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“Good try,” Sam said. “Maybe Selma’s dug up something by now.”
Empty words. They both knew it. Selma would’ve called if she’d found anything.
“Silver lining,” Sam said.
“Is there?”
“We can take that vacation now.”
She gave a sigh, then smiled, disappointment evident in her eyes. “Let’s go home.”
As they started out, the second woman walked up to them, her voice low but pleasant. “I couldn’t help overhearing that you were looking for old ship manifests?”
“We are,” Sam replied.
“The Archives Department in Kingston was going to make them all digital, but the budget ran out. Lucky for us, we actually scanned a few before the money disappeared. One of the directors hoped to make some reproductions for the museum. Unfortunately, it’s only the copies right after the big quake.”
Remi looked hopeful. “After the quake? What years?”
“Sixteen ninety-three to sixteen ninety-six.”
“Please,” Remi said. “We’d love to have a look.”
Twenty-nine
Alexandra Avery and her hired PI, Kipp Rogers, watched across the street, waiting until they saw her husband’s car pull up to the front of his office building. About time, she thought, as he stepped out the door with his latest so-called client on his arm into the waiting car.
Kipp snapped a few photos. “Quite the looker, that one.”
“They always are.” How it was that Charles could date someone the same age as his daughter was beyond her. Then again, he’d never been close to his children, always preferring to leave them in the care of nannies when young, then boarding school when they were older. Alexandra always made a point to visit on weekends and talk on the phone. Charles embraced the distance, saying it built character.
And he wondered why it was they never spoke to him.
His loss, not hers.
“Better get to it,” Kipp said once the car drove off, then turned the corner.
She nodded. “I’ll call when I get into his office.”
“I’ll be here.”
She crossed the street and walked into the building. If Charles had the faintest idea of what she was about to do, he’d have her forcibly removed from the building. As it was, she’d made enough innocuous visits this last week to put them all off guard.
Everyone had come to think of her as an interfering, obnoxious, soon-to-be ex—which she was. In this instance, however, she had a perfectly good reason. Although she couldn’t put her finger on it, she knew her husband was up to something beyond his usual buying and stripping companies. Sure, he’d made his fortune from the practice, but the last decade or so she’d noticed he did it not only to stroke his ego but because he enjoyed seeing the lives destroyed after these onetime-thriving businesses were shredded to ruins.
It wasn’t that she was much better than he—after all, she married him for his money way back when. It was more that she’d grown somewhat of a conscience since then. Maybe because she’d seen what this lifestyle had done to her own children.
It would be nice to think that was her only motive, the children, but she knew better. There was also the threat of being completely cut off from the fortune he’d built during the time they were married—which is why she hired Kipp in addition to her legal team.
Fair was fair, and as long as she had a breath in her body, she was not about to let Charles get away with what rightfully belonged to her.
The challenge was making sure she still had a breath in her body, because the way he’d been acting lately, she wouldn’t put it past him to find some way to get rid of her just so he could keep his empire intact.
The first step, however, was finding proof that he was hiding something, and she knew without a doubt if anything was to be found it would be in his office.
She walked through the lobby, smiling at the security guard working the desk. He looked up, saw her, saying, “Your husband just left, Mrs. Avery.”
“He didn’t drop off my cell phone at the desk, did he?”