on that.” He pushed away from the wall. “You want to hear the full story on Amy?”
Marsh sighed. “I think I’d better. Tracey cries for hours about her dad; tell her the truth about her sister and I don’t think she’ll talk to me again…”
Chapter Eight
DANIEL SMILED at the younger sister sitting across from him at the table. “Have you settled on what you think yet, Tracey?” He’d been aware that her study of him had been going on throughout their Sunday lunch together, and he was curious as to its reason.
Tracey was more petite than Marie, her face noticeably younger, the brown eyes and the ash blonde hair she had cut to frame her face echoing a strong resemblance to her sister. Daniel liked this sister too; he liked her smile, her laughter, the way she could easily tease Marie out of feeling nervous, and he liked the fact she enjoyed talking casually about so many topics that he got a lot of information about his cousins just by tagging along with the flow. But the study was getting unnerving.
She rested her chin on her hand and studied him some more. “You played band in high school, junior year, trumpet, I think.”
He felt embarrassment start. “Of all the things you could have remembered, that one I could have done without…”
“I had a crush on a high school football player; I was not even in junior high yet, but I went to all the games. You marched in those neat rows in those neat uniforms. I really do rarely forget a face, Daniel. But you had me stumped for a while.”
“What happened to the guy you had a crush on?”
She chuckled. “Married someone from the math club, I heard. But not before I sent him at least a couple anonymous Valentine’s Day cards.”
He laughed, wishing he’d been around to know her then. “I bet you were a fascinating kid to know.”
“Loyal to a fault and intensely romantic.” Tracey looked over at her sister. “Remember that trip to Chicago, when we talked our aunt into letting us go grown-up dress shopping? I thought she was going to have a heart attack when she saw the prom dress number I had picked out. Classic black and designed to make a guy forget where he was at.”
“You were dating Willard Graham back then if I remember correctly. No wonder that relationship broke up when you headed to college. You probably had him scared to death with visions of five kids and several dogs by the second date.”
Tracey smiled. “You have to admit, the tactic does shake off the weak-kneed pretty quickly.” She looked back at Daniel. “Did Marie tell you about the painting that was offered to the gallery? A classic Monet, for sale if she didn’t want to purchase it herself. All the publicity she’s having being the reason he thought she could get him the best price.”
Daniel glanced at Marie. “Lots of changes coming.”
“I recommended a dealer in New York. I might spring for better donuts and coffee for the browsers at the gallery, but I really don’t want to replace my current clients who might wear boots and construction coats with a set who want champagne and marble floors.”
“Judging a bit on appearances, I think, but I concede the point. There’s a comfort level the gallery has right now that would be a shame to lose.” He picked up his coffee. “I promised you both a tour of Henry’s home. Would you like to head over now? It’s worth the time if only to see how a prior generation solved some of those money decisions.”
Tracey glanced at Marie. “Yes, now would be a good time, Daniel.”
Late Sunday afternoon, Luke motioned Connor and Marsh toward his living room. The cops paused when they saw Sam already there but gamely entered the room and perched on the armrests of the easy chairs.
“Anything seem off with the sisters this afternoon? Anything to suggest Amy has called them?” Luke asked, looking between the two men as he took a seat on the couch.
“Marie teased me about getting her the turtle; she didn’t seem that distracted to me,” Connor replied, looking over at Marsh for his opinion.
“Tracey was enthralled with some waterfall she saw built in beside the fireplace in Henry’s living room-that’s pretty conclusive she wasn’t pondering very heavy thoughts,” Marsh agreed.
Luke looked at his watch. The news conference had been Friday morning; they were past fifty hours now. Amy had already made town-he was sure of it. If she was alive, she was here.
“She’ll call me, Luke,” Sam remarked.
“I hope so. Is there any way we can find her if she’s here and burrowing her way into town again? any pattern we can watch for? Names? Hotels? Anything that might be predictable?”
“I doubt she’s using a name I would know, and she’s a chameleon for how she changes up her behavior. Beyond someone spotting her near her sisters or the new cousin, there’s not much hope of figuring out where she would have settled into town.”
Connor ran his hand through his hair. “We’ve got to tell the sisters, Chief. We got through the weekend, but next week they are planning a private party for Tuesday night so friends can stop in and celebrate with them; Marie is talking about reopening the gallery for business; Tracey plans to head back to college toward the end of the week…”
Luke knew it was necessary. “I’ll ask Daniel to arrange something for tomorrow around noon, down at the office, and we’ll break the news to the sisters then.” He looked over at Sam. “Do we have anything else out of New York?”
“Richard Wise is trying to run his organization from prison, but his grip is sliding. Most of those still around consider this old business best forgotten, and as for leaving New York-they aren’t in a hurry to do so. They go out of town right now, someone will use the opportunity to take their turf. But there are a few down in the ranks who would be of concern. I’ve got photos and names of the most likely dozen and a promise from New York to hear if they suddenly turn up missing from their normal haunts.”
“The wiretaps giving anything?”
“They know they are tapped and aren’t using the phones. I asked New York to probe. It’s a whispered legend that Amy Griffin took Richard’s money and got away with it. And they know the sisters have come into money. It’s not the fact they know I’m worried about-it’s what Richard Wise is still able to do about it. And that isn’t entirely clear.”
“The shooter they think killed the boyfriend-he’s on the list?”
“Still alive, in his fifties, and semiretired from the business as best the cops can tell. Richard Wise went to jail, and the others in the organization weren’t eager to take on the guy’s services-afraid not only that he knows too much but that age might be making him sloppy and more likely to get caught. And he’s probably got his own reasons for wanting a quieter life right now-the cops would love to convict him of at least seven hits they think he was involved with; he’s staying out of the business for a reason.”
“Amy was at the scene of that shooting; she could identify him.” She’d never said that when giving her version of events, but Luke had read the report. A lady had been in the car and had been seen being chased from the scene: Amy. She’d seen her boyfriend murdered and been lucky to escape that night alive. “If they want to make a case against him, an eyewitness to a hit is a nice place to start. Tell New York he’s at the top of our list for news of his movements. He’ll have the most cause to want her dead.”
“I’ll convey it.”
He could keep the two sisters alive if he surrounded them with enough security, but it was an open-ended problem. They had to figure out how to end this for good. They needed Amy alive and well and able to finally testify and put away those who were a threat to herself and her family. Any other route just left the sisters open targets.
He looked at Connor. “What else has happened since the news conference that might be trouble?”
Connor grimaced. “The tabloid reporters are getting aggressive. They tried to stop the car Marie and Tracey
