~ Death Comes In Red ~

by

Beverley Bateman

Holly drove through them. The gates slid closed behind her.

It occurred to Holly that maybe Eric and Lillian had been right and this wasn’t such a bright idea. She was effectively locked in the estate of Victor Santiago, with no escape--should she need an escape. Her stomach did a flip as she realized that she had no idea what the man would do when she mentioned his wife.

What if he got angry with her? If he decided to dispose of her, no one would miss her for at least a day or two. Except maybe, Gino might. She was supposed to be checking in with him first thing in the morning. Then again he might just get angry if she didn’t show and fire her.

Oh welWings ePress excerpt Dangerous Curvesl, it was too late now.

She proceeded up the lengthy circular driveway which looped leisurely through the estate, providing the driver with a view of rolling, manicured lawns, gorgeous red, white, yellow and orange flower beds, ornamental shrubs and tall majestic palm trees. Everything perfectly pruned and weeded. It was breathtaking.

Ahead, a humungous white stucco building with a wide palazzo style entranceway across the front of the structure sat on the top of a rise. White marble steps led up to the landing. As she pulled up to the entrance Holly knew, without even seeing it, that the other side of the property would roll down to meet a white sandy beach and the deep blue green of the Atlantic Ocean.

Jerking the Bug to a stop, she paused for a second. Glancing back over her shoulder she knew that if she tried to escape there was no way she’d make it back to the gates. Sighing, she slid her legs out of the car and stood up on her ridiculous high heels. As she tripped up the steps the door swung open and she found herself looking up at a tall, mahogany skinned man with flashing dark eyes and even white teeth as he smiled down at her.

"Miss Devine?"

"Yes. Mr. Santiago?" She found herself staring. He was an incredibly good-looking man in his early forties, impeccably dressed in tan linen slacks and a green golf shirt with a horse emblem on the pocket. Charm oozed from every pore. Add his obvious wealth and she could understand why a young woman might fall under his spell.

"Welcome. Please come into my humble home." Victor Santiago extended his hand. As Holly gingerly put her hand forward, it was immediately encompassed in a firm grip. He smiled down into her eyes, stroking the back of her hand lightly. "I’m so pleased to meet you. When you said Capelleti Investigations, I was expecting one of those, how do you say it? Gumshoes?"

"Well I am a PI. I’m not sure about a gumshoe." Holly struggled to extricate her hand, but Victor Santiago appeared reluctant to release it as he led her through the front door.

Entering the foyer, she gazed down the long, hallway--India carpets in deep, vibrant shades of maroon and gold and black covered most of the polished wood floors. The walls were painted a deep cream alternated with fabric panels; several large Italian marble statues were strategically placed for effect, providing an elegant motif.

"You are definitely not a gumshoe. You are a very beautiful woman, Holly. May I call you Holly?"

"Oh, yes, please."

"Thank you, Holly, and I am Victor. Yes, you may be a private investigator, but I can tell you are one with breeding and culture. It will be a pleasure talking with someone like you. Tea?"

"No, thank you. I really am here on business. I just have a few questions. Perhaps you could tell me about your wife?"

"My wife? But of course. What seems to be the problem with my wife?" Victor flashed his even white teeth at her, opening a door into a small sitting room, masculinely furnished in dark wood and shades of forest green and burgundy. He waved his hand toward an overstuffed burgundy leather armchair. "Please. Would you like something stronger perhaps, sherry, or--"

"No, nothing, thank you. I appreciate your hospitality but I just wanted to ask you a few questions about your wife, " Holly interrupted. Her palms were sweating. She felt like little red riding hood facing the wolf. She hadn’t expected him to be so charming--a little like a snake-oil salesman.

"Ah, yes, my wife, Mitzi. What would you like to know about her?" Victor sat down in the chair beside Holly, leaning forward, his knees almost touching her knees.

Holly opened her mouth, then froze. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. They weren’t alone. She was sure there was someone else in the room. "Excuse me, is there someone else here?"

"Ahh, yes, Ramon. He is my right hand man. Ramon, meet Miss Holly Devine. She’s a private investigator."

A tall, well built man in dark pants and an open necked gray dress shirt moved out from beside the heavy dark green velvet curtains, almost sliding across the floor. He stopped in front of Holly and she found herself looking up into rich, dark brown eyes, like pools of melted Swiss chocolate. He had long black hair, pulled back into a ponytail. He reminded her of Steven Segal and she bit her tongue to keep from asking if he did kung fu or whatever that thing was.

"Miss Devine." He nodded his head; his dark eyes scanned her body up and down then focused on her face.

Holly shivered under his gaze. She found she was unable to breath. A tightness in her chest spread throughout her body as she continued to stare at the man. She opened and closed her mouth several times before managing to squeak a response. "Ramon."

She swallowed hard several times, trying to gain control of herself. Here she was, behind locked gates and acting like a total fool over a servant. It wasn’t like she’d never met a good-looking man before this. Victor Santiago was a very good-looking man.

But she had never met anyone quite like this man. Everything about him said trouble--stay away. But all Holly could think about was how that body would look in a g-string.

Ramon stepped back a few paces, standing casually behind Victor.

"Ramon is almost always with me. He knows me better than I know myself some days. Now what was it about my wife you wanted to ask?" Victor’s voice intruded on her private thoughts.

"Oh, yes, your wife," Holly fought to regain her composure and remember the reason for her visit. She prayed neither of them had noticed her overreaction to that man. "Yes, well her sister has reported her missing."

Victor sighed, pulling his mouth downward so he looked almost sad. "Dear Millie and her overprotective imagination."

"Then your wife isn’t missing?"

"I almost wish she was. In some ways it would be much easier for me. But sadly, no, she’s not missing." Victor paused, staring off into space.

"Your wife? You were about to say..."

"Oh, yes, Mitzi. It’s so hard to talk about you know. I’m devoted to her. And she, she--the golf pro, he’s disappeared as well. It’s pretty obvious. She phoned the other night to tell me she was fine, but she wouldn’t be coming back. The police have talked to me as well and they’re perfectly satisfied that Mitzi is off somewhere with her lover."

"She phoned?"

"Yes. She said she didn’t want to worry me. Ramon took the call and called me to the phone."

Holly glanced across at Ramon. He nodded his head. "Did she say where she was?"

"No. I believe they were heading toward Arizona or the west coast. He thought he’d be able to get a job there at one of the big name golf courses. It’s so sad. She’ll be back, you know. It may be in a few months or even a year, but she’ll be back."

"You’re sure?"

"Absolutely, she loves me. She’s just infatuated with a younger man. We’re simpatico. She’ll be back." He smiled, reaching over and patting Holly’s hand.

"Well, Millie is concerned because Mitzi hasn’t contacted her. If she called you, why wouldn’t she have phoned her sister?"

"Millie is controlling. She’s always wanted to be a major part of Mitzi’s life. Mitzi couldn’t take a breath without checking in with her sister. I think she might just have had enough. She might have decided to run away from her sister, so she could finally draw a breath of fresh air on her own--one she didn’t have to share with her sister."

"I see, but Millie is definite that Mitzi has disappeared."

"She’s quite right. Mitzi has disappeared, but it’s her own choice. Millie will try to find her, even though it’s perfectly obvious that Mitzi doesn’t want to be found.

"So what do I tell Millie?"

"Tell her that Mitzi has run off with that goddamn golf pro and doesn’t want to be found or bothered by either Millie or myself, obviously. Tell her that Mitzi called two nights ago and she’s fine."