“He said he still had her wrap from a party they went to at the Vanderbilts. Hung on to it all these years for the good memories attached to it. He made overtures after his wife died, but Violet never returned his calls.”

“I wonder why.” Anger edged the snark in my tone.

“I think he convinced himself over the years that she’d been too shy, needed a small push. Girls said no so they wouldn’t look like bad girls. That’s how a lot of guys back then justified…”

Sergei pulled up to the curb.

I tamped down my murderous impulses and opened the passenger-side door for Bram Sr., and then I hung on to the doorframe as he eased in. “There’s something else I wanted to ask you. Do you know anything about a box of old letters and a green little book Violet had?”

“The ones she kept in that blue box? She found them under a loose windowsill when she had to replace some of the original windows that capitulated to dry rot.”

Sergei watched us curiously, but didn’t ask any questions. Instead, he said, “By the way, I just received an offer on the carousel. Nine hundred and fifty.”

My lungs exploded. “Thousand?”

“I’m holding out. Another interested party popped up. Just wanted you to know.”

“Thank you, Sergei.” I could have kissed him.

“One piece of bad news. You’re now officially my client, so I can’t seduce you away from Bram.”

Then they were away, Bram pulling up behind them.

“What were you and my grandfather conspiring about?” he asked as I slipped into the car, my mind spinning.

“Old stories about my grandmother.” Maybe someday I would tell him, but not right then.

“Because you looked like you might be planning your next attempted murder.”

“That was a strictly one-time deal.”

“As a representative of the law, I’m glad to hear it.” He deftly pulled into traffic. “But if you think anyone deserves to meet a grim end, I trust you, and I’m willing to help.”

“I wouldn’t involve you in anything illegal. Good-looking men don’t last long in prison.”

“Point there. All right. I’ll stay out of trouble so I can post your bail.”

His words reminded me of my grandmother so much, my heart squeezed.

Traffic was impossible, a glut of tourists. I clutched my robe closed over my thighs, while Bram concentrated on not hitting people who insisted on darting in front of us and demonstrating a complete lack of survival instinct.

“Should we swing by the Thai place for dinner?” he asked when we stopped for a red light.

I couldn’t imagine getting out of the car. “I need a shower. I have leftovers in the fridge. If day-old pizza is okay.”

“Perfect.” He seemed to want to be back at the house just as badly as I did.