The Witness (15 page)

“Nice, kind, a gentleman but I think touched, just a smidgen, with a bit of rogue.”

Tracey glanced up from pulling off her boots, her grin quick. “Single child, responsible son, with humor and that ‘going to do what he thinks best’ habit already woven into the DNA?”

Marie laughed. “That was my first, second, and third impressions.”

“I’m already going to love him.”

Marie turned to their guest. “Marsh, can I get you some coffee? You can stay awhile?” He had yet to remove his jacket, and she wasn’t sure how to read how things had gone for them this week.

“I told Connor I’d track him down at three. I would love that coffee.” His voice was near a baritone, and with the beard starting he looked a lot more rough than usual. She’d always thought he’d looked like a particularly dangerous man and today was giving even more of that impression. That he had a soft heart under all those layers was a simple fact Tracey had known from the earliest days.

Marie moved around the kitchen counter to start the coffee. “I gather the skiing was a good time?”

Marsh laid his jacket over a chair. “The snow was perfect; a nice powder. Tracey only took a few dramatic spills, thankfully. Your sister was trying to give me a heart attack a few times and laughing as she did it.”

Marie smiled, remembering past trips with her sister. “I can believe it.”

“I’m getting much better on skis,” Tracey defended. She stepped back and into Marsh, who seemed to have grown accustomed to the habit, for he’d braced his feet apart. Tracey leaned against him while his arms settled comfortably around her. Marsh had a good six inches and nine years on her sister, but the two looked more like a couple every time Marie saw them together. She checked Tracey’s ring finger just to make sure she wasn’t wearing an engagement ring; her sister’s happiness had a different quality to it now. “How did you two get past the reporters downstairs?”

“I called Bryce when we were getting close, and he arranged a delivery van to move in a large display board into the side entrance of the gallery. That blocked the sidewalk so we could walk up and into the gallery without being reached by the reporters,” Marsh replied. “You look tired, Marie. I’m sorry we were so far away when this news came.”

“I admit it’s been a long couple days.” She smiled at him. “I’m surviving. I met your partner.”

“Connor told me. I hope he was on his best behavior.”

She looked up and saw a distinct twinkle in the guy’s eyes. “He’s not quite the gentleman you are, but he tried,” Marie replied, smiling softly. “His grandfather likes me too.”

“Peter was by … that explains a few things.” He nodded toward the hall. “I noticed the new doors.”

“New doors, windows, locks, it was an incredibly long list. Tracey, before I forget. There’re new keys to everything. I left yours on your dresser.”

“Thanks. I promised Marsh I’d show him that new landscape we got in; can you give us ten minutes?”

“Sure.”

Tracey tugged his hands. “A few minutes of art, then coffee, and you’ll still make it on time to meet Connor.”

Marsh smiled. “Marie, she’s starting to harass me about the fact I like to be on time. I don’t think my trait is rubbing off on her like you had hoped.”

Marie laughed. “I noticed.” The phone ringing interrupted. “Tell Bryce he’s welcome to come have some coffee too.” She went to answer the summons.

Connor shoved aside his gym bag and extra tennis shoes to make room at the bottom of his closet for snow boots and ski gear. Marsh renting equipment when Connor had a closetful hadn’t made sense. He pushed the closet door closed and it stayed closed, and Connor decided it was neat enough to do. His partner was in an odd mood. Connor had picked up on it within minutes of his arrival. And he wasn’t certain what to do about it.

Marsh was out on the small balcony looking over the traffic the next street over and the parking lot below; the apartment wasn’t known for its view. He held a mug of steaming coffee in his hands rather than the cigarette Connor had wondered if he’d see. His partner had busted smoking two years ago, but on stressful days it would show again if life turned bad enough.

“So what’s your read on their new cousin?” Marsh asked.

Connor leaned against the brick of the building, the day cold without a jacket. “I’ve known Daniel a long time; he’s a straight shooter.”

“He’s going to be carrying a lot of influence over the two of them in the next few years. Not only the money, but everything they now relearn about their pasts.”

“He’s doing his best to protect them from trouble rather than walk them into more of it.”

“Maybe.”

Connor studied his partner. “What’s got you so out of sorts?”

“Tracey didn’t particularly take the news about her dad well. She’s put on a pretty bright exterior for Marie, but it’s not been taken as good news.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Yeah.” Marsh studied the bottom of his mug and straightened. “They’re spending tomorrow with Daniel.”

“Marie mentioned it,” Connor replied.

“Richer than two oil-well cats, and before I gave her the ring.”

So that was the problem.… Connor wished there was an answer. “You can’t turn back time.”

“So we’ll spend the rest of our lives defending the charge I married her for her money.”

“You could not ask her.”

“I might as well slit my own throat.” Marsh smiled grimly. “Don’t fall in love, Connor. It’s not worth it. And what is the deal with that turtle?”

“I’m moving; I couldn’t exactly put it in storage.”

“You’ve had that thing since you were a rookie. You just don’t give away your only pet and not have people worry about you.”

“It was a turtle, Marsh, not a dog. And I figure if she didn’t want it the worst that would happen is that I’d have him back. The last thing I needed was to end up with
two
turtles.”

“A turtle. You couldn’t think of something like roses?”

Connor took the point but bit back a smile. “Marsh, she’s already got all the roses you can dream of, trust me on that.” He pushed away from the wall. “You want to hear the full story on Amy?”

Marsh sighed. “I think I’d better. Tracey cries for hours about her dad; tell her the truth about her sister and I don’t think she’ll talk to me again.…”

Chapter Eight

DANIEL SMILED at the younger sister sitting across from him at the table. “Have you settled on what you think yet, Tracey?” He’d been aware that her study of him had been going on throughout their Sunday lunch together, and he was curious as to its reason.

Tracey was more petite than Marie, her face noticeably younger, the brown eyes and the ash blonde hair she had cut to frame her face echoing a strong resemblance to her sister. Daniel liked this sister too; he liked her smile, her laughter, the way she could easily tease Marie out of feeling nervous, and he liked the fact she enjoyed talking casually about so many topics that he got a lot of information about his cousins just by tagging along with the flow. But the study was getting unnerving.

She rested her chin on her hand and studied him some more. “You played band in high school, junior year, trumpet, I think.”

He felt embarrassment start. “Of all the things you could have remembered, that one I could have done without.…”

“I had a crush on a high school football player; I was not even in junior high yet, but I went to all the games. You marched in those neat rows in those neat uniforms. I really do rarely forget a face, Daniel. But you had me stumped for a while.”

“What happened to the guy you had a crush on?”

She chuckled. “Married someone from the math club, I heard. But not before I sent him at least a couple anonymous Valentine’s Day cards.”

He laughed, wishing he’d been around to know her then. “I bet you were a fascinating kid to know.”

“Loyal to a fault and intensely romantic.” Tracey looked over at her sister. “Remember that trip to Chicago, when we talked our aunt into letting us go grown-up dress shopping? I thought she was going to have a heart attack when she saw the prom dress number I had picked out. Classic black and designed to make a guy forget where he was at.”

“You were dating Willard Graham back then if I remember correctly. No wonder that relationship broke up when you headed to college. You probably had him scared to death with visions of five kids and several dogs by the second date.”

Tracey smiled. “You have to admit, the tactic does shake off the weak-kneed pretty quickly.” She looked back at Daniel. “Did Marie tell you about the painting that was offered to the gallery? A classic Monet, for sale if she didn’t want to purchase it herself. All the publicity she’s having being the reason he thought she could get him the best price.”

Daniel glanced at Marie. “Lots of changes coming.”

“I recommended a dealer in New York. I might spring for better donuts and coffee for the browsers at the gallery, but I really don’t want to replace my current clients who might wear boots and construction coats with a set who want champagne and marble floors.”

“Judging a bit on appearances, I think, but I concede the point. There’s a comfort level the gallery has right now that would be a shame to lose.” He picked up his coffee. “I promised you both a tour of Henry’s home. Would you like to head over now? It’s worth the time if only to see how a prior generation solved some of those money decisions.”

Tracey glanced at Marie. “Yes, now would be a good time, Daniel.”

Late Sunday afternoon, Luke motioned Connor and Marsh toward his living room. The cops paused when they saw Sam already there but gamely entered the room and perched on the armrests of the easy chairs.

“Anything seem off with the sisters this afternoon? Anything to suggest Amy has called them?” Luke asked, looking between the two men as he took a seat on the couch.

“Marie teased me about getting her the turtle; she didn’t seem that distracted to me,” Connor replied, looking over at Marsh for his opinion.

“Tracey was enthralled with some waterfall she saw built in beside the fireplace in Henry’s living room—that’s pretty conclusive she wasn’t pondering very heavy thoughts,” Marsh agreed.

Luke looked at his watch. The news conference had been Friday morning; they were past fifty hours now. Amy had already made town—he was sure of it. If she was alive, she was here.

“She’ll call me, Luke,” Sam remarked.

“I hope so. Is there any way we can find her if she’s here and burrowing her way into town again? any pattern we can watch for? Names? Hotels? Anything that might be predictable?”

“I doubt she’s using a name I would know, and she’s a chameleon for how she changes up her behavior. Beyond someone spotting her near her sisters or the new cousin, there’s not much hope of figuring out where she would have settled into town.”

Connor ran his hand through his hair. “We’ve got to tell the sisters, Chief. We got through the weekend, but next week they are planning a private party for Tuesday night so friends can stop in and celebrate with them; Marie is talking about reopening the gallery for business; Tracey plans to head back to college toward the end of the week.…”

Luke knew it was necessary. “I’ll ask Daniel to arrange something for tomorrow around noon, down at the office, and we’ll break the news to the sisters then.” He looked over at Sam. “Do we have anything else out of New York?”

“Richard Wise is trying to run his organization from prison, but his grip is sliding. Most of those still around consider this old business best forgotten, and as for leaving New York—they aren’t in a hurry to do so. They go out of town right now, someone will use the opportunity to take their turf. But there are a few down in the ranks who would be of concern. I’ve got photos and names of the most likely dozen and a promise from New York to hear if they suddenly turn up missing from their normal haunts.”

“The wiretaps giving anything?”

“They know they are tapped and aren’t using the phones. I asked New York to probe. It’s a whispered legend that Amy Griffin took Richard’s money and got away with it. And they know the sisters have come into money. It’s not the fact they know I’m worried about—it’s what Richard Wise is still able to do about it. And that isn’t entirely clear.”