Chapter Seventeen #2
“I don’t know. My grandmother never said.”
“When did your grandmother leave Cuba?” Luke asked.
“1966. She went to Spain. She had a cousin who lived in Madrid. My parents left with my grandparents as well. I was born in Spain years later. My family settled in Spain, had as good of a life there as anyone could have, considering all that they’d been through.
They were determined to build a home for themselves even after Fidel had stolen the one they had. ”
The passion in Adriana’s voice was clear, her anger ringing through in a way that reminded Margo of Natalia Evans. First impressions went a long way in her business, and Margo’s impression of Adriana was she was being honest with everything she told them.
“ A Time for Forgetting wasn’t particularly valuable, I don’t think—at least, from a monetary perspective—but it represented a promise from my family,” Adriana added. “I wanted to see if I could find it.”
“And return it to Eva’s family?” Luke asked.
Adriana nodded. “I know it probably seems silly. Ever since my parents died, I’ve been interested in learning more about our history, our past. My husband is wonderful, and I love living in Scotland, but he’s Scottish and our life is here.
I suppose I thought this would be a way to learn more about my family, to feel a connection to my Cuban heritage—one I could share with my children.
We’re planning a trip to Cuba together so that we can all learn more and scatter my parents’ ashes.
It’s what they would have wished. We’ve been wanting to go for years, but with everything that’s happened in the world and the fact that it hasn’t been the easiest time in the restaurant business, we haven’t been able to set aside enough money until now.
I suppose I had this fantasy of looking up Eva Fuentes’s family when I was there and returning the book to them.
It felt like a way of things going full circle. ”
Luke leaned forward. “Did you tell anyone about this plan?”
“Just my family. Well, and I spent some time on a Cuban message board connecting with others who were studying their history and genealogy. It was helpful to me to speak to others who were doing similar research.” She smiled.
“My family teases me about how much I’ve gotten hooked by the whole thing.
When I hired your firm, they were sure I’d gone too far.
I think it helped at least that it was Mitch, and we trusted him.
But I promised them that if it took more than Mitch’s initial fee of two thousand pounds, I’d give up. ”
Given the figure she quoted, Margo had a feeling Mitch had given Adriana the friends and family discount. Two thousand pounds a case wasn’t paying the rent in Luke’s swanky office building.
“Is there anyone who stood out to you when you were on the message boards?” Luke asked. “Anyone who seemed strange or overtly interested in A Time for Forgetting ?”
“No.”
“I know you said that you thought you were the only one who was looking for it in your family, but could there be anyone else? Maybe Eva Fuentes’s family?”
“I didn’t get the impression that she had children or much family.
I always figured that was how my great-grandmother ended up with the book.
Because they became close after their experience at Harvard.
I don’t know why they lost touch or what happened to Eva Fuentes. She’s certainly passed on by now.”
“I wouldn’t post on the message board anymore,” Luke cautioned. “And if you can share everything you have on it with me, usernames of accounts you corresponded with, that would be helpful.”
“Is something wrong?” Adriana asked.
Luke hesitated. “I reached out to a bookseller in London—a Mr. Thornton—when I was hired to find A Time for Forgetting. He had a knack for tracking down books that are impossible to find. Someone broke into his shop two nights ago and killed him.”
Adriana paled. “How horrible. I’m so sorry.”
“We think he was killed because of A Time for Forgetting ,” Margo interjected.
“How is that possible? I don’t understand what it is about the book that would make someone kill for it. My grandmother never gave me any indication that the book was dangerous. If me asking about the book somehow put him in danger—I’ll do whatever I need to. I’m happy to talk to the police.”
“Thank you,” Margo replied. “I’ll give you the detectives’ contact information.
They think it might have been a robbery, but we were supposed to meet in the shop.
He was planning on telling me what he had discovered in his research.
I found him there, and right before he died, he warned me to be careful. He told me, ‘They want the book.’?”
“Who is ‘they’?” Adriana asked.
“I have no idea. His murder isn’t the only suspicious thing that has happened recently. My office was broken into. And a man has been following me.”
“Have you noticed anyone following you?” Luke asked Adriana. “Has there been anything suspicious?”
“No, not that I can think of. I’m sorry, I just can’t imagine this happening over a book.”
“Be careful,” Luke warned. “It looks like the copy your family had is the only copy. And someone wants it badly enough to kill for it.”
—
“What did you think of Adriana Josephs?” Luke asked Margo as they left The Red Bull.
She waited beside Luke on the sidewalk as he flagged a cab to take them to the airport.
“I liked her,” Margo commented. “You were right—I don’t think she’s behind Mr. Thornton’s death or the break-in at my office. I just don’t see a motive.”
“I agree. Everyone says that the book isn’t objectively valuable. It’s not like it is a first edition of a classic novel. The market of people who it means something to is relatively small.”
“Yes. So, what’s significant about the book? Maybe Eva wrote something in it that someone doesn’t want getting out,” Margo suggested.
“If that’s the case, then this piece of information, whatever this secret is, is now over one hundred and twenty years old. No one who was alive back then is even around now. We’re talking a generation or two removed. Who is willing to kill for a secret that old?”
“I don’t know.” Margo sighed. “We’re missing something.”
“We’re missing a lot. We need to figure out who your client is.
I put some feelers out on William Greer.
I haven’t heard back yet, but I’m going to run that down, too.
Now that we’ve ruled out Adriana Josephs, the only person who is unaccounted for is your mysterious client.
So how are they involved in all of this? And who are they?”
“I don’t want to wait a week to hear from Oliver Reston,” Margo said.
“I want to go to the library in Boston and check out the Reston Brothers Publishing records myself. A Time for Forgetting was published by a Boston publisher for a reason. It was written in English for a reason. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the book was published a year after Eva Fuentes studied at Harvard. ”
“Then let’s go to Boston.”
—
Edinburgh Airport was busy when they arrived.
They’d managed to get tickets on the first British Airways flight to Logan with a quick layover at Heathrow.
Thankfully, Margo was a habitual over-packer, and she’d packed a few extra pairs of clothes in her suitcase for the journey up to Edinburgh and had her passport with her.
Luke left Margo to grab coffees for both of them, and she sat in the waiting area catching up on emails she’d missed. Despite telling Bea not to worry about getting involved in the case, Bea was Bea, so she’d emailed Margo information on the summer school.
Luke walked toward her, his mobile pressed to his ear, a cardboard coffee tray in hand with their respective cups. He wordlessly handed the tray to her, and then turned away, his gaze out the airport window, staring at the plane at the gate as he continued his conversation.
Luke said goodbye to whoever he was talking to and walked over to her.
“Sorry about that. I was talking to one of my old detective colleagues. Boyers—do you remember him?”
She shook her head.
“I have some information on your Mr. Greer.”
“What did you find out?”
“He’s American. Born in Delaware. He went to West Point. He was a Green Beret. He left the army as a captain and started working for a private security firm. He’s never been married. No kids.”
“What’s the name of the security firm?”
“Flintrock. Guess where they’re based?”
“Boston?”
Luke nodded.
“Does Flintrock have much of an online presence?”
“No, pretty much what you would expect. It’s discreet. Looks expensive. A list of clients would be helpful, but unfortunately, they didn’t give us that. If I had to guess, I bet they cater to an international clientele.”
“We could go by their offices when we’re in Boston,” Margo suggested.
“I don’t know how much success we’ll have, but we can try.
Boyers gave me some intel on the investigation of Mr. Thornton’s death, too.
It sounds like they’re still pursuing this robbery-gone-bad lead.
They arrested one of the guys in the bakery robbery and are questioning him about Mr. Thornton’s case. ”
“Seriously? After everything we’ve shared with them?”
“I know. I understand your frustration. Believe me. But nine times out of ten, if a wife is killed, the husband was behind it. If a shop was broken into, it’s a robbery.
Most police work has a very simple explanation.
The complicated cases, the strange, random ones, are rare.
It’s Occam’s razor—they’re looking for the simplest explanation, and chasing a mysterious book halfway around the world doesn’t fit with that. ”
“I get that. Doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”