Chapter 11 - THE WOMAN WHO OWNED THE AUCTION HOUSE|
Rosalind Ashmore had spent thirty-one years building a reputation that made people lower their voices when they entered her office. She knew the value of an object, the weaknesses of a buyer, and the precise amount of silence required to make a room uncomfortable.
She had also known Étienne Tibido.
When Gideon told Camille what Preston had said, she refused to believe it at first.
“Rosalind helped expose the forgery,” Camille said. “She was the one who looked at me when I found the contraction.”
“Knowing the forgery was false doesn't mean she was innocent,” Gideon replied.
“She could have stopped the auction.”
“She did stop it.”
“Then why would she be involved?”
“Because the folio was not the only object in that collection.”
Gideon explained that the auction house had been used to sell several pieces connected to the Harbor Circle. The forged certificate had been intended to establish a false history for an antique chest. Hidden inside that chest, according to old records, was a document proving that Salvatore Ferraro had transferred ownership of stolen cargo to a foreign buyer.
Camille stared at him.
“So the folio was bait.”
“Possibly. Or a test to see whether anyone could recognize the forgery.”
“And Rosalind knew my father had worked on it.”
“Yes.”
They arranged a meeting at the auction house the following afternoon. Rosalind received them in her private office, a room lined with catalogues and old photographs. She wore a cream suit and a string of pearls.
When she saw Camille, her expression softened.
“My dear, I was hoping you would come.”
Camille did not sit.
“Did you know my father?”
Rosalind's face changed almost imperceptibly.
“I did.”
“Did you help him?”
“I tried.”
“Did you give Victor Sloane access to his records?”
Rosalind looked at Gideon.
“So that's what this is about.”
“Answer her,” Gideon said.
Rosalind placed her hands on the desk.
“Your father came to me sixteen years ago. He had discovered that the shipping documents in our archive were being altered. He asked me to help him preserve the originals.”
“Did you?”
“I made copies.”
“Where are they?”
“Hidden.”
Gideon leaned forward.
“Why didn't you give them to me?”
“Because I didn't know whom to trust.”
“You trusted Salvatore.”
“I trusted the institution I had spent my life building.”
Camille felt anger rising.
“My father disappeared. You knew he was in danger.”
Rosalind's eyes filled, though no tears fell.
“I received a call the night he vanished. A man told me that if I contacted the police, you would be next.”
Camille went still.
“Me?”
“You were eleven years old. I saw you once, at your father's office. He was so proud of you.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid.”
The admission did not excuse her. It only made the truth more painful.
Rosalind opened a drawer and removed a small brass key.
“This belonged to your father. He left it with me the day he came to ask for help.”
Camille took it.
“What does it open?”
“An archive room beneath the old customs station.”
Gideon studied the key.
“Number seventeen?”
Rosalind nodded.
“The same place marked in your father's atlas.”
Camille looked at her.
“Why give it to us now?”
“Because last night someone broke into my home. They searched every room and left one message on my mirror.”
“What did it say?” Gideon asked.
Rosalind swallowed.
“Tell the girl the truth, or the river will take another.”
A heavy silence settled over the office.
Camille turned toward the door.
“Then we're going to the customs station.”
Rosalind reached for her hand.
“Camille, wait.”
Camille looked back.
“There is something I haven't told you.”
“What?”
Rosalind's voice dropped.
“Your father did not disappear alone. The night he vanished, he was supposed to meet someone who had promised to protect him.”
“Who?”
May you like
Rosalind looked directly at Gideon.
“Your father was meeting Gideon's brother.”
