Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
“We should think like the killer.”
Victoria angled Cillian a look as they stood in the foyer of Briscoe’s mansion. “I’d rather not.”
He chuckled. Couldn’t help it. She was so cute when she got her nose bent out of shape. “Okay, then let’s think like a detective and go over the evidence.”
“I thought that’s why we’re here. To find more evidence.”
“Right. But we should review the facts we do know so we have a better idea what to look for. Like how he was killed. You said you saw blood from a gash on the back of his head, right?”
Victoria stared at something ahead. Or at nothing.
“Vicks?”
She turned her head toward him. The light from the chandelier caught her eyes, and they were filled with sadness.
His chest squeezed. His hand went toward her arm, aching to touch her, to comfort her. She’d touched his arm at the police station for a different reason. And the contact had worked better than a defibrillator to jumpstart his heart. Their chemistry always had been off the charts.
But even though she was clearly still attracted to him, she didn’t want him to touch her. That was obvious. At least not yet.
So he clenched his fist at his side and cleared his tight throat instead. “Are you okay?”
“It’s so strange to be here, in his house, without him.” She looked up at Cillian then, unshed tears pooling in her beautiful hazel eyes.
His gut twisted. “I’m sorry, Vicks.”
“I don’t want his house. I want him back.” Her voice squeezed with pain like it had that last time he’d talked to her sixteen years ago. When she’d called him to say goodbye.
He couldn’t hug her then. Couldn’t help. But maybe he could now.
A tear escaped and fell down her cheek.
That did it. “I know, Vicks. Shh…” He stepped toward her, reaching to take her into his arms.
But her eyes widened, and she stepped back, spinning away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me. I don’t usually do that.”
He blinked at her back, her parka shutting him out like it shut out the cold. A pang seared his chest. Man, that hurt.
“You’re right. We should review the facts and determine what we’re looking for.
” She angled halfway toward him but avoided directly meeting his gaze.
“Yes, there was a cut on the back of his head. Swelling, as well, I believe. And blood. Though not as much as I would have expected for a head wound like that.”
He swallowed. Steeled his jaw. “Okay. So it’s likely the killer hit him with something on the head but not where you found him. Probably here, in the house. Then moved the body.”
She nodded and walked toward the base of the staircase she had sat near on the bench before. “That could explain the missing rug. It was very expensive, so it could have been stolen. Or…”
“The killer could’ve taken it because it had blood on it.
” Cillian went to join her, stopping close by her side.
Maybe reminding her that she was attracted to him, too, would help break down her defenses.
He’d made progress already. Persuading her to go against the orders of domineering authority figures like McCully and Willis was an almost unimaginable achievement.
She was starting to trust Cillian and listen to him. Whether she liked it or not.
“Yes.” She looked at him, and her head jerked up to his face as if surprised he was so close. Her cheeks flushed an encouraging shade of red. She quickly turned her head away and walked even closer to the steps.
She crouched and peered at the lower wooden steps that had a runner of carpeting colored burgundy and black in a swirling pattern. “I don’t think we’ll be able to see blood on this carpet.”
He grinned. “Look at you. Just like a detective.”
Her mouth tugged in a smile she was obviously trying to repress as she tossed him a glance. “I’ve watched TV shows, too.”
“Have you?” He responded with a matching teasing tone. But he was a little surprised. TV used to be outlawed by her father. Thought it was a waste of time when his kids should be studying for the academic and career success he had planned for them. Maybe she had broken free of his control a little.
“I suppose the killer could have been here, possibly trying to steal the valuables.” Victoria stood and peered up at the staircase. “Thomas could have heard him and come downstairs to check. And then…” Her lips pressed together.
“Yeah.” Cillian let the heaviness of the situation weight his voice.
She needed to see he could take things seriously.
He always took victimization of the vulnerable more seriously than anything.
“If it was dark, it could’ve been pretty easy for the killer to hide by the stairs and then hit Thomas from behind. ”
Victoria took in a visible breath, like gathering her courage to shake off the sadness again. “It would explain the two paintings being switched. If it was a thief, he could have taken them off the walls, intending to steal them.”
“But then got interrupted, clobbered Thomas, and panicked.” Cillian shook his head. “Makes sense as an unplanned murder. The robber probably hadn’t killed anybody before, so he would leave the valuables behind. He wouldn’t want to risk getting caught for a murder rap.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Victoria crossed in front of Cillian, moving toward the back of the foyer where large, cherry wood doors stood closed.
Cillian followed her, scanning the rest of the foyer for anything he might not have seen before. “You don’t sound convinced.”
She opened the two doors, pushing them inward.
He followed her through.
A massive room with high ceilings and several chandeliers opened before him. Shelves of books lined almost all the walls like at a library, flanking an impressive fireplace in the farthest wall. “Wow. You must love this room. No wonder you got along so well with this guy.”
She turned toward Cillian and stared at him.
“What? You didn’t think I’d remember how much you love books?” His ribs pinched. Man, she really didn’t give him any credit at all.
Her mouth opened like she was going to answer. Then closed.
She faced away again. Of course.
She walked toward the seating area by the fireplace where two armchairs and a velvet, antique-looking couch stood. “He was here.” She gestured toward the larger armchair that also looked like an antique, though Cillian was far from an expert.
“When you saw him?”
She turned her gaze on Cillian, pain reflecting in her eyes. “When he told me he couldn’t trust anyone but me.” She aimed her gaze at the chair. “‘You’re the only one I can trust,’ he said.” Her voice tightened.
“So it maybe wasn’t a burglar. Maybe it was premeditated.”
Victoria nodded as she folded her arms across her parka. “The evidence fits that theory, as well. The rug could have been removed only because it had blood on it from the blow. The paintings could be switched because…” She tilted her head at an adorable angle as she touched a finger to her chin.
“Maybe the killer was looking for something behind the paintings.” Cillian threw out the idea as soon as it came to him. “Like a safe with blackmail evidence Thomas had against him?”
“Blackmail?” She lifted her eyebrows. “I don’t think Thomas would blackmail someone. Though he did say he was considering speaking with Mr. Neely about something he had ‘discovered.’”
“And idea what or who that would’ve been about?”
“He didn’t trust his niece and nephew. They weren’t very convincing at playing the role of loving relatives.”
Cillian nodded. “So they might’ve been after his money.
Trying to get on his good side to be sure they were in his will.
Which, ironically, you were instead.” He smiled, but she didn’t smile back.
Too soon for jokes about her inheritance, apparently.
“Okay, who else would’ve wanted to hurt him or kill him? ”
She sighed, lowering her arms. “It’s hard to imagine anyone would. But there was a strange incident that last day I saw him.”
“Strange how?”
She moistened her lips. “Well, I had thought he and Clinton Glenn were friends. He’s the curator of the Chicago Renaissance Art Museum, to which Thomas is a major contributor. But that day, Thomas sounded cold and angry with him.”
“What did they say?”
“I don’t know beyond the initial greeting. Ryan, his nephew, escorted me out just then.”
“Like he didn’t want you to hear what they talked about?”
“More like he wanted me out of his uncle’s life. He and his sister, Brenda, often behaved that way, though Brenda covered it beneath a veneer of politeness.”
Cillian nodded. “Okay, great. So we have at least three other suspects.”
“Other?”
“Besides you.” He grinned.
“Thank you so much.” A small smile curved her mouth with the sarcastic remark, making his pulse skip a beat.
“So does anything in here look disturbed?” He pulled his gaze away to scan the immaculately organized and cleaned library. Looked like something Victoria herself would’ve set up and maintained.
“No.” She rotated, glancing around the room. “It appears the same as when I was here two days ago. Unless…” Her gaze stopped on something near the doors, and she headed toward the bookshelves there. “Oh, my.”
“What?”
“The bookends.”
Cillian followed her to the shelves that lined the wall just to the right of the doors, or the left if a person were entering the room. With that many books filling the room, the whole place must be home to hundreds of bookends.
She put her hand on a shelf just above her eye level. “I only see one.”
“One what?”
“Glass bookend. Thomas had a beautiful set that caught my eye once when I was browsing this section of books.”
“Oh, yeah.” Cillian’s gaze fell on a large, ornately sculpted glass bookend.
“You’re taller. Do you see the other one? Maybe on the higher shelves?”
Cillian stepped back and scanned one shelf at a time. “Nope. Some wooden and metal ones. No glass.”
“He never would have gotten rid of that.” Her eyebrows dipped together toward her nose.
“Maybe it broke.”