Linda Fairstein - Lethal Legacy

“Check with his wife, Detective. She probably took it to the consignment shop for resale, along with those dreadful things she calls clothes. She’d have dug those jewels out with her teeth, were it possible.”

“About three weeks ago, Mr. Chapman,” Talbot Hunt said. “And leave Josie out of it, Minerva.”

“She is out of it, Tally. Always has been. Father despises her. Imagine, Detective, leaving her church-mouse-of-a-husband minister for Talbot Hunt. True love, I’m sure.”

“Why didn’t you report the theft to the police?”

“Not very complicated, is it? I knew it had to be an inside job-someone who understood the personal value of its worth to me. Nothing else was disturbed in the entire apartment. I figured it was about blackmail, and that at the right moment, I’d be contacted. One can’t very well call the police about a theft of an object for which one doesn’t even have proper title. The Bay Psalm Book still belongs to the New York Public Library, in theory.”

“Where were you when the theft occurred?” Mercer asked.

“I was-I mean, we were,” Talbot said, correcting himself immediately to protect his wife from Minerva’s sharp tongue, “we were in Millbrook.”

“The family estate, Mr. Wallace. My great-grandfather bought land in Dutchess County before he died. My grandfather loved it there, too. A big horse farm,” Minerva said. “Just not big enough for all of us at any one time.”

“Who else besides you and your wife lives in the apartment?”

“The children are away at college. It’s just the two of us. And a housekeeper, but she traveled with us to the country.”

“Do you mind if we get some guys in to go over the place with you?”

Talbot Hunt pfumphed for a few seconds. “I told you, it’s been weeks. There’s no harm in it, certainly, but what do you expect to find?”

“You never know. We might catch a break,” Mike said. “Where exactly did you keep the psalm book?”

Hunt stared at his sister but didn’t speak.

“Do you have a library in your home?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. But that isn’t where I had it.”

“Like I give a damn, Tally. Tell the man, will you? I’m not after your books.”

“Then how come your maid was clutching it when she died?” he shouted at her. “Who were you expecting to meet there? Your low-life buddy Eddy Forbes?”

“Imagine one family with this much dirty laundry, Mr. Chapman. It’s lifesaving that my brother married a washerwoman,” Minerva said. “You see, Tally couldn’t keep the book in his safe-the one in the bedroom closet-because that’s where the cow keeps her jewelry. Don’t be shocked, Ms. Cooper. Father always called Josie the cow. Suits her dead on.”

“How do you know about the safe in your brother’s bedroom closet?” Mike asked.

“Because Tally’s first wife-his late first wife-was a very dear friend of mine. I went there often when she was alive to borrow some of the pieces my mother had left to her. And yes, she died of natural causes-don’t think I wasn’t on his case about that.”

“There’s a bureau in my dressing room, Detective. I kept the book in a false drawer. Actually locked in that drawer, at the base of the bureau.”

“Locked…with a key?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still have the key?” I asked, thinking of the one I found on the floor in the stacks.

“I do. It’s at home. You can have it if you like.”

“Was the lock broken?”

“Not at all. Picked, I’d say.”

“Who knew about the drawer?”

“Well, obviously, my wife.”

Minerva crossed her arms and let out a long, low “moo.”

“I’m not sure anyone else would know.”

“The housekeeper?”

“Certainly, she cleans in there, but I can’t imagine she’d be involved. She’s been with me for twenty years, Mr. Chapman.”

“Anyone else?” Mike asked. “Workmen, guys doing construction or repairs, people in the building?”

“It’s a Park Avenue building. Quite secure. And no one was doing any work for us inside the apartment.”

“Who was helping you in the library?” Minerva asked, rearranging the French tulips in a vase near the sofa. “You’ve always had someone to watch out for the books. Who now, Tally?”

“The same curator I’ve had for years. He’ll be happy to talk with you. He’s only there one day a week.”

Minerva Hunt snapped the stem off one of the flowers and focused her attention on her brother. “That’s not what I mean, Tally. Who’s your book doctor these days, hmmm? Who’s been doing your preservation assessments? Mending your tears? Checking your clamshell boxes?”

Talbot Hunt was trying to ignore Minerva, but she was like a steam engine picking up speed.

“Now I see it,” she said. “Tell the nice detectives what they ought to know.”

“It has nothing to do with this.”

“Tina Barr was working for my father, Mr. Chapman. She was treated well here, as you might guess. Then all of a sudden she quit. Quite abruptly.”

“And started working for Alger Herrick,” Talbot said.

“Only part-time,” I said. That’s what Herrick had told us.

“You hired her away from Father, didn’t you? You knew Tina had all the information about his collection that you weren’t able to get from him yourself. How far in did you let her, Tally?”

His face was red and he looked like he was ready to spit at his sister.

“She wanted the extra work. She didn’t enjoy it here. This is more like a mausoleum than a library. I was doing her a favor, Minerva. Can you understand that?”

“How far did you go, Tally? That’s all I asked.”

“It’s not what you think,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“You were sleeping with her, weren’t you?”

“Stop it!” he shouted at Minerva. “Don’t be such a fool.”

“A fool to figure it out, or to say it in front of the detectives?”

I’d only seen Tina Barr in the immediate aftermath of her first victimization. It was hard to think of the distraught young woman as anyone’s paramour.

Talbot Hunt started toward the foyer.

“Didn’t figure she was your type, Mr. Hunt,” Mike said, following him. “So what kind of favor did you do for her? How long did your affair go on?”

Hunt stopped long enough to say, “Hardly an affair, Detective. Tina came on to me, that’s all it was. She was lonely-and, well…things happened.”

“I get lonely myself, Mr. Hunt. Doesn’t mean I crawl into bed with the first weasel that comes along,” Mike said. “What kind of things? Did you and she have a sexual relationship?”

He looked past Mike at Minerva, his teeth clenched.

“I won’t tell Josie,” Minerva said. “You must understand, Mr. Chapman, he’s terrified of his wife. He’s already given her far too much stake in Hunt properties, and she dangles that over his head like a sword.”

“Did you sleep with Tina Barr in the bedroom of your apartment?” Mercer asked. “Where you kept the book?”

Hunt took too long to think. The answer must have been yes.

“But where was your wife?” Mike asked.

“One of the cats must have his tongue, Detective. Josie spends most of her weekends in Millbrook. Tally’s to the manor born, of course. And she’s to the barn born-but to the manor well-adjusted. Loves living the grand country life there.”

Mercer stepped closer to Talbot Hunt, pressing Mike’s arm to encourage him to move away. “We need to have this information, sir. Did Tina Barr know about the psalm book?”

“Of course she did. She’s a-she was a very accomplished conservator. It interested her as much as anyone else in our world.”

“Were you intimate with her?”