Libby gave a snort. Marty nodded encouragement.
I took a swallow of the tea, which was lukewarm. Silver might be pretty, but it lost heat quickly. “So I talked to a colleague of mine in Georgetown yesterday, at an institution similar to the Society, and I’ve got a chat lined up for tomorrow with another colleague in Boston. Diane pretty much confirmed what we suspected. I think we’re definitely on to something.”
“So tell us,” Marty urged impatiently. Phil sat like a mouse at her side, nibbling on a cookie.
“First, there was a significant theft at her place, although they kept it quiet to protect the reputation of the institution. And it corresponded to Charles’s time there.”
“Yes!” Marty exclaimed, slapping her knee. “I knew it.”
I went on. “Second, he apparently seduced the person in charge of the collections, and she lost her job after the theft.”
Libby had been quiet but burst out now. “Why hasn’t anybody put this together? How is it that he keeps getting bigger and better positions?”
I glanced at Marty before answering. “Probably because the women involved feel embarrassed or ashamed or stupid, and they’d rather not say anything-besides, who would they tell? They got taken in by a slick line and some nice suits, and then they got dumped when they were no longer useful, without even knowing why. There hasn’t been any evidence to pin on him for the thefts, unless you count the fact that he was around for all of them. And since the institutions kept these things quiet, how would anyone know?”
“Jesus, doesn’t anybody check references anymore?” Marty said in a tone of disgust.
“Marty, you should know it doesn’t work like that,” I protested. “He hasn’t lied on his résumé. He’s got a nice list of scholarly publications, speaking engagements, activities in national organizations-all the stuff you look for in a job applicant. And, as I said, the women he’s used wouldn’t want to say anything-after all, what harm has he done? Nothing illegal, as far as they know. And finally, as a board member you know the potential fallout if you say anything negative about someone and it gets back to him-you risk getting sued. I’ll bet most places were glad to see the back of him, so of course they’d say wonderful things about him just to get him out of their hair.”
Marty turned to her silent, wide-eyed nephew. “Phil, you are getting an invaluable education about the realities of the working world. I do hope you’re paying attention.”
I had a last point to add. “Oh, and one other thing-the FBI called Diane. That’s both good and bad. At least we know they’re thinking along the same lines we are and checking out Charles’s history. But the downside is, if anyone at these institutions puts two and two together, the word of our thefts is going to get out. I more or less had to admit to Diane that we shared a problem.”
Marty said promptly, “Good for Jimmy. I told you he was smart. But it sounds like we need to nip this in the bud, before it gets any worse.”
Libby drawled, “So I still get to do my femme-fatale routine?”
“Looks like it, if you’re still willing. Uh, ladies?” I didn’t quite know how to approach this, but I thought I should at least mention it. “I did a little research. You know that taping a conversation is illegal in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania without the consent of all the parties?” I knew I sounded like a priss, but I had been doing my homework on the Internet, and I thought they needed to know that. “In fact, bugging someone’s place is illegal. Just so you know…”
“Oh, pooh,” Marty said. “So what?”
“It means that anything we hear, we can’t use as evidence. And the FBI will be extremely annoyed at us. And finally, Marty, you’re dragging Phil here in as a co-conspirator.”
Young Phil volunteered something for the first time. “Excuse me, but there is an exception to that-if you record something you could normally overhear.”
I burst out laughing at the image that conjured up for me. “Great. Libby, all you have to do is tell Charles that you have an ear infection that affects your hearing, so that he has to yell at you to be heard, and then Marty and I can stand on the sidewalk outside, holding a microphone up to the window. Can’t you just see it? Real subtle.”
Marty was trying to suppress her own laughter. “Ah, Nell, don’t worry about it. We’re not trying to gather proof for prosecution-let Jimmy do that. That’s what the FBI is for. We just want to verify why Charles thinks he needs money-and stop him.”
Poor Phil’s eyes just kept getting wider and wider. I was not convinced, but I wasn’t about to pull the plug. As long as Libby didn’t feel threatened by this game of ours, I was willing to go along. I threw up my hands. “All right, I’m in. But remember, no court is going to be happy about this.”
Marty turned to Phil again. “OK, whiz kid, show us what you’ve got.”
He cast a shy smile around the group. “Aunt Marty said you wanted some transmitters that were small, easy to hide, but with good pickup. I forgot to ask how far you wanted to transmit-are you going to be close by? Do you want to listen in, in real time, or do you want something voice activated, that just records when somebody is talking?”
We exchanged glances-clearly we hadn’t thought that far. “What’s the potential range?” I asked.
“Depends. You could park in a car outside the house, or you could sit in a restaurant a couple of blocks away. The further you want to go, the more the stuff costs.”
I hadn’t considered what this might cost us. I looked at Marty. She waved her hand at me, so I guessed I didn’t need to worry about that. I turned back to the young genius.
“I can’t see Marty and me freezing our tails off in a car, listening in, and we’d be pretty obvious on the street. And it’s not like we’ll have to burst in and rescue you in the pinch, right, Libby?”
“I think I can manage to take care of myself, thank you,” she said.
“So nearby would be good, maybe under a block. Can we record from there, too?”
“No problem,” said young Phil.
Marty interrupted. “There’s a nice, quiet restaurant the next block over, almost directly behind Charles’s house. Would that work?” Phil nodded. “Nell and I can settle ourselves there and listen in.” Marty fixed Libby with a calculating eye. “Unless, of course, you’re planning to spend the night?”
Libby laughed. “I’ll keep my options open. I wouldn’t want to tip him off, now would I? Besides, he’s great between the sheets. Wouldn’t you agree, Nell?”
I tried to look sophisticated and worldly. “Um, yes.” I avoided looking at young Phil. He was getting a varied education today.
She gave me one last look, then took pity and changed the subject. “So the plan is that Nell plants the bugs in Charles’s house during their big breakup, then the next night you two sit in the restaurant and listen to him and me do some heavy breathing, right?”
Poor Phil didn’t know what to make of this, and studied his shoes intently.
Marty spoke briskly. “More or less, Libs. Phil, we’ll go with the recording device at the restaurant with us-what’s that, a couple hundred feet? Now, where can we put the bugs? How many can we use? How do we attach them?”
The conversation got technical, but luckily Phil seemed to know what he was talking about, and in the end we decided that we needed two bugs: one in the living room and one in Charles’s bedroom, each with a pickup range of ten feet, and each recording independently. Phil told us that he could get equipment that would record a sneeze on the street a block away, but we assured him that was probably overkill. He looked disappointed. Marty and I would each be equipped with unobtrusive earpieces and a small recorder, so we could sit at a table in the restaurant and not attract too much attention.