Born of Corruption (5 page)

“Who could have done this?” Anna asks.

I can tell she’s spooked and reach for her hand. “You have no idea what happened?”

Her lips tremble. “If I could tell you, don’t you think I would?”

Al gives us both a funny look and says, “I need to make a telephone call. You two stay here.”

“Shouldn’t we tell the others?” Anna asks.

He shakes his head. “Not yet. Stay put.”

Al slips out of the room and I turn to Anna. “Are you sure you haven’t had any more visions?”

She shakes her head, her face miserable. “Just because I saw Reggie die before I even knew him doesn’t mean I know who did it.”

Her voice quavers and I’m immediately contrite for pushing her. “I’m sorry, but I have two dead people in my house! I don’t know what to think.”

“I know.” She squeezes my hand.

I draw in a shuddering breath. “Who could it have been? Do you think it could have been Nico?”

“It’s a possibility. Nico says he was in the bathroom. He could have been anywhere. Hiding.”

“I don’t trust him.”

Anna shakes her head as though she doesn’t trust him either.

Al comes back in, his face grave. “That was interesting,” he says. I wait, knowing there’s more.

“Your uncle put extra men in the neighborhood to watch the place tonight. I just went out and spoke to a couple of them. No one has been seen coming out of the house since shots were fired. Which means the killer is still inside.”

Anna and I look at each other, and I know the fear on her face is reflected in mine.

“But why? Why would someone kill Reggie? Or Eugenia?”

Well, I can see why someone would want to murder Eugenia, but poor Reggie never did anyone any harm. “Maybe someone saw something,” I say. “Maybe one of them was the target and one was in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Anna bites her lip, thinking. “The question is, which one.”

“Or maybe it’s a case of mistaken identity.” Al gives Anna a pointed look.

“Me? Why would anyone want to kill me?” She looks away and I know she’s lying.

I look from Al to Anna, confused. Anna has enemies? Then I remember that Anna was recently kidnapped and shot.

Anna stares at Al, who finally shrugs. “It’s my job to know everything about everyone who comes in contact with Miss Cynthia. Boss’s orders.”

“Mrs. Cynthia,” I murmur, but he ignores me. I shake my head. Anna is one of the sweetest people I know. How could she have enemies?

I rub my temples. As much as I hate it, we should bring in the police. “Go call the cops,” I order. “But call Uncle Arnie first. He needs to know what’s going on.”

Al gives me a crooked smile. “I already did.”

As we follow him out of the kitchen, I turn to Anna. “Why would anyone want to hurt you?” I whisper. “And don’t leave anything out. I’ll know if you do.”

She gives me a weak smile. “What? Are you psychic now?”

“Yeah, so give it to me straight. And hurry, we need to tell the others that we found”—I swallow before saying her name—“Eugenia.”

We stand in the foyer as Al telephones the police from the study. Anna looks down as if trying to decide how much to tell me. I understand. I have secrets too, and Anna’s never been one to share things easily. I wait.

“Let’s just say that I live a complicated life and leave it at that, all right? I’m sure it has nothing to do with what happened here.”

Her voice is pleading and I relent. We all have things we don’t want to share.

I go on. “I don’t think Nico would have mistaken you for Eugenia anyway. Other than the dark hair, you two look nothing alike.”

“Could it have something to do with your uncle?” she asks.

I look up. “Maybe. But nothing has ever happened before and, trust me, he’s been through some pretty dangerous things. Most everyone knows that I’m off-limits.”

“If you’re so off-limits, why do you have a bodyguard and why are there people posted around your house?”

She has a point, but before I can say anything, Al rejoins us.

His face is shuttered and I suddenly wonder if he’d heard what we were talking about.

“My bet is on Nico,” I say quickly. “Just the fact that he’s here makes me suspicious.”

“Maybe,” Al says. “Or maybe something else is going on. This wasn’t the first time shots were fired tonight. Remember what happened at the Cotton Club.”

I suck in my breath. “Do you think the two incidents are related?”

“It’s possible. I’m going to go get the others,” Al says. “You two wait here. Don’t let anyone into the house but the police.”

As soon as he’s gone, I turn to Anna. “I don’t have much time. Jack has a gun. I know he’s been up to something, but I don’t know what it is. I do know that he isn’t a murderer.”

Her eyes widen. “Why are you telling me this?”

Fear and panic beat in my chest. “Because I feel like something horrible is going to happen.”

“Something worse than what has already happened?” she asks.

I nod, wrapping my arms around myself.

Her forehead furrows like she’s trying to figure something out. “So Reggie, Eugenia, Jack, Nico, and Olivia are the ones who aren’t accounted for, right?”

I shiver. “And two of them aren’t talking.” I hug myself tighter, feeling like I have to keep myself in check or I’ll erupt all over the place. Images of shots fired in front of the Cotton Club, the fortune-teller, Reggie in a pool of blood, and Eugenia lying at the bottom of the stairs keep flashing in front of my eyes. Even the spiderwebs in the doorway . . . I suck in a breath, my mind whirling.

“Come with me,” I tell Anna. “Quick, before everyone comes back down.” I hurry to the kitchen with Anna on my heels.

“What are we doing?”

I stop in front of the door leading to the basement, unsure whether this is a good idea or not. Then I shrug. What could possibly happen that hasn’t already happened? I open the door and flick on the light switch. Like before, a deadly cold sweeps over my skin. Eugenia is still lying motionless at the bottom of the staircase, her neck cocked at a funny angle, but I didn’t come back to look at her. Instead, I lean forward and examine the drapery of spiderwebs hanging from the ceiling. Apparently my staff never comes down here either, because the webs are thick and almost undamaged.

Heart pounding, I stare at the silvery strands, trying to remember what they looked like before Al went downstairs.

“What are we looking for?” Anna whispers.

My hand is shaking as I point at the spiderwebs. “She didn’t fall and she wasn’t pushed. The only person who has walked through those was Al. Remember how he kind of bent his head to avoid them? They were intact.”

Anna’s face screws up as she tries to follow my train of thought. “I don’t understand.”

“No one came down here before Al. Which means—” I swallow. “She was thrown. Down low.”

Anna pales and steps back from the doorway. My stomach heaves at the thought of Eugenia being tossed down the stairs like a sack of potatoes.

“Which means she was already dead.” Anna shudders.

The churning in my stomach worsens.

“But how could the killer have brought her body down here with no one seeing?” she asks.

I point to a door on the other side of the kitchen. “The servants’ staircase.”

“Of course. The servants’ staircase. How silly of me.” A hysterical giggle emerges and she clamps a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” God knows I’m a little hysterical myself.

I look back down into the basement. “Maybe Eugenia saw who killed Reggie,” Anna says.

“So we’re back to the original question. Who would want to kill Reggie? And what about Nico? How do he and Jack know each other, and why?” I swallow hard before continuing. “And why does Jack have a gun?”

Anna pales. “Cyn, what about the telephone calls?”

“What calls?” For a moment I’m confused, then I remember. “You think they’re related? Do you think this was planned?”

She shrugs her shoulders helplessly, as confused as I feel.

“Cynthia!”

I hear the panic in Jack’s voice and quickly shut the basement door. Anna and I hurry out of the kitchen and into the lounge, where the others are waiting. Tear tracks streak Olivia’s pretty face. Al must have told them about Eugenia. I squeeze her shoulder and she jumps almost out of her skin. It looks as if my levelheaded personal secretary has a limit to what she can take.

The faint sound of sirens comes into earshot. I shudder. Some people shiver over a wolf’s howl. My hair rises at the sound of the police.

Several cop cars squeal to a stop out front and Jack goes to meet them. We cluster around the door.

“Get back, everyone. Don’t crowd,” a burly cop says importantly. “Who owns the home?”

I step up next to Jack. “We do. I’m Cynthia Gaylord and this is my husband, Jack. We were having a party and heard shots upstairs.”

“I’m Officer Barker and this is Officer Abelli.” He gestures to the dark-haired cop with a nose like a hook.

Five other officers, carrying leather satchels, come in through the front door. Behind them are a couple of men with a stretcher. “Is this everyone here who was in the house at the time of the shooting?”

I nod. “Except for a woman called Mrs. Harriet Spetford. She’s been asleep in the guest bedroom on the third floor most of the evening. She’s indisposed.”

“Where are the bodies?”

“One’s upstairs,” Jack says.

“And the other is in the basement,” I say. Jack pales, and I remember that Eugenia is his cousin, no matter what I think of her. I slip my hand into his.

“Did anyone see anything?” Officer Abelli asks.

Curt shakes his head. “No, I already asked.”

Officer Abelli turns to Curt, one eyebrow raised. “Well, if it isn’t Curtis O’Donnell. I should have known you’d be here. Trouble follows you around like a bad smell.”

Curt gives him a grim smile. “Good to see you too, Officer Abelli.”

I look from one to the other, confused.

Jack snaps his fingers. “I knew your name sounded familiar. “You’re the investigative reporter from the
Daily Tribune
who put Roland Renato behind bars and broke up the Renato family crime ring.”

Curt nods, uncomfortable. “Officer Abelli hates me because he’s a Renato cousin.”

Officer Abelli points a finger at him. “I’m squeaky clean, you little twerp, and everyone on the force knows it. So don’t be making any accusations.”

“Is that true?” I demand. “Are you really an investigative reporter?”

Curt gives a slight nod.

“Is that why you came to my party?” I demand. “What, or should I ask
who
, are you investigating this time, Mr. O’Donnell?”

My face burns. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to use me to take down Arnold Rothstein. The last person who tried it disappeared.

I didn’t ask my uncle what happened to him.

Curt looks away, clearly uncomfortable. “I was just doing some poking around for a friend.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Was that what took you so long at your apartment? You were talking to your friend?”

He shook his head. “No. I was talking to my boss, getting some information on your staff.” He glances at Al, who is watching the proceedings from the corner of the room. He shrugs. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. Your cousin asked me to investigate. She was feeding me information about you for a story on you and your husband. You know, mob princess marries snooty aristocrat. The public would eat that stuff up. And, lordy, did that dame have it in for you.”

I gasp and Jack looks sick.
That bitch!
I only feel a slight twinge of guilt, considering her current state of deadness. If she were alive, I’d kill her myself.

“The plot thickens,” Officer Abelli says, looking from me to Curt.

I glare at Curt as the officers move in to take our statements. Anna’s eyes are huge as she recounts her story and I remember that not too long ago she went through something similar.

Jack and I take the officers upstairs to Reggie’s body and then back down to where Eugenia is lying. Jack turns away, shaking his head.

“Aunt Marge is going to be devastated.”

“So this victim was a relative?”

“My cousin.”

“And an old girlfriend too, apparently,” Curt says smugly.

The strain of the evening has taken its toll on my husband, and I see the exact moment when he snaps. “You arrogant son of a bitch.” He lunges for Curt, but Curt is too swift and shoves him. Hard.

Unbalanced, Jack reels backward, sprawling against a side table. As he does, something falls from his coat onto the floor.

A shot rings out.

I scream and hit the ground for the second time that night. Everyone freezes in various states of shock. Except for the officers, who each drop to one knee, their weapons pointed at Jack.

No one moves.

Finally Officer Barker leans over and picks up the gun. “You got a permit for this, bub?”

Beads of sweat gleam on Jack’s pale face. My stomach plunges when he shakes his head.

“Well, well, we got us a couple of dead bodies and a gun. And if what O’Donnell says is true about you and the deceased woman being friendly, we may just have us a motive, as well.” Officer Abelli nods to Officer Barker. “You and Rodge take this clown into another room and get his statement. I’ll talk to the others.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jack snaps. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yep, you’re Jack Gaylord, but at the moment, I don’t care if you’re the mayor himself.” Officer Barker grabs Jack and yanks him back on his feet.

I look around wildly, stunned by how quickly everything is getting out of control. I step closer to the officers. “Do you know who
I
am?” I ask softly. I shouldn’t use my uncle’s name like this, but I’m desperate. I need to put a stop to this before it goes too far.

“Cyn,” Jack says in a warning voice, but I ignore him.

“My name is Cynthia Gaylord. Cynthia
Rothstein
Gaylord. Maybe you know my uncle Arnold?”

Officer Barker looks confused, but Abelli stills, his features grim.

Apparently he knows Uncle Arnie.

Then he shrugs. “Doesn’t matter if you’re related to the king of Siam, sweetheart. We got a job to do.”