Murder 101. Faye Kellerman

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       CHAPTER EIGHT

      Once outside the gallery, Decker and Rina walked glove in glove down Fifth Avenue, dodging the crowds of shoppers, executive and middle management suits, and tourists who didn’t mind braving the cold to get the winter discounts at the hotels. There were a couple of kosher restaurants nearby and it was around twelve-thirty, so lunch was in order. They nabbed one of the last tables at a meat restaurant in Midtown. Erelong, there wasn’t a chair to be had. Service was slow, but that gave Decker a chance to make a few phone calls, confirming interviews with other Sobel family members.

      Forty-minutes later, the waiter served two hamburgers that were slider sized at prime rib prices. Still, it felt good to get out of the small town. He could actually feel his pulse rise. “How’s your food?”

      “It’s tasty … perfect if it were a first course.”

      “And therein lies the rub.”

      Rina smiled. “Once when I was visiting Sammy, I went out to lunch with an old friend while he was busy. I ordered a niçoise salad appetizer. I needed a magnifying glass to see it.”

      “Yeah and a pair of tweezers to pick it up.” Decker was trying to figure out how to eat the burger in more than two bites. “Thanks for coming with me.”

      “You’re welcome. Not that I learned anything juicy about Max or anyone else for that matter.”

      “So what did you learn?”

      “Gallery has been around for years. I asked if Max owns it and Jill said he works there side by side his father, Keith, whom I met.”

      “Nice guy?”

      “He was running out the door when I was introduced. He seemed fine. Also, there’s a cousin who mostly does the jewelry buying. Her name is Katy Mendel. Jill says she’s lovely.”

      “Any strife between any of the relatives? Or you probably didn’t ask.”

      “No, I didn’t ask.” Rina picked up a pickle that was bigger than the burger. “Jill didn’t give off any vibes of conflict. She’s been working there fifteen years. Are you still considering Max a suspect?”

      “I can’t see him stealing four small Tiffany panels, ruining his name, and committing a crime, when he has such a vast inventory to steal from. And he could probably alter the books without anyone noticing for a while. So for the moment, he’s near the bottom.”

      Rina said, “So what’s your plan now?”

      “I’ll go down the list of family members and people who knew about the panels and see what I can dig up. What’s the jewelry woman’s name again? Katy what?”

      “Mendel.”

      “Thanks.” Decker wrote the name on his notepad. “I did find out from Tyler that stealing from graveyards isn’t unusual. The most likely culprits are the caretakers and people who live around the cemeteries.”

      “What do they take when they’re not stealing Tiffany?”

      “Planters, urns, statues, architectural decorative elements, lawn mowers, shovels, even gravestones.”

      “So maybe your thief is closer to home.”

      “Whoever did this put time and money into replacing the panels so no one would notice. He probably had a buyer lined up before he stole the first panel.” Decker regarded his empty plate. His hand made a beeline for the breadbasket.

      Rina stopped him. “You want to split another hamburger.”

      “Not at these prices. And plus we’re taking the family out tonight. I’d like to go home with some money in the bank.”

      “We can afford another hamburger.” Without asking, Rina summoned a waiter and ordered another burger. She gave him a wide smile. “Tell them to be a little more generous on the beef. You’re not feeding supermodels, okay?”

      Decker laughed as the waiter huffed away. “Before we leave Manhattan, I’d like to check out the Met. They have Tiffany glass panels that I’d like to see. Also there’s a place … Emanu-El? Do you know it?”

      “Sure. It’s been around since the mid-1800s. It’s reform.” She began playing with her phone. “Started by German Jews. Prime example of Moorish Revival … ah, there’s a Tiffany window there. That’s why you want to see it.”

      “Not that I need to see it, but as long as I’m here I figure I should educate myself.” He looked up. “Want to come with me?”

      “I’d love to.” She stowed her phone back in her purse. “So are you going to tell me how you suddenly became an expert on Byzantine mosaics?”

      Decker smiled. “McAdams gave me a history lesson about fifteen minutes before we met to go to the gallery.”

      “Why?”