She suddenly sat up straight. “Do I need a lawyer? Does Daddy? He’s not in any state to talk to you.”
Oh, fuck.
“That’s up to you,” Emmy said, opening and closing cupboards in search of mugs. “But the powers that be are keen to avoid this becoming a circus, especially with the election coming up. Your father might have retired, but he’s still an influential figure.”
The change was instantaneous. Harriet Carnes went from nervous to angry in the time it took to thump her fist on the table.
“Of course, the damned election. We couldn’t possibly cause an upset, could we? Why do you think Dominique’s here in the first place?”
Emmy found cups rather than mugs and set them onto saucers. One, two, three, four. Stéphane looked as though he needed bourbon in his. He came across as a man who didn’t handle stress well. The way he fanned himself with his hand reminded Alaric of Bradley.
“You believe your father got the painting because he stood down?”
“No, not because he stood down.” Harriet’s voice dripped with bitterness. “Because she stood up.”
“She?”
“Kyla Devane.”
Was Harriet saying what Alaric thought she was saying?
“Are you suggesting Kyla Devane stole the painting?”
“Not personally. But if you think that my father suddenly acquiring his unicorn and Kyla Devane receiving his endorsement aren’t linked, you’re not much of a detective, are you?”
The kettle started whistling, and Alaric took over while Emmy turned the stove off.
“So you’re saying Devane, what, bribed your father with Red After Dark?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Alaric tried hard not to groan out loud. The curse had struck again. All he’d wanted was a nice, easy recovery, and now Red had landed him right in the middle of a brewing political scandal. This case was just one long Möbius strip of clusterfuckery.
He considered the possibilities. The easy option, the smart option, would be to excuse themselves back to the “office” and then have Ravi retrieve the painting later. They knew precisely where it was, and security appeared to be minimal. Or Alaric could call in real FBI agents. If they didn’t dither around, they could rescue Red before the senator breathed his last. So what was the problem? Well, neither of those alternatives got Alaric any closer to Emerald.
Which left option three.
“If that’s true, then Devane’s committed more than one crime. Handling stolen goods, bribery… President Harrison wants to stamp out corruption in politics, and if you helped to expose—”
Harriet cut Alaric off with a laugh. “You think Kyla got her hands dirty? Of course she didn’t. She may be a monster, but she’s not dumb.”
Emmy slid a cup of tea in front of Harriet, and no surprises, she’d managed to find cookies somewhere.
“You sound as though you’re speaking from experience. You’ve met Kyla?”
“Met her? I went to school with her. Ever seen the movie Mean Girls?”
Alaric hadn’t, but he could imagine what it was about. Fifty bucks said Emmy hadn’t watched it either.
But she nodded. “Kyla was one of them?”
“The queen bee. She always had to be the centre of attention, and if you crossed her, you’d pay. Senators are meant to be public servants. Kyla only serves herself.”
“I see.”
“Do you? If Kyla wins that senate seat, she’ll spend her entire term pushing legislation for her own benefit. Or perhaps for her friends, if she has any left.”
Carnes had resigned with almost five years remaining on his term. That gave Devane scope to do plenty of damage, and it wasn’t easy to oust a senator once they’d been elected. Like that guy from Vermont who’d won by a handful of votes in a low-turnout year, for example. He’d gone on vacation to California—with a twenty-year-old blonde who wasn’t his wife—and spawned a thousand internet memes when he punched a journalist in the face on Rodeo Drive. Still he refused to vacate his seat.
“Nobody commits a crime without a trace,” Emmy told Harriet. “If we follow the trail…”
“Oh, please. Kyla swept up afterwards, trust me on that. And even if she did miss a few breadcrumbs, the elections take place in two weeks. I’ve seen how slowly the FBI moves. Remember that psycho sending letter bombs to politicians nine years ago? Our housekeeper died, and you people took nearly a year to catch him.”
Hmm… How should they play this? Their FBI badges had opened the door, but now they were stuck in mud on the other side of the threshold. They needed to demonstrate they were on the same wavelength as Harriet. Convince her that they could work fast. The old man had to know something about Red’s origins, and if they caught him during one of his lucid periods…
Alaric opened his mouth to speak, but Emmy got in before him.
“Yeah, we’re not FBI agents.” Shit. What was she playing at? Her American accent had fallen by the wayside too. “We’re private investigators.”
Hegler spat out his tea. “But you said…”
“Actually, I never did.”
He pointed at Alaric. “He has a badge.”
“Five bucks on the internet. Pretty convincing, huh? I think they make them in China.”
Tea slopped into Harriet’s saucer as she pushed back her chair and stood, arms akimbo. “Get out of my house.”
Emmy sat down instead, nonchalant as she sipped her tea with one pinky extended. “Let’s talk instead.”
Alaric put his head in his hands and groaned. Emmy had that devious glint in her eye, and he realised she hadn’t mellowed with age, not one bit. This wasn’t going to be good.
CHAPTER 7 - ALARIC
“WHY ON EARTH would I want to continue this conversation? You just admitted you’ve lied to me.” Harriet glanced at her watch. “And I have a TV crew due here in half an hour. Somebody has to try and undo the damage my father did.”
Emmy dodged the question. “Kyla’s a devious bitch, yeah?”
“Didn’t I just say
