Read Online Lost Legacy by Dana Mentink - Free Book Online Page B

to surgical procedures that might inform his own treatment of his patients. He had to admit that he didn’t like floundering around in the vague hope of finding a treasure with only the flimsiest of clues to guide them. And above all, he didn’t like having someone watching.
    But hadn’t he paid the man four years before to do exactly that? And truth be told, he hadn’t cared about the methodology. But now, when it was Tuney determined to bring down Brooke’s father, he felt uncomfortable.
    Maybe because Ramsey’s red-haired daughter intrigued him? Made him begin to question his own need for vengeance?
    Victor chalked up his uncharacteristic emotionalism to fatigue. A whole day wasted.
    They continued to plow through the mess for another few hours until some silent understanding passed between them and they convened in the front room. Discouragement was written on Brooke’s face. Stephanie wore her usual expression of calm, but Victor knew she was as frustrated as he was.
    Tuney lifted an eyebrow. “Leaving so soon? It took me three days to get through the mess.”
    Victor held back his rising temper. “What did you learn from the witness? The one who saw Colda leaving the tunnel?”
    “Nothing much. She said she was down in the basement, moving a box of sorority stuff and she saw Colda coming out of the same area you went into yesterday.”
    “The tunnel goes nowhere. It’s impassable.”
    “I know. That’s why I don’t credit the story that he’s hidden anything down there. The police took a dog down to sniff around, more to appease the administration than anything else. They found nothing but a dead rat carcass.”
    “What’s your theory, then?” Stephanie asked, finger-combing some bits of plaster out of her short, tousled hair.
    “If there really is such a painting, I think Colda made off with it, tried to skip town and Donald killed him.” He stared at Brooke. “I think the painting is stashed somewhere off campus, or maybe your father already has it back.”
    Brooke shook her head. “Then why would I be here looking for it?”
    “Because your father didn’t clue you in, did he?”
    She looked away. “There wasn’t anything to tell me. He doesn’t have the painting.”
    “But you can’t explain the phone call to your house from Colda, the ticket he bought to San Diego but never got on the flight?”
    “I don’t have to explain it,” she said, hands on hips. “I’ve never met Colda, but judging from his place here, he’s eccentric, to say the least.”
    Tuney seemed to weigh something in his mind. “Your father took a trip a few weeks back. Stopped right across the bay.”
    She started. “Yes. He went to the library to study some archived letters.”
    “Where?”
    “U.C. Berkeley.”
    “True, but he made one other stop. Here at Bayside, to visit his old pal. Only, Colda wasn’t around, so they left without meeting.”
    “Okay, sounds innocent enough,” Victor put in. “Donald wanted an update on the appraisal of his painting. Natural that he’d look Colda up while he was in town.”
    Tuney shrugged. “Sounds normal on the surface, but I talked to the cafeteria manager. She knew Colda well because he’d order the same thing every day, grilled cheese and tomato sandwich with black coffee. She says Colda was indeed on campus the day and time Donald came to visit. She remembers because Colda asked for his meal to go, something he’d never done in the ten years she’d known him.”
    Brooke crossed her arms. “I don’t see what you’re getting at.”
    “He’s trying to figure out why, if Colda was on campus, he didn’t want to meet with your father,” Victor said.
    Brooke gaped. “I have no idea.”
    “It’s suspicious,” Victor said. “You’ve got to admit that.”
    “I don’t have to admit anything. My father is a good man and you can spin all the conspiracy theories you want.” Brooke walked to the door. “I need some fresh air.”
    Victor sighed. “I