“Any that were criminals?”
“No.”
“I’m also going to need the names of his friends and girlfriends.” He took a step to the side, moving farther down his shelf. “What led to your dad’s conviction?”
She paused her search, her heart heavy. “How much do you know?”
“Not much. When you’re on the inside, you don’t ask about the other inmates’ crimes.”
If he was going to figure out who might be after this treasure, he’d need facts. “Almost ten years ago, Dad started dating a woman named Carla. Dad was in his early seventies, she was in her early fifties. She’d been married four times. No kids. She dressed like Stevie Nicks and looked like her, too, except that she had dark hair.” Finley pulled a record from its cover and peeked inside. “Carla owned a store that sold posters and art prints.”
“Did you like her?”
“I was in college when she and Dad were together. I only spenttime with her when I was home or on the few occasions when they came to visit me.”
“Did you like her?” he repeated.
“I strive to like everyone.”
“Except Carla,” he guessed.
“She had her strengths. She was a passionate, artistic person. She wrote songs that she performed at bars around town. She was independent.”
“But?”
“There were times when I thought I spotted something a little bit ... predatory behind her eyes. It felt like she was assessing me while she was smiling at me, which made me uneasy.” She gave atsksound. “I feel badly for saying that. I might have read her wrong. But if I did, it’s because she never gave me a chance to see or know the real her.”
“What happened to Carla?”
“Dad and Robbie went over to her apartment one evening. They planned to pick her up, then go to a sports bar for dinner and shoot some pool. When they arrived at her apartment, she brought out a secondhand semi-automatic handgun she’d purchased. She asked Dad to show her how to clean it.” The pine tree outside shuddered in the wind, causing the tip of one branch to dance against the window. It took effort, but she continued, speaking each word evenly. “As Dad showed her how to clean the gun, it accidentally discharged. The bullet went through Carla’s chest.”
“I doubt that’s what happened,” Luke said.
“Run a search for accidental injury and death caused by people attempting to clean guns. You’ll see that it happens often.”
“But usually to younger people. More careless people. Ed must have known his way around guns after serving in the military.”
“He did. He’d grown up with guns on the farm.”
“What did Ed and Robbie do after the gun went off?”
“They called 9-1-1 and started CPR. Tragically, they couldn’t save her.”
“Had your dad been drinking?”
“No. There was no alcohol or drugs in his system. Robbie saw everything. He testified at Dad’s trial that it was simply a terrible accident.”
“But was Robbie an impartial witness? He’d have said anything, wouldn’t he, to protect his older brother? The one who’d protected him from Vietnam?”
“The circumstances are fishy,” Finley conceded. She’d always had the sense that more was involved. “Neither Robbie nor Dad ever budged on a single detail. We talked about it a lot, and they told me that’s how it happened.”
Luke grunted.
“You think Dad wanted to kill Carla?” Finley asked.
“Probably.”
Her pulse pounded. “Why would someone with no history of violence suddenly kill his girlfriend? And why would he do it with his brother present?”
