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She jerks her thumb at my murder board.
“My investigation,” I say.
“You know this makes you look like that crazy chick from Homeland, right?”
“Well, I got a lead,” I say. “I talked to Carl Fillion today.”
“The guy who embezzled from Everton?”
“The very same.”
Now she looks interested. “And?”
“His alibi was bullshit. But he claims he has another one. Noah is checking it out.”
Von folds her arms across her chest. “If the Keystone Cop finds something, the family deserves to know. You need to keep me in the loop. I have connections now, remember? I’m not some wide-eyed law student anymore.”
“You’re a corporate criminal defense lawyer,” I say dryly. “You work for the Dark Side.”
Her eyes narrow. I know that face. She isn’t going to let this go. And hell, maybe shecanhelp. I’m no lawyer.
And I’ve lost my investigation partner. I try to swallow down the sting. It’s more of an ache really. Like I’ve reopened an old wound and now it’s infected.
“I’ll let you know when I hear back from Noah,” I say.
“Good,” she replies. She glances down at the wedding photo on the desk. “She’d be glad you’re back,” Von says quietly, staring at Mom’s smiling face. “The whole family together. That was always her thing.” She shoots me a tentative grin. “Even when you and I were butting heads.”
“Which was pretty much all the time,” I say.
She chuckles. “Yup.”
“I thought you’d be happy I left,” I say, more teasing than accusatory. “You always wanted my place in the hierarchy.”
“I didn’t want to beyou,” Von says. “I just wanted to beseen. All of us did. Dad only ever focused on one of his children.”
“Yeah, and it was suffocating,” I say. “I don’t get it. Dad told me if I didn’t accept his conditions, he would name you heir. So why didn’t he?”
“What conditions?” Von asks.
“Get married to whoever he chooses and pop out kids before I can inherit.”
Von raises one slender eyebrow. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“That does seem peak Dad.”
“Tell me about it.” I lean against the wall. “So why aren’t you the new heir of Everton?”
Von’s mouth twists. “Because I’m not you,” she says.
“What does that mean?”
She sighs. “Ask Dad yourself,” she says. “He’s home too.” Then she leaves.
She’s right.
I walk through the house in search of my father. I find him in the sunroom, reading the paper.