lighted and hermetically sealed-within the core of this new business tower. The only clue that we were anywhere near a corporate office was the four television screens-one in a bookcase on each wall, so that they could be viewed from every angle in the room-on which the Bloomberg channels ran continuously.
“No windows?” Mike asked as Jonah glanced at the numbers as they glided by.
“Can’t do. The books have to be protected from the sun, from any dampness or dust that seeps in,” Krauss said. “But it suits me fine. I’d rather be surrounded by them all day than staring out at the city. The kids who work for me have their offices on the perimeter. Big views, so they can dream bigger. Keeps them hungry. Want to tell me about Tina?”
“Somebody killed her,” Mike said.
“How did it happen? Why?”
In the fifteen-second intervals when Krauss wasn’t distracted by the ticker, he seemed genuinely surprised by the news.
“We’re still trying to figure that out. Nobody from the library called you?”
“What does her murder have to do with the library?”
“Everything, apparently. How well did you know Tina Barr?”
“Not much better than I know you, Detective. I met her when she worked at the library. I guess you got to me because I’m on the board. She was handling some important restoration projects, the kind of thing it interests me to learn about. I looked over her shoulder a few times, but that’s as close as it got.”
Mercer was making his way around the room, tilting his head to study the titles of the books. “Did she do any work for you directly?”
“No. No, she didn’t. I have someone in England who handles all my books. I just hadn’t any need for Tina’s services, although I admired her talent. Look, guys, what happened to her?”
“Somebody killed her,” Mike said.
“Where? I wasn’t sure Tina was still in town.”
“I expect it happened in the basement of the public library.”
“Once upon a time, maybe.”
“And who do you think is responsible? A workman? A trespasser? I know our security isn’t foolproof, Detectives, but the idea of a murder inside the building is preposterous.”
“More likely it’s going to be someone who knew Tina,” Mercer said. He was standing behind me, his large body framed by shelves of books with gilt and silver-tooled decorations and lettering on their spines.
“Such a quiet girl. I can’t imagine she made many enemies. How can I help?”
“When’s the last time you spoke with her?” Mercer asked.
“A month ago, maybe two. I hosted a cocktail party for the opening of our Dickens exhibit. We’ve got an extensive collection that hadn’t been seen all together in a dog’s age. I know Tina was there. Everyone in the conservation lab had done some work on that over the last couple of years, and I thanked her for that. I don’t think-wait a minute,” Krauss said. “I did see her again.”
“When?” Mike asked.
“Within the last couple of weeks. I had stopped in at the lab because one of the girls had been working on an illuminated manuscript of Petrarch’s poems. Stunning little book-brilliant pigments and elaborate detail. I was surprised to see Tina there. I didn’t think she worked at the library any longer.”
“And so you went over to talk to her?” Mike said.
“Actually, no. She said hello to me, and then-then she asked me a question, something to do with an investment idea I’d had earlier. Something I’d abandoned a while back. She was at her desk, and I guess we chatted for three or four minutes.”
“Had Tina ever talked with you about investments?” I asked.
His expression suggested my question was ridiculous. “Never.”
“Then why?”
Krauss put his hands in the pockets of his warm-up jacket and swiveled his chair back and forth. “I had a crazy idea a few years ago. Tried to put together a consortium of investors to acquire something for the library. Some bull-excuse me, Ms. Cooper-some cockamamie plan that started with board gossip. I was surprised Tina even knew anything about it.”
“But she did,” Mike said.
“Well, Detective, she wanted to.” Krauss took his left hand out of his pocket and looked at his watch. “I had nothing to tell her.”
“What was your plan?”
“I was approached by a guy who goosed me to do a joint venture. Wanted me to put up most of the money to try to buy a valuable property that would fetch a fortune, if the damn thing even existed. I figured I could find some buddies in the business to ride it with me, but the whole thing turned out to be a hoax.”
“Who told you about it?” Mike asked.
Krauss threw back his head. “You don’t want to know.”
“Try me.”
“His name’s Eddy Forbes.”
“The map thief?”
Krauss gave Mike a thumbs-up. “What’s this? Know your library felons? At the time Forbes sniffed me out, he was a scholar and a private dealer, helping some of my fellow trustees elevate their tastes and shape their collections. He fooled a lot of people in the library world.”
“What is it that Forbes wanted you to buy?”
“An old map, Mr. Chapman.”
It was the answer I expected from the lead-in Krauss gave us. What he didn’t expect was Mike’s comeback.
“The 1507 Waldseemuller world map?”
Krauss turned on the dental brights again. “Anytime you get tired of working for the department, I might have a job for you, Detective. Now, how’d you know about that?”
“Some guys are good at missing persons. I got a sixth sense about missing things,” Mike said. “Seems like everybody on your board wants a piece of it.”
“Yeah, but they’re just spinning their wheels. ’Cause if Eddy Forbes couldn’t find it or steal it, then that map is just one more piece of the legend of Jasper Hunt Jr., made up to get the rest of the rich boys buzzing.”
“You gave up on the project?” Mike asked.
“I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place. I’m not into maps,” Krauss said. “There was a well-known bibliophile named Holbrook Jackson, famous for saying, ‘Your library is your portrait.’ Look around this room. There’s not a single map on display.”
“So why did you entertain Forbes’s folly to begin with?”
“The deal, Detective. The deal always grabs me. Could have been searching for a rare map or Captain Kidd’s sunken treasure or King Solomon’s mines. It would have been spectacular if the damn thing even existed,” Krauss said, picking up a model helicopter from his desk and twirling the rotors as he talked. “People would have been throwing money at me left and right if I’d come up a winner. Instead I got hosed. Probably all went to Forbes’s defense attorney anyway.”
“And you haven’t heard from Forbes since?”
“That’s one of the conditions of his probation,” Krauss said. “He can’t be anywhere near a library and he can’t communicate with any staff or trustees.”
“Why’d he pick you in the first place if he knew you didn’t care about maps?” I asked.
“Money.”
“Everybody on your board has money.”
“Hard to get those tough old guys to part with their dough. Most of their money is older than they are.” Krauss smiled again. “I figure there’s always more to be made where the last pot of gold came from.”
I was certain that Alger Herrick had told us that Minerva Hunt was involved in a deal with Eddy Forbes.
