Chapter 8 #2
I lifted my chin. “I’ll tell you what. You give me three true facts about yourself, and I’ll pass your number along. She can choose whether or not to call you.”
Of course, Donna worked as a realtor here in town, and he could find her easily enough. She was in every third real estate ad from here to the county line. But maybe he didn’t know that. Then again, he had already read the local paper and recognized Jolene O’Sullivan.
He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I don’t think so. Sometimes the truth can be… how do you say? Elusive.”
“I disagree,” I said. “I pretty much find it to be truth or not truth.”
He studied me for a second, something flickering behind his calm. “That’s interesting. Is Donna the same way?”
“Absolutely. I learned it from her.”
“Hmm.” His smile edged toward a challenge. “We’ll see about that.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card, sliding it across my desk.
When had he moved close to my desk? I glanced down at the rectangle. “So you do have business cards?”
“Not really. That’s just where you can reach me.”
I picked it up to study a plain white card with nothing but a single phone number etched into the center. No name. No company. “Are you trying to be mysterious?”
He laughed, low and easy. “Of course not. Why would anybody want to be mysterious?”
I couldn’t quite put my finger on what he was doing, but whatever it was, it wasn’t being aboveboard.
“Please call me if anything breaks in the case,” he said.
I tapped the card on my desk. “Are you going to do the same?”
“Of course, Anna.” His voice softened, too smooth for my comfort. “I’d be happy to keep you in the loop. I believe your grandparents will be issuing a reward within the next hour or so, and I’ll find those boxes.”
I frowned. “I’m not sure there’s going to be a reward.”
“Oh, well. I could be wrong.”
Something told me he wasn’t. The certainty in his tone brushed against my nerves, a quiet hum beneath the words. I narrowed my gaze and studied him, trying to decide what kind of man smiled like that while dropping half-truths.
“Who exactly are you?”
“Cormac Coretti. You already know that.” He moved toward the door, graceful and calm.
Sometimes curiosity could be my bane. “Why can’t you tell me three true facts about yourself?”
He paused and then leaned a shoulder against the frame, his voice easy. “All right. My name is Cormac Coretti. That one’s true. I’m a freelancer but once worked for the government.”
It sounded like the truth, but I’d met enough liars to know charm could polish anything until it gleamed.
“And the third?” I asked.
He smiled, faint but deliberate. “I once held the Tiffany Diamond.”
I clasped my hands together. “You what?”
“The Tiffany Diamond,” he repeated. “Big, blazing, yellow gem. It’s stunning, really.”
I stared at him. “How did you hold it? To the best of my recollection, it’s only been worn in public four times in its entire existence.” Didn’t Audrey Hepburn wear it in a movie?
“Well, now,” he said lightly, “that’s another story.”
“Why don’t you tell it?” I asked softly.
“I was stealing it,” he said, almost too casually. “But I decided not to and left it in New York.”
Those words hung in the air, absurd, and maybe true.
“Those are your facts,” he said after a moment. “Please have your sister call me.” He winked, turned, and strode out of my office.
I stared at the empty doorway for several long seconds, tapping the edge of the plain white business card against my palm. Finally, I picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hi,” Donna answered. “I’m just about to sell a house. Any news on Nana’s shop?”
“Not exactly. I don’t know anything new, but Cormac Coretti was just here.”
She was silent for a few beats. “Was he?”
“Yeah. He wanted your number.”
“Did you give it to him?”
I stiffened. “Of course not. I’d never give someone your number without asking first. But he left his, if you’d like it.” I held my breath, finding myself halfway between sisterly loyalty and matchmaking curiosity. Donna deserved something fun, even if it came wrapped in mystery.
“No,” she said slowly. “If that man wants to find me, I think he can.”
“True that,” I said. “But if he does, are you going out with him?”
“Oh, Anna, please. He’s not going to ask me out.”
I wasn’t so sure.
“Gotta go,” she said, and the line clicked dead.
I set the receiver down and leaned back, letting out a slow breath. I’d done my job and warned her, more or less. That was enough.
A shadow crossed my doorway again. This time, it was Pauley.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello,” he replied. “Zippy O’Bellini is licensed to practice law in Oregon, Washington, and Idaho.”
That wasn’t rare. “Where is he based?”
Pauley glanced at the still burning vanilla candles. “He has his own firm in Hood River, just outside of Portland, Oregon.”
“Hood River,” I repeated. “Huh. Find anything else?”
“That’s what I have so far.”
Excellent. “Great. Can you dive into the public records there? See what kind of cases Zippy has taken? Also any in Idaho if he has practiced here.”
“Of course.”
I rolled my neck. “Did you find out anything about Cormac Coretti?”
Pauley hesitated, eyes flicking past me toward the window. “I found nothing. There’s absolutely no social media footprint for Cormac Coretti. None.”
“Nothing?” I repeated.
“Not yet.”
I drummed my fingers once against the desk. “Keep looking, and please check if anyone ever tried to steal the Tiffany Diamond.”
“Of course.” He didn’t ask why. Pauley rarely did. He just nodded and disappeared down the hall.
I looked at the card still sitting on my desk. Just a number with no name, no logo, nothing to tie it to anyone or anything.
Yeah, I liked that he’d given it to me and not Jolene. I liked that he seemed genuinely interested in my sister. But I didn’t like the secrets. Nobody with that much confidence should have zero online presence.
The candle flame flickered in the quiet, and I caught myself staring at it, wondering if he was friend or foe.
I really didn’t know.