Celeste was right behind him, holding a designer umbrella over her styled blonde hair.

Her eyes scanned the small living room, lingering on the dust on the bookshelves.

“What a quaint little hideaway,” Celeste said, stepping inside without being invited.

She shook her umbrella outside the door before closing it.

“What are you doing here, Graham?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Graham did not look at me at first.

He looked at Arthur, his eyes cold and assessing.

“Arthur,” Graham said. “I thought we agreed you were retiring to Florida.”

“I am still finalizing some personal matters, Mr. Blackthorn,” Arthur said.

“Personal matters,” Graham repeated, stepping closer to the desk. “Or family matters?”

He looked at the notepad on the desk.

I had left the rest of the pad there, but the top sheet with the coordinates was safely in my pocket.

Graham reached out and tapped the paper with his index finger.

“You shouldn’t be gossiping with my sister, Arthur,” Graham said. “It’s bad for business.”

“I was just showing her some of Eleanor’s old records,” Arthur said, his voice shaking.