“Why are you pushing so hard for this to be a bigger crime than it was?” Feinstein squeezed his hands together in front of a rumpled vest.
Joe wanted to ask why Feinstein was so intent on lying to him. But the terror in his eyes stopped him. Feinstein knew something but didn’t want to say what. If Joe pressed much more, he might bolt.
Had someone threatened him? It seemed the only likely reason for his uncharacteristic behavior.
With a sinking gut, Joe recalled the Black Hand Society, an Italian Mafia that had held shopkeepers like Feinstein in a choke hold. They demanded kickbacks from innocent civilians and promised violence for those who didn’t cooperate. The extortion ring had started off targeting small businesses in Little Italy and expanded until no one was outside their reach. The NYPD had rooted out the Black Hand Society by 1920. Had a new group stepped in to fill the power void left behind?
So far, there was no proof of that. But it was possible. If a group like that had gotten to Feinstein, no wonder he didn’t want to be questioned. Maybe his shop was being watched even now to see if Feinstein would squeal.
“If you think of anything later that you’d like to share, please call the station,” Joe said. “I’ll see myself out.”
He ambled through the store, alert for clues. Something white poked out from beneath a claw-foot tea table. Bending, he picked up a small C-shaped object. It was a teacup handle. He looked again at the tea table beside him. It held nothing but a thin layer of dust and silhouettes where no dust had fallen at all. Scallop-edged circles matched the saucers he’d just seen. Other shapes could well fit a teapot, creamer, and sugar bowl.
The cups he’d seen were all intact. But no thief would steal a cup without a handle if he were looking for monetary gain.
Pocketing the broken piece he’d found, Joe decided not to waste any more time asking Feinstein for an explanation. Instead, he bade him good day and left.
And went straight to the public trash can on the street corner. Inside, he found one answer and a whole new pot full of questions. For there, scattered over a greasy newspaper, were shards of bonechina. Joe reached in and picked up a fragment that matched the pattern from the Eliza Hamilton set. There were enough pieces here to put together a teapot, a sugar bowl, and three cups and saucers.
These antiques hadn’t been stolen. They’d been destroyed. Whoever had done this wasn’t the same person who had swept the remains into a dustpan and deposited them in the trash can outside. Faced with one more lie from Feinstein, Joe had a feeling he’d stumbled onto a bigger problem in Manhattan than a forger.
CHAPTER
10
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1925
The smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee filled the Beresford dining room. Lauren poured maple syrup onto her Belgian waffle and passed the small pitcher to Elsa.
“What time is your father coming?” Ivy asked her.
“He’s not.” Lauren’s cheeks burned. “He called yesterday afternoon to cancel.” Actually, he’d had a secretary from the Napoleon Society call on his behalf, but Lauren was too embarrassed to admit he hadn’t even told her himself.
Elsa wiped the outside of the syrup pitcher before cutting her own waffle in squares according to its natural grid. “Uncle Lawrence doesn’t want to spend Thanksgiving with you? Er, sorry, that came out wrong. I’m disappointed he wouldn’t since he lives so close now.” Elsa’s parents, Lauren’s aunt Beryl and uncle Julian, lived right across the street from the Met on Fifth Avenue, but they were spending the fall with Uncle Julian’s sister in Monte Carlo.
“I thought things had improved between you and your dad,” Ivy added.
A waiter dropped by to refill their coffee mugs. Once he’d gone, Lauren explained that her father was out of town, something to do with working for the Napoleon Society. “Don’t ask me why it’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until after the holiday. But it’s fine, really. Ihaven’t celebrated Thanksgiving with him in more than twenty-five years.”
Ivy’s eyebrows arched, disappearing behind her thick black bangs. “But he said he would come, then changed his mind less than twenty-four hours before the holiday? That stings. But maybe he really does have some emergency.”
Lauren forced a smile for her roommates. “When it comes to my father, I’ve grown used to disappointments,” she said. She ought to have expected it. She ought not to have placed so much significance on the fact that they’d made plans together. In any case, she’d been quick to adapt and make new ones. Tomorrow, she and Elsa would hunt for those letters Lawrence had once tried to burn.
“And there’s no one else besides us you’d rather spend time with today?” Elsa asked. “Perhaps a certain someone who insisted on bringing you home from the Hotel Astor even though you are thirty-two years old and perfectly capable of riding the subway alone?”
“Oh!” Ivy brightened. “You mean the certain someone who also commandeered two steak dinners from the kitchen and stayed until he was sure you were feeling better? Good gravy, Lauren, teach me your ways. Tell me where I can find a man like that.”
“Didn’t you know?” Elsa jumped in. “They met at the Met when she was twelve years old.”
Lauren laughed at Ivy’s stunned expression. “It’s true,” she confirmed. “I grew up in Chicago, but my mother and I stayed with Elsa’s family every Christmas. That year I went to the Met by myself. My mother was sick, my aunt and uncle were busy, and Elsa, only five at the time, had no patience for museums if they didn’t have taxidermy animals. That’s where I first met Joe. He asked if I was lost, since he didn’t see an adult with me, and immediately appointed himself my guardian. Only much later did I learn he’d been dropped off at the wrong Met, so if either of us was lost, it was him.”
“You’re kidding,” Ivy said.
“Nope. At fourteen years old, he got in a cab and asked for theMet. He thought he was going to a matinee at the Metropolitan Opera. But he didn’t tell me that for years.”
“Then what did he tell you?”
Lauren chuckled. “He told me not to talk to strangers. To which I replied thathewas a stranger. He took care of that in a hurry by simply introducing himself.”
