Chapter Ten #2
She put a hand on his arm. “I know that, too. Can you tell me the first thing you stole?”
“I couldn’t, no. Something plucked from a pocket, I’d expect.”
“How about the last?”
“The last? That would’ve been a few months—near to a year—before I turned and saw you at the funeral. While I was easing off that line of work, I didn’t know it was my last.”
He smiled now, in memory. “I’m pleased it was a worthy last.”
“And was?”
“Cartier had a shipment of stones coming in, to be selected for commissioned pieces. Diamonds—blues, whites, pinks, reds, greens, canary. The client wanted a kind of diamond rainbow, colorful and unique. It’s not so easy to trace loose stones, you see, so I gathered them up, sold them off here and there, taking my time about it. ”
“I remember that.” She jabbed a finger at him. “I remember that heist. That was you? Who did you work with?”
“No one at all. I’d be disinclined to name names for you, but no one at all.”
“They figured it was a team. Had to be.”
“It wasn’t. I will say, I had another job in the planning. I’d worked on the ins and outs quite a while. Then there was you, so I let it go.”
“You didn’t need the money anymore. It wasn’t for that. It was for that thrill you can’t describe.”
“It was.”
She put down her fork, then took his face in her hands. Looking into his eyes, she kissed him. “Okay,” she said, and picked up her fork again.
“Who’s saying that? My wife or the cop?”
“Right now, both. And both are going to ask you for a favor.”
“What might that be?”
“I want you to look at the list of stolen property again, at the dates, the locations. Then give me your best shot at who took those items. On their own, part of a team. Working with a broker or not.”
“It would be a guess.”
“An educated one. And in return—though it sticks—I’m not going to go after or send anyone after those names. Just the one, if it pops, who did this.”
He drank coffee as he considered. “I’ll look, but—”
“I’m going to push on who the cops looked at in each case. Compare. I’ve given Interpol a couple names, and maybe it’ll play out. The loot, however major, only comes into this for me if and when it leads to the person who killed Barrister.
“It’s all going back where it belongs, and that’s enough for me. Barrister’s father put that stuff in there, and it might help to know who made that possible.”
“I made it possible for him to put the emeralds in there. That leads to making it possible for someone to take them out again.”
“The person responsible for Nathan Barrister’s death is the person who picked up that rock and caved in his skull. I’m not saying that because I love you. I’m saying that because it’s a fact.”
She ate more pancakes. “If you don’t have something else going on, you could take a look while I’m talking to Interpol and, hopefully, interviewing ex-wives.”
“It’s Sunday, I can do what I like. I like working with my cop.”
“I like working with my former thief. I killed my father.”
“Eve.”
She shook her head. “I was eight, he was raping me again, beating me again. I thought he’d kill me. So I killed him, and kept killing him after he was dead because I couldn’t stop. I did what I had to do. So did you. And now, here we are.”
He picked up her hand, kissed her fingers. “Here we are.”
They went to work. At her command center, Eve started with Inspector Abernathy.
He reported four more pieces had been authenticated.
“The media’s beating the jungle drums. Not just here,” he told her. “Everywhere.”
“They’ll have to keep beating them for a while.”
“Actually, I’m to answer some questions, along with a museum representative, your mayor, and your chief of police in another two hours.”
“You’re welcome to it.”
“I’m told there’s to be a more extensive media conference tomorrow, at Cop Central, which will include you and your partner.”
“Great. Can’t wait. Meanwhile, I’m working on a homicide. In the spirit of cooperation, I need you to get me some information. Who the authorities looked at, interviewed, suspected in each theft.”
“That’s no small amount of cooperation.”
“I’m aware. If this particular angle leads me to Barrister’s killer, you’d certainly be welcome to interview them regarding any and all of the previous thefts. Which may lead to closing some open cases.”
A hint of satisfaction came into his eyes. “I can tell you your husband was looked at in any number of those open cases.”
“Abernathy, do you believe Roarke murdered Nathan Barrister?”
“No, I don’t.”
“If you could get me that information, I’d like to work this angle.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Appreciate it.”
She ended the call, cast her eyes to the ceiling.
She got up, walked around her board, and shook off the simmering annoyance.
And sitting again, she decided to go in chronological order with the ex-wives of Henry Barrister.
Angelica Frank Barrister LeVoy Gruber enjoyed a mimosa by the pool on a sunny day in Hawaii. To Eve’s eye, the hundred-year-old first wife had undergone enough work to tighten every inch of her skin to the point it might split apart in a dozen places at any sudden movement.
It took Eve about five minutes to deduce she’d get nothing out of the woman beyond a grudge held for nearly three-quarters of a century.
“I’m not surprised to learn Henry was a thief. He cheated on me with that redheaded slut, among others. I made him pay for it. If I hadn’t found it too much trouble, I’d have attended his memorial. I’d have worn a red dress and danced the cha-cha.”
She kept that one short, reasonably certain if the woman had known anything, she’d have been happy to spill it. As long as it smeared shit on her first ex-husband.
She tried wife number two, the redheaded slut. Darla Starling, actress, still had red hair. She’d also had work done, but Eve thought the woman looked a lot more human than number one.
She had big blue eyes, and a single tear slid down her left cheek with what Eve saw as beautiful and practiced grace.
“It’s still hard to accept Henry’s gone. And now his son! I didn’t really know Nathaniel.”
“Nathan.”
“Of course. Henry and I weren’t blessed with any children during our time together. We had a fiery relationship. It just burned itself out.”
“Before that happened, did he tell you about or show you the vault?”
“No, and I refuse to believe Henry had any part of all that.”
Like the graceful tear, the look of umbrage seemed well practiced.
“He can’t defend himself, so I will. He loved art, and had a brilliant collection, right out in the open! He loved buying jewelry. I have a lovely collection from our time together. He’d never do this. I didn’t know his son well, or his daughter, but I’m inclined to believe they’re responsible.”
“That’s unlikely, Ms. Starling, as some of the items in the vault were stolen when they were, literally, children.”
“Well. I’ll never believe it of Henry. He was honest, hardworking, generous. We had a wild and burning love. He would have told me.”
“He was involved with other women during your marriage.”
“As the flame began to die. He had a weakness, and that blond bitch seduced him. He cast her off, didn’t he? Her and the others. We even tried to rekindle the flame, but it was done. Only quiet embers remained.”
She tossed back her hair. “Trust me. He didn’t have any part of this, but if he had? If he didn’t tell me, he didn’t tell any of those who followed me.”
When she finished that conversation, Eve took a tour of her office, then stopped by Roarke’s.
“If you cheat on me with a redheaded slut or a blond bitch, I’m going with wife number one’s method.
Number two’s making him out to be a hero, one with whom she shared a fiery passion, and who had a weakness for women who seduced him.
Poor Henry. The first couldn’t drum up the energy to attend his funeral, but if she had, she’d have worn a red dress and danced the cha-cha. ”
Sitting back, he swiveled in his big leather chair. “You’re always dancing at my funeral.”
“Steer clear of redheads.”
“Noted.”
“Abernathy’s going to get me the information I want. He let me know, straight off, that they looked at you for a lot of the thefts.”
“Well, you had to expect that.”
“I did. I’m going to tackle wife number three. The first two didn’t know anything.”
“Number three would be the victim’s mother.”
“Yeah. Look, when I get the investigators’ reports, I’m going to copy you.”
“On the data from the thefts?” Sitting back again, he sipped from his tube of water. “Well, that, at least, will be fun.”
“Yeah, Ferris wheels and merry-go-rounds. All my fun comes tomorrow when I have to do another damn media conference on this whole mess.”
“You’ll get through it. Eve, I’ve started with the first thefts, and have a couple names in mind. But, well, one’s dead, one retired to Barbados a decade ago, and the last, he’s into his eighties, and I can’t see any of the three would apply here.”
“Flip it around,” she suggested. “Start at the other end. Somebody who stole for him forty, fifty years ago is less likely to have waited so long to take this job, if he knew about the vault in the first place. Five, ten years ago? Barrister could’ve started slipping—more likely at that age.
And his death opens more of an opportunity. ”
“Ah.” He gave her a nod and a smile. “Well now, that’s why you’re the cop.”
“You don’t really want to do this. That blocks some thinking angles.”
“I have some qualms, yes. But a man’s dead. You’ve the right of that. I’ll work from the other end.”
“How about we put in a few hours here, and if nothing breaks, we take a walk out to the pond and hang awhile, watch a vid later.”
“I’d like that.”
“Me, too. I’m hitting the next ex. When Abernathy comes through, I’ll copy you.”