Colin picked up an art magazine. Emma knew he wasn’t distracted. “We were just talking about how you met Rex and Jolie.”
“Dinner with the Blackwoods. I overheard the tail end. Hard to believe how much has happened since then. I loved England, but Porter Square is great and the work here is fascinating. Jolie says summer is quiet.” Adalyn turned to Emma. “This all must be familiar to you, Agent Sharpe, given your background.”
“Some. I’m a little rusty.”
Adalyn sat tenuously on another task chair. She was dressed with the same apparent disregard for wrinkles, mending, stains and what went with what as last night, but her look suited her—and she had other things on her mind, clearly. “I’ve learned so much in the short time I’ve been here. The idea isn’t to restore a work of art to how it looked the day it was painted. That sort of meddling is often too intrusive and unrealistic. That’s the standard in art conservation nowadays.” She smiled brightly at Emma. “But you know that.”
Emma stood next to floor-to-ceiling shelves jammed with supplies. “How well do you know Graham and Verity Blackwood?”
Adalyn’s face drained of color. “They’re friends—Verity especially. We met when I first arrived in London and hit it off. She and Graham were here last week. Why?”
“I’m sorry to tell you that Mrs. Blackwood is in a London hospital,” Emma said. “She was found unresponsive last night. She’s recovering from what appears to be an opioid overdose. When did you see her last?”
“Before she left on Saturday,” Adalyn blurted. “At Logan. My God—will she be all right?”
“We don’t have any details on her condition.” Emma decided to come back to Adalyn and shifted to Jolie. “What about you? When did you last see Verity Blackwood?”
“Tuesday.” Jolie didn’t hesitate. “We drove up to see Fletcher. He’s in a small, private home but Rex had him to the farm. Graham and Verity wanted to see Fletcher while he might still recognize them. He seemed to, or he did a good job faking it. We didn’t stay long. We came back here and had dinner together—the Blackwoods, Rex, Adalyn and me.”
Adalyn jumped to her feet. “I can’t believe this. I hugged Verity and Graham goodbye at the airport. We met at check-in and promised to see each other again soon.”
“Where was your mother then?” Colin asked.
Adalyn reddened at his question and raked a hand through her hair, flustered. “She’d just landed from Washington. I met her at baggage claim. Verity—actually, Verity wanted to talk to her. She said she’d wait at check-in, and I could just text her if Mom couldn’t make it.”
Emma leaned against a counter-height table. “Did they connect?”
“I stayed at baggage claim to wait for my mother’s suitcase while she headed to find Verity. She got back after a few minutes and said she only saw Graham. I didn’t think twice about it, honestly. Mom was beat. We collected her rental car, and she dropped me off here and went on to her apartment. She could have stayed with me. She didn’t want to. Said she knew I was still getting settled.” Adalyn attempted a faltering smile. “Too much like camping for her, I guess.”
“Why didn’t Verity meet your mother, do you know?” Colin asked.
“I think she got jittery about being late for her flight. She’s not as experienced a traveler as Graham is. I don’t know if my mother said that or I just thought it. I can’t...” Adalyn sniffled, brushed a knuckle at some tears. “I don’t know how Verity could have overdosed. She’s not an addict. She hasn’t had any recent surgery.”
Emma glanced at Jolie, saw that she, too, had stood up from her task chair. “What about you, Jolie? How did Mrs. Blackwood appear to you when you were together?”
“She absolutely was not on drugs.” Jolie shook her head as if for added emphasis. “I know it can be difficult to tell if a person is addicted to drugs, but Verity wasn’t—isn’t. Graham isn’t, either. I’m sure of it. They don’t smoke, and they have one drink each and that’s it.”
Colin uncrossed his arms. “Tell us about Stefan Petrescu.”
Not the question either Jolie or Adalyn was expecting. Jolie rubbed the back of her neck with both hands and let out a breath. “That was awful. Just awful. His death, I mean. I assume that’s what you’re getting at. I was staying at a bed-and-breakfast in Oxford. It’s within walking distance of the Blackwood home and Fletcher and Ophelia’s cottage. I ran into Graham while he was out walking, and he told me about Stefan. He said he and Verity were devastated. I didn’t know Stefan. I’d only met him at the dinner the week before, when I met Adalyn.”
“That was the only time I met him, too,” Adalyn said, more subdued. “I was in London—Verity texted me about his death. She couldn’t believe it. I almost postponed my flight home, but it would have cost a fortune to reschedule.”
A window air conditioner creaked to a start. Jolie jumped, then tried to laugh it off. “I hate that damn thing, but I know I should be grateful for it on a hot day like today. Look, I know you’re FBI agents and this poor man’s death must set you off, but he was Verity and Graham’s friend. Part of the reason they visited last week was to get away for a bit. They arrived on Monday afternoon and left Saturday. They stayed two nights at the Four Seasons in Boston. We saw them on Tuesday. Then they rented a house in Maine for a couple of days and drove up there early Wednesday.”
Adalyn sat on one of the club chairs next to Colin. “They wanted to get out of the city for a few days.”
Jolie picked a thick brush from a jar and touched the bristles to her palm. “Verity wanted to see Heron’s Cove. She knows about the Sisters of the Joyful Heart and their work in art conservation, and, of course, about your family, Agent Sharpe. Heron’s Cove was a natural choice for them.”
Colin steadied his gaze on her. “Did you discuss Sharpe Fine Art Recovery with the Blackwoods?”
“I didn’t, no,” Jolie said.
He shifted to Adalyn. “Did you?”
“Not really. They know I’m interested in art crimes.” Adalyn grabbed Colin’s abandoned magazine. Nervous energy, clearly. She smacked it back on the table. “It’s insane to think Verity overdosed. If she did, it was an accident. How’s Graham taking it?”
Colin sat on a matching chair next to her. “Have you spoken with him or Verity since Saturday?”
Adalyn frowned at him. “No, why?”
“I haven’t spoken with them, either,” Jolie said. “Graham’s with Verity, isn’t he?”
“He didn’t return to London with her,” Colin said.
Adalyn nearly jumped out of her chair. “You mean he went back to Maine? He’s still here? Why didn’t he go to London with her? My mother didn’t say anything to me about him not going back. When did he decide?”
“He canceled his flight around the time they met at Logan,” Emma said.
Jolie was shaking her head. “I’m surprised he stayed. Shocked, even. I didn’t notice any problems in his and Verity’s relationship, if that’s your next question.”
Emma kept her attention on Adalyn. “You had brunch with your mother yesterday. Did you discuss the Blackwoods, Heron’s Cove or Stefan Petrescu—anything that might help us understand what’s going on?”
“What do you mean? She’s on vacation. That’s all that’s going on. She’s not—” Adalyn stopped herself. “Oh. You mean because Verity wanted to speak with her at the airport and now she’s overdosed and Graham...” She sucked in a breath. “It’s a lot to absorb. As you can imagine, my mother didn’t take it well when I told her about Stefan, but I expected that. She’s a prosecutor. She’s seen it all. She thinks the worst. She worries I’m naive. I don’t remember if I told her Graham and Verity rented a house in Heron’s Cove. Probably. It wasn’t a secret.”
“What did your mother think of your friendship with the Blackwoods?” Colin asked.
Adalyn clasped both arms of the cha
ir. “She didn’t offer an opinion. She could have met them in England if she’d come to see me, but she didn’t. Too busy. Wanted to dig out so she could take this break. Verity will be okay, won’t she? We want to stay in touch. I’m considering taking a job in England after I graduate.”
“I have one more question for both of you,” Emma said. “Did Verity or Graham mention forgeries to you?”
Adalyn shook her head, her cheeks red, tears in her eyes.
Jolie said nothing.
“Do you have any experience with forgeries?” Emma asked her.
“Some. Not much, thankfully. Clients rarely ask me to authenticate a work, but if I noticed something obvious I’d speak up—acrylic paint on a work supposedly done in the seventeenth century, for example. Of course that wouldn’t automatically make it a forgery. People imitate and copy paintings all the time. It’s when you try to pass it off as a genuine Rembrandt or whatever you get in trouble.” Jolie dropped onto a chair at a tidy desk and raised her gaze to Emma. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”
There was an edge to her voice. Emma understood. She and Colin had come at them with a lot, including the near-death of a friend. She thanked them for their time and placed her card on Jolie’s desk. “If you hear from Graham Blackwood or Tamara McDermott or think of anything else, I’d appreciate if you’d get in touch.”
Jolie nodded, glancing at the card. “Of course.”
Adalyn used the chair’s arms for support as she got to her feet. She swayed as if she was about to pass out but recovered. “Are you worried about my mother?”
“We want to locate her,” Colin said.
“Okay. Um—is Agent Yankowski concerned? He and my parents have been friends for a long time. He knows what my mother’s like.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate hearing from you,” Emma said.
“A diplomatic response. It means you’re not going to tell me if he’s worried.”
Colin shifted to Jolie. “We’d like to speak with Rex, too.”
“He’ll be upset about Verity. He’s known Graham longer, but Ophelia in particular was so happy when he and Verity found each other. I doubt Rex knows Verity overdosed and Graham didn’t go back with her on Saturday. He’d have said something.” Jolie rose, smoothing her tunic. “Not the way I expected today to go, that’s for sure, but I’m sure everything will work out. Verity will recover, you’ll find Graham and Adalyn’s mom will have a wonderful vacation.” She waved a hand. “You can see yourselves out?”
“No problem,” Emma said. “Thank you again for your time.”
Jolie and Adalyn mumbled a goodbye. Emma followed Colin out to the porch. The hanging baskets of petunias and wicker furniture were more traditional than she’d have expected of Jolie Romero. “Adalyn’s worried about her mother,” she said as they descended to the street.
“She should be.” Colin turned to her when they reached the car. “On to Maine?”
“You drive. I’ll call Yank and fill him in.”
10
“I wish we’d recommended Cape Cod to the Blackwoods,” Jolie said after the FBI agents left. “Emma Sharpe did not look happy about Heron’s Cove. I guess I don’t blame her.”
Adalyn said nothing as she returned to the worktable. Jolie had her sorting through documents Rex had salvaged from his father’s burned studio. Smoke, soot, flames and water had done varying levels of damage to the papers. It was tedious but not difficult work, which Adalyn appreciated, given the distractions of the day. She worked only part-time and didn’t have set hours yet.
Jolie grabbed the bright vest she’d worn last night from a hook by her desk. “If it gets too chilly in here, let me know. I was starting to sweat and turned up the AC, but it could have just been having the FBI here.” She slipped into the vest. “I can’t wrap my head around what happened to Verity. You know her better than I do. Did she seem despondent at all to you? Did you get any hint she was on drugs?”
“No and no,” Adalyn said without hesitation. “She seemed herself. Sad about Stefan’s death, but Graham was closer to him than she was. He was sad, too.”
“Sad and horrified.” Jolie returned to her desk. “They hoped a few days here would help them wrap their heads around what happened. I’ve never lost a friend or loved one to murder. It has to be awful.”
Adalyn opened an archive-quality folder. “I hope I didn’t miss anything that could have helped her.”
“Don’t go there, Adalyn. I might never have dealt with murder, but I’ve dealt with enough tragedies in my life to know second-guessing gets you nowhere. Let’s just focus on our work, shall we?”
“Makes sense.”
Sixty seconds later, Rex burst into the studio, pulling the door shut hard behind him. Jolie typically left it unlocked during work hours—a habit she’d promised Adalyn she’d break. Adalyn hoped she would follow through. It was a safe neighborhood, but still.
The prosecutor’s daughter, she thought, smiling to herself.
Rex laughed in disbelief. “I just got grilled by the FBI. I’m sitting in a coffee shop on Mass. Ave., enjoying a double espresso, when in come your agents Sharpe and Donovan. They saw me going in. Scared the hell out of me. They told me they’d stopped here first and spoke to you two. They told me about Verity...” He shook his head. “Can you believe it? An overdose. I never saw that coming. Have you had any updates on her condition?”
“I texted a mutual friend in London,” Adalyn said. “I haven’t heard back.”
“And your mom? Still nothing?”
Adalyn bit down on her lower lip, trying to control a flood of unruly emotions. “No, nothing. It’s bad timing, her taking off on her FBI-agent friends and Verity overdosing on opioids.”
“No kidding,” Rex said. “Graham staying behind at the last minute doesn’t help. He didn’t clue me in. Maybe he needed a few days on his own. He and Stefan Petrescu had been friends for a long time.”
Adalyn pictured her mother’s face when she’d realized one of her daughter’s acquaintances in England had been shot to death. Irritation. As if Adalyn had done something wrong. The wrongdoing had been on the part of the shooter, but in her mother’s world, Adalyn should have been in London, watching a baking show with friends her own age.
Rex laughed, interrupting her irritable thoughts. Jolie had repeated her crack about Cape Cod to him. He and his parents had never had direct dealings with the Sisters of the Joyful Heart or Sharpe Fine Art Recovery, but probably knew people who had. Jolie, for one, at least with the sisters.
“I have a few errands to run,” Rex said, clearly restless after his chat with the FBI. “I was going to do them after my coffee, but I wanted to check with you two first once those two agents barged in. I’m still not over it. It’ll take a while for my blood pressure to return to normal.” He grinned suddenly. “Now I sound like my dad, before his mind started to slip. I’ve spent so much time with him lately I have to remember I’m only thirty-one. I’ll be back later. Glad you two aren’t in cuffs.”
After he left, Jolie chose a fat boar-bristle brush from a jar of brushes. “You could do worse than Rex, you know,” she said.
Adalyn smiled. “I could and I have.”
Jolie’s eyes widened, and she sputtered into laughter. “I hope you didn’t tell your parents that. Have mercy on them, Adalyn. They’re getting used to having their only daughter turn twenty-one. One shocker at a time.”
Adalyn was grateful she’d managed to lighten the mood, but then she got a text message. Not from her mother, of course. Her friend in London—another archivist—had responded.
Everyone’s shocked about Verity. I heard she could have suffered permanent brain damage due to lack of O2. I hope not.
Adalyn typed a quick text. Thanks. Keep me posted and I’ll do the same.
Will do. xoxo
“I need so
me air,” Adalyn said after reading the text to Jolie. She closed the folder with the documents she’d meant to work on. “Would you mind?”
Jolie pointed her brush toward the street. “Go, take a walk—take the afternoon. We’ll work out hours later. Get your bearings. With any luck, you’ll hear from your mother before you get back.”
The moment Adalyn stepped outside, she shuddered at the heat and humidity. She tried to take the heat wave in stride. She wasn’t in London anymore, but she didn’t want any reminders of her three months there, not right now. She made it to the corner when her father called. “I just got off the phone with Matt Yankowski. Adalyn, what the hell’s going on?”
“Where are you, Dad?”
“What? I’m in my office. Where else would I be?”
In bed with another girlfriend? Adalyn chided herself for thinking such a thing. His life was his business—just as her life was her business. She pictured him at his desk in his office a few blocks from the White House. He’d worked as a state prosecutor for years before switching to a prominent DC law firm. She abandoned any urge to needle him. “I thought you might be on a flight up here.”
“I’ll be there in a heartbeat if you need me.”
“Agent Yankowski told you—”
“About this British couple and this man in England who was murdered. Friends of yours. Hell, Adalyn.”
“It’s okay, Dad. I’m fine. Please don’t come. Mom will get in touch with us when she wants to. If she calls me, I’ll let you know. You can do the same if she calls you first.”
“She won’t call me.”
Adalyn wanted to smash her phone on the sidewalk. He was so pathetic. Morose, almost. “Dad, she’s fine—you know that, right? Mom’s fine.”
“Of course she is. You wait, she’ll show up safe and sound tonight.”
“I hope so.” Adalyn realized she was the one who sounded pathetic now. “No, you’re right. She will. She picked the wrong time to pull something like this. All she had to do was wait until after dinner to leave on vacation.”
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