Liar's Key (20 page)

“The Yorks were never into art collecting. Most of what I own in London and at the farm is rubbish. Pretty paintings of dogs and foxes and such that are primarily of sentimental value with little if any monetary value. The frames are generally worth more than the art itself. You'll have to come back to the farm, Fin. Bring Mary. We have plenty of room.”

“Thank you for the invitation. It's good of you to think of us.”

He grinned. “But you're never bringing your sister for a visit, right? It's okay. I've no one to blame but myself for the reluctance of friends to visit. I've made my own bed, as they say.”

Finian felt a cool breeze and got to his feet. “It's been a long day for you.”

“Yes, it has,” Oliver said quietly. “Good night, Father Bracken.”

No cheeky
Father Fin
this time. “Was this visit soul work or were you hoping I'd give you information?”

“It was an impromptu visit with a friend. The visits to Bracken Distillers by the retired FBI agent and Claudia Deverell likely have no direct connection with your family in Ireland, or with Mary's visit here. At least as far as I can see.” He paused. “Thought you'd want to know.”

“Are they of interest to the FBI or UK authorities—or to Irish authorities for that matter?”

“You're the one with friends in those places,” Oliver said.

“Good night, Oliver. Welcome back to Maine.”

18

Still with no food in the house, Emma and Colin decided on a late breakfast at Hurley's. They'd discussed going to his parents' inn for breakfast but opted to let them do their thing. Oliver would be jet-lagged and hungry, and he'd been looking forward to a real Maine inn breakfast. Emma left it to Colin whether to walk or drive to the harbor, since it was his first day home, but she wasn't surprised when he chose to walk on the bright, clear, crisp May morning.

When they arrived on the harbor, Frank Donovan texted his second-born son that his English guest was showing off photos of his puppy over wild blueberry muffins. “He's ingratiating himself,” Colin muttered. He looked as if he wanted to about-face and go on to the inn after all, but he shook his head. “Let's stick to our plan. I like dogs, but I'm good with not being subjected to Oliver's puppy photos.”

“Where do you suppose he got the name Alfred for the pup?”

“Batman,” Colin said without hesitation. “Oliver went on one day about superheroes and mythology.”

Emma glanced at him. “Sorry I missed that one.”

He grinned. “I'm sure you are.”

Andy Donovan, dark-haired, blue-eyed and rugged like his three brothers, was on his way out of the restaurant as they started to a table in back. He and Colin greeted each other, Andy quickly filling in his older brother on his upcoming departure for Ireland. He'd spend a week with Julianne, then fly home with her in plenty of time for Colin's June wedding. “Franny's in Ireland now,” Andy added with a grimace, referring to Julianne's grandmother. “She'll be heading home as I arrive.”

“I thought she wanted you to escort her to Ireland since it's her first overseas trip,” Colin said.

“Julianne talked her out of it.” Andy shuddered. “I still get hives thinking about being on a plane with Franny Maroney for six or seven hours. When she landed, she handed Julianne a list of all the sights she wanted to see. I think they've done them all. Julianne says she'll be ready to hang out in a quiet cottage for a week before she comes home. Works for me.”

“I'll bet it does,” Colin said with a grin.

Andy went on his way, and Emma sat across from Colin at a small table by the windows overlooking the harbor. “Is your life starting to feel more normal?” she asked him.

“Starting. Normal is having Oliver in England.”

And Gordy Wheelock back in North Carolina, Emma added silently.

“But let's enjoy our breakfast,” Colin said. “I don't know if I trust your brother to serve real food at the open house. I'm going for a full all-American breakfast and throwing in one of Hurley's doughnuts for good measure.”

Emma had a simple cheese omelet. Halfway through breakfast, the Scotland Yard detective called. He'd checked the autopsy report on Alessandro Pearson. “There was a substantial bruise in the middle of his back. It was attributed to the fall, but we're taking a closer look at the forty-eight hours before his death. His death didn't raise a single alarm here.”

“Understood. Thanks for letting me know.”

“You'll do the same with your findings,” he said, not making it a question.

After breakfast, on their walk back up to Colin's house, Emma got another call, this one from Sam Padgett. “Good day for an open house,” Sam said. “Weather-wise, anyway. I don't know about anything else. You aren't in Heron's Cove yet, are you?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I'm not interrupting. I'm on my way to Gordy's hotel again. BPD doesn't have anything on assaults within a couple of blocks before midnight on Wednesday. I went out there last night to have a look for myself, maybe find a potential witness—someone who routinely hangs out around there or walks that way. No luck. I located a couple of possible spots for the steps where he could have tripped. I don't know what good that'll do, but I'll take a look again now that it's daylight.”

“Maybe Gordy did trip on his shoelaces,” Emma said.

“You don't believe that.”

“No, I don't.” She told him about Gordy's text. “I texted him back. So far no response.”

“He didn't say whether he's leaving before or after the open house. Let me know if you need me to check into whale watches. When I considered joining HIT, first thing I thought of was, hey, I'll be in New England, I can go whale watching.”

“You'd love it,” Emma said, biting back a smile.

“No doubt.” He was clearly not at all serious. “By the way, Yank told me to tell you he's not coming up there today for the party. I think it's something to do with his wife's knitting shop, but I'm not asking. Could be he doesn't want to run into Wheelock or get in the middle of this thing—whatever it is. All I got. Later, Emma.”

She disconnected and slid her phone into her jacket pocket. Back at the house, she showered and changed into a dark navy jacket and pants, a crisp white shirt and her pistol, in a hip holster, concealed. Colin, too, dressed professionally in a charcoal-gray suit and tie. They weren't attending the Sharpe Fine Art Recovery open house as regular guests or, certainly, as hosts. Emma was convinced her brother and grandfather would not only understand her and Colin's approach to the day, but also expect it.

They drove to Heron's Cove in Colin's beat-up Maine truck, a small but important step, Emma knew, in his return to normalcy. Sam Padgett hadn't been kidding about the weather. The open house couldn't have landed on a better Saturday in May given the warm, sunny conditions. Emma was pleased especially for her brother, who was greeting guests at the front door when she and Colin arrived.

Lucas grinned as they headed up the front walk. “Well, don't you two look like a pair of FBI agents,” he said.

Emma laughed. “Imagine that.”

“Welcome home, Colin. Help yourselves to food. We've hired a great local caterer. A few guests are here but it's still early.”

“What about Gordy Wheelock?” Colin asked.

Lucas shook his head. “He's not here yet.”

“But you still expect him?” Emma asked. “He didn't bow out at the last minute?”

“As far as I know he'll be here today. I haven't seen him but Granddad ran into him out on the docks the other night. He said Agent Wheelock looked like hell but blamed jet lag and overindulging during his first year in retirement. Listen, thanks for coming, both of you. We don't expect a big crowd but we'll have a good time. We won't run out of food, that's for sure.”

No question about the food, Emma saw right away when she and Colin entered the house. Servers were carrying trays from the kitchen loaded with a variety of temptations, including mini lobster tacos, crab cakes, lettuce wraps, cheese, fruit and a variety of cookies.

Emma took the opportunity to text Gordy:
We're at the open house. See you soon?

No immediate response. She also called but got his voice mail and left a brief message.

Colin glanced around the refurbished front room. “Last time I was in here, it was unfurnished. Looks good. Lucas is a forward thinker. He won't want Gordy dragging him into the past. Yank said Gordy looked off when he saw him on Thursday.”

Emma nodded. “He wasn't himself but not alarmingly so.”

“Do you think he could have gotten a bad health diagnosis?”

“A bad diagnosis and then he flies to London, Ireland and Boston and then drives up here?”

A server approached them with a tray of mini crab cakes. Colin helped himself to one but Emma was still full from their late breakfast. “Maybe it was a psychiatric diagnosis,” he said as the server retreated. “Would the Gordy Wheelock you knew come all the way up here for a party and then not at least stop in for a few hors d'oeuvres? Even if he realized he'd been a fool over these rumors about stolen mosaics, would he just go home?”

“Not the Gordy Wheelock I know.”

Lucas took a break from his post by the front door and joined them, snatching a couple of crab cakes. “Mingle, you two. Mingle. You're scaring people from coming in here.”

“I doubt that,” Emma said. “Colin and I haven't seen each other in a while. Has Oliver York arrived?”

“He's upstairs. Granddad's giving him the grand tour.”

Lucas excused himself to greet more guests. Emma started toward the stairs in the entry, but Henry and Adrian Deverell and Isabel Greene entered the front room, drinks in hand as they greeted Emma. She introduced Colin. “The Rock Point Donovans,” Henry said. “Yes, we used to buy lobsters from your family.”

“I think your dad ticketed me once for speeding,” Adrian added cheerfully. “But I don't go way back in this area the way my stepmother's family does.”

“Claudia sends her regards,” Isabel said. “She's swamped with a mile-long to-do list up at the house.”

“It's cathartic for her to go through her mother's things,” Henry said. “There's a timing to it, I think. One day you just know you're ready to tackle the job and you have to dive in before the moment passes. I know it was that way for me when my mother passed away. That was over a decade ago, and not a day goes by that I don't think of her. Now it's that way with Victoria. We all miss her terribly.”

“Victoria left Claudia the house and the Norwood antiquities collection,” Isabel said. “They're an enormous responsibility as well as a constant reminder of the mother she lost too soon, but it was the right thing for Victoria to do. Still, it's been difficult and isolating for Claudia emotionally. I don't think she'd mind my saying so.”

“It's no secret she and her mother were close,” Henry said.

Isabel nodded in sympathy. “I still can't believe she's gone. Sorry if we're being morose. It's our first trip back here since Victoria's death.” She turned to Colin. “I hope you're not lost, Special Agent Donovan. I was Victoria's friend and became Claudia's friend.”

Adrian polished off his drink. “It'll be interesting to see if Claudia discovers anything new and interesting in the house. Victoria loved to squirrel things away but she generally kept careful records. I'm the worst at record-keeping. But just what Claudia needs, one more old urn or coin.” He leaned toward Emma with a grin. “Don't tell anyone I said that.”

“Anyone who gives a damn is right here and heard you,” Isabel said.

He winked. “Subtlety isn't my long suit. As far as I'm concerned, an ancient mosaic might as well be Home Depot bathroom tile.”

Isabel swatted him on the arm. “You're the worst, Adrian. I suppose you say the same about my mosaics?”

“We could call your work bespoke bathroom tile. How's that?”

His father looked amused. “As you can see, Emma, my son doesn't have the same appreciation for ancient art and artifacts that Claudia does. The two couldn't be more different.”

“Claudia also appreciates my mosaic art,” Isabel said, clearly not offended by Adrian's remarks. “This rat Adrian does, too, but he loves to tease. Have you ever seen an ancient mosaic floor in its archaeological context, Emma?”

“I have,” she said, aware of Colin's stillness next to her. “I had the good fortune to visit a dig in Tunisia that uncovered the intricate mosaic floor of a classical Roman villa. It was fantastic. The design depicted the flora and fauna of the region.”

“Mosaics really do provide us with a visual story of life in the ancient world,” Isabel said. She gestured with her glass as Oliver came down the stairs. “Mr. York here could tell us about the myths and legends depicted on mosaics, couldn't you?”

“Some, no doubt,” he said.

A server arrived with a tray of drinks, and Adrian exchanged his empty glass for a glass of champagne. “One of my interior designers in Atlanta insists that staging a condo with a few well-chosen antiquities helps it sell faster and at a higher price. It's best to use real antiquities but she says good fakes will do the trick.”

“Are you serious?” Isabel asked.

“Totally serious. Most people have no idea about any of the controversies and protocols involved with the antiquity trade. There are bragging rights to having a bust of Apollo or a Spartan coin on your living room shelf.”

“There's endless fascination with the ancient world,” Henry said, his tone neutral. “You must deal with illegal antiquities in your work, Emma. It's far too easy for unscrupulous dealers to fake provenance. Victoria was as careful as possible, and her father and grandfather before her. But I wouldn't be surprised if we discover a fake or two in such a vast collection.”

Oliver pointed down the hall toward the kitchen. “I thought I saw a bald eagle from an upstairs window. It was flying above the river. I was excited. Then Wendell Sharpe spoiled the fun and told me it was an ordinary seagull.”

Isabel burst into laughter. “That must have entertained Wendell no end.”

“I think he's still chuckling,” Oliver said. “I do want to see a bald eagle while I'm here.”

Emma had no doubt Oliver hadn't thought he'd spotted a bald eagle. He'd simply wanted to change the subject. But Henry and Adrian spotted someone else they knew and moved on, and Isabel chased a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

Oliver made a face. “Here I am alone with you two. Have you seen the Bracken siblings? They were on the back porch when I went upstairs. Mary's having the time of her life. Fin is keeping a close eye on her. You people do have a knack for trouble.”

“I'm not convinced you aren't stirring up a little trouble of your own,” Colin said. “You have a knack for it, too, along with drama and manipulation.”

“I'm a—”

“You're a simple mythologist, yes, I know.” Colin pointed at the ceiling. “Want to show me the upstairs? We can collect Wendell.”

“After you,” Oliver said.

Emma didn't follow them upstairs. Instead she rejoined Isabel and grabbed a glass of sparkling cider from a tray. “Not me,” Isabel said. “I want alcohol in my drinks since I don't have to worry about driving. If I stumble into the river or the ocean, someone will pluck me out before I drown. The great weather is drawing people out. Cabin fever must be brutal here in the winter. But it's a great party, Emma. Thanks for having me.”