“Every report I’ve dug up attributes it to a well-organized group. An e-man, security expert, someone on the inside, though they never pinned anyone there, the jewel thief, and so on.”
“Is that right?”
“Since it’s out there, I pushed on some sources, leaving the emeralds out of it. Clearly, from the list I have from the vault, that was the most valuable item. Well, items.”
“You have a content list from the vault at Barrister House?”
Those foxy eyes smiled at Eve as Nadine sipped her coffee. “I’m a very clever woman. One of my sources was part of several of the investigations into the thefts. He strongly believes Henry Barrister workedthrough a broker. I’m assuming you know about how that works, and have drawn that conclusion as you’re also a very clever woman.”
“You’re not giving me anything but a brownie so far.”
“He also strongly believes that this theft—” Nadine held up a hand. “He didn’t mention the emeralds, either, though he likely knows, as he’s still active. Anyway, he strongly believes one of the original thieves targeted Barrister House. Assessing who bought them, where they were kept, and after the original client died, hey, why not take them back, resell them?”
“And how did this thief access the information? As a very clever woman, you’d have learned how that whole broker deal works.”
“Henry Barrister was slipping more than a little. The original theft was in, what, 2042? A lot could’ve happened to the broker in that amount of time. Maybe he died, left files, retired, passed his clients to a replacement.”
She waved that off. “In any case, this has all pumped up the investigative work on the original theft.”
“Suspects?”
“He was cagey, but they’re looking hard at a couple of people they believe were part of a team responsible for at least three of the thefts.”
Her eyes flicked back to the board. “And one of the people they’re looking hard at is a woman. In addition, Inspector Abernathy of Interpol is coordinating with that new investigative task force.”
“Is that right? He failed to mention it.”
“I sensed that. Meanwhile, excepting the Tate, for obvious reasons, the museums, private owners, or heirs of same are pretty damn happy about getting their items back. Once they do, that closes it down for them. They’re not particularly interested in spending the time, effort, making the investment to pin down the person or persons responsible for the original thefts.”
This time Nadine gestured toward the board. “Tell me about Fancy Blonde. It’s under wraps until you give me the go.”
“Someone who played Henry Barrister for the last fifteen years or so. I don’t have a name or a face, yet. She visited him for several days last December.”
“And he died in…” A quick flip through a reporter’s mental files. “February. You think she knew or found out about the vault.”
“I think I want a name, a face, then a conversation. Look, Nadine, I’ve got to prep for this media thing.”
“You really don’t. You’re good at it. Hating it the way you do makes you really good at it.”
“So if I liked it, I’d be crap at it?”
“Yeah, or a lot less good at it.”
“That makes no sense.”
Nadine set down her empty cup. “Toss this into the prep you really don’t need. Nathan Barrister’s murder is your priority. It has to be, and it should be. But the story, Dallas? The big shiny object is the vault, what was in it. What, if anything, was taken from it. You won’t get a focus on your victim, except questions about him as a suspect.”
“Another reason to hate doing this.”
“I get that because I get you.” She touched a hand briefly to Eve’s shoulder. “My team, and they’re excellent, researched Nathan Barrister thoroughly. He was a good man, a family man with a solid talent for the business his father started. I’ll give that as much weight as I can in my reports.”
She would, Eve thought as Nadine left. She would do exactly that.
She sat, ate a little of the brownie while she sat, and stewed. Nadine had given her a hell of a lot more than Abernathy. A task force, pushing on the original thefts. And they’d damn well push hardest at the emeralds.
She needed to find and return them. It would weaken that push whenshe did. Meanwhile she had to hope, had to trust, had to believe that Roarke had covered his tracks.
She ate a little more brownie, and took comfort this fresh push aimed for a group, not an individual.
