Page 51 of One Last Goodbye

“Actually, no.” I briefly explain what Sophie tells me about Hugo’s gambling debts and Frederick’s help.

"So he closed the purse strings, and Hugo took it badly, eh?"

“That’s what it looks like.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

I’m so shocked by the voice, that for a moment, I think Sean has somehow walked behind me. Then I turn and see Hugo’s enraged face. We stare at each other for a moment, both in shock.

“Mary?” Sean says. “Mary, is he there?”

“You think I killed Frederick over some debts?”

My indignation overcomes my shock and fear. I lift my chin and say, “You’ve had no trouble sleeping with Frederick’s wife, even when he was alive. What use would you have for him now after he refused to give you any more money?”

He blanches. “Where are you getting your information?”

I take a gamble of my own. “Your financial records.”

“What?”

“I’ve been working with the police,” I say. Not exactly a lie but not entirely true. “They’ve discovered your debts, and they’ve discovered that Frederick was paying them for you.”

He begins to shake a little. “It’s true that I’ve had debts, and it’s true that Frederick helped me, but I didn’t kill him.”

“Really? Not even when he stopped? Not even after his wife finally agreed to be your lover?”

“Catherine has nothing to do with this!” he thunders.

“So you confess?”

“No! I…” he runs his hands through his hair. “Oh my God. How long have you suspected this? Is that why you refused to watch a movie with us?”

I can smell blood. I step closer, not heeding my own safety. “You killed Frederick Jensen. You asked him for money, and he refused, so you killed him.”

He points a finger at me as though warding me off. “You’re delusional.”

“What happened, Hugo?” I challenge. “Did he find out about you and Catherine?”

Hugo scoffs. “He knew about us for years. Just as she knew about him and almost every woman he looked at. Frederick never cared for her. She was just another prize for him to use.”

“And he was a pocketbook for you to use,” I retort.

“I didn’t…” He runs his hands through his hair again. “I didn’t kill him.” He looks at my phone, seeming to see it for the first time. His brow furrows. “Who are you talking to?”

“The police,” I lie. “I told you, I’ve been working with them. They’re on their way here now.”

I’m not sure why I say that. I suppose it’s my self-preservation instinct rearing its head finally. Either way, it causes a reaction in Hugo. He stumbles backward, trembling even harder. “Oh God. OhGod!”

He rushes from the room toward the front of the house. I’m stunned for a moment, but when I hear the front door open, I regain my senses. I rush from the room after him, calling “Stop! Murderer!”

I’m too late. When I reach the living room, the front door is open, and snow is billowing in. Outside, in the swirling white, Hugo is nowhere to be seen.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

I stride forward, and with an effort close the door. When the howling of the blizzard no longer assaults my ears, I put the phone to my head and say, “Call the police, Sean. The Genthod station. Ask for Detective Laurent Dubois. Tell him that Hugo Van Doren murdered Frederick Jensen and has fled on foot into the snowstorm.”

“Seriously?” Sean exclaims. “He did a runner into the storm?”

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