Theo looked at her. “You’re not leaving for Amsterdam right away, are you?”
“No, I’ve had enough traveling for one day.”
“Can I buy you dinner tonight? I know a sensational Italian restaurant not far from here.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think so.” She thought of Mother’s warning to stay away from him. Besides, she’d planned some sightseeing in the seaside town of Whitby. “And thanks for your help with Reid, but, if you’ll excuse me, I have some souvenirs to buy.” And phone calls to make. With that, she disappeared inside the shop.
• • •
As the bus ambled along the road to Whitby beneath a sky dotted with clouds, Casey watched shadows spill over the moor. The shapes looked like people hovering in the distance, but after a second look they disappeared, only to reappear farther along the road like ghostly hitchhikers slipping in and out of the earth.
Because of the time difference, she hadn’t been able to get hold of Detective Lalonde, so she left a message with the West Vancouver Police Department about Ziegler’s presence here and his alleged alibi. Since she hadn’t brought her cell phone on this trip, she left the hotel’s number.
A second phone call to Mother in Geneva had eased her mind a little. It seemed that Mother had done her own research and confirmed that Theo had been on that flight and therefore couldn’t have killed Dad, which was why she hadn’t freaked out when Casey told her he was here in England. Even if he wasn’t a killer, there were still trust issues. “Don’t spend too much time with him,” she’d warned. “The man’s a chronic liar and a manipulator.” Mother would know, having mastered those skills herself.
When the bus stopped at the harbor, Casey stepped down. She’d walked two blocks before Ziegler approached her, this time in a sport jacket and white shirt. Oh, hell.
“Please have dinner with me. I promise I’m not up to anything sordid,” he said. “I hate eating alone and I know a great Italian restaurant only a block from here. It’s a busy, very public place, and I’ll even pay a taxi to take you back to the hotel, so you won’t have to be alone with me, okay?”
Well, she was hungry, and she doubted the guy would take no for an answer, anyway. “All right, but you don’t have to pay, and how do you know there’s a good Italian restaurant down the road?”
“I spent several summers in Yorkshire. My father’s parents are from these parts.”
As they walked, she said, “Where’s your mother’s family from?”
“Everywhere. My heritage encompasses three continents and half a dozen cultures.”
He did all right by them. “Are you married, Theo?” Not that she cared, but acting casual and friendly might get him to open up about a few things.
“Part of me still likes to think so. I’m a widower. So, what are your plans after Amsterdam?”
“A trip to Paris. I want to see some people there, including a man named Gustaf Osterman who might have been a client of Dad’s. Do you know the name, by any chance?”
The lashes on those long dark eyes flickered a moment. “He’s a former employee, but we didn’t part on the best of terms and I haven’t seen him in years.” Theo pointed the ruins of a building high on a cliff overlooking the North Sea. “There’s Whitby Abbey. I’ll take you to see it tomorrow, if you like.”
“Sorry, but I’m leaving town early.” No reason to tell him she’d be heading for London first to meet with a couple of Dad’s clients she’d tracked down. “I’ve been wondering why Dad stayed in touch with his fiancee after he went underground? If these Mexicans were after him, wouldn’t she have been in danger too?”
“Exactly. I told Marcus that if he wanted to make his death real, he’d need to break contact with his European friends, which he did, except for her. Gislinde’s an interior designer who moves around with her work, so she hasn’t had a fixed address in some time. Marcus thought they’d have trouble tracking her down, and I suppose he had people watching out for her as well. Anyhow, Marcus and I agreed that it’d be better if I knew as little as possible about his life, so we didn’t communicate. His death had to seem genuine, particularly to his family and close friends.”
Casey studied rows of buildings crammed against the lower slope of the hill on the east side of the city. “I take it you don’t know the name of the man I buried?”
“No.”
Theo opened a heavy oak door for Casey and ushered her into a candlelit room where a painting of a Venice canal and a golden sky covered one wall. The waiter hovered around them, his face beaming as he and Theo spoke Italian. An elderly couple emerged from the kitchen and embraced Theo. Grinning and nodding at Casey, they led her and Theo to a table with a view of the harbor. The waiter handed Casey a menu, and then draped a linen napkin over her lap.
After the couple and waiter left, Theo said, “Try the Filetto di Manzo Capricciosa. Beef medallions in brandy sauce, topped with crab meat and Edam cheese gratinee.” After Theo studied the wine list, the waiter reappeared, took their orders, and left. Theo leaned forward and said, “I’d like to take you to Amsterdam.”
“Thanks, but it’s not necessary.”
She doubted the guy was offering out of kindness. Vincent had overheard Dad argue with him about money, and Reid had confirmed the financial problems. Maybe Theo wanted the missing three million and a chance to get rid of the Mexican clients, if they really existed. She certainly hadn’t noticed any Mexican men following her since the murder.
“Casey, the next stranger you approach about Marcus’s murder could be carrying something more dangerous than a penknife. Why did you come to Europe in the first place? What do you hope to accomplish?”
“To learn more about a life that I knew nothing about.” She paused. “To try and understand why he did what he did.” Like become engaged to another woman without bothering to end things with Rhonda. And to find out if he’d been involved in something criminal.
“I could introduce you to one or two contacts who might have kept in closer contact with Marcus than I did, though I have to say that Gustaf Osterman wouldn’t be one of them. He’s an anti-social man with somewhat of a mean streak, which was why I let him go.” Theo nodded to the waiter who placed their appetizers in front of them. “Besides, I also speak French, Spanish, and German.”
Casey slipped a mushroom cap in her mouth and clamped down. The hot food burned the roof of her mouth. Sucking in air, she reached for her water glass.
Theo grinned and sipped his wine.
“Did Dad ever mention the name Rhonda Stubbs to you?”
“Should he have?”
“She’s my landlady, and she was also engaged to him.”
The food about to reach Theo’s lips wavered. “Is that why you want to meet Gislinde, to tell her that?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I just need to know she’s real.” Casey shook her head. “Rhonda was betrayed by her first husband and best friend in a sleazy affair.” No point in mentioning that the best friend was his part-time courier, Mother. “Then she lost her dad to cancer, her sister to a drug overdose, and finally Dad.”
“Terrible.” Theo slid the fork in his mouth. When he finished chewing, he said, “Tell me about your life.”
She kept it brief. Every time Casey asked similar questions, he steered the questions back to her. By the time they were working on their entrees, she said, “Why won’t you talk about Dad? There are some things I’d like to know about this importing venture of his.”
“I’d rather get to know you and enjoy this meal.”
After they’d finished, Theo ordered dessert for both of them: a meringue swan in a pond of chocolate with raspberry swirls.
“Sounds wonderful, but I’ll have to pass,” Casey said. “I’m allergic to chocolate.”
“A few blemishes are worth the sweet, delicate taste of Mario’s best dessert.”
“It’s not about my face.”
She didn’t want to explain the irritability that overtook her whenever she ate chocolate, though she loved the dark stuff.
“Just try the meringue and raspberry,” he said. “It’s fantastic.”
Casey sat back. “You’re almost as pushy as my ex-husband was. So, what else are you, Theo?”
“I’ll help you find out over the next few days.”
The waiter soon presented her with a meringue swan surrounded by loops of raspberry sauce in chocolate so dark it was almost black.
Casey lifted her fork. “You’ve been warned.” She covered her fork in chocolate and slipped it in her mouth. Oh geez, smooth rich heaven. Casey swept up more chocolate.
