“At the New York Public Library. I’d seen her there over the years, exchanged pleasantries and such, and I was aware that she’d built up a good reputation for herself,” Herrick said, resting his teacup on the mantel above the fireplace. “It seemed the perfect opportunity for both of us, with my collection and her skill.”

“Wasn’t she already working for someone else?”

“Jasper Hunt. She’d been hired by someone to do some projects for the old man himself.”

“Not hired by him?”

“Jasper? Entirely gaga at this point, Detective. At least, that’s what I heard. It was probably one of his children, trying to get their greedy hands on his treasures,” Herrick said, taking a sip of his tea. “You’ve met them, have you?”

“Tell me what you know,” Mike said.

“Talbot’s a bookman. That’s how collectors are known. The father always favored him because Tally’s got the same nose for books as Jasper, the same appreciation-had it since he was a child. He’s probably close to fifty now, a bit younger than me. Been very involved in running the family property empire, expanding it to pass on to his children.”

“So they get on, father and son?”

Alger Herrick ran his finger along the edge of the mantel. “There are others closer to Jasper who could tell you more than I.”

“But you’ve heard rumblings. You must have had something in mind when you hired Tina Barr away.”

“Idle gossip around the library,” Herrick said. “Tally’s getting impatient, hoping to keep some of his father’s fortune in the family. Make sure it isn’t all given away. That sort of thing.”

“Even to the library?” Mike asked. “Even though he’s on the board?”

“I have the impression that Tally would like to have control of something substantial at this point in his life. Something of his very own. There’s a certain feeling of entitlement that comes over a man like that by the time he’s reached middle age. His grandfather was such an eccentric that no one’s quite sure how much of the fortune is still intact. A lot of the Hunt money has already been given away, and Jasper himself kept threatening to change the provisions of his will. Mind you, that’s just the talk.”

“And Minerva?”

Alger Herrick raised his teacup. “I’ll have to switch to something stronger than this, Detective, if we’re to talk about that viper. I have a bad taste in my mouth at just the mention of her name.”

“Why so?”

“You seem intrigued by that one, Ms. Cooper,” Herrick said. He caught me staring at a beautifully drawn map of the European coastline, the compass roses highlighted in gold paint. “By all means have a closer look.”

“Minerva Hunt,” Mike said, drawing Herrick back to the conversation. “Why do you dislike her?”

“She’s a lightweight, Mr. Chapman. A complete cipher. Minerva’s a girl who was handed every advantage in life on a silver plate, and she still hasn’t worked out what to do with it all. Other than the income she derived from it, the family business never interested her. Books were Tally’s thing, so that put her off becoming a bibliophile. But even on a personal level, I know she’s been a great disappointment to Jasper,” Herrick said. “He confided that to me years ago.”

“How long have you known Jasper Hunt?”

“My goodness. Half my life, I suppose. It’s a small world we collectors live in. Very few of us with the means to indulge ourselves in this market. Jasper used to keep a flat in London, where I have a house. He was always there for the big sales and auctions. I learned a lot from him, from the time when I was just an eager young man. Jasper Hunt had a brilliant eye.”

“When did you first meet Tally and Minerva?” Mike asked.

“I think they were both still at university. Tally at Oxford, where his father had done a year as well. The old man had his eye on me for Minerva,” Herrick said, shaking his head at the thought. “He introduced me to her one weekend. She was in her first year at Bryn Mawr then.”

“So you dated?” Mike asked.

“Heavens, no. I was already engaged at the time. You’ve met her, haven’t you?”

“Yes, briefly.”

“Tough as nails, is that what you Americans say? I don’t know about you, Detective,” Herrick said, smiling at Mike, “but I like my women a bit softer.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Mike said, winking at me. “Fragile. Almost vulnerable.”

“Indeed.”

“Did you see Tina this week, after your return?”

“She was here on Monday,” Herrick said. “She was working upstairs in my study.”

“On what?” Mike asked.

“She finished her first big project for me-I let her audition on a piece of moderate value. And then she’s been sorting through some of my recent acquisitions, trying to help me determine which items are candidates for restoration.”

“When did you talk with her next?”

Herrick put his right hand in the deep pocket of his sweater, lowered his head, and started to pace around the perimeter of the room.

“Not again,” he said. “I haven’t spoken to her since.”

“Were you concerned when she didn’t show up yesterday?” Mike asked.

“Not at all. No. She wasn’t supposed to come in. She was planning to spend the day at the library. Tina was only working for me part-time. Due back today, actually.”

Herrick paused in front of one of the chapel’s stained-glass windows. The tapered conical ceiling rose almost thirty feet over his head, and although he was a tall man, he seemed almost overwhelmed by the space of the once-hallowed room.

“Have you done anything to try to find her?”

“I should think, Mr. Chapman, that responsibility falls on you. I barely know the woman, and if she chooses to take a holiday as a result of the break-in that Jill Gibson described to me, there’ll be plenty of work for her when she returns.”

“Mr. Herrick,” I said, standing to approach him, “what does Tina Barr have to do with Minerva Hunt?”

“I haven’t any idea, to be honest with you. Tina told me she’d met Minerva at Jasper’s home. The woman frightened her, quite frankly. I told Tina that she frightens lots of people.”

“You’ve done business with Minerva?”

“I’d hardly describe it as business. Every now and then she goes after something I’m keen on. She’s got in my way from time to time. Nothing serious, mind you.”

“But I thought you said she doesn’t collect?” I said.

“Not books, Ms. Cooper,” Herrick said, doubling back to the fireplace, crossing in front of it, pausing beside an enormous wooden stand, almost as tall as he, in which an antique globe was mounted. “Maps. Minerva Hunt likes to dabble in rare maps.”

“Like you.”

“I’m not a dabbler, Detective. With me, it’s a passion,” Herrick said. “I’m trying too hard to point out the differences between us, that’s true. There’s nothing scholarly about my interests. They’re purely visual. Very different from book collecting, I can assure you. I just go after the best-looking things.”

His self-deprecating comment was meant to belittle Minerva Hunt.

“You’ve got hundreds of books here, too,” Mike said, pointing up to the balcony from which we’d descended on our way in.

“Atlases mostly,” Herrick said. “You can circumnavigate the globe with those books, Mr. Chapman.”

“Did Jill Gibson tell you about the murder in Tina’s apartment last night?” I asked.

“She did. She called me a little while ago. Minerva’s maid, was it? Carrying one of Tally’s books. Something like that. I’m just glad Tina wasn’t at home when the bastard got there. Looking for something valuable, no doubt. How did the woman die?”

“Fractured skull, Mr. Herrick,” Mike said. “Split her head in half and crushed her brain. No use for the patron saint of the suffering, ’cause she didn’t suffer very long.”

Herrick didn’t react. “You think the killer knows Tina Barr?”

“I don’t know anything about him at this point, who he knew or what he wanted. Only that he was at least your height, ’cause the woman was tall, and the blow that took her down struck the crown of her head.”