“We went to the library and I checked out the book in the big wooden box.”

“Back it up for a minute,” Decker said. “Where were you when she asked you to do her a favor?”

“We were in my dorm room.”

“So she came to your dorm.”

“Yeah. I was surprised when she showed up. No phone call or text or e-mail. She just showed up.” He shook his head. “Shoulda known better.”

“So she went to your dorm room, you two had sex, and then you two went to Rayfield.”

“That about sums it up.”

“And you took your computer with you.”

“Always. I always have my phone, my pad, and my laptop. People steal things.”

“How about Angeline? What was she carrying with her?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “I didn’t pay attention.”

“If she was looking at the book for her thesis, she must have had her laptop, right?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Anything else?”

“I couldn’t tell you. I don’t even remember if she had her laptop.”

Decker paused. “She was an artist, right?”

“Yeah. A pretty good one, too.”

“Did she carry any materials with her?”

“Like an art box?”

“Or a portfolio case.”

“Yeah, she carried her portfolio case everywhere, never let it out of her sight. Like I said, she was a good artist, but it’s not like her stuff was worth anything.”

McAdams said, “Can I get back to the library for a moment? You said that while Angeline was looking at the book, you were playing with your laptop and she was sitting away from you.”

“Yeah.”

“Where was the reference librarian?”

“Beats me. I know I had to ring to get her when I wanted to turn in the book, so I guess she wasn’t at her desk the entire time.”

The men exchanged glances. McAdams said, “Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil?”

“Here.” Oliver tore off a sheet of paper and gave him a pen.

McAdams drew a map. “I was at the library this morning. As I recall, the reference area has six tables.” He quickly drew up a schematic and gave it to Terry. “Where were you sitting?”

Terry looked at the map. “Do you want to know where I was sitting or where she was sitting? Because I remember she was sitting next to the window here. And I probably was sitting here; clear across to the other side.”

“So you were sitting closer to the reference desk and Angeline’s table was the farthest from the reference desk.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m not saying, I’m asking. Look at the map and tell me if I’m right?”

Terry glanced at the rudimentary drawing. “Yeah, sure. That looks about right.”

“Could you see what she was doing?” Decker asked.

“I assumed she was looking at the book.”

“Let me ask it this way,” Decker said. “Was she in your direct line of vision?”

“Because it doesn’t look that way from my map,” McAdams said.

“I guess if I had been paying attention to her, I could have seen what she was doing. But I wasn’t. Why are you asking all these questions?”

Decker said, “Her thesis was on textiles, not icons. Why would she want a book on iconography? Did you ask her about it?”

“No. I didn’t ask her about it. Why would I care?” Terry looked at McAdams. “You said the book was valuable. Did she take it? Is that why she was killed?”

McAdams looked at Decker who said, “The book is still in the library. But some of the original plates have been stolen and replaced with forgeries.”

“Just like the Tiffany windows,” Sobel said.

Decker nodded.

“She’s the connection, right?”

“Jury is still out.” Decker quickly scanned his notes and then he looked at Terry. The thefts of the art plates didn’t seem to come as a shock to him from the expression on his face. “Thanks for seeing us, Lance. I may have a few more questions later on.”

“If you do, call instead.”

“Some conversations are better in person.”

“You didn’t have to sneak up like you did. I would have told you about the book in the first place, but I didn’t remember. There was no reason to terrorize the doorman.”

“We didn’t terrorize anyone,” McAdams said. “Besides, this is the Upper East Side. He’s dealt with far worse than us.”

“I have a question.” Sobel pointed to McAdams. “I see what happened to you. Am I in danger?”

Terry looked up and down and didn’t say anything. Decker raised his eyebrows. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

“Me? No . . . I mean, yeah. Are we safe?” Terry’s voice grew loud. “This is just terrific. Another legacy that the bitch left behind.”

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to tell me?”

“No,” Terry said.

“You never answered my question,” Sobel said.

“I wish I had an answer,” Decker said. “I’m carrying a gun. So is Detective Oliver. My wife is carrying a gun and has a full-time armed bodyguard.”

Terry began to pace. “You know my fucking name is on that index card. Anyone can look at it and hunt me down.”

“It’s not available to the public,” McAdams said. “I had to arm twist to get the librarian to give it to me.”

“Why isn’t that comforting right now?”

“I’ll get it pulled, Lance,” Decker said.

“I want it destroyed!”

“I’ll get it pulled by one of the men and locked up in an evidence room,” Decker said. “I can’t destroy it just yet because it might be evidence.”

“The whole thing is fucking whack!” Sobel said. “I repeat. What should I do?”

“What should we do?” Terry asked. “Like get out of town or something?”

Decker said, “Small towns make it very easy to find people.”

“I can vouch for that one,” McAdams said.

“So we sit around waiting to be shot?” Sobel said.

“It wouldn’t hurt to take precautions,” Decker said.

“You mean hire a guard?” Terry said. “You just waltzed right in. And if this asshole tried to take out a cop, what chance do I have?”

“I’m way more involved in this case than you are, Lance; I really don’t think either of you is on the bad guy’s radar.”

“But you don’t know.”

“True. I don’t know. If it were my kid, I’d look into armed protection. It’s probably not necessary, but there’s no harm in being cautious. Maybe even overcautious.” Decker paused. “Overcautious is okay. It’s usually the daredevils who get tripped up.”

CHAPTER 31

THE STOPOVER FOR the night was Nina McAdams’s ninth-floor apartment on Park Avenue. It was an august Beaux-Art building of stone and marble, staffed with uniformed doormen who were aghast to see Tyler in a wheelchair.

“What in the world happened to you, Mr. M?” asked the shorter of the two front doormen.

“Nina didn’t tell you?” No response. McAdams said, “Just a little accident, Jonah, but I’m fine. Is my grandmother upstairs?”

“She left for dinner.”

“At nine at night?”

“Yes, sir.”

“With whom?”

“A new one, Mr. M. I haven’t seen him before,” Jonah said. “But someone is still up there. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you?”

“No, I’m fine, but thanks for asking.” McAdams wheeled over to the elevator. The taller of the two uniforms rushed over to push the button and everyone waited. Decker was perfectly able to ride the elevator up without help but the upper crust of New York City lived an infantilized life. There was a ding and everyone crowded inside the wood-paneled car.

“How are you this evening, Dicky?” McAdams asked.

“Just fine, Mr. McAdams. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m not perfect, but I’ll be fine. If anything, I’m lucky.”

“If you say so, Mr. McAdams.”

The elevator opened up onto a spacious marble landing with only one door: Nina McAdams owned a full floor apartment. Decker knocked before Tyler could get out his keys, and when Rina asked who it was, he said, “It’s your tired husband and friends.”

She opened the door and the three men came into a wide marble foyer. McAdams forged ahead, wheeling himself into a majestic living room filled with ornate furniture, a large fireplace, a grand piano, a carved staircase leading to a second story, and big French doors that opened to a terrace with an over-the-rooftops view to Central Park. The space was adorned with molding and patterned hardwood floors covered in part by expensive-looking oriental rugs.