Lie With Me / Destiny's Hand. Lori Wilde
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after he’d apologized for kissing her and she’d knocked him flat on his ass. She’d reminded him of Aphrodite—beautiful, powerful and furious. A goddess you wouldn’t want to mess with. And he’d wanted her mindlessly. God help him, he still did.
And that was the other reason he’d lied to Miranda.
But what he said was, “You believe the sniper was shooting at the cat. Who’s to say his next shot wouldn’t have been aimed at you?”
She swallowed hard. “He missed the cat. Twice. Maybe he was just trying to scare us away so he could get rid of the body.”
Roman nodded. “That’s possible. But once we report all this to the inspector, and the shooter finds out you’re still here at the villa—not only here, but asking questions—he might decide you saw too much.”
“If you’re trying to frighten me—”
“I am.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Neither am I.”
There was a beat. Then Philly leaned forward and there was a glint in her eye he couldn’t recall seeing before. “Fine. But if we’re going to share the same room, I want to lay down some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?” What in hell was coming next?
“You’re a businessperson. You must be familiar with the concept.” She lifted her wineglass and sipped. “The next time you kiss me—no pulling back, no apologies. You’d better be prepared to finish what you start.”
The challenge was clear in her voice, in her eyes. But he was saved from a direct reply when Miranda ushered a thin, wiry man of medium height and sharp, intelligent eyes onto the terrace.
“Philly, Kit, this is Inspector Ionescu,” Miranda said. “Inspector, these are my cousins from San Francisco.”
5
DURING THE TWO HOURS Roman and I had spent in the company of Inspector Ionescu, I’d learned he was a very professional and thorough man. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’d expected someone who was a bit more of a hick—or at the least someone more rumpled or cranky. The inspector was none of the above.
He sat across a table from me in a shaded and isolated part of the terrace flipping through a small notebook. The first word that had popped into my mind from the moment I’d seen him was dapper. He reminded me a bit of the actor who’d starred as Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot in the British television series. His build was thin and wiry. He wore neatly pressed khaki trousers, a short-sleeved shirt and tie and sturdy boots that had served him well when he’d accompanied Roman and me to the crescent-shaped beach where I’d last seen the body. I was hoping that I might catch a glimpse of Ariel on the way down, but I hadn’t.
Before we’d climbed down the cliff path, Ionescu had questioned Roman and me separately in Miranda’s office. Once we returned to the villa, he’d separated us again. Roman now sat several tables away, sipping coffee and chatting with Demetria.
Ionescu closed his notebook and glanced up at me. “Is there anything else you can tell me, Ms. Angelis?”
I pretended to think for a moment, and then I said, “No.”
Ionescu said nothing. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Roman was perfectly at his ease while my stomach was knotted with nerves. I’d been lying to the inspector for two hours.
“You don’t have any idea of the identity of the young man you saw talking with the victim?”
“No.”
He was looking right into my eyes, and I prayed that he couldn’t read my mind. Because I did have an idea of who the younger man was. Still, I didn’t know for sure that it had been my cousin Alexi.
“Is there anything about what you’ve told me that you’d like to change?”
“No.” That was a lie also. Because I wanted very badly to tell him that Roman wasn’t my brother Kit. Roman and I had argued about that point on the beach while Ionescu had been some distance away searching the promontory of rocks near the Castello. I’d pointed out that the inspector was going to discover that Roman was lying anyway. He was definitely going to check our passports. Or he could privately Google Kit’s name if he didn’t want us to know he was curious about us. My brother Kit had two different Web sites—one for his P.I. business and the other for his novels. His picture was prominently displayed on both. All Roman had said was that he’d handle that when the time came.
Somehow I didn’t think Ionescu was going to approve of Roman’s timing.
When Ionescu slipped the small notebook into his pocket and rose, Roman walked to the table to join us. “All finished, Inspector?”
“For the moment. Have you thought of anything else I should know, Mr. Angelis?”
“No—I believe we’ve covered it all. What will you do next?”
“I’ll trace the owner of the cell phone Ms. Angelis found. Then we’ll have a name. Whether or not it belongs to the victim is another question. By tomorrow, I may have a report of a missing person, either from here or the Castello Corli. I’d like the two of you to keep yourselves available.” He handed Roman his card. “And if you think of anything else I need to know, please call me at once.”
After nodding at me, Ionescu moved toward the lobby. Roman and I watched him stop and speak to Miranda. To my surprise, he reached out and touched her arm in a gesture that spoke of comfort.
I murmured to Roman, “They know each other more than professionally.”
“If that’s true, then he knows Alexi also.”
“And probably recognized him from the description I gave of the younger man on the beach.” I rose from the table. “I’m worried about Ariel and Caliban.”
“I spoke to Demetria about the cats. She says that ever since Caliban went missing, Ariel disappears for long periods of time. She may be with Alexi.”
I thought of the image of the white cat lying in the shadowy place. He was awake, just not moving. Maybe he couldn’t. “Perhaps she goes to her brother. That would make sense especially if she’s a worrier like my Pretzels is.” I recalled the remains of the small animal. “She may be bringing him food. And I saw water.”
“There’s nothing you can do right now. Not until Ariel returns.”
When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw that Ionescu was still talking to Miranda. “The inspector suspects we’re lying about something. You should have told him you’re not Kit.”
“Miranda wouldn’t approve of my staying in your room if she learned the truth right now. I’m sure she feels that while you’re at the Villa Prospero, she’s standing in for your father. I wouldn’t want to add to the stress she’s under by insisting that I stay in your room as Roman Oliver.”
I met his eyes steadily. “I’m a grown woman. I make my own decisions about who stays or does not stay in my room.”
Though his expression didn’t change I could tell he was amused. “That doesn’t alter the way your brothers would feel if they knew we were sharing a room. I know what I’d feel about my sisters.”
My brows shot up. “Theo is sharing a room with your sister Sadie on a pretty regular basis.”
“That’s different. There’s a commitment between Theo and Sadie.” All trace of amusement disappeared from his eyes. “I’m not a man who can make that kind of commitment, Philly. Running Oliver Enterprises is much more than a full-time job to me. It’s something I’ve worked for all of my life. I’ve watched my father try to juggle the responsibilities of business and family and now he’s heading for his third divorce. I decided some time ago that it wouldn’t be fair to ask someone to share my life when I would have so little time to devote to the relationship.”