Page 183 of Homeport

“Better we keep it closed off a while yet.” Cook waited until Ryan moved out of the doorway, then shut the door. “No need to have Dr. Jones see all that again, is there?”

“No, no need at all.”

“But you wanted to see it again.”

“I wanted to see if I could get it all clear in my mind.”

“And have you?”

“Not entirely. There doesn’t appear to be any sign of a struggle, does there, Detective?”

“No. Everything tidy—but for the desk.”

“The victim and his killer would have been standing about as close as you and I are just now. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Give or take a few inches. Yeah, he knew who pulled the trigger, Boldari. You’d met him, hadn’t you?”

“Briefly, when he arrived Friday, and again on the night he died.”

“Never met him before that?”

“No, I hadn’t.”

“I wondered about that, seeing as you’re in art, he was in art.”

“There are a great many people in various areas of the business I haven’t met.”

“Yeah, but you know, it’s a small world. You move around this place pretty tame.”

“As do you,” Ryan murmured. “Do you think I came up here last night and put two bullets into Richard Hawthorne?”

“No, I don’t. We’ve got several witnesses who put you downstairs when the shots were fired.”

Ryan leaned back against the wall. His skin felt sticky, as if some of the nastiness in the next room had clung to him. “Lucky for me I’m a sociable guy.”

“Yeah—of course a few of those people are related to you, but there were those who weren’t. So I figure you’re clear. Nobody can seem to say where Dr. Jones, Dr. Miranda Jones, was during the time in question.”

Ryan came off the wall quickly, almost violently, before he controlled it. But the move had caused Cook’s eyes to flicker. “You two have gotten very friendly.”

“Friendly enough that I know Miranda’s the last person who could kill.”

Idly, Cook took out a stick of gum, offered it, then unwrapped it for himself when Ryan only continued to stare at him. “It’s funny what people can do with the right motivation.”

“And hers would be?”

“I’ve done a lot of thinking about that. There’s the bronze, the one from here, the one that got lifted out of a display case very slick, very professional. I tracked a number of burglaries with that pattern. Somebody knows what they’re doing, somebody’s damn good at their job, somebody has connections.”

“So now Miranda’s a thief—an expert art burglar?”

“Or she knows one, is friendly enough with one,” he added with a thin smile. “Funny how the paperwork on that piece went away too. Even funnier how I did some checking with a foundry this place uses, found out somebody else was doing some checking there. Somebody who claimed he was a student here at the Institute, gave a song and dance about checking on a bronze figure that was cast there about three years ago.”

“And that would have exactly what to do with this?”

“The name he gave at the foundry doesn’t check with the records here. And the bronze he was so interested in was a statue of David with sling. Seems he even had a sketch of it.”

“Then that might have something to do with your burglary.” Ryan inclined his head. “I’m delighted to know you’re making some progress there.”

“Oh, I plod right along. Seems Dr. Jones—Miranda Jones taught a class on Renaissance bronze figures.”

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