Christmas Male(61)

He waved a hand gesturing them to sit down as he took the chair across from them. “Your more creative approach intrigued me. Plus, I just finished a painting yesterday. So your timing was good.”

And Fiona’s instinct told her that he was curious. He wanted information as much as they did. She leaned toward him. “That’s not the only reason you agreed to see us. You’re worried about your Amanda.”

“Perhaps. Based on the news report, it sounds like you’re trying to pin this on her.”

“She’s involved in some way,” Fiona said.

“But you haven’t arrested her. What has she told you?”

Fiona debated a moment. If she told him about the amnesia and he was involved, he’d have the upper hand. But she thought she saw a glimmer of true concern in those blue eyes, so she said, “Nothing. Amanda suffered a blow to the head, and she has amnesia. Temporary, the doctor believes.”

Absorbing the news, he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “The newscast said that she was found in the sculpture garden with the Rubinov in her pocket. That, and the fact that she’s related to me, makes her a prime suspect. And now you’re telling me she can’t defend herself because she can’t remember.”

“Correct.”

“She didn’t steal it.”

“Which, of course, means that you’re not involved, either,” Fiona said.

He laughed, and the rich, ripe sound of it nearly filled the room. He met D.C.’s eyes first and then Fiona’s. “If I’d been involved in any way, you wouldn’t have recovered the diamond. And I certainly wouldn’t have involved my niece. She’s a true innocent.”

“Do you have any idea who might have stolen it?” Fiona asked.

Franks shook his head. “I don’t have a clue. Let me tell you what I do know. My sister cut herself off from me the first time she learned what I did for a living. She was very religious and didn’t want her family to be tainted by my lifestyle. Nor did she want her daughter to be looking up to me as some kind of hero. My son never forgave his aunt, and later when Amanda was orphaned, he refused to take her in—even though by that time, he’d also pretty much cut himself off from me. My sense is that Amanda inherited her grandmother’s prim and proper, straight-arrow ways. But she doesn’t condemn me for my former profession.”

“Why did she come to see you?” D.C. asked.

Franks smiled. “She wanted contact with family. She told me a little of her background. I think her foster home experience left some scars.”

“Did she tell you that she’d also contacted your grandson Billy?” Fiona asked.

“She did. She filled me in on where he was, what he was doing. ‘Boy genius’ was the way she described him.”

Fiona didn’t miss the hint of pride in his voice. “Have you had any contact with Billy?”

Franks’s expression sobered. “You think Billy might be involved also?”

“Yes. He and two college pals,” Fiona said. “But we don’t think they could have pulled it off alone.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I really have no way of knowing.”

He was going to clam up now, Fiona thought. Now that they’d satisfied his curiosity. But she believed he did care for Amanda. She was the one he’d met. She leaned forward. “Look, maybe you’re not involved in this. But your blood relatives are. And we think someone is using them. Someone who may have known about their connection with you. What you haven’t seen in the news coverage is that they left a very good copy of the necklace in the display case.”

Franks gave a long, low whistle. “Then Billy and Amanda definitely weren’t in it alone. I don’t know my grandson. Haven’t seen him since he was a toddler. After his marriage, my son also became worried about whether or not his offspring might try to emulate me. I was asked to keep my distance.”

“Maybe that’s what Billy was trying to do—emulate you,” Fiona said.

Franks considered that, too. And for the first time since he’d sat down, he frowned. “Look, I had nothing to do with this. You can believe what you want, but I gave up my old ways on the day I was sentenced. Ten years is a long time. I won’t be able to do what I did, be what I was when I get out. Time takes a toll on someone in my line of work. And technology advances at nearly the speed of light. I’ve been in here three years. I’m not sure, even if I wanted to, that I could break into the security system at the National Gallery. Besides, now that I’m painting, I’ve found a new focus. It’s something I will be able to do when I’m finally released.”