Frenzy

“Not that I could surmise. But when I saw her name in the paper, and what had happened, I determined to phone you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“That’s because I had another, more curious phone call, and I wondered if the calls might be co

“Why is that?”

“I said I didn’t know Jeanine Carson as a friend, and that’s true. I also know that Andria Bell and Jeanine were . . . quite close. They were both involved in the art world. So was a woman named Ida Tucker, who called me.”

Qui

“That would be after Andria’s death,” Qui

“Yes. This Ida Tucker tried to negotiate by phone to buy a piece of art that I don’t possess.” Something, along with a wider smile, an added sheen to his complexion and sparkle in his dark eyes, transformed Castle’s face. “She claimed it was a lost Michelangelo sculpture titled Bellezza.” He leaned closer to Qui

“It means beauty in Italian,” Qui

“Very good! The Tucker woman described a small white marble bust of a beautiful woman that was said to have been modeled after a very influential courtesan of the church. Legend has it that she was murdered to ensure her silence.”

A courtesan of the church.

Qui

Castle seemed dead serious.

“So what did this marble bust look like?” Qui

“She didn’t describe the bust in detail, but said she inherited some letters her brother-in-law, Henry Tucker, wrote on his deathbed that do describe it. She said she was afraid to mail such information or discuss it over the phone. So she gave the letters to a trusted friend, who was traveling to New York with some students anyway. She was to show the letters to me.”

“Andria Bell,” Qui

Castle nodded. “Exactly. She phoned but didn’t make a co

“Why would she be hesitant?”

Castle shrugged his beefy shoulders. “I suppose she wanted to make sure I was the right man. I would think this bust is worth a great deal of money.”

Qui

“Yes,” Castle said, “but this seemed to be about something other than money. Something more was making her cautious.”

“What would that be?”

The thick black mustache across from Qui

“Ah, Maria!”

Qui

“My wife, Maria,” Castle said, with a sweeping motion of his right arm, as if introducing a celebrity. “Detective Qui

The fleshy, dark-haired woman smiled warmly. Flesh crinkled around her dark eyes, but not in a way that made her look older. “That’s wonderful.”

“I haven’t exactly—”

“We’re paying him fifty thousand dollars if he’s successful,” Castle said.

Maria seemed unmoved by the number.

“You have to understand,” Qui

“The one who killed Andria Bell and those other poor women.”

Maria appeared distressed. Qui

“This is something of a bonus for you, Detective Qui

Qui

This was, Qui

Qui

“You will accept our payment for your services?” Castle asked.

“Let’s see how the investigation goes,” Qui

Castle suddenly seemed to get taller, paunchier, distressed and insulted. Quite a gamut of emotions played over his wide features. “I can assure you the bust is not stolen property from some museum.”

“We’ll check the museums as a matter of routine,” Qui

“We shall shake on it,” Castle said, extending his hand. Another abrupt change of mood. He moved in on Qui

“This is wonderful!” Maria said, beaming at Qui

Qui

“Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to slight anyone.” Now she actually did cross herself, absently and so quickly that Qui

“Which two are those?” Qui

Maria clasped her hands, and her Renaissance peasant features became solemn. “Andria Bell and Jeanine Carson.”

Qui

“Sisters,” Maria Castle said. “They were—God help them—sisters.”

27

“Sisters, all right,” Jerry Lido said. He had spent much of the night doing ancestry research online. He’d informed Qui

He was slumped in an uncomfortable wooden chair angled toward Qui

“Andria Bell and Jeanine Carson are daughters of Ida Tucker and Robert Kingdom. Jeanine was briefly married to a Brady Carson, who died three years ago in a boating accident on Lake Erie.”

“What kind of accident?”

“Explosion. Fumes from the boat’s engine compartment below deck built up and went boom.” Lido shrugged his bony shoulders. “It happens with some frequency. Nothing suspicious about it, and nothing to suggest there was an investigation.”

“Was he alone on the boat?”

“No, he was with a fishing guide. That’s whose boat it was. The guide lived long enough to tell his rescuers what happened. Carson had ducked below deck to get some tackle, and he lit a cigar. It was unlit in his mouth when he lowered himself down through the hatch, and he had a book of matches in his hand. That was all the guide remembered. He’d yelled for Carson to be careful, but it was too late.” Lido gave a weary, wicked grin. “Bad things can happen when you light a forbidden cigar.”