The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 3

by Nora Roberts

  “That’s not enough. I’ll do that Web search. Let me tell you something, Jack, I have a tendency to find things out as well.”

  “Tia Marsh.” He fell into step beside Rebecca as she strode down the hill. “You said she paid for your brother’s flight to New York. She’s okay, then?”

  Rebecca slanted him a look. “She’s fine and well as far as I can tell. You know her, do you?”

  “Only met her once, but I liked her. Did anything happen to her parents?”

  “No. It has something to do with someone else altogether, and I’m not giving you names until I’m sure you’ve no part in it.”

  “I want the Fates, but not enough to murder. If Anita’s behind that, it changes the complexion of things.”

  “You don’t sound as if you’d put such a thing past her.”

  “She’s a spider,” Jack said simply. “I liked her husband, did some work for him. I’ve done work for her, too. I don’t have to like all my clients. How did your brother get tangled up with her?”

  “Because she—” She broke off, scowled. “I’m not saying. How did you get Malachi’s name, unless she gave it to you?”

  “Tia mentioned him.” He walked in silence for a while.

  “Listen, you and your family seem to have a nice business going here,” he continued. “You should think about letting this go. You’re out of your league with Anita.”

  “You don’t know me or my league. We’ll have the Three Fates before it’s done, that’s a promise. And if you’re such an interested collector, you can prepare yourself to ante up for them.”

  “And I thought you weren’t a money-grubber.”

  Because she heard the humor in his voice, it didn’t ruffle her feathers. “I’m a businesswoman, Jack, as you pointed out yourself. And I can wheel and deal as well as anyone. Better than most. I’ve done my research on the Fates. The complete set at auction at a place like Wyley’s or Sotheby’s could go for upwards of twenty million American dollars. More, if the right publicity spin’s put on it.”

  “An incomplete set, even two-thirds of the three, would only net a fraction of that, and only from an interested collector.”

  “We’ll have the three. We were meant to.”

  He let it go and kept pace with her brisk march up a long hill at the very edge of town. At the top was a pretty house with a pretty garden, and a pretty woman tending it.

  She straightened, shielded her eyes with the flat of her hand. When she smiled in greeting, Jack caught the resemblance around the mouth.

  “Well, Becca darling, what have you brought home with you?”

  “Jack Burdett. I invited him home for tea before I knew he was a liar and a sneak.”

  “Is that so?” Eileen’s smile didn’t dim in the slightest. “Well, an invitation’s an invitation after all. I’m Eileen Sullivan.” She extended her hand over the garden gate. “Mother to this rude creature.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. I enjoyed your talk during the tour.”

  “It’s kind of you to say so. You’re from America?” she added as she opened the gate.

  “New York. I’m in Cobh as I was hoping to talk to your son Malachi, regarding the Three Fates.”

  “Sure, you have no trouble spilling it all out to her in a lump,” Rebecca scolded. “With me it’s all flirtation and pretense.”

  “I said I liked the look of you, and since you don’t strike me as a stupid woman, you’d know if a man looks at you and doesn’t like what he sees, he’s got a serious problem. Boiled down, that means there was flirtation but no pretense. I’ve annoyed your daughter, Mrs. Sullivan.”

  Amused, intrigued, Eileen nodded. “That’s easily done. Maybe we should talk inside before the neighbors start wagging about it. Kate Curry’s already peeking out the window. So, you’ve come from New York,” she continued as she started up the short walk to the door. “Have you family there?”

  “Not anymore. My parents moved to Arizona several years ago. They like the weather.”

  “Hot, I suppose. No wife, then?”

  “Not anymore. I’m divorced.”

  “Ah.” Eileen led the way into the company parlor. “That’s a pity.”

  “The marriage was the pity. The divorce was a lot easier on both of us. You have a good home, Mrs. Sullivan.”

  She liked the way he put it. “Yes, I do, and you make yourself comfortable in it. I’ll see about that tea, then we’ll talk. Rebecca, entertain our guest.”

  “Ma.” With a withering glance at Jack, Rebecca hustled after Eileen.

  He could hear the whispers from the hallway where they stood. Argued, he decided with a grin. He couldn’t make out the words, until the last of them. That was clear.

  “Rebecca Anne Margaret Sullivan, you get in the company parlor and show some manners this minute, or I’ll know the reason why.”

  Rebecca stomped back in, flung herself in the chair across from Jack’s. Her face was full of storms, and her voice full of ice. “Don’t think you’ll get around me because you got around my mother.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. Rebecca Anne Margaret.”

  “Oh, stuff it.”

  “Tell me why your brother went back to New York. Tell me why you think Anita’s involved in a murder.”

  “I’ll tell you nothing at all until I’ve had a whack at my computer and seen how much of what you’ve told me is the truth.”

  “Go ahead, do it now.” He waved a hand. “I’ll cover for you with your mother.”

  Rebecca weighed her mother’s wrath against the burn of her own curiosity. Knowing she’d pay for it dearly, she got to her feet. “If one single thing you’ve said doesn’t match, I’ll boot you out personally.”

  She walked to the doorway, and Jack saw her send an uneasy glance down the hall, where her mother had gone, before she charged up the steps.

  Because he sympathized with a child’s healthy fear of her mother, he rose and wandered back to the kitchen.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” He stepped in while Eileen cut cake into neat squares. “I wanted to see the house.”

  “I heard that girl go upstairs, and after I told her not to.”

  “My fault. I told her to go ahead and run a check on me. You’ll both feel more comfortable once she does.”

  “If I didn’t feel comfortable now, you wouldn’t be in my home.” She tapped a long-bladed knife against the side of the cake plate, smiling a little when his gaze dropped to it. “I know how to judge a man when I look him in the eye. And I know how to take care of my own.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Good. Now I know why I went and baked this cake this morning, though the boys aren’t about to eat it.” She turned to the stove to finish the tea. “For company, it’s the parlor. For business, it’s the kitchen.”

  “Then I guess it’s the kitchen.”

  “Have a seat, and have some cake. When the girl gets going on that computer, there’s no telling when she’ll show her face again.”

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had homemade cake, or eaten in a kitchen that wasn’t his own. It relaxed him, and made the time he normally would have marked pass easily.

  It was thirty minutes or more before Rebecca sailed in and pulled up a chair. “He’s who he says he is,” she said to her mother, “so that’s something.” When she reached for a piece of cake, Eileen slapped her hand away.

  “You don’t deserve any sweets.”

  “Oh, Ma.”

  “Whatever your age, Rebecca, you don’t disobey your mother without consequences.”

  Her brows drew together, but she left the cake alone. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.” She shifted her gaze, and the darts in it, to Jack. “I wonder what you’d be needing with a flat in New York, and another in Los Angeles, and still a third in London.”

  Though she surprised him, he sipped his tea. It had taken more than average computer skills to dig that deep. “I travel a lot, and prefer my own place to hotels when I can mana
ge it.”

  “And what does the man’s personal business have to do with this, Becca?”

  At her mother’s censorious tone, she bristled. “I’ve got to know the nature of him, don’t I? He shows up here this way, just after Mal’s left, and after that horrible business in New York, where he admits he’s just come from.”

  “I’d have done the same,” he told her with a nod. “And more.”

  “I intend to do more. But more takes time. What I did find was that you checked into your hotel here early this morning, driving a rental car. And you’d booked your room two days ago. That’s before the trouble in New York, so I can’t see what one has to do with the other.”

  He leaned forward now. “Tell me who was murdered.”

  “It was a young man named Michael Hicks,” Eileen told him. “God rest him.”

  “Was he working with you?”

  “He was not.” Rebecca huffed out a breath, then added, “It’s a complicated business.”

  “I’m good at complications.”

  Rebecca looked at her mother.

  “Darling, someone has died.” Eileen laid a hand on her daughter’s. “An innocent young man, by all accounts. Everything changes because of it. All this has to be put right again. If there’s a chance Jack can help do that, we have to take it.”

  Rebecca sat back, studied Jack’s face. “Will you help see she pays for what she’s done?”

  “If Anita had anything to do with murder, I’ll see she pays. You have my word on it.”

  Rebecca nodded and, because she still wanted cake, folded her hands on the table. “You tell it, Ma. You’re better at telling.”

  EILEEN WAS GOOD at telling and, Rebecca discovered, Jack Burdett was good at listening. He asked no questions, made no comments, only sipped his tea and kept his attention on Eileen while she spoke.

  “And so,” she finished, “Malachi’s gone back to New York City to do what needs to be done.”

  Jack nodded, and wondered if this nice, cozy family had any conception of what they’d gotten themselves into. “So this Cleo Toliver has the second Fate.”

  “It wasn’t perfectly clear if she had it or knew where it was. The boy who died was a dear friend of hers, and she’s blaming herself over it.”

  “And Anita knows who she is, but not where. At the moment.”

  “As it stands,” Eileen confirmed.

  “It’d be wise to keep it that way. If she’s killed once, it’ll be easy to kill again. Mrs. Sullivan, is it worth it to you? To risk your family?”

  “Nothing’s worth my family, but they won’t be stopped now. I’d be disappointed in them if they did. There’s a young man dead, and that has to be accounted for. This woman can’t steal and murder without an accounting.”

  “How did she get the first Fate away from you?”

  “How do you know she did?” Rebecca demanded. “Unless she told you herself.”

  “You told me,” he said mildly. “You called her a thief. And you put flowers on the grave of your great-great-grandfather, one Felix Greenfield, who’d been aboard the Lusitania. Up until recently, I believed the first Fate to have been lost along with Henry W. Wyley. The way this plays out, the Fate and your ancestor were spared. How did he manage it? Did he work for Wyley?”

  “Felix wasn’t the only one who survived,” Rebecca began.

  “Oh, Becca, for pity’s sake, the man’s got a brain in his head, and he’s used it. I’m afraid Felix stole the statue. He was a bit of a thief, but he reformed. He slipped the little thing in his pocket just as the torpedo hit. Though it might seem self-serving, I like to think it was meant.”

  “He stole it.” A grin spread over Jack’s face. “That’s perfect. Then Anita steals it from you.”

  “That’s different,” Rebecca insisted. “She knew what it was, and Felix didn’t. She used her dead husband’s business reputation when Mal took it to her for appraisal. Then she used her body to dull his common sense—and him being a man, it was easily done. She made a fool out of all of us and that . . . well, we’ll have an accounting for that as well.”

  “If this is a matter of pride, you’d better rethink. She’ll eat a tasty morsel like you alive.”

  “She can try. And she’ll choke.”

  “Pride isn’t a luxury,” Eileen said quietly. “And not always a kind of vanity. Surviving when others died changed Felix. It, you could say, made a man out of him. The Fate was a symbol of that change, and it stood for it in our family for five generations. Now we know what it is, beyond that symbol, and we believe the three should be brought back together. That was meant as well. Maybe there’s profit in it, and we won’t turn from that. But it’s not for greed. It’s for family.”

  “Anita has the first, and knows—or thinks she knows—how to get the second. You’re in her way.”

  “And the Sullivans aren’t so easily pushed aside as she might think,” Eileen said. “Felix floated freezing on a broken crate while one of the grandest ships ever built sank behind him. He survived, while it didn’t. While more than a thousand others didn’t. And he had that little silver figure in his pocket. He brought it here, and we’ll have it back.”

  “If I help you do that, help you put the three together, will you sell it to me?”

  “If you meet the asking price,” Rebecca began, but her mother cut her off with one sharp look.

  “If you help us, we’ll sell it to you. You have my word on it,” she said and extended her hand over the table.

  HE WANTED TIME to think it through, so stayed over in Cobh another day. It gave him the opportunity to make a number of calls, begin a number of background checks on the players in what Jack was finding a very interesting game.

  He trusted Eileen Sullivan. While he was attracted to Rebecca, he didn’t have the same instinctive faith in the daughter as he did in the mother. Because he wanted a second run at her, Jack bought another ticket for the tour and strolled down to the dock.

  She didn’t look pleased to see him. The cheerful expression she wore while chatting with passengers went cold and hard when her gaze shifted, landed on him.

  She snatched the voucher out of his hand. “What are you doing back here?”

  “Maybe I can’t keep away from you.”

  “Bollocks. But it’s your money.”

  “I’ll give you ten pounds more for a seat on the bridge and some conversation.”

  “Twenty.” She held out a hand. “In advance.”

  “Distrusting and mercenary.” He dug out twenty pounds. “Careful, I could fall in love with you.”

  “Then I’d have the pleasure of grinding your heart into dust. For that, I’d refund your twenty. Take your seat, then, and don’t touch anything. I’ve got to get started.”

  He waited, let her wonder and stew as she maneuvered into the harbor and set her mother’s recording.

  “Looks like rain,” he commented.

  “We’ve a couple hours yet. You don’t strike me as a man who makes the same trip twice without good reason. What do you want?”

  “Another invitation to tea?”

  “You won’t get it.”

  “Now that’s cold. Other than me, have you noticed anyone hanging around, taking this tour, walking by your house, maybe showing up along your daily routine?”

  “You think we’re being watched?” Rebecca shook her head. “She doesn’t do it that way. She’s not worried about what we’re doing here in Cobh. She’s concerned with what one of us might be doing when we’re not at home. She tracked my brothers when they went off, and I think she did that through the airline tickets—the credit card, you know. It’s not that difficult to get such information if you’re clever with the computer.”

  “It’s not simple either.”

  “If I can do it, she, or someone she pays, can as well.”

  “And can you?”

  “I can do damn near anything with a computer. I know, for instance, that you were divorced five years ago, after one year a
nd three months of marriage. Not such a long time.”

  “Long enough, apparently.”

  “I know your address in New York City, should I want to pay a call sometime in the future. I know you went to Oxford University and graduated in the top ten percent of your class. That’s not too bad,” she added. “Considering.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I know you have no criminal record, at least none that shows on a surface look, and that your company, which you started twelve years ago, has a strong, international reputation and has given you an estimated net—net, mind you—worth of twenty-six million American dollars. And that,” she said with the first hint of laughter in her eyes, “isn’t so very bad either.”

  He stretched out his legs. “That’s a lot of digging.” And very impressive work, he thought.

  “Oh, not so very much.” She waved it—and the six hours she’d spent at her keyboard—off. “And I was curious.”

  “Curious enough to take a trip to Dublin?”

  “Why would I want to go to Dublin?”

  “Because I’m going, tonight.”

  “Is that a proposition, Jack? And while my mother’s voice is coming through the speaker?”

  “It is, but whether it’s personal or business is up to you. There’s someone in Dublin I need to see. I think it’ll be worth your while to tag along.”

  “Who would this be?”

  “You want to find out, have a bag packed and be ready by five-thirty. I’ll come by for you.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she replied, but was mentally packing her bag.

  Fourteen

  “I knowI’m leaving you shorthanded, Ma.”

  “That’s not what concerns me.” Eileen frowned as Rebecca rolled up a sweater like a sausage and stuffed it into her bag. “I said I had a good feeling about Jack Burdett, and that I trusted him to be an honest man, but that doesn’t mean I feel easy about my daughter going off with him after one day’s acquaintance.”

  “It’s business.” Rebecca debated between jeans and trousers. “And if it were Mal or Gideon heading out like this, you wouldn’t think twice.”