There was silence, followed by a slurred voice. The words were hard to understand, but the tone was not. The second man was frantic. Terrified. “No, please no. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. Just… Oh, God. No.” There was another moan, then a laugh followed by a dragging sound, and the southern voice became muffled.
Once again Nick put his ear to the speaker. “Let’s take a ride, Mr. Sanders. I call it my time machine. Now you’ll see what happens to thieves.”
Nick looked up, his face as stunned as Vito felt. “Meet E. Munch.”
Wednesday, January 17, 3:00
P.M.
Daniel Vartanian had stopped for a Philly cheesesteak for lunch. It would probably be the high point of his day, because he’d had no success in his search. The locals, he’d learned, took their cheesesteak with Cheez Whiz. The food was delicious and steaming hot, which was good because he was starving and freezing cold.
He didn’t think he’d ever been so cold. He didn’t know how Susannah had adapted to winters in the North, but he knew she had. They hadn’t talked in years, but he’d followed her career. She was an up-and-comer in the New York DA’s office. His smile was grim. Together they were Law and Order. It didn’t take a shrink to figure out why.
I know what your son did. Daniel had dedicated his life to making up for what Arthur Vartanian’s son had done and for what Arthur had not. Susannah had done the same. His mother had been caught in the middle, but she’d made her choices. Wrong ones.
His cell phone rang. It was Chase Wharton. His boss would want an update. He’d be honest. Mostly. “Hey, Chase.”
“Hey. Did you find them?”
“Nope, and Philadelphia has a hell of a lot of hotels.”
“Philadelphia? I thought you were going to the Grand Canyon.”
“My dad’s PC showed he’d searched for oncologists in Philadelphia. I figured they’d come up here to start their vacation.”
“Your sister is only a few hours away,” Chase said quietly.
“I know.” And he knew what Chase was intimating. “And, yes, they’d be two hours away and not drop in on either of us. Like you said, I have a fucked-up family.”
“But no sign of foul play?”
I know what your son did. “No, Chase, I’ve found no evidence of foul play. If and when I do, I’ll blast my way to the local cops faster’n you can say Cheez Whiz.”
“All right. Be careful, Daniel.”
“I will.” Daniel hung up, sick with himself, sick with this whole situation. Quite possibly he was sick with his whole life. He wrapped his sandwich and tossed it in the paper sack. He’d lost his appetite. He’d never lied to Chase. Never lied to any of his bosses. I know what your son did. He’d just never told the whole truth.
And if he found his folks… alive… well, then, he wouldn’t have to start. He started his car and headed to the next hotel.
New York City, Wednesday, January 17, 3:30
P.M.
Derek Harrington stopped at the steps to his walk-up apartment, miserable. He’d had a life. A career he loved, a wife he adored, a daughter who looked at him with pride in her eyes. Now he couldn’t even look himself in the eye. Today he’d sunk to a new low. He’d walked past the police station five times but hadn’t gone in. According to his contract, Derek would get a settlement should he ever choose to quit. That settlement would pay his daughter’s college tuition. His silence would ensure his daughter’s future.
Lloyd Webber’s son would never have a future. He knew the boy was dead, just as he knew he’d have to tell the police his suspicions about Frasier Lewis. But the power of gold was strong and had him firmly in its grip. The power of gold. He started up the stairs. oRo. He and Jager had named their company well. He had his key in the door when he flinched at the sharp jab to his kidney. A gun. Jager or Frasier Lewis? Derek didn’t think he wanted to know.
“Don’t speak. Just obey.”
Derek now knew who held the gun. And he knew he was going to die.
Philadelphia, Wednesday, January 17, 4:45
P.M.
Vito jogged from his truck up the stairs to the library. This better be good, he thought. He’d had to move the five o’clock meeting to six and now he’d be late meeting Sophie at her grandmother’s nursing home.
But the call he’d received from librarian Barbara Mulrine sounded like it could be another big break. He’d dropped Nick off at the precinct with Jill Ellis’s answering machine. Nick was going to get the electronics guys to clean up the tape before six.
Barbara was waiting with Marcy at the desk. “We tried to get him to come in, but he wouldn’t,” Barbara said, bypassing any greeting.
“Where is he?” Vito asked.
Marcy pointed to an elderly man sweeping the floor. “He’s afraid of the police.”
“Why?”
“He’s from Russia,” Barbara said. “He’s here legally, I’m sure of that. But he’s been through a lot. His name is Yuri, and he’s been in the U.S. for less than two years.”
“Does he speak English?”
“Some. Hopefully enough.”
It took Vito less than five minutes to realize that “some” wasn’t nearly enough. The old Russian had talked to “a man” about “Miss Claire.” After that, what they had was a failure to communicate bilingually. This was going to take longer than he thought.
“I’m sorry,” Barbara said softly. “I should have told you to line up an interpreter.”
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.” Vito sighed. Getting a Spanish interpreter took long enough. Getting a Russian one could take hours. It didn’t look like he’d be meeting any archeologists or opera legends tonight. He’d have to take the old man in while they waited for the interpreter. At least he could get other work done. “Sir, I need you to come with me.” He held out his hand and the old man’s eyes widened in fear.
“No.” Yuri’s hands clutched the handle of his broom and it was then Vito saw his misshapen knuckles. The man’s hands had been broken, years ago it appeared.
“Detective,” Barbara murmured. “Please don’t do this to him. Don’t make him go.”
Vito held up both hands in surrender. “Okay. You can stay here.”
Yuri looked at Barbara and she nodded. “He’s not going to make you go anywhere, Yuri. You’re safe here.”
Warily, Yuri turned away and went back to sweeping.
“You wouldn’t get him to talk to you if you forced him to go to the station,” Barbara said. “You can leave, and I’ll stay here with him until you can get an interpreter.”
Vito smiled ruefully. “That might take hours. You’ve been here all day.”
“I don’t mind. I didn’t like Claire Reynolds, but I don’t want whoever killed her to get away with it. And I promised Yuri a long time ago that he’d be safe here.”
Vito’s opinion of the librarian climbed another notch. “I’ll do my best to help you keep that promise.” He dug his cell from his pocket. “Now I have to break a date.”
She made a sad face. “That’s a shame.”
Vito thought of his double bonus prize. “You have no idea.” He walked to the window and dialed Sophie’s cell. She answered right away. “Sophie, it’s Vito.”
“What’s wrong?”
He’d thought he’d stripped the stress from his voice. “Nothing. Well, yeah, something. Look, I may have a break in this case and I have to stick with it. I may be able to meet you later, but it’s not looking good.”
“Can I help with anything?”
My double bonus prize, he thought, but made himself focus. “Actually, you can. We’re going to want you to tell us about medieval punishments for theft.”
“I can do that. Do you need me to come to the station?”