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.”
“My, but you do sound put upon, my friend.” It was Lorenzo again, obviously calling from his cell phone.
“That’s only because I am,” Ryan said conversationally, then added the requisite, “Your Grace.”
Lorenzo continued, speaking swiftly and much more seriously, “I had hoped to arrive before she did, but I was delayed. There was no time to arrange another audience with the king so that he could make you aware of the situation. He sent me to inform you that Nina Caruso is to be closely watched and that he wishes you to do this personally. Her motive for coming here bears careful scrutiny.”
“Why is that? Her brother’s dead and she’s come to find out what happened. Isn’t that motive enough?”
Lorenzo issued a little hum of suspicion. “So she told the reporters at the airport when she arrived this morning.”
“Reporters?” Ryan asked.
“TV-news team and the usual print hounds. She must have notified them herself. How else would they have known she was coming?”
Ryan shook his head. “Not necessarily. You know the papers keep a file on all you royals and everybody associated with you. Once word got out that Desmond had been killed, they would have started calling his family to get a reaction. If they found out where Nina worked, anybody in her office could have told them she was on her way over here. Especially if the caller represented himself as a friend who was worried about her, or used some ruse like that. The paparazzi are experts at that kind of thing. They’d have been lying in wait when she got off the plane.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Good point. But still supposition.” “You think she had prior knowledge, maybe conspired to have Desmond killed?” Ryan asked.
“Possibly. Find out and keep an eye on her while you do. A very close eye, my friend.”
“Count on it.”
So Nina Caruso was a suspect. Her motive for coming might be to insinuate herself into the royal family, play on their loyalty and gain their sympathy and acceptance by showing her grief. However, it was also possible that she was the one who had arranged Desmond’s murder and planned to cash in on his death. No doubt there was an inheritance of some kind.
He couldn’t deny she bore watching. Ryan just wished he wasn’t the one directed to do it.
Since he had no choice, he assured Lorenzo he understood and would comply. Then he went to join Ms. Caruso in the outer office.
“So, we are to be partners,” Ryan said, but he did so pleasantly, as if perfectly resigned to the situation.
She yanked the outer door open and stood aside for him to exit. “I’ll pull my weight,” she announced, her classic features set with fierce determination. “You’ll see.”
“Of course you will,” he answered idly. As if any cop in his right mind would actually allow a civilian and family member to take part in a murder case. And he was still a cop at heart.
Pavelli was waiting for them outside. “Ms. Caruso’s bags are in the boot,” he told Ryan. “If you like, Marcello and the car are at your disposal today.
Ryan accepted the offer, gesturing grandly toward the long black beast as if he owned it. “Your carriage awaits.”
She climbed into the limo and settled back against the butter-soft leather. Pavelli got in front with the driver as Ryan joined Nina Caruso in the back. He was glad to see that the glass partition was closed. It gave them privacy.
Ryan looked at her and imagined he saw her chin tremble. Had to be a trick of light. Nevertheless, he was prompted by it to ask, “Why are you really so intent on doing this, Ms. Caruso?”
She met his gaze with one just as intent as his. “Because Desmond was my brother.”
“He was Duke Lorenzo’s brother, too, and the duke trusts me to handle this.”
She granted him a short nod. “That may be, but I still want to be involved.”
“I can understand if you came over for the funeral, but why horn in on my duties? You don’t know a thing about investigations.” Then it occurred to him that she might. “Do you? Are you a cop or something?”
“No, I’m a graphic designer.”
Ryan snorted, not knowing—or caring much—what that entailed. He knew it didn’t have a damned thing to do with detective work.
“I have an excellent eye for detail,” she assured him, chafing her arms with her palms as if she were cold. “To tell the truth, I have to do something. Can’t you understand that? I have to do something for Desmond.”
“You and your brother must have been very close,” he said.
“Yes, of course.” Then she added, “But he’s been away a long time. Since he was twenty.” The admission cost her, he thought. She didn’t like confiding anything about herself, but it was his business to pry out secrets. And he was curious.
If she was anything at all like Desmond Caruso, there might be excellent reason to keep close tabs on her. By most accounts, the man had been a crass opportunist. Ryan had met him once and thought he was a jerk. But even jerks deserved justice.
“How did you find out about the murder?” he asked, carefully noting her body language for an indication that she would lie.
She sighed. “Someone from the palace phoned me. I’m sorry, I didn’t get
