“Look, fellas,” Barton said, “just rewrap the bloody thing and get it out of here, will you?”

The three of them went to work, taping the blankets around the piece, while Barton watched impatiently, then they loaded it back into the van and left.

“Why don’t we get some dinner and take the thing back tomorrow?” Dino asked.

“Because,” Stone said, “Charlie Crow is sending somebody to pick it up tomorrow morning at eight.”

“Oh.”

Stone looked at his watch. “We might make it to Elaine’s by midnight.”

“Yeah,” Dino said, “if we don’t get arrested for grand theft secretary.”

At the Sutton warehouse, they woke up the night man, who was snoring away, his feet on his desk.

“What?” he said, snapping his eyes open.

“We’re taking this piece to Mr. Crow’s locker,” Cantor said.

“Didn’t you just take it out?”

“We got our orders,” Cantor replied.

“Okay, go ahead,” the man said.

They trundled the two pieces up to the locker, which Cantor opened with his lock picks, and, when the pieces had been returned to their original spot, snapped the lock shut again.

Stone and Dino walked into Elaine’s at half past midnight, while Cantor parked the van. The joint was jumping. Gianni, one of the two headwaiters, approached them. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I’d have kept a table for you.”

Stone looked at his regular table and saw four people he didn’t know sitting there. “Who’s that?”

“A guy named Charlie Crow, big deal in real estate.”

Dino began to laugh.

“Oh, shut up,” Stone said.

“All I’ve got is something in the next room,” Gianni said.

“I’ve never even been in the next room,” Stone said, “except for a party.”

“Come on,” Gianni said. “I’ll bring you a cake with a candle on it.”

Dino was still laughing when they sat down.

“Gianni,” Stone said, “head off Bob Cantor when he comes in, and bring him in here. Don’t let Mr. Crow see him, if you can help it. And bring whiskey, quickly.”

Cantor was at the table by the time the drinks came. “Jesus, I just saw Charlie Crow in the other room, sitting at your table.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Stone said.

Dino began to laugh again. “Shall we send Mr. Crow’s party some drinks?”

The three of them ordered dinner.

“Dino,” Stone said when they had finished eating, “can you put a couple of guys on the warehouse tomorrow morning? I want to know where Crow has the secretary delivered.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dino said, getting out his phone.

Stone was having breakfast the next morning when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“It’s Dino.”

“Where’d they take it?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“My guys watched them load the secretary into a dark green furniture van with the name Van Hooten on the side, then they followed the van. It got onto the West Side Highway and headed north. They followed it up the Sawmill River Parkway as far as Yonkers, then they called me, and I told them to come back to the precinct.”

“You couldn’t let them follow it all the way?”

“All the way to where? Montreal? You don’t know where the fuck they’re taking the thing.”

Stone thanked Dino and hung up. “Maybe I do,” he said aloud to himself. He picked up the phone and called Barton Cabot.

“Hello?”

“It’s Stone, Barton. I’m sorry about last night. I thought we had found your secretary.”

“No harm done,” Barton replied.

“I hope you had a good dinner with Carla.”

“I had a good everything with Carla. She’s quite a girl. I’m taking her back to the city this morning.”

“Dino put a couple of detectives on the warehouse, and a van with the name Van Hooten picked it up and drove north. They followed it as far as Yonkers, then broke off the tail.”

“Van Hooten is a respected dealer in furniture,” Barton said.

“I wonder if you’d do something for me before you leave for New York?”

“What?”

“Could you drive up to the clearing that overlooks Ab Kramer’s house and see if the van turns up there? It’s dark green, and it should be arriving in about an hour, if it’s coming.”

“All right, I guess I could do that. You think maybe Ab bought the piece from Charlie Crow?”

“Let me ask you this: If Ab saw the piece we had last night, could he distinguish it from the real thing?”

“He could, if he read the brass plate on the back.”

“What if Charlie was smart enough to remove the plate?”

“Ab has a good eye, but he doesn’t have any real depth of knowledge about that period. It’s a handsome piece; it might fool him. You think Charlie is ripping off Ab?”

“It’s a possibility,” Stone said. “It’s not hard to fool somebody who already believes he’s getting the real thing.”

“How very interesting,” Barton said. “I’ll call you when I know more.”

40

Stone was about to go to lunch when Joan buzzed him. “Barton Cabot on line one for you.”

Stone punched the button. “Barton?”

“Yes. Carla and I are on the way to Manhattan.”

“What happened at Ab’s house?”

“The Van Hooten van arrived, and they unloaded two pieces, wrapped the way the ones last night were wrapped.”

“So, Ab bought the Charleston secretary from Charlie Crow.”

“It would appear so. Next time I see Ab, he’ll tell me about it, if he thinks he has the real thing.”

“I especially want to know if Ab thinks he has the real thing.”

“If he thinks so, he might ask me to authenticate it.”

“He might, if he had no part in Charlie’s stealing the original.”

“We don’t know if Charlie stole the original,” Barton pointed out. “He may just be selling Ab a copy, identified as such.”

“I guess I still have more work to do on the original theft, then.”

“I guess you do.” Barton hung up.

Joan buzzed again. “Dino on line one.”

“Good morning.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Charlie Crow is on the move today.”

“Where?”

“He’s in Bristol, Rhode Island, right now. Drove up this morning.”

“You have an address?”

“It’s Water Street, which is only a block long, but I don’t have eyes on him, so I don’t know which house or building.”

“I wish we had somebody up there,” Stone said.

“Wait a minute,” Dino said. “I know a retired police captain in Providence who will do anything for two hundred bucks. He’s not that far away. Let’s see if he’ll drive down there.”

“Call me back.”

Dino hung up, and Stone ordered in a sandwich; he didn’t want to miss this call.

Nearly two hours passed before Dino called back. “Hey. My guy knows somebody in Bristol, and he went down there. We’ll give them a hundred each, okay?”

“Okay. What do we know?”

“Crow’s Rolls was parked in front of number eleven Water Street, and he left half an hour ago. He answered to the description of Crow. Hang on, call on the other line.” Dino put Stone on hold.

Stone worked on the Times crossword for three minutes.

“I’m back. You there?”

“I’m here. What’s a four-letter word for a Siouxan tribe?”

“Otoe.”

“Right.” Stone wrote that in. “What did he find out?”

“Our guy made some calls. The owner of the house is a Mrs. Caleb Strong, first name, Mildred. She’s a widow in her nineties, a prominent member of Rhode Island society for many decades. Her late husband was the last of a New England shipping family that goes back more than two hundred and fifty years.”

“Listen, give this guy a hundred and fifty; he does good work.”

“Does all this mean anything to you?”

“Not a fucking thing.”

“So why do I have to give him an extra fifty?”

“Because he’s thorough.”

“As long as it’s your fifty.”

“I’m good for it. Don’t let Charlie fall off your computer screen,” Stone said. “I want to know where he goes next.”