„Customers, and most of them looking for bargains. Or wanting to gawk over the Bobbie Bray collection.“ Maeve, dressed in loose white pants, a soft white sweater and white half boots led the way through a wide doorway into a spacious parlor.
Tidy, Eve thought, but not fussy. Antiques – she knew how to recognize the real thing, as Roarke had a penchant for them. Deep cushions in rich colors, old rugs, what looked to be old black-and-white photographs in pewter frames adorning the walls.
No gel cushions, no mood screen, no entertainment unit in sight. Old-world stuff, Eve decided, very much like their place of business.
„Please, have a seat. I’ve got tea or coffee.“
„Don’t worry about it,“ Eve told her. „Your father’s here?“
„Yes, up in the office. We’re working from here, at least for today. We’re buried in inquiries for our Bray collection, and we can handle those from home.“
She moved around the room, turning on lamps with colored shades. „Normally, we’d love the walk-in traffic at the shop, but not when it’s a circus parade. With only the two of us, we just couldn’t handle it. We have a lot of easily lifted merchandise.“
„How about letters?“
„Letters?“
„You carry that sort of thing? Letters, diaries, journals?“
„We absolutely do. On Bobbie again?“ Maeve walked back to sit on the edge of a chair, crossed her legs. „We have what’s been authenticated as a letter she wrote to a friend she’d made in San Francisco – ah… 1968. Two notebooks containing original lyrics for songs she’d written. There may be more, but those spring to mind.“
„How about letters to family, from her New York years?“
„I don’t think so, but I can check the inventory. Or just ask my father,“ she added with a quick smile. „He’s got the entire inventory in his head, I swear. I don’t know how he does it.“
„Maybe you could ask him if he could spare us a few minutes.“
„Absolutely.“
When she hesitated, Eve primed her. „Is there something else, something you remember?“
„Actually, I’ve been sort of wrestling with this. I don’t think it makes any difference. I didn’t want to say anything in front of my father.“ She glanced toward the doorway, then tugged lightly – nervously, Eve thought – on one of the sparkling silver hoops she wore in her ears. „But… well, Mr. Hopkins – Rad – he sort of hit on me. Flirted, you know. Asked me out to dinner, or drinks. He said I could be a model, and he could set me up with a photographer who’d do my portfolio at a discount.“
She flushed, the color rising pink into her cheeks, and cleared her throat. ‘That kind of thing.' „And did you? Have drinks, dinner, a photo session?“
„No.“ She flushed a little deeper. „I know when I’m getting a line. He was old enough to be my father, and well, not really my type. I won’t say there wasn’t something appealing about him. Really, he could be charming. And it wasn’t nasty, if you know what I mean. I don’t want you to think…“
She waved a hand in the air. „It was all sort of friendly and foolish. I might have even been tempted, just for the fun. But I’ve been seeing someone, and it’s turning into a thing. I didn’t want to mess mat up. And frankly, my father wouldn’t have liked it.“
„Because?“
„The age difference for one, and the type of man Rad was. Opportunistic, multiple marriages. Plus, he was a client and that can get sticky. Anyway.“ Maeve let out a long, relieved breath. „It was bothering me that I didn’t mention it to you, and that you might hear about it and think I was hiding something.“
„Appreciate that.“
„I’ll go get my father,“ she said as she rose. „You’re sure you won’t have coffee? Tea? It’s bitter out there today.“
„I wouldn’t mind either,“ Peabody put in. „Dealer’s choice. The lieutenant’s coffee – always black.“
„Fine. I’ll be back in a few. Make yourselves comfortable.“
„She was a little embarrassed about the Hopkins thing. She wanted to serve us something,“ Peabody said when Maeve left the room. „Makes it easier for her.“
„Whatever floats.“ Eve got to her feet, wandered the room. It had a settled, family feel about it, with a thin sheen of class. The photos were arty black-and-whites of cities – old-timey stuff. She was frowning over one when Buchanan came in. Like his daughter, he was wearing at-home clothes. And still managed to look dignified in a blue sweater and gray pants.
„Ladies. What can I do for you?“
„You have a beautiful home, Mr. Buchanan,“ Peabody began. „Some wonderful old pieces. Lieutenant, it makes me wonder if Roarke’s ever bought anything from Mr. Buchanan.“
„Roarke?“ Buchanan gave Peabody a puzzled look. „He has acquired a few pieces from us. You’re not saying he’s a suspect in this.“
„No. He’s Lieutenant Dallas’s husband.“
„Of course, I forgot for a moment.“ He shifted his gaze to Eve with a smile. „My business keeps me so much in the past, current events sometimes pass me by.“
„I bet. And speaking of the past,“ Eve continued, „we’re interested in any letters, journals, diaries you might have that pertain to Bobbie Bray.“
„That’s a name I’ve heard countless times today. Maeve might have told you that’s why we decided to work from home. And here she is now.“
Maeve wheeled in a cart holding china pots and cups.
„Just what we need. I’ve put the ‘links on auto,“ her father told her. „We can take a short break. Letters.“ He took a seat while Maeve poured coffee and tea. „We do have a few she wrote to friends in San Francisco in 1968 and 1969. And one of our prizes is a workbook containing drafts of some of her song lyrics. It could, in a way, be considered a kind of diary as well. She wrote down some of her thoughts in it, or notes to herself. Little reminders. I’ve fielded countless inquiries about just that this morning. Including one from a Cliff Gill.“
„Hopkins’s son?“
„So he said. He was very upset, nearly incoherent really.“ Buchanan patted Maeve’s hand when she passed him a cup. „Understandable under the circumstances.“
„And he was looking specifically for letters?“ Eve asked.
„He said his father had mentioned letters, a bombshell as he put it. Mr. Gill understood his father and I had done business and hoped I might know what it was about. I think he hopes to clear his family name.“
„You going to help him with that?“
„I don’t see how.“ Buchanan spread his hands. „Nothing I have pertains.“
„If there was something that pertained, or correspondence written near the time of her disappearance, would you know about it?“
He pursed his lips in thought. „I can certainly put out feelers. There are always rumors, of course. Several years ago someone tried to auction off what they claimed was a letter written by Bobbie two years after her disappearance. It was a forgery, and there was quite a scandal.“
„There have been photos, too,“ Maeve added. „Purportedly taken of Bobbie after she went missing. None have ever been authenticated.“
„Exactly.“ Buchanan nodded. „So substantiating the rumors and the claims, well, that’s a different matter. Do you know of correspondence from that time, Lieutenant?“
„I’ve got a source claiming there was some.“
„Really.“ His eyes brightened. „If they’re authentic, acquiring them would be quite a coup.“
„Were you name-dropping, Peabody?“ Eve gave her partner a mild look as she slid behind the wheel.
„Roarke’s done business there before, and you guys went there together. But he doesn’t mention Roarke at all. And being in business, I figured Buchanan would keep track of his more well-heeled clients, you know, and should’ve made an immediate connection.“