“What do you want from me?”
“Tell me what you know about Lucian Blackthorne.”
At the mention of his name, I instinctively look away, for fear he’ll see the obsession written all over my face. “I don’t know anything about him. He’s not a very transparent man.”
“I know that you and he have become quite close.” Jesus. Did Nell tell this guy everything? “I did a bit of digging into your background, as well.”
Trying to keep a poker face, while my whole body is screaming from the inside, is impossible.
“I know there was an incident a few months ago at a party. I know you spent some time in a therapist’s chair.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with your investigation.”
“I know you live with your aunt, because your mother is a drug addict who gave up parental rights when you were ten years old.”
Pushing the plate of food away, I slide along the booth to leave, and at a grip on my arm, a flare of panic explodes through my muscles. All I have to do is scream, and damn near everyone in this bar would be on this guy.
He reaches into a bag that’s on the seat beside him and pulls out an envelope. “I have a feeling you’ll be quite interested in knowing what’s inside.”
Gaze on the envelope, I suddenly wish I had X-ray vision, because no way this guy is about to hand over whatever he seems to think would be important to me without some condition. “What is it?”
“Tell me what you know about Lucian.”
“You’re asking me for information, when I don’t even know that what’s in that envelope is worth it.”
“It’s worth it. And I’ll assure you, this offer doesn’t come without risk to me. I’ve more to lose than you in this exchange.” Which means my curiosity just ratcheted up a notch, just not enough, until he says, “It contains information about your father.”
Shit.
No. No way he’s privy to that.
All my life, I’ve yearned to know the answer to that question. I’ve inquired and dug around to no avail.
But what if it’s true?
My gaze falls to the envelope again. What if my father’s identity is right there? Practically at my fingertips.
Rubbing my hand across my brow, I close my eyes and shake my head. I’m not telling this guy jack about Lucian and risking someone watching me, like Giulia. But for information about my dad, I’ll tell him what I know for certain. “He didn’t kill Nell. He was with me the night before she was found dead.”
“Come now, you know he doesn’t have to carry out the murder himself. A man like Lucian Blackthorne can’t afford the blood on his hands, with the kind of past he has. Perhaps the only thing the man can’t afford.”
“You’re suggesting he had her killed?”
“She was meeting regularly with me. They knew it. The question is, why wouldn’t he have had her killed sooner?”
“And now I risk the same fate.”
“Give me what I’m looking for, and you’ll never hear from me again. I swear it.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Have you seen, or met, any of the members of Schadenfreude?”
According to Giulia, the men who were present at the masquerade were members, though I didn’t see any of their faces behind the masks. Except for Mayor Boyd.
“Only one. But I don’t even know if he’s a member. He might be innocent.”
“Who?”
“Mayor Boyd.”
Lips curved upward, he snorts. “Amelia’s father. The scandalous Mayor Boyd who had an affair with a seventeen year old girl. Trust me when I say he’s not innocent. He’s the only one you’ve seen around the manor?”
“Yes.”
“And do you know in what capacity Lucian serves this group? Have you ever seen one of his slaves, or noticed any unusual activity? Anyone coming to the manor who, perhaps, didn’t leave?”
“Slaves?”
“Yes. This group is known for sexual slavery and sadism.”
“I … know he’s helped Giulia. A maid who works for them.”
“I’m aware of Giulia. Any others?”
“No.” I don’t bother to tell him about Franco, because that would open the box to more digging, and I don’t need a drug dealer seeking me out for having ratted him out.
“I’m afraid I need one more piece of information before I hand this off to you.”
“What’s that?”
“Would your aunt happen to have a yearbook handy? From, say, your mother’s sophomore year?”
“Yeah. I guess. My grandparents had some old stuff stored away. Why? They have copies of yearbooks at the library.”
“I know. That particular year is missing.”
With a huff, I glance around the bar one more time. “Sure, I can look in the storage stuff in the attic.”
“Would you like me to drive you there?”
Makaio would probably go ballistic, if he saw the two of us leaving the bar and getting into his car.
“No, it’s not that far. I’ll run home, and I can be back here before dark.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind offering a ride.”
If Nell’s fate was sealed by having been caught hanging around a private investigator, I sure as hell don’t want to be caught hanging around said investigator.
“No, I won’t be long. Can I ask what you’re looking for?”
“Any pictures your mother is in.”
I frown at that, my suspicions slowly creeping back in. “What does she have to do with your investigation?”
“She doesn’t have anything to do with Schadenfreude, so far as I know. But she does have something to do with what’s in this envelope,” he says, holding it up again like a dangling carrot to a starving rabbit.
“Okay. I’ll be back.” I slide out of the booth and am greeted by the look of confusion on Aunt Midge’s face, as I pass the bar toward the back entrance, so Makaio won’t see me leave. “Gotta grab something from home real quick.”
“Like home-home? Or castle home?”
“Home-home.”
“Why you going out the back door?”
“Cutting through the alley.”
“You’re walking home?”
“Yeah. It’ll just take a few minutes.”
“Hey, Mac, any chance you can give Isa a ride to the house and back?”
Before he can answer, I shake my head. “He’s been drinking. Look, I don’t get out much these days. It’ll be nice to walk. Haven’t jogged in almost two months. I need the fresh, sea air. Kinda stuffy in a castle, you know?”
Arms crossed, she sighs. “Be back before dark, okay? That girl may have just overdosed, but that crap makes me paranoid as all get out.”
She has no idea. “I promise.”
It takes a half hour to walk from uptown to my neighborhood. The early morning strolls along the boardwalk, with the warm salty air, is something I’ve missed since taking the job at Blackthorne. Dead body aside, Tempest is a relatively safe island, overall. Murders happen, but rarely, and when they do, it’s all over the place, which results in more eyes watching.