“A charity called ETNAD.” Kenny paused, waiting for our reaction.
“Never heard of it,” Jett said.
“You better have.”
“Why?”
“Let’s see. First of all, it’s a lot of money for one charity.” Kenny leaned forward until his elbows rested on the kitchen bar. “And then there’s the fact that the attorney your father called is the same guy handling the Lucazzone estate’s affairs. He works for Alessandro Lucazzone and Brooke.”
That was the moment I heard the needle drop. Or maybe it was a bomb. The silence in the room was so ominous a shudder ran down my spine.
“Clarkson?” All of a sudden I felt faint.
Even Jett looked up and asked, “Why would my father transfer money to him? It doesn’t make sense.”
“It didn’t make sense to me, either, until I told Sylvie and something completely unrelated crossed her mind. If she’s right, we might’ve found our connection between your father and why he wants the book.” Kenny smiled pleased, enjoying every second of his show. “She mentioned Clarkson’s slanted handwriting. Brooke, when Clarkson sent you letters he wrote your name and address on the envelope, right?” I nodded, unsure where he was heading. “Well, Sylvie thinks the handwriting’s the same as the one in the book.”
“Is she sure?” Jett asked. “For all we know, he could have an assistant. It could be her handwriting.”
I grimaced. Clarkson most certainly had an assistant, but would he really drag her into any dirty affairs and risk exposure?
“No,” Kenny said slowly. “Sylvie believes to remember. So it’s a wild guess, I know, which is why I brought this in the hope you might recognize it.”
He pulled the black book out of his bag and pushed it across the table toward me. I flicked to the first page. The handwriting was slanted and old-fashioned, but I didn’t remember whether it was analogous with Clarkson’s handwriting because I never paid attention to the small details. Who would have?
“What makes her think it’s the same?” I asked.
“She recognized the letters ‘B’ and ‘S.’ The curved ‘B’ and ‘S’ in your name look pretty much like those.” He pointed to the “S” in Statham and “B” in Bradley.
“How would she remember something like that?” It wasn’t really a question; more like awe. Sylvie referred to herself as a scatterbrain, but her keen eye for detail never ceased to amaze me.
Kenny answered anyway, “She said not many people write like this anymore, which is why she remembered it so well. The possibility didn’t cross her mind until I told her about the money transfer.” He let out a long breath. “Do you have anything from Clarkson? An envelope, signature, anything at all?”
I lapsed into silence as I tried to remember. “The estate’s financial reports were stolen along with the envelope, but before I met with Clarkson for the first time, he sent me a letter. I might still have it at the apartment. No promises, though.”
It had to be there because I had never sorted through my stuff, what with Jett lying to me and my consequent heartbreak, the sudden departure to Italy and our getting back together. And upon our return, I had barely had time to grab some of my stuff before I moved in with him.
“Where’s Sylvie anyway?” I passed the book to Jett absentmindedly. “I thought she was coming today.”
“It’s her employee induction day,” Kenny said.
“She took the job with Delta & Warren?” I asked surprised. “I thought you guys were going on a road trip.”
“We still are. Sylvie’s trying to get two weeks off.” Kenny hesitated, grinning. “It’s her first day and she’s bargaining already.”
“Sounds like her,” I said, my attention returning to the book in Jett’s hand. “I’m sorry, Kenny. I don’t recognize the handwriting, but I’ll head over to our apartment and get the envelope so we can compare it.”
My head was spinning with facts. I massaged my throbbing temples. “Even if it were Clarkson’s handwriting, it still wouldn’t make sense why Alessandro’s attorney would write down a few names and numbers, then hide the book in his client’s basement.”
As I spoke the words, I realized I had never taken into account the possibility that my lawyer might not be the kind person I thought he was.
“Unless Clarkson’s also involved in the club and they all work together,” Jett said, “and as such the book has importance for all of them.”
“That’s what I figured,” Kenny replied matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry, mate,” he added to Jett.
“My father led me to believe he and Lucazzone were enemies. If Clarkson works for both of them, then my father lied to me.” Jett’s entire demeanor had changed. His eyes were like layers of frost, devoid of compassion. “Yet another lie.”
“What do you know about the charity that received the money?” I asked, changing the subject.
Kenny shrugged, signaling he didn’t know more than we did. “It’s private. Apparently it supports the fine arts. That’s all I could find out.”
ETNAD? The letters echoed in my head. ETNAD. Why did it sound so familiar when I was sure I hadn’t heard of it before?
I grabbed a pen and wrote down the name to visualize it.
“Can you run it through a database or something and find out what the letters could possibly stand for?” Jett asked.