“No apologies necessary. I did go back. Unfortunately we have more business in the city. Are you staying here, honey? We can move somewhere else.”

“Oh no, definitely not! I can go to the library. ”

An awkward pause.

Yasmine said, “Gabe told me you might be coming and going.” She stood up straight—all five feet two inches, one hundred pounds of her. “I just study here sometimes. It’s a little quieter.” She managed a tight smile and stuck out her hand to McAdams. “Yasmine Nourmand. I’m Gabe’s girlfriend.” A pause. “Do you know who Gabe is?”

McAdams cocked a thumb in Decker’s direction. “His foster son.” He shook her hand. “Where do you go to school?”

“Barnard. And you?”

“Graduated.”

“Lucky you.”

“It depends on the day.”

Another forced smile. Yasmine said, “I’ll just gather up my things—”

“You can study in the bedroom if you want,” Decker said. “You won’t bother us. If anything, we’ll bother you with our talking.”

“If you don’t need the bedroom, I’d really prefer to study here. I’m not real good with dorm life. I’m a little claustrophobic.”

McAdams looked around the spotless, modern apartment: gleaming dark floors, a sleek white couch, a simple oak table with four Plexiglas chairs upholstered in white leather backs and a baby grand Steinway. Good light from two big windows. It had an over-the-rooftops view of the park. “This is definitely preferable to a dorm.”

“Is Mrs. Decker coming in?”

“I’m meeting her tonight.”

“Okay. Say hi.”

“Would you like to go to dinner with us?”

A genuine smile. “That would be great.” A pause. “I’m not much on dorm food, either. It might be late. Like eight. I have a lab class. Is eight okay?”

“Eight is perfect. I’ll have Rina choose a place and make a reservation.” He turned to McAdams. “You’re welcome to come, Harvard, but I suspect you made plans.”

“You suspect wrong.”

“Then come.”

“Thanks.”

Yasmine said, “Can I bring my roommate? I’ll pay for her and everything. Her parents were real nice to me. They live in Long Island.”

“Absolutely and you don’t have to pay, honey.”

“In that case, can I bring my grandmother?” McAdams said. “I’ll pay for her and everything.”

Yasmine blushed. Decker said, “Tyler, behave yourself.”

“I’m serious. She has expressed a genuine interest in what I’m doing and she wants to meet you. And I know she’ll pick up the tab—”

“Harvard—”

“I’m just saying.”

“My kids might be coming.”

“Nina’s always up for socializing. It will be a veritable party. Probably the first I’ve been to in two years.”

“Amen to that,” Yasmine said.

“A kindred spirit.”

She began gathering up her books and papers. “Everyone I know hates parties yet everyone goes to them. I mean what’s the point?”

“I see you don’t drink.”

Decker laughed. “Do you know when Gabe will be back?”

“Two weeks if his agent doesn’t extend the tour.”

“Must be hard with him away so much.”

“Actually, Lieutenant, I’m okay with that. I’m not a natural student. I have to study real hard to get my grades and Gabe . . .” She made a face. “I love him to death, but he takes up a lot of my time when he’s here.” Another face. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“It’ll be our secret.”

Yasmine stuffed her material into a backpack. “See you later.” She disappeared behind a door.

McAdams said, “She reminds me of a cricket . . . all little and bony and chirpy and big eyes.”

“She’s Persian and comes from a very sheltered environment. I’ve got to hand it to her. She followed her dream by coming out here and being with Gabe.”

“The delusion of love.” Tyler picked up the box of files and laid them on the table. “What’s the plan, sir?”

“Eventually I’ll look through the files with a fine-tooth comb. Right now all we’re looking for are names of art dealers that Sugar and Arrenz interviewed. I want to run them by Maxwell Stewart. See if he or his dad knows them.”

“When are we meeting with Stewart?”

Decker checked his watch. It was twelve-thirty. “I’d like to pop by the gallery at three-thirty.”

“You didn’t make an appointment?”

“No, I did not.”

“How do you know he’ll be in?”

“Someone will be there. I assume whoever it will be has the capacity to call him up.”

“No need for sarcasm.”

“Pot . . . kettle . . . black.”

“Ha ha and ha.” McAdams opened the box. There were ten stuffed file folders inside. “What if Stewart’s name is in the file?”

Decker gave him a closed-mouth smile. “Then that should make my interview with Maxwell all the more interesting.”

AT THREE-THIRTY IN the afternoon, the sun was sinking behind the skyscrapers, casting long shadows over the avenues. The winds were strong and icy especially coming off the park. The skies had slowly dimmed as if someone had a rheostat to the ethers. Decker rang the bell to the gallery. Redheaded Jill looked up, recognized him, and buzzed them inside the sally port. A moment later, he and Tyler were standing inside warmth, light, and a lot of sparkle from gems he couldn’t afford.

“Is Max expecting you?” Jill asked.

“No, ma’am, but we’d like to talk to him.”

“Of course. Good news, I hope.” When Decker didn’t answer, she said, “He’s downstairs. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

She rushed downstairs and a minute later, she bound back up, “He’ll be up in a minute.”

“We can wait if he’s with a customer.”

“No, he’s . . . can I get either of you coffee or tea or hot cocoa?”

McAdams took off his coat. “Tea is fine. Herbal if you have it. And could you hang this up for me?”

Jill took Tyler’s coat and turned to Decker. “Can I take your coat as well?”

Decker took off his coat. “Thank you.”

“Tea?”

“That would be great.”

Jill took the heavy overcoats and came back a minute later with two teacups and saucers. “I hope it’s okay. It’s mint.” The phone buzzed. “Excuse me a moment.” She lifted the handset. “Okay. Sure.” She hung up. “Max says you can come down.”

“Thank you.” Decker picked up his tea and McAdams followed.

The overhead lighting was reduced to emphasize the Tiffany lamps, which seemed to twinkle and dance when illuminated. Max was sitting with a man in his early twenties in front of a display case of art nouveau desk items. They both stood up as the two detectives came down the stairs. The young lad was very lanky with a full, dark beard and limp hair that grazed his shoulders. His shoulders sagged and his head drooped. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt. Max had on his usual suit and tie. He wore a tense expression that he was desperately trying to mask with a forced smile. Decker’s eyes were on the men, McAdams’s eyes were on the objects.

Max said, “You saved me a phone call, Detective. Please sit.”

“Where should we put our cups?” Decker asked.

Max took them and put them on the floor. He said, “This is my first cousin-in-law, Livingston Sobel.”

“The expat from Brown,” Decker said to Max.

“Indeed. Liv, this is Detective Decker and Detective McAdams.”

The men shook hands. Decker said, “Thanks for seeing us on short notice.”

“Actually it was no notice, but that’s fine. Any news?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid.”

“In that case, Livingston has just been telling me a very interesting story. I was about to phone you, but since you’re here, why not hear it from the primary source.”

“Sure.” Decker took a chair and sat as delicately as he could. The chairs were collectibles.

McAdams took out an iPad. “What’s your password so I can get on the Net?”

“Why do you need to get on the Net?” Max snapped.

McAdams looked up at the sharp tone of voice. “I don’t really need it. It’s just that at every interview we’ve had, I seem to be looking material up. The pad is much faster than my phone.” He took out his smartphone. “I’m getting bars. Don’t worry about it.”