Richard Castle: Heat Wave

"Uh, we don't do fives."

Rook stood. "Listen, we'd better get over there before Noah. If this woman killed her husband, who knows what she'll do next."

Nikki rose. "Thanks for the pointer, Detective Rook." He held the door for her and they strode out.

Heat, Raley, Ochoa, and Rook crossed through the lobby of the Guilford to the elevators. When the doors opened, Nikki put the palm of her hand on Rook's chest. "Whoa, whoa, where do you think you're going?"

"With you."

She shook her head. "No way. You stay down here."

The automatic doors kept trying to close. Ochoa braced them open with his shoulder to keep them from bouncing.

"Come on, I did what you said. I thought like a detective and I deserve to be there when you take her down. I've earned that." When all three of the detectives broke into laughter, Rook walked it back a hair. "How about I just wait in the hall?"

"You told me you'd wait in the hall when I arrested Buckley."

"OK, I got impatient once."

"And on our raid in Long Island City, what did you do after I told you to stay behind?"

Rook kicked the toe of his shoe against the lip of the rug. "Look, this is starting to sound more like an intervention than an arrest."

"I promise, we won't make you wait long. After all," she said with mock solemnity, "you've earned that." She got in the elevator with Roach.

"Just for that I may do my whole article about someone else."

"Break my heart," she said as the doors shut on him.

When Detective Heat entered through the front door of the apartment, she found Noah Paxton by himself in the living room. "Where's Kimberly?"

"She's not here."

Raley and Ochoa stepped in behind Nikki. "Check all the rooms," she said. Ochoa disappeared with Raley down the hallway.

"Kimberly's not back there," said Paxton. "I already checked."

Heat said, "We're do-it-yourselfers. We're funny that way." Her gaze went to the room full of artwork, hanging as it always had been, floor to ceiling. Nikki marveled at the sight. "The paintings. They're back."

Noah seemed to share her bewilderment. "I don't understand it, either. I'm just trying to figure out where the hell they came from."

"Relax, you don't have to playact anymore, Noah." She watched the furrows crease his brow. "They never left the Guilford, right? We tapped her phone call to you not twenty minutes ago."

"I see." He thought a few seconds, no doubt sorting through his side of the conversation, wondering if he could be an accessory after the fact. "I told her she was nuts," he said.

"Now, that's a good citizen."

He opened his palms to her. "I apologize, Detective. I knew I should have called you. Guess I still have my protective instinct for the family. I came over here to talk sense into her. Too late now." Nikki just shrugged. "When did you find out she stole them? During that phone call?"

"No. The alarm bells sounded for me when I heard our widow-in-mourning bought a piano and left town for the delivery. Does Kimberly strike you as someone who'd leave rearranging her precious antiques to a work crew and a dimwit nanny?" Nikki ambled to the Steinway and tinkled one key. "We checked with the building super. He confirmed the piano movers came here in the morning with a huge crate, but didn't recall them leaving with one. It fell off his radar, I guess, after all the confusion around the blackout."

Noah smiled and shook his head. "Wow."

"I know, pretty sneaky, huh? They never left the building."

"Ingenious," said Paxton. "And not a word I associate with Kimberly Starr."

"Well, she wasn't as smart as she thought."

"What do you mean?"

Nikki had run this over and over in her head so that it was crystal clear to her. Now she would bring Noah along on the ride. "Did you know Matthew had changed his mind about selling his collection?"

"No, I didn't know anything about that."

"Well, he had. The same day he was killed, a woman from Sotheby's named Barbara Deerfield came over here to appraise it. She was murdered before she got back to her office."

"That's horrible."

"I believe her murder was connected to Matthew's."

His brow darkened. "It's tragic, but I don't understand the connection."

"Neither did I. I kept wondering, Why would anyone kill an art appraiser? Then I discovered that Starr's entire art collection was made up of forgeries." Nikki watched a pallor wash out Noah Paxton's face.

"Forgeries?" He let his gaze wander the walls. Nikki saw his eye fall upon a piece of art near the archway. The one covered by a shroud.

"Fakes, Noah." His attention snapped back to her. "The whole collection."

"How can that be? Matthew paid top dollar for these paintings, and from reputable dealers." Paxton's color was coming back and then some as he grew more agitated. "I can assure you when we bought these they were not fakes."

"I know," said the detective. "The insurance documentation pictures bore that out."

"Then how could they now be fakes?"

Nikki sat on the arm of a sofa that cost more than most people's cars. "The appraiser took her own set of photos of the collection as notes. We found her camera and her pictures didn't match the insurance shots. She had documented a roomful of forgeries." Heat paused to let that sink in. "Sometime between the purchase and her appraisal, someone switched the art."

"That's unbelievable. You're sure of this?"

"Absolutely. And Barbara Deerfield would have come to the same conclusion if she had lived to study her pictures. In fact," said Nikki, "I'd say that the reason Barbara Deerfield was killed was because somebody didn't want it to get out that the sixty-million-dollar Starr Collection was bogus."

"Are you saying Matthew was trying to palm off fakes?"

Heat shook her head no. "Matthew never would have hired an appraiser if he knew they were fakes. And after all the money and ego he invested in his Little Versailles? He'd have had a meltdown if he ever found out."

Noah's eyes widened in revelation. "Oh my God. Kimberly…"

Nikki rose and strolled over to the John Singer Sargent oil of the two innocents, enjoyed it for just a glance, and said, "Kimberly beat someone else to stealing that art collection. I arrested a second crew that broke in here later, during the blackout, and they found nothing but empty walls."

"Everyone went to a lot of trouble just to steal something that's worthless."

"Kimberly didn't know the paintings were worthless. The grieving Mrs. Starr thought she was scoring her multimillion-dollar Lotto hit for a shitty marriage."

"Obviously the other burglars thought it was valuable, too." Paxton gestured to the art. "Otherwise why would they try to steal it?"

Nikki stepped away from the painting and faced him. "I don't know, Noah. Why don't you tell me?"

He took his time before he answered, looking at her to gauge if she was asking a rhetorical question or something with more stink on it. He couldn't have liked the way her eyes were boring into him, but he went for rhetorical. "I could only guess."

If her session at the medical examiner's that morning was theater, for Nikki this was Brazilian jujitsu and she was done boxing. On to the grappling. "Do you know a Gerald Buckley?"

Paxton squeezed his mouth into an upside-down U. "Doesn't sound familiar."

"Curious, Noah. Gerald Buckley knows you. He's the overnight doorman here." She watched him work his earnest face. Nikki found him almost convincing; he wasn't bad. She was better. "Here's a refresher. Buckley's the man you hired to set up the second burglary during the blackout."

"That's a lie. I don't even know him."

"Now that is truly weird," said Ochoa from the archway. Paxton was edgy. He hadn't seen the other two detectives return, and he flinched when Ochoa spoke. "Me and my partner took a drive up to Tarrytown this afternoon. To a bar there."