found out so far. You’ve had two full days and part of this one.” She paused for a second, then added, “Ryan.”
Ryan bit his tongue and unclenched his fist, deliberately projecting benevolence and goodwill. She didn’t react as expected to outright dismissal. He’d try manners. Not usually his last resort and shouldn’t be now, but they had gotten off on the wrong foot the minute she’d walked in.
Empathize first, he thought. “Of course you want to know what’s going on and I understand that completely. You may read copies of the reports tomorrow if His Majesty sees fit to share them with you. Until then, I must ask you to excuse me so that I can continue to do my job.” There. Polite and to the point. Get lost, cookie.
“Exactly what is your job?” she asked, not moving a hair.
“I’m a private investigator frequently employed by the Crown,” he answered. “Surely you knew that already.”
She nodded. “Not chief of criminal investigations.”
So she was capable of a neatly placed low blow. “There is no one with that particular title in Montebello. But I assure you, I am qualified to undertake the investigation. I was a homicide detective in a former life.” He offered her another smile. “Savannah.”
“You were fired?” she guessed.
“No, I resigned.” He looked around his well-appointed office as if that was explanation enough for changing jobs. The light gray walls and expensive carpet, sturdy black furniture and maroon leather chairs beat the hell out of his corner of the precinct where he’d spent his first twelve years in law enforcement. And the job here had literally saved his life and sanity.
Lorenzo Sebastiani, chief of royal intelligence, whom Ryan knew well, often called on him to dabble a little in the political intrigue so prevalent in this area of the world. In fact, Lorenzo had recommended him to the king for this particular investigation. Lorenzo had a personal interest in it. He was also half brother to Desmond Caruso, the victim in this case. Both were sons of the king’s brother, Duke Antonio Sebastiani, who had died some years ago.
Desmond’s mother had been one of the palace maids. She had married an Italian businessman, Guiseppe Caruso, and had moved to the States. Ryan studied the young woman sitting in his chair, a product of that marriage.
“King Marcus assured me you would welcome my help,” she said.
“I regret to say he was wrong.”
The door opened. Duke Lorenzo entered without preamble. “Good morning,” he said formally. Nina rose from the chair.
Ryan eyed him with suspicion. “In case you two haven’t met, Nina Caruso, this is His Grace, Duke Lorenzo Sebastiani.” Lorenzo reached for her hand and bowed over it. “Little sister. I regret we must meet for the first time in such terrible circumstances. I share in your grief for the loss of our brother.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she mumbled, obviously a little taken aback and unsure what else she should say.
She made a perfect curtsy, however. Her mother must have taught her court manners, Ryan decided.
Ryan managed a nod, his version of a bow, in Lorenzo’s direction.
Americans generally had problems kowtowing, and Ryan admitted he was the rule rather than the exception. Also, he knew the duke well enough to know when Lorenzo was putting on airs. Ryan had seen him in his shirtsleeves, smoking cigars and dealing cards across the table.
Not that Lorenzo even noticed Ryan’s nod. He was too busy taking Nina Caruso’s measure.
“I am so sorry to have missed your arrival at the palace,” Lorenzo said graciously. “The king has explained your mission to me.”
He then addressed Ryan. “And Pavelli just informed me of your objection. I should reiterate that our Nina’s participation in the investigation is not simply a request. It is her right as a sister, I believe.”
“I see,” Ryan said, tasting dry defeat. “Her right? Some new custom I’m not aware of?”
“Precisely,” Lorenzo affirmed. “There will be no problem accommodating her in this endeavor?” Though phrased as a question, Ryan knew very well it wasn’t.
He shrugged. “Probably, but I guess I’ll work around it if I have to.” His continued employment might be contingent on doing that, and this job was everything to him right now.
Work was his life. It was all he had left, and damned if he planned to junk it over something like this. He’d just have to invent some busywork to keep the woman out of his way while he was doing what had to be done.
“Excellent.” Lorenzo offered his hand and firmly shook Ryan’s, then smiled in Nina Caruso’s direction. “I shall tell the king that all systems are go. A space term for launching success, yes?” He raised an eyebrow at Ryan.
“Yes. Just before blastoff. Then everybody prays there’s no malfunction,” Ryan said wryly.
“As we all shall do. Grazie.”
Grazie for nothing, Ryan thought. He liked to think this was his investigation. The king had brought him in on it, but there wasn’t much doubt it had been Lorenzo’s idea to do so. And no doubt at all that Lorenzo was running the show. Ryan needed to know. “Shouldn’t we put all our cards on the table now. Decide who does what?”
The duke shrugged. “I provide you whatever access you need. You and your people follow through. Keep me up to date.”
“Fair enough,” Ryan agreed. It would simplify matters not to have to plow through the usual red tape involving court orders and search warrants. “I’ll be in touch.”
Lorenzo nodded, started to leave, then turned at the door. “When things settle a bit, we should arrange for another game. It has been a while.”
“Any time,” Ryan said, recalling the night at Pete’s not long ago when he had beat the royal socks off Prince Lucas, his chauffeur and Lorenzo. A strange, if rewarding, experience.
Ryan was usually up for a card game. And the winnings were nice, but he also gleaned information from those get togethers that sometimes proved valuable. He smiled at the thought.
“I shall leave you both to it then,” Lorenzo said and exited as swiftly as he had entered.
The determined look on Nina Caruso’s face instantly sobered Ryan’s smile, as did the prospect of stumbling over a family member of the victim while he concentrated on finding a murderer. Lorenzo would stay out of his way and allow him to do what he’d been hired to do, but it was clear this woman wouldn’t. Not when she had royal sanction to interfere.
“So, do I need to ask again for your consent in this?” she asked.
“Nope. Not necessary,” Ryan said. “It’s all in the way you put the question, I guess. A duke for backup definitely helped.”
This was Ryan’s first homicide in nearly a year. How was he supposed to give it his undivided attention and baby-sit at the same time? Nina Caruso was going to be trouble with a capital T, he just knew it.
In the first place, she was highly distracting. In the second place… she was highly distracting.
“You’re not going to be one of those condescending types, are you?” she asked as she rounded his desk, picked up her purse and slung the strap over her shoulder. “You should know, I loathe being patronized in any way.”
“Why, no, ma’am, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her, sounding as superciliously indulgent as he possibly could. And as Southern as anybody from Savannah, Georgia, ever had.
The phone rang. “Would you excuse me a moment, please?” he asked her, looking meaningfully at the door.
Reluctantly she nodded and stepped just outside and closed it as Ryan answered, “McDonough.”