Chapter Seventy-Six

Russo?

Dead?

I climb out of bed and follow the maid outside. My heart is in my throat. There's got to be some kind of confusion. How is he dead? I spoke to him a few hours ago and he was fine. Is it possible that there is a misunderstanding?

She turns to face me, as if hearing my thoughts. "I found him in his office. Oh, miss. It's a gruesome sight!"

"Have you called the police?" I ask.

"Yes, they're on the way."

I wish she would elaborate. What does she mean by the gruesome? "What happened? Are you sure he's dead?"

"There's blood everywhere," she says, quickening her steps as we near his office. "He's been murdered!"

I hold her back before she opens the door. "You can't go in! If it's a crime scene, none of us can venture inside. We're going to have to wait out here for the police to arrive. And an ambulance." I'm surprised by how calm and nonchalant I appear from the outside. Inside, I'm a knot of nerves and panic, and her confession has only made matters worse. Murdered? How