Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set) Blake Banner (love books to read .TXT) 📖

different person. The change inside is so profound that they actually appear to change physically. But with Tammy, I think it went deeper even than that, didn’t it, Emma? Because I don’t think even the Tammy you met, dos Santos, was the real Tammy. I don’t think there ever was a real Tammy. I think there was just a hollow shell, searching for an identity, sustained by an unquestionable talent for drama.

“The first thing that struck me about your house, when I went there, was that there was absolutely no identity in it. Just the picture of your parents, the books by Stanislavski, and a couple of self-help books. Not a single thing to show who Tamara was. Only the scrapbook.”

“I am not Tammy. I am Emma.”

Duffy stared at me. “What is going on, Stone. Who is Emma?”

“Emma? Emma was Tammy’s sister. She died when Tammy was five. But recently, I suspect Tammy has revived her, to keep herself safe in a world where everybody she loves gets snatched away from her. In the end, she came to rely so much on Emma’s strength that she became Emma completely, and Tammy, in fear for her life, hid away inside, where nobody could find her.”

Emma curled up in her chair and began to sob. Dos Santos still looked like he’d seen his own ghost. “How did I not see?”

“It struck me yesterday, when you said you had only seen Tammy very briefly. Even then, I figure you were focusing more on what Hugh Duffy was going to be seeing than on what you were actually seeing at the time. With two years in between, some skillful makeup, and Tammy’s talent, I thought it was possible she could pull the wool over your eyes. Even so, she took the precaution of seeing you out on the terrace, by moonlight. It also made sense of why she was more keen to kill you than to get your money. When we had you nailed down and ready to deal, instead of closing, she went and blew the whole thing by trying to kill you. It made sense when I realized, if you had recognized her at any point, she would be screwed three ways to Sunday.

“The same applied to Baxter, didn’t it, Emma? Somehow he had tracked you down and worked it out. The day I met you, he had just been in to let you know, and start putting the squeeze on you before handing you over to dos Santos. That afternoon I followed you to Baxter’s office. I didn’t realize it at the time, but while I was waiting downstairs, you were up there shooting him through the heart. That’s your favorite shot, right? That’s how you feel—why shouldn’t they?” I shook my head and gave a mirthless laugh. “Once it dawned on me, it all made sense. The way everybody described Tammy was a perfect description of Emma. Looking at Tammy’s photograph, Emma looked exactly like her older sister. Only it was actually her.”

I turned back to dos Santos. “She needed you dead. With you and Baxter out of the way, she would be free to exploit her expert husband and sell… the box.”

“Husband?” It was Duffy. He was staring at her. She was still curled up sobbing into her hands.

“I’m sorry to be brutal, Mr. Duffy, but she has two of them. One back in San Francisco, the other in Manhattan.”

He shook his head, bewildered. “Why?”

I nodded. “That is not so easy to explain, Mr. Duffy. But let’s start by acceding at last to Mr. dos Santos’s repeated request.”

Emma looked up. Her face was drenched, but she was one of those very rare women who do not go puffy and red when they cry. She looked even more beautiful. I pushed the box across the table toward dos Santos. His eyes were bulging, and his hands were trembling.

Emma was shaking her head. “Stone, no…”

I glanced at her. Her cut glass English was gone.

There was a shriek from dos Santos. He was on his feet. “What is this? What is this shit? What are you trying to pull, Stone?”

I smiled at him, then at Emma. “Isn’t that what this whole thing has been about? The da Vinci portrait of Clarice Orsini? The brand-new wife of Lorenzo Medici?”

Dos Santos screamed. “What? This?” He held up the painting, smashed it on the floor, and stamped on it. His face was red, and I could see veins standing out on his head and his neck as he slammed his heel down again and again. “This piece of second-rate shit? This piece of fucking shit?”

He stopped, panting, and glared at Emma. “Where is it?”

I reached down beside my chair and pulled up Tammy’s birthday present. “I happen to know that Tamara Gunthersen was born Tamara Hunter, in West Sussex, England, on March 16, 1995. So this was never going to be her birthday present. Also, you are Tamara Gunthersen, so there is that too. So if this is not her birthday present, what is it?”

I turned to Duffy. “I take it you are not familiar with that picture, Mr. Duffy, and that it never went missing from your collection.”

He shook his head. “It is a very second-rate imitation. I have never seen it before.”

“How about this?”

I pulled on the bow and peeled back the paper to reveal a very exquisite wooden box of what seemed to be Byzantine design. Duffy was frowning at it with curiosity. Dos Santos was trembling and sweating, and Emma’s face was creasing up. “John, please…”

I opened it up. It contained a small, beautifully illuminated bible and a cup ground out of polished stone.

Duffy nodded. “Yes, that’s mine. It is the Thomas de Ahisi Bible. It is priceless. And the cup…”

Dos Santos cut across him. His voice was like the voice of a snake.