“Turn yourself in.”
“But I’m an innocent man.”
“All the more reason. Get everything straightened out, then resume your life.”
“And it’s going to be a very nice life.”
“Harvey, you seem to be laboring under the misapprehension that you are still in Carrie’s will.”
“Of course I am — she didn’t have time to change it.”
“On the contrary, I drew a new will for her, and she swiftly executed it. I think I can tell you, without violating a confidence, that the only mention of your name in the document is a statement excluding you from inheriting any part of the estate.”
“The bitch! I’ll contest it!”
“You don’t have a leg to stand on. You’re divorced, you agreed to and were paid a generous settlement, and then she changed her will. No attorney in the United States would take your case under those circumstances.” This was not strictly true, Stone knew, but he wanted to be emphatic.
“Well, that’s a disappointment.”
“There’s also the matter of your murdering her, which would prevent you from inheriting, even if you were still in the will.”
“But I didn’t murder her!”
“Then that’s exactly what you should tell the police when you have your inevitable chat with them.”
“I suppose you’d be glad to arrange that.”
“I’d be delighted. Where can I get in touch with you?”
“I think it’s best that I stay on the move.”
“Harvey, do you have any idea what you’re up against? Three police forces, one of them the largest in the world, have made your arrest a top priority, and you have no idea what they can bring to bear on that.”
“I watch enough TV to make a pretty good guess,” Harvey said. “And that reminds me, I should hang up now or you’ll trace my call. Maybe I’ll be in touch.” He hung up.
Stone hung up, too, and Joan came in, shaking her head. “It was a cell call from somewhere outside the city. There wasn’t time to figure out where. We’re not expecting another visit from Mr. Biggers, are we?”
“Not likely.”
32
Stone and Gala had breakfast in bed the following morning.
“I’m going up to Carrie Fiske’s apartment this morning to look it over,” Stone said “Would you like to come along?”
“Yes. Do you have a key?”
“Sheriff Martinez sent her luggage from the Ghost Ranch house,” Stone said. “Her handbag was among her effects, and there were keys to her properties.”
“I’d love to see it.”
They arrived at the Park Avenue building at mid-morning; Stone identified himself to the building’s superintendent, and they were allowed to enter the apartment.
“How long did Ms. Fiske own the apartment?” Stone asked the man.
“Her grandfather was the original owner,” he replied. “Her parents lived here, too, part of the time, and she owned it since their deaths a few years ago. I’ll leave you to look around, Mr. Barrington.”
Stone and Gala wandered around the rooms, Gala pointing out various pieces of furniture and art. They went upstairs to where the four bedrooms were and went into the master. “That’s a Klimt, I believe,” Gala said, indicating a large painting on the wall over a dressing table. She opened a large art book on the dressing table and found the picture. “There you are. A pity it’s not The Woman in Gold.”
They went into Carrie’s dressing room, which was very large. “Goodness, what a wardrobe!” Gala said, looking through the dresses. “I believe some of these things must have belonged to her grandmother and mother.”
Stone leaned against a panel, and it gave a little, then sprang open, revealing a large safe with an electronic keypad lock. “This looks custom-made,” he said. He dug into his pocket and found the key to the apartment. On the same ring was a gold tag with a number engraved on it.
“Is that the combination?” Gala asked.
“Two-two-seven-seven-four-three,” Stone read from the tag. “Those numbers, converted to letters, spell ‘Carrie.’” He tapped the numbers into the keypad and spun the safe’s wheeclass="underline" the door opened. “It’s just a large jewelry box,” Stone said. He pulled out a couple of trays to reveal pairs of earrings and some rings.
“I think you should auction these pieces individually,” Gala said. She pulled out the bottom tray and gasped.
“What is it?”
Gala picked up the piece: it was a high choker made of diamonds and rubies. “I don’t believe it.”
“What don’t you believe?”
Carrie took him by the hand and led him back into the bedroom, where she flipped through the pages of the Klimt book until she found the portrait she was looking for.
“The Woman in Gold,” Stone said. “I’ve seen it at the Neue Galerie.”
Gala pointed at the necklace in the portrait. “Look at this,” she said, holding up the choker next to the portrait. “Did you see the film about the painting?”
“No.”
“Along with this portrait and other Klimts, the Nazis stole this choker from the family, and it ended up on the neck of Mrs. Hermann Goering.”
“You think it’s the real thing?”
“Let’s go back to the safe.” She led him back to the dressing room and opened a small door inside the safe. There was a stack of papers inside, and Gala riffed through them. “Receipts,” she said, “some of them going back to the twenties.” She pulled out a yellowed envelope, which bore the legend Bijoux Blume, Rue St.-Honoré, Paris. “How’s your French?” she asked.
“Poor.”
“I’ll translate — it was sold to one A. L. Fiske, in 1946. It was made by Blume from the original design drawings of the choker depicted in Klimt’s Woman in Gold. The diamonds are all certified as flawless, as are the rubies.”
“Do you suppose the jeweler is still there?”
Gala produced her iPhone and Googled the shop. “No mention of it. This receipt is dated more than sixty years ago.”
“I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Stone said. “Does anybody know where the original necklace is?”
Gala did some more Googling. “Apparently, the last time it was seen, Mrs. Goering was wearing it.” She read on. “As the Russians approached Carinhall, Goering’s hunting lodge, he removed his belongings and burned the place to the ground. I wonder where he took them?”
“That would have been right at the end of the war,” Stone said. “I don’t think he would have taken them to Berlin.”
“Switzerland,” Gala said. “I’ll bet he got everything to Switzerland.” She read on. “Goering was Hitler’s deputy and was supposed to succeed him on his death. He sent Hitler a message saying that, if he didn’t hear from him shortly, he would assume command of the Reich in Hitler’s name, as Hitler had earlier provided. Martin Bormann intercepted the message and convinced Hitler that Goering was attempting a coup, so in his will, Hitler dismissed Goering from all his posts. Goering had fled to his retreat on the Obersalzberg, and he was then moved to Radstadt, near Salzburg, in Austria, where he was arrested by the U.S. Army. There’s no mention of his personal property.”
Stone looked carefully at the necklace. “There’s something engraved here, but it’s too small for my eyes.”
Gala peered at it. “Mine too.”
Stone found a small velvet bag in the safe and dropped the choker into it and put it into his jacket pocket. He pocketed the Blume receipt, as well.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, closing the safe and spinning the wheel. As they emerged from the elevator the man at the desk motioned him over.
“Ms. Fiske’s former husband was just here,” he said. “He wanted to collect some of his things from the apartment. I told him you were here, and he said he’d come back later.”