Linda Fairstein - Lethal Legacy

Mike cocked his head. He was obviously thinking of the object that had been found with Karla Vastasi’s body.

“Rumor has it that the president of Cartier offered the Hunts a king’s ransom to buy it. Seems the jewels were chosen and set by Louis Cartier himself, and the current managers of the business are peeved that it’s collecting dust in storage.”

It appeared that everyone had lost the significance of the prayer book’s original purpose.

“What became of Jasper’s death threat?” I asked.

“Sort of withered and lost its energy, just like he did,” Jonah Krauss said, snapping the lock on his case. “Three or four months of aggravation, then he was on to his next enemy. Now, I’d like to get a start on my weekend, Ms. Cooper. Any objections?”

Krauss had the briefcase in his right hand, and with his left he reached down to pick up a gym bag.

“That looks like it weighs a ton,” Mike said. “Let me help you out with it.”

“Part of the reason I lift weights, Detective. I’ve got twenty-five pounds of catalogs for the winter auctions, in addition to my own paperwork.”

“One last thing, Mr. Krauss. You got any idea where Jasper Hunt’s little jeweled book is now? I mean, like where in the library is it, if I wanted to see it today?”

Krauss held open the door for us, then stopped and turned to answer Mike. “I haven’t a clue. Last I heard, Tally was taking lessons from the ne’er-do-well son of Brooke Astor. I made such noise about selling off the things that didn’t belong in our collection that he started to try all kinds of tricks to break his father’s will, transfer some of the bequests made to the library ages ago out from under our roof.”

“But how could he do that?” Mike asked.

Krauss pressed a button at the side of the glass door and it seemed to zap every system in his room, dimming lights, turning off electronics, and sealing the exit.

“I assume his lawyer explained the legal liability to him, Mr. Chapman. I guess that’s why he probably resorted to theft.”

“You see his pecs?” Mike asked Mercer as he held open the car door and ushered me into the back seat. “Bet Krauss could lift that armillary sphere with two fingers. Smash the daylights out of Karla Vastasi. Good we got there in time so nobody skinned her to decorate his library.”

“There’s no middle ground with you,” I said. “It’s easy to dislike the guy, but what’s a motive for him to be snooping around Tina’s apartment? Killing Vastasi?”

“They’re all so greedy, Coop. The Hunts spend generations coveting and buying and preserving all these things, and this clown’s ready to discard them all.”

“Krauss is new to the ’hood, but he has surely learned fast,” Mercer said. “Those Hunts, though, I think it’s in their genes. I can’t figure how Tina Barr got caught up in this.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I got fooled by someone who wasn’t what she appeared to be,” I said.

“Did you hear back from Minerva Hunt?” Mike asked.

I checked my cell for messages. “Nothing new.”

“You called her?”

“Twice since you told me to this morning. Why don’t you try your magic? She seemed to like you.”

Mike didn’t answer.

“I get it,” I said, ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck. “She hasn’t returned your calls either. That’s why you’re hounding me.”

He flipped open his cell and dialed information. “Yeah, operator. In Manhattan, Rizzali Investigations. Connect me.”

Someone answered the phone.

“Mike Chapman here. Homicide. Looking for my buddy Carmine. You got his cell for me?”

Apparently, whoever was in charge didn’t want to give that out.

“Okay, patch me through,” Mike said, waiting for the receptionist to make the connection. “Yo, Carmine. How’s things? Someday I’m going to have my own secretary, too. You’re living the good life, man. You working with Ms. Hunt today?”

I could hear the gruff voice barking back at Mike.

“Where at? No, no. I don’t want to see her . I want to make you a hero, Carmine. Ms. Hunt dropped an earring in the office the other night. I’ll hand it off to you, you give it back to her,” Mike said. “Why would I kid you? One high-maintenance broad on my hands is enough. Where are you? Yeah, right now.”

Mike gassed the car and we were off.

“Where to?” I asked.

“He’s parked at the corner of Fifth Avenue and Eighty-third Street. I tell you, Minerva may pay him a lot more than the City of New York did, but Carmine is still one dumb schmuck. Take off one of your earrings, kid.”

I instinctively clasped my hands to my ears and covered the small gold hoops. “I like this pair. Way too simple for Minerva Hunt. Can’t have it.”

“Once she tells him he’s crazy, Carmine’ll give it back to me. I’m just trying to get to the broad.”

I unhooked one earring and passed it to Mike.

“What did you find out about that tote that Karla Vastasi was carrying?” he asked.

“Oops, I dropped the ball on that. Didn’t think it would be important until we saw her again.”

“You’re about to get your wish, if I know Carmine.”

I dug my cell out of my handbag and it was my turn to call information. “Bergdorf Goodman,” I said, and accepted the operator’s request to dial the number of the department store that carried the distinctive bag.

“I’m wondering if you can help me,” I told the saleswoman when the switchboard connected me. “I was with a friend of mine last week. She had one of those open totes with the geometrical pattern-that French line that you’ve carried for the last couple of years.”

She mentioned the designer’s name, reminded me that Bergdorf’s had the exclusive, told me the exorbitant price, and asked if I wanted to purchase one.

“Yes, but before I make the trip over, I want to be sure I can get exactly the same color, same monogram style. I’m not sure if she got if from you, or while she was traveling.”

The woman groaned at my insistence. “Who’s your friend?”

“Minerva Hunt.”

“Ms. Hunt?” I could envision the saleswoman standing at attention at the sound of the name. “Yes, of course. She has that bag in three colors. Would you like the black or the navy? We can stamp the monogram on overnight. I don’t think we have the burgundy in stock.”

“Too bad. That’s the one I wanted.”

“Would you like me to special-order it for you?”

I had already disconnected the phone as I announced to the guys, “Minvera lied. Remember when she said that tote was a gift to her and that she didn’t like it? Well, she bought three of them herself.”

“You think people go to their doctor and say they’ve got a bellyache when their ears hurt? Or a sore throat when its hemorrhoids?” Mike asked. “But they’ve got no problem lying to the prosecutor. See how smart she is and whether she can figure out the truth.”

Mike squared the block in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and pulled in on Fifth Avenue, behind Carmine’s Mercedes S500. I looked through the list of library trustees and found Jasper Hunt III. “I think Minerva may have dropped in on her father. He lives on this block.”

“Twofers, kid. May be our first break.”

Carmine was wiping the side of the car with a chamois until he looked up and saw Mike. He dropped the polishing cloth on the hood and headed toward us.

“Coming at my bait,” Mike said, “faster and dumber than a guppy swimming up for food. Maybe he thinks Minerva’ll give him a reward.”

“Carmine’s looking pretty buff himself,” Mercer said. “He could hoist a garden ornament over my head, don’t you think?”