Chapter 17. Is This the Midpoint Reveal?
Is This the Midpoint Reveal?
“Connor,” I say, “what are you doing here?”
Connor takes a step closer, his cologne tickling my nose. He’s wearing a cream linen suit and a black fedora with white trim. It looks almost … Mafia-esque. “I’m the one asking the questions.”
I drop Oliver’s hand, our moment of complicity evaporating. “On whose authority?”
“Please. You just sicced your students on me. That man Harold got three inches from my face. Not to mention Stefano. I did not consent to being videoed.”
“I didn’t tell them to go after you.”
“Sandrine told me all about it. How you said I was suspect number one in Guy’s murder.”
“Sandrine loves making trouble for me.”
His eyes darken. “Was it a lie? Did you have some other suspect in mind?”
“Do you have a better suggestion?” Oliver says with a trace of menace.
Come on, Oliver.
I knew your hatred of Connor hasn’t been erased.
Connor’s eyes track slowly to Oliver’s. “I might, yes.”
“Are you going to tell us?”
“Not until you tell me what you two were doing in Guy’s office.” He points at us like he’s scolding a child.
“Who says we were in there?”
“You’re still wearing gloves, Eleanor. And whatever file you swiped is half hanging out of your coat, Oliver.”
I pull the gloves off and stuff them in my pocket—amateur mistake. In my defense, I’m still operating on half of my brain cells. “We’re investigating Guy’s death.”
“You mean his murder. That’s what Officer Rolle told you after your class, wasn’t it?”
How does he…? Sandrine. Again.
Damn it.
“Yes, he was murdered. Poisoned. We don’t know more than that.”
No point telling him about the device.
Let’s see if he slips up, shall we?
“What did you find in his office?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Why don’t you show me?”
“Why should we?”
Connor sighs, then rolls his eyes for good measure. “Are we going to go through this again?”
“What?”
“We’re better as a team. You, me, even Oliver.”
“Excuse me?”
“I am simply stating the fact that we’ve had some success in solving murders.”
“Define ‘success,’” I say.
“Whether you ever cared to learn the details or not, Eleanor, I have been a detective for over twenty years. I’ve solved a multitude of crimes you don’t know about—”
“Pretty sure you’ve also gotten away with a multitude of crimes, only some of which I know about.”
He pauses. “Even if that’s true, my experience is still relevant to our current situation.”
“How exactly?” Oliver asks.
“I think like a criminal.” He taps the side of his head. “Which is exactly what’s needed here.”
“And you know Guy. Knew him,” Oliver says, then sighs. “He has a point, El, much as I hate to admit it.”
“I hate it when he does.”
“I know, but we aren’t getting anywhere. Let’s pool our resources before someone else dies.”
“Fine.”
Connor rubs his hands together. “Excellent. Shall we go somewhere a little less exposed?”
“Such as?”
He cocks his finger and invites us to follow him. Oliver and I share a glance, then relent. I won’t say What’s the worst that could happen? because you know what it is.
This could be a trap. Connor could be luring us to our deaths.
But given the number of pages we still have ahead of us, that’s unlikely at this juncture.
So.
In a few short minutes, we’re in Connor’s room. It’s smaller than our current suite, more like the first room we were shown to, the one Brian died in. A bit tired and in need of a refresh, like the rest of this resort.
A sad place to die, when you think about it.
Connor goes to the mini fridge and gets out a bottle of generic fizzy water but doesn’t offer any to us. Which tracks.
Oliver and I take a seat at the small dining table. The top is chipped in the corner, and I can’t help picking at it.
Connor twists the cap off his water and paces. It’s a thing he does. He thinks better standing up, I remember him telling me years ago, when I found it thrilling to be caught up in one of his cases instead of slightly sick to my stomach.
“What did you find?” Connor asks.
Oliver opens his jacket and pulls out the pieces of paper from the filing cabinet. He glances through them, handing them one by one to Connor. “This is the personnel file of the person who had Guy’s job before him.”
“Anything interesting?”
“He worked here for eight years,” Oliver says.
“Why did he leave?”
“He got offered another job.” Oliver shows me his exit interview. “An offer he couldn’t refuse, it seems like.”
“Like in The Godfather?” I say.
“Um,” Connor says. “Funny you should say that.”
“What do you know?”
He starts to guzzle down his water, then wipes his mouth while we wait.
“Spill it, Connor.”
“I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.”
I knew it.
“You don’t say…”
“Guy reached out to me a couple of months ago.”
“And?”
“He told me he’d tracked down Marta.”
My heart skips a beat. “Marta? Marta Giuseppe?”
He nods.
Marta is the youngest daughter of the Italian capo who Connor crossed ten years ago in Italy. She’s also the one the police didn’t catch in Italy after she was involved in a plot to kill Connor and me.
“Where is she?” Oliver asks between clenched teeth.
“Here. In the Bahamas.”
“What?”
I grab Oliver’s hand. “Why?”
“The Giuseppes have parked a lot of money here. They own property. Hotels. You name it.”62
“This hotel?” Something twigs in the back of my brain. What is it? What is it?
Oh! The cocktail party last night.
Those overheard conversations about the book business and Yellowface and … someone was saying something about the property being owned by the Mafia. And Inspector Tucci. He also said the Mafia was here, which I should’ve focused on more, but I didn’t because … well, I don’t have any excuse, really.
Now it’s just one more thing to add to the list of I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening.
Again.
“What?” Oliver says. “Is that true?”
“He thought so.”
“So, that’s why he was here?”
“Yes.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Oliver says. “You’ve known this the entire time and said nothing about it?”
“Connor operates on a need-to-know basis.”
Oliver shoots me a look. “This isn’t funny, El. Two people are dead. You might be in danger, too. Especially if Marta’s here. We all are.”
“No need to raise your voice, mate.”
“I’ve told you more than once that I’m not your mate.” Oliver’s standing now, his fists clenched, and as much as I’d enjoy him knocking Connor to the ground, it’s a misfocus.
“Oli, he’s not worth it.”
“You’ve said that before.” Connor sneers.
“Still true.”
I turn my back on him and face Oliver. “Remember how you said you were chill about him. Zen, even?”
“That’s before I was stuck in another murder investigation with him.”
I smile. “I get it. Trust me. But let’s find out what he knows and then deal with him?”
“Pardon me? Deal with me how?”
“Yeah, okay,” Oliver said. He squeezes my hand and takes a deep breath.
“Hello? Are you listening to me?”
“How could we ignore you?” I say and turn with a fake smile. “Carry on. Why did Guy want to find Marta?”
Connor looks confused for a moment, then puts his water bottle down. “Don’t we all want to find Marta?”
“Yes, but … why Guy specifically? She didn’t want to kill him.”
“He was part of the original plan that landed her father in jail.”
“Okay, fair. They never seemed that fussed about him, though. Which, now that I think about it, is odd, right?” I look at Oliver. “Inspector Tucci told me Guy didn’t get questioned about the gun he brought into Italy. The higher-ups called him off. He implied that Guy was connected.”
“Connected, connected?”
“Must be, right? Why would he be connected in the police department otherwise?”
“We had contacts there,” Connor says. “Through our work.”
“Enough to get you out of a gun charge? I mean, clearly not. You had to come to a plea agreement for your thing.”
“Thanks to you, I’m not allowed in Italy ever again.”
“Thanks to me? That’s rich.”
“Don’t get distracted, El,” Oliver says. “You’re on to something.”
“Right, sorry, where was I? Oh, right, the police. Guy’s ties. The way Guy got off with nothing. He’s connected to the Mafia, which must mean … he’s connected to the Giuseppes.”
I turn back to Connor. He isn’t reacting. This isn’t new information to him.
“Right, Connor?”
He hesitates, then … “Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since always.”
“Always?”
“As long as I’ve known him.”
“And you knew this the whole time?”
Connor is choosing his words carefully. “Not at first, but did it never occur to you to ask how I met the Giuseppes and planned all of those heists?”
It didn’t. It never occurred to me to ask that question at all.
The TL;DR is that Connor and Guy planned a series of audacious bank robberies with Gianni Giuseppe, the capo’s son.
Connor and Guy then got hired to solve those same robberies by several insurance companies.
Then someone killed Gianni Giuseppe, the capo’s son, and things got serious.
Connor, Guy, and I solved the murder—his father had ordered his killing after he discovered Gianni was involved because he hadn’t asked permission—and the capo went to jail for twenty years, but died before he could get out.
Which set the stage for his family to plot revenge against me and Connor.
“Guy introduced you to Gianni?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“So he knew him before you did?”
“Also yes.”
“Why do I have to drag this out of you? Just tell us already.”
He sighs. “Where do you want me to start?”
“At the beginning. Obvi.”
Connor nods slowly. “I met Guy in London. We ran in the same circles.”
“Bad circles?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“I grew up … not great. Passed around from sister to step-parent to brother … That doesn’t matter.
I learned a lot of skills along the way, and when I was in my twenties, I found myself in London trying to make my way in the world.
I realized I was good at figuring things out, mysteries, and don’t give me that look, Eleanor, it’s true.
But I was also good at planning things, illegal things, so I found myself doing both. ”