Page 36 of Lost Cause
“I highly doubt it, but let’s say they did. Why bother when they could take things out the front door every time I go upstairs to nap? Which I do every afternoon for several hours. I have to trust them to be honest, and I do.”
So if they knew about the crown, they could easily have stolen it. Burke needed more details about them. “They’ve worked here a long time. How and when did they start?”
“Ugo began working for our family in France, then came to Oregon with me. Sylvia was recommended to us shortly after we moved here, and she started then. And as I’ve said, they’ve been loyal servants for so long and haven’t given me a moment’s hesitation. I trust them implicitly.”
Burke could never be so trusting. Sure, the servants were like family to Victor and had never done anything to betray his trust. Burke and Tiffany had been together five years before their engagement, and there had never even been a hint that she would betray him. Then out of the blue she falls in love with his partner. Seriously? His own partner. In his opinion, if a person could betray someone they were in love with, much worse could happen between employer and employee. Even ones who’d been together for so long.
“We plan to interview them when they arrive this afternoon,” Abby said. “We can ask about it then.”
“Good.” Victor lifted his chin, an action he was coming to associate with him. “I know they’ll put your mind at ease, and I’m sure they’ll help you realize I’m not the monster you’re trying to portray me as.”
Burke didn’t really think Victor was a monster, but he still hadn’t ruled him out as a suspect. “We also located oil spilled on the floor in your secret hallway. Any idea what type of oil it could be?”
“No idea. Not somethingIput there.” He’d said he didn’t use the hallway before, so that wasn’t a surprise.
“I also wanted to ask about the missing paintings in the foyer,” Burke said. “The discolored wallpaper says they’d hung there for a long time.”
“They belonged to my great-grandfather. He commissioned an artist in the late 1800s to paint them. He had them made for his own enjoyment, but then the artist became famous. Now they’re valuable, but nothing like a Monet.”
“What happened to them?”
Victor rested his cane on the chair and planted his hands on the arms. “Again, I don’t know what this has to do with the missing crown.”
“If you sold the paintings because you needed money, maybe you still do and are running some sort of scam involving the crown.”
Victor gritted his teeth. “I don’t need the money. If you don’t believe me, Ugo can show you my latest bank statements when he gets here.”
Burke would definitely review those statements. “If you didn’t sell the paintings, then what happened to them?”
“Estelle brought her personal maid with her from France,” Victor said. “Dominique had been with her since childhood, but she couldn’t adapt to the Oregon lifestyle. Less than a year here, she gave in to her homesickness and went back to France. Estelle wanted to recognize her many years of service, and Dominique really enjoyed those paintings, so we agreed to give them to her.”
Another logical explanation and one they should be able to prove or disprove. “Can you provide her contact information so we can confirm your story?”
Victor leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “We have her family’s address, but she’s not there. When Estelle went missing, I thought Dominique might know where she was, so I had the private investigator put her under surveillance. He watched her house in France for several weeks and didn’t see either of them. Before he left the country, he checked with her family and friends. Not one of them had seen Estelle or knew where Dominique had moved to.”
Most suspicious that both women were missing. “And you believe them?”
Victor shook his head. “But wherever she’d gone, they weren’t talking, and the PI said he doubted anyone would get the truth from them. If you’d like, I can have Ugo hunt down the last information I had for her.”
“We’d appreciate that,” Abby said. “Did Estelle hire someone to replace Dominique?”
“No. Life is much more casual in Oregon than it was in France, and Estelle didn’t feel like she required someone to help with her personal needs.” Victor let out a long sigh. “I’m getting tired of all these questions. Are you about finished?”
Abby lifted a finger. “I have one more thing. We need to get the crown certificate and bill of sale from your safety deposit box. To do this, the bank will require an in-person visit, and we hope to escort you there.”
Victor shot forward in his chair. “You know I don’t ever leave this place and can’t go with you.”
“You can’t because you have agoraphobia, or you just prefer to stay here?” Burke asked.
“Not agoraphobia.” Victor placed his hands on the table, but they were trembling. “I fell into a deep depression afterEstelle went missing and couldn’t face the world. Thankfully, a wonderful counselor came here, and I found my way out of it. But our past social life rang hollow to me, and I didn’t see any point in resuming it. By then, I’d developed a network of delivery people and other professionals who would come to me. So why leave?”
“You’ve never needed a medical test?” Burke asked.
“I’ve never had any serious medical issues, and for the basics, so many things are portable these days.”
Burke could see losing interest in society, but he would still have gone outside. Not important to their real issue here. “Would it be helpful if we made the trip in a private boat and not on the ferry? It would be much faster.”
“I guess.” He carefully intertwined his fingers as he stared at them. “When would you want me to go?”
