Part 87 (1/2)
Maybe it was time to hire a skilled genealogist to do whatever could be done to track down the reckless Violeta Landon.
Considering it, Eli pulled out his phone again when it signaled.
He saw his agent's name on the display, took one long, deep inhale.
Here we go, he thought, and answered.
He sat there with his notebook, his tablet, and his phone when Abra walked in.
”I'm done upstairs,” she began. ”You're clear if you want to go back to work. I've got one more load of laundry in the dryer. I thought I'd get back into the pa.s.sageway. It's taking some time as I have to haul buckets in and out to get the steps really clean. And I thought if I did it naked it would be more fun.”
”What?”
”Ah, as I thought, the naked got through the wall. Are you working here? Researching?” she asked, tipping her head to read the t.i.tle of the book he'd set down: Whiskey Beach: A Legacy of Mystery and Madness. ”Really?”
”It's mostly c.r.a.p, but it has a few pertinent details. It's got a section on the area, and the Landons during Prohibition, that's pretty interesting. My great-great-grandmother helped run the product to local establishments, hiding the bottles under her skirt to elude authorities, who wouldn't ask her to lift them.”
”Clever.”
”I've heard that one before so it may be true. The theory on the dowry is the rescued seaman managed to hide it. Then he stole the fair and headstrong Violeta's heart and several pieces of her jewelry. That concluded in a wild chase on a stormy night where he went off the lighthouse cliff, courtesy of Edwin Landon, her dark-hearted brother. The dowry likely went with him, back into the unforgiving sea.”
”Where it's secured in Davy Jones's locker?”
”According to this guy, the brigand and the treasure chest were dashed on the rocks, scattering the jewels like sparkling starfish. Or maybe it was jellyfish. Anyway.”
”If that were true, I'd still think bits and pieces, at least, would've been recovered. You'd hear about that over the years.”
”Not if people who snagged a s.h.i.+ny necklace or whatever kept their mouths shut, which he speculates, and seems very likely. Anyway,” he said again.
Abra gave him a curious smile. ”Anyway?”
”She liked it.”
”Who? The headstrong Violeta?”
”Who? No. My agent. My book. The chapters I sent her. She liked it. Or she's lying to spare my feelings.”
”Would she? Lie?”
”No. She liked it.”
Abra sat on the coffee table to face him. ”Did you think she wouldn't?”
”I wasn't sure.”
”Now you are.”
”She thinks she can sell it on the five chapters.”