Chapter Eight #2
Eve just nodded. “No problem. Let’s get this done, Nadine.”
“All right.”
Nadine signaled to the camera, and as she tapped her earpiece, Roarke stepped out of range.
“Trace. We’re ready here. They’re breaking into current programming, the in-studio will toss it to me. We’re live in five, four, three.” She held up two fingers, then one.
“Thank you, Evan. I’m standing outside the gates of the Barrister House, the home of Nathan Barrister, where tragedy struck in the early hours this morning.
Nathan Barrister, the son of Henry, who founded Zip Global Shipping and Delivery, served as CEO of the monolithic company after his father’s death.
While Henry died peacefully last February at the age of a hundred and two, his son was struck down early this morning, apparently by an intruder.
“I have with me Lieutenant Eve Dallas of the NYPSD, who leads the investigation into Nathan Barrister’s death. Lieutenant, what can you tell us regarding the circumstances?”
“At approximately one this morning, officers and medical technicians responded to a nine-one-one call from this residence. The medicals pronounced Nathan Barrister as deceased, and the officers secured the scene.”
“How was Mr. Barrister killed?”
“He suffered a blow to the back of the head. Evidence indicates an intruder or intruders compromised the Barrister House security, gained access to the property. This individual or individuals entered via a window of the home office on the main floor used by Mr. Barrister. At this time, evidence indicates Mr. Barrister entered the office and was struck down by the intruder, who then exited via the same window and fled the scene.”
“Was anything taken?”
“Certain items are missing from the residence. I’m unable to report details of those items at this time.”
“Who else was in the house at the time of the attack?”
“The victim’s wife and his sister and three live-in staff.”
“You’ve eliminated them as suspects?”
“We’re in the very early stages of the investigation, and have no reason, at this time, to suspect any member of the household. However, we have solid evidence of the break-in.”
“Lieutenant, my information is the nine-one-one call and the time of death were within minutes. Did one of the household witness the murder?”
“Statements from members of the household corroborate that Mr. Barrister was unwell yesterday. The ME confirms the victim had a respiratory infection at the time of his death. As a result, Barrister retired early, and his wife used a guest room. She checked on his status several times, and when he wasn’t in their room, she went downstairs to look for him.
She subsequently found him on the floor of the office.
Her screams woke the rest of the household. ”
“She didn’t see the intruder?”
“She did not. Evidence indicates the intruder fled very shortly before she discovered her husband’s body. The evidence, the statements, the circumstances all verify this.”
“Lieutenant, when I arrived here, I observed an armored vehicle inside the gates, along with members of the SWAT team and other security personnel. While my view was somewhat obstructed, I did observe items being removed from the house, loaded into the armored vehicle, which left the property, accompanied by SWAT and security, and traveled to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”
When Eve’s eyes narrowed, Nadine returned a look that said clearly: I do my job, too.
“Can you tell us what was removed, why, and what bearing this has on Nathan Barrister’s murder?”
Here it comes, Eve thought.
“Shortly after the Nathan Barrister family inherited the residence and relocated here, during some remodeling, redecorating, a crew member discovered a mechanism that opened a wall panel. The panel concealed a vault, one that dates back to when the house was first constructed. The surviving members of the household all state none were aware of the panel, the vault, the contents. Eventually, Nathan Barrister found the combination to the vault among his father’s personal papers. ”
“And opened it?”
“That’s correct.”
“Don’t keep us in suspense.”
“The vault contained paintings, jewelry, other objects of art and artifacts, all stolen over a period of more than three decades from various museums and private collections.”
For maybe the first time since they’d met, Eve observed Nadine speechless.
It didn’t last.
“Have you identified this art, jewelry, ascertained how it came to be in what appears to be a secret vault?”
“The items removed from the vault and now secured will be officially identified, authenticated, and, with the cooperation of Interpol and any local authorities, returned to their rightful owners, as the Barrister family had planned when they made the discovery.”
“Are you saying that Henry Barrister stole or obtained by other means numerous and valuable items of art and jewelry over the course of decades and kept them in a hidden vault, in his home, and his family was unaware?”
“Evidence indicates Henry Barrister facilitated the thefts, and when his surviving family discovered their location, they began the process to, again, facilitate their return. I have no reason, at this time, to believe otherwise.”
“Were the items missing from the residence taken from the vault?”
“Evidence indicates affirmative. That’s all the information I can give you at this time. The family will release a statement. The NYPSD will conduct a media conference. My priority is to identify and apprehend the individual who murdered Nathan Barrister. That’s it.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. These stunning revelations bring more questions,” Nadine said to the camera. “As we gather more answers, more information, we’ll keep you informed. This is Nadine Furst reporting from the gates of Barrister House.”
Nadine signaled cut to the camera, then, since Eve had already started toward the car, rushed after her.
“Wait a minute!”
Eve turned back. “How do you run in those?” She pointed at Nadine’s sky-high heels. “Do you start running around in them at like twelve, thirteen?”
“It’s an inherent skill. Dallas, Jesus! Henry Barrister, secret vault, stolen art and jewelry. This is a huge story.”
“Somebody bashed Nathan Barrister’s head in. That’s my story.”
“Look, I get it. You know I do. I had plenty of time waiting for you to do some research there. He comes off as a good man, a good husband, father, businessman, citizen. I want you to find who killed him, and any help I can give there, I will. But I can’t ignore the billion-pound elephant in the room.
How much are we talking? I won’t use it from you—I’ll find out otherwise. But off the record, how much?”
“The museum guys have to authenticate and value. But I’d say make that billion-pound elephant plural.”
“Jesus. The man had a rep—a hound-dog-with-women rep—but this? A supersecret private collection, one his family didn’t know existed. You’re buying that?”
“Yeah, I’m buying that.”
“Okay. Tell me what they got, what they took. I’ll hold it, you know I’ll hold it until you give me the go. I’ll do my own research, no sharing with my team.”
Nadine, Eve knew, kept her word. No matter how big the story, integrity came first.
“The Royal Suite.”
“What is that?”
“Do your research. I’ve gotta go.”
“Dallas—”
“Nadine.” Roarke put a hand on her arm. “She’s barely slept, barely eaten. And here come your colleagues.”
Nadine looked around, saw the vans pulling up, the reporters hotfooting it down the sidewalk.
“Go.”
“Give the family a break,” Eve said as she got into the car. “The house is full of grief.”
As the shouts for Lieutenant Dallas! rang out, Roarke pulled away.
Eve put her head back, closed her eyes. “And I have to do a media conference either tomorrow or Monday, depending.”
“You shouldn’t be so good at them. You are,” he insisted when she just gave a quick snort. “You’re clear, you’re brisk, and the obvious impatience adds to it. So does your emphasis on the victim. You gave Nadine more than I thought you would.”
“Whitney cleared it. We agreed she’d find out anyway, and she doesn’t sensationalize. Well, she doesn’t have to sensationalize the vault thing. It’ll have a life of its own.”
Eyes still closed, she thought out loud.
“Why didn’t he run? Didn’t he hear Barrister coming down the steps, moving around?
Why didn’t he? If he did, why not take what he had in hand and go?
It’s a lot, right there. And for all he knew, the Barristers would just swallow the loss.
But you add murder, it’s going down just like it’s going down.
Instead of a stretch in a cage, it’s life. ”
“He may have killed before.”
“Yeah, I’m going to look at that.”
“After you’ve had a meal.”
“I need an hour down first. My brain’s going numb. Just an hour.”
“All right then. It’s still pleasant out. After you rest a bit, why don’t I grill some burgers? We’ll retire the grill for the season soon enough.”
“Peabody says her dad grills the whole year. Goes out even in the snow to grill the veg burgers or whatever.”
“I don’t believe I’m that dedicated.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t be, either. I gotta look at the wife, because you’ve gotta.
Dig down, see if she’s got gambling shit, or a side piece, something she could be blackmailed for.
She didn’t want him dead, but the rest …
I don’t see it, but I have to clear it. Same with the sister, the daughters, the staff. ”
“Why don’t I look into their financials?”
“Yeah, that’s why you’re the expert consultant.
You can’t fake that kind of grief,” she murmured.
“The wife. I see grief all the time. Some can fake it, and damn well. Others feel it even if they did the killing. Those can throw you off the scent, for a while at least. But you can’t fake what I saw.
She loved him, depended on him, enjoyed him.
She didn’t want him dead. But it doesn’t mean she didn’t have some part in the theft. ”
“You have to look,” he agreed. “But I don’t see it, either. As you said before, why take a guest room?”
“He insisted on taking one, so she did instead. She said she drifted off awhile. Maybe she was keeping watch, but did just that. Drifted off.”
Like I’m doing right now, Eve thought as he drove through the gates.
“Wakes up. ‘Oh shit, where’d he go?’ Goes down, finds him. Last thing she wanted. Pile some guilt on grief.” She sighed as he parked. “Doesn’t ring for me, but I’m looking anyway.”
She walked to the door, turned to Roarke. “If Summerset snoots at me, I may just bite him in the throat.”
“Fortunately for all of us, he’s at the street fair. He enjoys them.”
“Right.” So she walked into a blissfully empty house.
Before she could take the stairs, Roarke scooped her up.
“I’m not that tired.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Yeah.” She let her head drop on his shoulder. “I am. I need to get a consult with Mira.”
“Mmm.”
“Henry Barrister’s a big factor in this. I want her take. Have to talk to the ex-wives. Any of the sex mates he had most recently. Somebody knew about the goddamn vault.”
“No question of it.”
The cat came out from wherever he’d occupied himself and jogged along beside Roarke. Intuiting the direction, he bounded ahead, and was sprawled across the bed when Roarke carried Eve in.
“You’ll make room, mate.”
He set Eve down, took off her jacket, her weapon harness.
“Just an hour. I just need an hour.”
“Then turn off your numb brain and take it.”
When he pulled off her boots, she flipped around to her stomach. The cat made room; Roarke tucked a throw around her.
“You’re on duty,” he told the cat.
And he would engage the monitor to watch over her in case nightmares chased her while she slept.
In his office, he started on Aileen Carville’s financials first. After he initiated the search, he contacted his old friend Brian in Dublin.
“And how’s it all going then?”
“About how it was,” Roarke told him. “And you?”
“It’s Saturday night in the pub. We’ve Rory’s group doing a seisiún. Lots of tourists joining the locals for a pint. I’ll not complain.”
“And are you hearing anything that might be of interest to me and my cop?”
“Well now, there wasn’t a peep when last we spoke. Then the Yanks broke the story, and there’s plenty of talk. I’ll be using the snug for a moment or two, Mary darling. Take over for me.
“Speculative sort of talk,” Brian continued, as he went into the snug behind the bar and, closing the door, closed off the pub noise.
“Plenty of interest in what might’ve been taken, and what’s left.
I’ve a few names, potentials you could say, of who might try for such a job across the pond, as they’ve had previous success. ”
“I wouldn’t mind having the names.”
“I’ll give you those, and add it’s the murder that throws them off. There’s one or two who might fit there as well, but again, speculative.”
“Understood, and appreciated, Brian.”
Roarke noted down the names, recognized most.
“Thanks for this. I won’t keep you away from the stick on a Saturday night. Why don’t you come for Thanksgiving? Come over with the family, stay a few days.”
“Well now, I wouldn’t mind that a bit. How’s our Lieutenant Darling?”
“Taking a bit of a nap at the moment. She wears herself out.”
“You give her a kiss for me when she wakes. If I hear more, I’ll pass it to you.” He laughed. “And here we are, street rats that were, helping out the coppers. What a world.”
“It’s all what we make it, Brian. I’ll be talking to you.”
He ended the call, glanced at the monitor.
She hadn’t moved a muscle, though the cat had draped himself over her ass as he tended to do when she slept face down.
Satisfied, he got a bottle of sparkling water from his office friggie. And settled into helping his cop.