Chapter Twenty-Five
TWENTY-FIVE
RONAN
The moment I hang up with Maven, I call my father.
He picks up sounding tired. “Hello, son. This is unexpected. Are you at the office?”
“Yes. I need to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“Why do Esme and Davina Blackthorn think you were involved in Elspeth’s death?”
I’m sure he assumed this was a business question, but as I haven’t asked him for business advice in years, he should have known better. After a brief pause, he covers his surprise by trying to change the subject.
“Who knows why women think anything? Every one of them is more mystifying than the Bermuda Triangle. How did the third quarter profit report turn out? Are we still ahead of the annual projection?”
“Fuck the annual projection. Did you have something to do with her death? Tell me the truth.”
His voice drops. “I’m not alone at the moment. We can talk about this later.”
In the background, I hear Diana say something about a Bentley. Apparently, stepmonster dearest is in the market for a new car.
“Go into another room. I’m not hanging up until you tell me what I need to know.”
He exhales in a huff. But, knowing how persistent I am, he reluctantly agrees. “Give me a minute.”
I hear murmuring in the background, which is probably him making his excuses to Diana. Then there’s a space filled with a low, mechanical hum. Then he comes back on sounding guarded and much less tired than before.
“Since when are you talking to Esme and Davina?”
“I’m not.”
“Then who did you hear it from?”
“That’s not important. Let’s get back to the question.”
He’s not so easily dissuaded. He demands, “Who? May? Did you run into her around town? You know you shouldn’t get within shouting distance of that feral little cat! How many times have I warned you what she’s capable of?”
Gritting my teeth, I count to five before speaking. “It wasn’t Maven, either, and she’s not a feral fucking cat. Stop deflecting. Were you involved in Elspeth Blackthorn’s death?”
His silence is icy. The longer I don’t speak, the more it thaws, however, until he sighs and gives in.
“No,” he says softly. “I had nothing to do with it. I would never have harmed Elspeth. She wasn’t like the rest of that family. She was different. Different from any other woman I’ve ever met.”
Confused, I frown. His voice almost sounds tender. He never sounds tender, not even when he’s talking about money. Something is very wrong.
Then it hits me.
Did he have a thing for Maven’s mother?
Oh fuck. Did they have a thing for each other?
A nasty little seed of horror sets down roots inside my brain and sprouts. If they had a thing for each other, and they consummated that thing, Elspeth could have become pregnant.
Which means Maven and I could be related by blood.
My heart hammering, I say gruffly, “Did you … were you and she…?”
“What?”
“Were you sleeping with her?”
He roars, “I will not discuss this nonsense for one moment longer!”
We’re both so shocked by his uncharacteristic outburst, we’re silent for a while.
Then I surprise us both by saying calmly, “That’s why you always warned me away from Maven, isn’t it?
Why you were always so adamant that I keep my distance, why you said all those awful things and tried to make me hate her.
She’s yours, isn’t she? Maven Blackthorn is half Croft. You’re her fucking father.”
He says flatly, “If you ever speak of this again, you’re dead to me.”
After that, neither of us knows what to say, so I hang up without saying anything.