“Guess my mind comes from being the daughter of Holocaust survivors.”

McAdams had already pulled out his iPad. “Twelve thousand religious items and fifty thousand books assembled over two centuries by the Chasidic movement are in the Russian Library in Moscow. In 1991, a Moscow court ordered the library to turn over the items to Chabad, but then the Soviet Union collapsed and the judgment was set aside by the Russians. Then an American court sided with Chabad, but the Russians are refusing to honor the judgment claiming America has no jurisdiction in Russia.”

“That means loaned art—especially Russian art—might be seized in America,” Merritt said. “It really has had grave consequences for museum loans.”

“Such a pity,” Rina said.

Decker couldn’t quite hold back the smile. “Mr. Merritt, what can you tell me about the other two men left off the list? The names look Russian.”

“They are Russian and, honestly, I don’t remember them. Obviously they bought from me a while ago but I can’t place their names with faces.”

“Let me get this straight,” Oliver said. “They bought Russian art from you here in the United States and took it back to Russia?”

“I have better art than most of the Russian dealers. Like I told you, the crème de la crème was bought by my grandfather when no one wanted it.”

“If these men are clients, you must have invoice files on them,” Decker said.

“I should.” He sat down at his desk. After a minute, he sighed. “Their files are gone.” He looked at Tyler. “Perhaps you can find previous files?”

“You read my mind,” McAdams said. He poked away on the keyboard. “I can’t find any copies. Maybe he trashed them.” He kept typing. “Nothing in the recycle bin.” He looked up. “You could get an expert to go into the hard drive and see what was erased, but I can’t do it.”

“Are we done?” Merritt asked.

“For the moment.” Decker nodded. “Thank you.”

“Do I still get my free book or have you changed your mind?” Rina asked.

“Of course.” Merritt smiled. “I admire your grit.”

“Tell that to my husband.”

The crew left the gallery in search of a place open for an early lunch. McAdams said, “At least, we’ve narrowed down the list to three names.”

“Good work, Harvard.”

“I did the work, but I wasn’t the creative part of the equation.”

“A-hem,” Rina said.

Decker laughed. “Thank you very much, my brilliant wife.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So where does that leave us now?” McAdams asked.

“We’ve got names,” Decker said. “We do it the old-fashioned way: legwork. Or in your case, McAdams, we can call it wheel work.”

CHAPTER 33

NO MISSING PERSONS report has been filed,” Cindy told him. “How long has this Victor Gerrard been out of contact?”

“Around ten days to two weeks.” There was a pause on the line and Decker knew what Cindy was thinking, what any cop would be thinking.

“And you’re just reporting it now?”

“I just found out about it now.” He switched his cell to his other ear. “Look, honey, all I need is for someone to go over to his apartment just to make sure he’s not moldering.”

“I think someone would have reported a moldering body. It kinda stinks.”

“Please?”

“And you’re sure this is the right address?”

“No, I’m not sure.”

“And you don’t want to place an MP report? Make it a little more professional?”

“No need for the bureaucracy yet. It’s possible that we could locate him in New York.”

“So why don’t you let me know what happens in New York before I do anything.”

“It may take us a while. I just want to know if you have a dead body.”

Cindy said, “This is what I’m going to do because I love you. I’ll go to the apartment and see if I have a body. If I can’t find a body, I’ll see if something looks off. If something’s off, I’ll start the paperwork. But I’ll do it all in about an hour because it’s already been a while and I’d like to finish up my shift because it’s bad form to piss off your partner.”

“Thank you, Cynthia. You are the bomb. How are the kids?”

“Doing great. They love their new school. Come visit them for grandparents’ day. It’s in a few weeks.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Call me a cockeyed optimist. I choose once again to believe you.”

“Low blow. I’ll be there, I promise. I love you, dear.”

“Same.” She hung up. Decker walked back to the table where the gang had been seated for lunch. It was an overcrowded kosher vegetarian storefront with long wooden tables and hardback chairs, making the wheelchair the most comfortable seating in the café. There were a half-dozen mixed appetizers on the tabletop that probably looked better than they tasted and a pitcher of diluted, organic tea.

“She’s going over to his apartment in an hour, God bless her.” Decker sat down.

“Do we think Gerrard is still alive?” McAdams asked.

“I have no idea.” Decker picked up a mock chicken egg roll. Not too bad but then again anything fried, sugary, or salty always tasted okay. His cell rang. The window showed Radar’s cell. He depressed the button. “Hold on, Mike. Let me get to a spot where I can hear you.”

He stood up again and walked outside into the cold. The skies were gray and there were snow flurries, but it wasn’t as cold as it had been up north. He had gloves on his hands and a scarf around his neck, but he’d taken off his hat and left it in the restaurant. Icy flakes landed on his head like a bad case of airborne dandruff. “What’s going on?”

“I just got a call from a retired detective named Allan Sugar. I have no idea who he is, but since he asked for you, I’m assuming you know something about that.”

Oops. Decker said, “Sugar is the original detective on the Petroshkovich icon thefts. We think that Angeline Moreau was stealing plates from one of the original Petroshkovich books and subbing them with forgeries. To do that, she’d have needed copies of the originals and it would have looked suspicious if she checked the book out in her library. So I asked Sugar if he could go to Pretoria College and see who else might have checked it out since it was shared between the two libraries.”

“You think John Latham pulled out the plates and gave them to Angeline to copy.”

“Exactly. I knew you were short of manpower and I figured Sugar wouldn’t mind. I should have filled you in but it slipped my mind. Sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s not cool to look like a doofus. Find out what he found out and call me back.”

“Right away.”

“In the meantime I went over to Littleton and spoke to a few of Lance Terry’s friends, asked them what spooked the kid to leave midsemester.”

“And?”

“Hang-up calls: several of them. And then Terry began to think he was being followed. His buddies tell me he became a little paranoid. In view of everything that has happened, I’d label the paranoia as being perceptive.”

“I’ll talk to Terry again. Maybe he noticed a silver van. Any luck with that?”

“We’ve checked about fifty of them in the area. All registered and accounted for. On a positive note, Moreau does have a copy of the key found in Latham’s empty bin.”

“Yes!” Decker pumped his arm, eliciting a few stares from startled passersby. “Our first tangible link between Latham and Moreau.”

“We’re getting warmer. And that means you need to watch your back. I’d like you here in Greenbury where bad things stick out. When are you coming home?”

“I’ve still got business down here.” He gave Radar an update on his conversation with Merritt. “After lunch, we’re on a hunt to find Victor Gerrard.”

“Are you looking in New York or in Philly?”

“We’re looking in New York. I’ve got feelers out in Philadelphia. And it looks like I should talk to Terry again. So I’m saying we’ll probably be back by tomorrow.”

“Tonight would be better. I’ll keep Ben and Kevin on the storage bin hunt. You call up Allan Sugar and find out if Latham checked out the book. Then you let me know.”