Grace Takes Off (26 page)

Alarm bells rang yet again. While the original family drama had nothing at all to
do with the theft of the Picasso skull, I wanted to understand what was really going
on. “Let me take care of a few things,” I said again. “I promise to be in touch.”

The moment he was gone, Frances stood. “Do you believe him?”

“I don’t know who to believe at this point.” I headed into my office and picked up
the phone, not at all surprised when Frances followed me in.

“Who are you calling?”

“Bennett,” I said. “I’d like to visit with Irena again. We know Gerard’s side of the
story. Now I’d like to hear hers.”

BENNETT SOUNDED CONFUSED ON THE
phone. “You’re telling me Nico’s son is in your office?”

“Was,” I corrected. “He left a few minutes ago.”

“I don’t understand. How did he know to show up at Marshfield? What’s his game?”

I regretted not keeping Bennett better informed about the SlickBlade/Pezzati association.
“It’s a long story. I’ll explain when I come upstairs. Is Irena willing to talk? I
have a few issues I need cleared up.”

“She’s arranging for her flight home, but I’ll see if she has a few minutes . . .”
Bennett put the phone down and I waited. A moment later he was back. “Come right up,”
he said. “We’ll be here.”

I’d made it into Frances’s office when my desk phone rang. “I’ll get it,” she said.
I stood in front of her desk as she held up a finger, indicating for me to wait. “Yes,
yes,” she said. “I’ll tell her.”

When she hung up, she said, “That was the Mister. He says that he’s been thinking
about it and it may be safer to give Irena the original photos of the skull to take
with her now rather than send them later. He says he’s afraid they’ll get lost in
transit.”

“He said that?”

“Word for word.”

I twisted my lips. “They’re his pictures, he can choose to do what he thinks best,
but . . .” I let the thought hang. “I can’t help but think Irena might have had a
hand in this decision.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

I hurried to my office, grabbed the album, and placed it on Frances’s desk. “Either
Gerard or Irena lied to me about their family history. I can’t imagine why.” I opened
the album and turned to the pages featuring the Picasso skull. Working gently, I plucked
out the photos I’d given Irena copies of. “Here,” I said to Frances. “Hold on to them
for me. I’d like to keep them out of harm’s way for a while.”

“And you think Irena might cause harm?”

“She doesn’t seem the type, but I’m not about to take chances.”

• • •

I KNOCKED ON THE DOOR TO BENNETT’S
rooms a few minutes later, abridged album in hand. “Gracie,” he boomed as he stepped
aside to allow me in. “You know you don’t have to knock. Come right in.”

“It’s weird not to have Theo or another one of the butlers answer the door,” I said.
“But it does feel more homey when you do it.”

“I prefer it this way, myself.”

I followed him back into the study. “Where’s Irena?” I asked.

He pointed toward the wing with the guest rooms. “Her flight has been delayed. Mechanical
issue. She’s on the phone with them now to pin down a scheduled departure. No sense
in leaving here until she gets the all-clear. I know Nico will be relieved to have
her back.” He reached for the album and lifted it out of my hands. “And he’ll be especially
glad to have these.”

“About that,” I began, but was interrupted by Irena’s return.

“Oh Grace, I am so happy to see you here. What a turn of events! My flight is back
on schedule,” she said, barely taking a breath. Spying the album in Bennett’s hands,
she walked over to him, still talking to me. “I can’t believe my brother came to see
you. He was here, in this house?”

“He left a short while ago.”

“And this is the album with photos of my father as a young man,” she said. “I am excited
at the prospect of seeing all these wonderful pictures. I know these will give my
father a thrill. I can’t wait to show this to him.”

She started to open the book, but I stopped her. “Your brother told me that he’s tried
in vain to reconnect with your father over the years. Yet you and your father claim
that he hasn’t even made an attempt in the past fourteen.”

She gave me a patient smile. “I’m not surprised.”

“What happened fourteen years ago?” I asked.

Irena walked over to the sofa and sat. The fake skull still watched us from the low
table next to Irena’s purse. She inched it to the side to make room for the album
and looked up at me. “What did he tell you?”

“He seems to be doing well for himself. Not at all the picture of the destitute, desperate
man you painted.”

“Your tone, Grace,” she said with an inquisitive air, “has changed. Are you doubting
what I told you?”

Bennett touched me on the elbow. “What’s going on, Gracie?”

Addressing Irena, I said, “Your brother tells me he wants nothing more than to see
your father again. He was very convincing. Maybe if you told me your side, I’d be
able to connect the dots.”

“It is a long, ugly story.”

I sat next to her. “I have time.”

“I do as well,” Bennett said. “Perhaps it would be best if you started at the beginning.”
He came around to the other side of Irena as she pulled the album onto her lap. The
three of us sat there, Irena like the mom preparing to read a story to her two eager
kids.

Her purse chirped. Looking grateful for the delay, she reached in and pulled out her
cell phone. “My flight,” she said by way of explanation. “Excuse me.”

She checked her text, replied, then returned the device to her purse. “Everything
is set. They’re ready whenever I am.”

I placed my hand on the album. “Before you go, please: We’d like to know why you told
us Gerard refused to talk to your father, when the opposite is true.”

She shook her head and took time to make eye contact with both of us before she sat
back and sighed. “My brother is a compulsive liar. He’s very good at it. Very practiced.
I’ll bet he told you about his wife and children, too.”

“He did,” I said.

Bennett exclaimed, “What is this? He has a family? Does Nico know?”

“There is no family,” she said with profound sadness. “He lies. Believe me when I
tell you that every time I have attempted to facilitate discussion between the two
men it has resulted in disappointment for my father. I now refuse to try anymore.”

I’d believed Gerard. I’d been so certain. My heart heaved.

“What I don’t understand . . .” I began, but was interrupted by familiar voice down
the hall.

“Yoo-hoo,” Hillary called. “Are you up here, Papa Bennett?”

“In here.” Bennett stood. I followed. Irena fumbled with the album, but then got to
her feet, too.

Hillary came around the corner all smiles, wearing a tight skirt and stiletto heels
that had to be murder to walk in. In her arms, she carried what looked like a giant
photo album. “I brought my client here to see the rooms for himself.” Her high-pitched
voice evidenced her eagerness to impress as she tiptoed into the room. “He was so
enraptured by my portfolio.” She patted the book in her arms for emphasis. “I know
you won’t mind.”

Bennett thundered his disapproval. “My rooms are not a showplace.”

He’d barely gotten the words out before Hillary’s companion followed through the doorway
after her.

I gasped. “Rudy.”

I TURNED TO FACE BENNETT. “CALL SECURITY,”
I said. “It’s Rudy.”

From behind Hillary, the would-be flight attendant smiled. “Why are you so afraid
of me, Miss Grace? Didn’t I save you from that terrible fanatic on the airplane?”

Hillary’s head twisted back and forth between us. “You know each other?”

Bennett hadn’t hesitated when I sent him to the phone, but Irena had grabbed his arm
and was holding tight. “Rudolfo,” she said. “There must be some mistake.”

“No mistake,” I said. There wasn’t time to explain about how Rudy had killed Pinky
on the flight over. There was no longer any doubt in my mind that the two of them
had started out working in collusion, but when Pinky wavered and looked ready to spill
her secrets, Rudy had taken her out.

I started for the phone myself.

To my surprise, Rudy didn’t stop me. Instead he gripped Hillary’s upper arm and pushed
her farther into the room. “Go ahead,” he said to me. “But you may want to reconsider
before you pick up that phone . . .” Using two fingers of his free hand to resemble
a gun, he pointed to Irena.

I spun. She held a hypodermic needle to Bennett’s neck.

“If only you hadn’t meddled on the flight, Grace,” she said, shaking her head. “What
were you thinking?”

Hillary was making little squeaking noises, sounding like a teenage girl who’d spotted
a hairy spider. The logical part of my brain wanted her to shut up. The rest of me
went into immediate shock. Irena was almost as tall as Bennett, and she held him in
a powerful hold. The needle running alongside his neck made a sick indentation.

Irena’s eyes were bright. “You’re going to follow my instructions now. Do you understand?”

“What’s in the needle?” I asked.

“Thorazine. Same drug Pinky tried, but in a different form. This dosage should take
your boss out permanently. This time, I’m making sure it gets done correctly.”

“What good will it do you?” I asked. “I’m here. Hillary’s here. You’ll never get away
with it.”

“Don’t worry. We came prepared for contingencies.” She guided Bennett backward around
the sofa and gestured toward the low table with her chin. “Pick up the album and give
it to Rudolfo.”

“They’re not in there,” I said.

“What’s not in there?”

“The pictures of the skull. The originals.” I thanked my lucky stars that I’d pulled
them out. It bought us time. To do what? I didn’t have a clue.

I moved to the table, reached over the skull and picked up the album. I paged through.
“See?” I said when I got to the page with the missing photographs. “This is where
they belong. They’re not here.”

Irena’s teeth came together in irritation. I watched her knuckles go white around
Bennett’s bicep. Could he take her down without getting injected? I didn’t know. I
read the question in his eyes: He didn’t know, either. She was younger, lithe, strong.

Behind me, Rudy held a similar grip on Hillary, whose squeaking had morphed into low
whimpers.

Rudy whispered next to her ear, but I was close enough to make out his words. “There’s
nothing to fear. This is but a minor inconvenience. Have faith.”

I faced Irena, sensing that she was the leader of this outrageous coup. “Don’t do
this, okay? You don’t really want to hurt anyone. I know it. I’ll go get you the originals,
and Bennett and I will promise never to speak of the skull, to anyone.”

I chanced a look at him. Lips tight, his eyes blazed. He’d never agree to keep a conspiracy
quiet. I stared, willing him not to voice such a sentiment aloud. We needed to buy
time.

“It’s too late,” Irena said. “Thanks to you, my father already believes that the original
has been stolen. He’s initiated a more intense inventory, one that will uncover all
the other forgeries. If he discovers that I’m behind this, he’ll kick me out.”

Their faces inches apart, Bennett turned to her, contempt in his eyes. “Your father
would give his life for you. When he hears about this, your betrayal will kill him.”

Irena’s expression was animated, filled with spirited fury. “That is why he must never
find out. As long as he’s alive, I have access to his possessions. The moment he dies,
everything goes to the town.” She spat on the floor. “Wasted.”

“How long have you been stealing from your father?” I asked.

“We need the originals,” she said, not answering me. Addressing Rudy but indicating
Hillary, she asked, “Can we trust that one? Send her for them.”

“She doesn’t know where they are,” I said. “I do.”

Rudy’s whispered words had had an effect on Bennett’s stepdaughter. Although she remained
in his grip, she’d quieted. Holding tight to her portfolio the way a drowning person
might clutch a life preserver, she sent quick glances back and forth across the room
as though trying to understand what was going on.

Irena pushed Bennett around and forced him to sit on the sofa. She remained standing
next to him, cupping his upward-tilted chin in one hand and keeping the needle tight
against his neck with the other. “I don’t believe in stalemates,” she said. “I believe
in winning.”

“You can’t win. Not without those originals.”

“Sure about that, are you?” she asked. Shifting her attention to Rudy, she said, “Sit
the stepdaughter here, where I can keep an eye on her.”

Rudy complied, speaking in low tones. As he guided Hillary onto the cushion next to
Bennett, I heard him say, “I will take care of you. Trust me.”

Irena must have heard him, too. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, but then a smile
played across her lips as though she was privy to an inside joke. “Rudolfo,” she said
in an ultra-feminine coo, “is this the woman you told me about? The one you intend
to marry and share your wealth with?”

For her part, Hillary remained stoic. She stared up at Irena. “He didn’t tell me about
you.”

Deception curled behind Irena’s eyes. “Rudolfo and I go way back. We’re friends. Dear
friends.” She locked eyes with him. An undercurrent passed between them, something
deep and dark. Hillary missed it.

“He’s not going to marry you, Hillary,” I said as pieces of the puzzle plopped into
place—much too late for my tastes. I turned to Rudy. “That was the line you fed Pinky,
wasn’t it?”

“Pinky?” Hillary said the name with a combination of surprise and disdain. “Who’s
Pinky?”

“The woman Rudy killed on the flight over from Italy,” I said. “Or didn’t he tell
you about that?” Taking a chance, I fabricated, “For what it’s worth, I think he was
truly in love with the woman. You should have seen the looks that passed between them.
A lot like the way Irena is gazing at him now. If he wasn’t so afraid of her,” I pointed,
“I’ll bet he and Pinky would have run off.”

Rudy glared. “Shut up.”

“Stop.” Irena’s face was puffed and reddening. “We will have to leave the originals
here.” She shook her head like a dog shaking off water. “There is no other way. My
father will be so stunned and saddened to learn of his friend’s death that he will
put aside the matter of the skull for a while.” She fixed her attention on Rudy. “That
will be long enough for you to make the necessary adjustments to that skull to fool
my father, yes?”

“Of course,” Rudy said.

Irena was to my far left. Bennett next to her on the sofa. Hillary next to him. Rudy
stood to my far right. All of them glanced at the low table, where the skull sat before
me.

I picked it up and turned it over, pointing to the spot where the
P
-shaped blemish should have been. “There’s no way he’ll fall for that. He’s seen this
one, hasn’t he?”

Irena’s eyes lit up. “He asked me to check for him. At that point, I knew better than
to lie. You two have truly spoiled what was a perfectly wonderful plan.” Her tone
changed, and I got the impression she was deciding her next moves aloud. “I’ll tell
him I misunderstood the mark he described, and that just before the honorable Bennett
Marshfield died, he verified that this skull was genuine.”

“He won’t find it suspicious that I’m dead, too?”

Frankly perplexed, she said, “How would he ever find out?” She looked up at Rudy.
“It’s time to go. Is she coming with us?”

Hillary, sitting below and between the two, looked like a child waiting for approval
from her parents. “You can’t kill Papa Bennett,” she said in a small voice.

Irena shot her a quick, indulgent look. “Not only can we kill him, we’ve taken steps
to pin the deed on you. You can either come with us voluntarily or stay here and try
to beat an accusation of murder.” Wiggling her perfectly trimmed brows, she returned
her attention to me. “Double murder, I mean.”

This was all too much for Hillary. “But I’m not guilty of anything,” she protested.
“Rudolfo told me he wanted to hire me. That’s all.” Scooting forward on the cushion,
she instinctively faced Irena. “You can’t do this.”

Irena’s attention shifted at Hillary’s outburst. It could very well be the only chance
I’d get.

With one word—
please—
screaming in my brain, I hefted the skull at Irena, aiming for her head. She caught
the movement out of the corner of her eye a split second too late to react. Either
my aim was off, or the skull’s weight factored in more than I’d anticipated. The noggin
caught her center mass, knocking her backward. The hypodermic needle somersaulted
in front of Bennett, who tried to catch it midair. He missed.

I didn’t hear or see it land because I was in motion, tackling Irena, as she, Hillary,
and Rudy shouted and cursed in surprise. “Get the needle,” I yelled to Bennett.

He ignored me, jumping to his feet to go after Rudy.

Irena was strong, but I was bigger and younger. She bared her teeth as I used my body
to keep her down on the floor. Arms flailing, she kicked and bucked, doing her utmost
to throw me off. I felt as though I was on one of those fake bulls in a country bar.
“You’re done, Irena,” I shouted over her panting breaths. We needed help and we needed
it fast. “You’re done.”

Her jaw clenched and she pushed upward again. “I. Will. Not.” With a surge of force,
she hit my back with her knees, my face with the heels of her hands. Sweat poured
down my face, into my eyes. My left arm jammed against her neck, I hauled back with
my right fist and slammed it into her cheek. She cried out.

She wasn’t knocked unconscious, but at least I’d slowed her down.

I glanced up, past the sofa next to us, to see that Bennett was losing ground with
Rudy. Bennett was on the floor, doing his best to scuttle away. Rudy drew back his
right foot as though to land a vicious kick. “Hillary,” I screamed. “Get the needle.
Hurry.”

Bennett stared up at Rudy, no longer crab-walking backward. I watched stern determination,
coupled with fury, take over his patrician features. Just as Rudy went in for the
cruel strike, Bennett swept a foot out and whacked Rudy’s stationary leg. The younger
man went down—a tumble of bones banging against the wood floor.

“Yes!” I shouted.

Irena continued to fight, and although I strained to keep her down, Bennett’s move
had emboldened me. “Hillary, the needle!”

Still looking as though she didn’t completely understand, she at least heard me that
time. She crouched for a moment then stood, holding the needle upright, like a wild-eyed
nurse ready to give a shot to a screaming toddler. The liquid inside hadn’t been released
yet.

Rudy was on his feet in a moment, but his spill had given Bennett enough time to crawl
across the floor and retrieve the skull. He stood now, holding it, looking like a
shot-putter ready to wing it at Rudy’s head. I’d bet Bennett’s aim was better than
mine. From the look in his eyes, Rudy thought so too. They stared at one another,
breaths coming in wheezed gasps.

Irena fought me, but we both knew she was down for good.

“Hillary, go call for help,” I said.

She turned her blonde head toward Rudy. “Was this all planned? You weren’t interested
in my designs? You weren’t interested in me?”

Irena’s voice was strangled but still strong. “Of course he is. He plans to marry
you. He told me. He loves you and he’s rich. Very rich. Who do you think has been
able to sell all the goods I’ve taken from my father? Rudolfo is wealthy beyond your
wildest dreams.”

Bennett and Rudy were frozen at one end of the room. Irena and I entangled on the
floor at the other. Hillary stood between us, alone, gazing at Rudy with puzzled,
hopeful eyes.

“Don’t believe them, Hillary,” I said. “I don’t know what their game is, but don’t
be foolish. They’re lying to you.”

Beneath me, Irena ceased her struggle. She coughed, using whatever she had left to
inject authority into her voice. “I’m not the liar here. Grace and Bennett have been
lying to you. Or wait, didn’t you know?”