Free Krewe of Hunters 7 The Unspoken by Heather Graham

of them are true scholars, while the rest are more what you’d call armchair historians. They held a reception about six months ago, and they shared all sorts of current information on expeditions into the Valley of the Kings, the closing of the Great Pyramids for maintenance, stuff like that. And they had an exhibit on Gregory Hudson—he’s the guy who discovered the Amun Mopat tomb way back—and the Jerry McGuen. They were trying to encourage local salvage companies to search for her. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time or money to go on a wild-goose chase, although I wish I had gone on that goose chase. I suppose the location is pretty well-known by now and anyone might have found her after she shifted on the seabed. See, it was wide open. The State of Illinois gets everything recovered in this area of Lake Michigan, but the salvage company that finds it does get certain rights. The original company went bust soon after the sinking of the Jerry McGuen and the passengers’ families were paid off with what was left, so any descendants aren’t really a factor. Now, as far as the salvage goes, the State of Illinois would probably return most of it to the Egyptians.”
    “Do you know of anyone else who was planning to go after the ship?” Kat asked.
    “Landry,” he said. “He and my dad were always competitive. Maybe he wanted to find it just to rub in my dad’s face—or my face now. He was at the reception, by the way.”
    “How many boats do you have, Mr. Simonton?” Will asked.
    “I have a little Mako for my own pleasure,” Simonton said. “You can go see her if you want. She’s sitting right outside.”
    “This looks like a good operation.” Kat smiled. “And obviously a successful one.”
    “I’m all about paying the bills,” Simonton said. He tapped a pencil on his desk. “Can I do anything else for you? I’m sorry, but I’m kind of busy and…well, honestly, I’m not really sure what you’re after.”
    “We think someone helped Brady Laurie drown,” Will said bluntly.
    Simonton gaped at him. “Wow. Well, I can’t see how that could have happened. I mean, his own people were right behind him and they’re the ones who found him.” He sat back, staring at them, still not threatened, just surprised. “Um, you’re welcome to search anything we own or, uh, whatever.”
    “Thanks. If we need to search, we’ll get back to you,” Kat said. “What we could use is information on the Egyptian Sand Diggers.”
    “Oh, sure!” He started rummaging through his desk. “That invitation is in here somewhere…. They used nice stationery and calligraphy on it.”
    He gave up with a sigh and stood, heading out to the receptionist’s desk. “Gina, can you find me that invitation from the Egyptian Sand Diggers?”
    Simonton stood by the door as Gina searched for the invitation. Kat leaned over and whispered to Will. “Why don’t you just call the Tribune and announce that we’re looking for a murderer? We’re not even sure of it ourselves!”
    He shrugged. “What? You think people will believe the FBI is involved because we want to dive a wreck?”
    She gritted her teeth again, but before she could respond, Simonton returned with the invitation. “Here you go. Their address is right there, where it says RSVP.”
    “Thank you,” Kat said, accepting it. She smiled. “You were really helpful. I hope we can count on you in the future, if we need to.”
    He gave her a warm smile in return. “Oh, you bet!”
    “You did a lovely job. Maybe I should let you do all the talking,” Will muttered as they left the office.
    “What?”
    He turned to her. “Mr. Simonton was quite…taken with you. That’s good. He’ll help us.”
    “Agent Chan, that is hardly—”
    “Professional? Sorry. But you were being all nicey-nice, and in this case, it seemed to work. I say we go with it.”
    “I say it’s better than you offending M.E.s and cops!”
    “McFarland needed to know that he’d make a