Murder in the Mansion Read Online Free PDF Page A

his glass in her direction. “Would make me a little
too old. Why don't we aim for a hundred and call it a day?” Vivien laughed. It
was a long-standing joke between the two of them. William always told Vivien
that when they were eighty, or ninety, or one-hundred-and-two, whichever age
pleased him that day, that they would do this or that, as time was forever
getting away from them. Vivien would roll her eyes and scoff that she didn't
want to go to Venice in a wheelchair, and William would chuckle, pleased that
she'd risen to his bait. Many of the people there that night were accustomed to
this banter between the two of them.
    She'd
mentioned Dani, William thought with a start. It had happened so quickly and
been so brief that it had been only a short stab in his heart. Still, Vivien
hadn't said any of their children's names, except for Nadia of course, in
years. It was unlike her to speak so candidly or to show such a real display of
emotion. She was a brilliant hostess because she was unfailingly gracious and
stoic. She showed only what she wanted others to see and she said only what she
wanted others to hear. Vivien had an innate talent for immediately assessing a
situation and deliberately expressing what she knew the other person wanted her
to. She had been a huge asset to William and his business over the years. Her
speech had been unusual. Immediately William wondered why she had said it.
    He
wanted to go to her, to pull her aside and ask her why she'd done it, but she
was standing amongst a group of people. He took one step in her direction
anyway and saw Nadia.
    “Going
somewhere?”
    “Just
inside for a few minutes,” she told him. “I want something cold to drink. Maybe
a few minutes of peace.”
    William
nodded absently. “There's a lot of people here. I'm glad you're here, too.”
    “Of
course I'm here,” she told him. “Where else would I be?”
    “Anywhere
that wasn't here.”
    She
stared at him. “They didn't call. None of them called.”
    “No.
But I shouldn't be surprised.”
    “There's
a lot of water under the bridge, now.”
    “I
know.”
    “Not
just between you and each of them.”
    “I
know.”
    “It's
been five years today Dad, since Dani,” Nadia let out a deep breath.
    “I
know what day it is.”
    It
was the second time in one night that his dead daughter had been tossed at him.
She was a memory he wanted to let go and, if it were possible, even forget. But
he knew it wasn't possible. He could never truly forget his children and their
absence, chosen or otherwise, never failed to anger and upset him.
    He
said goodbye to Nadia and told her she could leave the party before he looked
for his wife. After a few minutes he saw her speaking to her sister and didn't
want to interrupt. Feeling tired and a bit weary, he made his way across the
crowded garden and into the kitchen.
    Caterers
were busy cleaning up and putting extra food in the fridge. He poured himself
another glass of champagne, not ready to switch to coffee, and spent some time
talking with the caterers, complimenting them on their food. He was interested
in the ingredients they'd used, so much so that he lost track of time. Not
ready to go back to the party, he wandered through the house. He wanted a few
minutes to himself, to reflect on what everyone had told him, to enjoy the fact
that they were here, celebrating with him, before the moment passed and it was
over.
    That
was when he heard the murmur of voices behind the wooden door to the study, a
man's and a woman's. He continued to walk, thinking nothing of it, but the high
pitched whisper made him pause.
    “I
hate you!”
    He
moved closer to the door, curious of what was going on. All of his guests
should be outside finishing dessert. Who had needed to come in here?
    “I
don't care!” The voice was slightly more shrill. “I don't want to hear it.”
    Another
voice murmured, confidently. There was the sound of footsteps on the worn wooden
floor. Then the whispered