Liar's Key

by Carla Neggers

  “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.”

  “You’ll have to thank Lucas.”

  “Lucas. I felt the cold wind blowing from him when we arrived. He’d never be openly rude, but it’s obvious he’d rather we weren’t in Heron’s Cove. Well, you can tell him for me that Claudia is my friend and he’s wrong not to trust her, or forgive her or—I don’t know, give up on whatever grudge he has against her.”

  “That’s between the two of them,” Emma said, sipping her cider.

  Isabel sighed, rolling her eyes. “Sometimes I wonder what it takes to get a pulse out of you Sharpes. Honestly, you’re a cool, calm, collected bunch. Wendell has more heat than you and Lucas, but I bet he doesn’t lose control, either. I suppose you can’t get riled up easily in your line of work.” She waved her hand, almost splashing champagne out of her glass. “I have the feeling I’m misbehaving. Thank you for letting me get that off my chest. Now we can smile and enjoy ourselves. Henry and Adrian don’t plan to stay long. I’ll leave when they do.” She raised her glass. “I’m afraid I inhaled this—the one before it, too.”

  “Time for food, maybe.”

  “I had champagne at Claridge’s on Sunday. It was more expensive than this one but I liked it less. Your former agent had a glass, too. Where is he? I thought he was coming today.”

  Emma helped herself to a tiny lobster taco, although she wasn’t hungry. “How well do you know Agent Wheelock?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I haven’t seen him since Thursday. Have you?”

  Isabel shook her head. “I haven’t seen him since London. Claudia has. I hope she changes her mind and stops in today. She loves champagne.” She waved to someone behind Emma. “Excuse me, won’t you? I see someone who bought one of my first mosaics. I must say hello.”

  She scooted off, and Emma went through the kitchen, which was bustling with caterers, and out to the porch. It was crowded with guests. Some she recognized, some she didn’t, but she was deliberately keeping a low profile. This wasn’t her event.

  She set her glass on a table and stood at the top of the steps. More guests wandered through the yard, bordered by hedges on one side and hydrangeas on the other. So much had changed but it was still very much the house where her grandparents had lived and worked for decades. Emma walked down the steps and across the yard to the retaining wall above the docks. The sun sparkled on the river. The waterfront was stunning on a beautiful late spring day, but she found herself feeling more distant from Sharpe Fine Art Recovery than ever.

  And still no Gordy.

  “The Deverells asked me to say goodbye,” Lucas said, joining her. “Isabel Greene went with them. She shot me daggers on her way out. Colin is upstairs with Oliver and Granddad. I think they’re trying to pin him down about his plans for your honeymoon.”

  “Uh-oh. Does he need me to rescue him?”

  “Nothing fazes Colin. Well, you walking down the aisle in a wedding dress might.” Her brother tilted his head back, his green eyes warm in the bright sun. “You don’t have any doubts about getting married, do you, Emma?”

  “None. But let’s not talk about me right now. Today’s your day, Lucas. You’re in your element. I can see yo
u’re proud of the new offices. You should be.”

  “I am, and thanks. We all knew we needed to renovate, but I didn’t expect new offices to be such a boost, not just for me but for the entire staff. The work took longer than I expected but everyone says it always does. We’re reenergized. Granddad seems happy with how everything turned out. He’s enjoying his suite.”

  “Mom and Dad will be thrilled, too.”

  “I did a virtual tour with them. They’ll be here for your wedding, Emma. I know they will.” Lucas glanced back at the house. “Today’s turnout is better than I expected. I never thought I’d like this work, but I do. It suits me. I had something to prove, but I had room to maneuver and make a few mistakes. There’s a certain freedom in modest expectations.” He paused. “Anyway, Henry Deverell invited us up for drinks and a bite later on. You, Colin, Granddad, me, the Brackens. Oliver York. I’m not sure I like the idea of him getting lumped in with us.”

  “Will you go?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “I’ve never been clear on what you have against Claudia,” Emma said.

  He shrugged. “We got together a few times when I was in London. It didn’t go further than that. It was a difficult time for her. She’d just quit the auction house to spend more time with her mother. Victoria never had a chance with the cancer. Claudia flew back and forth between London and Philadelphia, with side trips to New York. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. She needed a friend.”

  “And you couldn’t be that friend or she wanted more than a friend?”

  “Maybe a little of both. It doesn’t matter.”

  “She helped Gordy Wheelock around that same time,” Emma said.

  “I think he was a welcome distraction for her,” Lucas said evenly. “Always good to help the FBI. She loves talking about antiquities, mosaics in particular. She and I didn’t click. That’s the long and the short of it. We had an awkward parting of ways. We’re seeing each other for the first time since then, and it’s a bit strained. That’s all. If you have any other questions, Emma, can they wait?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “You must be pleased Colin is back. All good there?”

  “All good. He’s decided to buy a tux. Figures he’ll need one being married to a Sharpe.”

  Lucas laughed. “Just because Granddad, Dad and I own tuxes doesn’t mean we enjoy wearing them.” He pointed with his champagne glass toward the marina. “Isn’t that Mary Bracken?”

  It was, indeed. Mary spotted them and waved, making her way down the docks. She hoisted up the hem of her long, casual skirt and climbed up around the edge of the retaining wall. “What a fun day,” she said, smiling at Emma and Lucas. “I love Dublin, but I can’t believe your grandfather ever left this place. I didn’t realize it’s right on the water. I could watch the boats and the birds and the people all day.”

  “It’ll get a lot busier after Memorial Day,” Lucas said.

  “That’s the unofficial start to the marina’s summer season,” Emma added. “Has Finian gone back to Rock Point?”

  Mary nodded. “He had to prepare for Saturday services. He told me he hated to leave, but I didn’t believe him. He never liked parties even before he was a priest. It’s so good to see him. He’s a good priest, isn’t he?”

  “I think so,” Emma said.

  Mary looked past her at the riverbank below the inn and parking lot. “That’s Claudia Deverell, isn’t it?”

  Emma turned to Lucas. “I’ll go down and say hi.”

  He took the hint. “Come, Mary,” he said. “Have you ever tried Maine lobster?”

  “Please tell Claudia hello from me,” Mary said.

  She and Lucas started across the lawn together to the house. Emma squeezed between the hedges and went down to the riverbank. The tide was going out, leaving behind strands of seaweed among the wet sand and polished stones.

  “That was Mary Bracken I saw on the docks, wasn’t it?” Claudia pointed vaguely toward the marina, past the Sharpe house. “It’s hard to believe we just saw each other in Ireland. Today’s a change from the dreary weather we had the day I did my Bracken distillery tour. Anyway, hello, Emma. What an absolutely gorgeous day.”

  “It is,” Emma said. “I can imagine Mary does a great distillery tour.”

  “Informative and entertaining. It was my first. I enjoyed it. I love the history of the place. I hadn’t realized Declan and Finian are fraternal twins. They were quite the visionaries. I saw the brother who’s a priest now. If my brother ever announced he was entering seminary, I’d know he’d lost his mind. Finian Bracken seems suited to it from what I hear. It must be strange for Mary, getting used to him as a priest.”

  “I’m sure it has its moments,” Emma said.

  “You must know, since your family had to get used to you as a nun—or an almost-nun, at least. At least your convent and Father Bracken’s parish are in a beautiful place. Rock Point has its charms, but I guess I’m spoiled by Heron’s Cove.” Claudia bit her lower lip. “Can I blame that remark on fatigue and a lapse in good manners?”

  “No problem.”

  “Mary Bracken’s part of the world on the southwest Irish coast is beautiful, too,” Claudia said, sounding less awkward. “I know you must be curious, Emma—I chose Bracken Distillers because of today’s open house and my return here. It wasn’t one of those small-world moments. I’d heard about the Brackens’ friendship with your family.” She shrugged. “It just seemed like the thing to do.”

  “Sounds as if you had a busy week before you headed here.”

  “Very. Intense, too, with Alessandro Pearson’s death and funeral.” Claudia toed at a stone embedded in the sand. “You’ve caught me in a gregarious mood. I put off coming back here. It’s been easier than I thought it would be, maybe because I did wait. Every nook and crevice of the house reminds me of my mother. Walking along Ocean Avenue and listening to the waves...” She breathed in again. “It’s as if she’s with me.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Emma said simply.

  Claudia nodded without comment, her eyes welling with tears. Finally she got the stone loose, swooped down, scooped it up with one hand and pitched it into the river. It disappeared with a plop, barely causing any ripples. “I thought I’d see Agent Wheelock here,” she said.

  “I did, too.” Emma stayed above the tide line, where the stones were dry, not stuck in the sand. “When did you see and speak with him last?”

  “Early afternoon on Thursday. He stopped to see me at a small gallery on Newbury Street owned by friends of mine. Isabel shows her work there—Isabel Greene. She was here.”

  “We chatted briefly.”

  “She’s very opinionated,” Claudia said. “She can be protective of me because of my mother and their friendship. It’s a little odd because Isabel and I are close to the same age. Obviously you know I helped Agent Wheelock with an antiquities investigation. I don’t know any details because he didn’t tell me, but the case must be in his files. My part wasn’t a big deal.”

  “What exactly did you do?” Emma asked.

  “I gave him a tutorial on the antiquities trade and assorted controversies through the centuries and took him through the work my mother and Alessandro started on mosaic preservation training. Antiquities 101, basically. Gordy said he’d be here today, but he didn’t sound enthusiastic. He didn’t look well when I saw him on Thursday. I assumed he was just tired, but maybe he was coming down with something, too.”

  Emma picked up a small stone and rubbed the smooth, pale blue-gray surface with her thumb. “Did you ask him to come to London last week?”

  “No, but I called him and that’s why he came.” Claudia squatted down and picked through wet stones, choosing one about the size of an egg. “I was upset about Alessandro’s death—Alessandro Pearson.
You knew him. He died suddenly, and I was coming back here...” She stood with her stone. “I called Gordy on impulse. I wanted to talk to him. We’d become friends and stayed in touch on and off after his retirement, at least for the first few months.” She captured a few windblown strands of her fine blond hair and tucked them behind her ear. “Look, Emma, I have nothing to hide. I did my best to help Gordy last year, as I would have you or any other FBI agent, or your grandfather or parents or brother, for that matter. I put him in touch with Alessandro if he needed more information. I’m not a scholar like he was. Then he retired. Gordy, I mean, not Alessandro.”

  “It must be tough, losing Alessandro so soon after your mother,” Emma said.

  Claudia flung her stone, watching it plop into the water. “At least he was almost ninety and died of a heart attack. My imagination and emotions got the better of me last week. I just wanted to hear Gordy tell me everything was okay, from the point of view of a friend and an experienced investigator.” She stooped, grabbed another stone and stood straight again. “I know many people in my work. Every single one of them has been honest and reputable—dealers, scholars, collectors, educators, conservationists. They might not agree on every topic involving antiquities, but they aren’t mixed up in looting, pillaging, fraud and funding terrorists.”

  A lobster boat puttered through the narrow channel from the ocean into the river, creating gentle waves as it made its way to its mooring. “Did you and Agent Wheelock discuss Alessandro’s death or stolen mosaics when he was in London last weekend?” Emma asked.

  “Not specifically, no. He’s become cynical, Emma. He didn’t believe me when I told him I had no reason to think any foul play was involved in Alessandro’s death. I was just worked up about coming back here.”

  “When did you decide to go to Ireland?”

  “About ten minutes after I called Gordy. It’s a short flight. I really was worked up. The only connection between calling Gordy and Ireland is being here. The open house today. Going through a house that’s been in my family for generations, with all its memories. Seeing people I’ve known since childhood.” She tossed her stone into the dissipating waves created by the lobster boat. “I think Gordy understood. He had an amazing career. It had to be hard to let go.”