CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The people gathered around—myself included—stand in stunned silence. When Moreau knocks on the door again, Veronica starts. She tears herself from Thomas's grasp and runs toward the hallway.

Sophie moves swiftly, catching Veronica and tripping her. Veronica shrieks and tries to get to her feet again, but Sophie falls on top of her and places her in some sort of wrestling hold. I'll admit I'm so shocked by the scene that I forget entirely about the children. They shake free of my grasp and run down the stairs toward their mother.

Hugo realizes he's still holding Catherine and releases her. The children rush into their mother's arms, and Moreau pounds on the door again. "Veronica! Last warning!"

"Relax, inspector!" Thomas calls. "Veronica is… restrained." He seems as shocked by Sophie's sudden display of wrestling prowess as I am. "I'll open the door!"

He pulls open the door and flinches backwards when men in body armor carrying rifles rush past him. "Jesus!"

"Is this really necessary?" Catherine calls, keeping protective arms around Olivia and Ethan.

"It's for your protection, ma'am," Moreau replies, walking in behind her officers. "We didn't know if she was armed. We had a feeling she wasn't coming here to make friends."

"You can say that again," Sophie interjects, getting off of Veronica now that the SWAT team is present to take her. "She attacked the missus and tried to attack me. Didn't go so well for her either time."

"Fuck you, you fat bitch!" Veronica shrieks. "And you too, you old whore!"

"Kinda looks like you're the one who's fucked," Catherine sneers at her as the agents lead her to the door.

"Yeah, by your husband. Every night!"

Once again, I remember the children. I head swiftly down the stairs. "Ma'am, please let me take the children back to bed."

Catherine pulls them away from me, her eyes flashing dangerously. I recognize the feral expression of a mother protecting her children and lift my hands placatingly. "They don't need to see this."

Catherine blinks and regains control of her senses. "You're right. Yes. Children, off to bed."

I lead them upstairs. When we're out of earshot, Ethan asks, "What was that about, Mary?"

"Didn't you hear?" Olivia says bitterly. "That was dad's whore. She's upset she wasn't allowed at the funeral."

"It's nothing for you two to be concerned with," I say firmly.

My own curiosity burns, of course. Has the murder been solved? Has Interpol determined that Veronica Baines is responsible? It would certainly make my job easier, assuming they got it right.

My first responsibility is to the children, however. I guess that Ethan will be more likely to keep a promise to remain in his room, so we go to his first. He is rather disappointed at being whisked away from the drama, but he acquiesces after securing a promise from me to tell him everything I can once the drama dies down.

I expect a fight from Olivia, but I'm surprised when she heads to her room willingly. "Tell Mom I said good job for smacking that bitch down," she throws over her shoulder.

"You can tell her yourself in the morning," I reply wryly.

She grins and pauses by her door. "What happened? Did mom really beat her up?"

"That's as good a way to describe it as any," I agree.

Her grin widens. "Damn. I wish I could have seen that."

"We really must do something about your language," I scold. "But we'll save that for tomorrow. Off to bed now."

She enters the room, and I sigh with a mixture of exasperation and exhaustion. Then, as giddily as a teenager myself, I rush back down the stairs to learn what happened.

Moreau is talking with Catherine when I return. I overhear her say, "I'll be available to answer more questions over the phone later, but there's a storm moving in, and I don't want to miss my flight."

Catherine nods, and Moreau turns to leave. I reach the door just as she's closing it behind her and head outside.

"Did she do it?" I ask, hurrying to keep up with the petite but fast-moving Moreau. "Is she the killer?"

Moreau sighs, clearly exasperated at having to answer more questions when she explicitly stated that she was in a hurry. "No. She was in the process of embezzling money from several of Frederick's clients during the time of his death."

"Wouldn't that prove that she had a motive?"

"Motive, yes. Opportunity, no. The transactions were initiated from the guest bathroom on the first floor and took place during the hour Frederick was missing. What's more, we tracked her phone's movements the entire party. She never left the house. She's guilty of fraud and embezzlement, but the murder will be up to the local police to solve."

"You can track everyone's phones?"

"Not everyone's. Only when we're given a court order to track a suspect. We had one for Frederick and Veronica Baines, but Frederick got wise and stopped using that phone. Good for us, Baines was too stupid to do that." We've reached Moreau's vehicle now, and she says, "I really do need to leave, Miss Wilcox."

"But there's a murderer on the loose! You're not staying to solve that?"

"As I said," she replies, "that's a case for the local police."

She steps into the vehicle, and immediately, the driver pulls away. The SWAT van and the transport van where Veronica Baines now sits follow right on her tail.

I stand in the softly falling snow and watch them leave. The storm Moreau predicts hasn't shown any sign that I can see yet, and the flakes settle gently on the ground. It's a picturesque scene, but it does little to calm my raging mind.

My suspect pool has been thinned even further. It's now down to two: Catherine Jensen and Hugo van Doren. Soon, Sean will be here, and between the two of us, we'll find the proof we need to send one or both of them where they belong.

The snow falls gently, but another storm is coming, and it's that storm that causes me to shiver.

When I return to the house, Catherine and Hugo have gone to bed. Sophie and Thomas are sitting in the living room drinking tea. Sophie sees me and gestures to a third cup on the coffee table.

"How on Earth have you made that so fast?" I ask. "I've only been gone a few minutes."

"How long do you think it takes to make tea?" she replies with a wry smile. "I started it as soon as they pulled me off of Veronica."

"I should have known," Thomas says. "I knew she was a gold-digging skank, but I never suspected she would go so far. No wonder Interpol was shadowing Frederick for so long. I wonder if he—"

He catches himself, but he doesn't need to finish his thought for me to understand it. It's certainly possible that Frederick did know about her illicit activities. Perhaps that was why he tried to end the relationship. Perhaps that was what Veronica meant when she threatened to make him regret the day he met her.

He stands abruptly. "Well, I'm off to bed. And I think tomorrow I'm off to the office. I've had just about enough drama."

"You've got the estate to run, don't forget," Sophie reminds him.

Thomas scoffs. "I've never run this estate, and you know it. You'd be a better choice for the job, anyway."

"I don't want it."

"Then Franz. Or Catherine herself, for all I care. I'm done with this."

"Get some rest," I exhort him. "You'll think more clearly in the morning."

"I hope so. I was Frederick's friend, not…" he sighs, and when he speaks again, it's with far less anger. "You're right. I need rest. Good night, both of you."

"Good night, Thomas."

He leaves, and I shake my head. "I can't believe she came all this way to fight with Catherine over the memorial."

"I doubt she's left Geneva since she got here," Sophie says. "The woman's foolish, but I suppose in her own foolish way, she thought she loved Frederick."

"I don't know about that. She was stealing from his company."

Sophie shrugs. "Well, then she loved having access to money."

"I have to confess, I thought she might be the killer. When Moreau arrested her, I thought the case was solved."

Sophie shakes her head. "I was certain he was driven to suicide because of Dr. Strauss. I'm terribly sorry about that, by the way. I really did think she was to blame."

"Don't apologize," I insist. "I suspected her before you, and I ever talked. We both allowed our prejudices to get in the way."

Sophie nods. "I do wish I'd thought of money sooner."

"Money?"

"Yes. As a motive for the crime. If I had, I would have thought about Hugo right away."

My eyebrows raise. I've suspected Hugo, of course, but only as an accessory to Catherine's probable schemes. I've never thought of any financial connection to Frederick. "About Hugo?"

"Oh yes. Hugo is quite the gambler."

"Really?"

She nods emphatically. "He is. Horses, I guess. It seems he's gambled away what used to be quite a tidy fortune. In fact, his reason for visiting this time around was to ask Frederick for yet another loan."

"Another loan?"

"Indeed. Frederick's been helping him out for Catherine's sake."

I find that hard to believe. "He's been helping his wife's lover?"

"I don't think he suspected Hugo of being Catherine's lover. He knew that Catherine was running around on him, just as he was running around on her, but I don't think he knew that Hugo was her latest beau. He's helped Hugo several times before. In fact, I suspect that Hugo's infatuation with Catherine has more to do with access to Frederick's money."

I begin to connect the dots in my head. "And now that Frederick's out of the way, Catherine will have all the money."

"Well, a tidy sum, anyway." She finishes her tea. "Well, I'm off to bed. Listen, I don't want you to take what I've said as proof. I'm a little wary of saying I'm sure of anything after what happened with Strauss. It's just a thought I had when you mentioned that Veronica was embezzling. Good night, Mary."

"Good night."

She heads to bed, and I think about what she said. It's true that her suspicions aren't proof, but it definitely paints him in an even worse light than before.

I think I have a new task for Sean when he arrives.