Savich said, “And it’s a coincidence you had breakfast with Veronica Wednesday morning at the Flying Cow in Foggy Bottom?”
“I don’t know how you found out about that, but considering there are eyes everywhere in Washington nowadays, well, no matter. Yes, we do try to have breakfast on Wednesday mornings—nothing special in that. I did tell her about this girl Rob had just met, but I remember I laughed, said it was a passing thing, since he’s a man after all, and that’s the nature of the beast. Veronica laughed, too, said it sounded to her like Rob was a great deal like his father. We didn’t speak of it further.
“It’s Veronica’s nature to protect people—Mrs. Rasmussen, and all her friends, me as well, I think. She’s an honest person, believe me, she would never shove some girl in front of an oncoming car. Our conversation on Wednesday? Again, there was only the merest mention of this girl. Nothing more to it.”
“There was a great deal more to it,” Savich said. “Actually a lot more than anyone here might imagine.”
60
* * *
Everyone burst out talking at once. It was Glynis’s voice that won out over the others. “Dillon, you’re saying Veronica Lake, Grandmother’s Veronica for fifteen years, tried to kill this girl Rob met on Tuesday? That sounds farfetched to me. Hardly possible.”
Savich smiled. “I agree with you. I would also say what she did was stupid. She panicked, and that rarely turns out well.”
He raised his hand to quiet everyone.
Rob was staring fixedly at Savich, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Marsia. “What do you mean, there’s more than anyone can imagine?”
Savich could see dread in his eyes. Perhaps Rob had sensed that something was never quite right in his relationship with Marsia, and it was beginning to dawn on him that their entire relationship had been an illusion fostered by a very talented woman.
Savich said, “To begin with, Marsia and Veronica have been close since before you met her, Rob. Perhaps it started out as a joke when Veronica talked about you, the long-lost bad boy, the marriageable Rasmussen who could be worth untold millions if Venus were to take you back fully into the fold. I suspect it was more than a joke for Marsia. However it came about, between them, they arranged for Marsia to meet and seduce you, Rob, and to do anything she needed to marry you.
“The fly in the ointment was Venus Rasmussen. They had to be very careful in trying to maneuver her into welcoming you back, Rob, and giving you back your full share of the family’s wealth.”
There was stunned surprise, shocked voices. Savich raised his hand to shut them down again and continued. “Do you know, Veronica, Venus hardly even remembered it was you who started bringing Rob up in your conversations. You reminded her what a nice bright boy he’d been and that it was such a pity he’d had to leave. You wondered what he was like now, if he had changed. Because you knew Venus, you dropped it, gave her time to mull it over. You supported her when she wanted to reconnect with her grandson. She was eighty-six, after all, you told her, there was no reason to wait. And so emails were exchanged, and they met.
“Of course you encouraged Venus’s relationship with Rob, Veronica, and you undermined Alexander as subtly as you could, poked gentle fun at Guthrie for his drinking and his womanizing, shook your head mournfully whenever you spoke of Hildi and Glynis, in short, you set the stage for the return of the prodigal son to the queen herself. You were pleased they quickly became close, though you had little to do with that. You watched and waited.
“And Marsia did her part. She attached herself to Rob, drew him in, encouraged him to rekindle his relationship with Venus.” He turned to face Marsia. “Did you and Veronica wonder which of them would contact the other first? Your marrying Rob should have been enough for you, you might have succeeded at that, if not for Delsey.
“Rob no doubt told you Venus had given him back his full share of stock in Rasmussen Industries as Guthrie’s son. I would bet it was you who hatched the idea of killing Venus. She was the only remaining obstacle to your big prize—incredible wealth—and you didn’t want to wait for it. Given Venus’s excellent health, it could be years. Rob Rasmussen and his new wife would inherit a fortune.”
Alexander looked back and forth from Veronica to Marsia, clearly disbelieving. “Wait, are you really saying Veronica gave Grandmother the arsenic? Veronica?”
“Of course. Who else in the house could have done it? Other than you, of course, or Guthrie. The symptoms of arsenic poisoning aren’t immediate. She and Marsia were counting on that fact. After a bit of research on metalwork, I discovered arsenic can be mixed in with copper, tin, and other metals to create varieties of bronze. It makes casting easier, gives a silvery sheen to the metal surface, much like some of the sculptures we saw in your studio, Marsia. It won’t take long to find your supplier.”
Alexander said, “You’re saying Veronica put the arsenic in my bathroom?”
“Yes, but not at first. They hoped to kill Venus with the arsenic without anyone knowing, without anyone suspecting she’d been poisoned. Her natural death would not be unexpected, and they wouldn’t do an autopsy that might detect arsenic. But Venus didn’t cooperate. She stayed alive and grew suspicious, and that alarmed them. I think that’s when Veronica and Marsia decided to implicate someone else, in case it was discovered Venus was being poisoned with arsenic, and who better than you, Alexander, since you were in line to inherit control of Rasmussen Industries, and sat squarely blocking their road to even more power?”
Alexander said, “But what about Vincent Willig? Why did he come out of nowhere and try to shoot Grandmother, here at our house?”
“They were afraid that simply planting the arsenic wouldn’t be enough to allay suspicions, Alexander, and Venus was still alive. They needed to act quickly. Perhaps if she were shot and killed before an investigation got under way, they could still have their prize. They arranged for Willig to shoot Venus before she had a chance to call us at the FBI. Luckily she beat them to the punch, but just barely—no one expected us to be there. Putting Willig’s number on your cell phone, Alexander, was an extra precaution, another nail in your coffin.”
Hildi said, “But who was this man, this Willig? How did either of these women even know a criminal, an ex-convict?”
Savich smiled. “Do you know, when I set MAX my laptop to work to do a deep background on Marsia Gay, I found nothing at all questionable. But Willig had to fit somewhere, so I set MAX digging into genealogy records. I found a distant cousin of Marsia’s mother, Eleanor Metzer. She divorced her husband, remarried and had a son—and suddenly all the pieces slotted neatly together. The son’s name was Vincent Willig.
“He and Marsia grew up in the same town, must have known each other. I imagine Willig called her when he was let out of prison, and the timing was perfect. I wouldn’t be surprised if she seduced him, to tie him to her, no reason to take any chances, and promised him the moon. Asking Willig to kill someone wasn’t a problem because Willig was a psychopath, the perfect tool. The fact that he wasn’t very bright was a plus because that meant he didn’t think too deeply.
“Sherlock pointed out that in the end it wasn’t Vincent’s stupidity that brought him down, it was sheer bad luck. Sherlock and I didn’t leave when Vincent thought we did. And that was why we got Willig. I’ve got to say, Marsia, you still kept your head, you didn’t panic.
“Veronica saw him lying in that hospital bed, knowing he wouldn’t be willing to go back to prison for life. You faced your biggest crisis. If he rolled on you, it was over. And he tried to, that afternoon when Venus offered him a hundred thousand dollars to give us the name of whoever had hired him—of course, no one believed him.”
Veronica opened her mouth, but Savich held up his hand. “No, don’t bother to deny it, Veronica. It couldn’t have been anyone else but you who killed him. Were you smart enough not to drive your car with its GPS to the hospital? You worked as a nurse’s aide for several years while you were finishing your
psychology degree at Smith. More than enough time to learn how hospitals function, what the nurses’ duties are, where the drug supplies are kept.”
Marsia had sat in the beautiful antique wing chair, her legs crossed, her capable hands folded in her lap, no expression on her face. She hadn’t moved. Veronica, on the other hand, was wringing her hands, her expression frantic, clearly not knowing what to do.
Time for the kill shot. Savich said to her, “When Marsia told you about Rob meeting Delsey, you saw your beautiful dream evaporating. You weren’t about to let that happen. You didn’t think through what you were doing, you acted. Luckily for Delsey, you failed.
“Do you know, it’s very possible Delsey will never forgive Rob for keeping his relationship with Marsia from her, and that would mean you brought down your house of cards needlessly.”
Veronica looked at Rob, dislike clear on her face. “If he’s anything like Alexander, like his father, he’d have talked her around. I only wanted—”
Marsia said, not raising her voice, “Shut up, Veronica, please shut up.”
Savich continued to Veronica, “Venus told me you’d become her dearest friend. She didn’t want to believe it when I told her what you’d done. She cared for you so very much. You broke her heart.” He paused. “It turns out, your heart belongs to someone else—you’re in love with Marsia.”
61
* * *
Savich watched Rob finally turn to Marsia. He looked both stricken and confused. “You—you’re gay, Marsia? You were faking everything?”
“Don’t be absurd,” Marsia said. “Really, Rob, we are very well suited, not only emotionally, but physically. You’ve never questioned that before. Why would you now?”
Glynis laughed. “Great nonanswer, Marsia. You’re that good? Well, I suppose you’d have to be. Rob, don’t be naive, she could have faked it without a problem. What a marvelous joke.”
Marsia raised her chin, said pleasantly, “I am not gay. I find it distasteful.”
Veronica gasped, her eyes laser sharp on Marsia’s face, brimming with questions, with accusations. With hurt.
“Don’t you see, Veronica?” Savich said. “Marsia set out from the beginning to use you, to seduce you, to manipulate you, just as she did Rob, and Willig. It was always you who were at risk. You were the one who gave Venus the arsenic, who took the risk of killing Willig, and who shoved Delsey in front of that limousine. Not Marsia, you. And you would have gained so much less than she, maybe nothing at all. Marsia never loved you. I doubt she’s ever loved anyone.”
Veronica’s voice was a whisper. “Is he right, Marsia? That you never loved me?”
“For goodness sake, Veronica, don’t be a fool. Just be quiet.” She turned to Savich. “This is an amazing display of imagination, but I think it’s time to bring this fabrication to a close. I want to speak to a lawyer, and if I were you, Veronica, I would do the same.”
“I wouldn’t listen to her, Veronica. She’s protecting herself, not you. It’s time for you to tell me why you’ve done this.”
The room fell instantly silent as slowly, they turned to see Venus Rasmussen standing in the open doorway, dressed in an elegant Armani gray suit, perfectly presented, Sherlock beside her. He got a discreet whiff of Venus’s signature Chanel perfume. Only he had realized Sherlock had slipped out.
Venus never looked away from Veronica, now pale as death, her pupils dilated and wild. “I really didn’t want to believe Dillon when he told me you were the one who put the arsenic in my drink here at home. It made sense, of course, but I simply couldn’t accept it, not after fifteen years of my affection and support. It was I who helped you set up your business, made certain you prospered. I couldn’t understand how you could do something so—evil. That woman, Marsia, you fell in love with her, didn’t you?”
Veronica took a step toward Venus, but Glynis grabbed her arm.
Veronica shook her off. “Does it really matter now, Venus? Listen, I didn’t want to do any of it, it wasn’t my idea. She told me she would tell you about me if I didn’t do what she said.”
“Veronica, I’ve known for a long time you’re gay—the little things you’d say, how your face would light up sometimes when you were speaking to a woman on your cell phone. Of course I knew about your affairs over the years, discreet ones, but I knew. It was up to you to raise the issue with me if you wished. It made no difference to me. But it must have been lonely for you.
“And then you found Marsia, or she found you and she made all the loneliness fall away when she got her hooks into you.” Venus turned to Marsia. “Such a pity for you that I didn’t die, that I’m here facing you, the picture of eighty-six-year-old health. I heard Dillon say you were unlucky. Your bad luck was that he and Sherlock are dear friends of mine, and they walked through that door the very afternoon you had me scheduled for murder. Your relation Vincent Willig was a psychopath. It obviously runs in the family.”
Marsia looked Venus up and down. “You miserable old biddy. Why am I not surprised you made a grand entrance? It seemed too coincidental to me that you would be at death’s door so conveniently when you’d hung on to life like a leech for eighty-six years.” Marsia laughed. “I see, there isn’t a new will. How rich. That ridiculous lawyer, he was in on it, obviously. Where is he, hiding in a closet?”
“No,” Venus said. “Isabel took Mr. Sullivan down the back stairs. He’s having cake and tea with Mr. Paul and Isabel in the kitchen.” She smiled at each of her family. “I do apologize to all of you for upsetting you. Dillon thought a bit of playacting would help all of us get to the truth.”
Savich said to Marsia, “We had to turn to you sooner or later once all that evidence against Alexander was handed to us, clumsily planted at best and far too obvious. We followed through with questioning Alexander as we were meant to. I’ll bet that was Veronica’s idea, wasn’t it? You wouldn’t have overplayed your hand in such a manner.”
Marsia flicked a contemptuous look toward Alexander. “Oh, that ridiculous fool over there? Who’s to say he wasn’t stupid enough to leave the arsenic there? Perhaps both he and Veronica are behind all of this? I want a lawyer.”
Savich said, “I have agents outside to escort you and Veronica to the Daly Center. You can call your lawyers from there.” He punched his cell and called them in.
Venus waited until the two women were marched out, waited until she heard the front door close. She smiled at Savich and nodded, moved to stand behind a chair and faced her family. “Alexander, I never accepted that you were the one who was trying to kill me. Dillon didn’t, either. I hope you now accept that I love you. I’ve always loved you. You will remain my right hand at Rasmussen. When I die, you will have controlling interest.”
Venus turned to her youngest grandson. “And you, Rob, my dear boy, I am so happy you are back in my life. I have missed you, prayed for you, always wished you would return home. I am so pleased you have become a fine man, the man you were meant to be.”
Rob roared to his feet. “You believe me a fine man? It was because of me you could have died! I believed I loved her, Grandmother, or loved the person I believed she was. And look at what I did—I brought her into your life.”
Venus waved a weary hand. “Enough drama, Rob. Please, I am so tired of all the drama that’s swirled around this house for the past week. You’re back to stay, Rob. I will not let you out of my life again. If you wish to join Rasmussen Industries, you will be welcomed. If you prefer to continue on your own path, that is your choice as well. It’s your life to live as you wish, with no meddling from me.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Dillon speaks well of this Delsey Freestone girl. Would you like me to put in a good word for you with her?”
Rob gave her a huge smile. “I thought, Grandmother, you just promised me no meddling.”
“All right, but if you need me—” She smiled at each of her family in turn. “All of you, I am so relieved and happy we’re together again, with no more suspicions, with no more li
ngering doubts. The Rasmussens have won. I love you all. I hope at least some of you can stay for dinner.”
Isabel lingered outside the doorway for a few moments and then hurried back to the kitchen, smiling hugely. “Mr. Paul, it’s over. The family is safe, and together. This is your cue.”
Mr. Paul rose from his chair and clapped his hands. “I do not think I will begin with my roast duck, but with espresso and my excellent éclairs. I think the family can use the sugar.”
62
* * *
MALIBU
FRIDAY EVENING
It was after nine o’clock when Cam, followed by Daniel, drove back toward Malibu to Missy’s cottage. She was looking forward to finally getting some sleep. She turned her Toyota onto Colony Road and saw a shadow, looked hard, and realized it was Blinker. He saw her car coming and slipped behind some bushes four houses from Missy’s cottage.
She was tired, she was frustrated, and the dam burst. She wanted to grab him, hold him upside down and shake him by his feet, do whatever it took to let him know he was messing with Missy for the very last time. She slammed to a stop, flew out of the car—with Daniel close behind her—and chased him down. She tackled him and flattened him facedown with all her weight, straddled his back, and slapped the back of his head.
“You moron! I can’t believe you’re back here again. I’m going to announce what you’ve been doing on Good Morning America, with your color photo. I’m going to tell your mother. Where does she live?”
“You think I’d tell you that?”
Cam smacked his head again.
Daniel came down on his haunches beside them. “Not a problem, Cam. I’ve got a file on him now. His mom is Carrie Bayley, and she owns a bakery in Cleveland. We can call her in the morning, tell her all about what her precious son has been doing. Maybe she’ll haul you back home, Blinker. Hey, maybe better yet, we can save her the trouble. We can motor you a mile out in the ocean and toss your sorry self overboard.” Daniel rose, lifted Cam off his back. She was red in the face, still breathing hard. He grabbed Blinker’s arm and flipped him onto his back. He stood over him, arms crossed, staring down at him. “My boat’s at my house up the road, not far at all.”