Seventh Chapter Read online

  “So Bianca isn’t a local girl?”

  Brooke shook her head. “Sam met Bianca, who was a beautiful, vivacious woman by any standards, while vacationing in the Bahamas. I guess it was love at first sight, because they were married just months after they met. They seemed to be a fairy-tale couple: young and rich and good-looking. Even Sam’s dad, who hadn’t liked Bianca at first and had thought she was a gold digger, changed his tune when he saw she was not only beautiful but strong-willed, and had political aspirations for Sam.”

  “It sounds as if both Bianca and her new father-in-law had plans for Sam that might not have been his own.”

  Brooke nodded. “Exactly. Bianca is very persuasive, and Sam was putty in her hands. He began to show an interest in the island council, and when his father retired, he happily took his place. It was Bianca who created the Castle Foundation; a charitable foundation for sure, but one that was also self-serving, if you ask me. On the surface, it appeared Sam was in the driver’s seat, but it was Bianca running the show all along.”

  “Then what happened?” I asked.

  “Sam met Angelica.”

  “The woman he’s involved with now?”

  Brooke nodded. “He seems to be in love with her, although I think she’s as much of a user as Bianca. I doubt it will work out in the long run, but Angelica managed to open Sam’s eyes to what he was missing. Bianca moved out, and Sam filed for divorce. Part of her settlement was that she’d retain her position as executive director of the Castle Foundation. I’m sure you realize she’s compensated very well for her role with the organization. She uses the Castle name to gain contributors and to give the organization legitimacy.”

  “So Glen Pierson is Bianca’s candidate. She plans to use and control him the way she used and controlled Sam,” I said.

  Brooke nodded. “Bianca still needs Sam—or at least she needs the reputation the Castle name provides for her—so she hasn’t done anything to completely sever ties with him. Sam divorced her, but it was all quite amicable. Bianca is doing what many first wives do: rule in a man’s world by having a man as a figurehead.”

  “I guess I can see why she’s so pushy. Thanks, Brooke. You’ve filled in a few gaps for me.”

  I was just returning to the truck when Jack texted to ask if I could stop by Bianca’s to pick up the feature that would be published instead of the ad she’d wanted to run. I asked him why she couldn’t just e-mail it, and he texted again to say she wanted to take a couple of photos to be used in place of the campaign photos she’d planned to run. Jack had somehow managed to talk Bianca into trading a full-page ad for her candidate for a full-page article describing the work being done by the Castle Foundation. Way to find a compromise!

  Chapter 11

  Bianca Castle lived in an oceanfront estate just north of Gull Island. The grounds were gorgeous. Not quite as large and opulent as the one Sam still lived on, but very, very nice indeed. Brooke had indicated Bianca pulled in a nice salary from the Castle Foundation, but based on the size and location of her property, I was willing to bet she’d received a nice financial settlement as well.

  “You aren’t Jackson Jones,” Bianca said when she opened the front door in response to my knock.

  “I’m Jill Hanford. I work with Jack. He asked me to come by to get the photos because I was already out.”

  “Very well.” Bianca sighed. “Come on in.”

  I took a step into the large entry hall after Bianca. I was sure Jack must have used his charm to wiggle out of the political ad without angering such a powerful woman, but he may have done too good a job; from the way she was dressed, it appeared she had assumed he was going to take the photos himself and had a few other activities in mind.

  “Your home is lovely,” I said in an attempt to break the tension that had been created when Bianca realized she wasn’t going to have her cake and eat it too.

  “Thank you. Are you an experienced photographer?”

  I nodded, even though technically I wasn’t. “I can promise I’ll do a good job. Did you have something specific in mind?”

  “I thought we could take the photos in the office where I conduct business. I’d like something professional. A spread that will let the world know we’re a serious foundation with serious goals and the means to make them happen.”

  I held up my camera. “Of course. Lead the way and we’ll take a look at what we have to work with.”

  I followed Bianca down the hallway. Her heels clicked in rhythm on the marble floors as she quickened her pace, which clearly indicated she was a serious woman on a tight schedule and I’d best keep up if I didn’t want to be left behind. Upon arriving at the office, which was larger than many people’s houses, the first thing I noticed was the floor-to-ceiling fireplace. The second was the wall of photos, which featured, among other images, a large photo of Bianca sitting on the hood of a black Maserati convertible. I supposed to an untrained eye in the dark, a Maserati could be mistaken for a Corvette.

  I walked over to the photos. “Nice car.”

  “Thank you. She was my gift to myself when my divorce became final.”

  “I love cars, especially sexy sports cars. I don’t suppose you’d let me take a peek?”

  “I’m afraid she’s in the shop. Maybe another time. Now, about the photos you’re taking… Perhaps we should start with me sitting behind my desk.”

  I nodded. “That sounds like a good place to start.”

  I spent the next twenty minutes snapping photos, making sure I angled the camera to capture the photos on the wall several times. My heart was pounding the entire time as my mind screamed not to give away the fact that I was pretty sure I’d just solved both murders.

  “I think that should do it,” I said, once again trying to mask my urgency to get out of there.

  “Are you sure? We haven’t even taken any outdoor shots.”

  “I think what I have is fine. And I think you’ll be pleased with the article. I’ll put together the spread as soon as I get back to the newspaper, and either Jack or I will send it over for your approval.”

  Bianca frowned. “Is there something wrong? You seem a little fidgety.”

  I shook my head. “No. Nothing’s wrong. I just have a lot to do today. You know how it is on the day before going to print. There are always last-minute details to take care of.”

  Bianca raised a perfectly shaped brow. “I see. Well, if you’re sure you have everything…I’ll walk you out.”

  “No need,” I said much too quickly. “I can find my way.”

  I was halfway down the hall when I heard Bianca call my name. I cringed, then turned around, half-expecting her to have a gun at my back. Wasn’t that the way these things usually went in the movies? The heroine figures out who the killer is, then ends up with her life on the line. Instead, Bianca was holding the lens cap of my camera.

  “Oh, geez, thank you,” I said as I headed back down the hallway toward the woman I was certain had killed two people. “I wouldn’t want to forget that.”

  Bianca frowned. From the expression on her face, my behavior was setting off some alarms in her head. “No, I guess not.”

  I took a slow breath. “And thank you again. It’s been lovely meeting you.”

  I turned and walked slowly down the hall, almost waiting to hear the sound of a shot as it stole my life, ending once and for all what might have been.

  ******

  “Okay, slow down,” Rick said twenty minutes later as I tried to explain what I’d discovered. “Are you saying Bianca Castle pulled a gun on you?”

  I shook my head. “No. But she seemed suspicious, and I felt as if she might pull a gun on me.”

  Rick furrowed his brow. “So, she didn’t have a weapon, but you’re terrified anyway because you imagined she might.”

  “Exactly.”

  Rick leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe you should back up a bit, because so far, this isn’t making any sense.”

  I
took a long drink from the glass of water Rick had poured for me when I’d first arrived. I’d had the entire drive over to imagine what could have happened and was pretty rattled.

  “I talked to Brooke, who told me it was Bianca who actually started the Castle Foundation. She was also the force behind Sam’s political career while they were married, and the one who seemed to have the most ambition.”

  Rick nodded. “I agree with that assessment. But what does that have to do with you thinking she was going to pull a gun on you?”

  “You said at lunch that Billy’s neighbor saw a car that might be a Corvette pull into Billy’s drive after Sam left. When I was at Bianca’s, I noticed a photo of a black Maserati on the wall of her office. I could see how it could look like a Corvette to an inexperienced eye in the dark.”

  “You think it was Bianca who was at Billy’s the night Bosley died?”

  I nodded my head. “It makes sense. We know Sam and Bianca continued to have a relationship of some sort after their divorce. And that Bosley had spoken to Sam about his research before the night he died. What if Sam told Bianca what Bosley was up to? What if on the night Billy called Sam to come over, he was with Bianca? What if she knew where he was going and why, and followed him? If the scandal regarding the founding families came out, it stands to reason the fallout could affect the Foundation, which was Bianca’s baby. What if after Sam left, Bianca confronted Bosley? What if she killed him, and convinced poor Billy to help her dispose of the body? What if Billy’s conscience got the better of him, and he told Bianca he was going to tell what he knew? What if Bianca followed him to the restaurant and killed him when he left?”

  “That’s a lot of what ifs, but your theory might hold water. Do you have any proof?”

  “No. But Bianca told me that her car was in the shop. Find the car and find your proof.”

  Rick frowned. “Bianca might have driven the car to Billy’s on the night Bosley died, but it’s doubtful she drove it again the night Billy died. Remember how hard it was raining?”

  “Okay, check all her cars. I have to believe somewhere you’ll find the proof you need to put her away.”

  Rick paused, steepling his fingers and rocking gently in his chair. “Okay. I like your theory. I’ll work on getting a warrant for Bianca’s home, her garage, and her vehicles.”

  Chapter 12

  Wednesday, October 31

  “I’d like to make a toast,” Vikki said after standing and clicking a knife on her glass. “To my best friend Jill, who managed to make sense of a lot of random clues and solved the mystery of the murders of Bosley and Billy Waller. And to my boyfriend and new roomie, Rick, who got the warrants he needed to find the proof required to make the arrest, and finally, to George and the rest of you, for uncovering the truth behind a very complicated and long-held secret. You all rock.”

  “Thanks, Vikki,” I said in response. “But you don’t need to toast us. You helped too. We all worked together to solve this mystery.”

  Vikki shrugged. “I know. We all work hard to solve these mysteries, but I noticed we never take a minute to congratulate ourselves on a job well done. I think we should.”

  “Hear, hear.” All of us gathered for our Halloween dinner clicked our glasses together.

  “Did Bianca confess?” Garrett asked.

  “Not yet,” Rick answered. “But I understand her attorney is working on a plea deal. We’ll have to see how things works out. There’s no doubt in my mind that woman will be going away for a long time.”

  “I heard Glen Pierson is dropping out of the island council race,” Jack said. “Not that I blame him for wanting to distance himself from Bianca and the Castle family.”

  “So I guess that means Bill Quarterly and Jeffrey Riverton will take the two open seats,” Garrett said.

  I held up a hand. “What about Brenda Tamari? She’s still in the running.”

  Garrett looked doubtful.

  “Well, I’m campaigning for her,” I said, although I had no idea how I’d find the time to do it or if it would do any good with the vote so close.

  “I’ll help you,” Gertie volunteered.

  “Me too,” Vikki said.

  “I’ll do an e-mail blast,” Brit offered.

  Jack put his arm around my shoulders. “I’m in. Brenda would be a much better choice than Riverton.”

  The consensus around the table was that it might be good to see an end to the old boys’ club the council had always been.

  “What’s next for the group?” asked Gertie, who had volunteered to cook the dinner that evening. I had to admit her roast trumped my idea of nachos by a lot. “After the election, that is.”

  “Maybe we’ll take the holidays off and relax a bit,” I said.

  The others thought that would be nice, though I was aware things usually didn’t work out that way. Some time to focus on my relationship with Jack would be welcome, and I knew Vikki and Rick had their own issues to work through and resolve as well.

  “Too bad Alex is missing this,” Brit said. “This meal is delicious.”

  “Why, thank you, pumpkin,” Gertie said. “The autumn soup is an old family recipe of mine, and the seasoned potatoes I’m servin’ with the pot roast is a recipe handed down to Garrett from his great-grandmother.”

  “Thank you for making them,” Garrett said.

  “No problem at all. They’re goin’ to be delicious with Mortie’s horseradish gravy.”

  “Mortie’s horseradish gravy?” I asked. Mortie was the ghost Gertie claimed had lived in her house for over thirty years.

  “Mortie seemed to have been a good cook in life. Several of the specialties I serve at the restaurant are from recipes he’s shared with me.”

  Interesting. Gertie’s specials were to die for, no matter where she got them.

  “I love the fact that Mortie’s legacy lives on through your cooking,” Vikki said. “Not everyone can continue to contribute after they’re gone.”

  “I was thinking last night about the people who died on Skull Island,” George said. “It’s doubtful anyone knew they were there or what happened to them.”

  “We have the names,” I said. “At least some of them, in the register in the church. Maybe we should publish a memorial in the newspaper.”

  Jack set his napkin aside. “I thought of doing something like that, but what’s done can’t be undone, and I think stirring things up even more at this point could do harm to innocent people who live and work on the island today. Even the church was probably involved on some level.”

  “Why do you say that?” Clara asked.

  “The register with all those deaths on November 24, 1924, had to have been filled in by someone. Someone who knew what was going on. And the book was found with other church records that indicated that SIRP stood for Skull Island Research Project.

  Jack had a point. I hadn’t considered that.

  “We could go back,” Meg suggested. “All of us. We could hold a private service for those who died all those years ago.”

  “I like that idea,” I said.

  “Me too,” Vikki agreed.

  We all agreed to find a day to do that the following week, before the weather got dicey.

  After the wonderful meal Gertie had prepared was consumed, we retired to the living room to watch Halloween movies. It was nice being part of a family who were creating new traditions I hoped would see us many years into the future. When I’d come to Gull Island, I wasn’t sure what I would find, but in my wildest imagination, I’d never expected to find the piece of my heart that had always been missing.

  “So, how do you think our cohabitation experiment is going?” Jack asked as we walked from the main house to his cabin.

  “I think it’s going very well. I like waking up to Kizzy,” I teased.

  “And Kizzy likes waking up to you, although I don’t think she’s thrilled that you’ve taken over her spot next to me on something of a regular basis.”

  I shrugged. “I
’m sure she’ll adjust. She’s a good foot warmer, so I’m fine with her at the foot of the bed.”

  Jack laced his fingers through mine and pulled me closer. “How are you feeling about extending our two-week agreement?”

  I paused before answering. “I’m feeling fine about the concept. What did you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking it might be less confusing for Kizzy if you moved in permanently.”

  I glanced down at the dog, who had heard her name and was watching us intently. “I guess it would be a good idea—to make things less confusing for the dog.”

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  Monday, October 22

  The thing that hit me hardest as I stood in a dark and dank basement struggling to make sense of a death by vampire less than two weeks before Halloween, was that someone had gone to a lot of trouble to put this whole thing together. A stormy night, a creepy old house, a dog in peril, a body in the basement, and a legendary killer who couldn’t possibly be real.

  “Walk me through everything that happened from the beginning,” Sheriff Salinger, a nemesis turned friend, said to me after he’d covered the body with a white sheet while we waited for the coroner.

  I reached up to wipe a spiderweb from my hair before I began to speak. “I was at the Zoo.” I referred to Zoe’s Zoo, the wild and domestic animal rescue and rehabilitation shelter I owned. “I was about to close up when I got a call about a barking dog that was reportedly trapped inside an abandoned house. Jeremy usually closes up at five, but he was off today. He’d volunteered to chaperone his daughter Morgan’s preschool field trip to the pumpkin patch. I remembered doing that when I was a kid. So fun.”

  “I don’t think I need quite that much detail,” Salinger said.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. The point is, not only was Jeremy off today but it also happens to be Monday. Aspen’s started working Saturdays so we can offer adoption services six days a week. Because she works Saturdays, Aspen has begun to take Mondays off.” I could see Salinger was becoming impatient with the details of the lives of my employees, Jeremy Fisher and Aspen Wood, but this part was important. “So not only were Jeremy and Aspen not available to take the call, but my third in command, Tiffany Middleton, who recently married Scott Walden, the veterinarian, and has decided she only wants to work half days. She gets off at two.” I paused, giving Salinger time to catch up. “I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.”