Painted Ladies

Then he said, “Yeah.”

40

I put my spare weaponry in a duffel bag and hauled it down the stairs to Belson’s car, which was double-parked in front of my house.

“No suitcase?” Belson said.

“I keep stuff at Susan’s,” I said.

We got in. There was no sign of a tail.

“So you got a theory about what they don’t want you to find?”

“‘Theory’ is too strong,” I said. “More like a guess.”

“Guess is better than nothing,” Belson said.

We turned right onto Berkeley Street and stopped for the light at Beacon.

“There’s an operation called the Herzberg Foundation, to which Lloyd, the lawyer who recommended Prince to the Hammond Museum, is a legal counsel. The Frans Hermenszoon painting, Lady with a Finch, which was stolen from the Hammond Museum, whose attorney is Morton Lloyd, was owned at one point by a Dutch Jewish family named Herzberg.”

The light changed. We crossed Beacon and went out onto Storrow Drive westbound.

“In 1940,” I said, “after the Nazis conquered the Netherlands, the Herzbergs were arrested by the Gestapo and sent to Auschwitz, where all but the youngest son died. The great art collection of the Herzberg family was confiscated by the Nazis, including Lady with a Finch. The son was liberated in 1945 by the Russians, and disappeared.”

“Dutch, Jewish, Holocaust, Herzberg,” Belson said. “And artwork.”

“So far,” I said.

“You talk with Lloyd yet?”

“No, but Rita Fiore has.”

“Good-looking redhead?” Belson said. “Used to be a prosecutor in Norfolk County?”

“Yep.”

“She talk to him before or after they tried to hit you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Find out,” Belson said.

“I will,” I said.

The river was on our right; no one was on it or in it. No sculls training for the Head of the Charles Regatta. No college crews readying for the season. No ducks, no geese, no loons, no cormorants, no seagulls, no sailboats, no canoes, no kayaks, just the gray water, looking cold, with ice formed along the riverbanks, where the current wasn’t as strong.

“You want me to talk to Lloyd?” Belson said. “The more we’re in it, the more it defuses their reasons to kill you.”

“And the more we lose that connection,” I said.

“We’ll lose it altogether, they scrag you,” Belson said.

“I’ll try to prevent that,” I said.

“And you’ll talk to Lloyd?” Belson said.

“Both,” I said.

41

When Susan came up from the office, I was sitting on the couch with Pearl, drinking scotch and soda with a lot of ice. Susan kept some for me. She wouldn’t drink it.

“How nice,” she said when she saw me.

“What’s for eats?” I said.

“You’re in luck,” she said. “I had friends over the other night. There’s cheese and fruit, and adorable little dinner rolls, and, I think, some cold chicken left, too. And Iron Horse champagne.”

“Zowie,” I said. “How adorable, exactly, are the dinner rolls.”

“You’ll see,” she said. “Mind if I unwind with a little wine before I set the table?”

“I was hoping you would,” I said.

Susan got some pinot grigio and brought it to the couch and sat on the side of me where Pearl was not.

“There’s a police car parked outside,” Susan said.

“Cambridge?” I sat.