The Scarlet Deep
Page 70
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“Leonor,” Terry said, his voice low. “Come out.”
Murphy said, “We just want to talk, Leonor.”
He heard her voice coming from the other room. “Send your men away. I’ll meet with you and Terry. That’s all.”
“Murphy, me and six of your men?” Terry asked. “Not a chance.”
“You know how many people I have with me,” she said. “I’ll send all but Gasper out. Your men wait with mine in the lobby.”
Murphy murmured, “Do it. She’s too smart to come at us directly like this, and we need to talk to her.”
“Fine.” Terry nodded at Roger, who backed up and stood against the opposite wall with his men while Leonor’s door cracked open. Three men and two women walked out. They stood across from Terry’s men, watching with narrowed eyes. Only a sharp command from inside the penthouse caused them to move. One by one, the soldiers walked down the hall and exited the stairwell.
Murphy was the first in the door. He decided to turn on the charm since Terry was sadly lacking in anything that resembled it.
“Leonor,” Murphy said, switching on a lamp that bathed the dark room in a soft light. “For the record, darling, I don’t think you had anything to do with this.”
“Some son of a bitch is trying to make it look like I did.” Leonor was spitting mad, stalking the length of the loft-style room, its wall of glass overlooking the city lights south of the Thames. Murphy noted that the vampire was dressed casually. She had donned worn denim jeans and a skintight black shirt that showed an impressive figure normally hidden behind business attire.
A handsome young man lounged behind her in similar dress, watching them silently with coal-black eyes. Gasper was Leonor’s lieutenant, a water vampire nearly as old as his mistress, and—according to rumors—her occasional lover. He watched them like the shrewd soldier he’d been in his human life.
There had been no official meetings scheduled for the night, and Leonor looked very much like someone who had planned to enjoy the abundant nightlife of the city. She didn’t look like someone who had been expecting to be the suspect in a murder.
“You’re angry,” Terry said.
A violent stream of Spanish almost blew back his hair. Gasper said something under his breath, and Leonor glared at him. Murphy saw her take a breath before she turned to them.
“I am angry. Terry, you know how much respect I have for both you and Gemma, but from the beginning, something about this summit bothered me. I couldn’t say what it was exactly, but I’m sure you knew I was withholding information. I did not trust Rens Anker, but I am not a fool to provoke his brother’s wrath.”
“Why didn’t you say something privately?” Murphy asked. “It was quite obvious you weren’t cooperating. It puts the rest of us in an odd position, Leonor. You look guilty.”
Leonor frowned at him as if she’d just noticed Murphy was there. “Why are you here?”
Murphy shrugged carelessly. “I was bored. I also happen to think you didn’t kill Rens or attack the O’Briens. If you want me to send Cormac, I’d be happy to fetch him.”
Leonor curled her lip. “The American is beneath my notice. I have no interest in him or his child.”
“So why did a Spanish-speaking assassin go after Novia O’Brien?” Terry asked.
“Because Spaniards are excellent killers?” Gasper said, his voice low. “We don’t control every human of Spanish blood in England, Mr. Ramsay. That’s your job, isn’t it?”
Murphy broke in before Terry erupted. “Clearly, someone who wanted to kill Rens and get rid of Cormac has noted Leonor’s antagonistic behavior and decided to take advantage.”
“So you do think Rens was killed by someone at the summit?” Leonor asked.
“Yes.”
Terry growled, “Who?”
“Who benefits from my mistress’s trouble?” Gasper asked. “Terry is the most obvious, of course.”
“Why?” Terry asked.
“The wine,” Leonor said. “I’m expanding my operation into South America.” She smiled at Terry. “Surprise.”
Terry waved his hand and went to sit across from Gasper. “Gemma told me you would make that jump months ago. I know about the land in Chile.”
Leonor narrowed her eyes but offered nothing else.
Murphy followed Terry’s example, leaving Leonor standing. After a few moments of the three men staring up at her, she relented and perched on a barstool.
“Also, I… acquired a new winemaker last year.”
Terry laughed and asked, “Did Jean lose another one?”
“He treats his people like horse dung and expects them to be grateful. It was easy to tempt the young human away. This winemaker studied under your man, Terry. The others aren’t nearly as good.”
“They know how to make it,” Gasper said, “but Jean will be making the vampire version of box wine. At least for a long time. He won’t be able to compete.”
Murphy listened silently, taking everything in.
“Ramsay,” he said when Leonor and Gasper had finished. “I know we weren’t scheduled to have a meeting tonight, but don’t you think we should call one?”
“Why?”
“I want to see all of us in one room,” Murphy said. “I can’t decide who to believe.” His eyes went to Leonor. “Are you going to share information now that Rens is conveniently gone?”
Murphy said, “We just want to talk, Leonor.”
He heard her voice coming from the other room. “Send your men away. I’ll meet with you and Terry. That’s all.”
“Murphy, me and six of your men?” Terry asked. “Not a chance.”
“You know how many people I have with me,” she said. “I’ll send all but Gasper out. Your men wait with mine in the lobby.”
Murphy murmured, “Do it. She’s too smart to come at us directly like this, and we need to talk to her.”
“Fine.” Terry nodded at Roger, who backed up and stood against the opposite wall with his men while Leonor’s door cracked open. Three men and two women walked out. They stood across from Terry’s men, watching with narrowed eyes. Only a sharp command from inside the penthouse caused them to move. One by one, the soldiers walked down the hall and exited the stairwell.
Murphy was the first in the door. He decided to turn on the charm since Terry was sadly lacking in anything that resembled it.
“Leonor,” Murphy said, switching on a lamp that bathed the dark room in a soft light. “For the record, darling, I don’t think you had anything to do with this.”
“Some son of a bitch is trying to make it look like I did.” Leonor was spitting mad, stalking the length of the loft-style room, its wall of glass overlooking the city lights south of the Thames. Murphy noted that the vampire was dressed casually. She had donned worn denim jeans and a skintight black shirt that showed an impressive figure normally hidden behind business attire.
A handsome young man lounged behind her in similar dress, watching them silently with coal-black eyes. Gasper was Leonor’s lieutenant, a water vampire nearly as old as his mistress, and—according to rumors—her occasional lover. He watched them like the shrewd soldier he’d been in his human life.
There had been no official meetings scheduled for the night, and Leonor looked very much like someone who had planned to enjoy the abundant nightlife of the city. She didn’t look like someone who had been expecting to be the suspect in a murder.
“You’re angry,” Terry said.
A violent stream of Spanish almost blew back his hair. Gasper said something under his breath, and Leonor glared at him. Murphy saw her take a breath before she turned to them.
“I am angry. Terry, you know how much respect I have for both you and Gemma, but from the beginning, something about this summit bothered me. I couldn’t say what it was exactly, but I’m sure you knew I was withholding information. I did not trust Rens Anker, but I am not a fool to provoke his brother’s wrath.”
“Why didn’t you say something privately?” Murphy asked. “It was quite obvious you weren’t cooperating. It puts the rest of us in an odd position, Leonor. You look guilty.”
Leonor frowned at him as if she’d just noticed Murphy was there. “Why are you here?”
Murphy shrugged carelessly. “I was bored. I also happen to think you didn’t kill Rens or attack the O’Briens. If you want me to send Cormac, I’d be happy to fetch him.”
Leonor curled her lip. “The American is beneath my notice. I have no interest in him or his child.”
“So why did a Spanish-speaking assassin go after Novia O’Brien?” Terry asked.
“Because Spaniards are excellent killers?” Gasper said, his voice low. “We don’t control every human of Spanish blood in England, Mr. Ramsay. That’s your job, isn’t it?”
Murphy broke in before Terry erupted. “Clearly, someone who wanted to kill Rens and get rid of Cormac has noted Leonor’s antagonistic behavior and decided to take advantage.”
“So you do think Rens was killed by someone at the summit?” Leonor asked.
“Yes.”
Terry growled, “Who?”
“Who benefits from my mistress’s trouble?” Gasper asked. “Terry is the most obvious, of course.”
“Why?” Terry asked.
“The wine,” Leonor said. “I’m expanding my operation into South America.” She smiled at Terry. “Surprise.”
Terry waved his hand and went to sit across from Gasper. “Gemma told me you would make that jump months ago. I know about the land in Chile.”
Leonor narrowed her eyes but offered nothing else.
Murphy followed Terry’s example, leaving Leonor standing. After a few moments of the three men staring up at her, she relented and perched on a barstool.
“Also, I… acquired a new winemaker last year.”
Terry laughed and asked, “Did Jean lose another one?”
“He treats his people like horse dung and expects them to be grateful. It was easy to tempt the young human away. This winemaker studied under your man, Terry. The others aren’t nearly as good.”
“They know how to make it,” Gasper said, “but Jean will be making the vampire version of box wine. At least for a long time. He won’t be able to compete.”
Murphy listened silently, taking everything in.
“Ramsay,” he said when Leonor and Gasper had finished. “I know we weren’t scheduled to have a meeting tonight, but don’t you think we should call one?”
“Why?”
“I want to see all of us in one room,” Murphy said. “I can’t decide who to believe.” His eyes went to Leonor. “Are you going to share information now that Rens is conveniently gone?”
