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He yawned and plopped his feet back to the floor. “I’m hitting the hay. Be patient with Lucas. None of this with Caroline may happen anyway. My motto is don’t borrow trouble.”
She told him good night and rose with her laptop in her hands. She’d told Lucas she would need to raise Caroline if Kelly died. No wonder he was running the other direction.
She’d nearly reached her bedroom when she heard the sound of sobbing coming from Amelia’s room. In spite of her sister’s standoffishness, Carly couldn’t ignore her sister’s pain. She rapped her knuckles softly on the door. “Amelia? It’s me.”
“You can come in,” came the muffled reply.
Carly opened the door and crossed the dark room, illuminated only by the bit of moonlight streaming through the windows. She sat on the edge of the bed and touched her sister’s shaking shoulders. Dillard’s decision had swept through the family after dinner. “I’m so sorry, Amelia. I know you’re hurting. Have you talked to him any more?”
Amelia shook her head. “I tried, but he isn’t answering. What am I going to do, Carly? I didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but my business isn’t doing great. I can’t keep the house without Dillard’s income.”
“You can always stay with Gram and me. The house willbe done soon, and you could base your business here. The exterior is going to look amazing, and it’s bound to get you noticed in the area with so many historical homes. You’re so talented, Amelia. You’ll get through this.”
“You got through Eric’s death.” Her sister paused and sniffled. “Divorce is like a death. There’s rejection on top of it, but it’s still loss. I guess you had a double whammy, too, when you found out about Eric and Kelly. I haven’t been there for you like I should have, Carly. I’m sorry.”
When Amelia took her hand, Carly returned the pressure. “You’re going to be okay, Mel.”
She hadn’t called Amelia that in ages, ever since Dillard had sneered at her about it. Maybe some of Amelia’s distance had to do with Dillard. Whatever had caused it, Carly felt the walls start to crumble.
***
Carly hadn’t had much to say on the trip to Savannah to meet Elizabeth Durham. She and Lucas had brought Noah with them and had left Caroline with Carly’s sisters. On the hour-long drive, Lucas had turned up the radio and she let her thoughts wander to the situation with the egg. They stopped at Lucille Godwin’s antique shop, but it was closed for Memorial Day.
“Let’s try calling her,” she suggested. “There’s an after-hours number. Let me try. Another woman might get her to open up.” She didn’t wait for him to nod before she pulled out her phone and placed the call. She turned on the speakerphone.
It was answered on the third ring. “Lucille Godwin.” Thewoman sounded older, maybe sixty or so, but she had a lilt to her voice as if she didn’t mind the call at all.
“I know this will sound crazy, Ms.Godwin, but my name is Carly Harris. My husband was Eric Harris, and I know he spoke with you several times by phone. He was murdered about ten months ago. Could you tell me about those conversations?”
There was a long pause before she answered. “I remember your husband. He claimed to have a line on a missing Fabergé egg. He brought a world of trouble down on me, though. I made some inquiries about its possible value and had a couple of Russian men approach me wanting information. I had to call the police to get them to back off. They actually threatened me if I sold it to anyone.”
“I’m so sorry. Could you tell me anything about the men?”
“One was in his fifties with a bald head and hard blue eyes. He was bulky like he worked out. The other guy was younger and much skinnier, but he watched the door. I thought I heard him call the older man Dimitri, but I didn’t hear clearly.”
Carly exchanged a glance with Lucas. “Did they want to buy it?”
“That’s what they said. Did your husband really find a Fabergé egg? Did the Russians kill him?”
“We aren’t yet sure what happened. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Not really. The men scared me, though. You be careful, Mrs.Harris.”
“I’ll do my best.” Carly thanked her again and ended the call. “Well, that explains a lot. Eric found the provenance papers right off and knew all along what we had. He probably used that paper to get the advance money from Ivan Bury.”
“Makes sense.” Lucas started the engine and pulled away from the antique shop to head to the Durham residence. “Another thing it might explain is why nothing happened until you found the egg. Maybe the Russians assumed Eric had sold it to someone else. They likely have been watching you and didn’t see any evidence you knew anything.”
Had Dimitri killed Eric? She turned her head and looked out at the historic homes as he drove to the Durhams’ house and parked on the street.
Lucas turned off the engine. “Ready?”
She held out a shaking hand. “I’m nervous. What if it’s not her?” Maybe she should have argued harder to bring Gram along. Her grandmother had a way of calmly facing every situation.
“But what if it is?” He glanced toward the house, a two-story brick Federal style with a black staircase leading to the entry. Black shutters framed the mullioned windows. “Let’s find out.”
She got out and lifted Noah from his seat in the back. He’d fussed a bit until he’d fallen asleep, and when the sun hit his face, he opened his blue eyes and started to squawk again.
“I’ll take him. Those stairs are steep.” He lifted the baby from her arms, and Noah snuggled against him, his fingers curling into Lucas’s shirt.
