Chapter 11
Burke dropped the accordion folder containing the crown’s official certificate and bill of sale on the dining room table.
They’d successfully retrieved it from the bank, then got Victor home without incident.
He actually seemed calm on the boat ride.
That changed the moment they’d reached the island and he charged up the stairs and into the house.
Inside the door, he issued a warning not to be disturbed until he emerged from his nap.
Period. End of subject. He didn’t wait for disagreements, but moved equally as fast up to his bedroom.
And honestly, Burke was thankful for a break from the older gentleman, whose moods were as mercurial as a thermometer.
He turned his attention to Abby. She stood across the table, unloading the cooler she’d carried in that morning.
When he first spotted it, he’d thought it contained forensic supplies.
Not so. She’d thoughtfully brought lunch for the team, including him.
He couldn’t be more thankful. His adrenaline had abated, and he was starving.
“Okay.” She looked around the room where Gabe and Sam had joined them.
“I’ve got roast beef, ham, and turkey sandwiches, potato salad, chips, fruit, and cookies for dessert.
Before you’re impressed and think I somehow made all of this for you last night, Reece took care of food prep for us.
So have at it, and please thank her the next time you see her. ”
“If Reece made it, I’ll double my number of sandwiches for sure.” Gabe stepped up to the food, grabbed a plate in one hand, and a wrapped sandwich in the other.
“Reece and I know you, Gabe. Two sandwiches are your requirement.” Abby wrinkled her nose at him, then looked at Burke and Sam. “Feel free to have two as well.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Chuckling, Burke circled the end of the table.
“No way I can eat two and have a cookie,” Sam said. “And I definitely won’t miss out on one of Reece’s chocolate chunk cookies.”
Burke loaded his plate and had just settled in place when his phone rang, the call from Officer Mullen.
“You’re not going to like this,” she said, and her urgent tone led him to believe her. “The beached boat was reported stolen yesterday.”
Burke ripped open a roast beef sandwich. “So the boat registration won’t likely tell us anything.”
“Sounds doubtful, but I’d still be glad to check into it.”
“Much appreciated. Thank you.” He ended the call and shared the information with the team. “I’ll let you know when I get the registration details.”
Abby frowned. “But as you said, it’s likely a dead end unless the fingerprints prove the thief was related to the owner.”
Burke turned to Sam. “Do you know when you’ll be able to process the boat’s forensics?”
Sam set down her unwrapped sandwich. “I called in my assistant to help. She’s arriving this afternoon. I’ll give her instructions for the work here, then head back to the mainland to handle the boat. Depending on what I find, I should have it done today.”
“Perfect,” Burke said. “Thank you for being so flexible.”
“She always is.” Gabe’s expression resembled a parent’s look when their child had done well. He nodded at the file in front of Burke. “Those the documents from the bank?”
Burke nodded. “The crown appears to be the real deal, but I want to have the document authenticated for age.”
“I’m already ahead of you.” Dipping into the potato salad, Abby looked up. “Our team met last night and tasked Jude with finding an expert who can authenticate it. After our interviews with Sylvia and Ugo, I’ll give Jude a call.”
Burke was impressed with her initiative. He’d been bone tired when she left him last night, but she still managed to hold a team meeting. “Did you decide on anything else? I don’t want to replicate the work.”
She brought her plate to sit next to him.
“Hayden’s our computer guy. He’s searching for background information on Victor and Estelle.
Nolan will visit the nearest antique shop to find out who in the area might have the right connections to fence a high-priced antique like the crown. He’ll also ask about the locket.”
“He knows to be discreet and not mention the crown, right?” Burke popped open his bag of chips, being careful not to explode the chips all over the room.
“You can count on Nolan to be discreet.”
“I might be questionable,” Gabe said. “Not Nolan. He’s a professional through and through.” He laughed and shoved more of the sandwich into his mouth.
Abby reacted to his comment with a groan. “Reece is trying to find someone to date the torn velvet we found in the greenhouse.”
“Good,” Burke said. “This is all very helpful.”
“Why don’t I schedule an update video call with the entire team for three o’clock?” Abby asked. “We can find out if they’ve learned anything new.”
“Sounds great.” Burke met her gaze. “I really appreciate this, Abby. You have resources our department doesn’t have.”
She beamed with pride. “I’m not one to brag on myself, but I’ll be sure to stand behind what our team can do.”
“Yeah, man,” Gabe said. “We’re the equivalent of the Veritas Center for investigators.” He gave a mischievous grin and took a handful of potato chips.
Burke had been annoyed with this guy at first, but it was pretty hard to stay aggravated with someone who tackled life with such humor. He wanted to be more like Gabe. Maybe not as much of the sarcasm, but less of an intense approach to everything.
But the impact of his strict upbringing held him in check.
That’s why he was so drawn to law enforcement.
He liked the black-and-white rules and laws to abide by.
If a person violated them, they had to pay.
End of story. His other motivation—his brother Kyle’s overdose and death—also contributed to his career choice.
Stop. Don’t go there. Don’t dwell on the painful loss.
He grabbed the file and ignored the surrounding conversation about Blackwell Tactical. He would like to learn more about their organization, but finding immediate leads to locate the crown and keeping his job motivated him more.
Victor had given them permission to review his will, so Burke dug it out of the folder and laid it next to his plate. He alternated eating and reading. One cookie left to eat and he’d reached the end of the will.
At a break in the conversation, he swiveled toward Abby. “Victor’s will is pretty straightforward. Everything goes to his son, except for gifts of cash and specific collectibles to his daughter and grandchildren.”
Abby set her water bottle down. “He didn’t mention having grandchildren. Maybe the daughter knows about the will and feels like she’s not getting her share of the property. A perfect motive for stealing the crown.”
“Sounds plausible,” he said. “Of course the will doesn’t mention the crown, but one thing’s for sure. Unless Victor stole it, someone else must know about it.”
Abby gave him a thoughtful look. “Even if Vidal’s in the know, what motive would he have for stealing it when he would inherit it?”
“Maybe he needed the money now,” Gabe joined in the discussion.
“A good possibility,” Abby said. “When we meet with the team, I’ll ask Hayden to do a deep dive on Vidal too, including his finances.” She glanced at her watch. “We need to meet Sylvia and Ugo at the ferry. We should get going.”
“I’d like to scan their fingerprints before you do get started with them.” Sam dumped her plate into a garbage can.
“We’ll bring them to you in the library first thing,” Abby said.
“Thanks. And before you go, I should tell you that I think the samples of the oil in the hallway are gun oil.”
“Gun oil?” Burke looked at her. “How sure are you?”
“I can’t be one hundred percent certain until I analyze it, but I’m over ninety percent sure.”
Abby started packing leftovers into the cooler. “Why would someone have gun oil in the hallway?”
“If you’re a gun owner,” Gabe said, “it makes sense to use the oil, especially after cleaning or when stored in less-than-ideal conditions to protect it from rust.”
Abby paused, potato salad in hand. “Less-than-ideal, like the high humidity from a house located at the beach.”
“Exactly. But still, you don’t oil your gun in the hallway. Or at least I’ve never known anyone who does.”
Abby closed the cooler. “We need to ask Victor if he owns any firearms and go from there.”
“I can also determine how long the oil has been there,” Sam said. “It’s time-consuming, so it would be good to first determine if it’s an important lead and should take precedence over other items I recover.”
Burke appreciated her ability to look at forensics recovery and processing like a detective might and not just gather the evidence and believe it all had equal weight “Once you finish the scene, we can sit down and evaluate the evidence together to set priorities.”
Sam nodded and stepped out the door.
“I’m off to meet the ferry unless anyone else has questions,” Abby said.
Gabe picked up the bag of journals from the table. “I assume I’m still tasked with babysitting these for the rest of the day.”
“You are,” she said. “But if we keep them with us, you should be able to accompany us in many of our tasks.”
He dramatically swiped a hand over his forehead. “Thank goodness. Babysitting them all alone was like watching paint dry. I wanted to poke my eyes out by the time you got back.”
Abby laughed, and something in Burke’s chest twitched.
She got to him more than he would like. Not that he’d ever admit it.
Yeah, she was easy on the eyes for sure, but it was more than that.
She was sharp. Solid. Ethical. Just like him, always in control, always had a plan.
No drama. So why was he trying so hard not to feel anything?
Then her face came to mind. Tiffany. The one who screwed him up good. Messed with his head. He hadn’t let anyone close since then. He didn’t know if he could. Not again.
He shook himself from his daze and bolted out of the dining room to catch up with Abby. He caught up to her at the front door and held it open for her.
Outside, Burke scanned the area. Deputy Cunningham remained on duty at the crime scene tape, keeping a watchful eye on the ferry.
Burke kept tabs on the ferry, too, as they descended the remaining stairs.
A handful of people stood near the vessel’s back gate.
Three of them were young, two were older.
Had to be Sylvia and Ugo. From this distance, Burke couldn’t tell if they were eager or dreading their arrival.
With a nod of approval for his deputy, Burke held up the crime scene tape for Abby, and they slipped underneath. The ferry’s crew had secured heavy ropes to the dock and the tailgate groaned toward the dock.
The older couple hurried down the ramp. The woman was short and wide as if someone had pressed down on her when she was growing up.
Her hair was a warm shade of gray, and waves softly framed her face.
She wore black pants and a green rain slicker.
The guy, on the other hand, was tall and thin.
He had coal-black hair liberally laced with gray, and wore a similar slicker with brown pants.
Head down, she walked faster than he did, but he limped and seemed as if he was trying to keep up with her.
He suddenly grabbed her arm. They stopped.
She cupped a hand over her eyes, staring ahead.
She suddenly shook her head, then said something to him.
The pair turned and bolted back toward the ferry.
“What in the world?” Abby blinked rapidly. “I was sure that was Ugo and Sylvia. Why would they be turning back?”
A good question. One Burke intended to answer before the ferry departed with them on board. Even if the couple weren’t Victor’s workers, they had to have a reason for laying eyes on the bright yellow tape fluttering in the breeze and the uniformed officer standing guard, then reversing course.
“Come on,” he said to Abby. “People don’t run away unless they have something to hide, and we need to find out exactly what they don’t want the police to know.”