Mary McBride – Romancing the Crown: Nina & Dominic: A Royal Murder (страница 7)
“None evident. Wait for the lab results. That will be in the autopsy report.”
“I guess that’s it,” Ryan said, backing away from the table as the doctor covered the body. A memory flashed. Another covering up, the finality of it triggering something savage in him.
“I’m ready to go,” Nina said.
“Thanks, Doc,” he muttered to Angelo as he guided her out. “I’ll call you later.”
He would have to come here again, Ryan thought with resignation. After the autopsy, he’d have to come back. It never got any easier.
She appeared to be completely recovered, Ryan thought when they exited the elevator on the ground floor. Dry-eyed and composed now, she seemed to be in deep thought. Not at all the emotional wreck she might have been after seeing a beloved brother’s dead body.
Ryan filed away the impression that the bond of affection between Desmond and Nina Caruso must not have been all that tight if her grief was this superficial.
Chapter 3
When they emerged from the hospital, Ryan sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. Better. He squinted against the bright sunlight, welcoming it.
The limo cruised up to the curb and Ryan automatically reached past Nina to open her door. She slid inside.
When he got in, she turned to him and said the last thing he would have expected. “He wasn’t struck from behind.”
“No,” Ryan agreed as he fastened his seat belt and motioned for her to do the same.
“Then whoever did it was facing him, holding the statuette?” “Yes, given the placement of the wound.”
“Could I see the weapon?” she asked.
He sighed. “Nina, you’re taking this
“Maybe,” she admitted, “but I think you should humor me. I do have permission to assist you.”
Well, hell. Ryan couldn’t tell her the real reason the king had sent her directly to him.
“Okay. Tomorrow. We’ll go over the evidence then. Today I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”
She looked pointedly at her watch. “It’s barely one o’clock.”
“We’ll grab a bite of lunch and drop you at the apartment so you can rest.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he warned. “This is not the only case I’m working on, Nina. There’s plenty I have to do this afternoon that has nothing to do with this. I can’t drag you all over the island while I take care of business.”
“But tomorrow you’ll be back on this case, right?”
“Yes, tomorrow morning.”
“And I can go with you?”
He nodded emphatically. “Now, what would you like to eat?”
In a self-conscious gesture, she tucked her hair behind her ears, crossed her arms beneath her breasts and looked out the opposite window. “Oatmeal,” she mumbled.
“Excuse me?”
Defiantly, she turned her head and pinned him with a glare. “I said
“You’re joking, right? I don’t know anywhere in San Sebastian that serves oatmeal.”
She raised one dark brow in challenge. “Well, you did ask.”
Ryan shook his head. He’d known she would be trouble from the minute he’d laid eyes on her. “Your wish is my command. Apparently that’s turning out to be my phrase for the day.”
He leaned forward, pushed the intercom button and ordered the driver to stop at the nearest grocery.
“You’ll have to cook it yourself unless you want me to send you back to the palace,” he told her emphatically. “I don’t do oatmeal.”
* * *
Almost an hour and three grocery stores later, Nina Caruso, her oatmeal, Earl Grey tea, and various other containers of comfort food were safely deposited in the apartment adjacent to his.
She could eat her wallpaper paste and take a nap. He had to figure out how he was going to solve this murder while she was poking her lovely little nose into every aspect of it. All in all, he’d rather stick pins in his eyes, but he had his orders.
Her presence and demands had crowded out the possibility of his lapsing into a couple of hours of depression after the visit to the morgue the way he usually did. For that distraction, he ought to thank her.
It bothered him that she hadn’t seemed all that upset to see her brother’s body. Oh, she’d acted nervous and cried a little, but that could have been for show. Ryan just wished he hadn’t had his own renewal of grief to deal with at the time. He could have been a hell of a lot more accurate in judging whether hers really existed.
He arrived back at his office and went over the other cases he had pending, made a few necessary phone calls and worked on putting Nina Caruso out of his mind until Joe called just before six. “Turn on the news,” Joe advised.
Ortano’s news clip stated that Nina had never been to the island before. She had come now to see that the investigation of her brother’s murder was carried out expeditiously and to offer what assistance she could. Her words to Ortano verified that.
Other than stating the family connection and capitalizing a bit on the emotional aspect of the event, the reporter had little to add of any consequence. The clip was surprisingly low-key. The video was fantastic. Ryan switched off the set and returned to the phone call.
Joe assured Ryan that calls between Nina and her brother—all except the last of which had originated with her—had been few and far between and of brief duration. The last had been two weeks ago, placed from Desmond’s guesthouse to La Jolla, California, where Nina lived. She had neither made nor received any calls since she’d arrived in Montebello.
As for her possessing a motive to have Desmond killed, Joe had not discovered one. Fear, Ryan dismissed. Revenge or jealousy were possibilities. Greed was a contender, too, but Joe assured him that Nina Caruso had a substantial trust fund and a very healthy investment portfolio.
There was an insurance policy her father had taken out on Desmond when he was a child. The premiums on it were paid through a trust which, now that the original capital was no longer needed, would also become Nina’s. But was that enough to prompt her to arrange a murder when she was already fairly well off?
Ryan’s gut told him no. At least, he hoped that was his gut and not another part of his anatomy.
When he called her around seven o’clock to make dinner arrangements, he received no answer. Jet lag must have finally caught up with her, he supposed. Just as well, Ryan thought, totally denying the spark of disappointment he felt that he wouldn’t see her again until morning.
Maybe he should stop in and check on her. She could have experienced a delayed reaction to all that had happened, he told himself. She might be all alone and crying herself sick right now. Suddenly he found himself hurrying to get there and see if that was so.
Nina wasted little time planning the rest of her day after Ryan McDonough left her alone. It was like pulling teeth to get him to let her do anything with regard to Desmond’s murder, and she needed to get on with it. She had a few weeks’ vacation built up, but her job at home wouldn’t wait forever.
She mapped out what she would do as she prepared her lunch and ate it. Rest was necessary. Ryan had been right about that, so she would take an hour or so in preparation for tonight. Later, she would call a cab, return to the palace and see what she could learn about the last days of Desmond’s life. After that, she meant to go over the scene of the crime with a fine-tooth comb.
Forensics should be finished with their official duties there by now. They’d had all day yesterday and today. Nina seriously doubted she would find anything significant that professionals had overlooked, but she needed to get back into that guesthouse all the same.
If nothing else, seeing how Desmond had lived, getting a feeling for his lifestyle here and walking the rooms he had inhabited might give her some clue as to the man he had become since they had last seen each other.
If Ryan McDonough objected when he found out she’d been there, too bad. At least he’d know she wasn’t going to be satisfied with little pats on the head in lieu of his accepting her help. She might not be a qualified investigator, but at least her dedicated involvement might speed things up a little.
When she’d finished eating and cleared the dishes, Nina went into the bedroom, kicked off her shoes, lay down on the puffy slate-blue comforter and closed her eyes.
She liked the accommodations arranged for her well enough. Efficiency over elegance, more practical than pretty. It suited her. Nina liked to think of herself in just those terms. She wondered whether Ryan McDonough’s place next-door suited him. She fell asleep trying to decide what sort of decor would.
She awoke at seven-thirty, disgruntled when she realized she’d slept most of the day. Hurriedly she showered, then chose a lightweight navy jacket and skirt with a matching silk shell. She found her lowest-heeled pumps—dressy, but still great for walking.
What she was wearing looked businesslike, she thought, like something an investigator should wear. It wouldn’t quite do for dinner at the palace, of course, but she wouldn’t presume to impose on the royal family anyway. If she could manage to avoid them, they wouldn’t even realize she was there. This evening, she’d stick to speaking with employees who might have served Desmond in some capacity. Surely there would be footmen or maids around somewhere to give her some names and locations of people who had served at the guesthouse. She would simply explain what she needed and tell them she was working with Ryan.