Page 184 of Homeport

“Being an expert in the field, I’m sure she’s taught several on the subject, or related ones.”

“One of her students used the foundry to cast a bronze David long after the missing bronze arrived for her to test.”

“That’s fascinating.”

Cook ignored the mild sarcasm in Ryan’s tone. “Yeah, it means there’s lots of little dangles wanting to be tied up. The student, he dropped out right after that bronze was cast. And you know, somebody checked with his mother, said they were from here, wanted to get in touch with him. Kid moved to San Francisco. A couple nights ago, they fished him out of the bay.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You’ve got family in San Francisco.”

This time Ryan’s eyes narrowed and sparked. “Be careful, Detective.”

“Just making a comment. Kid was an artist, you got an art gallery out there. I figured you might have known him. Name was Mathers, Harrison Mathers.”

“No, I don’t know a Harrison Mathers, but I can check easily enough to see if we display any of his work.”

“Might not be a bad idea.”

“Is this Mathers what you’d call another dangle?”

“Oh yeah, just one of those things that make you scratch your head. Then I start thinking about that big-deal bronze in Florence, the one that turned out not to be such a big deal. I’d think Dr. Jones would be pretty upset about that, pretty pissed off at her mother too, for kicking her off the project. I found out somebody stole that piece, went right into the storage area at the National Museum over there and took it, slick as spit. Now why would somebody want to take something, risk that kind of theft for something that isn’t worth more than the price of the metal?”

“Art’s a subjective mystery, Detective. Maybe someone took a liking to it.”

“Could be, but whoever did was a pro, not some half-ass thief. Pros don’t waste their time, unless they’ve got good reason. You’d agree with that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Boldari? Being a professional yourself.”

“Certainly.” Damned if he didn’t like this cop, Ryan mused. “I detest wasting time.”

“Exactly. Makes me wonder what that bronze is worth to somebody.”

“If I see it, Detective, I’ll do an appraisal and let you know. But I can tell you, if that bronze was real, if it was worth millions, Miranda wouldn’t kill for it. And I think you agree,” Ryan added. “Being a professional yourself.”

Cook chuckled. Something wasn’t square about the guy, he thought. But you had to like him. “No, I don’t think she killed anybody, and I can’t picture her dancing all over the world pinching pictures and statues. Woman’s got integrity pasted on her forehead. That’s why I know, in my gut, she’s hiding something. She knows more than she’s saying. And if you’re friendly enough with her, Boldari, you’ll convince her to tell me just what that is before somebody decides she’s expendable.”

She was asking herself just how much she could tell, how much she could risk telling. In the South Gallery, surrounded by the art of the masters, she sat with her hands over her face. And suffered.

She knew Cook was upstairs. She’d seen him come in, and like a child avoiding a lecture, had slipped behind a doorway until he’d passed by.

When her mother came in, she let her hands fall into her lap.

“I thought I might find you here.”

“Oh yes.” Miranda rose and picked up one of the champagne flutes from a huddle of them on a table. “Reliving past glories. Where else would I be? Where else would I go?”

“I haven’t been able to find your brother.”

“I hope he’s sleeping. It was a difficult night.” She didn’t add that he hadn’t been sleeping, at least not in his own bed, when she left the house that morning.

“Yes, for all of us. I’m going to the hospital. Your father’s meeting me there. Hopefully Elise is up to visitors, and she’d hoped they would release her by this afternoon.”

“Give her my best. I’ll try to stop by later this evening, either the hospital, or the hotel if they’ve let her go. Please tell her she’s welcome to stay at the house for as long as she likes.”

“It would be awkward.”

“Yes, but I’ll make the offer nonetheless.”

“It’s generous of you. She—It was fortunate she wasn’t hurt more seriously. It could have been . . . We might have found her like Richard.”

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