“The jobs I took, or the ones I aimed for on my own? Bigger, riskier. They were my family, and I trusted them. But.”
“It only takes one slip.”
“Yes, only one. So I made sure not to slip.”
“How did you handle the money? The fee?”
“As with all. Wired into an account I’d set up, and from there into another, and into a company I used as a front until I could dissolve that. Investing it, you see, as we lived as we always did. I had the hotel, the first building I bought, so you—well, it’s just a matter of washing the funds clean, then building them. Invest in another property, keep your sidelines, we’ll say, well to the side.”
“Basically, buried accounts, two sets of books.”
“Well now, more than two for certain before you. I’ve closed that door, and you’ll have to trust me. There’s no key to be found.”
“I just don’t want to find some… awkward surprise while I’m digging.”
“I’m doing some digging of my own. I made some contacts this morning.”
“Who? Where?”
“I’m going to skip over the who, as we’d be back to awkward there for those I spoke with who may still be in the game. And the where’s here and there. But none I spoke with knew—or admitted to knowing—about this job. If it was brokered, none I’ve reached as yet know the who there.”
“What about the original broker? Did anyone take over his business?”
“His grandson, who’s now retired and living in Italy.”
“Where?”
“I’ll find out if you like. The broker’s legitimate businesses—which of course he financed through his brokerage—passed down to his wifeand children. He had but one wife through his life, and six children. He left plenty to share—properties, a pub, a restaurant, and so on. But to the grandson of his youngest son, he left what he used to build his comfortable fortune.”
“Since he’s dead, why don’t you say his name?”
“Lifelong habit. In any case, how would it help you now? And how would you explain knowing any of it?”
He gave her hand a pat, topped off her coffee, then his.
“I know the man I worked with kept both his clients’ and his, I supposeagents’would do, names out of his records. He had a kind of code. Such as, for this? It was… let me think.”
Frowning, he sipped coffee.
“I believe it was something like Yank Scut—scutmeaning he didn’t much care for Barrister—for the Five Green Pieces—those being the jewels—through the Jammy Jackeen. That would be me.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“The broker came to Dublin from the west counties, andjackeen’s a Dubliner—in an insulting way.Jammy? It’s lucky. And he had—you can’t hold me to the exact of it except my own take, which I remember very well. He had, I’m thinking he had ninety-point-ten. That would be—”
“I get it. Ninety’s his take, ten’s yours.”
“There you have it.”
“And how do you know he kept his records that way?”
He gave her one of his easy shrugs. “Because after I turned over the jewels, I made it a point to slip into where he kept his office one night and see for myself. I made sure nothing but his word against mine could tie me to them.”
As she ate, she twisted it one way, wrapped it around another, turned it upside down, then back again. She just couldn’t manipulate it all to pull his eighteen-year-old self into it.
“What about the other piece? The statue.”
“Ah, the magnificent Venus.” He finished his eggs. “The Bargello in Florence.”
