Рита Браун - Crazy Like A Fox

Gray patiently did as bid. Told her he’d just seen Derwood, who would never divulge anything about a client, but told her he knew Derwood paid special attention to her portfolio, which he did, by Chase Investment standards. They dealt in millions. Daniella’s finances proved slim but Derwood nurtured her account. It grew. The old lady would never have a worry in the world. Her son Mercer had died within the last two years and she had inherited his funds and his house. He was a bloodstock agent and he’d done quite well for himself.

Gray sat in a wing chair by his aunt. “You look wonderful.”

“Liar. I look like Hecate, an old crone.”

“Never.”

“He’s right, Aunt Daniella. You look like a woman perhaps in her late sixties, if that.”

Daniella eyed Sister, shifted in her seat. “You flatter me, but I still walk a mile in the morning, one in the evening. The secret is to keep moving.”

“Thank you for allowing us to call on you.” Sister reached into her bag, retrieving a cellphone.

Daniella’s eyes widened. “You aren’t going to use that device, are you?” Then just as quickly she changed the subject, held up her glass. “Bourbon. A double.”

“Of course.” Gray took the glass, hurried to the bar, poured out the bourbon, then handed it to Daniella, who did look good for her years, her fortification, quite a fortification.

“I am going to use my device. I want you to see something.”

“Porn?” The white eyebrows twitched, a little grin appeared.

“Later.” Sister gave it right back. “When it’s just us girls.”

“Quite right.”

Gray took a deep breath; the old dragon was in a good mood. Better remember to bring her a full bottle of special cask bourbon tomorrow.

Sister rose, then knelt by Daniella. “Please look at this and tell me who it is.”

Daniella reached for her reading glasses on the table by her chair. Sister hit the button and boom, Weevil appeared.

Daniella sharply breathed in, her eyes huge now. Then he blew “Gone to Ground.”

“Good God, Weevil! Weevil Carruthers. Whoever took a film of him?”

“Look again, Aunt Daniella.” Sister replayed the video that Marion had sent to her phone.

“It’s Weevil Carruthers. I’d know him anywhere.” She stopped, looked at the video for the third time. “Morven. Morven.” Then she looked at Sister in confusion, a flash of fear in her eyes. “It’s impossible!”

“Yes. It should be.” Sister told Daniella what had happened. “We can’t believe it, but how can we not believe our eyes?”

“He’s been dead since I was thirty-three!”

“Was he dead?” Gray quietly asked as he sipped his own drink.

“Granted no one ever found the body. Oh, there were rumors that he ran off to Paris, or London or even Istanbul. Some perfect ass said he became a Muslim. The rumors died down. Sooner or later we all believed he was dead.”

“He had many enemies?” Sister stood up, a knee creaking.

“Irritating, isn’t it?” Daniella smirked.

“ ’Tis.”

“The man exuded charm and sex. Perfectly heterosexual men felt the pull. I have never ever met anyone like him. Given that he slept with other men’s wives, yes, he had enemies. But this?”

“It’s dumbfounding. And then blowing ‘Gone to Ground.’ A thumb to the nose, you know.”

Daniella, knowing the horn calls, nodded in agreement as Sister returned to her seat.

“I was hoping you might remember some of his affairs.” Sister took out her Moleskine notebook, the grid pages before her.

Knocking back all of her drink, glaring at Gray, who quickly refilled the glass, this time putting in two ice cubes, Daniella sighed. “How do I know what was true and what was not? So much loose talk.”

“Well—” Sister boldly pressed but with a compliment. “Did he approach you? You and your sister were famed for your beauty, your sparkling ways.”

Daniella pushed back into the pillow, a sly smile on her lips. “Oh, everyone wanted us.”

“So he did?”

“He did. I was married at the time. Husband Number Two. Was it Two? Well, no matter and Graziella”—she named her sister, Gray and Sam’s mother—“she was always with Number One. How she loved that man. We politely spurned Weevil, of course. But, oh, my God, was he divine to look at, to hear his voice, a deep baritone rumble. Even the hair on his arms was golden. Everything about him was golden.”

Sister wondered if she did spurn him. However, she was a woman of color, light as a white person but still. Neither one could have been open and Daniella, nobody’s fool, would never have risked publicity. In fact, every man she married was richer than the last one, after she disposed of the first one, which had been pure physical attraction according to her.

Gray leaned forward. “You have always had sex radar, Aunt Dan. Admit it.”

“Well—”

“You must have an idea of any affairs he had that were serious.”

“Yes, I do, but I don’t want to name names.”

“They’re all dead, surely?” he countered.

“Oh, they are, but their children aren’t. Most of them are in their seventies, late sixties.”

“Yes, of course. Do you think any of these people might be his? The husband didn’t know?”

She shook her head. “No. He would have stamped his get.” She used the horseman’s term. “He must have been careful, or his lovers were. Any woman with a blond baby with a killer smile would have aroused too much curiosity.”

“I assume he had quite a few flings with Deep Run ladies.” Sister smiled, for the Richmond Hunt, a big fences hunt, always was famous for its good-looking women. Sister then continued, “Aunt Daniella, we have to get to the bottom of this, and we have to find that hunting horn.”

“There are ghosts, you know. You should know. Your house is at the base of Hangman’s Ridge. They still moan up there, the hanged men.”

Neither Gray nor Sister disputed this.

“I believe there are ghosts, I do. But why would Weevil’s spirit come back, take his horn from the Huntsman Hall of Fame, and then blow it? Yes it is in keeping with his cheek. Oh, he was full of the Devil.” She laughed, then considered the request. “Well, this is what I know, what I am pretty sure about, and I rely on your discretion. Edward Bancroft’s older sister, Evangelista. Sybil looks just like her,” she mentioned Ed and Tedi’s daughter, visiting her son at college. “Wilder than Sybil, but a decent girl. Anyway, Evie fell head over heels. The family was horrified, broke it up. Sent her to London for the season.” Daniella thought some more. “Florence Randolph. Married with two children. She was seen leaving the huntsman’s house one night. Covered it all up.”

“Shaker’s house?”

“The very same. He might have had affairs with some northern hunt ladies, Green Spring Valley in Maryland. He hunted around, was always in demand, made the most of joint meets—but when he disappeared, he disappeared from here, so this is where the mystery began and may never end. If it hasn’t been solved or resolved since 1954, I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

Sister pressed the button again, turned up the sound so “Gone to Ground” rang out. “It’s different now.”

Daniella sipped a bit of her exquisite bourbon; the damned bottle cost over three hundred dollars, which Gray knew, since he would be replacing it. “Quite right.” She waited a long, long time. “There was one other. Serious, I mean. I hesitate.”

Both Sister and Gray leaned forward, holding their breath in curiosity.

She waited a bit more, ever the dramatist. “Margaret DuCharme.” Pause. “Alfred and Binky’s mother. Dr. Margaret is named after her grandmother. Doesn’t look a bit like her, not that Margaret DuCharme—today’s Margaret—isn’t attractive, but she looks like her grandmother’s people, the Minors. Acts more like a Minor, too. Intellectuals. Lawyers. Doctors. The DuCharmes were rich plantation men, gentlemen, ferociously conservative. I wouldn’t be surprised if the original Margaret’s husband didn’t toast the king, even though they made their fortune during the War of 1812 robbing British supply trains. A fortune, all created by a raving beauty, Sophie Marquet, who beguiled the Brits, found out where the pay wagon and the supply trains were going, then later, with a small group of men, robbed them. It was said the good lady sold some of the goods to our troops but never relinquished the stolen cash, of course.”