Everyone but Hildi stayed frozen in place. “Mother!” Hildi pulled Venus to her, patting her back, stroking her hair, cooing like a dove in her ear.

Sherlock watched every face react to Venus’s breakdown. She saw consternation on Guthrie’s face, a bit of contempt on Alexander’s, and Glynis’s face was a study in embarrassment. Veronica had already jumped to her feet but stopped when she saw Venus pressed against Hildi. She sank back into her chair, her expression angry and worried.

Savich and Sherlock waited, watching Hildi fuss, watching Isabel silently press a fresh cup of tea into Venus’s hand. Was it all a performance?

Venus took the cup of tea and slowly raised her head. Sherlock saw her eyes were bright with the sheen of tears. Then the weeping old lady became the boardroom queen again. Venus said, “I apologize for that. Now, listen. We have to face the facts as they are, children. Someone who lives or works in this house is very likely responsible for trying to kill me, someone close enough and clever enough to poison me. Whoever that is, whether they are in this room or not, I want them to know I will not let this family be destroyed.

“I do recognize that I’m old. But you know what? I do not want to depart this earth until I’m good and ready.” She looked at each of them in turn. “Every one of you has enough money for two lifetimes. If one of you is in trouble and you see your inheritance as your only way out, you need to come to me now, and we will work it out. I will forgive you, and I promise I will do my best to fix your problems. Please, come to me before Agent Savich shows up at your door.” Venus turned her laser-beam gaze onto Alexander. “And if any of you think you’re smarter than Dillon and Sherlock, you are dead wrong.”

Savich turned to Venus. “Have you told the family about finding Rob?”

Savich heard a quick intake of breath from Guthrie, who stared at his mother, stunned. “What? You tracked down Rob, Mother? Is he all right? Where is he?”

Venus gave Savich a long look and slowly nodded. “Of course he’s all right, Guthrie, and if you had cared, you could easily have found your son yourself. He’s been living in Peterborough, Maryland, for the past three years. He owns a construction company that, I might add, is running in the black this year. And he has a girlfriend. Her name is Marsia Gay, and believe it or not, she’s an artist, and very successful. Evidently Marsia worships your grandmother’s work, Dillon, which predisposes me to like her.

“As for finding him, I simply googled his name, but before I could contact him, Rob emailed me, wonderful coincidence. We met for lunch at Primavera in Chevy Chase, neutral ground.”

“How long has this been going on?” Alexander asked, his voice strained.

“About three months. Alexander, your brother is thirty-one, he’s matured, and, I might add, he is stable and has his life together. He told me how much he’s missed all of us. He’d like to see everyone again.”

Alexander said, both his face and his voice expressionless, “Don’t you think it’s more than possible that Rob is the one trying to poison you, Grandmother? Unlike any of us, he’s actually come into contact with low-life criminals like this Willig.”

Venus arched a perfect eyebrow. “Then your brother would have to be a magician, would he not? He’d have to have slipped into two different restaurants unnoticed, and then the third time, into this house, and somehow put arsenic into my food or drink.

“Yes, I can see from your faces that you’re wondering why I wanted to contact Rob. That’s easy enough—he’s my grandson and I’m getting older, and I wanted to see what sort of man he’d become. Then his email arrived and I decided fate had taken a hand.”

Alexander shrugged. “Like fate would care about my worthless brother. I’ll bet old Rob leaped at the chance to ingratiate himself to you, didn’t he, Grandmother? He always was bad news, you know that, all of us do. People like that don’t change. Have you forgotten what he did? He should have gone to jail. I hope you won’t encourage him further. I, for one, have no interest in seeing him again. You shouldn’t either, Father.” Guthrie stared down at his Italian loafers. “He’s a criminal and a loser.” Alexander shot a look at Savich. “And he should be your top-running suspect.”

Venus’s voice was like a soothing oil. “I knew you’d hardly approve, Alexander. But as I said, Rob has made quite a transformation. You’ll be surprised.”

“I’ve actually heard of his girlfriend,” Hildi said. “Marsia Gay. She works in metals, very modern sculptures, mostly human figures. She’s considered something of a wunderkind, being so young.”

Venus said, “I haven’t met her yet, but it seems it’s serious. And I haven’t had a granddaughter-in-law since you and Belinda divorced, Alexander.” She smiled over at Hildi. “It might be nice to have another artist in the family.”

Hildi beamed back at her. “I always liked Rob. Such a vibrant boy, so full of promise. Such a shame what happened.”

Glynis said, “I can’t wait to see Rob again. Do you know he kissed me once? We were seventeen, I remember, and even though I didn’t want to, I had to tell him to cut it out, we were first cousins, and kissing was against the law, or something. I know better now. Imagine, Rob’s not in jail or dead. That’s wonderful.”

“You can tell Rob that yourself, Glynis,” Venus said. “I’ve just decided to invite him and his girlfriend to dinner tomorrow night. I expect all of you to be here and to welcome him home.”

There was steel in her voice again. Savich had no doubt every single Rasmussen would be front and present. As for welcoming Rob home—who knew?

12

* * *

LOST HILLS SHERIFF’S STATION

CALABASAS, CALIFORNIA

TUESDAY MORNING

Sheriff Dreyfus Murray had been notified by Special Agent Richard—Duke—Morgan, Criminal Division Unit chief, that one of Morgan’s people was coming from Washington to assist in the Serial case. Assist them, now that was a joke. A Fed was coming to take over the case, more like. He hadn’t been told a name. He spotted her the second she walked through the door. He could tell from twenty feet away that she was a looker, tall and fit, striding like she owned the world, and looking like she could outrun him when he’d been twenty. She was wearing dark blue pants, a tucked-in white shirt, a red blazer to cover her Glock, and black banged-up boots with a high shine.