Dana Mentink - Lost Legacy

“Sometimes art freaks steal for the sake of owning what they can’t buy. And the thing about art freaks is, they constantly need to collect more and more. It’s a sickness, see. So why are you using the name Ramsey? Your father’s name is Andrews, isn’t it?”

She slumped. “He forced us to use my mother’s maiden name. Too many people hate us now.”

Victor felt his stomach shrink. Brooke Ramsey, formerly Brooke Andrews, daughter of Donald Andrews, the one man he abhorred more than any other person on the planet.

Tuney raised an eyebrow. “I understand your father is now in possession of a painting that might be a Tarkenton.”

Brooke gaped. “How did you know that?”

Tuney shrugged, his mouth drawn, eyes flashing. “Your father contacted Professor Colda at the university. Funny thing. Professor Colda went missing, shortly after. Found a note in his office. An address. Guess whose?”

Brooke shrugged in exasperation. “Ours, no doubt. That makes sense, since my father sent him the painting to appraise.”

“Yes, your father contacted Colda and then the guy disappeared. Could be your father and the good professor had a falling out? Maybe the learned professor started to ask questions about how your father acquired the Tarkenton? Reasonable, since Dad already has a black mark on his reputation. Maybe he had to make Colda disappear.”

Brooke lifted her chin and Victor thought he saw her lips tremble before she glared at Tuney. “In spite of the news reports, my father’s character is impeccable. Can you say the same for yours?”

Victor collected himself and corralled his shock. “Mr. Tuney, none of this gives you the right to break into her room.”

“I didn’t break in. Gave the maid a happy story that I was her father looking to surprise his daughter.” His lips quirked. “Besides, you didn’t mind my methods when I was working for you.”

Brooke stood. “You hired him?”

Victor shook his head. “Not this time. Four years ago, after the robbery.”

Brooke was pacing the floor now, strides long and graceful, her cheeks flushed. “Because of what happened at the museum? Why would you care about that? What’s your interest in the theft?”

“I have no interest whatsoever,” Victor said, voice low.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“One thing I’ve learned in this business. If something smells fishy, it usually is,” Tuney said. “I’ve got a personal reason to be involved.”

“Who are you working for now?” Victor said, turning back to Tuney.

Tuney shrugged. “That’s not your concern.”

Brooke crossed her arms. “Whatever you two think you know about my father is wrong. He’s a good man. He didn’t steal anything back then and he hasn’t stolen anything now.”

“So why are you here in San Francisco?” Tuney said, jerking a thumb at Victor. “Talking to him? Going to do a little treasure hunting?”

Victor held up a hand. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Mr. Tuney. The lady can talk with whomever she wants.”

“Oh, I think it’s my business, all right.”

“How’s that?”

“One thing you should both know. I’m a busy man, so sometimes I hire people to do freelancing for me. In this case, I had someone keeping tabs on you in San Diego and on your trip up here.”

Victor felt a tingle of unease in his spine. “Who?”

“Gal by the name of Fran.” He looked at Brooke, a flash of emotion crossing his face. “I was scheduled to meet her but things didn’t work out. Maybe you saw her.”

“Saw her?” Brooke echoed.

“Yeah,” Tuney said, his eyes shifting from hers to Victor’s. His voice trembled slightly, and he cleared his throat. “She was shot in your lobby a few hours ago.”

* * *

The walls seemed to blur before Brooke’s eyes. She staggered back and felt Victor’s arm around her waist, steadying her, before she pulled away. “The black-haired woman worked for you?”

“Yes. Off the books, of course. She’s the one who found your father’s address in Colda’s office, so she started tailing you. Followed you to San Francisco, to Gage’s office building. I went to meet her. Got there just in time to join the crowd of bystanders who collected after the shooting.” He cleared his throat again. “It was clear she wasn’t going to make it, even with Dr. Gage’s help, so I decided to come to meet with you personally.”

“Did you tell all this to the police?” Victor asked.

Tuney’s eyes narrowed. “Not yet. I figured I would fill them in right after I talked to you.”

Words failed Brooke. All she could think about was the lady lying on the lobby floor with the life ebbing out of her.

“Brooke’s going back home soon, so there’s no reason for you to continue to pursue her.”

“I want the truth. That’s what I get paid to find out, and now, since Fran’s been killed, I have even more reason to stay on this. She was a good woman and whoever is responsible needs to be punished.” Tuney moved toward Brooke but Victor stepped in between them. Tuney continued, “Get me some time with your father, Brooke. He can come clean, admit to his part in the robbery and cop to whatever he did to Colda and had done to Fran. He’s a sick man, I understand. He’ll want to do the right thing before it’s too late.”

“Stop it,” Brooke screamed, tears pooling in her eyes. “My father is okay. He’s okay.”

“Leave her alone.” Victor drew himself up to his full six feet three. Tuney did not miss the gesture and eased back.

“Or your aunt Denise could talk to me,” Tuney said thoughtfully. “She might have some info that would put the incident to rest.”

Brooke didn’t even ask how Tuney managed to know all the intimate details of her family’s life. “You’re wrong about everything.”

He shrugged. “You should make it easy on your father. Get him to talk to me.”

“What if she doesn’t?” Victor said, voice low.

“Then I stick to Ms. Ramsey like the proverbial glue.”

“You’re no better than a stalker,” Victor snapped.

“I prefer to think of it as determination rather than stalking. Funny how you didn’t mind my tactics when you wanted answers of your own.”

Victor gestured to the door. “I think you’d better leave, Mr. Tuney.”

Tuney hesitated, and Brooke hated the scornful look on his face.

“I’ll go,” he said, “but you’ll be seeing me in your rearview mirror until this thing is solved and Fran’s murderer is caught.” He stopped as he got to the door. “One thing you might consider. Could be that shooting today was random, but it could also be that someone else is interested in your situation.”

“No,” Brooke mumbled, head whirling.

“Better to get it all out in the open before somebody else winds up dead.”

“Get out,” Victor snarled.

Tuney strode out the door, leaving them in silence.

Victor gestured for her to sit on the bed and he took the chair. “We need to contact the police and fill them in on everything Tuney said.”

She tried for a steady tone. “First you need to tell me what’s going on. You know about the robbery and you hired Tuney before. I’m not moving an inch until you tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” he said quietly. “That’s all I’ve been trying to find out for four years.”

Pain surged through her. All the shame, all the humiliation. Her father had never really been able to put it behind him, and now it was all going to be raked up again. Her mind was still spinning from Tuney’s intrusion. “What is happening? It was just supposed to be a meeting. Now there’s been a shooting and this detective shows up. How well do you know him?”