Chapter Nine #2
“Somebody spilled the vault thing to somebody else. That’s the only way this happened.
If they did it for gain, it’s somewhere in the financials.
If they did it to brag? That’s harder to pin down.
If revenge plays in? That’s why I have to look at the ex-wives and bed rompers.
Since it doesn’t look like either the vic or his wife played around, I look at the sister, the daughters, the staff for that angle.
“Anyway. I’d better get to it. I guess we need to clean this up.”
Once they had, simple enough in the slick, sleek, and efficient kitchen, they started upstairs.
“You hang with Summerset sometimes in there.”
“In the kitchen? Yes, now and again.”
“So why do they call that other space a butler’s pantry? He’s not a butler. He’s more … a castle manager.”
“He’d enjoy that distinction.”
“And people have what they call a butler’s pantry who don’t have anything or anyone remotely like a butler. It’s just another one of those terms that make no sense. Maybe I’ll change my will and leave everything to Galahad.”
“Your mind is a constant fascination to me.”
“There’s a lot on it right now.”
“Including butler’s pantries and inherited wealth for cats.”
“They’re handy distractions.” She stepped into her office.
“Done with them now. I’m going to update the board, write up this last round of interviews, a report on the transfer from the vault.
Then I’ll start looking at the thieves. The exes are scattered all over the place, so because of the planet’s damn rotation, that’ll have to wait until tomorrow. ”
“You’ll be busy enough without that. I’ll contact Garrett, and get back to the financials.”
She took his hand before he turned away.
“It lifts the burden a little. The excellent sex, and the coffee. They lighten the load some. The fact you not only get the job but are willing to put in time? It does a lot to counteract the whole money thing.”
“Whatever I can do to ease your pain, darling Eve.”
“I don’t even mind you being a smart-ass.”
“Well now, in that area I can’t begin to compete with you.”
“You’re competitive, but yeah, I win.”
Fueled with some load-lightening coffee, she updated her board, wrote up her reports. She killed a few brain cells doing the calculations on reasonable times to contact Henry Barrister’s ex-wives.
Then she dug into thieves.
It shouldn’t have surprised her how clean their data was. When she’d first run Roarke, she’d found only the bare minimum in his official record. No arrests.
She imagined he’d had more than a few knocks when he’d run the streets of Dublin as a kid, but he’d wiped the slate clean.
She suspected the group she’d studied had done the same, or paid someone to do so. Maybe not quite as clean, but nearly.
She focused in on the arrests—charges dropped—for assault by one Ignatious Clapp. Two arrests, one in Killarney, Ireland, one in a hotel in Spain, where he now lived.
She dug down to the police reports, hit the translator for Spanish. Then after reading, sat back and frowned.
In Ireland, Clapp had gone after some man when he learned that said individual had smacked a kid around—age eleven. In Spain, a second individual had gotten physical with a woman server in the hotel bar.
In both cases Clapp had pummeled said individuals, then had surrendered to the authorities without incident. Witnesses corroborated, charges dropped.
But, Eve thought, it showed he had a capacity for violence—and she suspected there may have been other altercations that hadn’t involved local cops.
So Clapp went to the top of her list.
When Roarke came in, she looked over.
“I’ve finished the sister and the housekeeper,” he told her. “I’ve started on the butler.”
“Hold that a minute. Ignatious Clapp.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of him. Definitely experienced. I believe he focuses on jewelry, and lives now in semiretirement in … I’m not sure.”
“Barcelona. He’s got some assaults—charges dropped—on his record. Went after a guy who smacked a kid around one night on the street in Killarney. Then took on another who’d harassed and gotten physical with a waitress in, as it happens, Barcelona.”
“Well now.”
“Yeah, well now. But it shows he’ll use violence. He busted up the first guy’s hand, in addition to knocking out a couple teeth, realigning his nose. He broke the second guy’s jaw, among other things.”
“I’ll wager the hand he broke’s the one that smacked the child, and the jaw? Likely used to insult the woman.”
“You’d win the bet, and still. I’m going to pass his name along.”
“You’ll do what you must, as it’s murder. Clapp would be past seventy, wouldn’t he?”
“Seventy-seven.”
“I think, when you find who you’re after, he’ll be younger, less seasoned.”
“Because you were, when you stole them?”
“Not just that.” Frowning, he shrugged. “It’s one of those gut feelings, as you’re prone to. This is, and we can’t deny it, an area I know something about. I put myself there, Eve, in that room, at that vault, overloaded with the sensation of seeing it all. I take them, hold them in my hands.”
He held them out, palms up. “For a moment, just one moment of indulgence, I let myself feel the weight, admire the beauty, because for that one moment, that one moment only, they’re mine. That’s a thrill I can’t explain to you, it has to be felt.”
As he often did, he picked up her coffee, took a sip.
“But then I’m out and gone. Say while I’m having that moment of indulgence, I hear something. And no matter how indulgent, Eve, my ears are pricked for any sound. And it’s more.”
He set down the coffee, wandered to her board, back again.
“It’s a sense you have. You’re alone, or you’re not. When you feel you’re not, you go. If somehow that sense failed you long enough for someone to come along, you make yourself slippery and you run.
“It’s not cowardice. It’s practicality. It’s survival. Even if you lose what you’d come for, well, there’s another night, another place, another treasure to hold in your hands.”
She didn’t speak for a minute.
“How hard was it to give up?”
He brushed a hand over her hair. “I haven’t a single regret on that score.”
“That’s not what I asked. How hard was it to give it all up?”
“Brutal, that’s the pure truth, but without a single regret. You’re my treasure, Eve, and not for only a moment of indulgence. I’d rather hold you than any other.”
“Does this, consulting, working in your way on investigations, make it any easier?”
“Surprisingly, it does, yes.”
“Anything I can do to ease your pain.”
He laughed, leaned his hip on the leg of her command center. “On to Joy Barrister then.”
Before he could continue, her ’link signaled.
“It’s Inspector Abernathy.”
“Do what you must.”
“Dallas,” she said. “Doesn’t the planet revolve in your location?”
“My location at this time is New York.”
“Is that right?” And no casual shirt now, she noted. A Brit copper’s black suit and tie.
“I’m here to monitor the authentication process and aid in the methods of return.
At this point, the experts in such matters have authenticated a Cézanne, a Picasso, an ivory statue of Venus, the Gardelli ruby ring, the Blue Moon sapphire necklace and earrings, a Ming dynasty vase, and a Mayan artifact. ”
“That’s progress.”
“It is. It will likely take another day or two, perhaps three, to authenticate and document the rest. We’re also investigating the theft of the Royal Suite. I’ve spoken to your commander.”
“In investigating the murder of Nathan Barrister, the NYPSD will also investigate the theft.”
“Understood. We intend to coordinate and cooperate with you on that matter.”
“In that spirit, I have a couple of names you might want to look into.”
She read him in, waited.
“I appreciate this, Lieutenant. I’m not holding back. My focus has been, to this point, on what has been recovered. I know Interpol is working in conjunction with your EDD on monitoring underground auctions and chatter. As far as I know, there’s nothing yet to report there.”
“When there is.”
“When there is. My word on it. If any of the names you gave me lead to more, you’ll hear from me. The recovery of so much stolen property may ring loudest, but Interpol doesn’t take murder lightly. Nor do I. I’ll be in touch.”
Eve replaced the ’link, then ran her hands up over her face, into her hair. “That’s done.”
“You’re starting to fade again.”
“Not that much. Joy Barrister.”
“Nothing that shows. She’s made money from her money—smart investing, good property purchases, well maintained from what I can see. It’s clear to me why she’s CFO. Her records there? Again, from a cursory look, meticulous and clean. I’d say she’s a woman who takes her position very seriously.”
“Likes to travel?”
“She does. Europe and the tropics seem favored, though she travels to Asia, South America, and so forth. Sometimes on the company dime, sometimes on her own.”
“Companions?”
“Company staff when it’s business. Occasionally a travel companion when it’s personal. No one there who seems of particular importance, in that the travel companion rarely repeats. She appears to be a woman who enjoys her position, her wealth, and her freedom to choose her companions.”
“Okay, staff.”
“Not much there. Nothing—what’s that word you use?—hinky. Again, wise investing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they got advice from the Barristers there. They use the same investment firm as Henry Barrister, though a different financial adviser, as none of them are in the Barrister bracket.
“In college—before she took the job at Barrister House—Uma Acker was seriously involved with another woman.”
“How’d you get that from her financials?”
“If you go back, and I did, there was a shared bank account, and two names on an apartment lease. When I checked the other woman, I found she’d been killed in a vehicular accident—about six months before the start of Uma’s employment.
Which explains why, every year on the date of death, Uma purchases flowers—always white roses. ”
“To take to the gravesite. Okay.”
“The butler. John Tyler owns a share in some beach property in North Carolina. His parents also own shares and have retired there. Travel-wise, he visits them two or three times a year. His financials are in good order, nothing in the hinky area. He does, occasionally, play the horses. Small bets, and he wins more than loses. I assume he’s seeing someone, or someones, as two or three times a month he charges what would add up to dinner for two at a nice restaurant. He also buys flowers on occasion.
“He lives within his means, with sporadic indulgences—such as orchestra seats, generally for two, a few times a year. Broadway. He enjoys musical theater.”
“I think we’ll dig up his dinner/theater companions. You never know.”
“Until you do. And last, the divine Divine. A widow—she married Jasper Fortigue when she was but twenty-two, and lost him in a construction accident—work-related—when she was thirty-eight. Two children, boys who were sixteen and fourteen at the time of their father’s death.
She received a lump sum payment, both from insurance and from the construction company.
“From what I can tell, she used it to pay her bills, raise her children, start college funds, and take classes. Culinary classes.
“She’s also been careful with her money.
Small investments, but she banks the bulk.
She doesn’t own any property, but helped both her sons buy homes.
She lives simply. Her travel is almost exclusively limited to a two-week trip—with her family—to various locations.
They rent a house, a big one, at the beach, in the mountains.
From a financial standpoint, she is what she seems. Someone who loves her work, loves her family, and gives her best to both. ”
“Any romantic or sexual companions?”
“None that show.”
“Loves her family, vacations with them. Maybe she knew about the vault, just mentioned it to them.”
“Do you really think so?”
“No, but it’s best to cover it. I’m going to talk to the guy who found the wall panel, see what that turns up. This thief? He didn’t just wake up one day and think: You know, I bet there’s a vault full of good stuff in that office in that house. I’m going to go grab something.”
“No.”
“Go over it with me one more time. The process.”
“Unless the thief is a complete idiot, this was a brokered job.”
“What if he is?” She rose, circled the board. “He’s an idiot. You said the job itself was simple, basic. So lack of experience could be a factor. Hell, maybe it was his first job.”
“You can’t discount it, I suppose. That’s considerable and fantastic luck on his part.”
“Not if someone told him how to do it. Someone told him about the vault, maybe helped him gain access.”
“Someone in the household again.”
“Going back to dead Henry, yeah.”
She saw the steps and how the steps could work.
“Somebody lets it slip, and somebody else decides they want a piece of that. Can’t wait long, either, not if they know the Barristers are making arrangements to give it all back.”
Hands in pockets, she studied the board. “Something to play with. Take me through the broker angle again.”
“The client engages the broker. Alternately, the broker learns of something worth moving on. Either way, he then selects the thief, offers him a fee. This is sometimes a percentage of the resale value, or a flat fee.”
“And the thief wouldn’t know who the client is, or if the broker himself is the client.”
“He wouldn’t, no. Unless the broker is a complete idiot. For a take of this scope, it feels highly doubtful.”
“Most criminals have a wide stupid streak.” She glanced at him. “With some noted exceptions. But okay.”
“With this scope, it’s also very possible the broker doesn’t know the identity of the client.
That’s risky, but this take? So tempting.
Arrangements are made. Fees, payment schedule, drop-off details.
The thief, barring idiots, takes the time to study, research, case it out, practice and so on.
Once the job’s complete, drop-off, authentication, payment.
“For something like this, as I said, you’re not going to pop out the stones, reset them or sell them loose, and bottom out the value. So the client either has a private collection or intends to go to private auction.”
“Let’s hope it’s the second.”
She rubbed her eyes, blinked them open to stare at the board. “Need to talk to the exes.”
“And that’s for tomorrow. Come now, shut it down. Some solid sleep will give you a better start on it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She blew out a breath. “Yeah. Thieves and emeralds and Interpol.”
“Oh my.”
Laughing, she rubbed her eyes again. “I know that one.”
So saying, she went back to her command center to shut down.