I heard Verity telling him there had been a man in my room, that she had heard me scream, and that he’d escaped through the french doors.
“We have him,” the Colonel said, indicating the now-handcuffed Chad Prescott, who we could see outside on the steps, about to be bundled into the cop car, blue lights blazing like in a true crime scene. I almost smiled through my tears; I thought that would show the bastard who’d claimed he owned this villa. Let him try to take it away from me now, when he was inside a jail cell. Then I remembered, he had come to my aid.
“He’s my neighbor,” I called loudly so the officers outside would hear. “He came to help me. He is not the intruder, that man had a gun, he was wearing black, he got away through the doors.…”
“No one was seen outside, Madame…?” The Colonel gave me a questioning glance.
I could tell that, like I had done with Chad Prescott, he was pretending he could not remember my name. Maybe it was true and he couldn’t. After all, I was not that memorable, except for my red hair.
“It’s Mirabella Matthews,” I said and gave him a sharp look that let him know I knew he knew. He gave me what I assumed was a smile back, a mere lifting of the lips. I took another deeper look at him. Medium height, stocky, rumpled dark hair, an impression of strength, maybe a little dangerous. Of course that could be because of the stubble; a whiskery chin always lends itself to a look of masculinity, a not-quite-had-time-to-shower-and-shave, just-left-my-bed look. I quite liked it, actually. My imagination could take off on a look like that.
“Madame Matthews.” He was not in a joking, lighthearted, flirty mood. He was deadly serious, and with reason. “This is the second time you have been in mortal danger.” He gave me another long look from his flinty, dark eyes—gray, I think, unusual anyway. “You seem to attract trouble.”
He was being mean and I knew it; still he was attractive in an offbeat way. Another of the “bad boys” was how Verity would have described him. You just knew he would be trouble. And right now he intended to give me that trouble, though I had done nothing wrong, only summoned his professional aid.
“I can’t help it if someone pushed me off the road and someone else came into my room with a gun,” I managed to say, albeit tearfully.
“You don’t seem to understand,” he said almost pityingly. “Someone seems determined to kill you. And what I want is for you to tell me why.”
I was suddenly back to the frightened woman I had been before he rescued me. Well, not exactly rescued, but saved me anyway. That man in my room would not, I was sure, have simply gone away. Had the cops not announced their arrival, sirens and lights blazing, I might have been a dead woman, bullet through the chest from that silver gun, the Siamese and the sausage dog sitting helplessly at my head, the canary singing a mournful anthem to my passing.
“I’m scared,” I admitted. “I don’t know any reason why someone should want to kill me. I’ve never done anyone any harm. I don’t even know many people here. I inherited the Villa Romantica from my aunt, I don’t even know much about it.…”
“Do you know about Jerusha?”
I was silenced by his surprising question.
“Jerusha?” he repeated. “The woman who first owned the villa. The woman for whom it was built.”
“I … well, I’ve heard of her, of course. I knew this was her place.”
“Her lover built it for her. It was the most expensive villa on the coast at that time. The grounds alone were several hectares of land. There was a lavish lifestyle, famous guests, many servants.”
“I had heard,” I said, though in truth I did not really know the whole story, it had all happened so long ago. “Surely nobody really cares about all that anymore.”
He was silent for a while, then he said, “Perhaps,” as he got to his feet. “I shall leave two men on duty tonight. You will be safe. Tomorrow, I suggest you get yourself some able-bodied help. For security purposes.”
“Bodyguards, you mean?” I couldn’t believe it. I needed security? “But why?”
“That is a question only you can answer, Madame. But I might suggest you look into your past, into everybody’s past, to find out. Meanwhile, get that security.”
And the Colonel turned and left me, mouth agape, wondering what it was all about.
Part II
Jerusha 1930s
17
Mirabella