Insidious (16 page)

Venus’s face lit up when Rob strolled into the living room that evening and smiled broadly at his family. Ten years had passed and now a man stood in front of them, not a boy. His father, Guthrie, inhaled sharply and smiled. His voice was scarce above a whisper. “Robbie, it’s really you?”

“Yes, Father, I’m home.”

Savich thought for a moment Guthrie would leap out of his chair and embrace his son, but there was too much reticence on both sides, too much uncertainty. But no one could be blind to the hunger in both men’s eyes. It was like a beacon for all to see, including Alexander, who stood motionless by the fireplace, allowing no expression at all on his face. Rob looked at his brother from a distance of fifteen feet. “Alexander.”

Alexander said nothing, merely nodded to him.

Venus rose, her beautiful Rasmussen green eyes lit to a hundred watts, and when Rob leaned down and kissed her cheek, she hugged him close, a look of sheer joy on her face. Savich saw how gently Rob held her, so very carefully, until she turned away toward his girlfriend,
shook her hand, and lightly patted her cheek. “You’re Marsia, I presume?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Marsia Gay was tall and model thin, her dark hair cut in a wedge that came to two sharp points at her jawline. She had remarkable dark purple eyes. Sherlock felt the pull of her when Marsia held out her white artist’s hand and beautiful long fingers to Venus. “At last,” Venus said, smiling at her. “Rob has told me so much about you, particularly your amazing sculptures. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Welcome to our home.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Rasmussen.”

“I believe you are younger than I expected.”

Rob gave them a silly grin. “Perhaps Marsia looks so much younger, Grandmother, because she never had the threat of jail hanging over her head like one of us here.”

There was a bit of laughter, and all eyes fixed on him.

Rob looked back over his shoulder. “The two guards you have posted outside were so thorough I expected to be strip-searched. I’m relieved they’re here, Grandmother.”

“I am as well. They will remain until this matter is resolved. Now, let Marsia meet everyone.” She made the introductions with an unspoken yet very real threat in her voice that the entire family seemed to heed, and wisely. Even Alexander stayed civil, though he eyed his brother with wariness and barely veiled contempt.

Savich and Sherlock watched with interest as silence fell, as when the curtain first rises on a play. Then Hildi was quickly at Rob’s side, touching his face and hugging him, leaning forward to have him kiss her cheek. She stood back and looked up at him. “My beautiful boy, how I’ve missed you. You must let me paint you, as I did your mother. There’s so much I’d like to capture, that special light in your eyes, the
way you tilt your head, just like your father.” She smiled at Marsia. “I fear even you, my dear, couldn’t capture those qualities in your metal sculptures.”

“No,” Marsia said, “you’re quite right.” She stood quietly at Rob’s side, a fixed smile on her face. Rob had probably warned her that pretty much anything could come floating out of Aunt Hildi’s mouth. If anything, she looked mildly amused.

When Venus introduced Marsia to Veronica, Veronica stepped forward, took Marsia’s hand. “I’ve read all about you, seen your sculptures at the Mianecki Gallery in Baltimore. Your work is amazing. I remember in particular a large piece named
Hercules,
copper and steel, I believe. I could feel the power you gave him, the bold spirit. A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Gay.”

“Thank you,” Marsia said. “He spoke to me,” she added. “Call me Marsia, please.”

Veronica gave her a beautiful smile. “Call me Veronica.”

Veronica turned to Rob. “Rob, I remember you as a teenage boy, all swagger and fun. I also remember you were always kind to me. Welcome home.” She smiled up at him, not all that far since she was tall. Rob lightly kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Veronica.” He said against her ear, “I’ve got to say you’re as beautiful as ever. I was telling Savich and Sherlock that you were a very sweet fantasy from my misspent youth.”

Veronica pulled back, laughed up at him. “I remember, too, how you liked to tease me, always telling me how hot I was, and that always made me perk right up.”

Rob nodded. “I remember how close you were to Grandmother, even back before I left a decade ago. She tells me you do everything to keep her safe except sleep next to her.”

Veronica sent a smile toward Venus. “I asked her if I could move a bed into her room but she refused. You’ve grown up well, Rob. Venus
knew you would; she never doubted you, only thought you’d gotten lost along the way, that you’d find your way back. And you did.”

Marsia turned to Savich. “Rob told me Sarah Elliott was your grandmother.” She nodded to the painting above the fireplace. “I want you to know she was a great inspiration to me. Did you inherit any of her incredible talent?”

Sherlock said, “Dillon whittles, beautiful pieces out of rosewood, maple. Some are exhibited at the Raleigh Gallery in Georgetown.”

“I should like to see them,” Marsia said. “I noticed the fine scar lines on your fingers and wondered.” She held up her own hands. Fine white scars scored her palms. “Working with metal has its dangers, as does working with a knife and wood.”

Glynis sashayed up to Rob, past the woman at his side, took his face between her hands, and kissed him, with tongue. Rob gently set her away and lightly touched his knuckles to her smooth cheek. “Good to see you again, too, Glynis.” She tried to kiss him again, but Rob was fast and took a quick step sideways, held her hands in front of him.

Marsia gave Glynis a friendly smile, said without rancor, “It’s a good thing I’ve got Rob nailed down because you’ve got quite a technique there.”

Glynis nodded, chin up. “Oh, that little thing? Rob didn’t kiss me back this time, not like he did when I was seventeen,” and Glynis gave her a smile with teeth.

Venus clapped her hands. “Let’s not forget that no one is seventeen now.” She gave Alexander a speculative look. “You’ve been unusually quiet. Are you pleased to see your brother again?”

Alexander was still at his post against the fireplace mantel, a martini in his right hand, like he’d stepped off a page of
GQ
. He recognized an unspoken order when he heard it. “I’m in favor of anything that pleases you, Grandmother.” He turned to Marsia, spoke in a smooth,
emotionless voice. “Your name is interesting, Ms. Gay. Are you hoping to change it to Rasmussen?”

“My name has quite a history, Mr. Rasmussen, as I’m sure yours does as well. It’s a distinctive history, one I will tell you about if you’re interested.” She gave him a long look. “I would like all of you to know that Rob has never traded on his name. He built his construction business on his own hard work, and on the trust he’s earned. That’s how I met him, through his business.”

Rob said, his voice easy, “I remodeled her kitchen. I did a great job because I hoped I’d be cooking Marsia dinners one day on that Wolf range I talked her into. Don’t look surprised, everyone, I like to cook. I’m good at it, too.”

“Part of your army training?” Alexander said, sneer at full bloom. “Pork ’n’ beans in the mess hall?”

Rob appeared to give this serious consideration. “No training as a cook directly, but I’ll say the army helped me grow up. By the way, add the right hot sauce and some onion to the pork ’n’ beans, and they’re not bad.”

He turned back to his family, looked at each of them in turn as he had when he’d come in. “I know this is difficult for you, here I’ve turned up out of the blue, and now we’re suddenly together, thanks to Grandmother, but I’ve got to say I’m really grateful to get to see all of you again. I’ve missed you. I hope you’ll forgive me for all my young man’s stupidities. I am sorry for them.” He looked straight at his brother. “What’s important now is that we all work together to help Savich and Sherlock find out who’s trying to kill Grandmother.”

Alexander put a bit more wattage in his sneer. “Indeed we should, little brother. The trouble is that some of us—you, for example, have a, ah, troubled past. I might add you have your fortune tied up with this family. The income from your construction business is nothing compared to Rasmussen Industries. Isn’t it true you have no access
to your trust fund while Grandmother is alive or until you’re thirty-five?”

Rob said matter-of-factly, “Yes, we all know that’s true. That has helped me to focus my life in the meantime, on what’s really important to me. Do you know what I found out? I discovered I could make it on my own. Have you ever wondered whether you could, Alexander?”

Alexander flicked a piece of lint off his beautifully tailored sleeve. “Do you doubt I could, brother? But that is not the point. Like the rest of the family I’m worried for Grandmother. Someone is trying to kill her.” He paused a moment. “And here you are, the returned prodigal, turned up out of the blue.”

Venus said, her voice cool, “Not so out of the blue, Alexander, we’ve been in touch for six months, and that’s hardly damning. Rob is not some new card in the deck, he’s my grandson, and I won’t have you casting around suspicions on anyone in this room. We’re here to have dinner, as a family. Let me add that civility, Alexander, is a major requirement to run a company the size of Rasmussen.”

Isabel appeared in the doorway, as if on cue. “Ms. Venus, the
Pied Piper
has delivered your dinner. We are ready for you in the dining room. Mr. Paul has outdone himself.” She smiled warmly.

No matter the provocation, both Savich and Sherlock doubted Venus would allow any more fireworks tonight. A pity.

26

WITTIER HOUSE, THE COLONY

MALIBU

TUESDAY EVENING

Cam marveled at her parents. They’d arranged an impromptu barbecue for as many of the detectives she’d met that day as would brave the traffic, all within a matter of hours. Some of the Calabasas sheriff’s deputies they knew as friends, and the sheriff himself, Dreyfus Murray, and his wife, Suzanne, made up the group on the back deck. Some of the neighbors they knew would remember Cam had been invited as well, to leaven the pot and cut down on complaints about all the cars clogging the street. She smiled when she heard Corrine Hill laugh at something her partner, Morley Jagger, said. She suspected they’d come out of curiosity. She saw Allard Hayes of San Dimas lean close to hear something Supervisor David Elman was saying. Whatever discomfort so mixed a group felt on arriving, it was fast gone when they were chowing down ribs and burgers with all the fixings—potato salad, baked beans, bags of chips, and Joel’s famous salsa, with enough beer to float the
Queen Mary
. And plenty of Heinz, courtesy of Cam’s earlier trip to
Ralph’s Organics
.

Cam overheard her mom telling Hill and Jagger, “You may well ask why Cam never followed in our footsteps.”

Her dad chimed in. “Nah, not Cam. For Christmas we wanted to
get her a toy Oscar, maybe a tiara, a script to read, but she wouldn’t have it. She wanted a toy gun. That fired.”

She heard Hill and Jagger laughing. Would that help give her a rep of a badass? She looked over to her mom, who had moved on to introduce Supervisor Elman to Dreyfus and eased back, watching the two men eye each other. Then Dreyfus laughed, told him to take a bite of his hamburger. “You’ll tell me you’ve died and gone to heaven. Best burgers north of Santa Monica. I’ve always envied Joel’s way with hamburgers cooked on a grill.”

Lisabeth and Suzanne both laughed. “This was a great idea, Lisabeth, you and Joel pulled it off so fast,” Suzanne said. “And would you look at Cam, she’s smiling, working the room like a pro. She learned it from you.”

Joel Wittier came up, kissed his wife’s neck. “Look at Detective Jagger hanging on to every word out of Betsy Gilman’s mouth. Who’d have thought he’s a fan? Everyone’s enjoying themselves, I’m pleased to say, and my Cammie is the recipient of all the goodwill.”

Toward ten o’clock, when everyone was well oiled, stuffed to the gills with Suzanne Murray’s homemade strawberry ice cream, and most of the neighbors had floated off to their homes, Cam walked out to stand on the wide wooden deck, resting her elbows on the railing. Daniel joined her. She said, not looking away from the bright half-moon sparkling the water like diamonds, “When I think of home, this is what I picture in my mind.” She breathed in, pointed at the gentle waves fanning like lace onto the sand. “It’s so perfect, always there, the water, so beautiful, no matter its mood. You feel at once blessed and grateful to be alive to see it.”

Daniel said, “I grew up in Truckee, California, deep in the Sierras. I always believed there was no more beautiful place in the world. This”—he waved his hand at the endless stretch of ocean—“still seems alien to me. But this does seem timeless, too, like the Sierras,
always there at your back.” He turned to face her. He saw her clearly in the moonlight—no makeup, her hair tousled from the light breeze off the water.

He leaned back, his elbows on the wooden railing. “Cam, your parents are amazing, pulling this cookout off in what? Under six hours? You did as much as you could today to get everybody thinking on the same page, as a task force. And this cookout might just seal the deal. We’ll see what happens. Oh yeah, when I thanked your folks, your mom kissed my cheek.”

“Huzzah, I say.”

“For your mom’s kiss or for the task force?”

Cam punched his arm. “Both, of course. You weenie.”

27

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

WEDNESDAY MORNING

Officer Chas Golinowski yawned, took another sip of his lukewarm coffee, checked his watch. Only five minutes had passed. It was 3:00 a.m. on the dot. He had to keep it together for another four hours until Lane Gregson relieved him. It was so quiet on this floor. He preferred the insanity of the ER, remembered the nights over the years he’d brought in people with broken bones, heart attacks, bullet wounds, you name it. He looked up and down the empty long hallway, as he did every few minutes. Nothing. He looked toward the nurses’ station twenty feet down the hall. Only two nurses were behind the desk, putting pills in those little cups when they weren’t working on the computer or answering patients’ calls. He wondered how his little girl was doing with her bad cold. He knew she was tucked in bed, her mother hovering. He wished he could be there, but he’d pulled guard duty over a guy who was about to get his butt hauled back to state prison for the rest of his miserable life. He’d heard talk about how he’d tried to kill Mrs. Venus Rasmussen herself, the stupid bozo, and that’s how he’d earned a round-the-clock crew to guard him.