Curious Minds (5 page)

Irene's mouth dropped open, and she blinked three times.

“He didn't mean ‘kill your husband,' ” Riley said.

“I did,” Emerson said. “I very distinctly heard myself ask her if she killed her husband.”

“I did
not
kill my husband,” Irene said.

“Good to know,” Riley said. She gave Emerson a stern look. “Anything else?”

“I understand you filed papers to gain power of attorney for your joint property,” Emerson said to Irene.

“My lawyer thought it was prudent.”

Emerson rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. “But you didn't file a missing persons report with the police.”

“I suppose I should do that,” Irene said. “Originally I didn't see any reason. We didn't have the perfect marriage, and I thought he was just walking out on me.”

“And now?” Emerson asked.

“That's what I still think.”

Emerson looked into the hole again. “What will you do with Saint Nicholas?”

“Throw him away. Just like all the others.”

“Were they all Saint Nicholas statues?”

“I'm not really up on my saints, but they all looked similar.”

“I've always been fond of Saint Nicholas,” Emerson said. “Do you mind if I take him?”

“Not at all,” Irene said. “Help yourself.”

Emerson retrieved the plaster statue, dusted it off, and tucked it under his arm. “Now I would like to see Günter's study,” he said to Irene.

For a split second Irene looked like she wanted to get in her car and not stop driving until she reached California and was far away from Emerson.

“I suppose that would be all right,” she said, “but I'm not sure if you'll find anything helpful. Günter didn't spend much time there.”

Irene led the way into the house, taking them through a spacious kitchen. The counters were granite, the appliances were stainless and looked professional, the floor was wide-plank hand-hewn oak. The cupboards were faux antique, the breakfast nook was charming, and an empty vodka bottle and the remains of a Lean Cuisine frozen dinner had been stashed in the large sink.

“This is a great kitchen,” Riley said.

“Thank you,” Irene said. “I don't do much cooking in it, but it's pleasant in the morning when I eat my yogurt.” She set her gloves and hat on a sideboard and led Riley and Emerson down a short hall and up a flight of stairs. “The previous owner chose to create a home office over the garage. It's very nicely done, but Günter rarely used it. From time to time I believe he would put documents in the safe.”

“Have you checked the safe since he disappeared?” Emerson asked her.

“No. I'm sure there's nothing in it of interest to me. I keep my jewelry in the bedroom. Truth is, I don't even know the combination. I believe our lawyer has the ability to open it should something happen to Günter.”

“It sounds as if you expect Günter to return,” Emerson said. “Have you heard from him?”

“No, I haven't heard from him. One morning he left for work with his to-go cup of coffee and his briefcase, and he simply never returned.”

“You don't seem especially worried,” Emerson said.

“I drink a lot,” Irene said. “And I smoke dope. It keeps me more or less happy.”

I
rene opened the door at the top of the stairs, and everyone stepped into Günter's home office. It was a room much like Günter's office at Blane-Grunwald, all rich mahogany and plush upholstery. A few flies buzzed around in the semidarkness. A shaft of sunlight fell on the ornate partners desk through the gap in the heavy draperies. The walls were paneled and lined with bookshelves. The books were for the most part academic.

Irene opened the drapes. “I really should air this room. I can't imagine how these flies got in here.”

A door chimed downstairs, and Irene looked at her watch. “That's my housekeeper. I need to talk to her. And I'm meeting a friend for coffee in a few minutes. Will you be much longer?”

“Yes,” Emerson said. “Considerably longer.”

Riley thought Irene looked like she wanted to stick a fork in Emerson's heart. And she didn't blame her.

“Would you mind terribly letting yourself out?” Irene said, forcing a smile. “I really need to run.”

“No worries,” Emerson said, rifling through Günter's file drawer, not looking at Irene. “We're fine on our own.”

Riley settled into an oversized overstuffed chair and watched Emerson search through the room. After fifteen minutes she was tired of watching. She checked her cellphone for emails and surfed some news sites. At the thirty-minute mark she began sighing. Loudly.
SIGH!

“I hear you,” Emerson said. “I would expect better communication skills from you than
sighing.
”

“I didn't want to disturb you.”

“Rubbish.”

“That's very British.”

“I went to secondary school in England. Several of them, actually.”

“Kept getting kicked out?”

“I was an academic challenge.”

“Are you finding anything useful?” Riley asked.

Emerson opened the top drawer on the desk and removed a scrap of paper. “This room is surprisingly sterile. Very much like Günter's office. No personal effects scattered about. And to answer your question…perhaps. There's this piece of paper with a quotation from Seneca, the Roman philosopher.
Sometimes, even to live is an act of courage.
”

“What does it mean?”

“It's either a suicide note, or the exact opposite.”

“What's the exact opposite of a suicide note?” Riley asked.

“Getting up every day and living. And even better than the quote is the name scrawled on the back. ‘Dr. Bauerfeind.' ”

“Do you know him?”

“We've met.”

“Anything else that's captured your interest?”

“The beetle hanging on the wall. It's a death's head beetle.”

Riley crossed the room and examined the beetle. It was perfectly preserved and mounted in a glass frame. The shell was shiny, with two black spots on it. The wings were glossy and golden. Under it was pinned a piece of paper with an inscription, written in a fine scientific hand.
SCARABAEUS CAPUT HOMINIS
.

While Riley looked at the beetle, Emerson removed a Rembrandt etching from the wall and exposed Günter's safe.

“So predictable,” he said. “It really takes some of the fun out of it.”

He stared at the digital keypad for a minute or two, punched in a combination, and the safe swung open.

“How did you know the combination?” Riley asked.

“It was obvious. I only doubted it because it was so simple.” Emerson pointed to the framed insect on the wall. “What can you tell me about that?”

“It looks fake.”

“It is. Someone must have given it to Günter as a joke. It's painted to look like a golden skull. And the inscription on the label, ‘Scarabaeus Caput Hominis'—Man's Head Beetle. Clearly, it's an homage to the Edgar Allan Poe story in which a man finds a fabulous treasure with the help of a fantastic insect, ‘The Gold-Bug.' ”

“ ‘Goldbug,' ” Riley said. “That's also a term used in investing. It means an expert who recommends buying gold as an investment.”

“Exactly. A person who believes that gold is a stable source of wealth, like it was during the days of the gold standard. So it wasn't hard to guess that ‘goldbug' would be Günter's combination. That and the fact that the numbers are written under Bauerfeind's name on the scrap of paper. Of course the numbers are rearranged, but the code is a simple one.”

He reached into the safe and pulled out the single object inside. A gold bar. A fly fluttered off the bar and Emerson handed the bar to Riley. She was amazed by the heft of the thing.

“I'm pretty sure this is a Good Delivery bar,” she said. “It's the first time I've seen one in person.”

“Like you, my knowledge is academic. I know that Good Delivery bars are noted for high purity and large size, weighing in the vicinity of thirty pounds each. Most gold collectors collect coins or small bars of one ounce. Good Delivery bars are much harder to analyze or to trade. They are used in major international markets like Tokyo and London and New York and the gold reserves of major governments. And the International Monetary Fund. This one was made in Munich. It has the word ‘München' carved in it, along with a half moon and crown, followed by the minting date and serial number.”

“If this actually is a Good Delivery bar it meets the specifications issued by the London Bullion Market Association, and it would contain about four hundred troy ounces of gold,” Riley said.

“A fortune for most people.”

“But not for Günter,” Riley said. “It's worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, but Günter has more money than he could possibly spend in one lifetime.”

“He has ninety million. He could spend that,” Emerson said.

“How?”

“If he lived to ninety-five, he could do it.”

“I don't see how.”

“It could be done.”

“I don't think so.”

“I could do it.”

Riley didn't think she could do it. She came from a culture that clipped coupons and shopped at yard sales.

“What would you buy?” she asked Emerson. “A shark with a laser beam gizmo attached to his head? It would have to be something incredible.”

Emerson handed the gold bar to Riley. “Put this in your bag.”

“What?” Riley asked.

“Put it in your bag. We're going to take it with us.”

“Are we going to ask first? We're going to ask.”

“Why should we ask?”

“Because it's a gold bar worth in the vicinity of half a million dollars. That's more than grand larceny. That's great-grand larceny.”

“We'll bring it back. We're just going to borrow it. I don't think Irene even knows it's there.”

“You don't think?”

R
iley dumped her bag onto the Mustang's backseat and slid behind the wheel.

Emerson got in, and Riley put the car in gear and sped out to the parkway before Irene Grunwald could return from her coffee date, peek into her safe, and call the cops. Or the Secret Service. Or whoever they sent after you for stealing gold bars.

“I can't believe I'm doing this,” she said.

“Believe,” Emerson said.

“Why do you want it?”

“It feels off. The safe had been cleaned out. There were no papers, no stacks of extra cash. None of the things you would expect to find in a home office safe. Why was this gold bar left behind?”

“Maybe it was left in the safe to be…safe.”

“Maybe. But think back. What was in the safe when I opened it?”

“Just that gold,” Riley said.

“Your eyes see, but they do not observe. Cast your mind back to when I opened the safe. What did you see?”

“The gold,” Riley said.

“And?”

“A fly.”

“Exactly. What kind of fly?”

“A fly with big wings. Almost like a dragonfly, but smaller.”

“It was a mayfly. Also called a shad fly or lake fly. An aquatic insect. It only lives for about twenty-four hours after it sprouts its wings.”

“And Mrs. Grunwald said no one had been in that room or the safe for days.”

“But someone was in that room, and in that safe, sometime in the last twenty-four hours. Someone, most probably, who came from the waterfront and tracked the mayfly larvae in with them. Someone who opened that safe but didn't take the gold. Why not?”

Riley finished his thought. “They took something else?”

“Or they planted this gold inside.”

“But you don't know which.”

“No, but I intend to find out. That's why we're going to Blane-Grunwald to see Maxine Trowbridge.”

“Do you think she planted the gold?” Riley asked.

“I think she has a dislike and fear of Werner and fond feelings for Günter. As his trusted assistant she would know many things, possibly including the combination to his home safe and the code for his security system. When you were working as Günter's intern, what was your impression of Maxine Trowbridge?”

“I thought she was very efficient. The ultimate professional. Always appropriately dressed. Always polite. Günter trusted and respected her, but I never saw anything to indicate that the relationship went beyond the office. She worked for Werner before Günter. That was the one oddity. Working for Günter would have been a demotion of sorts.”

“Unless Werner put her in there to spy on Günter.”

“Yes. And I suppose I could see him doing that,” Riley said.

“Since he asked you to spy on me?”

“It wasn't stated that specifically, but yes.”

“And are you spying on me?” Emerson asked her.

“I suppose I am.” Riley kept her eyes fixed on the road, looking for the bridge exit. “How did you remember the name of an Edgar Allan Poe story?”

“When the Siddhar was training me, he had me learn all of Poe's Tales of Mystery and Imagination by heart. Along with the first five books of the Bible, the Purva of Jainism, and the tragedies of Shakespeare.”

“Just the tragedies?”

“They have all the good lines.”

“Why all that memorizing? Don't you have a computer? Or Google?”

“ ‘Wax on, wax off.' ”

“You're quoting
Karate Kid
now?”

“I also memorized a lot of movies from the eighties. But the point was to exercise my mind. The material I memorized was incidental.”

“Oh, yeah. Like when Mr. Miyagi from
Happy Days
had Ralph Macchio wash his car. It was to teach him a greater lesson. I can't remember what.”

“Television lessons tend to be fleeting,” Emerson said.

“What else did that Siddhar teach you? Did he teach you Kung Fu? I bet he taught you Kung Fu.”

“He didn't teach me Kung Fu. Although I know many forms of martial arts.”

“Does he have a white beard and bushy white eyebrows? Does he wear a long white robe?”

“No, no, and yes. The robe was terry cloth and I believe he ordered it from Pottery Barn.”

“Did he do magic tricks? Walk on coals? Sleep on a bed of nails?”

“I don't think you take this seriously. But I'm enjoying this repartee. You have an agile mind.”

“My agile mind is working overtime trying not to panic over the fact that we just committed a felony. Are you sure Irene doesn't know about the gold bar?”

“There's one way we can be sure if she
does
know about it.”

“What's that?”

“If we're arrested for stealing it,” he said.