Heron's Cove (12 page)

“I’m sorry I missed you earlier.”

“It was good to have a chance to settle in. I went up to the yacht club for a few things. Oh, Dmitri. My stateroom is fabulous. I’m so happy to be here with you.”

“We’re happy to have you.” His expression softened. “I’m sorry about your mother.”

“Thank you. That’s decent of you to say.” Natalie took Colin’s arm again, as if she were looking for an excuse to change the subject. “Forgive me, I almost forgot. Dmitri, this is Colin Donovan. He and Emma are friends. Colin, Dmitri Rusakov. Emma, I don’t know if you remember me. We met in London a few years ago.”

“Of course I remember you, Natalie,” Emma said, aware of Ivan still at her side. “Welcome to Heron’s Cove.”

“I know my visit is a surprise. I understand your brother isn’t here. I’d love to meet him, and your grandfather, too, but maybe you can help me. Well, there’s time for all that. First things first, as we say.” She smiled, no sign of awkwardness as she surveyed the elegant lounge with its understated, neutral decor. “It’s very cool here compared to Phoenix. We’re still sweltering at home.”

“You came straight here?” Emma asked, noticing that Ivan had yet to say a word.

“I was among the cacti this morning.” Natalie laughed in obvious delight when a crew member handed her a cosmopolitan. “Oh, Dmitri. How sweet. You remembered.”

He gave a slight bow. “Of course.”

She held up the drink to Emma and Colin. “I was into cosmopolitans when I last saw Dmitri. I was in London for a few days with my mother. She was—well, being my mother.” Her eyes shone with sudden tears as she sipped her drink and smiled through them. “Dmitri, you gave up your London apartment, didn’t you?”

“I was never there after I bought the
Nightingale,
” he said.

“I wouldn’t be, either. I could live on the
Nightingale
even if it stayed anchored right here and never went anywhere. It’s elegant without being stuffy or intimidating. Thank you for having me.”

Dmitri kissed her on the cheek. “Anytime, my dear. You know that.”

“I do. I’ve always known. It was just easier not to stay in touch when my mother was alive.” Natalie shook her head, swallowed more of her drink. “Let’s not talk about her, although she’s the reason I’m in Heron’s Cove, really.”

Dmitri nodded toward a small, gleaming brass elevator. “Why don’t you show Emma what you brought with you?”

Natalie looked tentative. “Are you sure? I just got here—”

“It’ll ease your mind. Please. I’ve released Emma from any client privilege. She can tell you what she knows.” He motioned toward the circular bar with his champagne glass. “Ivan and I will have a drink with Colin here. Colin, what would you like? Beer, vodka, whiskey? You don’t look as if you drink champagne or cosmopolitans.”

“Beer would be fine,” Colin said.

Dmitri grinned, clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Excellent.”

They went to the bar, crafted of dark wood and edged in chrome, with swivel chairs covered in neutral-colored leather. Ivan glanced at Emma, then Natalie. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said, then joined Colin and Dmitri at the bar.

Natalie seemed a bit nonplussed as she sighed at Emma. “You don’t mind?” she asked quietly.

Emma smiled. “Not at all.”

“Dmitri can be hard to refuse. It amazes me sometimes that he and my mother ever got together, never mind lasted two years. He sees through everything and everyone, but he didn’t see through her. At least not at first.” Natalie waved a hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to go down that road. This’ll only take a few minutes. If you’re sure—”

“I’m sure.”

Natalie smiled, looking less tentative. “Then let’s go.”

* * *

They took the elevator down one deck, and Emma followed Natalie into a guest stateroom. Its built-in queen-size bed, nightstands and dressers had the feel of free-standing furniture, and the decorative pillows, linens and upholstery were in more soothing neutrals. A lush painting of white roses hung on the wall opposite the windows. The shades were pulled, the recessed lighting on a dim setting.

“I don’t live like this, in case you were wondering,” Natalie said. “I actually don’t know that I’d want to. Would you, Emma?”

“It’s not something I think about.”

“An FBI agent’s salary—but you must do the work because you love it. I do retail marketing for upscale boutique shops near where I live. I can’t say that I love it, but I’m good at it.” She kicked off her open-toed heels and stood barefoot on the cream-colored carpet. “That feels better, I think. The
Nightingale
was Dmitri’s gift to himself after getting my mother out of his life. I can’t blame him. He was so misled by her. It had to sting once he figured her out. You met her, Emma. She was charming, wasn’t she? You don’t have to answer. I know she was. Narcissists are often very charming at first.”

Emma glanced around the elegant guest stateroom. Natalie had, indeed, unpacked, even setting up her toiletries in the en suite bathroom. The door was open, cosmetics neatly lined up on the sink, a dark pink bathrobe hanging from a hook on the door.

With a stifled yawn, Natalie walked between the bed and the closet. “My mother was a master at charming people when it suited her. If she thought someone could be of use to her, she’d pull out all the stops. That’s how she lured Dmitri into her little web.”

“I gather you and your mother didn’t get along,” Emma said.

“It’s not a question of getting along. I’ve had lots of therapy. I’ve learned to accept her. Dmitri is one of the few people who cut her out of his life instead of the other way around. My mother was very tactical in her relationships. Once someone was no longer of use to her, that was it. They were gone. She’d make up or exaggerate an offense and snip, snip. Out went that friend, lover, husband.”

Emma sat on a soft, built-in couch along a paneled wall. “We don’t have to talk about your mother, Natalie. I know this must be difficult for you.”

“Not as difficult as you might think. As I said, years of therapy have helped. Trust me, this apple fell far, far from her mother’s tree.” Natalie took a quick, shallow breath, as if controlling her emotions. “I’m not like her. I’ve made a point of not being like her, but I now realize I didn’t have to. I’m just not wired the same way she was, for whatever reason.”

From what she had seen of Renee Warren Rusakov herself, and learned about her during her work on the disappearance of the Rusakov collection, Emma could understand Natalie’s complex feelings about her mother.

“What can I do for you, Natalie?” Emma asked.

“I probably should have called but I was so determined to be discreet. Now here I am, on the biggest damn boat in Heron’s Cove. You should see all the people coming out of the woodwork to check it out.” Natalie paused, yanked open one of the closet’s double doors. “My mother’s estate was a mess, as you can imagine. She was so young, and she was in denial about how sick she was. Although I suspect if she’d lived to a hundred she’d still have left things in a mess.”

“Sometimes people can’t face their own mortality,” Emma said.

“I didn’t expect to inherit anything of value from her. She burned through money. I was surprised when I discovered she owned some rather gorgeous pieces of Russian jewelry and fancy knickknacks.”

Emma leaned back against velvety cream-colored throw pillows. “You brought them with you?”

Natalie lifted a large black case out of the closet and plopped it onto the bed. “I did indeed.” She waved a hand. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. I haven’t told anyone except Dmitri and now you. Well, and Ivan, of course. To tell Dmitri is to tell Ivan. But can you imagine anyone trying to steal anything with him around?”

“I thought he and Dmitri were just friends these days.”

“Ivan owes Dmitri his start. He’ll always have his back.” Natalie unlatched the case and opened the top. “He checked in with me after my mother’s death. That was decent of him. She never liked him. I think she was jealous of his friendship with Dmitri. They go way back. Dmitri sent flowers for her funeral. My mother at the end of their marriage—well, you know. You were in London then.”

“For a few days only, Natalie,” Emma said. “I wouldn’t presume to judge your mother or her relationship with Dmitri or anyone else.”

“I appreciate that. I really do, but I’ve found that I do best when I don’t pretend my mother was a nice, sweet, gentle soul. She wasn’t. She was mean.” Natalie rubbed her fingertips across the soft black velvety interior of the case. “I did hope at first that maybe Dmitri could change her. He’s such a forceful personality, as well as incredibly wealthy—not that I cared about that, but my mother did. He and I got along well. I was already in my twenties when they met. I had my own life. I never wanted anything from him. He doesn’t have children. I think for a while I was like the daughter he never had.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

Natalie shook her head. “Just me. I suppose my father might have other kids but I don’t have any contact with him. He was one of my mother’s flings. She threw him away before I was even born. I’m sorry if I sound harsh, but it’s easier if I face the truth. I’m happier as a result.” She withdrew a deep purple velvet bag from the case. “I don’t hate her, though. I never have.”

Emma remained on the couch as Natalie gently removed a brooch from the velvet bag—a delicate, intricate red flower edged in gold, its petals gleaming with tiny rubies.

She held the brooch up to the dim light. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? Does it look familiar to you?”

It did, Emma thought. She remembered photographs of a flower brooch, one of the most interesting works in the Rusakov collection. She rose and took a closer look at the brooch and its perfect red flower. “There’s a folktale called ‘The Crimson Flower,’” she said. “Do you know it?”

Natalie frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“A father is getting ready to leave for a trip and asks his three daughters what they’d like him to bring home for them. One daughter wants a gold crown, one wants a crystal mirror and one wants—”

“A crimson flower,” Natalie finished with a smile. “How cool.”

“The father finds one on the property of a beast.”

“Ah. Of course. And this beast turns into a handsome prince?”

“Eventually. The daughter is forced to live with the beast, but he allows her to go home to visit her father, who is sick. She promises to return by a certain time. Her sisters trick her and she doesn’t keep her promise and returns to the beast late.”

“Oh, dear. He died?”

Emma nodded. “She’s overcome with grief and falls on his body, finally realizing that she loves him. Her genuine love breaks the spell that turned him into a beast. He comes to life as the handsome prince he really is.”

“And they live happily ever after,” Natalie said with a satisfied sigh, then returned the brooch to the velvet bag. “I’d rather fall in love without tricks and evil spells, wouldn’t you?”

“Most definitely,” Emma said with a laugh.

“It might take a little magic, though,” Natalie added lightly. “All the pieces in the collection have some kind of Russian folk or fairy-tale theme. There are two pendants, the brooch, a bracelet, a ring, a decorative hand mirror, a cigarette case—you get the idea. Do they sound familiar?”

“Natalie…”

“They’re from Dmitri, aren’t they?”

“I think you should talk to him,” Emma said.

“He said you could tell me.”

“I know he did, but I’d prefer you two sort this out yourselves. Your mother never said anything to you about this collection?”

“No. Nothing. She didn’t want me to have anything to do with Dmitri after the divorce. I could have told her to go to blazes, but I didn’t. I respected her wishes.” Natalie sank onto the edge of the bed. “Emma, he gave this collection to my mother, didn’t he?”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yes, of course. What else? My mother was a lot of things but she wasn’t a thief.” Natalie snapped the case shut. “I just want to know if Dmitri gave my mother some or all of these pieces, or if someone else did, or if she bought them herself. Provenance won’t be an issue, right? I own the collection. I inherited it.”

“I suggest you talk to Dmitri about those details.”

Natalie slipped back into her heels. “My mother manipulated and used people but I swear to you she wasn’t a thief. I don’t want to keep what’s not mine, but things were so bad between Dmitri and my mother at the end, who knows what happened. What he agreed to in the heat of the moment and regretted later. What she got out of him in exchange for keeping her mouth shut after they split.”

“Do you have plans for the collection?” Emma asked.

“Sell it. Give it away. I don’t know. Can you at least tell me where these pieces came from? I mean, what they are—when they were made, who crafted them?”

Emma debated a moment before answering. “The crimson flower brooch looks like it could be Russian Art Nouveau. If it’s genuine, it was probably crafted in the late nineteenth-century. Beyond that…”

“I know, I know. Talk to Dmitri.” Natalie gave a small, sad laugh. “He’s sweet in his own way, but he can be quite ruthless. I can’t imagine that he’d just let this collection go without a fight if he didn’t mean for my mother to have it. Can you?”

“It doesn’t matter what either of us can or can’t imagine.”

Natalie fingered a silver latch on the case. “I wish I’d been brave enough to stand up to my mother and stay in touch with Dmitri in spite of her, but he knows what she was like.” She jumped up and returned the case to the closet, shutting the door firmly. “Were you in London four years ago because of this collection? Did Dmitri hire Sharpe Fine Art Recovery because it disappeared?”

“Dmitri was a client, yes—”

“Did he tell you my mother took the collection?”

“My grandfather always conducts an independent investigation. He doesn’t take anyone’s word for anything.”

“Maybe the collection was part of the divorce. The spoils of war. My mother had a passion for Russian art. She and Dmitri actually met at the Tretyakov Gallery. She loved Russia.” Natalie smiled, visibly less tense. “I preferred Dmitri’s apartment in London to that mansion he refurbished in Moscow.”