Sapphire Nights (Crystal Magic Book 1)(88)

“Shooting someone in the back would be the MO of a slacker like Francois,” the detective admitted.

But would Francois hit a man over the head with a shovel? Or could they have two murderers on the loose? Walker shifted his shoulders uneasily inside his shirt as he waited.

Kurt returned with the officer sent to find Francois. He nodded at Walker but spoke to the detective in charge. “Francois had some kind of breakdown last night. We had him taken to the city for evaluation. My secretary can give you the name and the number for the facility. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d need him for further questioning. He’s an old family retainer, and we treat him like one of us.”

“What kind of breakdown?” the detective asked impatiently.

Kurt looked uncomfortable. “The lodge has a reputation for being haunted. I’d rather you didn’t carry this further than this room.” He waited expectantly. When no one responded, he continued, “Francois began screaming Juan’s ghost was haunting him. He grabbed the keys of the car, but I didn’t think he was in any condition to be driving. When I took the keys away, he had a. . . meltdown. He began babbling about ghosts and fires and then rambled about how he’d only wanted to help us. He wasn’t coherent.”

“Does he do drugs?” the detective asked curtly, making notes.

Again, Kurt hesitated, before giving a brief nod. “I think so, although probably just pot and only when he isn’t driving.”

Walker hid a grimace and accompanied Kurt out when he was done.

“That didn’t go well, did it?” Kurt muttered as he stalked back toward his office. “But that old man wouldn’t hurt a soul.”

“Even out of loyalty to your family?” Walker asked.

“Shit.” Kurt halted and stared at one of the more modern artworks on the corridor wall. “But my mother isn’t here. He’s loyal to her, not any of us.”

“But the lodge represents her. If he suspected someone was a danger to the lodge?”

“Like Juan? Juan was our head security guy. No, that doesn’t make sense either. The only thing that makes sense is that everyone up here goes crazy,” Kurt muttered bitterly.

“I think that’s what the Lucys are saying,” Walker said in amusement. “But the cover up could go further back than Juan. Was Francois here when your father died?”

Kurt glared at him. “You mean, when your father was killed? Francois would have been here, yes. He’s the son of a cook my family employed in the city. He was unambitious then, and he hasn’t improved with age. But he can drive a car, and he’ll do anything for my mother. I doubt that even she could persuade him to dirty his hands and lift a weapon heavy enough to crack a skull.”

Walker nodded agreement. “Yeah, he sounds like a victim more than someone who takes action. You might want to send a lawyer to be with him when they question him.”

Running his hand through his hair, Kurt nodded. “Thanks. That’s something I can do.”

Walker shook hands and walked off. Kurt Kennedy was a man who liked tight control over all aspects of his life. A murder investigation on his doorstep had to be driving him around the bend. . . right along with the Lucys, he thought in amusement.

Sam was right. They needed a better definition of crazy.



“They’re bringing Valdis home,” Mariah murmured as she tied on her apron and passed Sam behind the counter. “She and Daisy will be staying with Cass tonight so they can be sure she’s stable. Don’t spread the word yet.”

Sam thought she ought to ask why not, but sometimes it was safer to see for herself. Around here, everything was subject to interpretation. Did she really want to make Hillvale her home?

Alan Gump came in for lunch with a group of men in business suits. It seemed odd not to see Xavier’s green jacket in the crowd, but Sam did as the others had warned her earlier and didn’t speak to the asshat.

The burly real estate mogul in his designer suit behaved as if she didn’t exist, and that was fine too. Bringing the group their drinks, she heard them talk of access roads and engineers. She really needed to see that trust fund document Walker claimed existed. She should have the lawyer handling her parents’ estate look at it.

Maybe she ought to have a will drawn up first.

Where that had stray thought come from?

Feeling restless and uneasy, fearing Hillvale might be starting to get to her, Sam hurriedly cleaned up the counter and tables after the lunch rush. “I want to talk to Cass about her roses,” she told Dinah as she tugged off her apron.

“Take some of those sandwiches with you,” Dinah called. “You may need to feed that man of yours.”

Her man? Sam smiled and took the sandwiches, but the notion of having a man of her own—was a little unsettling. Of course, she was in a nervous mood anyway. She conjured up a memory of Walker’s bronze visage, wicked smile, and cowboy hat, and felt a warm rush that steadied her.

By the time she put the food in the studio refrigerator, showered, and grabbed her walking stick, Mariah was already sitting with Cass and Valdis on the Victorian front porch. Valdis had her bandaged foot propped on a cushioned wicker stool with an ice pack on it.

“Where’s Daisy?” Sam took the seat on a wicker settee Cass indicated and accepted a glass of whatever they were drinking—spiked punch from the taste of it. She could be generous and call it sangria since orange slices were involved.