“Okay, I guess that’s all the secrets I’ve got for you today,” said Kingman cheerfully. But then he caught Brutus’s death-ray look amidships and gulped. “Max, can’t you explain to Brutus I’m not having an affair with his girl. He looks ready to kill me!”
“I could tell him, Kingman—of course I could. But first I’d have to know this secret you’re so anxious on keeping from us.”
“I can’t, Max! It’s not my secret to tell! Harriet would kill me!”
I offered him a smile and a paw. He glanced down at the paw.
“Why are you shaking my paw, Max?” he asked.
“It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Kingman. An honor.”
“Gah,” he grunted annoyedly, and waddled off on a huff.
“Is Kingman going to die, Max?” asked Dooley anxiously.
“I wouldn’t be surprised, Dooley,” I said. “I would not be surprised.”
CHAPTER 29
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Michele was in her room, prey to a sudden surge of melancholy. The realization that Isobel was gone had hit her suddenly after dinner, which they’d shared as a group, and she was still experiencing a powerful sense of loss.
She and Isobel hadn’t been the best of friends, far from it, but she was still going to miss her. They’d shared so much over the years, both good and bad, and now all of a sudden that part of her life had ended in the tragic death of a woman who’d suffered as much or even more than Michele herself had.
Not many people lose their significant others in such a brutal fashion, and the loss of Dean and Gavin had hit them both hard. It had created a bond between them, a bond they had never acknowledged as such, but that was still there, as an invisible connection.
Isobel had borne the brunt of the tragedy, as her life had gradually spiraled out of control, ending in a quite humiliating brush with addiction, out of which she’d emerged, much to everyone’s relief, only to plunge her family into turmoil once again with this autobiography nonsense.
Michele picked up her phone and waited for the call to connect. She was gratified to hear her motherin-law’s voice. The two women always had a good connection, and had only grown closer after Dean and Gavin had passed from their lives. “Hello, Marjorie,” she said, much relieved. Her husband might be gone, and now Isobel, but she still had Bill and Marjorie, and her kids. “Yes, I’m fine. Yes, I’m hanging in there. No, we’re not allowed to leave yet.”
She glanced through the window, and imagined she could see the police car parked at the back gate. There was one positioned at the front of the house also. According to the detective in charge of the case both sentinels were there for their protection, just in case whoever killed Isobel might return. She thought the real reason was that the police thought someone in the house had killed Isobel, and until they knew who this person was, they weren’t going to let them leave.
“How is Bill?” she asked. Bill might have passed the legal retirement age a while back but was still going strong, holding the reigns of his empire firmly in both hands. They all knew he was simply waiting for Michele’s son Michael to take over. Michael wasn’t ready yet, they also knew that. Running a large company like the Droba Group was a major challenge, and demanded a lot from a person. And even though Michael was doing well, acting as the group’s vice-president and working directly under his grandfather’s tutelage, it would be some time before he was at the point where he could take over and assume full control.
She talked to Marjorie for a few minutes, assuring her that everything was fine, and that the police had things well in hand and that she wasn’t in any danger. She hung up and left the room, remembering suddenly that she needed to have a word with Bereng?ria.
She found the woman in the kitchen, where she was checking the fridge and making a note about things she needed to buy. Bereng?ria Morat? was only a few years older than Michele, but looked about sixty. Her wizened features and gray hair tied back in a bun made her look much older than her years.
The housekeeper looked up when Michele entered.“We need to discuss dinner,” she said. She’d totally forgotten about Bereng?ria, what with the police sniffing around all day, and Isobel’s murder.
“It not natural,” said the woman, repeating a statement she’d made earlier that day. “You not stay here, in house where person dies. It bad karma.”
“I know, Bereng?ria, but what can we do? The police won’t let us leave.” At least they allowed the housekeeper to come and go. They could hardly suspect her of trying to murder them all in their beds.
“It very bad of them. They clean house.”
“Yes, I know,” said Michele, though she would have thought it was Bereng?ria’s job to clean the house, not the police.
“Clean energy,” the woman clarified. “Remove evil spirit and sister ghost.”
“Sister-in-law,” she said, correcting a common misconception.
“They seal room, they clean,” said Bereng?ria with some vehemence.