Page 166 of Blue Moon

“The Marriott?” Allenby looked puzzled. “I thought she was more of a Ritz-Carlton sort of woman.”

“Don’t forget she spent most of her money trying to be the next Howard Carter.”

“Well, her estate still had enough left over to spend on an adult-size copy of the Tiye coffin found in Tutankhamun’s tomb,” Jones said. “Although realistically, she could probably have made do with one the size of the original after they scooped up what was left of her.”

Allenby didn’t look amused. “There’s no need to be so crude.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Did you go to her funeral?” Dan asked Jones.

“I got an invite and I was in the area, so I figured I should pay my respects. The pallbearers nearly buckled under the weight. Say, can you put that picture up again? The suspect?” It appeared on the screen. “Maybe I did see him there, but he didn’t talk to anyone.”

“Where was the funeral held?”

“Utah.”

Utah? That was right next door to Nevada. My heart skipped, one of those delicious flutters that told me we were fucking close.

“Can you narrow that down a bit?”

“Beaver County. Her whole family is buried there. Guess they bought up a plot when land was cheap.”

Beaver County. That had to be it. If her family seat was there, it would be the last property she sold. It had sentimental value. Black and I owned plenty of properties, but the only one he had any attachment to was Riverley, even though it was ugly as fuck. It had been in his family for generations, and I wanted to say it would stay for many more, but the idea of kids totally freaked me out, and at the moment, things weren’t looking hopeful for his nephew either. His niece was the strongest contender for an heir right now.

I didn’t have to ask to know that Echo was searching for any sign of Julia Strand in Beaver County. Or Omnia, or Amor. But if the pattern continued, whatever property she owned would be held by a third shell company. Caro was wading through murky finances and leaked databases and whatever else she could find, but I knew from experience how easy it was to hide money if you had enough of it. Julia Strand might have fallen on relatively hard times, but old habits died hard, and if the corporate structures were in place, it would be easy to keep using them.

“Nothing yet,” Echo said. “Property records for Beaver County are only available in person from the recorder’s office. They’re not online.”

Fucking marvellous.

“What time does it close?”

“Five p.m.”

The nearest Blackwood offices were in Vegas and Salt Lake City, but either way, it was a three-hour drive.

“How fast can you get somebody there?”

“Storm took the helicopter, uh, somewhere, and it’ll take her forty minutes to get back. So a couple of hours at least.”

It would be too late. I’d have to call the recorder’s office and beg someone to stay after hours, and then we’d have to trawl through records that may or may not be computerised, looking for a needle in a haystack.

“Did Julia ever mention a company name to anyone? We believe she had at least three, and we only know two of them so far. Omnia Inc. and Amor Inc., so it’s possible we’re looking for something Latin.”

“Vincit Inc.,” six archaeologists shouted back at me. Huh.

“Amor vincit omnia,” Miles explained. “Love conquers all. The words of the Roman poet Virgil.”

Hmm. Seemed there had been a scrap of romance in Julia Strand after all.

47

LUNA

This…was not good.

“He’s delirious,” Michelle said. “It’s only a matter of time now.”

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