She raised her gaze to his. “I’ve accidentally called someone back before when I was trying to listen to the voicemail.”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Give me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Play the voicemail.”
“What if you accidentally call them back?”
“First of all, that has never happened to me. Second, I’ve performed precision procedures, Nat. My hands are rock steady.”
“Surgery on live people?”
“Yes, on live people. I was a medic. I saved soldiers’ lives. Why is that so hard for you to remember?”
“I don’t know. Possibly it’s all the dead body parts strewn around your lab?” she answered.
“They aren’t strewn—just give me the phone.” He scowled.
Reluctantly she handed him the phone. Though she held her breath until she heard the recorded voicemail start to play after Liam placed the cell on speakerphone.
“Miss Chase, this is Rhonda from Mr. Turning’s office. He asked me to call you?—”
“Uh oh.” Here it was. The big heave ho.
“Stop. Just listen,” Liam said.
“We have a rather odd request for you. Lionel Graves’s landlady called from New Haven. His rent was paid through the end of this month, but now she’d like to clear out the contents of his apartment so she can rent it again. There were provisions in his will for his rare book collection and a few historical objects, antiques he collected. But as for the rest—his personal effects, clothing, electronics, and the like—she’s at a loss. Mr. Turning thought since you’re working on completing his project, and you and Lionel were writing partners and all, that maybe you’d have some use for some of his things. And if so, if you wouldn’t mind going through everything, sorting it and packing it up. If not, we completely understand. It’s a large undertaking but I’m afraid you’re our last hope. We just don’t have the manpower and Mr. Turning didn’t want to tell the landlady to just dispose of it all. If you could get back to me, I can provide the address and inform the landlady when you’ll be by so she can let you inside.”
The message ended and Natalie tried to wrap her head around the ramifications of what she’d just heard. Lionel’s apartment could yield a treasure trove of information. For the book. For the Mudville article. For her inappropriate curiosity to paw through other people’s stuff. Hell, it might even hold a clue to prove he had died of natural causes so both he and the police would get off her back about this non-existent murder case.
Of course, it could also be a hoarder’s paradise. She didn’t know enough about the man to predict what awaited there for her, but she knew she wanted to find out.
She finally raised her gaze to meet Liam’s.
“Well?” he asked.
“You up for a road trip to New Haven tomorrow?”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
Chapter Nineteen
The three-and-a-half-hour road trip to Connecticut felt familiar. Like a bit of déjà vu for Natalie.
Liam behind the wheel of his Jeep, after he’d insisted on driving his vehicle instead of taking hers. Natalie in the passenger seat, on her cell trying to organize her life back home as every minute took them another mile farther from Mudville. Overnight bags in the back. Snack bag in the front. Heat whooshing out of the dashboard vents while Liam’s choice of music, classic rock, pumped from the speakers.
It could have easily been their first road trip together, a couple of years ago now.
Then, virtual strangers with a common goal, they had been driving to find Gabe’s prohibition-era treasure and, hopefully, his murderer.
Today, as a couple, they drove to discover if Lionel had any treasure of his own. Research she could use. And, hopefully, evidence to disprove there was any murderer to find.
Two different road trips, yet so much the same.
“Are you sure you’re okay there working on the manuscript alone?” Natalie asked Harper via the cell phone pressed to her ear.
“Yes. Don’t worry. It’s going great. We’ve made a lot of progress already today. Ten chapters.”
