“Yes, Gwyneth went with me, but she couldn’t hear him unless I let him use my vocal cords. He said he was there during the robbery. Unfortunately, he’s confusing the hell out of me. What little he tells me doesn’t make any sense.”
“What has he told you?”
“He says the cops did it.”
“That’s because the thieves dressed as cops to get in, then overpowered the guards and tied them up.”
Morgaine threw her hands in the air. “For Goddess’s sake! Why couldn’t the police tell me at least that much? I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out if he was just messing with us.”
“What do you know about this ghost?”
“He’s been there since the thirties. His name is Reginald. He feels very protective of the place. He won’t tell me why. He said he knew the woman who built it.”
“Isabella Stewart Gardener.”
Morgaine shrugged. “I guess so.”
“I know a little bit about her. I can grab a reference book and find more for you, if you like.”
“You’d better not. If I sound like an encyclopedia, they’ll think I looked her up. But in a CliffsNotes version, tell me what you know.”
Konrad sat up straighter. “I love this woman’s story. She wasn’t accepted by the Boston blue bloods because she didn’t live the life of a restrained, Victorian matron. She loved to travel, had a sense of humor, and was vivacious. In other words, she lived large.”
“I like her already.”
“Yeah, I think you two would have gotten along just fine. Naturally she became the subject of scandals. As far as we know, they were unsubstantiated rumors. She was once quoted as saying, ‘Don’t spoil a good story by telling the truth.’”
Morgaine laughed. “I’ll have to remember that one next time someone accuses Gwyneth and me of being lesbian devil worshippers.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Yeah, I am. Well, about the devil worship, that is. Dottie and Ralph thought we were lesbians because of the noises we made being phone-sex actresses.”
Konrad laughed. “Yeah, I heard about that. You’ve been quiet lately, though.”
“Yeah, she threatened to throw us out if we kept up all the racket, even though it paid the rent.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Now if I can crack this case, there’s a nice reward in it for me.”
“I’ll bet. How much?”
“The FBI is offering five million dollars for the recovery of all the stolen goods. A portion less, if only part of it is recovered.”
Konrad whistled.
“Yeah, so it’s a good thing I got this job, and I really want to do it well. I…I have a hard time leaving the apartment building due to my agoraphobia, but a reward like that, and someone going with me…well, it’s worth anything I have to do. Anyway, tell me more about this interesting Isabella.”
“She loved the Red Sox as well as the symphony and made loads of friends in drastically different circles. She became a major patron of the arts and built the combination home and museum in the Fenway area to house her growing collection. She wanted to share it with the average American.”
“I saw a portrait of her at the museum.”
“Oh, yeah. She displayed the portraits of friends like John Singer Sargent and James McNeill Whistler, but also amassed a collection of famous European painters. It’s considered priceless today. She held concerts too. I went to hear a former student of mine play piano there.”
“What a gorgeous setting for a concert. I don’t suppose you’re talking about rock and roll, though.”
Konrad laughed. “No, it’s mostly classical stuff. Maybe some jazz. I can’t picture the calm, serene atmosphere of that atrium being shattered by Aerosmith.”
