Manolos in Manhattan (45 page)

They didn’t find a crowbar. All they found was an old set of golf clubs.

Hugh withdrew a nine iron and eyed it with misgivings. “It might do the trick, but I doubt it. Let’s try, shall we?”

He brought one end of the club down hard against the lock, but although it shuddered, it held fast. He threw the club aside in disgust. “This won’t do. We need a crowbar, or a hatchet.”

“Wait a minute...Dad hired a contractor to fix a couple of cracks in the foundation. He left his tools in the back of the house. I think I saw a pickaxe. Would that work?”

“A pickaxe,” Darcy declared, “would be perfect.”

After retrieving the axe and returning with it to the basement, Holly handed it to Hugh. “I hope you can get that trunk open with this thing.”

“I hope so, too,” he said grimly. “Stand back.”

Obediently she did as he asked and stepped away, anxiously waiting and watching.

Darcy lifted the pickaxe and swung it back over his shoulder. With his eye fixed on the lock, he brought the axe down with a resounding slam. The gratifying sound of snapping metal met their ears as the lock broke off and fell to the floor.

Hugh dropped the axe and turned, his chest rising and falling slightly, to Holly. “Well, Miss James? Are you ready to have a look in the trunk?”

Holly bit her lip. “Yes...no...I don’t know! Oh, Hugh – what if Daisy’s not in there? I couldn’t bear it if she wasn’t in there.”

“Let’s find out, then, shall we?” he said.

So saying, he dropped onto his knee as Holly huddled next to him, and slowly, he lifted the trunk’s lid.

Chapter Eighty

Holly gasped as Hugh threw the lid back, and her hands rose to her face.

Inside, just as they’d feared and hoped in equal measures, was a skeleton, its arms tucked in and knees bent to fit into the dark interior of the trunk. There was nothing else, except a few shreds of what looked to be dark-green wool.

“Daisy,” Holly whispered.

“We won’t know for certain that it’s Daisy,” Hugh warned as he straightened, “not until the remains are analyzed and identified by Forensics. We need to call the police.”

“So it’s true,” Holly murmured, as if she hadn’t heard him. “Dora really
did
kill Daisy the night she planned to elope, and she hid her body in this trunk.” She felt her eyes fill with tears. “All this time, when everyone wondered where she’d disappeared to, Daisy was right here.”

She began once again to cry, aware as she did of Darcy’s arms enfolding her.

“Sorry, it’s so just so sad,” she sniffled against his chest. “Poor Daisy never even had a chance to be happy.”

“I wouldn’t say that. After all, she found Bix, her one true love – even if they weren’t together very long. And not many people can say that.”

Holly looked up at him. “That’s true.”

“And theirs was a love that will outlast eternity,” Darcy added, his eyes intent on hers.

“Do you think so?” she asked.

“I do. I think that, thanks to you, Daisy’s found her happy ending.”

“I hope so,” Holly said fervently. “I really do.”

He hesitated. “Holly...”

“Yes?”

“I don’t wish to speak out of turn,” he began, “but there’s something I feel I must say.”

She sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “What’s that?”

“From the first night I spoke to you – the night of your father’s pre-launch party – I found you most...”

“Most what?” Holly prompted, and blushed. “Intriguing? Sexy? Mysterious?”

“No. I found you most perplexing.” He frowned. “I still do. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, before or since.”

“And is that a good thing,” she retorted, “or bad?”

His eyes, so dark and intense, searched hers. “It’s a good thing, I think. A very good thing.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you for that. I think.” She was surprised by the wave of disappointment she felt. Here she’d thought Hugh Darcy was about to profess his love for her, in a most romantic and, truthfully, uncharacteristic manner. “We’d best go back upstairs and phone the police.”

She turned away.

“Holly, wait.” Hugh caught her hand in his and drew her back. “There’s...there’s something more I’d like to say.”

She waited, and ignored the hope that leapt in her heart.

“I – that is,” he said, and raked a hand through his hair, “I...like you, a great deal. In fact,” he took a steadying breath “in fact, I think I may be in love with you.”

Holly stared at him. “You think,” she echoed, “but you’re not sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” He looked increasingly uncomfortable. “Holly, damn it, I just told you I love you.”

“Is that what you said? It sounded more like a legal clause than a declaration of love.”

As she met his glare and the haughty tilt of his chin, Holly couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“Oh, Mr Darcy,” she murmured as she threw her arms around his neck, “I thought you’d never say the words.”

His mouth found hers and his arms tightened around her. And although his kiss left her breathless with desire and set her lips tingling and her legs trembling, at the same time, kissing Mr Darcy was like coming home again.

It was real, and right, and perfect.

Reluctantly Holly drew back and bracketed his face gently between her hands. “I love you, Hugh. I think...no, I’m sure – that I always have.”

“I’m glad.” He paused. “I do have one question, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Are you sure you’re not on the rebound?”

She smiled and kissed him again. “Positive.”

Chapter Eighty-One

As the memorial service for Daisy Drayer drew to a close, the jaunty strains of “I Can’t Give You Anything but Love (Baby)” filled the chapel. Bunches of daisies and lavender decorated the altar. The flapper’s portrait, standing on an easel at the front of the chapel, smiled out cheekily on those who’d gathered to celebrate her life.

And thanks to the publicity over the decades-old mystery of Daisy’s disappearance, the chapel was packed.

Daisy would have loved this
, Holly reflected with satisfaction. The music, the flowers...there was even a family member present ‒ Klaus von Karle, who’d cleared his schedule to attend the memorial service for his Great-Aunt Daisy.

“The service was perfect,” he pronounced as he came forward to clasp Holly’s hand in his gloved one and lifted it to his lips. “My grandmother Dora would be very pleased.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you could join us.” Holly glanced at Chaz, who hovered just behind Klaus. “Both of you,” she added pointedly.

“You did a great job,” Chaz murmured, and came forward to hug her as Klaus wandered off to take a call. “I’ve missed you, Holly. And I’m sorry I was such a twat.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Forget it. I have.” She paused. “So how’s it going with Klaus?”

“Great,” he said quickly. “Fabulous. Couldn’t be better.”

“But...?” she prodded.

Chaz sighed. “God, you know me too well. Everything’s okay, I guess, but I think‒” he lowered his voice “‒I really think Klaus is a little too old for me. I mean, I know he’s had Botox, and a nip and tuck here and there; but I had no
idea
how old he really was until all this flapper stuff came up.”

“Well ‒ do you like him?”

Chaz nodded. “He’s fascinating, clever, smart...and that’s the problem. He’s out of my league. I don’t feel like I can be myself. I’m always trying to be, like, Super Chaz. And it’s exhausting.”

“Holly, what a lovely memorial service,” her mother exclaimed as she swooped down on them and enveloped first Holly and then Chaz in a brief, Guerlain-scented embrace.

“Thanks, Mum. We’re having refreshments back at the brownstone if you and dad want to go.”

“Yes, I’d like that.” She leaned forward and confided, “We’ll probably ride over there together, your father and I. We’ve patched things up.” She extended her hand to display a blindingly beautiful wedding ring.

Holly let out a squeal. “Do you mean to say you’re getting
married
again?”

“Yes! We’re renewing our vows. Isn’t it wonderful?”

After congratulating her mother and leaving her to talk about appropriate vow-renewal attire with Chaz, Holly went outside in search of her father. She wanted to congratulate him as well.

Halfway down the front walk, she stopped. A sleek black limo idled at the curb.

As she stared at it, the tinted rear window rolled down to reveal Ciaran Duncan.

“Ciaran? What are you doing here?” Holly demanded as she stalked up to the car.

His face, what she could see of it behind his dark glasses, was miserable. “I came to say sorry. I know that what I did to you and your family was reprehensible, and I know I have no right to ask, but...please, don’t hate me, Holly. I honestly never meant to hurt you.”

“Well, you did.” All the anguish he’d caused her – still painfully fresh in her mind – resurfaced.

“I know. And I despise myself for it, truly. I can’t eat, can’t sleep...I never meant for you to know about the blackmail, obviously. And,” he added hesitantly, “I have another confession.”

She crossed her arms against her chest. “Only one?”

“Do you remember the night Jamie cancelled your dinner plans, and you and I went to the Shake Shack instead?”

“Yes, of course. It was raining, and you pulled up in the limo and said your dinner date had just cancelled. Jamie had just got a last-minute reservation for a private party.” She frowned. “They never showed.”

He looked uncomfortable. “Yes, about that. I made that reservation.”

She blinked. “You? Why would you do that?”

“I wanted to make sure Jamie would stay late at the restaurant, so you and I could spend a bit of time together.”

“But that’s – that’s...reprehensible!” she sputtered.

“It worked, though, didn’t it?” He paused. “I really did want to marry you, Holly. We were good together.” He studied her. “We still could be.”

She stared at him, amazed at how convincing he was, amazed that even now, after everything he’d done to her, after all of the lies, she still entertained a tiny flicker of...what? Hope? Regret?

Insanity?

“I’m sorry, Ciaran,” she said finally, “but that ship sailed. No, it sank...like the Titanic. But you’re good, I’ll give you that. Just for a nanosecond, you almost had me convinced.”

“I’m not acting,” he protested. “I honestly do miss you, Holly. I want you back.”

Holly opened her black silk clutch and unzipped the pouch. “I’m glad you’re here, actually, because I have something that belongs to you. Sorry I didn’t return it sooner, but I’ve been a little busy.” She withdrew the engagement ring and held it out to him, and it caught the sunlight and sparkled between her fingers.

It occurred to her that she this was the second time she’d given an engagement ring back, and the thought made her sad.

Ciaran shook his head. “Keep it. It’s yours.”

“I don’t want it. I broke our engagement, so I can’t keep your ring. It wouldn’t be right. Besides, it brings back bad memories. An engagement ring should bring happiness, not pain.”

He sighed. Reluctantly, he took the ring and thrust it in his breast pocket. “Well, I won’t say I can’t use the money. All right, then ‒ friends?”

Holly hesitated. She knew she was crazy, but... “Friends,” she said finally. “Goodbye, Ciaran.”

“Goodbye, Holly. Or shall we say...au revoir, instead?”

“Say whatever you want,” she retorted, “but we’re over, Ciaran. And we’re
not
meeting again.”

“You’ll find that I don’t give up that easily,” he replied. “After all, you’re the one that got away.” He smiled.

Then he leaned back, and the limousine glided away from the curb.

Daisy’s death was ruled posthumously as “accidental death by misadventure.” The homicide investigator and forensic pathologist assigned to the case determined evidence of trauma to the back of the skull. The murder weapon had been a heavy blunt object, most likely a lamp or a vase.

“According to the pathologist, Daisy was dead before she hit the floor,” Hugh remarked as he finished reading the report. “Poor girl.”

“At least it was quick. She didn’t suffer a lingering death.” Holly studied him across their table at Shatz’s Delicatessen. “Do you want your pickle?” she asked.

Absently, he handed it over, his attention still on the forensics report in front of him. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“Why didn’t Clyde confront Daisy when he found out she was eloping that night? Why didn’t he try to stop her? Instead, he grabbed the painting and stormed up to the attic.”

Holly shrugged. “Well, he loved Daisy, but he knew she didn’t return his feelings. He probably came back downstairs to confront her afterwards, but by the time he got to her dressing room, Dora had already killed her and hidden the body.”

“I suppose.” He didn’t sound completely convinced. “I do think, however, that Klaus was right about one thing.”

She looked at him blankly. “Klaus?”

Darcy nodded. “When we went to his apartment to confront him about Daisy’s painting, he said something that stuck in my mind.”

“Oh? And what was that?”

He paused. “He said that love sometimes makes people do crazy things.”

“I suppose.” It was Holly’s turn to sound unconvinced. “But I don’t see what that has to do with anything—”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, however, because Darcy cut off her words with his lips – his very persuasive lips ‒ on hers.

When it ended, and Hugh returned, a bit red-faced, to his seat, Holly regarded him in mild astonishment. “Wow. I...wow. That was...incredible. A bit garlicky, as kisses go, but still...very nice...”

“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly, and turned even redder. “I don’t know what possessed me to do such a thing.”

“I do.” Holly leaned forward across the table and pressed her lips softly to his. “Love,” she whispered, kissing him tentatively, “sometimes makes people do...crazy things.”

Then she smiled, and she kissed him again, just to be sure.

Chapter Eighty-Two

“Natalie, please hurry or we’ll miss our flight. It’s time to leave.”