“Your name wasn’t on the guest list.”
Rena still wasn’t rattled. “Like I said, people give me tickets to things all the time.” She stressed the word “give.” “I’m not a thief. I’m a starving artist.”
Marcus took a pen out of his pocket. He hooked one of the handle loops of the scissors and held them up. “Then you won’t mind coming down to the police station with me.”
“For what?” she said. “You think I killed Margo Walsh? You’re crazy. Why would I do that?”
“Your real name is Devin Rossi.” I said the words as a statement, not a question.
Rena looked at me. “No. My real name is not Devin Rossi. And I didn’t kill Margo. Why would I?” She looked from me to Marcus. A shadow passed across her face and she sighed. “Look, talk to the insurance company,” she said, gesturing with both hands. “I didn’t kill Margo. She hired me to disable the security system and steal the Weston drawing.”
19
For a moment there was silence; then Marcus said, “Rena Adler, you have the right to remain silent. Do you understand?”
Rena set down the tape dispenser and folded her arms over her chest. “Yes.”
He continued reading her the rest of her rights. When he finished she nodded. “I understand, Detective. But I don’t need a lawyer. Go ahead and ask your questions.”
I touched her arm. “Rena, are you sure about that?” I asked.
“I’m sure,” she said. Her gaze never left Marcus’s face.
“What did you do with the artwork?” he asked.
“Nothing. When I got here the security system was already turned off and the drawing wasn’t in the display case.”
“Let me get this straight; Margo Walsh hired you to steal the Weston drawing, but when you broke in it was already gone?” Marcus didn’t try to hide the skepticism in his voice.
“Yes. She wanted to prove that the security system wasn’t enough to protect the artwork so the tour would be canceled.”
Rena turned her head to look at me then. “The first meeting we all had with Margo.” She pointed across the library to one of our meeting rooms. “You were there, Kathleen. You heard what she said about the pieces belonging in a museum.”
I glanced at Marcus and nodded. “Margo thought the artwork was too old and too fragile to be out of a controlled setting.” I turned to Rena. “I don’t understand; you said your name isn’t Devin Rossi.”
“My real name isn’t Devin Rossi,” she said. “My real name is Rena Adler, and, yes, it’s a variation on Irene Adler, but I’m guessing you already figured that out. My father was a mystery lover. I got the name Devin Rossi from a movie.”
So even though Rena’s name had made me think she might be Devin Rossi, I was wrong about which of her names was a fake.
“Can you prove Margo hired you to break in to the library?” Marcus asked Rena.
“You mean did I sign a contract or write a receipt? No.” There was nothing defensive in her body language, but there was an edge of sarcasm in her voice. If anything she looked . . . angry. “Talk to the insurance company. They were involved in this.”
“I already have talked to them. They didn’t say anything about some plan to test the security system.”
It was impossible to miss the surprise that flashed across Rena’s face. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again she focused totally on Marcus. “Then check Margo’s bank accounts or her credit cards. She transferred ten thousand dollars to an account in Turks and Caicos just after one a.m. Thursday morning.”
“Do you have a routing number?” Marcus asked.
“If it comes to that,” Rena said. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I didn’t kill Margo. You must have her cell phone. There should be a text from Doyle’s Art Supplies telling her her order isn’t ready. That’s me letting her know there was a problem. She sent a text back saying she’d call to change her order. But she didn’t call. I was at Eric’s Place for about an hour. The waiter was flirting. He’ll remember me.”
“You were flirting with Larry Taylor to find out how the security system worked,” I said. “You were trying to figure out how to disable it.”
Rena looked away for a moment. “I’m sorry about Larry. He’s a nice guy. And, no, he didn’t do anything to compromise the library’s security, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Marcus glanced over at the main doors. “You couldn’t have tampered with the keypad. It’s set up to call the police if there’s a security breach.”
For a long moment Rena just looked at him. Then she shrugged. “In theory it is possible to redirect the keypad, send it to a rogue cell phone network. Or so I’ve heard. But like I told you. The system was off. “
“You’ll need to come down to the police station,” Marcus said, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “And you really should find a lawyer. There’s still that fingerprint from Chicago you need to explain.”
I saw a hint of a smile cross Rena’s face. “I don’t think that’s going to be that big a problem,” she said. “I don’t think the alleged owner really wants to explain how she ended up with that painting in the first place.”
“Where’s the Weston drawing?” Marcus asked again.
Rena brushed her hair back impatiently from her face. “I didn’t take it. I told you. It wasn’t in the case.”
“You’re asking me to take a lot of things on faith, Ms. Adler,” Marcus said.
Rena actually smiled at him. “You know I didn’t take the drawing, Detective,” she repeated.
Marcus held up a hand. “Hang on a second,” he said. He frowned at Rena. “What do you mean, I know you didn’t take it?”
“I know the police have the drawing, Detective. I’m assuming you’re saying you don’t to throw whoever killed Margo off base.”
“We don’t have the drawing,” Marcus said, flatly.
Rena shook her head. “You mean all this time this building’s been closed and you still haven’t found it?”
“Wait a minute,” I said, pointing with one finger. “You think the Weston drawing is here? In the library?”
She looked from me to Marcus and back to me again. “It has to be. It was dotted, so there’s no way it can leave the building with the alarm system still in place. I assumed Margo put it somewhere for safekeeping.” She was looking at us both as though we were incredibly dense—which is how I felt. I had no idea what she was talking about and, judging from Marcus’s face, neither did he.
I looked blankly at Rena. “What do you mean the drawing was dotted?”
“I mean there was a computer chip—a very tiny computer chip—attached to the back of it,” she said. “If anyone tried to take it out of the building the chip would trigger the security system and—”
I shook my head. “No,” I interrupted. “We weren’t using that aspect of the system here. It was too expensive and both the museum board and the insurance company thought the risk of anything happening was small. That was Gavin’s recommendation as well.” I did see the irony in that.
Rena ran a hand over the cardboard encasing her painting. “Margo went over his head. She convinced the insurance company that the extra security was needed and there wasn’t much the board could do at the last minute. She wanted them to see that no matter what security procedures were in place, the artwork wasn’t safe.”
I rubbed the back of my neck with one hand. A knot of frustration made it feel as though a giant hand was squeezing the back of my head.
Marcus shook his head. “No, she didn’t. There was no extra security. No computer chips on the back of any of the artwork.”
Rena looked like someone had just punched her in the stomach. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would Margo tell me that?”