Lie With Me / Destiny's Hand: Lie With Me. Lori Wilde

will help the police identify him,” Roman said.

      I tucked it into my pocket.

      Roman studied the water. “How much time has passed since you first saw the body?”

      I’d completely lost track of time since I’d realized I was being shot at, so I glanced at my watch, then considered briefly. It was nearly one-thirty and my driver dropped me off at noon. “A half hour to forty-five minutes.”

      “So the body couldn’t have been carried off by the tide.”

      “No.”

      Turning, Roman met my eyes directly. I could read nothing in his expression, I had no way of telling whether he believed me or not. Even with the cell phone, I wasn’t sure I would have believed myself.

      Finally, he said, “The killer must have come back and cleaned up after himself.”

      Relief streamed through me. Then I glanced around. “Maybe not entirely.” I rose and walked over to the spot where I’d seen the sand spurt up near the white cat. The image was indelibly imprinted on my mind. The sand was damp now. Squatting, I began to dig with my fingers. On the fifth scoop I found the bullet and held it up for Roman to see. “He missed this.”

      Roman’s eyes narrowed as he strode toward me. “How did you know that was there?”

      “He shot at the cat, too. One of them ricocheted off the rock. Then I saw the sand spurt up.”

      Roman glanced up at the Castello, then grabbed my free hand and urged me toward the trees at the foot of the hill. Once we were in their shelter, he told me to sit down and then he sat down beside me. “Start at the beginning, Philly. And tell me everything.”

      4

      BY THE TIME we finally reached the Villa Prospero, my initial adrenaline rush at finding the body had faded, and I was beginning to react to the reality of the situation. Telling Roman what had happened had brought all the details vividly to my mind. Since we hadn’t talked on the climb back up to the villa, I’d had time to dwell on them.

      A man was dead. And someone had disposed of his body. A bone-deep chill moved through me, and I shivered.

      Roman turned to me immediately and took my arm. “Are you all right?”

      I nodded. “Just a bit of a delayed reaction, I think.”

      “You’re going to have to repeat the whole thing to the police.”

      “I can do that.” I squared my shoulders in reaction to the concern I heard in his voice. “I’m a big girl, Roman.”

      Miranda was at the registration desk and she looked up with a polite smile when we walked into the lobby. I noted again the combination of neatness and elegance in her appearance.

      I knew from Aunt Cass and my father that Miranda was only in her early forties, but she looked even younger. She’d married early to Sandro Kostas, a man her parents had chosen for her so that she would have help running the hotel after they passed away. Kostas had left her a widow three years ago. Before his death, she’d spent most of her time seeing to the cuisine and keeping the books. Sandro had played the host. But it seemed to me as though Miranda was doing well as a hostess—she looked far more assured than she’d been earlier when Mr. Magellan had confronted her.

      “Philly?” Her face brightened as she moved toward me and took both of my hands in hers. “Spiro’s daughter. You’re even prettier than your pictures. Welcome, welcome. It’s such a pleasure to have you here. I’m so sorry I didn’t greet you properly when you arrived. Demetria should have told me.”

      “Don’t blame her—I told her not to. I wanted to walk on the beach and I ran into a white cat. Did she come back here?”

      As she shook her head, a faint frown appeared on Miranda’s forehead. “That might have been Ariel. But I haven’t seen her at all today. She may have gone to look for my son, Alexi.”

      Miranda turned to Roman then. “Demetria told me that you know my cousin Philly?”

      Roman smiled at her. “I know her very well. I’m her brother Kit Angelis.” He held out a hand, and Miranda grasped it warmly, her face a mixture of surprise and delight.

      I simply stood there and stared at him. Later, I would tell myself that my mental state had been approaching shock. That had to have been why I said nothing.

      “Welcome! I was only expecting Philly. This is such a wonderful surprise—to have two of Spiro’s children visit.”

      I’m sure my mouth was hanging open, but neither of them was paying me any heed. I felt as if I were watching a play.

      Roman squeezed Miranda’s hands. “You must forgive me for not calling ahead. But my plans changed at the last minute, and I wanted to surprise my sister. My father and Helena so enjoyed their visit here and I can see why.” He paused to glance around the room. “You have a lovely place.”

      I wanted to surprise my sister? Never in my life had I knowingly watched anyone lie so smoothly.

      Miranda said something in reply, but I missed it because Roman chose that moment to meet my eyes. There was a challenge in his—almost as if he was daring me to expose his lie. I told myself I had to say something, to put a stop to his little masquerade before it went any further, but my lips just wouldn’t form the words.

      He shifted his gaze back to Miranda. “And you’re not to worry. Demetria has already told me that you’re completely booked, but I can bunk in with Philly. All I need is a cot.”

      “Of course you’ll stay here,” Miranda said. “And you won’t need a cot. The sofa in the suite converts to a bed. As soon as my son returns, I’ll have him make it up. In the meantime, you must go out to the terrace. I’ll bring you coffee and pastries. We’re through serving lunch, but I can have Demetria fix some sandwiches.”

      I finally had my mouth open to say something when Roman preempted me. “Before we sit down, we have to contact the police.”

      Miranda turned back at that, surprise and worry in her eyes. “The police?”

      “Philly found a dead body on the beach.”

      “A dead body?”

      Fear flashed into her eyes, and I sensed she might be worried about Alexi. “A man—medium height and stocky. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat—like the ones you sell in your gift shop—and he was carrying a backpack and binoculars.”

      “Does he sound familiar?” Roman asked.

      Miranda frowned thoughtfully, then shook her head.“There are so many visitors on the island right now because of the party at the Castello Corli the day after tomorrow. Andre Magellan throws these parties at least twice a year. His guests number in the hundreds. He can accommodate most of them at the Castello—it’s reputed to have close to one hundred guest rooms—but we take the overflow here.” She shifted her gaze to Roman. “How did the man die?”

      “We believe he was shot by someone up on the cliff near the Castello,” Roman explained. “Philly was on her way back here when she ran into me. By the time we returned to the beach, the body was gone.”

      “Gone?”

      “The killer may not have wanted it found,” Roman explained.

      “When I first spotted the man, there was someone with him—a younger man he seemed to be arguing with,” I said. “He was about the same height with dark curly hair. My guess is that he’s still in his teens, and he was wearing some kind of medal around his neck.”

      Miranda shook her head, but I didn’t miss the slight stiffening of her body. My description had made her think of someone, I was sure of it.

      “That was where I first saw the white cat,” I said. “She led me to the body.”

      “Ariel,”