~ ~ ~
XX
The Fourth Wednesday
[C]ritique is the movement by which the subject is given the right to discover the truth.
Michel Foucault
Charlie woke to the kind of quite that came only when traffic was hushed by a lot of snow. One peek out the window confirmed his fear; several inches of snow covered the tiny backyard. He got up, wrapped himself in his terrycloth robe, and looked out a front window. The plow obviously hadn't been by, but then it never got to Slater Street till nearly noon. Okay, he wasn't driving anywhere. Maybe he shouldn't bother going out. Lunch at the club could be missed, since probably few people would show up. There was no need to go to the department. Instead of showering Charlie went downstairs to make coffee and some breakfast. Kate wouldn't be up for a while, so he had his choice about what to have and decided on huevos rancheros. He was finishing his coffee when the phone rang. DeVries.
"'Morning. Odd; I was just thinking of calling you. Is there something new?"
"Yes; it's a slow morning because of the snow, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to let you know our techies didn't find any hidden compartments in Ms. Milford's house, but they did find a spot behind the furnace where something was put and then removed recently. There were fresh and distinct patterns in the dust. They don't think it was a box because of the irregularity of the marks. Likely was a largish bag. Their best guess is that it was something the right size to hold a good number of books and heavy enough to leave distinct marks. We're going to speak to Ms. Milford again. Why were you thinking of calling me?"
Charlie explained his idea about Milford having the books and then faking the house-search to look innocent and unconnected.
"Well, that's more credible now that we've found traces of something being stashed behind the furnace. Do you see Ms. Milford as a double murderer?"
"No; that's the trouble. But she may have been working with someone, though I'm leaning more toward Hamilton. By the way, another point: have you checked the hotels for likely visitors to Kingsford at the relevant time?"
"Oh, yes; we checked single registrations for the appropriate time period and are checking out the names, but I'm not optimistic. It'd be different if we'd found somebody who signed in as a rare-book buyer or as working for Christie's or Sotheby's or something like that, but no such luck. We just have a list of names of individuals who we're contacting to see what they were doing in town. Of course, they don't have to tell us, but so far the ones we've contacted have cooperated."
Charlie hung up as Kate walked into the kitchen. "Huevos rancheros?"
"Okay, okay; I'll do the pan. Later."
Charlie went up to shower after checking the street again. Still no sign of a plow. After showering he decided that another cup of coffee would go well. He booted up his laptop to check the New York Times and Globe and Mail websites, got his coffee, and was just about to start on the news when Kate came into the room.
"Aren't you going to the department?"
"With all that snow? Why?"
"We need stuff. I assumed you'd be going and would get us something."
"You don't want me underfoot."
Charlie finished his coffee and wrapped himself up in his heaviest coat, pulling up the hood and putting on warm gloves. Driving was difficult but when he arrived at the department he saw that as usual, Meredith's snow-removal people were well ahead of the city's. All of the walkways and parking lots were clear, though the lots did have large piles of snow at their corners. There weren't many cars parked; people had thought better of leaving home today. Charlie wondered if there was anyone in the department other than Jodie and Phoebe. When the elevator doors opened on his floor, Marcela got in before he could step out.
"Ride down with me; I've got some juicy stuff!"
"What've you got? Did Jack Shwayder try to hit on you."
"Ugh. You know what I found out? You know Barrett's ex-girlfriend, Jane?"
"Janet; Janet Milford."
"Whatever, anyway, she's pregnant! I saw her when I was doing rounds. Actually, I didn't recognize her, but she remembered me from some department affair and said hello. I asked her if she was okay and why was she there, and she said she was waiting to see Reg Leonard. That's all she said, but Reg was doing his pre-natal clinic, so if she was waiting to see him, she's pregnant. No doubt. Do you think it's Barrett's? Maybe that's really why they broke up and she got a house. Don't say anything. Everybody'd know where you got it. I gotta go. Bye."
Charlie rode back up, not quite knowing what to make of Marcela's news. Maybe Barrett was the father and didn't want the child, or didn't know about it, or, more interestingly, wasn't the father. Milford's purchase of a house in Coulton made more sense if she wanted a place of her own to raise the kid. How did Milford's pregnancy fit the scheme of things? Did it renew her suspect status? It seemed she might have had more reason to shoot Barrett than being dumped for a man. Charlie tried to recall how Milford had looked when he and Kate saw her. Was that the point of the too-big sweats she'd been wearing? Kate hadn't said anything, so hadn't noticed; didn't women always know that sort of thing?
Without quite deciding to Charlie forgot about lunch at the club and drove to Coulton, wondering what he was doing but in the grip of something he couldn't describe. He thought of calling Kate but almost immediately forgot about doing that, too. He considered stopping for something to eat, but didn't bother.
Charlie pulled up in front of Milford's house. It struck him that it looked better than when he'd last seen it. It wasn't new paint or anything obvious. He decided it was just tidier; she'd clearly gotten the place into shape without doing anything major to the exterior. He parked and rang the bell. She was probably at work but he wasn't thinking about that. In any case, after a minute Milford opened the door. She looked the same as when he'd last seen her, except the color of her sweat-suit was different. This one, like the other, was baggy and shapeless and too large.
Milford looked at Charlie with a mix of surprise and resignation. The resignation was confirmed when she stepped aside so he could enter but said nothing. He walked in and while she closed the door he looked into the living room. The damage from the real or supposed search had been repaired in that room.
"Let's go in the kitchen. I just finished lunch, but there's pie and I was just going to have a piece."
"Sure. Pie would be good. I haven't had anything to eat. I came down here on impulse. I guess I should apologize."
"Oh, don't bother. I pretty much expected you'd be back."
On a card-table in the half-finished kitchen Milford laid out two mugs of coffee and two large pieces of strawberry-rhubarb pie. She sat down and asked Charlie to sit.
"There's a tiny bakery here that has the most fantastic stuff. I really have to watch it or I'll be two-hundred pounds in a few months."
Charlie took a bite of the pie.
"It really is good."
They both sipped coffee and nothing was said for a minute.
"You're digging into Barrett's death, aren't you."
"Yes. This is a real case of armchair detecting, but I have learned a few things."
"Why are you bothering? I understood you and Barrett didn't like one another."
Charlie thought a moment and then surprised himself by what he said.
"I didn't like him, but I've just realized - or at least articulated - the reason. He was a member of my department. I need to know that he was killed for reasons that had nothing to do with that. I've got a couple of theories, but what puzzles me right now, is you. I have two questions, and I think I'll save us both time by just asking them. The first is, did you know about the books?"
"The books. Yes I did, and if you've gotten that far, you're doing pretty well. Barrett and Chet were very secretive about them. Chet even hid them here for a few days. Regardless of what I said or how I acted, I wasn't surprised my house was searched. It was too late, though, Chet took the books a couple of days before Barrett
was killed. He said Barrett was going to show them to someone."
So much for the hot lead DeVries' techies had found.
"What's the other question?"
"This is much more personal, and it's none of my business except if connected to Barrett's murder. Someone I spoke to about the case saw you in Dr. Leonard's waiting room. I assume you're pregnant. Was Barrett the father?"
Milford stared at Charlie, then laughed, then stared at Charlie for another seemingly interminable time. Finally, she spoke.
"It really isn't any of your business, but yes, I'm pregnant. It's why I'm home today; I've taken a leave of absence. I'm just working on the house at my own pace. I'm sorry I laughed, but the reason is that Barrett hadn't touched me for almost a year before he took up with Rich and I moved out. I'd already decided to leave before that, but it was taking time to sort things out. And don't dare think the father was Chet. I've been seeing a guy in the engineering faculty for seven or eight months. I went out with him when it became obvious I couldn't fix whatever was wrong between Barrett and me. I'm sure you find it puzzling, but I thought I saw another side to him. I was wrong. Have I answered your questions?"
"You have, but I'd like you to speculate a bit. Even if Barrett and McKay were secretive about the books, did you ever get any idea of who was trying to buy them or who Barrett was going to show them to? Oh, and did McKay have someone who'd helped him get the books?"
"I can give you a flat no to the last part. McKay was completely on his own. Over drinks he once went on about how hard it had been for him to even approach Barrett for help finding a buyer - at least one that would pay close to what the books were worth. I don't know who Barrett found, but he did find somebody. When he was killed I assumed the buyer did it. When Chet got shot I was sure."
"Do you have you any idea of how much Barrett and McKay expected to get?"
"I heard them talking money just once. Chet wanted to take whatever they could get and be done with it; Barrett was holding out for more. The figure he threw at Chet was one-and-a-half million dollars."
"That's what the books would fetch at auction, not what someone would pay for them all. Or maybe I underestimated the value of the books on Barrett's list."
"He had a list? How many books were on the list?"
"Eight."
"No, that's not right. There were more; probably a dozen. I got a peek in the bag Chet left here. The only other thing I know is that Chet got the books overseas, from somewhere he'd been fighting. I heard him complain to Barrett a couple of times of how he'd had to haul that bag back. It was a military duffle-bag in which he carried his personal stuff. He apparently ditched most of it to carry the books."
"Maybe Barrett's list was more a come-on for the buyer."
"More pie?"
"No, thanks; but if you're going to have more coffee I wouldn't mind some."
Milford poured them both more coffee and sat down again.
"I really hope you can help the cops. It's not just that someone should pay for killing two people; I'm afraid the killer might think I have the books or know where they are. Mike, the guy I mentioned, is moving in this weekend. He was going to move in when his lease is up, but he's worried about me."
"Yes; you definitely shouldn't be out here alone."
"The sheriff said he'd keep an eye on the house, but you can't count on him or a deputy being there when you need help. I'm also having a security system put in, or at least Mike is, but they can't do it till the end of next week."
"Okay, I'm not going to take more of your time. I want to thank you for being candid. I'm going to pass on what you said to Bolster and DeVries."
On the drive back to Kingsford Charlie felt good about having his impulse pay off and being able to write Milford off as a suspect. As was becoming his practice, when he got to his office he called DeVries. He was told she'd call him back. He then answered his email and read a couple of articles he'd been meaning to read. DeVries called at four. Charlie told her about Milford's admitting she'd held the books for McKay for a few days, her pregnancy, and her new partner moving in.
"That's very useful, Charlie, and it does seem to take Ms. Milford off our list of suspects if she admitted to holding the books. The question now is the buyer. We're still trying to connect one of the names from the hotels to Dr. Wilson. I've also got someone running the names through employee lists of several prominent auction-houses, but it will still be several days before we get through all the names. If you learn anything else, let me know."
When Charlie got home that evening, he told Kate about his impulsive trip to see Milford and what he'd learned. He also apologized for not going shopping.
"Pregnant? I missed that altogether."
"We had other things on our minds, though we might have wondered more about the too-large sweats. The important thing is that it does look as if the killer is the buyer, and DeVries' efforts with the list of individuals visiting Kingsford may pay off. What puzzles me is why Barrett's list fell short of the actual number."
"Could there have been two copies of some of them? That would explain the number of titles not matching the number of books."
"That's a really good idea; didn't occur to me. And that would interest a serious collector. There might be one copy that's annotated and another that's not, for example, or maybe different editions but of equal or near-equal value."
"Okay Charlie, that's it; I've had my fill of this for the day. I want some dinner."
After sharing salmon cakes Kate somehow produced and a bottle of Oregon pinot noir that went surprisingly well with cakes, Charlie and Kate retired to their respective chairs with their respective books. The phone rang just as Charlie was most engrossed in the mystery he was reading. Startled, he leapt up and went to the phone before realizing it was his cell that was ringing.
"Dr. Douglas? Dan Bolster. Just wanted to add my thanks to Pam's for the information you've provided and to return the favor. I'm on my way to meet Pam right now - illegally using my cell while driving, by the way. It's a bit late but we're going to talk to a Mr. Smythe who is staying at the Kingsford Arms. One of our people linked his name to an art and rare-book auction house less than an hour ago. Any chance the name rings a bell?"
"I'm afraid not, but its very likely British, right?"
"Good guess; the auction house is located in London. It's not as well known as Sotheby's or Christie's, but it seems to be more focused on books than they and deals in serious money. Pam will likely give you a call tomorrow."
Charlie passed on the information to Kate and they went back to their reading. Charlie, though, couldn't concentrate and booted up his laptop. He hadn't gotten the name of the auction house from Bolster, but he searched for Smythe-plus-auction-plus-books and found a very conservative text-only web-site for an auction house named Tanner, MacLean, and Smythe. The site merely gave the names of the partners, an address, a phone-number, a brief description of goods available, and the date of the next auction. At least Charlie now knew Smythe's first name was Gregory. He then searched Smythe's name and found a few links to articles on particularly interesting rare books the house had handled but learned little more.
"You know, for a partner in that auction house to haul himself to Kingsford, Barrett and McKay definitely had something worthwhile. It looks like their expecting a million-and-a-half for themselves might not have been so crazy; not if the books would fetch significantly more at auction. That makes your idea more credible. Two similar editions of, say, The Art of War, one of which is annotated, would together be worth a lot more than either on it's own. McKay went to university and apparently read a lot; he'd recognize valuable books. He almost certainly got those books from a museum or some other institution his gang of mercenaries looted. That might be something DeVries can track down."
With that Kate went upstairs and Charlie soon followed. As he was going to sleep he hoped DeVries would report on the interview with Smythe.