Sordid? Given her current state of mind, Zoë wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this. “What did?”
“He had this swish restaurant in the west end of London and a TV series. He planned a chain of restaurants on the back of that. Then he was involved in a scandal that hit the press. A young woman died in his home under suspicious circumstances.” Gina emphasized suspicious, and then rushed on. “The woman’s death was eventually written off as suicide, and Cain moved away from London shortly after, shutting down th
e restaurant and scrapping the business plan. The newspaper reports, however, said that the young woman had been dabbling in black magic. There were weird symbols on the floor around the place they found her, and…dead birds.”
There it was again. Magic. Black magic, no less.
Zoë’s fingers latched over her seat belt, pulling it free of her chest.
“She was only nineteen. She’d been thrown out by her parents the month before because of her interest in the occult,” Gina continued, “and they suggested that Cain had something to do with it, like it sounded as if maybe he was into the occult, too.”
On top of everything that had gone on—the weird things she had been experiencing and Grayson’s suggestions about ghosts in the house and other such nonsensical stuff—Zoë didn’t feel able to give a balanced response. She held back a moment, determined not to let hearsay and spooky nonsense get the better of her good judgment—harder though that seemed to be with each passing moment. She forced a dismissive laugh. “Oh, come on, you know what the papers are like.”
“Well, yeah, but there might be some truth in it, and it all sounds dodgy. Did you meet him?”
Zoë could hear the morbid curiosity in Gina’s voice. Gina was more like their mother than she was, less grounded, more into the dramatic stuff. Gina was the one who followed celebrity scandals and speculated on philosophical subjects, whereas she preferred to be practical.
“I did meet him, yes, and he’s not what you’d call an average bloke, for sure, but I’m not about to let the tabloid press color my perception. Never have, never will.” She rolled her eyes and rested her head back against the car seat, loosening her grip on the seat belt.
“Yes, I thought you’d say that. So, what’s he like?”
“A charmer, I suppose that’s what you’d call him. Suave, handsome. He greeted all the restaurant customers personally, but I didn’t talk to him for long.” She tried not to think about the weird stuff that had taken place on the terrace. It was hard not to, after what Gina had just said.
“I wonder where he went, in between times,” Gina responded. “Mom watched his TV show, did you know that?”
Silence ensued, and Zoë had to force herself to break it. “No, I didn’t.”
Gina kept trying to do this, kept trying to make their mother’s death seem normal. How could it ever be normal?
Gina sighed. “Talking about it will help, you know that. You’re still keeping it all inside.”
“You don’t half pick your times to give me a pep talk. I’m out for a drive in the beautiful countryside, trying to chill.” She glanced out of the window, noticing how the hill rose and rolled away into the horizon beyond the hedge she’d parked beside. “I’m on my way to Dundee and you want to lecture me on dealing with grief, again.”
She shook her head. The irony was that their mother would have loved all this nonsense about witchcraft and houses being possessed by mischievous spirits. Despite everything, despite all the strange stuff that was going on and her current confusion, it made her smile.
“I’m just trying to encourage you to open up a bit more.”
You wouldn’t be saying that, if you’d seen me with Grayson on the stairs last night. “Gina, believe me, I’m opening up like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Gina said, sounding unconvinced. “Just promise me you’ll avoid that Cain Davot.”
“Don’t worry. He’s not the only man here.”
She’d said it as a cover-up, but Gina pounced. “Oh, so there is a man. What’s his name?”
She sighed. “His name is Grayson Murdoch.” She hadn’t meant to mention Grayson, but he was on her mind. They’d parted on bad terms and she was beginning to regret that. However, if it got Gina to lighten up and stop worrying, it would be worth it.
“Mr. Grayson Murdoch, eh?”
“Professor Murdoch. He’s doing research in the area.”
“Professor, how lovely. You know, a professor sounds much more your cup of tea than a restaurateur with a dodgy reputation and a police investigation in his near past.”
The memory of Cain touching her made Zoë’s skin crawl. “Gina, it’s not obligatory to consider every man I meet as possible boyfriend material.” Zoë couldn’t help wondering how long it would be before Gina would be doing an Internet search on Grayson to find out all about him. Still, that was no bad thing. She’d be back on the phone if she found out he had any skeletons in the cupboard. The irony made her give a wry laugh.
“Well, you sound happy, so I’m happy. Promise you’ll call if you need anything.”
“Deal.” After she put the phone away, she stared out at the hedgerow. It was still there, that hankering need to turn back to Carbrey, that tugging sensation inside. It was hypnotic, as if she were under some sort of…spell. As soon as the thought occurred to her, she shivered and pushed it away.