Page 37 of Last Resort

Erik stayed alert as he walked to Trinkets, wondering what Carr’s next move would be. Since Raines’s self-imposed exile made it impossible for him to have been close to his uncle, it amazed Erik that Carr even knew much about Raines, although perhaps his notoriety had made him a family legend.

He’s either after whatever remains of Raines’s money—or he thinks Raines came back here looking for Edwin’s hidden treasure.

Unless Tom Raines had established some legitimate employment during his time in Maine—which would have been difficult without a solid false identity—any money that remained would probably be seized as being part of his embezzlement loot.

Of course, Carr might figure that Raines hid his stash outside of banks and legal channels, and have daydreams of gold bars stacked in a hidden safe in the wilds of Maine.

That might be possible, although Erik couldn’t imagine trucking heavy and difficult to exchange gold onto an island in Maine without piquing the notice of even the most standoffish and indifferent neighbors.

Did Carr kill Raines? Sure, he told Jaxon he just came to Cape May today, but who’s to say? Maybe he managed to find his missing uncle and tracked him here earlier. After all, Raines hadn’t left Maine for decades, so for him to suddenly risk a road trip had to be important.

But Raines was shot execution-style. Carr was an actor, not a hitman. Did he kill Raines like that to throw everyone off the track? Or is there a Mob killer loose in town—and did he get what he wanted from Raines, or is he still looking for his payoff?

To keep his thoughts from spiraling, Erik threw himself into doing inventory when he got back to the shop. Susan seemed to recognize his mood and gave him space while still checking in from time to time. He figured the box of fresh donuts in the break room was a gesture of concern and wolfed down two of the chocolate-iced glazed sweets with a hot cup of coffee.

I wish we could ask Chief Hendricks about Dolores Quinn’s attack. But we’ve got no need to know, and so far, no connection beyond intuition. Without anything stronger, I hate to ask one of our hacker friends to break into the system. We need to keep Hendricks on our side.

I like living here. I don’t want the chief of police as an enemy.

After a couple of hours of dedicated inventory-taking, Susan laid a hand on his arm. “Are you okay? You seem…preoccupied.”

Erik appreciated Susan’s concern, so different from his own standoffish mother. “I am. Sorry for being bad company today. I’m worried about the weird things going on and hoping they don’t end up pulling Ben and me into more trouble.”

“Don’t borrow trouble,” she told him. “I’m sure Cole would have called if he thought either of you were in danger.”

Erik didn’t doubt that the chief would protect them if things came down to the wire. But he also knew that Hendricks took a dim view of Ben’s private investigator efforts and his own informal sleuthing, even though visions and ghosts provided information not readily available through conventional methods.

“Maybe no news is good news,” Erik agreed, although he didn’t completely believe his own words.

Susan face-palmed herself. “Ugh—I totally forgot. Remember when I asked Steve at the archive to help us look into the Fun Factory? He called me back while you were with Ben. I swear he’s an awesome detective in his own right.”

“Historians usually are—and they’ve got to piece together clues long after the witnesses are dead,” Erik replied.

“You knew that the Fun Factory burned and that it was owned by the same man who owned the Commodore Wilson, right?”

Erik nodded and felt his pulse speed up, hoping for a break.

“According to Steve, there were rumors that the night the fire broke out, the manager of the casino made off with all the money.” Susan seemed to relish the details as if the hundred-year-old gossip was fresh tea.

“Did the manager set the fire? Or was it the Atlantic City Mob? Or did the owner have bigger money problems and torch the place himself?” Erik asked.

“According to Steve, the fire’s origin was never fully explained. It might have been suspicious, but apparently there was never enough evidence to press charges, although the insurance company quibbled. They eventually paid out, but much less than the full value, which was said to contribute to the owner’s bankruptcy with the Commodore Wilson.”

“How does everything keep coming back to that damned place?” Erik muttered.

“But wait—there’s more,” Susan teased. “The name of the casino manager was Edwin Raines.”

“Raines?” Erik echoed.

Susan nodded, looking pleased with herself. “Tom Raines’s grandfather. Edwin was later murdered, but no one ever claimed to find the money. Rumor had it that three million went missing, which would be around ninety million in today’s dollars.”

“People have killed for a lot less,” Erik said. He caught Susan up on Holden Carr. “If he was Tom Raines’s nephew, then Edwin would be his great-grandfather. Jaxon said Carr used to get drunk and talk about a lost treasure. What if Carr was as obsessed with finding it as Tom was?”

“Steve also found out that Galen Raines, Edwin’s son and Tom’s father, was under suspicion of ties to Atlantic City and Newark mobsters. Bad decisions ran in the family,” she remarked. “Galen was suspected of several thefts and was murdered as well.”

“Quite a family history,” Erik said. “The chief told Ben that there was a connection to one of his old cases in Newark—that had to be Galen or another relative. Edwin would have already died, and Tom was missing during those years.”

“Steve said it didn’t look like Galen was a big player,” Susan said. “Of course, it takes an army of functionaries to run the Mob, not just hitmen and wise guys.”

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