Ryan granted. “When did you receive the call?”
“The morning he… his body… was discovered. The person who called me suggested that I would be welcome if I decided to come. But I would have anyway,” she added.
“I see,” Ryan commented. “Was this official who notified you a man?”
She looked directly at him then and frowned in consternation. “I couldn’t say for certain. A husky voice, but not too deep.”
Couldn’t say, or wouldn’t? Ryan wondered. She gave no outward signs that she was lying or withholding the truth, but that meant very little other than that she could be accomplished at it and had studied body language herself.
Nina understood why she was being so adamant about participating personally in the investigation of Desmond’s death, even if Ryan McDonough didn’t. She did think it surprising and somewhat peculiar that the king would allow and even encourage it. The best she had hoped for when she’d asked permission was, as McDonough had suggested, to be kept informed as events unfolded. And to hound someone for answers if they weren’t forthcoming.
Much to her surprise, the king had sent her to the P. I.’ s office with the suggestion that she assist him. That alone indicated to her that the investigator might need a push to get things done, that the king either knew him to be shorthanded or lacking in initiative. Nina glanced out the tinted windows at the city surrounding them. It was so lovely here in San Sebastian, an inter esting combination of old-world architecture and innovative modern buildings that signified a successful transition into the twenty-first century.
Had Desmond loved it? Had he felt at home here? Accepted? There had been a time in her life when she had absolutely idolized her older brother. He had been so handsome, so aloof and tragic even as a teenager. How proud she had felt whenever he took the time to notice her and smile down at her.
Looking back, she realized that he’d had much the same affection for the family dog. Still, all her friends had sighed, giggled and mooned over Desmond. He had actually championed her a few times when Dad had called her on the carpet for one transgression or another. Later however, she had noticed that Desmond routinely argued with her father on just about everything.
Had they been close? No. As much as she had wished it so, her brother had been little more than an enigmatic stranger.
If she were perfectly honest, this hurried trip and her involvement here were more in the nature of alleviating her guilt. She had sailed through life without a glitch, taking for granted the love of her parents, her success in school, her wide circle of friends and her sense of belonging. Desmond had suffered every step of the way.
He had always been at odds with the adults in his life, parents and teachers. Desmond had been a loner and had never quite fit in anywhere. He’d either tried too hard or, in some instances, not tried at all.
Nina hoped he had found his place here in Montebello, where his birth father had once lived. She wished she had been able to discuss it with the duke, who must have known him very well. She had to admit, royalty intimidated her.
Desmond was born of royalty, though he hadn’t known about it until after Nina’s father had died. To a very young and impressionable Nina, that discovery had fully explained Desmond’s difficulties in adjusting to life as they had known it. A prince among paupers, she recalled thinking at the time.
Now she could laugh at that childish conclusion. Her family might not have been rich, but they were solid upper-middle class with a healthy bank account. Love and affection were also in ready supply. Neither she nor her brother had ever lacked for a single thing they truly needed.
Nina missed her parents. Her father had succumbed to a virulent case of pneumonia just before Desmond left. The revelation that followed his death—that Desmond wasn’t really his, but was instead the illegitimate son of a Montebellan Duke—had further alienated her brother. The loss of both husband and son had been too much for Nina’s mother. She had died only months later, finally giving in to the weak heart that had plagued her for years.
Of course she had romanticized the sad figure Desmond had become. Most of his problems were of his own making. But he was her brother, faults and all. Poor, handsome, tragic Desmond did not deserve such a sad end.
If she could just do this one last thing for him, see his killer brought to justice, Nina thought she might be able to put aside the guilt she felt for having a childhood that was so much better than his. She had always felt she owed him something to make up for what he had missed and she had enjoyed, and this was all there was left to do for him.
“When did you last hear from your brother?” McDonough asked, interrupting her bittersweet thoughts.
She turned to look at him. “The last time? A few weeks ago.” Desmond had contacted her for a loan, but that was none of this man’s business. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the murder.
“You said you once entertained a close bond with him. That was not true lately?” he asked, the intensity of his gaze absolutely unnerving.
“Is this an interrogation, Mr. McDonough?” she demanded, feeling defensive, especially since she did not want to answer the question.
“Yes,” he readily admitted. “And what happened to calling me Ryan? I thought we were supposed to become more familiar. It was your idea… Nina.”
They had stopped at a traffic light and she had the overwhelming impulse to get out and slam the door shut in his face. Instead, she took a deep breath and prayed for patience. Only when she had collected herself did she answer. “My brother and I were as close as can be expected given the eight-year difference in our ages and the fact that we had not visited much since he left home.” And not at all since he had come to Montebello.
He pursed his lips and nodded. Then he smiled sadly. “And there was also the fact that you had different fathers. How did that affect the two of you?”
Nina shifted in her seat, gritted her teeth and met his gaze with a glare. “If you’re considering sibling rivalry as a possible motive, I do have an alibi. I was on the other side of the world at the time Des was killed.”
He smiled more naturally. “And that can be verified quite easily, I’m sure.”
“Absolutely. So you can eliminate me from your list of suspects, McDonough,” she snapped. “If you have any suspects.”
“I have several hundred thousand at the moment. But you’re going to remedy that with your input on the investigation, aren’t you? When would you like to begin?”
“Now.”
“First I’d like an answer to my previous question. Was there any sibling rivalry between you and Desmond?”
“Certainly not on my part!” she exclaimed. “Are you always this abrasive?”
He shrugged those shoulders she couldn’t help but admire. “Nope. Sometimes I’m even more so. It’s a plus in this line of work, trust me. Looks like you have the attitude down pat, if nothing else.”
Then he cocked his head to one side and raked his bottom lip with his straight, white teeth. She thought she saw a glint of amusement in his eyes. “But you obviously don’t trust me, do you? If you did, you would be content to lie around the palace eating grapes or whatever it is the royal cousins do, and let me handle
