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Carly trailed her with her father and Emily in tow. “Where’s your mom, Isabelle?”
She shrugged but her blue eyes glistened. “She left with a new boyfriend, and I don’t know where she is. She doesn’t answer her phone.”
Carly gasped and put her hand to her throat. Her dad was dropping Isabelle off like an unwanted puppy and taking off?
***
Lieutenant Bernard Clark handed Lucas his gun. “You’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing in the discharge of your weapon.”
Lucas holstered his firearm with a strong sense of relief. “That was fast.”
Bernard shrugged his brawny shoulders. His hair had been tamed by his hat and was a sleek cap on his big head. He’d always reminded Lucas of a resting lion with his wild blond hair and massive build. His retirement was coming up in six months, and the whole squad would hate to lose him.
“No more questions?” Lucas asked.
“It was straightforward. Finding out the deceased’s connection to the Russian mob helped.”
The tantalizing aroma of good coffee drew Lucas to the counter along the wall. He poured himself a mug of coffee from the beverage bar. No burned sludge here. Bernard bought his own gourmet coffee and brought it into his office. He used a Cuisinart coffee maker and had real cream in the small fridge nearby, all paid for with his own money. Even the mugs were good-quality ones that he personally washed at the end of the day.
“Bring me one, too, if you don’t mind.”
Lucas poured a second cup and added a generous dollop of cream before carrying it to his boss. Once he handed it over, he dropped into a chair and blew into the coffee. “Speaking of the mob, anything new on the investigation?”
“Not much yet. We found out more info on the deceased. She’s Czechoslovakian and moved to Russia with her parents when she was ten. Original spelling of her last name was Druzd, but she Americanized it when she came here at age twenty. Her connections with Smirnov go back to Russia. Detectives found her prints at two burglaries in Queens they suspected Smirnov of orchestrating.”
“And the murders connected to Smirnov?”
“She’s a possible suspect for them, too, but we have no real evidence beyond her prints. For all we know, she handled getting inside and let him in to do the deed.”
Lucas took a sip of his coffee. “But why would she be rummaging around in Mary Tucker’s attic? Beaufort is a world away from New York.” Had the investigation turned up anything about the Fabergé egg?
“We have no idea. Mary claims not to have anything of incredible value up there but antiques. All told, her granddaughter thought the items might bring in twenty grand. Hardly enough to interest a drug dealer who could bring in that in an hour.”
So Carly had kept quiet about the egg too. What did Lucas do here? It was a dilemma he needed to discuss with her.
He drank the last of his coffee and stood. “I’ll get out of here and let you get back to work. I want to take a look at the case notes.”
Bernard was already lost in his computer files again. Lucas went down the hall to his own office and started to enter, then changed course and headed outside. The first order of business needed to be persuading Carly to officially tell the police about the egg. It was safe in the bank.
He drove his pickup to her house and frowned at the strange vehicle still in her driveway. He’d noticed it an hour ago when he left. Looked like a rental car from the airport, but she hadn’t mentioned any impending visitors.
He parked in his own drive and went across the lawn to the Tucker house, dodging under the angel tree in the front. As he neared, he spotted Carly on the porch with little Noah on her lap, cooing at the cat. Was she crying? Her eyes were red, and he was sure he heard sniffling. Probably her sisters again.
He picked up the pace and headed up the steps. “Hey there.”
She kept her face down. “Good morning. Gram’s got coffee and tea inside.”
Her husky voice was a dead giveaway. Lucas settled on the Adirondack chair beside the swing. “What’s going on?”
She lifted a blotchy face. “My dad showed up at midnight last night. He waltzed in here to tell me to take care of my half sister, Isabelle. No phone call, no request, just a demand.” She dabbed at her eyes with a burp cloth. “It’s silly to be so upset, but it just brought home what a doormat I am. I didn’t argue or even get mad. Dad hasn’t bothered with any of us girls since he remarried. He took off after Mom died and never looked back. This is only the third time I’ve laid eyes on Isabelle. He’s never bothered trying to integrate his two families at all.”
She dabbed her face again. “It’s probably just baby blues. I should want to help—and I do. After all, she’s the sister I don’t really know. Maybe she will love me when my other two don’t.”
“What’s up with those sisters of yours anyway? They’re spoiled brats.”
“I did it.” She glanced at him with reddened eyes. “Dad’s desertion hit us all hard. I wanted to make it up to them, and I did too much. They were never held accountable for anything, and it shows.”
“Surely it took more than that. They’re downright nasty to you.”
