“They would have probed into my affairs, so I thought it’d be better to approach you over here, away from prying eyes.”
Casey stepped back, “Pretty convenient, Mr. .Ziegler.”
“Call me Theo. And for the record, I didn’t kill Marcus.”
“Can you prove that?”
“I expected you to ask, so I brought these.” Ziegler reached in a pocket and pulled out an airplane boarding pass and ticket, which he handed to her. “I was flying to Vancouver that night. We didn’t touch down until ten-fifteen.”
The pass and ticket looked legitimate. Still, she’d have Lalonde check it out. “Why did you take off so fast from my house that Monday night? You must have seen me approach your car.”
“Yes, but I spotted the clients up ahead and went after them.”
Another convenience. “Who are they?”
“A couple of Mexican businessmen only known as Carlos and Joseph, and no, I don’t have proof of their existence, although I’ve been trying to find it.”
Casey noticed that the window shoppers were wandering into the gift shop. “Is Reid’s story about the stolen money true?”
“No. The truth is that a little over three years ago, one of Marcus’s more complicated deals with these Mexicans fell through and they wanted their fee back, but Marcus said he’d fulfilled his part of the bargain. The clients threatened to kill him, so he went underground.”
“How much was the fee?”
“Three million in cash.”
God, what type of importing had Dad been into? “What was the bargain?”
“I don’t know; the clients demanded secrecy.”
“But if it was complicated and worth that much money, wouldn’t he have told you?”
Theo scanned the grounds, glancing at the gardener. “We had separate client lists and most of them insisted on privacy, so we only shared information when necessary. Marcus thought it’d be better if I didn’t know about the arrangement, which proved to be a good plan because Carlos and Joseph came after me at one point. It took a hell of a lot of convincing to get them off my back.”
Casey wondered, again, what else TZ Inc. imported and exported besides art, furniture, and unique tarot cards.
“Marcus would have had a detailed record of the transaction somewhere,” Theo said, “and he kept contact information on everyone, but my staff and I couldn’t find anything at the Geneva office he shared with us.” Theo watched her. “You wouldn’t have come across these names, by any chance? They could be on a memory stick or a computer printout or a Rolodex, or in an agenda book. He always carried one.”
“No, I haven’t.” If Dad had wanted Theo to have the book, he would have left it with him and not Simone Archambault.
“Casey, my sources tell me that Joseph and Carlos discovered Marcus was still alive a few weeks ago. Since you’re his heir, I’m afraid they’ll come after you for the money.”
“What makes them think it’s still around, especially when Dad owned an expensive home and car?”
“For reasons I never understood, Marcus kept the cash from this business arrangement hidden away.”
That sounded a bit strange. “Where did the money for the house and car come from?”
“We had some profitable years.” Theo’s large brown eyes softened. “Marcus once told me that he wasn’t around for you as much as he thought he should have been. I think he built that house as a gift for you. I believe he planned to move to Amsterdam permanently.”
Casey shook her head. Damn it, the house should have been for Rhonda.
Theo said, “Can you think of any place Marcus might have hidden a couple of suitcases or duffel bags full of cash? Some place only you’d know?”
“Not offhand.” Even if she could, she wouldn’t tell him. Maybe Theo wasn’t a killer, but she sure as hell didn’t trust him. “Wouldn’t the money be in a bank?”
“From what I heard about the Mexicans’ connections, they would have tracked it down by now. These guys are ruthless, Casey. That’s why Marcus couldn’t contact you. He was afraid Joseph and Carlos would use you to get to him, but I can protect you.”
“Why would you care? Wasn’t your partnership with Dad ending?”
“Reid got that wrong too.”
Casey wandered toward the gift shop entrance. “Did this Gislinde woman and Dad have problems like Reid implied?”
“I have no idea, I rarely saw either of them.”
“Maybe Dad left the money with her.”
“She told me that they’d paid her a visit, which is why she now has a bodyguard.”
“What’s she like?”
“Young, naïve, and quite self-absorbed with her own little fantasy world.”
“Does she know about the murder?”
“Don’t know; I haven’t told her.”
“I will.”
Theo looked at her. “You’re not leaving for Amsterdam right away, are you?”
“No, I’ve had enough traveling for one day.”
“Can I buy you dinner tonight? I know a sensational Italian restaurant not far from here.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think so.” She thought of Mother’s warning to stay away from him. Besides, she’d planned some sightseeing in the seaside town of Whitby. “And thanks for your help with Reid, but, if you’ll excuse me, I have some souvenirs to buy.” And phone calls to make. With that, she disappeared inside the shop.
• • •
As the bus ambled along the road to Whitby beneath a sky dotted with clouds, Casey watched shadows spill over the moor. The shapes looked like people hovering in the distance, but after a second look they disappeared, only to reappear farther along the road like ghostly hitchhikers slipping in and out of the earth.
Because of the time difference, she hadn’t been able to get hold of Detective Lalonde, so she left a message with the West Vancouver Police Department about Ziegler’s presence here and his alleged alibi. Since she hadn’t brought her cell phone on this trip, she left the hotel’s number.
A second phone call to Mother in Geneva had eased her mind a little. It seemed that Mother had done her own research and confirmed that Theo had been on that flight and therefore couldn’t have killed Dad, which was why she hadn’t freaked out when Casey told her he was here in England. Even if he wasn’t a killer, there were still trust issues. “Don’t spend too much time with him,” she’d warned. “The man’s a chronic liar and a manipulator.” Mother would know, having mastered those skills herself.
When the bus stopped at the harbor, Casey stepped down. She’d walked two blocks before Ziegler approached her, this time in a sport jacket and white shirt. Oh, hell.
“Please have dinner with me. I promise I’m not up to anything sordid,” he said. “I hate eating alone and I know a great Italian restaurant only a block from here. It’s a busy, very public place, and I’ll even pay a taxi to take you back to the hotel, so you won’t have to be alone with me, okay?”
Well, she was hungry, and she doubted the guy would take no for an answer, anyway. “All right, but you don’t have to pay, and how do you know there’s a good Italian restaurant down the road?”
“I spent several summers in Yorkshire. My father’s parents are from these parts.”
As they walked, she said, “Where’s your mother’s family from?”
“Everywhere. My heritage encompasses three continents and half a dozen cultures.”
He did all right by them. “Are you married, Theo?” Not that she cared, but acting casual and friendly might get him to open up about a few things.
“Part of me still likes to think so. I’m a widower. So, what are your plans after Amsterdam?”
“A trip to Paris. I want to see some people there, including a man named Gustaf Osterman who might have been a client of Dad’s. Do you know the name, by any chance?”