All the World (13 page)

              “You are just as guilty as Donna and the MacDougals, Mr. Garland,” Bella hissed softly. She spun back around with a hole puncher in one hand and stapler clutched in the other. “You plotted against me too! You want Vernon Hills for yourself!”

              Cesare’s hazel eyes were impassive as he regarded the irate woman. “I didn’t know you three years ago. How could I have plotted against you in the last election if we had never met? You’re rage is misplaced.”

              Those were the wrong words. Bella’s face was so contorted with fury that she looked like a rabid animal. She flung the hole puncher at Cesare, missing him by mere inches. Then she threw the stapler which managed to make contact with Cesare’s calf. The man hopped back and rubbed his leg.

              “Get a hold of yourself!” Cesare commanded sharply as Bella’s hands scrambled on the desk in search of other objects to use as weapons. “Let’s call the police and sort everything out.”

              “No!” Bella screeched, chucking a box of pens.

              The box opened as it flew through the air. Lexie hid her face in her knees as pens rained down on her like sleet. She flinched as several smacked her neck. They clattered to the floor and rolled away. Lexie carefully lifted her head and watched Cesare kick a pen, sending it out the door. Bella now had a tape dispenser in her hand and was storming forward.

             
She’s so pissed off that she doesn’t care who she hurts! I have to get out of here!

              A flood of dizziness hit Lexie as she used the wall to stand up. She curled her hands into fists so tightly that she could feel her fingernails digging into her palms. Lexie leaned forward for balance, and pain shot through her fingers as her knuckles absorbed all the weight.

              The ripping of fabric caused Lexie to turn around. She saw Bella tearing the pocket off Cesare’s shirt with one hand.

              “Let go of my shirt!”

              Bella threw the piece of fabric and swung the tape dispenser. Cesare caught her wrist and snatched the heavy object out of her hand. However, Bella was not deterred. She reached up and grabbed Cesare’s neck with both hands. Bella’s fingers tightened so swiftly that Lexie could see Cesare’s face turn pale.

              “I just wanted to be mayor and help the people of Vernon Hills! Is that such a terrible sin?” Bella shouted as she pulled Cesare’s head down so he was forced to look into her eyes. Lexie was certain she heard a pop come from his neck or back.

              “Let go of me, you crazy woman!” There was no panic in Cesare’s voice, just anger.

              “No!”

              Cesare adjusted his grasp on the tape dispenser and swung his arm up.

              “What are you doing? Stop!” screamed Lexie.

              The tape dispenser made a sickening crunching sound when it crashed into the side of Bella’s head. Cesare released his hold on Bella and the tape dispenser, and both fell to the ground with loud thumps. The sight of the blood splattered on the floor and over Cesare’s arm caused Lexie to scream. She let out a loud, long wail and buried her fingers in her hair.

             
Okay, I’ve had enough! This is too much! Make this stop!

              The office was silent as Lexie and Cesare stared at each other. Lexie was shocked at what had just happened. Cesare wasn’t a good person, but Lexie never dreamed he would commit murder. Yet, a dead woman was on the floor beside him.

Lexie couldn’t read his face. The color was coming back into his cheeks and his eyes were calm, devoid of any distinct emotion. Slowly, almost cautiously, Cesare walked over and stood in front of Lexie. His close proximity made her feel tiny and frail.

              Gathering what little courage she had left, Lexie looked up and held Cesare’s gaze. Her voice cracked and splintered as she whispered, “Are you going to kill me too?”

              He shook his head, and Lexie felt some of the panic leave her chest. Cesare stepped back, giving Lexie room to collect herself.
Maybe he’ll call the police. Maybe I’ll get taken back to the hospital.

             
“No, I’m not going to kill you,” Cesare answered. He clasped and unclasped his hands several times, and the sound of skin on skin made Lexie nauseous. She looked away and focused on a coat rack.

              Suddenly, Cesare’s palm collided with Lexie’s face, leaving her jaw stinging. She turned and glared at Cesare. He grabbed her shoulders and slammed her harder against the wall. “I don’t want to kill you, but I want to know that I gave you some of those bruises on your face. They’ll turn purple soon, the color of victory robes.”

“What? Victory robes?” Lexie asked sharply. She pushed at his shoulders. “Are you trying to mark your territory or something? I don’t care how many bruises you give me! I’m not yours!”

Cesare lifted one hand from her shoulder and ran his fingers along her throat. Then he curved his hand around the side of her neck, his thumb pressing against Lexie’s windpipe. Lexie felt his grip tighten, and she tilted her head upward in an attempt to remove Cesare’s fingers. However, he merely shifted his hand so Lexie’s throat was caught between his thumb and forefinger.

              “Cesare, stop! Please stop! You said you weren’t going to kill me! Let go!” Lexie choked out, shocked at her current predicament. Her voice was so strangled that her fear was reflected in the grip of her fingers rather than the volume of her pleas.

              “I can’t breathe!” Lexie gasped, and she jammed the heels of her hands into Cesare’s shoulders. “Please don’t do this, Cesare! You’re hurting me!”

              The pits of Cesare’s eyes were smudged with darkness. “I know. I want you to know what I can do to people who betray me! Garland Corporation belongs to me! I won’t let you sell my secrets to my father!”

              “I don’t care about the company!” Lexie’s voice grew softer and softer, each word punctured by a squeaky gasp. 

              Cesare leaned forward, his mouth close to Lexie’s ear. “Then why did you interrupt this meeting? Were you going to feed information to my dad?”

              “Why did you visit Flora?” asked Lexie, her voice barely audible.

              The tall man’s grip loosened. “Why would I visit her? She has nothing to offer me.”

              Lexie breathed in deeply, relishing the oxygen filling her lungs. “I saw the flowers and card you sent in her hospital room! Quit playing games!”

              “I would never give gifts to someone so beneath me! Everyone is beneath me, even my father! God is my judge, not Dad and certainly not you!” Cesare bellowed in Lexie’s face before spinning away from her.

              Lexie felt a jolt in her stomach.
He’s cursed too! But how? He doesn’t live in Vernon Hills. Should I even bother asking about the key?

              “Cesare, did you find an old key in the Stratford Theatre?”

              “The theatre was destroyed. Why would I want a key to a demolished building? My dad asked that same, stupid question.”

             
Does Guillaume Garland have something to do with this? Is he the real villain?

              Footsteps caught Lexie’s attention. She turned around to see a young woman dressed in black slacks and a blue blouse standing at the door. Lexie recognized her as Cesare’s secretary.

“I got your text and made all the proper arrangements,” the woman said.

              “Very good, Emily,” Cesare replied, his voice calm and businesslike. “What is the exact story I will give the police?”

              Emily glanced briefly at Lexie before turning back to her boss. “You were at the meeting when James MacDougal suddenly admitted that he killed the former mayor. His grief manifested itself so violently that he attacked and killed everyone. James was overcome with horror and fainted. You are only alive because he passed out before he could reach you. Alexandra Stanley was never here and knows nothing.”

              “Do you really expect me to back up your story?” Lexie demanded. “I
saw
you murder a woman! You tried to kill me!”

              Cesare gave Lexie one of his trademark smirks. “I think you will, considering the alternative stories will land you in prison or a psychiatric ward. I could always say you murdered everyone because we tore down the theatre. Who would the police support? A businessman striving to improve the community or a little woman distraught over the ruin of a theatre?”

              “I forgot that blackmail is one of your talents,” Lexie grumbled.
How can he be so cunning when he’s cursed? The police will believe him over me. He probably has our conversation at his office recorded. But how can I let him get away with this? How can I allow him to let another man take the blame for Bella’s murder?”

             
“I also could implicate your friends by saying you guys planned this massacre after the riot in the theatre parking lot. Now, I bet the tabloids would have a field day with that story!” Cesare laughed and grabbed Lexie’s hip, his fingers catching in the belt loop of her jeans.

              “Get away from me!”

              Cesare tugged her forward, kissed her cheek, and studied her face. “When I let go, you need to leave the building. I want you to walk down the hall and out the front door without saying a single word. Go be with your friends and stay out of my way.”

Chapter Twelve: Hidden in Plain Sight

              The tiles of the bathroom floor in the Windsor Bar were large and black with flecks of grey. Lexie imagined they had been chosen for the simple fact that they could easily hide dirt and grime. She choked back a sob as images from the massacre in town hall flashed through her head. She remembered blood drying on the beige floor, staining it the color of rust. The memory of Donna Leer leaning against a desk with the letter opener sticking out of her chest caused Lexie to tighten her grip on the toilet and vomit a second time.

              No matter how hard she tried, no matter how desperately she prayed, Lexie knew she would never forget what she had seen less than an hour ago. Sister turning on sister over their father’s legacy and brutal murders over politics were things that only happened in movies and books. Lexie never imagined she would witness such savagery in real life.

             
People shouldn’t do shit like this!
Lexie closed and opened her eyes several times before her stomach squirmed and bile rose in her throat.
How can the curse turn people into animals? Is it really that powerful? Everything is going to hell because of a tiny, old object.

              She leaned forward and continued to retch until nothing was left in her stomach. Lexie took a shaky breath and started to stand, but another wave of nausea forced her back to her knees. Lexie convulsed as brutal dry heaves tore through her body. She heard her voice echo around the bathroom, but she couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying.

Lexie pulled herself off the bathroom floor with shaking arms. Puking in a toilet would do nothing to help her friends. She also wasn’t sure what Cesare would really say to the police. Everything and everyone was disposable to him. If he pinned the riot at the theatre and the murders in town hall on herself and her friends, there would be no one to stop the curse. The story would be an easy way for Cesare to keep blood off his hands.

             
Why didn’t he kill me?
Lexie wondered as she left the bathroom.
He left a witness alive. If he had killed me, he could say that he wasn’t even at town hall. Cesare could probably buy Mayor MacDougal’s silence. The mayor also has a lot to lose.

              Cesare was cursed and his motives were very unclear. He had seemed so above the Leer and MacDougal dispute, so why had he injected himself into it? Why add fuel to the flames? Wasn’t he busy having his own battle with his dad?

              Lexie froze in the middle of the bar. Suddenly, she remembered an offhanded comment made by Cesare about Guillaume Garland.

             
“Why would I want a key to a demolished building? My dad asked the same, stupid question.”

              She chewed at her bottom lip. From that statement, it seemed like Cesare wasn’t the one who knew about Shakespeare’s key and curse. Even if he had, Cesare would have dismissed it as nonsense. He had torn down the Stratford Theatre purely for business purposes. Cesare’s ignorance about the legend wasn’t that much of a surprise now that she thought about it. Unlike his father, Cesare had little, if any, interest in theatre.

              Then Lexie remembered the tabloids she had seen in the lobby at work. Mr. Garland and Cesare apparently had a falling out over the destruction of the theatre. Mr. Garland had been furious that his son had made a company decision without him. When Lexie had first heard the rumor, she had assumed that the fight was all about money and power. Those seemed like the only things that mattered to the Garlands.

              The fight now seemed to have a deeper meaning, at least on Guillaume’s side. Was it possible that he knew all about the key? Perhaps the argument between father and son had started about money. Then Cesare tore down the Stratford Theatre and caused a riot in Vernon Hills. The response of the townspeople had caught Mr. Garland’s attention, and he probably wondered what was so special about that building. Due to his love of theatre, the elder Garland most likely knew the legend of Shakespeare’s keys. He had access to detailed databases, and it was very possible that he had discovered that a descendant of William Shakespeare resided in Vernon Hills.

             
Well, at least I have something to tell Pierre.

              Lexie walked through the bar, resisting the temptation to order a shot of tequila. She had work to do that required her to be sober. There would be time for a celebratory drink after the mess in Vernon Hills was over.

              The sun was finally out, rising over the town like a copper penny. It was muggy outside with steam rising from the road. Lexie hoped that the sun was a sign that good things were about to happen. Despite the vast improvement of the weather, very few people were wandering up and down Avon Road. Vernon Hills looked more like a ghost town than a place cursed by Shakespeare.

              Guillaume Garland would not be an easy man to reach. He was a very busy and talented businessman who had gained the respect of many powerful people. He rarely spent time with his family, and Lexie had only met him a handful of times. She didn’t have any of his contact information and doubted he would respond to her even if she did. Cesare had said his dad was in England, so calling his office would get her nowhere.

             
I have to stop the curse!

              Lexie needed to find the key. Her initial skepticism about Pierre’s tale had dried up after she had witnessed all the death and chaos in Vernon Hills. The thought of Flora suffering the same tragic fate as
Hamlet’s
Ophelia sent chills through Lexie’s body. Even though Flora was in the hospital, Pierre had said she was still in danger. She could still somehow drown. It seemed impossible to kill oneself in a hospital psychiatric ward, but Pierre had been adamant.

              However, the ending of one of Shakespeare’s most famous tragedies had been altered in Vernon Hills. Theodore Rose and Giulia Terrace, the modern versions of Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet, had lived through the curse and escaped Vernon Hills. Their lives had not gone untouched by death, but the two lovers had a happy ending.

              As Lexie reflected on Theodore and Giulia, she realized that the only reason the teenagers had not committed suicide like the famous star-crossed lovers was because of her intervention. She had convinced Theodore that Giulia was still alive before the funeral.

              Lexie sighed. Proving that someone wasn’t dead was much easier than reasoning with a manic, revenge-driven man. To keep Flora alive, Lexie needed to convince Nickolas that he was wrong about his uncle murdering his dad. He hadn’t wanted to listen the last time Lexie suggested he was mistaken about his father’s death. In fact, the only thing that had consoled his frantic mind was a picture of Flora, and the picture still hadn’t convinced him that his uncle was not a murderer.

             
But it could be true that Dr. Lindegaard killed his brother.
A small voice whispered in her mind.
He planned a car crash in an attempt to kill Nickolas. What if he did murder his brother? Claudius really did kill Hamlet’s father.

              Lexie’s plans changed. Instead of trying to prove Dr. Lindegaard’s innocence, she was going to attempt to convince Nickolas to let the police handle his uncle.

              She was walking by the post office when a sleek, silver car pulled up beside her. Lexie crossed her arms and backed away from the road. The tinted window opened to reveal Nickolas and Braedon. Despite the feverish gleam in his eyes, Nickolas looked exhausted. The dark bags under his eyes were more pronounced than they had been only a few hours ago. His hair was tousled and sweat speckled his forehead. Braedon, on the other hand, appeared calm. Lexie studied his face for a moment and caught a glimpse of worry in his warm eyes.

              “What…how did you get out of the hospital? Aren’t you supposed to be in the psych ward?”

              “Get in the car,” Nickolas ordered firmly, “and then we can explain everything to you.”

              Lexie shifted her gaze to Braedon. He tilted his head toward the back seat. Reassured that Braedon was the one driving, Lexie opened the door and slid into the car. The seats were leather and cool to the touch. She noticed pamphlets about Belvedere’s Car Rentals tucked neatly in the side of the door.

              “Okay. What happened at the hospital?”

              “Pierre did some quick thinking. It’s like he knew this was going to happen,” Braedon began. “He came over to Audrey and Phillip before they could check Nickolas into the hospital. Pierre convinced them to let Nickolas go visit Flora. He told them that seeing the woman he loved might give him some clarity before being admitted. He slipped a key and note into my hand as we were going to see Flora. The note told us where the rental car was parked.”

              Nickolas swallowed so hard that Lexie could hear the saliva go down his throat. His voice was shaky when he spoke, “Flora was asleep when I saw her, so I gave her a kiss and we left through an exit on the far side of the hospital. We found the car and drove back here.”

             
Nice job, Pierre!
Lexie felt relief and hope in her chest.

              “Where are you taking me?”

              “We’re going to my place,” answered Braedon.

              “It’ll be safe there,” Nickolas added.

              Lexie raised her eyebrows. “You and Braedon were just together at the hospital. Won’t your parents—”

              “Phillip Lindegaard is
not
one of my parents!”

              Lexie held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry! I mean, won’t your mom and uncle think you are going to your house or Braedon’s?”

              Nickolas laughed sharply. “No. They think I’m crazy. Why would I do something so rational, so obvious, and so sane?”

              “Because Braedon is here to keep you grounded.”

              Nickolas looked at Braedon and patted his friend affectionately on the shoulder. This small act made Lexie ache for Flora. She wished she had someone close to help her deal with everything that was happening. Lexie was convinced that if Flora were sane she would know exactly how to handle the cursed Nickolas. The effect her picture had on her boyfriend was proof that she had an influence over him.

              “You’re such a good friend, Braedon,” Nickolas whispered. “You’ve never been a slave to passion.”

              Braedon smiled. “You’re a great friend as well.”

             
They have quite the bromance going on!

             
Braedon lived in an upscale neighborhood called Vintage Heights. It was filled with brick townhouses and streets lined by old oak trees. The newly paved roads were rimmed by cobblestone sidewalks. Mailboxes were grouped together at the end of each street. Braedon turned onto Twining Lane, drove halfway down the road, and parked the car.

              “Do you think my dad knew Uncle Phillip wanted him dead?” Nickolas sputtered suddenly. “I don’t remember ever seeing them fight. Something must have happened that Dad kept hidden from me and Mom.”

              “Let’s discuss this inside. People might hear you,” cautioned Braedon.

              The three friends were silent as they made their way to the townhouse. Nickolas hurried ahead without glancing back at Lexie. Braedon was enough of a gentleman to wait and walk with her. Lexie offered him a small smile as he unlocked the front door.

              “If a murder did take place, the police should be the ones dealing with it,” Lexie told the two men before Nickolas could say another word. “Dr. Lindegaard has to admit that he killed his brother to the police. It won’t matter if he tells you because he can just deny it later.”

              Nickolas began pacing. “I know that! I need more proof! Right now the police will support Uncle Phillip because everyone believes me to be crazy. He’s a psychologist, so he can officially diagnose me with some mental disorder. The police are useless to me!”

              Nickolas wandered to the living room with Braedon and Lexie following him. He sat down in an overstuffed armchair and gazed vacantly at the wooden floor. Lexie remained standing by a bookshelf until Braedon gestured to the couch.

              “Maybe I can bug his office and bedroom,” whispered Nickolas. His eyes shifted to Braedon. “Do you think my mom knows anything?”

              Lexie cleared her throat. “You pretty much assaulted your mother. She looked very confused to me. Anyway, why would she marry her husband’s murderer?”

              “They were having an affair for years,” Nickolas replied bluntly. “Frailty, thy name is woman.”

              Lexie rolled her eyes at his last remark. “I think murder would put an end to a love affair.”

              “Maybe it would…” Braedon murmured uncertainly.

              Nickolas’s eyes snapped to Braedon.

              “Or maybe it wouldn’t,” Braedon added hastily.

              Lexie looked at Braedon when he spoke. He tapped his fingers together as he looked between his two companions, his square jaw tight with uncertainty. Lexie wondered if he would believe the town was cursed. Was it possible that help had been sitting right in front of her since she had slid into the rental car?