Дэвид Балдаччи - The Collectors

The service at St. John’s Church next to Lafayette Park was very well attended by many library and government types. Also in attendance was Cornelius Behan with his wife, a tall, slender and very attractive woman in her early fifties with expertly colored blond hair. Her haughty air was intriguingly coupled with a wary, fragile bearing. Cornelius Behan was well known in Washington, and people continually went over to him, pressing the flesh and paying homage. He accepted it all with good graces, but Stone noted that he kept one hand on his wife’s arm at all times, as though she might fall without such support.

At Stone’s insistence the Camel Club members had scattered in the church so they could survey different sections of people. Though it was clear that whoever had kidnapped him knew of his involvement with the others, Stone didn’t want to give those people, in case they were here, a reminder that he had three friends who would make nice targets.

Stone sat in the very back, and his gaze swept the area with a practiced motion, until it stopped on one woman who sat off to the side. As she turned and flicked her hair out of her face, Stone’s gaze intensified. His previous training had made him highly skilled at remembering people’s features, and he had seen that profile before, although the woman he was looking at now was older.

After the service was over, the Camel Club members left the church together, stepping in behind Behan and his wife. Behan whispered something to his wife before turning and speaking to Caleb.

“Sad day,” he said.

“Yes, it is,” Caleb said stiffly. He looked at Mrs. Behan.

“Oh,” Behan said. “My wife, Marilyn. This is, uh...”

“Caleb Shaw. I worked at the library with Jonathan.”

He introduced the other Camel Club members to her.

Behan glanced at the church where the pallbearers were bringing the casket out. “Who’d have thought? He looked so healthy.”

“Many people do, right before they die,” Stone said absently. His gaze was on the woman he had spotted earlier. She had put on a black hat and sunglasses and was dressed in a long black skirt and boots. Tall and lean, she cut quite a figure amid all the grief.

Behan looked searchingly at Stone and tried to follow his gaze, but Stone broke it off before the man could do so. “I suppose they’re sure about his cause of death,” Behan said. He added quickly, “I mean, they tend to get these things wrong sometimes.”

Stone spoke up. “I suppose if they have, we’ll know about it at some point. The media usually ferrets those things out.”

“Yes, the journalists are rather good about that,” Behan said with mild distaste.

“My husband knows a lot about instant death,” Marilyn Behan blurted out. When they all stared at her, she hastily added, “I mean, because of what his company does.”

Behan smiled at Caleb and the others and said, “Excuse us.” He took his wife’s arm firmly and led her away. Had Stone detected a hint of amusement in the lady’s eyes?

Reuben’s gaze trailed after them. “I can only visualize that guy now with a pair of panties flying at half-staff on his dinky. I had to cram my fist in my mouth to stop from ripping a laugh during the service.”

“Nice of him to come today,” Stone said. “I mean, for being such a casual acquaintance.”

“The missus seems a complicated piece of work,” Caleb commented.

“Well, she strikes me as sharp enough to know about her husband’s indiscretions,” Stone said. “I can’t believe there’s much love lost between them.”

“And yet they stay together,” Milton added.

“For love of money, power, social status,” Caleb said in a disgusted tone.

“Hey, I wouldn’t have minded some of that in my marriages,” Reuben shot back. “I had the love, at least for a little while, but none of the other stuff.”

Stone was now eyeing the lady in black. “That woman over there, does she look familiar to you?”

“How can one tell?” Caleb said. “She’s wearing a hat and glasses.”

Stone pulled out the photo. “I think she’s this woman.”

They all crowded around the picture, and then Caleb and Milton stared directly at the woman and took turns pointing.

Stone hissed, “Do you two think you could be a little more obvious?”

The funeral party headed to the cemetery. After the gravesite service was finished, people started heading back to their cars. The lady in black lingered by the raised coffin as two workmen in jeans and blue shirts waited nearby. Stone glanced around and noted that Behan and his wife had already returned to their limo. He scanned the surrounding area looking for folks to whom the administration of water torture might be a daily part of life. And you could spot such people, if you knew how to look for them, which Stone did. However, his surveillance turned up nothing.

He motioned for the others to follow as he walked over to the lady in black. She had placed a hand on the rosewood coffin and seemed to be mumbling something, perhaps a prayer.

They waited until she was done. When she turned toward them, Stone said, “Jonathan was in the prime of life. It’s so sad.”

From behind her glasses she said, “How did you know him?”

Caleb said, “I worked with him at the library. He was my boss. He’ll be very missed.”

The woman nodded. “Yes, he will.”

“And how did you know him?” Stone asked casually.

“It was a long time ago,” she said vaguely.

“Long friendships are becoming rarer these days.”

“Yes, they are. Excuse me.” She stepped past them and started to walk off.

“It’s so curious, the medical examiner couldn’t find a cause of death,” Stone said loud enough for her to hear. The comment had the desired effect. She stopped and turned.

“The newspaper said he died of a heart attack,” the woman said.

Caleb shook his head. “He died because his heart stopped, but he didn’t have a heart attack. The papers just assumed, I guess.”

She took a few steps toward them. “I didn’t get your names.”

“Caleb Shaw. I work in the Rare Books reading room at the Library of Congress. This is my friend—”

Stone put out his hand. “Sam Billings, nice to meet you.” He motioned to the other two Camel Club members. “The big fellow is Reuben and that’s Milton. And you are?”

She ignored Stone and focused on Caleb. “If you work at the library, you must love books as much as Jonathan did.”

Caleb brightened as the subject changed to his specialty. “Oh, absolutely. In fact, in his will Jonathan named me his literary executor. I’m in the process right now of inventorying his collection, having it appraised and then sold, with the proceeds going to charity.”

He stopped talking when he saw Stone motioning him to shut up.

She said, “That certainly sounds like Jonathan. I’m assuming his father and mother are dead?”

“Oh, yes, his father’s been dead for years. His mother passed two years ago. Jonathan inherited their home.”

It seemed to Stone that the woman was working hard not to smile at this last piece of information. What had the lawyer told Caleb? That the marriage had been annulled? Perhaps not by the wife, but by the groom at the insistence of his parents?

She said to Caleb, “It would be nice to see the house. And his collection. I’m sure it’s very extensive by now.”

“You knew about his collection?” Caleb asked.

“Jonathan and I shared a lot of things. I’m not going to be in town very long, so would tonight be okay?”

“As it happens, we were going over there this evening,” Stone answered. “If you’re staying at a hotel, we can pick you up.”