likely suspect, possibly with help from Hugo. I just don't know how to prove it."

"If only you had a law enforcement agency there whose entire job was to solve crimes," Sean says drily, "and a detective who's waiting for information from you. You know, like the security footage you sent me that implicates Catherine?"

"So he can blow everything up by putting her on a defensive footing? The next thing you know, the family travels to America, and this dies in the courts over the next eleven years." A thought occurs to me. "Why didn't the police confiscate this footage, anyway? I overheard Dubois asking about security cameras. I can't understand why they wouldn't have already seen this and acted on it."

"Maybe they're afraid of the same thing you are, that she'll jump ship."

"Exactly. That's why I can't go to the police yet. I need more."

He sighs. "Well, I walked right into that one."

I bite my lip and think about what to do next. I have already stolen footage from her bedroom. I can't rely on getting that lucky again. The same goes for Frederick's study. That implicates Veronica, but I can't range much farther to look into her either.

The problem is that I'm limited by my responsibilities to the children. The memorial is over. I will allow the children one more week off of school, but I will still be working full time to care for them and comfort them. I've already conspired with Sophie, and that's ended with me assaulting an innocent woman—well, innocent of Frederick's murder, anyway.

I have only one choice. "Sean, I need you here."

There's a shocked silence. Then he says. "Well, I definitely did not walk into that one. You want me to fly to Geneva?"

"Yes. Save your travel expense receipts, and I'll reimburse you."

"And how so I introduce myself? As your boyfriend, perhaps?"

I roll my eyes again. "I didn't say drive to the estate, you nitwit. Fly to Geneva and stay in the city. Then you can do my digging for me."

"Oh yes. There's nothing I love more than doing your dirty work."

"If you didn't like the job, you shouldn't have made a career out of it," I snap. "Get here as soon as you can. The murder grows colder as we speak."

"I thought you said he was cremated."

I glare into the phone. Sean can't see me, of course, but I suppose my silence communicates my disapproval of his crude joke because after a moment, he says, "Sorry. That wasn't funny."

"No, it wasn't," I agree. "And I'm not asking. Get to Geneva, and text me as soon as you land."

"I think you and I need to have a discussion about the difference between a contractor and an employee," he grumbles.

"So I'll expect you on the next flight?" I reply.

"Yes, you'll see me soon," he says irritably. "Goodbye."

He hangs up, and I sigh in exasperation. Sean is frustrating, but he's useful at least. Maybe he can get the evidence I need to go to the police and put an end to this nonsense before it's too late.

I am pulled from my thoughts by shouting from downstairs. One of the voices is Catherine's. The other's is high and shrill and carries a South London accent.

Veronica Baines.

I rush to the door and down the hallway to the living room. I feel a touch of embarrassment when I remember that I'm still in my nightgown, but I'm not about to miss whatever event is happening between my two primary suspects. I feel a bit of validation when I arrive to see Sophie in her own nightgown watching the argument.

And what an argument it is. The women haven't come to blows yet, but they're not far from it.

Veronica stands in front of Catherine, jamming her finger up into the taller woman's face and hissing, "I loved him more than you ever did!"

Ah, the classic cry of the other woman.

"Oh yes, you loved him," Catherine sneers. She stands in front of Veronica with her arms crossed. "Tell me, which did you love most, his pocketbook or his yacht?"

Veronica laughs. "He had far more impressive assets than that, let me tell you."

"How limited your experience is if you think Frederick's assets were impressive."

"Oh yeah? Not as big as Hugo?"

"Not nearly. Hey, maybe you should fuck him too." She grins. "Then you can stay home from his funeral too."

Sophie gasps. I try not to jump to conclusions after my mistake with Olivia, but I can't help but wonder if I've just heard Catherine obliquely confess to her husband's murder.

Veronica's lower lip trembles. "I had as much right to be at his memorial as you did."

"How the hell can you possibly believe that?" Catherine challenges. "You're his side piece. I'm his wife. I'm the mother of his children."

"Yeah, his children who hated him!"

That's the straw that breaks the camel's back. Catherine draws her hand back and slaps Veronica hard. I was surprised by my own strength when I slapped Eleanor Strauss, but the blow Catherine lands on Veronica is queenly. The younger woman staggers backwards, breath hitching. I believe she's on the verge of losing consciousness, but she gathers herself and launches at Catherine in a blind rage.

Catherine is ready for the attack, though. She sidesteps Veronica's slashing claws and grabs her around her shoulders. With a shriek, she tosses Veronica to the floor.

"Catherine!" a male voice shouts.

A moment later, Hugo rushes down the stairs. Catherine, sensing that she's about to be restrained, steps forward and kicks Veronica viciously in the ribs. The younger woman cries out and drops back to the ground.

Hugo grabs Catherine then and pulls her away. Veronica gets to her feet, breathing shakily. The fight has gone out of her, as tends to happen when one has been soundly beaten.

Thomas comes into the room and goes to Veronica's side. Catherine points at her and tells Thomas, "Get this bitch out of my house!"

"Mom?"

I look to the head of the stairs and see Olivia and Ethan standing on the landing. Ethan rubs sleep from his eyes, but Olivia is watching everything that's happening.

"What's going on?" she adds.

I snap out of my shock and rush up the stairs. "Come, children," I say firmly. "Back to bed."

"But what's going on?" Olivia asks.

"Is everyone all right?" Ethan adds.

I place my hands on their shoulders and begin to lead them away, but I stop when there's a knock on the front door. I'm confused by that. There are no neighbors within a quarter mile of the house, so I doubt anyone has been attracted by the noise. If it was another servant, then they would not be coming from outside.

My confusion ends when I hear a loud and authoritative voice call, "Veronica Baines? This is Inspector Moreau. We know you're in there. Come out quietly, or we're coming in."