“It doesn’t matter if she bought my cover,” he said. He did not look up from the phone. “That interview was all about stirring the pot. Successful dealers in the paranormal artifacts trade are tapped into the local market like no one else. They hear all the rumors. I’m sure she got on her phone the minute we walked out the door.”

“Think she’ll call you with more information?”

“I doubt it. But with luck she’ll call someone who will call someone and get things rolling. Meanwhile I need to get a look inside Blake Sefton’s house.”

“What good will that do? Sefton is dead and his collection was sold off.”

Harlan held up his phone. “According to the public records, the taxes on the house are being paid by the historical trust, which, interestingly, is a private charity operated by another trust. What do you want to bet that the second trust was set up by a shell company with headquarters on an offshore tax haven?”

She thought about that while she drank some coffee. Slowly she lowered the cup. “You’re really good at this no-coincidences way of looking at the world, aren’t you?”

“It’s how I’ve stayed alive, Olivia.”

It wasn’t the words that chilled her; it was the way he spoke them. Assuming there were no coincidences was just an everyday habit for him, like wearing a seat belt.

“Obviously the technique is working for you.” She tapped one finger on the side of the cup. “How did Blake Sefton die?”

Harlan smiled a slow, cold smile. It went well with the ice in his eyes. Once again he held up his phone to show her a string of search results.

“Excellent question,” he said. “Sefton died of a heart attack. It was several days before the body was found. A local sheriff’s deputy noticed that the curtains in the living room were pulled shut every day for a week. That was not Sefton’s usual routine. The deputy decided to check and found the body.”

“Hmm. Any sign of a break-in?”

“Apparently not. There’s nothing in the report.” Harlan dropped the phone into the pocket of his windbreaker and picked up his coffee. “Was your grandmother a collector?”

“I don’t think so. She had a small house and a garden over on the coast. Mom and I visited often. But I was only five the last time we were there. I doubt if I would have noticed a paranormal vibe. If I did, I would have assumed it was normal—just part of Grandma’s house.”

“No sign of a gallery or a vault?”

“If she had one, it must have been hidden. I certainly don’t remember it. Mom never mentioned it, either.”