The Lost Years (34 page)

Afraid of what she was about to hear, she clutched the phone as Lloyd explained the developments surrounding Wally Gruber.

“You mean to tell me that this guy says he saw somebody running out of here right after Dad was shot? My God, Lloyd! What does this mean for Mom?”

“Mariah, I just got off the phone for the second time today with Peter Jones. He told me that the New York police have arrested Wally Gruber’s fence and all of Lisa’s jewelry has been recovered. Of course, Lisa and I are relieved about that, but much more important, it does give at least some credibility to this Gruber fellow.”

“Did he get a good look at that person? Was it a man or a woman?”

“So far, he’s not even getting that specific. He’s been trying to make a deal to get time taken off the sentences he’ll get for the burglaries. Jones has agreed to have him brought from the New York jail to the prosecutor’s office tomorrow morning so that he can sit with their composite officer. Hopefully, they’ll get a good sketch and with any luck at all it will help Kathleen.”

“You mean that it would prove Mother didn’t kill Dad?” Mariah had a vivid flash of the image of her mother arriving at the courthouse in a prison uniform.

“Mariah,” Lloyd cautioned her, “we don’t know where this is going, so don’t get your hopes up too high. But of course, if the sketch turns out to be someone whom you recognize or the detectives recognize, it would go a long way to proving that she had nothing to do with your father’s death. Don’t forget, his closest friends swore that they never saw the parchment. If they’re telling the truth, Jonathan may have consulted a different expert or experts in the field and we don’t even know who they are. And there’s always the possibility that Gruber was telling the truth about the jewelry but the rest of his story is a sham.”

“Lloyd, there’s something you don’t know yet. Greg told me that he’s had a tip that Charles Michaelson has been shopping the parchment. He said he heard it from a collector in the field. That’s all I know.”

There was momentary silence on the other end of the phone, then Lloyd said quietly, “If that is proven to be true, then at the very least Michaelson is guilty of possession of stolen property.”

Mariah’s relief at the possibility that someone whose face they might recognize would be revealed on the sketch gave way to the frightening thought that Lloyd had also told her that he had bad news.

“Lloyd, you said you had bad news for me. What is it?” she demanded.

“Mariah, the psychiatric report recommends that your mother be kept in the hospital for further observation and therapy.”

“No!”

“Mariah, it indicates that several times your mother has exhibited very aggressive behavior. ‘Further observation’ could mean her staying there as little as a week or two more. I’ve had other defendants
with psychiatric problems who’ve been in that hospital. They were well treated and safe there. The report says that she not only needs round-the-clock care but additional security measures as well. You would have to make all of those arrangements before the judge would agree to release her. I’ve already consented to putting off tomorrow’s hearing.”

“Lloyd, most of the time when she seems to be aggressive, it’s because she’s so frightened. I want to see her.” Mariah knew her voice was rising. “How do I know for sure that she’s being treated well?”

“You can start by seeing it for yourself. I told Peter Jones that I wanted you to have the right to visit her. He had no problem with that. He promised that he’ll get an order from the judge by the end of the court day. They’ll fax the order to the hospital. There are visiting hours this evening from six to eight.”

“When we do we get to see that sketch that Gruber will do tomorrow morning?”

“Jones promised me that I could come to his office after it’s done and look at it. He said he’ll give me a copy. I’ll bring it directly to you.”

With that, Mariah had to be content. She called Alvirah, told her about the conversation with Lloyd, and then, unable to even think about trying to do any work on her computer, went upstairs to her father’s bedroom. She looked sadly at the handsome four-poster bed. They bought this house and this furniture when Mom was expecting me, she thought. They told me that when I was born, they were so afraid that I might stop breathing they kept me in a crib right next to their bed for the first six months.

Until four years ago, her parents had shared this room. It had then become necessary, because of her mother’s nocturnal wanderings, to create a separately secured two-bedroom suite for her and her caregivers.

When Mom comes home, I know that Delia will fill in for me during the week until I can get a new Monday-to-Friday person, she thought. God knows where Rory’s disappeared to. But one thing is for certain. I’m giving up the apartment in New York and moving back here. So I might as well get settled into this room now. I’ve got to do something to keep myself busy. It’ll help keep me sane.

She was relieved that she had already gone through her father’s clothing. With feverish haste, she moved back and forth between the bedrooms, bundling in her arms the hanging garments from her closet and transferring them to the large walk-in closet in her father’s room. Then she pulled out the drawers from her own dresser and, not even noticing how heavy they really were, carried them down the hall and emptied their contents into her father’s mahogany dresser.

At five minutes of five, she was finished. Her father had never moved her mother’s vanity table from this room. In the early stages of her dementia, Kathleen had been frightened by the mirror over the table. Sometimes when she saw her own reflection, she had been afraid that there was an intruder in the house.

Now Mariah’s cosmetics and comb and brush were neatly arranged on its glass top. I’ll get a new spread and dust ruffle and curtains for in here, she decided. And I think I will eventually redo my old room, with those red walls and the red-and-white flowered coverlet. She recalled the Bible verse that began, “When I was a child, I spake as a child,” and ended with, “when I was a man, I put away childish things.”

Realizing what time it was, she began to worry. Why hadn’t Lloyd called again? Surely the judge wouldn’t refuse to allow her to visit her mother. That can’t happen, she thought. It simply can’t.

Ten minutes later, the phone did ring and it was Lloyd. “They
just faxed me the judge’s order. Permission granted. As I said earlier, the visiting hours are from six to eight.”

“I’ll be there at six,” Mariah said. “Thanks, Lloyd.” She heard her cell phone ringing in the study. She hurried downstairs and looked at the caller ID. It was Richard. With a mixture of anger and sadness, she decided not to take the call.

I
t’s a blessing that Albert West lives only a few blocks away from us and we don’t have to bother with the car,” Alvirah remarked as she and Willy left their apartment building, walked to the corner, and turned onto Seventh Avenue. They were meeting Albert at five o’clock for a cup of coffee at a diner on Seventh Avenue near 57th Street.

Hoping against hope that she would catch Albert at home and that he would agree to meet them right away, she had been pleasantly surprised on both levels. “Willy, unless he’s a good actor, he sounded like he actually wanted to come,” she remarked.

Puffing a bit as he endeavored to keep up with Alvirah’s quick strides, Willy asked himself why these emergency meetings always seemed to come up in the middle of a Yankees game. Although Alvirah had insisted it would be perfectly okay for her to meet him in a public place by herself, Willy was taking no chances. “I’m coming with you. End of discussion.”

“Do you think that little guy is going to kidnap me in the middle of a coffee shop?” Alvirah had joked.

“Don’t be so sure he wouldn’t be capable of it. If he’s mixed up in this whole thing and he thinks that you’re onto him, he could offer to walk you home, but you might not make it.”

As they crossed the street, they could see Albert entering the
diner. He was already seated at a booth when they got inside and he waved his hand to get their attention.

As soon as they settled in, a waitress came over and took their orders. All three decided on caffe latte. Alvirah could see the disappointment on the face of the young woman, who had obviously hoped for a food order that would run up the tab and bring a bigger tip.

She was surprised that after the waitress was out of earshot, Albert, in a tone that was both nervous and abrupt, said, “Alvirah, I know your reputation as a darn good detective. You certainly didn’t call me to socialize over coffee. Have you come up with anything?”

“I’ve heard a rumor. I’m not going to say where I heard it. From what I understand, you and Charles had been driving to Jonathan’s dinners together for the last year and a half since Lillian was banned from his house.”

“Yes, that’s true. Before that, Charles would go alone with Lillian and I would drive my own car.”

“Albert, the rumor I heard is that Charles has been shopping the parchment. Do you think that there is any chance that could be happening?”

She and Willy could both see in Albert’s expression his reluctance to answer.

Finally he said, “I not only think it’s happening, but I actually spoke about it to the detectives in New Jersey yesterday. I have always considered Charles to be a good friend, so it was very painful for me to talk about him in this vein.”

Alvirah sat back as the waitress placed the tall glasses of latte in front of them on the table. “Albert, what did you tell the detectives?”

“Exactly what I’m going to tell you now. Desmond Rogers, a wealthy collector beyond reproach, whom Charles defrauded a number of years ago, was the source of my information. He didn’t volunteer how he knew and I didn’t ask.”

Albert took a sip of his latte and, knowing that he was about to be cross-examined by Alvirah, repeated to her and Willy what he had told the detectives about the previous fraud involving Charles and Desmond.

“Albert, this is very important. Will you try to get Desmond on the phone right now and ask him where he got that information?”

Albert frowned. “Quite frankly, Desmond Rogers pays confidential sources in the antiquities world to keep him informed of what’s coming on the market. I am sure that he would never buy anything without impeccable provenance—which is why he would never have bid for the parchment.”

Alvirah replied, “Albert, I’m not suggesting that Rogers has done anything wrong. But you’ve told us that he lost a lot of money because of Charles. Maybe he was only too happy to pass on this kind of information. But if he or one of his sources truly does have solid proof about this, you have to know it’s probably tied in with Jonathan’s death. It’s important that he fully understand that Jonathan’s murder and the disappearance of two women who were close to him all may be connected to that parchment.”

Albert shook his head. “And you don’t think that all this hasn’t occurred to me?” he asked wearily as he pulled out his cell phone. “I absolutely trust Desmond’s integrity. He would never touch that parchment or any other stolen property, but I assure you he’ll never betray his sources. If he did, the word would get around and he’d never be able to use them again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll step outside and make the call. I’ll be right back.”

He was gone a full ten minutes. When he returned, his face was flushed and angry. “I never thought that Desmond Rogers would pull this on me. I’ve been sick ever since I told the cops what he told me about Charles. Now I find out that Desmond
didn’t
hear this from a reliable source. When I asked him about it, at first he hedged around and then finally admitted that he had received an
anonymous call. He couldn’t even tell if it was a man or woman. The voice was husky and low. The caller said that Charles was accepting bids on the parchment and that if Desmond was interested he should give him a call.”

“I thought that might be the case,” Alvirah said with satisfaction in her voice. “What did Desmond say to that person?”

“I can’t repeat to a lady what he claims he said. And then he hung up.”

Studying Albert intently, Alvirah watched as the veins in his forehead began to bulge.

“I’m going to call those detectives first thing in the morning,” he said angrily, slapping his hand on the table. “They should know this. And I have to decide whether to admit to Charles what I said about him.”