LITMIR.BIZ

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calls since she’d arrived in Montebello.

      As for her possessing a motive to have Desmond killed, Joe had not discovered one. Fear, Ryan dismissed. Revenge or jealousy were possibilities. Greed was a contender, too, but Joe assured him that Nina Caruso had a substantial trust fund and a very healthy investment portfolio.

      There was an insurance policy her father had taken out on Desmond when he was a child. The premiums on it were paid through a trust which, now that the original capital was no longer needed, would also become Nina’s. But was that enough to prompt her to arrange a murder when she was already fairly well off?

      Ryan’s gut told him no. At least, he hoped that was his gut and not another part of his anatomy.

      When he called her around seven o’clock to make dinner arrangements, he received no answer. Jet lag must have finally caught up with her, he supposed. Just as well, Ryan thought, totally denying the spark of disappointment he felt that he wouldn’t see her again until morning.

      Maybe he should stop in and check on her. She could have experienced a delayed reaction to all that had happened, he told himself. She might be all alone and crying herself sick right now. Suddenly he found himself hurrying to get there and see if that was so.

      Nina wasted little time planning the rest of her day after Ryan McDonough left her alone. It was like pulling teeth to get him to let her do anything with regard to Desmond’s murder, and she needed to get on with it. She had a few weeks’ vacation built up, but her job at home wouldn’t wait forever.

      She mapped out what she would do as she prepared her lunch and ate it. Rest was necessary. Ryan had been right about that, so she would take an hour or so in preparation for tonight. Later, she would call a cab, return to the palace and see what she could learn about the last days of Desmond’s life. After that, she meant to go over the scene of the crime with a fine-tooth comb.

      Forensics should be finished with their official duties there by now. They’d had all day yesterday and today. Nina seriously doubted she would find anything significant that professionals had overlooked, but she needed to get back into that guesthouse all the same.

      If nothing else, seeing how Desmond had lived, getting a feeling for his lifestyle here and walking the rooms he had inhabited might give her some clue as to the man he had become since they had last seen each other.

      If Ryan McDonough objected when he found out she’d been there, too bad. At least he’d know she wasn’t going to be satisfied with little pats on the head in lieu of his accepting her help. She might not be a qualified investigator, but at least her dedicated involvement might speed things up a little.

      When she’d finished eating and cleared the dishes, Nina went into the bedroom, kicked off her shoes, lay down on the puffy slate-blue comforter and closed her eyes.

      She liked the accommodations arranged for her well enough. Efficiency over elegance, more practical than pretty. It suited her. Nina liked to think of herself in just those terms. She wondered whether Ryan McDonough’s place next-door suited him. She fell asleep trying to decide what sort of decor would.

      She awoke at seven-thirty, disgruntled when she realized she’d slept most of the day. Hurriedly she showered, then chose a lightweight navy jacket and skirt with a matching silk shell. She found her lowest-heeled pumps—dressy, but still great for walking.

      What she was wearing looked businesslike, she thought, like something an investigator should wear. It wouldn’t quite do for dinner at the palace, of course, but she wouldn’t presume to impose on the royal family anyway. If she could manage to avoid them, they wouldn’t even realize she was there. This evening, she’d stick to speaking with employees who might have served Desmond in some capacity. Surely there would be footmen or maids around somewhere to give her some names and locations of people who had served at the guesthouse. She would simply explain what she needed and tell them she was working with Ryan.

      And then she would see inside his home. She nodded with self-satisfaction, recalling how stealthily she had checked the French doors at the back of the place and noticed that someone had left them unlocked. Didn’t leaving the crime scene vulnerable that way indicate McDonough was not taking his job seriously enough?

      She couldn’t figure the man out. She’d only known him for a day and during that short span, he’d exuded charm and exhibited annoyance, very nearly simultaneously. He’d declared his dedication to the job and talked a good game, but had done remarkably little in the way of investigating, as far as she could tell.

      He had offered her compassion when they’d gone to see Desmond’s body, but had broken out in a sweat himself. He hadn’t even asked the doctor many pertinent questions.

      She picked up a hint of humor occasionally, yet he certainly could be brusque.

      What a mass of contradictions the man was. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know him any better than she already did. He made her nervous, and she wasn’t certain why.

      But leaving the back entrance to the victim’s guesthouse open was definitely careless on the part of the investigator in charge of the murder case. If he gave her any grief when he found out what she had done tonight, she’d be quick to point that out to him.

      The best defense was a good offense, and that was a fact.

      Nina called a cab. When the doorbell chimed a few minutes later, she grabbed her purse and headed for the door, remarking to herself how prompt the taxi service was here.

      She probably should have rented a car on her arrival, but she hadn’t had time to go online and see if there were any peculiar driving rules in Montebello. Or if an international license would be required to drive here. Besides, she absolutely hated driving unfamiliar vehicles. With her luck, she’d have to accept one without an automatic transmission and with the steering wheel on the wrong side. Montebello wasn’t that large. Wherever she couldn’t walk, she’d take a cab.

      When she opened the door, her heart sank. “McDonough!”

      He smiled, his eyes focused on her shoulder bag. “Going somewhere?”

      “Uh, out to eat.” Nina couldn’t meet his eyes. He seemed to divine her every thought, and she was no good at lying. Would he guess what she was planning?

      “I’ll join you,” he said.

      Ryan had no clue where she’d been planning to go. If he’d been using his brain at the time, he would have pretended not to notice she was holding that purse and how she was dressed when she answered the door. He would have asked how she was doing, wished her good-night, then waited out of sight and followed her. But she could be telling the truth about going out to eat, in which case, he was only doing the hospitable thing, escorting her to a nice restaurant and buying her evening meal.

      He knew he was bending too far backward, giving her too much benefit of the doubt because he didn’t want her to be involved in this murder. And to be honest, he really didn’t believe she was. Given how attracted he was to her, however, Ryan wasn’t sure he could trust his instincts right now.

      “We’ll go somewhere close by,” he said, determined to give her the chance later to do whatever she intended. And he would follow. It was his job, after all. “It would be best if we make an early evening of it so you can rest.”

      “Yes, that would be good,” she agreed, still not looking directly at him. Guilt was written all over her.

      Either she was up to no good or his presence made her uncomfortable. She sure as hell had that effect on him.

      “I’m expecting a cab,” she told him.

      He smiled cordially. “We’ll wait for it then.” His own car was less than thirty feet away, but she didn’t know what he drove and he wanted to keep it that way, at least for tonight.

      It was no chore to keep up a running patter about the local sights she should see while she was in Montebello. She didn’t seem to be paying much attention anyway, preoccupied as she was.

      “Ah,

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