The lashes on those long dark eyes flickered a moment. “He’s a former employee, but we didn’t part on the best of terms and I haven’t seen him in years.” Theo pointed the ruins of a building high on a cliff overlooking the North Sea. “There’s Whitby Abbey. I’ll take you to see it tomorrow, if you like.”
“Sorry, but I’m leaving town early.” No reason to tell him she’d be heading for London first to meet with a couple of Dad’s clients she’d tracked down. “I’ve been wondering why Dad stayed in touch with his fiancée after he went underground? If these Mexicans were after him, wouldn’t she have been in danger too?”
“Exactly. I told Marcus that if he wanted to make his death real, he’d need to break contact with his European friends, which he did, except for her. Gislinde’s an interior designer who moves around with her work, so she hasn’t had a fixed address in some time. Marcus thought they’d have trouble tracking her down, and I suppose he had people watching out for her as well. Anyhow, Marcus and I agreed that it’d be better if I knew as little as possible about his life, so we didn’t communicate. His death had to seem genuine, particularly to his family and close friends.”
Casey studied rows of buildings crammed against the lower slope of the hill on the east side of the city. “I take it you don’t know the name of the man I buried?”
“No.”
Theo opened a heavy oak door for Casey and ushered her into a candlelit room where a painting of a Venice canal and a golden sky covered one wall. The waiter hovered around them, his face beaming as he and Theo spoke Italian. An elderly couple emerged from the kitchen and embraced Theo. Grinning and nodding at Casey, they led her and Theo to a table with a view of the harbor. The waiter handed Casey a menu, and then draped a linen napkin over her lap.
After the couple and waiter left, Theo said, “Try the Filetto di Manzo Capricciosa. Beef medallions in brandy sauce, topped with crab meat and Edam cheese gratinée.” After Theo studied the wine list, the waiter reappeared, took their orders, and left. Theo leaned forward and said, “I’d like to take you to Amsterdam.”
“Thanks, but it’s not necessary.”
She doubted the guy was offering out of kindness. Vincent had overheard Dad argue with him about money, and Reid had confirmed the financial problems. Maybe Theo wanted the missing three million and a chance to get rid of the Mexican clients, if they really existed. She certainly hadn’t noticed any Mexican men following her since the murder.
“Casey, the next stranger you approach about Marcus’s murder could be carrying something more dangerous than a penknife. Why did you come to Europe in the first place? What do you hope to accomplish?”
“To learn more about a life that I knew nothing about.” She paused. “To try and understand why he did what he did.” Like become engaged to another woman without bothering to end things with Rhonda. And to find out if he’d been involved in something criminal.
“I could introduce you to one or two contacts who might have kept in closer contact with Marcus than I did, though I have to say that Gustaf Osterman wouldn’t be one of them. He’s an anti-social man with somewhat of a mean streak, which was why I let him go.” Theo nodded to the waiter who placed their appetizers in front of them. “Besides, I also speak French, Spanish, and German.”
Casey slipped a mushroom cap in her mouth and clamped down. The hot food burned the roof of her mouth. Sucking in air, she reached for her water glass.
Theo grinned and sipped his wine.
“Did Dad ever mention the name Rhonda Stubbs to you?”
“Should he have?”
“She’s my landlady, and she was also engaged to him.”
The food about to reach Theo’s lips wavered. “Is that why you want to meet Gislinde, to tell her that?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I just need to know she’s real.” Casey shook her head. “Rhonda was betrayed by her first husband and best friend in a sleazy affair.” No point in mentioning that the best friend was his part-time courier, Mother. “Then she lost her dad to cancer, her sister to a drug overdose, and finally Dad.”
“Terrible.” Theo slid the fork in his mouth. When he finished chewing, he said, “Tell me about your life.”
She kept it brief. Every time Casey asked similar questions, he steered the questions back to her. By the time they were working on their entrées, she said, “Why won’t you talk about Dad? There are some things I’d like to know about this importing venture of his.”
“I’d rather get to know you and enjoy this meal.”
After they’d finished, Theo ordered dessert for both of them: a meringue swan in a pond of chocolate with raspberry swirls.
“Sounds wonderful, but I’ll have to pass,” Casey said. “I’m allergic to chocolate.”
“A few blemishes are worth the sweet, delicate taste of Mario’s best dessert.”
“It’s not about my face.”
She didn’t want to explain the irritability that overtook her whenever she ate chocolate, though she loved the dark stuff.
“Just try the meringue and raspberry,” he said. “It’s fantastic.”
Casey sat back. “You’re almost as pushy as my ex-husband was. So, what else are you, Theo?”
“I’ll help you find out over the next few days.”
The waiter soon presented her with a meringue swan surrounded by loops of raspberry sauce in chocolate so dark it was almost black.
Casey lifted her fork. “You’ve been warned.” She covered her fork in chocolate and slipped it in her mouth. Oh geez, smooth rich heaven. Casey swept up more chocolate.
“What kind of man is your ex-husband?” Theo asked.
“A superficial flake. I was twenty-eight when he dumped me for an eighteen-year-old.” She plunged her fork into the swan’s body, knocking it on its side. “He found himself an old-fashioned gal who thinks ‘feminist’ is a hygiene spray.”
Theo kept his eyes on the plate and smiled.
Casey decapitated the swan. Bits of meringue flew onto the table. She’d been ironing Greg’s shirts when he told her about his new love. The iron was still hot when she ran after him. Water had scalded her hand as she’d tried to press the guilt from his face. Come to think of it, she’d been eating chocolate that day, too; the last of an Easter bunny Greg had bought her. Some guys never learned.
“We were married for eight years. He always resented me for keeping my maiden name and didn’t think I should be in security, mainly because I made more money than him.”
She cut and stabbed the swan’s body until only brown and white lumps were left.
“You’ve just mutilated your dessert,” Theo said. “I take it you still have issues?”
“Dessert issues mainly. Some women have them. One day I found Rhonda sitting at the kitchen table with her hands covered in cherry cheesecake. She’d just mangled the thing after making it; decided it was no good.”
“Sounds irrational.”
“Everyone is now and then.” Casey ate a forkful of meringue.
“Are you seeing anyone now?” he asked.
She hesitated. “I have a close friend.”
“How close?”
Casey avoided Theo’s gaze. “Lou’s the most honest man I know.”
“Are you sure?”
“What kind of question is that?” She ploughed her fork through the remains of her decimated swan.
“I see,” Theo said. “Chocolate makes you cantankerous. Quite the opposite of most women.”
She crunched the last of her swan. “I’m not most women.” Besides, chocolate reactions usually didn’t happen this fast. The mood swing was because of the personal questions and Greg’s name coming up.
“Like it or not, I’m escorting you to Amsterdam,” Theo said.
“Theo, I do not need, or want, a man to protect me, thank you very much.”