“And rich,” adds Cate, shifting in her seat as if the whole subject makes her deeply uncomfortable.
“In that case, wouldn’t the authorities suspect foul play?” asks Sienna, cogs turning in her mind.
“Assuming they were notified,” says Kenzo. “And even then, only if they knew he’d been robbed. But look around. This house is packed with stuff.”
Jaxon snaps his fingers. “Oh, oh, what if they killed him for the golden book?”
“The what?” asks Kenzo.
“You know,” says Jaxon, “thegolden book.”
“Saying it more than once won’t make me know what you’re talking about.”
Sienna probes her memory, thinking it rings a bell, but there have been so many stories about Arthur Fletch over the years that it’s hard to keep up.
Jaxon huffs, exasperated. “The one made of gold and encrusted with jewels. Worthseriousdough.”
“I read about that,” says Millie.
“Me too,” echoes Cate.
“I thought it was a joke,” says Malcolm. “Something Arty made up, to pad the coffers of his ego, just because he could.”
“Right,” says Priscilla, “because no one in their right mind would believe it’s real.”
Kenzo raises his hand. “Can someone who’s not Jaxon please explain?”
Priscilla sighs. “Therumorwas that back when the first Petrarch book took off—”
“Like stratospheric,” chimes in Jaxon, “as in, sold in a hundred countries, got optioned for an eye-watering sum, sat on theTimeslist for a year—”
“Right,” Priscilla cuts back in. “The rumor was, Arthur wanted to commemorate his success.”
Sienna waves her hand at their surroundings. “The House That Petrarch Built wasn’t enough?”
“The name’s apocryphal,” says Priscilla. “Arthur had already bought the house by then—and the island—with money from Ashbolt, and Creststone, and Bellamy. So—and again, this was arumor—he was looking for a way to celebrate, something truly outlandish, and he decided to commission a book—”
“The most expensive book ever made,” blurts Jaxon, who clearly can’t keep it to himself.
“I heard it was cast in solid gold,” whispers Millie. “And the title was written in rubies, and the spine was lined with diamonds.”
Sienna rolls her eyes. “That sounds ridiculous,” she says, and the same time Malcolm murmurs, “Phenomenal.”
Kenzo’s mouth quirks in amusement. “Sounds like a MacGuffin.”
“You’rea MacGuffin,” mutters Jaxon.
“What’s a MacGuffin?” asks Cate.
“It’s an object that propels the story,” explains Kenzo.
“The book is a myth.” Priscilla slides her palm across the table as if smoothing it, a small but evocative gesture Sienna wants to capture for future use. She wishes she hadn’t left her notebook up in the room. She used to tell herself that if the thought was good enough, it would stick around, but that was before forty came up with a sharpened stick and started jabbing holes in her memory.
“It isn’t real,” Priscilla says calmly.
“How can you be sure?” asks Millie.
“If it were,someonewould have seen it.”
