“What’s wrong with your lip?” She touched the swelling on my face.
“It’s nothing. I’m more concerned about you. And some good news. I may have the answer to Hal’s game.”
“Really?”
We went into the study off the family room, where I drew a sketch for her.
“Four letters are missing:
“Oh brother,” Laurel said. “I’m embarrassed I didn’t see that. That wasn’t very inspired. Hal was usually a bit more inventive.”
I’d already saved the image of the second puzzle on my BlackBerry, so Laurel couldn’t see how I’d made the transition. I opened it and showed it to her. “Recognize it?” I asked.
“Of course.
Only two squares to be filled out this time. I tried the obvious answer, Durer’s initials,
Melencolia 1 by Albrecht Durer, 1514
“Did Hal mention anything in particular he liked about the picture?”
“I’m not sure. He loved Durer and M.C. Escher because they understood the mathematics of space and the connection between numbers and visual art.” She thought for a few minutes. “Nothing comes to mind about anything specific he liked.”
“What did he really intend?” I felt desperate. “I don’t have time to fool around with this. Is he just going to keep stringing me along?”
“Knowing Hal, there’s more to come. He didn’t just pluck these puzzles out of thin air. They point to a meaning, some kind of underlying theme. How did you make the switch from the first puzzle to this one?”
I sidestepped her question. “You’re giving him far too much credit. Hal was no better than a thief. Thanks to him my life is now pure hell.”
Laurel bristled. “And all the money you made selling off his father’s collection, you conveniently forgot about that.”
Her reaction caught me off guard. “All I got was 20 percent. That’s lower than a lot of dealers ask for. And I’m still owed money from the loan I gave him.”
“You’re whining about the world not treating you right. That’s your problem, John. With Samuel or Hal, anyone who’s been good to you, you just take whatever is on offer. And when that stops you throw a tantrum.”
I was on the verge of losing my temper big time when I remembered that as his legal wife, Laurel would have inherited his wealth. With Peter’s collection sold off and the properties in limbo, she’d have nothing left. Part- time teaching hours and grant money don’t stretch far in this city.
She whipped around to face me. “Why are you doing this anyway? For the money, right? You said that thing was really valuable.”
“It’s not about money. I want those people off my back. And yours too. I have to find it. When I do I’ll make a very public show about handing it over to the FBI. That’s the only way they’ll leave us alone.”
“Someone will locate it eventually. Let them deal with it.”
“I can’t. Eris attacked me last night. She’s convinced I know where the engraving is. She wants my scalp.”
This shook her up a bit. “Tell the police then—they can take care of it.”
“You’re kidding me, right? After what that detective already put me through? He won’t believe a thing I say.”
Laurel slumped onto the couch, put her head in her hands, and drew her legs up. I sat down beside her. “Laurie, you’re going through a difficult time. I know that.”
“How am I supposed to plan for a funeral, John? The police sent some things over they found on Hal and don’t need for forensics. I couldn’t bear to look at the stuff. They won’t even tell me when they’re releasing his body.” Tears filled her eyes.
“Listen to me. You need to get out of here. Is there no one you can stay with? What about your parents? Where do they live?”
“In North Dakota. They have a poultry farm outside Bismarck. But that’s not even a last resort. I’m not welcome there. You could say there’s a bit of a lifestyle clash.”
“It would be a good place to stay, short term anyway. You’d be safe.”
The look on her face told me what she thought of that idea. “Sure, trot home, hanging my head in shame. My mother was always on my case about Hal. I had to beg him to make even one trip to meet my parents. I shouldn’t have bothered because she couldn’t stand him. ‘Too many airs and graces,’ she said.
“She never wanted me to come to New York in the first place. I can still hear her. ‘We have a decent university in our own state, why isn’t that good enough for you?’ She made some lame excuse for not showing up to the wedding. When the marriage fell apart, do you know what Mom’s comment was? ‘Well, Loretta, at least he’s finally out of your life.’ She actually laughed. I can just imagine what she’d say, given how Hal died.”
“You’re going to have to hang out with me then, until we can figure something else out.” I put my arm around her. “What’s with Loretta?”
“I could never stand my name. I started using Laurel the minute I left home.”
“I’ll remember that next time I’m mad at you.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry for getting temperamental. I know you’re doing all you can. I’m just so stressed out. It’s bad enough with what happened to Hal and then coping with all the problems around the estate. Now I have to worry about some weird group of killers. It’s insane.”
Teardrops clung to her long lashes. She reached for a tissue to pat them away. She had beautiful eyes, grayish hued indoors but green in the sunlight.
“I woke up last night with the worst feeling,” she said.
“I had a nightmare too.”
“It wasn’t a nightmare. Just a sense that everything’s going seriously wrong, like I’m caught in a web and can’t break free.”
“You should move out, for a while anyway. I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, let’s visit Reed at his office at NYU and see if he can tell us anything. After that we’ll stop by Phillip Anthony’s gallery. He’s an expert on Renaissance prints who can advise us about Durer.”
“All right. Can you wait while I shower and get some stuff together?”
Laurel’s frame of mind wasn’t helped by her surroundings. She seemed lost in Mina’s place, swallowed up by it. It had a depressing, worn-out feeling in spite of its luxurious furnishings. Almost four thousand square feet on two floors and all of it unoccupied, except for her small domain in the family room.
Looking out the French doors, I could see one of the gargoyles stationed on a cornice over the terrace, a winged figure with a snarling lion’s head, a lion’s body, and a dragon’s tail, not unlike an Assyrian demon. Gargoyles protected against evil spirits, which is why they were used on European churches. But this one seemed to draw the evil in.
When Laurel returned she looked like a different woman. She’d put on a dress, a green floral print with a tight bodice and flouncy skirt, a kind of hippie-chick number that showed off her curves admirably. Her rich, natural brown hair fell in silky coils to the base of her long neck. I liked the fact that she didn’t touch it up.
We left the moody atmosphere behind.
I decided not to bother with the car. NYU was just around the corner, and Phillip Anthony’s gallery not much farther away. Besides, I didn’t want Laurel to think I drove a rental by choice. My Maserati coupe had been totaled
