Mary Robb - Down the Rabbit Hole

She completed her conversation, then removed the ear ’link and slipped it into a pocket of her jacket.

“I’m sorry. It’s a difficult and busy morning.”

“We appreciate you coming in.”

“Sean Fitzwilliams has arrived in New York. I spoke with him before I came in, and he instructed me to give you my full cooperation. The family is, understandably, devastated. And they want answers, Lieutenant, Detective, because no one who knew Darlene believes she did what the media is gleefully claiming.”

She took out a notebook, set it on the table. “I intend to take careful notes of our conversation, as I and my clients also want answers. Have you any leads?”

“Our investigation is active and ongoing.” Eve sat, took the lawyer’s measure. A solid rep, Roarke had told her, and he would know. Her own research indicated Gia Gregg had represented the rich and richer with a steady hand for more than three decades.

“At approximately eight thirty last evening, Darlene Fitzwilliams entered her brother’s apartment. Within minutes she stabbed him three times in the chest with a pair of nine-inch shears and immediately walked out to the apartment’s terrace and jumped to her death.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s fact. However,” she added before Gia could protest, “our investigation leads us to believe Miss Fitzwilliams was under the influence of a hallucinogenic cocktail.”

“Darli— Miss Fitzwilliams did not use. In fact, part of her work in the Fitzwilliams Foundation supported rehabilitation and education centers for illegals abuse.”

“The final toxicology report is still forthcoming, however, the preliminary has already identified several substances in her system, including valerian, diazepam, peyote, phencyclidine, and cannabis.”

Gregg’s eyes widened at the length of the list. “Then someone dosed her without her knowledge or consent.”

“That may be. If she consented, it’s highly probable she did so in the belief the substances would aid her in communicating with her parents. Were you aware she’d been seeking the help of psychics and mediums for that purpose?”

“Not until this morning. I’ve also spoken with Henry, her fiancé. He told me what you found in her closet, and about the bank account, the withdrawals. Someone used her grief, someone did this to her and Marcus.”

“At this point, with the evidence we have, I agree with you.”

Gia’s shoulders relaxed for an instant. “We need to issue a media release. Darlene’s reputation is being—”

“We’re not going to do that. Her reputation isn’t my concern. Finding whoever provided her with illegals, whoever convinced her to take them or gave them to her without her consent is. Who stands to gain by their deaths?”

“Both Darlene and Marcus leave a considerable estate in their own rights, and have numerous beneficiaries. The foundation itself would be the largest for both.”

“Who gets the biggest piece of the pie?”

“Before their parents’ death, we had a meeting—the four of them—regarding updating their estate plans, beneficiaries. Darlene chose to leave ten million to Henry on the event of her death, as well as her share of the home they purchased.”

“Funny he didn’t mention that.”

“He doesn’t know. Darlene was also firm on that stipulation. He’s a proud man. He was raised by a single mother who worked very hard to support him and his sister. He was able to go to college and grad school because of her hard work, and his own. Scholarships, interning. He made his own. And you can trust that when it became apparent he and Darlene were serious, her parents did a thorough background check on him.” Gia sighed. “He’s a good man. I’m very fond of him myself. He loved her. The money? It didn’t play a part for him—in fact, it was an obstacle initially. I’m also aware he works for your husband, who would also have done a thorough background on him. Henry wouldn’t work for Roarke in such a key position if he weren’t ethical and clean.”

“She had a lot more than the ten.”

“Yes. There are individual bequests to family members, most sentimental rather than monetary. Marcus, for instance, left Darlene his apartment. There’s a difficult area here, as he predeceased her.”

“By a couple minutes.”

“By seconds would amount to the same, legally. He left most of his property to her, so—though I will study on this—it appears this will flow into her estate. As I said, the bulk goes to the foundation, and to individual organizations the foundation supports. Darlene earmarked several for single bequests or for continuing grants.”

She took a disc from her bag, offered it. “I have a list for you, though I can’t see how it applies. Darlene researched and investigated all grant requests. She, Marcus, Sean, and two other foundation officers would then review and vote on the grants.”

“They—these officers, staff—draw a salary?”

“Yes.”

“Who runs the show now?”

“Sean would be acting president, and acting CEO of the business. I can also tell you these aren’t positions he wants. He and his wife are well settled in Europe. His youngest child is in school there, his oldest—with his first wife—lives minutes away with his own wife and children. The loss of Darlene and Marcus is shattering, and so close to the loss of Gareth and Bria. It’s going to take time and work to restructure the positions, the responsibilities.”

“Best guess?”

“They’ll try to keep it in the family. I would recommend they divide both Marcus’s and Darlene’s positions. Several candidates stand out, but none of them would kill for the job.”

“People kill for all sorts of reasons,” Eve said. “Maybe one of them told her about a medium, guided her where they wanted her to go. Who was she close to? Who would she tell when she decided to go this route?”

“Marcus, and obviously he didn’t know. Henry, the same. And Louise Dimatto, whom I know you’re aware was a close family friend. Darlene had other friends, of course, but those three were her foundation. If she told none of them, she told no one. I wish she had. I wish she’d talked to me. We had a good personal relationship.”

Tears swam into her eyes, and she paused for a moment until she’d controlled them.

“If she’d come to me, I might have been able to help her. I could have used my resources to find her the right person, someone gentle and kind as well as gifted.”

“So she could talk to her dead parents.”

“While I may be a bone-deep skeptic on such matters, I discount nothing. But I know this: If she’d been able to reach them, they’d have told her to move on with her life, and they’d never have suggested she use drugs. So I have to conclude she didn’t reach them.”

“We’re going to agree on that.”

“The family requested I ask when they can have Marcus and Darlene.”

“We’ll release the bodies as soon as we can.”

“Sean—particularly—would like to see them. Henry, he needs to see Darlene.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Eve gentled her tone, just a little. “No one needs to see Darlene as she is now. Trust me on that.”

“They’ll insist.”

“Let me talk to the ME, see if anything can be done to . . . minimize the damage.”

“That’s very kind of you, and much appreciated.”

“You’re going to be with the family. If you get any sense, hear anything that leads you to believe someone played a part, I want to hear it.”

“You can depend on it. I won’t, but I also won’t withhold any information that pertains to their deaths. They mattered to me, Lieutenant, as much more than clients.”

CHAPTER EIGHT