The Collector
Page 54
Ash said nothing for a moment. “He told you all that?”
“All that, and we were just getting to his daughter. Josie’s thirteen and spends too much time texting the friends she just left in real life ten minutes before. It must be an experience, having two teenagers in the house.”
“I thought he was interrogating you.”
“He did—I mean he questioned me, but I didn’t really have that much to say. I asked if he had a family. It has to be hard being a cop, especially in New York, and trying to balance a family life. And getting him to talk about his kids took my mind off where we were. Plus it was nice knowing he loves his kids, he’s just currently baffled by them.”
“Now why didn’t I think to ask Fine if she had a family?”
“She’s divorced, no kids.” Absently, Lila shoved a loose pin back in her chignon—and realized she was way past ready to let it down again. “But she’s seeing somebody pretty seriously right now. Waterstone told me.”
“I’m taking you to every cocktail party, and police interrogation, I have to deal with for the rest of my life.”
“Let’s try to cut back on the police interrogations.” She wanted to ask what he intended to do about the egg, but didn’t think the back of a cab was the right place.
“Did you really take a helicopter from Connecticut?”
“It was the quickest way to get Angie back, and there’s a pad behind the tennis courts.”
“Of course there is.”
“I need to call her,” he added, pulling out his wallet when the driver swung to the curb in front of his loft. “And my mother. I’ll only have to explain things once to my mother, and she’ll tell everyone else who needs to know.”
“Are you going to tell her about . . . everything?”
“No.” He paid the driver, held the door open for Lila. “Not yet.”
“Why?”
“I told Vinnie, and now he’s dead.”
“That’s not your fault. It’s not,” she insisted. “Oliver acquired the egg, Oliver worked for Vinnie. Oliver acquired the egg while working for Vinnie. Do you really believe this woman wouldn’t have . . . done what she did whether or not you told Vinnie? She had no way of knowing what you told him, but I bet she knew Oliver worked for him.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe, fact. It’s just logical. If you take away the emotion, which is hard to do, you get to the logical.”
“You want a beer?” he asked when they went inside.
“Sure, a beer, why not?” She trailed after him into the kitchen. “Ash, here’s the logic, and I probably got there first because I didn’t know Oliver or Vinnie.” She paused as he took two bottles of Corona out of the fridge. “Do you want to hear my theory?”
“Sure, a theory, why not?”
“You get a pass for smart-ass, considering. All right, logic says this woman knew Oliver—he or Sage probably let them into the apartment that night. The police said there was no forced entry. He wrote you he had a client—she’s the client. Maybe he met her through Sage, because it seems like Sage was the main target. The dead thug had to be the one I saw hitting her. But she couldn’t tell him where the egg was, because Oliver didn’t tell her. How’s that so far?”
He handed her the opened beer. “Logical.”
“It is. The thug went too far, and Sage went out the window. Now they’ve got a mess on their hands, have to act fast. Oliver was half out of it anyway because they drugged him—which also points to them thinking Sage had the information, plus she’d be easier to get the information from. They have to get out, can’t take Oliver with them, so they fake his suicide. I’m sorry.”
“It’s done. Keep going.”
“I think they stayed fairly close, watched. Maybe they checked Oliver’s phone, saw he’d called you a few days before. Aha, they think, maybe the brother knows something.”
Despite a dragging fatigue, he smiled a little. “Aha?”
“Or words to that effect. They follow you to the police station, see you with me, see us talking. I’m the witness, what did I see—or could I be more involved? Anyway, they—probably just she—goes to Julie’s, where she thinks I live, but there’s nothing there. She takes her souvenirs, and thinks about it. Then I come here to see you, and the logic from her side is something’s going on. She follows us—then me into the market, where I comment on her shoes. She had to see us go into the Kilderbrands’ building.”
“And figuring that gave her time, doubled back here, broke in, looked around.”
“But you didn’t have the egg, or anything about it, here. She may wonder why you went into the bank, but from all appearances you came out with what you went in with. Very likely she still thinks you—or we—are involved, but the next stop is Vinnie.”
“And if she saw him come here, that cemented it.”
“All right, yes, but she’d have gotten to him either way. The Fabergé piece she took makes me think she may have asked him about Fabergé eggs, just testing the waters. Don’t you think she would?”
“If I were pretending to be a rich customer, yeah, I’d have asked about Fabergé.”
“Logical,” Lila confirmed. “She brings in the thug, who again takes things too far, but this time she gets rid of him.”
He took a slug of beer, watched—interested and stirred—as Lila pulled pins from her hair. “Temper or cool blood?”
“It can be both. He was a thug, but she’s a predator.”
Intrigued, as he’d had the same image, he took another, slower sip of his beer. “Why do you say that?”
“The way she played Vinnie, going all around the store, selecting pieces?” Since her dress had no pockets, she set the pins on the counter, rubbed her hands through her hair, circled her neck. “She knew what was going to happen to him—maybe not the way it happened, but, Ash, they would’ve killed him even if he’d had the egg and given it to them. She’s a spider, and she enjoyed spinning that web around Vinnie. You could see it.”
“Can’t argue with that. You lay out a pretty good theory. One point of disagreement.”
“All that, and we were just getting to his daughter. Josie’s thirteen and spends too much time texting the friends she just left in real life ten minutes before. It must be an experience, having two teenagers in the house.”
“I thought he was interrogating you.”
“He did—I mean he questioned me, but I didn’t really have that much to say. I asked if he had a family. It has to be hard being a cop, especially in New York, and trying to balance a family life. And getting him to talk about his kids took my mind off where we were. Plus it was nice knowing he loves his kids, he’s just currently baffled by them.”
“Now why didn’t I think to ask Fine if she had a family?”
“She’s divorced, no kids.” Absently, Lila shoved a loose pin back in her chignon—and realized she was way past ready to let it down again. “But she’s seeing somebody pretty seriously right now. Waterstone told me.”
“I’m taking you to every cocktail party, and police interrogation, I have to deal with for the rest of my life.”
“Let’s try to cut back on the police interrogations.” She wanted to ask what he intended to do about the egg, but didn’t think the back of a cab was the right place.
“Did you really take a helicopter from Connecticut?”
“It was the quickest way to get Angie back, and there’s a pad behind the tennis courts.”
“Of course there is.”
“I need to call her,” he added, pulling out his wallet when the driver swung to the curb in front of his loft. “And my mother. I’ll only have to explain things once to my mother, and she’ll tell everyone else who needs to know.”
“Are you going to tell her about . . . everything?”
“No.” He paid the driver, held the door open for Lila. “Not yet.”
“Why?”
“I told Vinnie, and now he’s dead.”
“That’s not your fault. It’s not,” she insisted. “Oliver acquired the egg, Oliver worked for Vinnie. Oliver acquired the egg while working for Vinnie. Do you really believe this woman wouldn’t have . . . done what she did whether or not you told Vinnie? She had no way of knowing what you told him, but I bet she knew Oliver worked for him.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe, fact. It’s just logical. If you take away the emotion, which is hard to do, you get to the logical.”
“You want a beer?” he asked when they went inside.
“Sure, a beer, why not?” She trailed after him into the kitchen. “Ash, here’s the logic, and I probably got there first because I didn’t know Oliver or Vinnie.” She paused as he took two bottles of Corona out of the fridge. “Do you want to hear my theory?”
“Sure, a theory, why not?”
“You get a pass for smart-ass, considering. All right, logic says this woman knew Oliver—he or Sage probably let them into the apartment that night. The police said there was no forced entry. He wrote you he had a client—she’s the client. Maybe he met her through Sage, because it seems like Sage was the main target. The dead thug had to be the one I saw hitting her. But she couldn’t tell him where the egg was, because Oliver didn’t tell her. How’s that so far?”
He handed her the opened beer. “Logical.”
“It is. The thug went too far, and Sage went out the window. Now they’ve got a mess on their hands, have to act fast. Oliver was half out of it anyway because they drugged him—which also points to them thinking Sage had the information, plus she’d be easier to get the information from. They have to get out, can’t take Oliver with them, so they fake his suicide. I’m sorry.”
“It’s done. Keep going.”
“I think they stayed fairly close, watched. Maybe they checked Oliver’s phone, saw he’d called you a few days before. Aha, they think, maybe the brother knows something.”
Despite a dragging fatigue, he smiled a little. “Aha?”
“Or words to that effect. They follow you to the police station, see you with me, see us talking. I’m the witness, what did I see—or could I be more involved? Anyway, they—probably just she—goes to Julie’s, where she thinks I live, but there’s nothing there. She takes her souvenirs, and thinks about it. Then I come here to see you, and the logic from her side is something’s going on. She follows us—then me into the market, where I comment on her shoes. She had to see us go into the Kilderbrands’ building.”
“And figuring that gave her time, doubled back here, broke in, looked around.”
“But you didn’t have the egg, or anything about it, here. She may wonder why you went into the bank, but from all appearances you came out with what you went in with. Very likely she still thinks you—or we—are involved, but the next stop is Vinnie.”
“And if she saw him come here, that cemented it.”
“All right, yes, but she’d have gotten to him either way. The Fabergé piece she took makes me think she may have asked him about Fabergé eggs, just testing the waters. Don’t you think she would?”
“If I were pretending to be a rich customer, yeah, I’d have asked about Fabergé.”
“Logical,” Lila confirmed. “She brings in the thug, who again takes things too far, but this time she gets rid of him.”
He took a slug of beer, watched—interested and stirred—as Lila pulled pins from her hair. “Temper or cool blood?”
“It can be both. He was a thug, but she’s a predator.”
Intrigued, as he’d had the same image, he took another, slower sip of his beer. “Why do you say that?”
“The way she played Vinnie, going all around the store, selecting pieces?” Since her dress had no pockets, she set the pins on the counter, rubbed her hands through her hair, circled her neck. “She knew what was going to happen to him—maybe not the way it happened, but, Ash, they would’ve killed him even if he’d had the egg and given it to them. She’s a spider, and she enjoyed spinning that web around Vinnie. You could see it.”
“Can’t argue with that. You lay out a pretty good theory. One point of disagreement.”
