“Your name came up.”

Goddard’s cheeks colored. “Like grandfather like grandson.”

“What can you tell me about his grandfather?”

“Nothing. It’s all just rumors and having been the victim of flapping tongues, I should know better than to pay credence to idle talk.”

“Jason told me that his great-grandfather and his grandfather had special privileges in Russia during the Soviet regime. In the early years, they picked up a lot of religious art and icons at discounted prices because no one wanted it.”

Goddard looked upward, debating what to say. “Discounted prices may be an understatement.”

“Meaning?”

“Let’s just say the regime was unstable and a lot of looting was going on. And that’s all you’ll get out of me.”

Decker knew when to push and when to move on. “I know you don’t recognize the names of the victims. Could I show you pictures? Maybe they used different names.”

A sigh. “Why not?”

“This is Angeline Moreau,” Decker told him. “She was an art major at Littleton College. She made frequent trips to the Boston area as well as trips to New York City.”

Goddard barely gave the photo a glance. “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“Okay.” Decker wondered why people made statements like that. How do you know everyone you have or haven’t seen? “What about John Latham?”

It took Goddard even less time to blow Decker off. “I’ve never seen him, either.”

The man was reaching the end of his tether. Decker said, “And you’re sure you’ve never had any contacts—”

“I don’t know them, sir, and I’ve certainly never dealt with them. Is there anything else?”

McAdams said, “Would you mind if we took a look around the gallery?”

“Whatever for?”

“How can I tell my dad about you if I don’t know what you have?”

“Oh . . . yes, of course. I’m sorry if I seem so rude. All this nonsense and rumors with New York has stirred up old memories. It was a bad time for me.”

McAdams said, “Fortis in arduis.”

“Isn’t that the truth!” Goddard sat down at his desk. “Of course, take a look around. And I won’t hover. I’ll be doing paperwork if you have questions. If not, please enjoy.”

The two men left his tiny office and began perusing the inventory. Goddard had everything in no particular order. Some of it was displayed, some of it seemed incidental. There was furniture, paintings, silver, porcelain, old lamps and lighting fixtures hanging from the ceilings, carpets on the pine floors. There were sets of china, antique linens, vintage cookware, and fireplace accoutrements. Shelves and racks and rows of curios were stuffed into every nook and cranny. Decker said, “Do you know anything about antiques?”

“Only to say that this is pretty standard stuff: eighteenth- and nineteenth-century European. Not the right place to fence Tiffany.” McAdams picked up a Rosenthal cobalt platter.

Decker pointed to the wall. He whispered, “Framed antique map.”

“I noticed.” The kid put the platter down. “Also antique plant prints.”

The men continued to hunt around. McAdams whispered, “I was using phrases from the notebook by the way.”

“I gathered that.”

“Tried to work them in as seamlessly as possible.”

They regarded a shelf of silver. Decker said, “Go tell him good-bye and I’ll meet you outside. He likes you better than he likes me.”

McAdams smiled. “Must be my charm.”

A moment later, they were walking back on Newbury, headed toward the rental. It was dark, cold, and misty, but the street was well lit, which mitigated the gloominess.

“Do you want to pick up some coffee before we head back?” Decker asked.

“Sure. Let’s go to Dunkin’ Donuts. I’ve developed a taste for cronuts.”

Decker got into the driver’s seat, turned on the motor, and warmed up the engine. “Want to tell me what the Latin meant?”

“Sure. Fortes fortuna adiuvat means ‘fortune favors the bold.’ Fortis in arduis literally means ‘strong in difficulties’: sort of what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. He used the phrase Mala fide means—”

“In bad faith.” When McAdams looked at him, Decker said, “Not hard to figure out. Also law school.”

“Right.” McAdams rubbed his hands together.

Decker said, “Who do you know at Harvard who does codes?”

“A professor I had. Brilliant guy. Codes are his hobby.”

“Hold on.” On speakerphone, Decker called Mulrooney and asked the Summer Village detective if it was all right to show the notebook to a third party at Harvard.

“I could probably find someone at Tufts,” Mulrooney said.

“Latham worked at Tufts,” Decker said. “I’d rather use another university.”

“That makes sense,” Mulrooney said. “What’s that guy’s name?”

“Dr. Mordechai Gold,” Tyler told him. “He’s a tenured professor in the math department. I took his class on game theory. I doubt that he’ll remember me, but he’s brilliant and I know he’s an expert at code cracking. He’s probably not going to be able to help us right away, but at least we can drop off the notebook.”

Mulrooney said, “Yeah, you can call him up. Let me know what he says. Keep me in the loop, guys.”

“As soon as we have a clue, we’ll pass it on.” Decker hung up his cell.

McAdams was on his phone. “Okay, I’ve got a department number.” He punched in the numbers. “Do you want to talk to him or should I?”

“You do it.”

“Right.” McAdams pressed the green button. After being put on hold, he was finally connected to Professor Gold’s office. “It’s a machine.” He waited. “Hello, Professor Gold, this is Detective Tyler McAdams from Greenbury Police Department in upstate New York. I took your game theory class four years ago and I remember your expertise in code cracking. My partner, Detective Peter Decker, and I are working a puzzling case and could use some advice. If you could call me, I’d appreciate it.” Tyler left his cell number, Decker’s cell number, and then he hung up.

“Perfect,” Decker said. “You didn’t tell him anything specific but you piqued his interest. You’re turning pro, McAdams. I now have a partner instead of dead weight.”

“You have a way with words, Decker.”

“Don’t I though? Clearly your brains are paying off.” Decker put the car into drive and grinned. “Now all we have to do is work on the brawn.”

CHAPTER 23

FUELED UP ON coffee and carbs, Decker drove back to Greenbury on the highway, keeping an eye out for silver vans and black ice. He thought McAdams was dozing off, but then the kid suddenly sat up and dry washed his face.

Tyler checked his watch. “Six-thirty. It feels like eleven. I hate winter: the long, dark, cold nights. No wonder there’s so much drinking and screwing in college.”

“Don’t blame that on winter,” Decker said. “California universities have just as much drinking and screwing.” A pause. “What’s your take on Goddard? Anything in the shop worth beaucoup bucks?”

“Nothing worth killing for. His shop has a little of this and a little of that: a perfect front to fence stolen items.”

“Like the framed antique maps and prints,” Decker said. “And he had some antique books behind the glass case. I noticed The Long Goodbye by Raymond Chandler. That has to be worth something.”

“If it’s a first edition, yes. There was also a Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust.”

“Given his reputation in New York, Goddard as a fence doesn’t seem like a stretch. But do you see him as a murderer?”

“No. He’d never get his hands dirty. Maybe he hired someone.”

“Do you see him arranging contract killings? Knowing those kinds of people?”

“I know this sounds pedestrian, but I watch those true crime shows. It seems pretty easy to get some lowlife to shoot someone. It doesn’t even take that much money.”

“But Latham’s murder did not have any hallmarks of being an amateur hit. Someone was proving a point. You fuck with me, this is what happens. Do you see Goddard setting up a professional hit?”