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He almost mentioned that Ismay’s brother was also on the island but decided that was another tangent he’d avoid. “Maybe a little.”
“Where’s Remy?” she asked.
“Still in LA. Has to take some exams before he can leave.”
“Is he really going to become a doctor?”
He put down the books he’d brought in. “Sounds that way.”
“I thought he’d go into the diamond business, like his father.”
“I guess Bastian’s got that covered.”
“Guess so.” She started scanning the books in. “What are you looking for this week?”
“I’m consideringThe Good Earthand maybeThe Grapes of Wrath. With summer here, I won’t have as much time to read, so I’ll probably stop there.”
“For so long, you were reading every business book on the shelves, now you’ve switched to the classics?”
He curved his lips in a wry smile. “The business stuff got a bit dry, and it was becoming repetitive. I needed to change things up.”
“Well, you can’t go wrong with the classics.”
“Figured it’s about time I read them.” He looked around at the mahogany shelves, the brass accoutrements, the elaborate winding staircase leading to the second floor, and the heavy-framed picture of Ivy’s great-grandfather hanging behind her. “I love having access to so many books.”
She gave him a funny look. “There was no library where you lived before?”
“It wasn’t very...accessible,” he said and thought truer words had never been spoken. In prison, it wasn’t easy to get the books he’d wanted to read. Almost all the money he earned hustling chess went to Amazon—inmates could order books as long as they came from a recognized publisher or a third-party business. He probably should’ve saved more of his winnings; he’d had very little to start with when he was finally released. But he’d left the prison library far better stocked than it had been when he was first incarcerated. At the beginning of his sentence, there’d been only a bunch of old tattered paperback novels—castoffs from God knew where.
When he’d left, there’d been enough books to create categories for business, religion, philosophy, popular fiction, and self-help. He hadn’t had a chance to collect any of the classics before he was released, and he regretted that now—wished he’d started with them. Although most of the guys behind bars preferred genre fiction, he believed it was only because they didn’t know what they were missing.Hecertainly hadn’t.
Instead of walking over to the shelves, he remained where he was. “I lentCrime and Punishmentto Remy’s fiancée. But she’ll get it back—to me or to you—before the due date.”
“No problem.”
He’d thought Ivy might bring up the fact that Honey had asked her about Lyssa Helberg, if only to make sure he’d sent off the photograph he’d “found.” He sort of hoped she would—to create a natural transition. But she didn’t, so he had to bring it up himself.
He started walking away before turning as if he’d had an afterthought. “By the way, thanks for giving Honey the address for Lyssa Helberg’s father. I was able to get that photograph off to him.”
“I’m surprised you found it in the first place,” she said. “You’d think someone else would’ve run across it by now. It’s been...what...nine years since that tragic fire?”
“I don’t know how long it’s been. Until I found that picture, I hadn’t even heard of it.”
“I can see why. Emily Hutchins’s body being discovered at the lighthouse last year gave everyone something even worse to talk about.”
“So what happened with the fire, exactly?”
“Remy and Bastian got into a fight at some party—”
“Wait,” he broke in, holding up a hand. “Remy and Bastian were there?” He knew they’d been there; Ismay had told him as much. But he wanted Ivy to elaborate as much as possible, and he felt he had a better chance of that happening if he played dumb.
“They were. The girl who died was Bastian’s girlfriend.”
A chill rolled down Bo’s spine. “Really?” The articles he’d read hadn’t made any reference to the Windsors. There was only that picture of the whole family—along with everyone else—at the funeral. “Honey didn’t say anything about that.”
Ivy checked in another book. “Maybe she doesn’t know. The Windsors managed to keep their name out of the papers.”
So Annabelle had stepped in to protect them. Bo doubted it was Mort. Mort was too busy with his business. It was Annabelle who looked out for the boys—unless she had to get Mort involved. She brought in the big guns when she had to, and her husband relied on her to let him know when it was that time. “What were Bastian and Remy fighting about that night?”
