“Not to worry. I’m behaving like Pat’s new best friend.”

“And Moffett’s law secretary called about that familial search issue in the Griggs case,” Laura said. “Is Mr. Fine the defendant’s lawyer?”

“Yes.”

“Moffett let him go back to California ’cause he hadn’t finished writing his decision, so he won’t announce it until Wednesday, when Fine can be back in town. I’ve got you calendared to be up in court at ten a.m.”

“Thanks, Laura. We’ve waited eight years for a good lead in Kayesha’s case. One more week won’t be a deal breaker.”

“I’ll call you if anything else comes up. Tell Mike not to work you too hard.”

Ten minutes later, Mike came through the door of Jill’s office. He had been running, I guessed, from the way he was panting.

“You mind stepping out, Jill? I need a minute with Alex.”

She was almost bristling now, put out in every way possible and cut off from her staff. She left the room without answering.

“First of all, it’s like a mob scene on the street. We’ll have to try to duck out with some cover on the Fortieth Street side, unless you want your puss all over the news. The staff comes and goes by the old carriage entrance-shipping and receiving now-so maybe an RMP can pull in and take us to my car.”

“Employees?”

“Nah. Lieutenant Peterson’s playing hardball out there. He’s let a few of the curators in, in case CSU needs them as they work their way around. Everybody else has been told to take the day off and come back on Monday.”

“What then?”

“I haven’t seen so many guys in uniform since the Paddy’s Day parade. Only this time they’re sober,” Mike said. “And if you think that good-looking army of cops-and the shitload of yellow tape that’s wrapped around the entire circumference of Bryant Park-hasn’t attracted every crime reporter in town, you’d be mistaken.”

“And the hatch?”

“Couldn’t have made it easier unless somebody shot the body out of a rocket launcher.”

“How?”

“Look, Coop. Yesterday afternoon, that end of the park was teeming with workmen. Say our boy was anywhere in the ’hood and saw the staging area setting up for the ball game. Here’s his golden opportunity.”

“Well, you’re assuming he’s familiar with the library.”

“Damn right I am. This scheme wasn’t launched by some junkie looking to get high. Five o’clock last night, the whole place goes dark. Everybody scatters for home.”

“Tina’s dead?”

“Killed in the lab. What did Dr. Assif say? Maybe the evening before. No struggle. She knew the guy, I’m thinking. Trusted him. Maybe they were hanging out together for a reason. Hoist on her own petard.”

“What?”

“The weapon. I’ll bet the weapon came right off the top of her desk,” Mike said. “Now back to last night.”

“Yeah, but if the killer doesn’t work in the lab, how did he get back in to get her body?”

“He had her ID tag. Swiped it and came back. Covered her little body with a tarp, took it out of the freezer, and dollied it down the hall, down the ramp, down to the stacks.”

“It must be so sinister there at night.”

“Nobody around to get in his way. Push up the hatch and roll one more tarp among all the others,” Mike said. “Count on the fact that he’s a Red Sox fan to even think of screwing up a Yankee game like that.”

“It’s incredibly risky,” I said. “Smarter just to leave the body in the freezer. Who knows when it would have been found?”

“You’re not thinking, Blondie. My guy didn’t go there for the body. That was just pure carpe diem. Carpe corpse. My killer went back for the books.”

“What books?” I asked.

“The ones I found under the water tank. The one that had the map inside,” Mike said, doodling on a paper on Jill’s blotter. “I’m figuring he might have had them stashed in the freezer with Barr’s body, then moved them upstairs last night after he disposed of her.”

“So when did he leave the library?”

“Who says he left?”

“That’s a chilling thought.”

“You know how enormous this place is-above and below ground? That’s why nobody’s getting in until it’s swept by Scully’s finest.”

“What if he just walked out the door this morning?”

“Who?”

“Your killer. I mean, security wasn’t letting people in, but nobody said anything about letting anyone out. Especially with all the commotion outside, and the staff gathering at the entrance. What if he passed for a detective and just walked into the crowd?”

Mike’s eyebrows raised. “You think too much. That’s one of your problems.”

“So why am I wasting time with this list of trustees, Mike? Your scenario doesn’t quite fit what I’d assume would be the modus operandi of all the deep-pocketed Seconds and Thirds, the Juniors and Seniors who sit on this board. Or Minerva Hunt.”

“Partners in crime. Some grunt getting paid to do the dirty work. What did Jill Gibson tell you the other day? That map thieves steal to order. We ought to talk to that master thief, Eddy Forbes. See if his parole officer can lean on him to squeal. If he’s got anything to give, maybe you can cut him a deal. Forbes can’t be the only library rat ever running around loose in the stacks. He might know some of the other players.”

“I’m yours for the day,” I said.

“Start making your wish list. Your afternoon itinerary,” Mike said, opening Jill’s office door. “I just need to call the morgue and see when they’re going to autopsy Barr, grab Mercer, and then we’re off.”

Jill was sitting in the alcove of the executive suite. She stood up as we came toward her, and Mike asked if he could use the phone on the desk.

I was staring at a portrait that hung on the end wall of the narrow room as Mike dialed.

“Jasper Hunt,” Jill said to me. “The First. Done by the great Thomas Eakins, while he was teaching in New York at the Art Students League in the 1880s.”

It wasn’t the striking figure of Hunt that had caught my attention.

“Look at that, Mike,” I said. “Look at his hand.”

“I’ll be damned. It’s Hunt and his armadillo.”

“Armillary, not armadillo,” Jill said, in a humorless effort to correct Mike. “The brass rings represent the principal circles of the heavens.”

I walked closer to look at the detail. Jasper Hunt’s hand was resting on the brass skeleton of the sphere.

“It’s the one.” There was no question from the markings and detail portrayed that it was the weapon that had killed Karla Vastasi.

“You know the painting?” Jill asked. “We’re so fortunate that Mr. Hunt gave this to us. You don’t see many Eakinses outside of Philadelphia.”

I couldn’t think of anything else except connecting the lethal antique to Jasper Hunt himself. But Jill continued explaining the significance of the art to us.

“Important men often had their portraits done with their armillaries. It was such a complex device that it was used to represent the height of wisdom.”

“Sit tight for a few hours, Jill. We’ll call you later.” Mike hung up the phone. “Saddle up, Coop.”

He broke into a run and I trailed behind him, out of the executive suite, down the great staircase to the lobby. “I’m all turned around,” he said. “Which way is the map division?”

I pointed to the north end of the hall and tried to stay with him as he picked up speed. He threw open the door and startled Bea, who was sitting at her computer.

“How long will it take you to work up a historical footprint?”

“Depends on the location. You picked a good day, Detective,” she said, winking at him. “I seem to have some time on my hands. What’s the address?”

Mike gave her the number of the brownstone on East Ninety-third Street in which Tina Barr had last lived, the building in which Karla Vastasi had been murdered.

“There’s a whole row of houses there that have been in the Hunt family for more than a hundred years. Tell me anything about those properties you can learn from your maps, Bea. Dig me up some footprints as fast as you can.”