We retreated to our rooms. The women went to dry their rain-soaked hair, touch up their makeup, and change clothes. Some of the men lingered in the main lounge, chatting and watching the storm’s progression. Lightning began to flash in the distance, and the thunder shook the ground beneath my feet, or so it seemed. I’ve always been afraid of storms.
At the sight of the sky, Dubois had no other choice but to call off the brunch.
I dragged Gina to my suite so we could talk in peace. We discarded our wet clothes into the bathtub and changedinto comfortable attire.
Knowing that the walls of the house were paper-thin (anyone could have been eavesdropping with their ear pressed against the door, like I had been moments before), I turned on the hairdryer.
“It’s a shame it’s raining,” Gina shouted over the noise.
She sat on the floor while I stood, hairdryer in hand, waiting for her to speak.
“So?” I asked, nudging her for more.
Gina collapsed onto the floor with a flourish, her back pressing against it with exaggerated relief, her arms splayed out above her head. “Ah! It’s perfect!” she sighed.
I raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Sorry?”
“Eloïse!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “Norman filled me in on everything about her. I know the best relationships thrive on discovering things about your partner as time passes… but I just couldn’t resist!”
“What about the inheritance? The money? The Club?”
Gina sat up, brushing off her dramatic pose. “Oh, that.”
I mirrored her with a teasing lilt. “Oh, that,” I echoed, my tone dripping with mockery.
“I told him Eloïse had mentioned something about an inheritance,” Gina said, biting her lower lip. “I hope he doesn’t tell her anything about the conversation, otherwise… I’ll look like a gold digger.”
I felt a twinge of guilt. I was making my friend probe into the personal matters of a girl she had just met. If things went awry between them, it would, in part, be my fault.
I lowered the hairdryer’s power and sat beside Gina, folding my knees beneath me. “Tell me about your conversation with Norman.”
Gina nodded, mulling it over. “He seemed to know everything. He mentioned that Eloïse isn’t happy.”
I let out a heavy sigh. Gina’s brow creased in concern.
“I’d heard something along those lines,” I murmured.
“Did Enzo tell you anything?”
I said yes and began telling her what I had overheard during my investigations in Laurent Dubois’s office. Gina’s frown deepened.
“Is that what you heard?” she asked, pursing her lips. “Hmm. Norman didn’t seem to think the problem was Eloïse taking too long to collect the inheritance, but…”
She paused and took a long breath.
“What?”
“The money is missing. Someone drained Antonia Hawtrey-Moore’s accounts just before her death. There were supposed to be fifty million pounds in there, between what she was donating and what she was leaving her family, but it’s all gone.”
“What?” I exclaimed, unable to contain my shock. Eloïse, who, according to Enzo, had gone to great lengths to ensure her mother’s inheritance was hers, wasn’t upset about the delay in receiving it… She was upset because there was no inheritance to receive!
“Do you think Antonia might have falsified her accounts?” Gina asked, after considering the situation. “Maybe she was declaring less than she really had. I don’t think ten million for Eloïse is enough.”
“Rich people wanting to get richer. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“If someone knew…”
“They might have stolen the money and then killed Antonia,” Ianswered.
