The Muse (Interracial Mystery Romance) (Dark Art Mystery Series) (17 page)

Detective White got the hint and moved on. “Who else knows about the blind spot?”

“My director of security. I just fired him today, but I have all of his information.”

“Why did you fire him?”

“He turned a camera off in the attic where his wife worked as a nurse.” Reece had

explained Dayanara to Detective White before, along with the huge predicament of why I kept her in the attic. He understood the fragility of the situation. This was a topic he knew not to bring up around anyone but Reece and me. “My assistant can explain more about that later.”

“Can I go up to Dayanara’s room and check it out, make sure no one has left?”

“Of course.”

A wrinkle formed in Elle’s forehead as confusion etched the outline of her eyes. She had to wonder why a nurse was in the attic or what the significance of it was, but being the wise woman that she was, she remained quiet and listened, taking it all in to decipher later.

“Okay. So your director of security knew about the blind spot. Who else?” Detective White asked. “I’ll need every name. Just because they know doesn’t mean they’re suspects, but they very well could have told someone about it. Especially with the strangeness of why there was a blind spot. News about a famous artist’s grandmother doing sacrifices in a garden could be that one interesting thing a drunken guy tells a girl at a party to impress her.”

“Okay. Besides the director of security, Reece of course knew. Grandma and Hex. The person who installed the cameras may have known that one didn’t aim in this direction. I can’t think of anyone else.”

“If anyone else comes to mind, please let me know. Do you think your grandma or Hex would’ve told anybody?”

“Not my grandma, but Hex may have let it slip, though the possibility is low. He likes to talk about himself, not anybody else.”

“Okay.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you going to look at the body with me or would you like to stay here?”

“I’m coming.”

“And me too. I’m Elle, by the way.” Elle grabbed my hand with shaking fingers. I didn’t want her to do it, but as I’d learned tonight, there was nothing I could do if she didn’t want to do it.

“How much am I able to say around Miss Elle?” Detective White asked.

“I’ll let you know when I want you to stop so we don’t upset her, but don’t think you have to guard too many details.”

He pulled out gloves from his jogging pants’ pockets and put them on as we walked

through the rows of herbs and rounded to where the eggplants began. A purse blinked on and off with light. Lots of tiny little rainbow lights covered it.

No wonder Patricia’s friend found the body. The pocket book looks like a damn

Christmas tree.

“So I see why Patricia’s friend would’ve found the body, but how did she know to come out here?” Elle gripped the side of her dress with her free hand and lifted the bottom up while she walked with us. I kept my hold on her other hand so if she tripped or anything, I could prevent her fall.

“One of your men found a few discarded joints about twelve or so feet from here and that direction.” Detective White pointed toward the pond near the back gate. “I discovered on several security tapes that a lot of the artists snuck over there to smoke in the evening. Additionally, both girls were killed late at night. The first one had marijuana in her system and I guess came from the pond when the killer surprised her. I’m thinking whoever this person is, they know about the smoking happening out there.”

“Patricia did smoke a joint last night when I met her at the art gallery opening,” Elle added.

“They’re not supposed to have drugs on the property, so they must’ve figured that no cameras were in that area and smoked over there.” I formed my lips into a frown.

“My thinking exactly.” Detective White stopped by the body. Elle gasped. I cringed at the sight.

“I’ll have someone patrolling that region from now on.”

Poor Patricia lay on the ground.
Thank god for the light not working.
The surrounding trees near the garden blocked out most of the moonlight. Shadows concealed most of the gore. I had to squint to truly see all of her. Her dress was torn at the bottom. Dirt smudged the fabric and her skin. Leaves sprawled over her face. Blood saturated her hair and made it appear redder than its original color. Her heels were missing; her panties wrapped haphazardly down her ankles.

“Oh my god. That’s Patricia. Is he raping them, too?” Elle let go of my hand and held her chest. I put my arm around her waist. She leaned her trembling body into me.

I’ll have to make this quick. She’s already shaken up.

“I know you got to view the first body yesterday,” I said. “Is he raping them?”

“No. It’s something worse.” Detective White took out a tiny pen flashlight, kneeled in front of Patricia, grabbed the end of her gown, and lifted it up so only he could see what was under. “Yes. This is our guy. It has to be.”

“How do you know?” Elle pressed the side of her shivering body against me as if she was having difficulty standing up.

Detective White looked at me. I nodded for him to go ahead and answer.

“Because this victim is also missing her vagina.”

I heard an intake of breath from Elle. “He’s cutting out the women’s vaginas?”

“Yes. It’s a clean cut with not a lot of blood. This person has experience working with bodies, maybe medical experience. The oddest part of all of this is that the first woman appeared to die before the killer cut her. I’m not sure. From what the coroner told me, the person stabbed them in the heart after the girl was dead and then cut the vagina away. I don’t know where he or she may take it after that. I did a search around the grounds and couldn’t find it. I’m thinking the person takes it back to their home like a souvenir.”

Elle shut her eyes. “I’m going to go. You’re right, Alvarez. This was a bad idea.”

“Okay. I’ll walk you back.”

“No. You should stay here and listen to whatever else you need to.”

I glanced at poor Patricia and then turned back to Elle. “Trust me. I would rather walk you back to your room than stay here. Detective White, do you need me for anything else?”

“No. I’ll probably be here until early in the morning. Reece is compiling a list of all the guests. I’m going to call in more men to help on this case.”

“No problem. I’ll notify my assistant.”

Detective White rose.

I guided Elle away from the garden. The closer we got to the house, the more shuffling of people leaving came to my ears. Hex had invited many. It would be chaos until all of their contact information was put down and they left the property. My phone rang. I checked the screen. Reece’s name glowed.

I stopped and let go of Elle. “Hold on. Let me get this real quick.” I placed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Sir?” Reece asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Several guards found Needa and Dayanara on the northern section of the moat.”

“Are they sure it was my grandma?”

“Oh yes. They were both covered in blood, but Needa threatened them with a curse if they wouldn’t let her go.”

“They’re covered in blood?” My stomach churned with unease.

Who’s blood? Patricia’s?

“Needa said she took Dayanara out to do a healing spell and that the blood was from a pig she slaughtered early this afternoon. I made sure the guards released her and got them both cleaned up. Dayanara is back in the attic. Needa is heading to her cottage.”

“No. Have my grandma stay inside the castle tonight. Let her know I ordered it and need to talk to her.”
Why the hell had she taken Dayanara out of her room and where did she get this
pig to slaughter?
“If my grandma refuses to stay in the room made up for her, just call me and I’ll deal with her.”

“Okay.” She paused for a second. It was unlike her. I waited for her to say something else. Finally, a small sigh traveled over the line. “Were you able to view the body?”

“Yes. Detective White will provide you with a report as soon as he can.” I waited for another few silent seconds.

“And will I be getting a flight for Hex’s new model. . . Elle?”

I didn’t like to think about Elle having to leave, but I was certain she would want to. The urge to protect her raged inside of me. I wanted her safe and far away from this psycho. “Yes, but not at this moment. Let me talk with her and I’ll let you know.”

“Will you be talking to her about this tonight?” An eerie edge laced each word. Reece never asked questions like that. She did whatever I asked and then continued onto the next duty.

“Yes. I’ll be talking with her about that tonight.”

“Should I also book you an appointment with Madam Miriam?” Her voice lowered to a

whisper. It sounded like she was going to cry.

“I can handle those appointments if necessary.” I turned away from Elle so she couldn’t hear the conversation. “Reece, is there something you want to talk to me about? You sound sad.”

“I-I . . . never mind. I shouldn’t, but. . .”

“Go ahead.”

“I just don’t think this Elle is the right person for you. I saw you both together at the party tonight, dancing and I just didn’t see. . . I just don’t think she’s good for you.”

“Okay. I think we should discuss this in further detail tomorrow. Right now is not a good time for me.” I didn’t want to fire Reece. She was my rock in a storm, but her confession of having feelings for me was making our business relationship difficult. I didn’t relish the idea of her watching Elle and I dance and knew it had hurt her to watch it. I never spent time with any woman, not in all of the years of me knowing her.

“Okay...”

“Goodnight, Reece.” I wasn’t excited about this talk with Reece, or the one I had to have with grandma about her damn spells and where she’d found so much blood.

Chapter 13

~Elle

Not much passed between us as we approached the stairs. What else could we say after seeing such a horrific scene like that? Although my guards walked four feet behind me, icicles of terror sliced throughout my body. I’d never seen a dead person before, and hoped I would never have to see that again.

I should’ve let go of his hand. I was a strong woman, right? I’d been through rough things by myself and survived. Yet Alvarez’s presence gave me a sense of safety, more than the bodyguards or even the tons of guards that now surrounded the perimeter of the castle, and much more than all of the cops that combed the property for clues and traces of the killer. Just being next to Alvarez decreased my booming heart to a steady beat and enveloped my mind with him, instead of the images of the cold corpse carved out between her legs.

I gulped down my fear. He probably had hundreds of things to do right now, most of

them more important than spending time with a scared woman. “That looked like a pretty intense phone conversation between you and your assistant. That was her, right?”

“It was.” Tension crept over Alvarez’s face. “I have a bunch of things to do and she somewhat, well, without intending to do it, presented a new problem I don’t want to deal with.”

“I see.” I let go of his hand, but he seized it again. “I should let you go deal with all those problems.”

“I would rather not.”

“But do you have to?”

“Yeah.” He stared at the first step on the stairwell. “However, I’m starting to learn that no matter how quickly or slowly I solve a situation, another one comes right up to take its place. It’s like battling a forest fire with nothing but a worn out hose.”

“That sucks.”

“Pretty much.” He closed his eyes for a minute. “Would you like to have a drink with me? I promise not to keep you up too much longer.”

“A drink is exactly what I need. Maybe even several drinks. I think the question I should offer you is, would you mind me getting so sloshed that you have to carry me upstairs?”

“That actually sounds like fun after what we’ve seen tonight.”

“Then direct me toward the bar.”

“Let’s go to my office.” He guided me upstairs and toward the east wing, one of the few places I hadn’t seen when one of the servants carried my bags to my room and gave me a short tour.

The person who decorated the castle did so with vibrant earthy tones. Most of the rooms were filled with grassy greens, light coffee browns, clay reds, sandy shades, and flaming oranges. There was also a strong Cuban influence—captivating paintings draped the walls depicting men pounding hour glass drums as curvy women danced in brightly colored gowns.

Others portrayed people eating exotic foods among bustling cafes where women of many shades sat as the center of attention and men surrounded them strumming a guitar or handing them roses.

“All of these works are really romantic,” I said.

“We’re Cuban.”

I snorted. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Romance runs through our blood.” He paused at walnut double doors and opened them.

My guards remained in the hallway. Alvarez gestured to a dark brown leather couch along the opposite wall and went over to a bar in the corner. “What would you like to drink? Wine, something mixed, or really strong?”

“I’m usually a white wine drinker, but I think the night calls for something strong, just not too much for a light-weight like me.”

His room represented my idea of him—striking, yet a controlled quiet with a secret edge.

Rich walnut wood dominated the room. A tan color coated the walls. Thick, beige carpet covered the floors. Heaps of papers stacked on his desk, but not in a clutter. They all had their place, their own organized category to rest in. Unlike the other rooms we’d passed, there were no paintings in here, just pictures of his family, but none of himself. In fact, there were tons of framed pictures on shelves or at the edge of his desk with a young Hex and less wrinkled grandma, not one of him.

Where are all the pictures of him? Does he not like taking them?

The only thing in the room that seemed out of place was the stack of new, bright orange candles resting in the center of his desk.