Marty staggered in with a tray loaded with wine, glasses, and bowls of munchies. “Here, just clear that junk off the table.”
I swept aside a stack of magazines and newspapers, and she set down the tray and sat down with a sigh of relief.
“There. Help yourself.”
I was a bit at a loss. I felt as though I was there under false pretenses, because I didn’t for a minute think that this was a polite social occasion. I decided to take the bull by the horns.
“Marty, I’m flattered that you want to have dinner with me, but I have to admit I don’t really know why I’m here, and I’d rather be clear about that before we eat.”
“Good for you-never break bread with the enemy, eh? Fair enough.” She bounced out of her chair again to fetch something and a moment later returned with a large envelope. She reached in and pulled out a sheaf of papers. I recognized it as a copy of Alfred’s list. Had he shared it with her? And why? She waved it at me. “You know what this is?”
For about a millisecond, I thought about denying it, and then I decided that it would be better to have Marty as an ally, given her clout with the board. “Yes. It’s a list Albert put together of things he thought were missing from the Society. He left a copy on my desk, before he… died.”
“Bingo.” Marty threw herself into her chair, draped her legs over the arm, and reached for her glass. “I’m glad you’re not going to play games with me-saves time. What do you know?”
I picked up my wineglass, stalling. “Let me ask first, do you think the missing Terwilliger papers are part of something larger?”
“I’m not sure yet, but there sure does seem to be some kind of pattern. You agree?”
“I’m afraid I do. But nobody else wants to believe it.”
“Who’ve you talked to?”
“Other than Alfred? Well, I asked Felicity and Rich about what you told me you were looking for. But about Alfred’s list, I went to Latoya, since she’s head of collections.”
“That it?” Marty fixed me with an eagle eye.
I debated with myself, then said, “I also told Charles that there was something going on and that he should expect to hear about it from Latoya.”
“Pillow talk, huh?”
So she knew? I had hoped Charles and I had been discreet. All right, cards on the table. “Not that it’s any of your business, but why do you ask?”
Marty pondered her answer. “If you and Charles want to fool around, that’s no concern of mine, but I’m trying to work out who knows what. I guess I’m trying to figure out if I trust you. To be blunt, I was testing you.”
With deliberation I set my wineglass back on the side table. “What do you mean?” I said.
“Oh, don’t get up on your high horse. Look, I’ve known there was something funny going on at the Society for a while, but when it reached my family papers, it got personal. So I told you.”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “I wondered about that-why me? Why not go to Latoya or Charles or the board?”
“All in good time. I told you, this was kind of a test. I wanted to see what you’d do about it. And you did everything right-asked all the right people. Good for you.”
I was really getting confused. “I still don’t understand. Are you saying you don’t trust the staff?”
“Nell, right now I’m not sure who to trust, now that Alfred’s gone.”
“You trusted Alfred?”
“Sure-he was a cousin, about three times removed. I’d known him all my life. And I got him the job at the Society.”
Oh. That was interesting. I knew Marty was related to half of Philadelphia society, but I’d had no idea Alfred was one of her many relatives. At least that explained why she had taken care of the funeral details-and maybe a lot more. “So he was keeping you informed? That’s why he sent you the list?”
“Yes. And he knew I’d be concerned about the family collection. I’m guessing he stuck that list in the mail to me the same time he left you a copy. I got it in the mail yesterday, but that was the first I’d seen of it-and the first I knew just how big this thing might be.”
I looked at my wineglass. It was still full, so the confusion I was feeling was not due to the wine. “Marty, this isn’t making any sense. If Alfred thought there was something going on, why didn’t he just tell Latoya?”
“He did, at least by his terms. You knew Alfred-he wasn’t very good at being pushy. He probably dropped a few hints here and there, but nobody paid him any mind.”
“He did tell me he had included what he suspected were losses in the monthly reports to Latoya,” I said slowly, “but according to Latoya, that level of missing items was to be expected. I don’t think he ever told her straight out what he suspected.”
“Latoya’s right, up to a point-museum records aren’t all that they should be, and that’s true at a lot of our peer institutions. But Alfred was worried that somebody had sticky fingers, and that was good enough for me. I’m sorry to say, Alfred got ignored a lot. He was kind of negligible, may he rest in peace. And you need to know that he had another reason to keep quiet, at least until he was really sure.”
“What?”
“I hate to speak ill of the dead, but to put it bluntly, cousin Alfred was a bona fide kleptomaniac. People with that problem take things, not because they need the money, but because they can’t stop themselves. The place he worked before… he sort of borrowed some of their artifacts. He didn’t sell them or anything, though, and all the articles were recovered, so I managed to keep it quiet with the help of a hefty donation. When I got him the job at the Society, I asked Felicity to keep an eye on him. She’d check his cubicle now and then to see what he’d picked up, and he was the first person she’d ask if she couldn’t find something. I’m guessing that’s why he was reluctant to tell anyone about the missing items, knowing he’d be the prime suspect.”
That explained why Felicity had been at the funeral. “So what made him tell me?”
“Well, I gather you were the first person who asked him about it directly. And I know he liked you-you actually took the time to talk to him. Most people ignored him. And looking at this list”-Marty held up the papers-“I think he started adding things up and got scared. This is serious stuff here.”
“I figured that much out.” I took a swallow of wine. “You saw Charles this morning-what did he say?”
“He said what you’d expect him to say. He was concerned, he was going to devote the full resources of the Society to getting to the bottom of this, and so on. The gist of it was, please go away and let us handle this-or not.”
I wasn’t surprised. “What else could he say? But I assume he and Latoya will put their heads together now. At least he’s been alerted.”
There was something else I had to ask Marty, even though I really didn’t want to. “Marty, don’t you think that the timing of Alfred’s death is kind of suspicious?”
Marty sat back in her chair and cocked her head at me. “So that’s got you wondering, too? Alfred stumbles on what might be major theft, then suddenly he dies? Yeah, frankly, it does seem suspicious to me.”
I finished my glass and poured myself some more wine before responding. “So, Marty, do you think someone actually killed Alfred?”
“The police called it an accident. He fell off a stool and hit his head and bled to death. He was such an odd duck that nobody wondered what he was doing wandering around the stacks then. Right?”