“Did he say who meets in their upstairs offices at two a.m.?” she asked.
Andreas wiggled his brows. “He did, but section 310 prevents me from sharing it.”
“Section 310? Can you at least tell me what that is?”
He leaned in and whispered, “The Official Secrets Act.” The wrinkles on his cheeks curved, then bounced back like power lines after a murder of crows took flight. His short-lived smile was gorgeous. “But I can share public information,” he said.
“Sneaky.I approve. Go on.”
“For example, the consulate strictly holdsallofficial appointments during French business hours. Says so on their website.”
“So any meeting that late was unofficial. Maybe with someone in a different time zone?”
The shadow under his lower lip deepened. His brow furrowed as his head tilted. This sort of hesitant frown was how the Viennese confirmed you were correct. Like you’d squeaked by on a technicality, and they didn’t like it one bit.
“So,” said Andreas, slapping his knees to change the subject. He rounded his back, stretching, sliding his hands forward. His fingertip grazed her knee. He left it there.
Her thighs clenched.
He leaned in. “Sterling,” he whispered.
“Yes?”
“We’re not done talking about Hedy.”
He slid aside and stood.
She rose, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt. “What else do you need?”
“The tox screen showed cyanide killed them, but David was dosed with ketamine. Did Hedy often drug her clients?”
“I can’t say, but she’d do anything to get what she wanted.”
“Did she want David’s bracelet?”
“Doubtful. She could have convinced any client to buy her one with a single kiss.”
“Apart from the robbery, this looks like a murder-suicide. There’s pressure on us to declare it one.”
“From who?”
“The commissioner. I suspect the Goldfinch family wants to avoid an investigation into their financial records.”
“Have some compassion, Andreas, they’re grieving parents. Would you want your privacy violated during your darkest moment?”
“I’d want justice for my son, no matter the cost. There’s no justice in suicide.”
“Suicide wouldn’t have been Hedy’s style. No way she knew her flask was poisoned. Though it could have been—”
Sterling cut herself off.
“Could have been what?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
He came closer. She tried to step out of the way, but he placed his arm against the wall, blocking her path. “What?”
With her widest doe eyes, she said, “Nothing. You’re right, she probably wanted the bracelet.”
