Chapter 9
Burke settled the journals in the safe for Sam to process.
The only thing he could believe from Victor’s story was that the safe combination was a secret and only Victor knew it.
Everything else the guy claimed—like not putting the journals in the safe—was out of the question until they had facts to prove otherwise.
He met Victor’s troubled gaze. “Head back to the dining room, and we’ll be right in to finish our questioning.”
Victor’s eyes creased into slits. “It feels like you’re looking for a way to accuse me of some crime. Maybe I shouldn’t answer your questions.”
Abby gave him a placating smile. “We’re just trying to get to the truth. Nothing more. Nothing less. If you answer truthfully and don’t withhold other secrets like the safe, you’ll be fine.”
He curled his fingers into his hair, looking like he wanted to pull it out. “I told you. I didn’t hide the safe from you. I just didn’t think of it. You both seem like reasonable people. Why can’t you give me the benefit of the doubt?”
Burke shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not something we do in an investigation. We have to go by verifiable facts.”
“I can understand that. Doesn’t mean I like it. I’ll await your further questioning in the dining room.” He stomped down the hall, moving faster than Burke had seen him go.
Trailing Victor, Abby glanced at Burke, frustration clouding her eyes. “I don’t have a clue if Estelle’s journals can help us find the crown. But if you couple it with her necklace in the greenhouse, someone trying to dig it up last night could mean the journals are related to the theft.”
“Seems possible to me,” Burke said. “But it could be as simple as Estelle knowing the safe combination and that Victor would never open it, so she stored them there for privacy.”
Abby peered over her shoulder at the end of the hallway. “Hopefully any fingerprints Sam lifts from the safe will prove that.”
Burke nodded and looked around the library. Victor had already exited, and Sam was dusting another window lock.
She looked up, brush stilled in midair. “Victor didn’t look happy when he raced through here.”
“He’s not.” Burke told her about the journals. “I left them in the safe for you to process and take into evidence. They need to be secured at all times. I don’t want Victor anywhere near them.”
With a toss of her head, Sam flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. “That could be a challenge. I don’t have a vehicle to lock them in like I usually do. Maybe Victor has a room where we can secure them.”
Abby shook her head. “We could never be confident he doesn’t have a key.”
“Then, the only way to secure them is to watch them all the time,” Burke said.
“We’ll get Gabe to do it,” Abby said.
“Perfect solution.” Burke met Sam’s eyes. “Be sure to let us know if you find anything else out of the ordinary.”
“Will do.”
He moved into the foyer with Abby. The strong, musty scent the house oozed seemed to get stronger.
“Now that we have the journals, I’d like to hold back some of our questions for Victor until after we’ve had a chance to read them.
We’ll keep the locket, velvet scrap, and the person in the greenhouse to ourselves. ”
Abby cast him an appraising look. “You think the journals might give us reason to suspect him of harming her?”
“The more time we spend with him, the more I think anything’s possible.”
“Which means you also think he could’ve participated in the crown’s theft.” She fell silent for a moment, their footfalls echoing off the high ceiling. “I’m leaning that way, too, but I don’t have a clue what his motive is.”
“He could be trying to frame someone to get them out of his life.”
“It’s conceivable, but it’s a bit far-fetched, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps, but we need to keep all avenues open.”
“Maybe he told his son about it,” she said. “And he’s threatening to give it back to France. Victor doesn’t want that to happen, but he can’t take it with him, so he’s selling it.”
“Then why call us?”
“So his son believes it was stolen.”
“Could be.”
She stopped outside the closed dining room door. “I’ll go along with you wanting to withhold information and questions for now.”
Glad she saw his reasoning, he gave an affirmative nod. “I’ll take lead again, if you don’t mind.” He waited for her look of agreement.
She frowned instead. “I’m fine with that, but I have a recommendation.”
The last thing he wanted at the moment was to be told how to do his job, but he’d promised to keep an open mind with her. “Go ahead.”
“Dial it down a notch. Be less aggressive. Try to empathize with him.”
Her comment didn’t surprise him, but… “You were pretty hard-nosed as a sheriff. Seems like you’ve changed. Why?”
She rested her hands on her hips and stared up at him.
“It’s not like I made a conscious decision to change.
I was under a lot of pressure as a sheriff to succeed.
That hasn’t changed. I still have intense pressure.
How could I not when lives often depend on us?
But it’s different. I don’t have a whole county watching and judging me.
Just myself and my peers. So I’ve relaxed.
Let go of the need to please others and feel more free to be myself. ”
He understood, but who was the real Abby? Was she this softer, more compassionate version or was it all an act? He didn’t know, and he didn’t like the uncomfortable feeling that left behind. But it wasn’t the time to get into it. Now was the time to get some answers.
He opened the door for her, then followed her into the room.
Looking bored, Gabe remained seated in the chair at the end of the long table.
Victor sat to his immediate right, his face tight and angry.
Directly across from him, Abby settled on one of the chairs and offered Victor a pleasant smile as if she was trying to soften him up.
Burke would follow her suggestion and take the kinder, gentler approach.
He dropped onto the chair next to her. “When we checked the basement door locks, we found a set of footprints on the path outside. They’re small, like a woman’s or a small man, and lead away from the house. Who might’ve used this exit?”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “No one, as far as I know. Who would even want to go down there?”
“Who has keys to that door?” Abby asked.
“You know I do, but also Ugo and Sylvia. As far as the footprints go, if it was one of them, that’s more likely Sylvia’s size. But I can’t imagine why they would want to exit that way.”
Burke could. “Perhaps they wanted to remove something from the house and didn’t want you to know about it.”
“I highly doubt it, but let’s say they did. Why bother when they could take things out the front door every time I go upstairs to nap? Which I do every afternoon for several hours. I have to trust them to be honest, and I do.”
So if they knew about the crown, they could easily have stolen it. Burke needed more details about them. “They’ve worked here a long time. How and when did they start?”
“Ugo began working for our family in France, then came to Oregon with me. Sylvia was recommended to us shortly after we moved here, and she started then. And as I’ve said, they’ve been loyal servants for so long and haven’t given me a moment’s hesitation. I trust them implicitly.”
Burke could never be so trusting. Sure, the servants were like family to Victor and had never done anything to betray his trust. Burke and Tiffany had been together five years before their engagement, and there had never even been a hint that she would betray him.
Then out of the blue she falls in love with his partner.
Seriously? His own partner. In his opinion, if a person could betray someone they were in love with, much worse could happen between employer and employee.
Even ones who’d been together for so long.
“We plan to interview them when they arrive this afternoon,” Abby said. “We can ask about it then.”
“Good.” Victor lifted his chin, an action he was coming to associate with him. “I know they’ll put your mind at ease, and I’m sure they’ll help you realize I’m not the monster you’re trying to portray me as.”
Burke didn’t really think Victor was a monster, but he still hadn’t ruled him out as a suspect. “We also located oil spilled on the floor in your secret hallway. Any idea what type of oil it could be?”
“No idea. Not something I put there.” He’d said he didn’t use the hallway before, so that wasn’t a surprise.
“I also wanted to ask about the missing paintings in the foyer,” Burke said. “The discolored wallpaper says they’d hung there for a long time.”
“They belonged to my great-grandfather. He commissioned an artist in the late 1800s to paint them. He had them made for his own enjoyment, but then the artist became famous. Now they’re valuable, but nothing like a Monet.”
“What happened to them?”
Victor rested his cane on the chair and planted his hands on the arms. “Again, I don’t know what this has to do with the missing crown.”
“If you sold the paintings because you needed money, maybe you still do and are running some sort of scam involving the crown.”
Victor gritted his teeth. “I don’t need the money. If you don’t believe me, Ugo can show you my latest bank statements when he gets here.”
Burke would definitely review those statements. “If you didn’t sell the paintings, then what happened to them?”
“Estelle brought her personal maid with her from France,” Victor said.
“Dominique had been with her since childhood, but she couldn’t adapt to the Oregon lifestyle.
Less than a year here, she gave in to her homesickness and went back to France.
Estelle wanted to recognize her many years of service, and Dominique really enjoyed those paintings, so we agreed to give them to her. ”
Another logical explanation and one they should be able to prove or disprove. “Can you provide her contact information so we can confirm your story?”