Page 38 of The Grave Artist

“The ‘goddesses.’ In the note. But I need to run the last part of the clue by you.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised her highly intelligent sister had figured out what the mysterious reference might be. But, for some reason, she was. Perhaps because a part of her still thought of Selina as her little sister, a child. Would sheeversee her differently?

She was tempted to say she was busy but remembered Selina’s reaction when she had dismissed the matter of their father’s death earlier. A few minutes couldn’t hurt. “Cool, Lina, what did you find?”

“Just texted it to you,” Selina said, then launched into an explanation of how she’d realized their father had used the first letter of every second word in every second sentence to spell out the names of two goddesses. She could see how Roberto would have easily been able to construct the note on the fly without anyone suspecting it held a secret message.

Fascinating. Carmen actually laughed at the discovery. “Fortuna and Hygeia. Where does it lead us?”

“I looked them up,” Selina went on. “Fortuna is the Roman goddess of wealth. Hygeia is the Greek goddess of health and cleanliness.”

“Wealth and health?” Carmen muttered, turning the concepts over in her mind.

“I kept getting stuck there.” Selina went on. “Did Dad ever read to us about them? I can’t remember.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

What would his point have been?

Selina suggested, “Maybe a client with a health problem did something illegal to get money for experimental treatment? Dad found out and the client killed him.”

“Maybe. But I don’t know how he’d find out. HIPAA, you know?”

“Right. Let’s keep going.”

Despite the pressure of the case—and the vital need to interview Sylvie—Carmen couldn’t help but be drawn into the puzzle. “Any other thoughts?”

“The English word ‘hygiene’ is obviously based on Hygeia’s name. So let’s think about cleanliness,” Selina said thoughtfully. “And Fortuna was also luck and money.”

An idea rippled through Carmen’s subconscious, working its way to the surface. Something Selina said resonated, but it wasn’t quite there yet. She repeated the three words silently.

Money, luck, cleanliness. Money, luck, cleanliness.

And then the thought that had been a ripple now geysered up.

Not “cleanliness” the noun. But the verb: “Cleaning.”

“Money and cleaning,” Carmen blurted. “Money laundering.”

A pause. “My God, Carm, yes! That’s got to be it,” Selina said. “Dad realized one of his clients was cooking the books, and they found out.”

Damn, Carmen thought, as if punched in the gut.

Another idea occurred. “Any luck with the symbols in the corner?”

“I sent you another text,” Selina said. “It probably means ‘4:19,’ as near as I can tell. Mean anything to you?”

She thought for a moment. “No. Nothing. But the money-laundering lead is credible. And could make the crime federal, honey. RICO—the corrupt organizations law—at least. I still have contacts in the FBI, but we have to give them something more than Greek myths to go on. And I guarantee, no federal judge would issue a warrant based on speculation like this.”

And a warrant service on whom? They had no suspects.

Selina blurted, “Then let’s go and get them what they need.”

She admired her younger sister’s enthusiasm but had to be straight with her, once again. “Lina, this is brilliant. But you’re talking a huge amount of work. And I told you before I can’t run with it.”

“Yeah, yeah, your un-cold case.” Her voice had gone from enthusiastic to snide.

“Lina!”