“That sounds about right.”
“No wonder you don’t want Myra to know.”
I squirmed in my seat. “Do you have any more questions? Because I need to start my second job here at the inn.”
“That’s all for now. But I’m sure I’ll have more later.”
“You know where to find me,” I sighed as I stood, not surprised by his words. I headed for the doorway, hoping I could repair any character damage I’d incurred through this interview, but I stopped short and swung around to face Tom. “What the hellisthe Ricardo deal, anyway? If I’m in trouble because Marino thinks I’m a part of it, at least tell me what it is.” Collin had refused to enlighten me, telling me the less I knew the better, but that wasn’t good enough.
Tom stood and took a few steps toward me. “The Ricardo Estate is an antique collection that was set to be shipped to Sotheby’s in New York for auction. Only it turned up missing.”
I shook my head. “You mean someone stole it?”
“Presumably. It was locked up in Charlotte in a secured, guarded warehouse, but when the time came for it to be transported, the room was completely empty.”
Had Collin been mixed up in the theft? “What were the antiques?”
“Late sixteenth-century English pieces.”
My breath caught. Could this be a coincidence? “Furniture?”
“No. Some knives and swords, clocks, jewelry, candlesticks. Mostly pieces forged in metal. A few Native American artifacts.”
“Native American artifacts? Like what?”
Tom tilted his head. “Why the interest?”
I scrambled for an answer. “I’m trying to piece together why Marino thinks I’m a part of it. And we’ve already established that I’m fascinated with Algonquian culture.”
“You said you just sold him candlesticks.”
“I did. But I also mentioned to Marino that I had other old antiques,” I lied. “Maybe he thought it was too much of a coincidence.”
Tom glanced around the room. “Well, most of your things are off by a couple of centuries to fit the Ricardo auction profile, so I’m not sure that’s it. In the meantime, I can have a police cruiser swing by the inn and your apartment to keep an eye on things.”
I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but while I could defend myself against the supernatural, I was pretty sure I wasn’t immune to bullets. “Thanks.”
I walked Tom to the side door and he paused as he opened it. “I know you’re not telling me everything, but I’m going to let it drop for now. I hope you’ll see that I have your best interest and your safety in mind, and you’ll come to me with the rest on your own.”
I nodded, releasing a sigh. “I know you do, Tom. Thanks.”
As soon as I shut the door, David’s voice broke the silence behind me. “How much of that was fabricated?”
I spun around to face him. “I’m not sure about London, but here in the States eavesdropping is considered rude.”
His eyebrows rose. “What really happened in Morehead City?”
I shook my head with a grudging smile. “That’s an interesting tale that needs tea to accompany it.”
“Fair enough.”
He followed me into the kitchen and scoffed when I pulled out tea bags. “It never ceases to amaze me that you uncivilized Americans call that tea.”
I put my hand on my hip as I held the dangling tea bags in my other hand. “Itistea.”
He shook his head as he sat on a bar stool. “Someday I’ll show you whatrealtea is. In the meantime, this will suffice.”
I boiled some water in the microwave, and I could see it was killing David that I wasn’t making tea the “right” way, whatever that was. But I also caught his use of “someday.” I was dying to ask him if he’d reached a decision, but I imagined he might have reservations after listening in on my little chat with Tom.