“Good morning,” he murmured, holding her gaze, “as you can see the power’s back on.”
Her gaze snapped back up to meet his. She sucked in a sharp breath. Oh, dear! It wasn’t a dream. He’d actually witnessed her gawping at him. She pulled her eyes away, focused on her morning coffee mission, and fled down the stairs without a word.
The image of his lithe body clearly visible in her mind, she stumbled into the kitchen and plopped a pod into the coffeemaker, grateful that she didn’t have to build a fire right now to heat the percolator. She gazed down the hallway toward the stairs, and was a tad disappointed when he appeared at the bottom fully clothed in a sweater and blue jeans.
His hand brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes. “I’d say good morning, sunshine, but by the look of those dark circles under your eyes . . .” He was not deterred by her low, guttural growl. “You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be. I was going to surprise you with breakfast.”
“Coffee?” Her voice cracked. She shoved a mug and a coffee pod at him, forcing him to occupy his hand elsewhere. After last night, she wasn’t going to let her guard down again and become the focus of one of his boyish taunts. “Fool me once,” she muttered.
“Is everything okay?” He studied her.
“Yup.” She stirred cream into her cup.
“Okay, if you say so.” He shrugged and dropped the pod into the machine.
She studied his broad back. A quiver raced through her. He turned, their eyes locked. She exhaled loudly, barely aware she’d been holding her breath. He removed his cup from the coffeemaker and sat down on a counter stool, never taking his eyes off hers.
He raised his mug to his lips and took a long, slow sip. “Anything you want to talk about?”
She shook her head.
His eyes remained fixed on her over the rim of his cup.
She clenched her fist and took a deep breath. “Okay, there is one thing. Last night . . . I felt something stir inside me that I haven’t felt in a long time.” His brows rose, but she plunged on. “I thought you felt something, too, but then you turned it into a joke just like you always do. I don’t know what to think anymore. One moment you act like there’s something more than friendship between us, and the next you’re teasing me like you would if I was the little girl next door.”
He came to her side. She exhaled when he laced his fingers through hers. “Sit down, Addie.” He eased her gently onto the kitchen stool. His hand left hers and stroked her cheek. “I do feel it, and there’s nothing I want, desire more than to take you into my arms and kiss you like neither of us has been kissed before.”
Butterflies exploded in her chest. “But why, then?”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Because you’re still chasing ghosts.” He held on to her when she attempted to stand. To run. To escape. “Not only David’s, that’s understandable, but I also see you still trying to recapture what you and Marc once had.” He placed his warm hands on her cheeks when she shook her head. “Yes, I’ve seen the way he looks at you and you at him. I know that memory still haunts you.”
Tears burned in her eyes. “But . . .”
“No buts.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Until you’ve exorcized that particular ghost, as much as I don’t want to, I’m willing to wait. Because like I’ve said before, I think Marc, and what you felt for him, is a rebound after David. So, until you decide if that’s true or not, we’ll just have to stay friends. It makes things less complicated if it ends badly for us.” His lips weakly turned up at the corners.
“Isn’t this cozy,” snarled Serena, plugging in the kettle, “I hope I’m not intruding.”
Addie jerked. “Not at all.” She wriggled from his grasp.
“I hope you slept well, Serena.” Simon walked to the sink and rinsed his coffee cup. “I was just going to start breakfast. I hope you’re hungry.”
She ignored Addie and smiled innocently at Simon. “Truthfully, I’m starving. We missed dinner last night.” She gave Addie a sideways glower.
“Serena, I’m sorry. I crossed a line when I brought Catherine’s name into it, and I know that hurt you.” Addie touched her shoulder.
Serena shrugged off her hand.
“I really am sorry. We were just brainstorming, and I got carried away.”
Serena dropped a tea bag into a cup. “I guess I’d feel better about that if you had also written your name up there since you are the only one who does have hard evidence against them.”
“You’re right.” She looked back at Serena. “I’ll put my name up, too. It’s only fair if we’re just throwing ideas out.” Serena gave Addie a tight-lipped smile. “After all, if we look hard enough, maybe we can see that I was actually set up to be a suspect, or even possibly that the lipstick on the cup was planted to lead the whole investigation on a wild-goose chase.”
“Interesting theory.” Simon tapped his fingers on the counter. “Yes, we hadn’t thought of that, but . . . well, who knows what the three of us can come up with if we work as a team.”
“Yes, much like three pairs of hands making breakfast.” Addie grinned at Serena and retrieved a frying pan from the cupboard.
* * *
Addie had only just bitten into her toasted scrambled egg sandwich when a loud rumble rattled the windows. She choked on her mouthful. Simon patted her back and offered her a glass of orange juice. “Thanks,” she sputtered. “I’m fine, but what on earth is that noise?”
“I’ll go see.” Serena dashed down the hallway to the living room. “We’re being rescued,” she called.
Addie and Simon joined her and peered out the window.
Simon grinned. “It’s Carolyn and Pete with his dad’s snowblower.”
“She must want her truck back,” Addie laughed.
Carolyn waved at the three grinning faces in the window and stumbled through the snowdrifts to the door. Addie flung the door open and hugged her, dragging her into the foyer. “You’re a lifesaver. I was afraid the three of us were trapped here together for eternity.”
“I know one person who wouldn’t mind that.” She slid a sly look at Simon.
Simon coughed loudly, his face red.
Addie, sensing the tension, broke the silence. “Can I make you and Pete some coffee?” She glanced out the door sidelight window at the tiny snowstorm Pete created with the snowblower.
“No, thank you. We have a huge Thermos in Pete’s truck.”
“Do you need your truck back today?” Simon asked over Addie’s shoulder.
“No, we’re just clearing a few friends’ and families’ driveways until I’m back on shift at three. I was worried that you might get called into the hospital sometime today. I know they were hopping last night. So were we. It was crazy out there.”
“I can imagine.” Addie shivered at the thought of having to work in the storm. “I don’t ever remember seeing this much snow in my life, and it’s darn right freezing out there. I don’t know how you haven’t turned blue yet.”
“I’m tough stuff,” Carolyn laughed, flexing her arm.
Simon leaned his hand against the doorframe. “Just so we’re clear. You don’t need your truck? I don’t want any surprises.”
“No, keep it. Pete’s truck is just as good on these roads. We’re fine, and he can drop me off at the station later.”
“Thanks.” Simon drummed his fingers on the door casing.
“Yeah, anytime. You’d think my older, wiser brother would know that a fancy-dancy sports car doesn’t cut it in these winter storms.”
Simon flicked the ball of fur at the top of his sister’s woolen hat. “Just remember that ‘wiser’ part later.”
“I see you guys have electricity, but so you’re aware if you do head out today, the power’s still out in town center, well, in most of the harbor, actually.” Carolyn glanced through the window at the snowblower when it backfired. “That thing really is as old as the hills. I hope it gets through all the snow we’re planning on feed
ing it.”
“If the power’s still out, I guess we definitely won’t be opening our stores.” Serena pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’d better text Elli since I forgot to give her a heads-up last night.” She walked back into the living room.
“Who’s Elli?” Carolyn asked.
“Her part-time assistant, I think.” Addie shrugged.
“Elli Hollingsworth?”
“Maybe? Do you know her?” Addie stifled a laugh when the snowblower seemed to let loose a belch.
“Only through dealings with her mother, Maggie. She’s the real-estate agent we bought our house through.”
“Right, I know her, too. She’s in my book club.”
“As far as I know Elli is, or at least was, a handful. You’d better warn Serena to keep her on a short leash, as her mother says.”
“I will, thanks.” Addie looked into the living room at Serena busily sending a text.
Hearing another mechanical belch, Carolyn sighed. “I’d better go help Pete. He’ll be cursing my disappearance by now.” Her cell phone rang. She removed her glove and fished around in the pocket of her parka. Holding up a finger, she walked toward the kitchen, leaving Simon and Addie in the foyer. Simon shrugged his shoulders and mouthed “crazy morning, huh?” Addie grinned. When had one of her mornings not been crazy?
Carolyn reappeared. “It seems we have an incident.”
“Is someone lost in the storm?”
“What?” Serena planted herself between Addie and Simon. “Who’s lost?”
Carolyn drew a notepad and pen out of her inside chest pocket. “The chief said that Patrick Barton dropped in to talk to you last night?” At Addie’s nod, she continued. “What time did he leave here?”
“Just past six, I think.” Addie’s senses tingled.
“That timeline would work.” Carolyn scribbled on her pad.
“I can verify that,” said Simon. “I was arriving when he left.”
“Good.” She continued to write.
“What happened, Carolyn? Did he say something about it? Did he accuse us of something?” When she didn’t look up from her notebook, Addie forced the spiral book down, forcing Carolyn to look at her. “Why the questions?”
“Have any of you seen this man before?” Carolyn opened a sketched photo on her phone.
Simon and Serena peered at it and shook their heads. Addie sucked in a breath. “Yes, I think I have. I know him, but his name escapes me. . . .” Addie opened her phone to the photo she snapped in Patrick’s office of the list of presold ticket purchasers. She scrolled through the list of names. “I’ll remember it when I see it ... yes, here it is. His name is Marvin Gibson.”
“How do you know him?” Carolyn asked.
“My father and David had past dealings with him. He’s a relic and book broker, works mostly out of Italy and New York, I think.”
“Anything else you can tell me about him?” Carolyn’s pen kept scribbling.
“It has long been speculated in the rare-book and artifact community that he brokered some pretty suspicious deals for a lot of shady collectors.”
“What’s he got to do with Patrick?” Simon asked.
Carolyn glowered at Simon. “You know I can’t give information to the public about an ongoing investigation.”
“We are hardly the general public. I’m the district coroner, and Addie’s the . . . the . . . whatever she is. But she’s the only lead you have right now and your best chance of getting information about this guy for whatever this is all about.”
She tapped her pen on the coiled notebook. “Okay, but don’t tell the chief I told you any of this.” Seemingly satisfied with their head nods, she continued. “It seems that Patrick’s assistant, Crystal Parker, filed a missing person report this morning. Apparently, Patrick hasn’t been seen and no one’s been able to reach him since last night about seven. That’s when witnesses saw him arguing at the hospital with the man described in this police sketch.”
Addie glanced at the crime board in the living room. She was definitely going to need another sheet of paper to keep up with the growing list of suspects.
Chapter 13
“So, what are you thinking, Nancy Drew?” Simon stood, hands on hips, beside Addie in front of the board.
“I’m thinking . . .” She let out a deep breath and wrote, Marvin Gibson number 1A, and circled it, stabbing the pen tip on the paper.
“What was it you were saying before about him and shady dealings?” Serena leaned against the doorframe, a plate in hand, shoveling what looked like cold bacon and scrambled eggs into her mouth. At Addie’s laugh, she looked at her plate. “I told you I was starving, and breakfast was kind of interrupted.”
Simon guffawed. “Yummy, why don’t I make you some fresh ones?”
“No, I’m good, but thanks.” Serena wiped a chunk of egg from her chin. “So back to this Marvin guy.”
“Right.” Addie looked back at the board. “Rumor is that he has close ties with organized crime syndicates.”
“Like the Mafia?” Serena’s fork dropped on the plate.
“As the rumors go.”
Simon’s eyes widened. “And he worked with your father and David?”
“No, they definitely didn’t work with him, but they had a lot of dealings with him over the years, though. His specialty as a broker was to launder money for some of the most ruthless crime bosses in the world.”
“It sounds dangerous.” Serena flopped onto the sofa, scooping the last of her breakfast into her mouth.
Simon lightly touched Addie’s hair. Her scalp tingled. “You actually met with this guy?”
“Once.” Her mind flashed to the night she and David attended a small reception and auction in Boston. After David had left her to get them each a drink from the bar, Marvin had approached her, his smile as oily as his face. Apparently, he’d heard a lot about her appraisal skills and wondered if she would do some private work for him. He’d guaranteed good, fast money. David quickly rescued her with a warning to stay far, far away from that man.
“David told me to watch out for him in the future and to report to him if I ever saw him again, especially at small auctions. He said his offer of employment was probably to legitimize the sales he made from stolen or ill-gotten books.”
“Why the small auctions? Wouldn’t he do better going after books and relics worth millions rather than something with an appraised value of, say, sixty thousand dollars?” Simon rubbed his hands over his throat. He looked wan and overtired. She stifled the urge to run her thumb over the dark circles bloating under his eyes.
“Because”—Addie shook her head and forced her focus to the present situation—“the purchase of lower-priced items doesn’t attract the same public attention that the higher-priced ones do. His employers aren’t interested in what they are buying, anyway, but use the purchases only as away to launder their money.”
“I guess I don’t understand this whole money-changing thing. It’s so confusing, but what about all these multimillion deals and art thefts we read about?” Serena asked.
“Sure, there are some big arms dealers and the like who are on the lookout for the multimillion-dollar pieces because they don’t resell them usually. They trade those on the black market. But organized crime rings just want to look for legitimate ways to clean their money. That’s why my book with Kate’s stamped appraisal would be attractive to them. They use crime money to buy it, putting the dirty money out into the community, where it’s spread around in every direction. Then they resell the book to some unsuspecting legitimate collector, get their money back cleaned, leaving a paper trail that isn’t linked to having been acquired through ill-gotten gains. The Feds can’t touch it.”
“Well, then . . . this whole missing book thing just got a lot more interesting, didn’t it?” Simon blew out a breath.
“I wonder what Marvin and Patrick were arguing about?” Serena laid her head back on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. “Just follo
w me on this for a second. Addie, you said you left the appraisal on the desk in Teresa’s office, and it’s now missing, along with the book. Would someone, say Marvin or Patrick, see an opportunity to steal the book and the documents and then sell it to an actual collector later? Which would leave them up sixty thousand to maybe pocket for themselves, but they’d still have the original crime-ring money to invest in something else. Their employer would be none the wiser to the theft and the money having been pocketed. The crime bosses would just be happy when their investment was cleaned.”
Addie pursed her lips together. “Yeah, that could have happened, but I don’t see Patrick as working with organized crime to have been involved in that respect. He was Teresa’s assistant for over a year.”
“Yeah, and he came from some small town in the Midwest. Not really the crime syndicate hub of the country. But then again, Chicago is in the Midwest, isn’t it?” Serena said. “That’s something to consider.”
“Since we know for sure that Marvin does work with organized crime”—Simon studied the list of names on the board—“we need to find out if he was in town when Teresa fell down the stairs and the book went missing.”
Addie studied the board. “He must have been. The highways and airports were closed the day she fell and still are. He would have had to have been here before that, wouldn’t he?”
Murder in the First Edition Page 10