One man stood behind the woman and had the same eyes as her, so Liam guessed instantly that this man was her brother. He was dressed in jeans and an olive-green T-shirt, and gave off the same military vibe that Vander did.
The man sitting beside the woman wore a suit and had an assessing gaze. He’d be the FBI agent.
The man in the suit spoke. “I’m Special Agent Alastair Burke. This is Declan Ward.” He jerked his head to the other man. “And Darcy Ward, my fiancée.”
Liam had been right on all counts.
Declan Ward gave them a chin lift, and Darcy waved.
“Thanks for talking with us. I’m Liam Kensington, and this is Aspen Chandler. Sorry to intrude on your Saturday.”
Burke inclined his head. “Not a problem.”
“Vander briefed you?”
“Yes. I’m sorry about your troubles.” Burke paused. “I’d suggest you take this to the FBI—”
Aspen leaned forward. “That’s not an option. A man’s life is on the line.”
“We get it.” Declan Ward’s voice was a rumble. “We’ve dealt with similar situations before.”
“Vander thought you might be able to help with Dutch Schultz’s treasure,” Liam said. “We suspect Nexus, the criminal group we’re dealing with, knows something that led them to my warehouse.”
“And you could help us understand why they want this treasure so badly.” Aspen shrugged. “I mean, they could’ve just asked Liam for money. He’s got a lot of it.”
Burke leaned forward. “I have a file on the Schultz treasure. Treasure hunters have been looking for it for years. There are reports of it being buried in the Catskills. There are several old eyewitness accounts of men in fedoras burying something by Esopus Creek near Phoenicia.”
Darcy shifted. “A couple of treasure hunters with metal detectors found two gold coins dating from the right time in the Catskills.”
Liam frowned. “So you think Nexus is off-base with the warehouse?”
“No,” Burke said. “Schultz was obsessed with protecting his wealth.”
“And those treasure hunters were making a documentary,” Darcy added dryly.
Aspen nodded thoughtfully. “Or Schultz was smart enough to try and throw people off the real location.”
“When Schultz died,” Burke said, “it came out that his wife wasn’t actually his wife.”
Liam frowned, uncertain what this had to do with the treasure.
“It turned out that Schultz already had a wife. People expected her to come forward for her share, but she never did.”
“Maybe she was terrified of him,” Aspen said. “Guy was a gangster. He sounds like he had a temper and wasn’t afraid to hurt people.”
Liam turned this over in his head. “Or he’d already set her up.”
Darcy nodded. “He never divorced her. He was living with another woman, but he never divorced his wife. Makes me curious.”
“Schultz’s deathbed ramblings are the stuff of legends,” Burke continued. “People have written books about them, plays. People have analyzed his words for clues, but they never lead anywhere.”
“No one looked for his first wife.” Darcy’s grin was wide. “But I did.”
“Darcy is a bit of a whiz with computers,” Burke said with a faint smile.
Liam smiled. “I have a friend like that.”
Darcy snorted. “I’m probably not in the same stratosphere as Maverick Rivera.”
Burke ran a hand down Darcy’s back. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
The man was pretty straight-faced, but the adoration for his woman was clear in his eyes.
“Anyway, I found Helen Clark. She grew up with Shultz in the Bronx, and was a single mother of one son.”
“Really?” Aspen said.
Darcy nodded. “She left a diary when she died, and referenced an Arthur as the father of her son.”
“Schultz’s real name was Arthur,” Liam said.
“That’s right,” Darcy said. “Arthur Simon Flegenheimer. Helen’s son was also Arthur. It’s also mentioned that Schultz had given her a diamond.”
Aspen leaned closer. “It’s rumored that there are diamonds in the lockbox.”
Burke nodded. “Helen sold her diamond. It was flawless, and its clarity is consistent with the old diamonds from India. It had a faint blue tint, and she’d been told that it had been cut from a larger stone.”
Liam felt that tingle he got when a good deal presented itself. “You know something about this diamond?”
The FBI agent was silent for a moment. “Yes. I suspect that’s why Nexus is really after the lockbox. Schultz got his hands on a legendary diamond called the Great Mogul Diamond. It went missing years ago, and came from the Kollur Mine in India. Two-hundred-and-eighty carats of flawless diamond.”
“It’s always diamonds,” Darcy muttered.
Burke shared a private smile with his fiancée, and Liam knew there was a story there, somewhere.
“My theory is that Schultz came into possession of the Great Mogul,” Burke said. “And he had it cut up.”
Liam sat back. “And now Nexus wants the diamonds.”
Burke nodded. “They’d be priceless. Collectors would go crazy.”
“Okay, but this doesn’t help us find the lockbox,” Liam said.
“Helen mentioned in her diary that she knew where Shultz put the lockbox,” Darcy said.
Aspen gasped. “Where?”
“We don’t know,” Burke said. “Helen apparently deciphered Schultz’s deathbed words, but didn’t share the exact location. Helen’s relatives, specifically her grandson, reported that her diary and some of her belongings were stolen recently.”
“Nexus,” Liam said.
“Dammit,” Aspen muttered. “Another dead end.”
Burke’s lips quirked. “Not entirely. Her grandson is still alive. He’d be happy to meet you. He still lives in the Bronx.”
“Oh, God,” Aspen breathed.
“He knows everything that was in that diary,” Burke added.
“Thank you,” Liam said. “Your help has been invaluable.”
“Good luck,” Darcy said.
Behind her, Declan Ward gave them a curt nod.
They ended the call and Aspen grabbed her coat.
“Let’s get that fancy car of yours and head to the Bronx. I’ll call the grandson on the way.”
Liam gripped her arm. “This might not pan out.”
“For Jake’s sake, let’s hope it does.”
Aspen
I followed Liam up to the slightly ramshackle brownstone. He knocked on the door.
This wasn’t the best part of the Bronx, but I could see that it was slowly rejuvenating.
The door opened. An older man with gray hair, wide, dark eyes, and neat clothes answered.
“Ah, Mr. Kensington,” Simon Clark said. “Come in, come in.”
We walked in and I gasped. The place was a shrine to all things Prohibition Era. There were old bottles, framed photos, a fedora hat resting under glass.
“And you must be Aspen,” Simon said.