Down the Rabbit Hole

“It was only a few weeks later—we were just back from our honeymoon, Charles and I—when Gareth and Bria, Marcus’s parents, were killed.”

“How?”

“It was an accident.” Charles spoke now, using his free hand to grip Louise’s. “Rain-slick road, a semi lost control, overturned. Eight people were killed, the Fitzwilliams among them.”

“They were so close,” Louise murmured. “It crushed Marcus and Darlene.”

“Take me through tonight.”

“We were coming over, just for drinks. To catch up. We’ve all been so busy, and we wanted to catch up with each other.” She closed her eyes. “And he wanted to talk to me about Darlene—as a doctor.”

“Why?”

“He was worried about her. She wasn’t coping well. She’d closed off from friends—I can’t count the times she’s put me off in the last few months. There’s considerable to deal with, the business, the estate, but Marcus told me she was dragging her heels at every turn. She’s engaged—a great guy—but she’d been drawing back from Henry, too. She’d been secretive. Darlene’s always been so open—naively so, really—but that changed.”

“And that caused friction between them, between the siblings?”

“Some, yes. But not—” Louise shook her head, took a steadying breath. “They loved each other, Dallas, they’re friends as well as family. Darlene was going through a difficult period. They argued. Marcus told me they had a shouting match just today when—”

“Today?”

“She missed an appointment, regarding the estate. And not for the first time. An estate is complex and broad-based and takes a lot of time and work to handle. Marcus felt, and I agree, that settling it, closing it, was important for Darlene. It would help her reach some sort of closure. But she put up a lot of roadblocks. She’d say . . .”

“She’d say what?”

“She’d say she needed to talk to her parents before she signed off on anything.”

“Her dead parents.” Sitting back a little, Eve laid her hands on her thighs. “Was she using?”

Louise sighed. “I’ve never known her to, and I’ve known her most of her life. Henry—her fiancé—told me she was using some sleep aids. Herbal-based, nothing heavy.”

The scene, Eve thought, and the players in it read loud and clear. “She argued with her brother today, came here tonight. You were coming over. As far as you know she wasn’t expected.”

“She wasn’t. She was supposed to meet Henry for dinner, about eight. I hate how this sounds, but he was going to contact me, let me know her mood. We thought a kind of intervention. If it seemed right, Henry would bring her over here, and we’d talk to her together. All of us who loved her.”

“Henry Boyle. Where is he now?”

“You said I couldn’t contact anyone, so . . .” Tears rose up in Louise’s eyes again. “He must be waiting for her. He doesn’t know she’s— I know how it looks.” Some of that toughness came through as Louise leaned forward, gripped Eve’s hands. “I know it looks as if Darlene came here and killed Marcus, then herself. It’s not how it looks. I knew them, Dallas. There’s something else here.”

“What time did you get here?”

“About . . . eight fifteen, eight twenty?” She looked at Charles for confirmation.

“Yes, close to that. When our cab pulled up there was already a crowd, people shouting. The doorman told us it had just happened. Just minutes before. He was pretty shaken up, told us he’d just spoken with her about ten minutes earlier, and she’d gone up to see Marcus.”

“There was nothing I could do for her.” Louise drew in a breath. “Nothing I could do.”

“We ran in,” Charles continued, “both of us thinking of Marcus. Security let us up—they know us, came with us. Marcus didn’t answer, so they bypassed.”

“He was on the floor. I tried to— Maybe if I’d had my medical bag.”

“Louise.” Charles pressed his lips to her hair.

Turning into him, she squeezed her eyes shut. “No, I couldn’t have brought him back. He was gone, but I had to try.” She looked down at the blood on her sweater. “He was family to me. They were family.”

“We contacted you,” Charles said. “Right away. We didn’t touch anything but . . . but Marcus, and contacted you.”

“Was Marcus involved with anyone?”

“No, not right now. For the last several months, he’s been focused on the family business, the estate, the Fitzwilliams Foundation.”

“Who gets the money now?”

“I don’t know.” Because her voice was thick, Louise cleared her throat. “There are aunts, uncles, cousins. Many of them are involved in the business, the foundation.”

“Do you know who I’d talk to about that?”

“Ah, probably Gia Gregg—the family attorney. My family’s, too. She’d know.”

“Enemies?”

Louise shook her head. “I can give you a list of friends, family. I don’t know enemies—though I’m sure he had a few. He was a tough and exacting businessman. He’d been groomed to run the family empire, and he didn’t suffer fools. Someone set this up, Dallas. Someone set this up to make it look as if Darlene killed him, then herself. I’m telling you, that’s impossible.”