Page 19 of One Last Smile

I follow him downstairs. He casts another quizzical look over his shoulder as we descend, and I offer a smile to dispel any suspicion he might have. I have no idea if his suspicions are lessened, but he doesn’t ask what I was doing again.

My own suspicions are far from lessened. A far more sinister reason for Sebastian’s shunning Minerva’s memory coalesces in my mind.

Could Oliver have followed through on his promise to make sure no one else could have Minnie?

CHAPTER NINE

Lucas finishes his schoolwork early, and I allow him to spend the rest of the day outside with his camera.

I spend the rest of the afternoon in turmoil. I know that I need to do something about the evidence I’ve discovered, but I don’t know what. I could go to the police, but what do I have other than a letter that was never sent? What could I hope to accomplish?

Perhaps the police would choose to investigate and not simply dismiss this out of hand in a desire to avoid reopening a year-old mystery involving one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in the region. What happens next?

They question Oliver, of course. Oliver expresses remorse over the letter and explains that he never sent it because as he wrote it, he realized how foolish it sounded and knew that he could never bring himself to hurt Minnie. Nor could he bring himself even to frighten her. He kept her letters because he misses his first true love, and they remind him of her. As for his letter, he never sent it, clearly, and never destroyed it because he still can’t bear to think of her.

It’s a questionable response, but what else is there to link him to Minnie? There’s Sebastian’s refusal to let the police search the grounds, but with nothing more concrete than an unsent letter to connect Oliver to the crime, the police could hardly force that issue. The Montclairs live abroad now, and if the police did contact them, would they give a different answer than what they’ve previously given? Do they even suspect the Carltons of wrongdoing?

It’s too soon to come forward. I need more. Perhaps I should start by trying to learn what I can of Oliver’s relationship with Minnie. The problem is that I don’t know where to begin. Sebastian has made it clear he doesn’t want her name spoken in this house, and if it gets back to him that I’m prying, then I could be in serious danger. At the very least, I will lose my employment. At worst…

They’re the type of family that can make people disappear if they want.

I shiver at the thought, but it also gives me an idea. What information did Minnie have that could threaten the Carltons? Surely a relationship with Oliver wouldn’t have caused a scandal. They’re both of age, and she came from a wealthy family herself. I can’t see that a romance between Minnie and Oliver—even one that ended badly—could cause them to want her killed.

But she did disappear, and evidence is starting to suggest that the Carltons know more than they’re letting on. I need to find out somehow what Minnie knew that could threaten them. But how do I go about doing that?

A knock on the door interrupts my musings. That’s odd. Who could be visiting during the afternoon on a Tuesday?

I don’t answer the first knock, but when a second indicates that our visitor won’t be dissuaded, I decide I should at least inform whoever it is that the Carltons aren’t here. I look through the peephole and see a handsome young man who bears some resemblance to Oliver and Eliza, though he is not nearly so well-dressed. A cousin, perhaps?

I open the door, and before I can say anything, the young man barges past me into the house.

“Thank God!” he says. “I thought Lucas was playing a trick and keeping me out until the family came home. Lucas!” he calls. “Where are you, old chum? Come say hi to Cousin Finch!”

“Excuse me!” I say, rushing in front of him and holding out a hand to stop him. “And who are you?”

“Oh. How rude of me.”

He grins rakishly and takes a deep bow. “I am Alistair Finchley, of the Devonshire Finchleys, not that that means anything. I am second cousin once removed of Sebastian Carlton, and that does mean something, or so I’m told. And who, if I may be so bold, are you?”

Upon closer inspection, I see his poor dress is due not to the quality of the materials, which are every bit as excellent as the clothing the Carltons wear, but due to the woefully mismatched sizes, colors, and styles. The long tuxedo coat clashes horrifically with the turtleneck and brown khakis. I don’t believe that first appearances always reveal much useful information about people, but if his is to be believed, these choices are intentional.

“I’m Mary Wilcox,” I reply. “I am tutor to Lucas.”

“Tutor? Has he not graduated already?”

“It’s his final year.”

“Right. Well, I’m sure he’ll do fine. He was always the smart one. Lucas!”

“He’s outside,” I say. “Seriously, sir, this is highly irregular. I suggest you leave a message for the Carltons, and—”

“Cousin!” I turn to the door to see Oliver striding forward, a grin on his face and arms outstretched. “How are you? God, it’s been ages!”

“Only a coon’s age, as they say in Kentucky,” Alistair replies, returning the embrace. “Not that I would know as I’ve spent most of the past three years in Japan. Fascinating country, let me tell you. And the women… well…” He winks at me. “We’ll save that conversation for later.”

I’m so flummoxed that I don’t realize the other Carltons have returned until I hear Eliza shriek, “Alistair!” and run into his arms.

Alistair’s smile changes to one of longing and desperate lust. He sweeps Eliza off of her feet and kisses her full on the mouth, an action that for reasons I can’t fathom doesn’t seem to alarm the elder Carltons, who follow their daughter with equally delighted smiles.

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