Mason whistled softly. “Wow. That’s cold. And I thought I was a tad cynical.”
“I’m sure cops see it all, but I can guarantee you that when it comes to Machiavellian-style scheming and manipulation, nothing beats the warfare that goes on inside families when a large estate is at stake. I take that back. There doesn’t even have to be a lot of money involved. There are plenty of stories of siblings not speaking to each other for years because one of them got Mother’s antique hutch and the other one got the gilt mirror in the living room.”
“Well, as we both observed going into this thing, there’s no feud like a family feud.”
“The infighting is supposedly over money or property, but deep down it’s always the result of the underlying family dynamics.” Lucy tapped the tip of the pen on the tabletop a couple more times. “And there’s nothing like throwing a second wife into the pot to stir things up. If the objective is for her to be more than just arm candy—if her job is to produce a second heir to the throne—things get really, really messy.”
Her phone rang, startling her. She glanced at the screen and winced, but she took the call.
“Hi, Dad,” she said.
“I just got an email from your mother,” Richard Sheridan said. “What’s this about a body in Sara’s fireplace?”
She knew her father was in his office. She could tell by the brusque tone. He was probably preparing for yet another academic meeting. But he was very good at compartmentalizing. She could tell that she had his attention for the moment, so she gave him a quick rundown of events.
“Sara was more than a little eccentric, but it’s hard to imagine her murdering anyone, let alone concealing the body in her fireplace,” he said when she had finished.
“Well, when you think about it, it’s not that easy to get rid of a body—not if you want to be absolutely certain it won’t be found, at least not in your lifetime,” Lucy said.
“I’ll admit I haven’t given the problem a lot of thought,” Richard said dryly. “But it’s just damn weird. And it will probably have a negative effect on the asking price of the house. Any way you can keep the information off the listing form?”
“Believe me, I don’t plan to mention it. Doubt if the real estate agent will want to make a note of it, either.”
“Thirteen years ago, Ellen and I were very relieved to find out that Brinker came to a bad end. You do know he’s the reason Sara sent you back to us that summer, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know.”
“The son of a bitch had it coming, is all I can say. When I found out what had almost happened to you, I wanted to go straight to the police. But Sara was convinced that wouldn’t do any good. I was consulting with a lawyer about our legal options—restraining orders, that sort of thing. Then Sara called your mother and me, and said Brinker was believed to be dead. She sounded very, ah, positive about that.”
“Now we know why.” Lucy paused. “Thanks, Dad.”
“For what?”
“For consulting with the lawyer and . . . and everything. I appreciate that you were looking for a way to protect me.”
“I’m your father. What the hell else would I do?”
Lucy felt tears gathering in her eyes. “Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “About the house—”
“Have you found a real estate agent?”
“I’ve, uh, interviewed one.”
“Like I said, make sure you keep the business about the body off the listing form if at all possible.”
“I’ll be careful.” She hesitated and then decided to update her father. “There’s another problem. The police told me that the house is no longer a crime scene, but it appears there was an intruder last night. Someone searched the place.”
“Were you there?” Richard’s voice was laced with alarm.
“No. I’m staying at an inn in town.”
“Good.” The sudden alarm faded from Dick’s voice. “Did you inform the police?”
“No, because I can’t prove anything. Nothing was taken, as far as I can tell. You know how the cops are when it comes to chasing down suspects in a burglary—especially when nothing was stolen.”
“Empty houses are magnets for vandals and burglars—everyone knows that. The news about the body in the fireplace no doubt drew plenty of attention in the area. Maybe some kids broke in to have a look around.”
“Except that there was no sign that anyone forced his way into the house.”
“According to the media, the average thief can get through the average household lock in about sixty seconds.”
Lucy met Mason’s eyes across the width of the table. “Yes, I’ve heard that, too.”
“Look, there’s no need to hang around Summer River. Get Sara’s things packed and have a charity pick them up. Call in an appraiser to give you some advice on the value of the furniture and those antiques. Get a local contractor to do the touch-up work and get the house on the market.”
“Sure thing,” Lucy said. “Thanks for the advice, Dad.”
Mason looked amused. Probably something about the way she had thanked her father, she decided.
“Have you contacted Warner Colfax about selling those shares you inherited back to him?” Richard asked.
Lucy took a deep breath. “We haven’t discussed price yet.”
“I told you, let the lawyer for the estate handle the negotiations.”
“I understand,” Lucy said dutifully.
Mason raised his eyebrows.
“Got to go,” Richard said. “I have a meeting in a few minutes. Let me know if you need any more help.”
“Thanks for the advice, Dad. Bye.”
“Bye.”
“Love you,” Lucy added.
She was always the one who said it first. But Richard always responded, even if he did need prompting.
“Love you, too, Lucy girl.”
Lucy ended the call, squelching the old wistfulness that always whispered through her when she talked to her father. She put the phone back into her tote. When she looked up, she saw that Mason was watching her with a thoughtful expression.
“Thanks for the advice, Dad?” Mason repeated, brows slightly elevated.
“He gave me a long list of instructions. Get the appraisal on the furniture and the antiques, hire a mover, hire a contractor. He means well.”
“And you’re used to listening politely and then doing exactly what you want to do.”