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Savich didn’t want to ask her, but he knew he had to. It was a part of this mad mix. “Rebekah, have you ever thought your grandfather might have been involved in the death of his friend Nate Elderby?”
“What?” Rebekah sat back, her eyes wide on Savich’s face. “My grandfather? No, no. He wasn’t, he couldn’t have been. He wasn’t that kind of man.” She calmed and drew a deep breath. “I wish I had some of Zoltan’s tea about now. Listen, Agent Savich, I was a little kid when Nate Elderby drowned in 1995, but I remember Grandfather was very upset, pacing around his study, tears in his eyes, cursing Nate. Thinking back, he really was distraught.
“You’re checking into his death since he may have been Grandfather’s accomplice in this Big Take. With one thief murdered, the other thief gets everything? No, even as young as I was I remember his grief vividly. There was something snarky about Nate that Grandfather said in the séance. But that’s stupid. It was Zoltan who made that snark up, not Grandfather.”
Kit said, “If Rebekah’s grandfather did murder his best friend, for gain or for some other reason, what does it matter now? I mean, there’s no one left to prosecute. It happened years ago. Who would care now?”
Savich said, “I’ve learned that violence in the past has a way of forcing itself into the present.” He suddenly thought of the puzzle pieces, of St. Lumis. Could Cinelli be in danger?
Rebekah said, “Nate Elderby’s wife would care, wouldn’t she?”
Everyone in the living room turned when they heard the front door open. Savich’s cell beeped an incoming message. He stared down at a photo sent by Agent Pippa Cinelli.
