Fiegen nodded his head slightly. “That would mollify the situation somewhat,” he said softly. “In fact, news of a major art theft would elevate the museum’s profile, probably even attendance, if”—he emphasized the word—“the Lily is recovered.” In a louder voice he added, “We should hold off on any public announcement. Should members criticize us later, we’ll tell them that we remained silent at the behest of—what was his name, Lieutenant Rask? We’ll insist he asked us to keep quiet about the theft so as not to compromise his investigation.”
I had to smirk at that. The police get blamed for so much bullshit.
“In the meantime, Mr. Gillard must be informed. That cannot wait.”
“I’ll see to it,” Perrin said.
Throughout the conversation, Anderson had been staring at me, a snarl on his lips.
“McKenzie.” He said the word like it was an obscenity.
“Derek.” I tried to match his inflection but failed.
“If you had kept your mouth shut—”
“It’s murder,” I said.
“The whole point of involving you in this matter was to protect the museum from—”
“It’s murder,” I repeated. I thought that should have been enough to explain my actions, only Anderson wasn’t buying it.
“Adverse publicity,” he continued. “Now, thanks to you, we’ll be the laughingstock of the industry.”
I hadn’t thought of art museums and galleries as being “an industry,” yet what else would you call it?
“Don’t blame me, pal,” I said. “I didn’t steal the Lily. I didn’t kill Tarpley.”
“You can fix it.”
“Fix it, how?”
“We must retrieve the Lily. We must.”
“We?”
Perrin opened her eyes and leaned forward. “Mr. McKenzie, we are relying on you,” she said.
“Forget it.”
“McKenzie,” Fiegen said.
“It’s murder, boys and girls, and that’s where I draw the line. I’m not going to get shot for a glorified centerpiece.”
“We need you,” Perrin said.
“No, you don’t. I have no idea why the artnappers picked me, but if I’m not available, they’ll find someone else. That’s assuming they call back. They might not. Hell, if I were them, I’d be on the first stage out of Dodge.”
“You’re a coward,” Anderson said.
Some men, if they called me that, I’d be hurt or angry to the point of reprisal. Anderson wasn’t one of them. I smiled.
“You should see me do the chicken dance,” I said.
“Coward,” he repeated.
Fiegen leaned forward in his seat, effectively inserting himself between Anderson and me. “Do you really believe the thieves will abandon their plan now?” he asked.
“Depends on how greedy they are. Originally, they knew they could depend on your”—I glanced at Perrin—“what did you ask for? Discretion? The thieves were reasonably sure there would be no police involvement, which meant they were relatively safe. The murder of Tarpley brings the cops into it. Possibly they didn’t mean to kill Tarpley. Or maybe they thought his body wouldn’t be discovered until after they completed their business. I can’t say. I can say, however, that suddenly trading the Lily for cash has become a dangerous thing to do—for them and for me. They’d be silly to try it. I’d be even sillier.”
“Still, they might call.”
“They might. Like I said, it depends on how greedy they are.”
“Mr. Donatucci,” Fiegen said. “What is your opinion?”
Donatucci tore his gaze from the painting that had so mesmerized him for the length of the meeting. “They’ll go forward with the exchange,” he said.
“What makes you think so?” I asked.
“It’s what they do for a living.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way, although he was probably right. This was their job.
“I bet they have more guts than you do, McKenzie,” Anderson said.
“In that case, you’re all set,” I said. “If the thieves, the killers, call back asking for their money, you can deliver it. Whaddaya say, Derek?”
Derek didn’t say.
I was sitting at the bar at Rickie’s. Nina was sitting next to me. She was drinking coffee, so I did, too.
“How did it go last night?” I asked.
Nina yawned. When she finished, she said, “They said they saw and felt spiritual energy. Whether or not they captured any of that energy on camera or their audio files remains to be seen. They also claim there were noises and objects moving on the stage upstairs.”
“Did they get that on film?”
“Who knows?” Nina started to laugh. “It’s all so silly.” She rested her head on the bar top.
“At least these guys seemed to be serious ghost hunters, if there is such a thing,” I said. “Not like those nitwits on the Travel Channel that mock the ghosts, call them names, and then squeal like little girls on a backyard sleepover whenever anything happens.”
Nina’s head came up in a hurry. “You watch these shows?” she said.
“I might have caught an episode or two.”
Nina whacked me in the arm. “You watch this stuff, you like this stuff, and you left me alone with those lunatics?” She whacked me again. “What kind of boyfriend are you?”
“The hockey game was on.”
She whacked me again.
“I don’t believe it,” she said.
“I could come over tonight…”
“Forget it. Between these people and getting Rickie off, I’ve had like an hour’s sleep. Besides, what about your Jade Lily?”
“I decided not to get involved in that mess.”
“You’re not going after it?”
