“Day before yesterday Mrs. Starr and her son went out of town.”
“That’s right, they went to Dr. Van Peldt’s beach cottage in Westport. In Connecticut.”
“You didn’t leave with them. Did you meet them up there, or possibly at Grand Central?”
Agda shook no. “I did not go with them.”
“What did you do?”
“I stayed the night with a friend at NYU.”
Heat jotted “NYU” in her notebook. “Is that unusual? I mean, if Mrs. Starr is knocking on your door at night with child care issues, I’m betting she takes you along on her out-of-town trips.”
“This is true. Usually, I go on vacations and trips so she can enjoy herself and not be bothered with her son.”
“But not that day.” Nikki got to what was nagging her. “Was there a reason she didn’t want you to be with her?” The detective eyed her keenly and continued, “Like some reason Mrs. Starr didn’t want you around?”
“No, I only stayed behind so I could handle the piano delivery. She wanted Matty to get off the computer and get some culture, so she bought him a grand piano. It is gorgeous. When they took it out of the crate I almost fainted. Must have cost a fortune.”
Grief takes many forms, thought Nikki. “Tell me about your relationship with Matthew Starr.”
“Oh, much what you would expect. He likes me but calls me names when I tell him to go to bed or to turn off The Suite Life of Zack and Cody for dinner.” She raised questioning eyebrows to Nikki. “You mean like that?”
Detective Heat made a mental note that she was not sitting across the table from the poet laureate of Sweden. “Thank you, now let me ask you about Matthew Starr, Sr. What kind of relationship did you have with him?”
“Oh, that was a very good one.”
“In what way?”
“Well, he was very kind to me. Mrs. Starr, she snaps her fingers and she’s all like, ‘Agda do this,’ or ‘Agda keep him quiet, I am having my yoga time.’ ”
“Agda? About Mr. Starr?”
“Mister was always sweet. He would comfort me after she yelled at me. Mr. Starr would give me some extra money and treat me to a dinner out on my night off. Or take me shopping for clothes or…See, he gave me this Swatch.”
“Was Mrs. Starr aware of this?”
“Oh, tvärtom, no. Matthew said to keep it only to us.”
Nikki was amazed by her guileless sharing, and decided to keep that ball rolling. “Was your relationship with Mr. Starr ever physical?”
“Of course.”
“To what extent?”
“He would rub my shoulders to comfort me after I got yelled at. Sometimes he would hug me or stroke my hair. It was very soothing. He was so gentle.”
“How old are you, Agda?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Did you and Matthew Starr ever sleep together?”
“You mean have sex? Skit nej! That would not be appropriate.”
There had obviously been some raucous laughter and jock snapping going on in the Observation Room during her interview with the nanny to the Starrs. It carried back to the bull pen when Roach and Rook followed her there.
“What’s your take on Agda?” asked Raley.
Rook considered and said, “She’s like Swedish furniture. Beautiful to look at but pieces missing.”
“My favorite part,” added Ochoa, “was hearing how this guy was basically horndogging her under his wife’s nose and she says she didn’t have sex with him because it would be inappropriate.”
“That’s called horndogus interruptus,” said Raley from over at the coffeepot. “I think Agda’s just one of the deals Matthew Starr never got a chance to close before he was killed.”
Rook turned to Nikki. “Hard to believe she’s from the same land that brought us the Nobel Prize. Did she tell you anything useful?”
“You never know until you know,” said Heat.
The theme from Ghostbusters by Ray Parker, Jr., started to play. “Rook, please tell me that’s not coming from your pants,” she said.
“Custom ringtone. Like it?” He held up his cell phone. The caller ID read “Casper.” “Ghostbusters, get it? Excuse me, Detective Heat, my source may have information related to this case.” Rook strode off to take his call with an air of smugness.
In less than a minute, he returned, still on the phone but stripped of arrogance. “But I was the one who introduced you to her…. Can’t you just tell me?” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine.” Rook extended his phone to Nikki. “He says he’ll only share this with you.”
“This is Nikki Heat.”
“A pleasure, Detective. First, assure me that Jameson Rook is in anguish.”
She looked at Rook, chewing his lower lip, straining to eavesdrop. “Quite.”
“Good. If ever anyone needed a swift dismount from a high horse, it is he.” The old man’s soft, smoky tone warmed her ear. Hearing Casper without seeing him isolated his voice and she heard David Bowie with notes of Michael Caine’s mellowness.
“To business,” he said. “After your visit, I burnt some midnight oil because I could tell time was pressing on you.”
“Never had a case where it wasn’t,” said the detective.
“And although you downplayed it, you do believe there is a murder connected to this art theft.”
“Yes, I downplayed it, and yes I believe it. Perhaps two murders.”
“A wonderful art appraiser, a fine woman who knew her business, was killed this week.”
Nikki jumped to her feet. “Do you know anything about that?”
“No, I only knew Barbara from occasional meetings years ago. But she was among the best. Let’s say knowing her death might be part of this only engages me more in your investigation.”
“Thanks for that. Please call me with anything you find out.”
“Detective, I have information right now. Trust me, I wouldn’t have wasted either of our time unless I could provide substance.”
Nikki flipped open her pad. “Has someone already tried to fence the paintings?”
“Yes and no,” answered Casper. “Someone did sell just one of the paintings, the Jacques-Louis David. But that sale took place two years ago.”
Nikki began to pace. “What? And you’re absolutely sure of this?”
There was a pause and a half before the dapper art thief replied. “My dear, think of what you know about me and consider if you truly require an answer to that question.”
“Point made,” said Nikki. “I’m not doubting you, I’m just confused. How can a painting be in Matthew Starr’s collection if it was sold two years ago?”
“Detective, you’re smart. How good are you at math?”
“Pretty good.”
“Then your answer is to do some.”
And then Casper hung up.
SEVENTEEN
The receptionist at Starr Real Estate Development popped back on and told Detective Heat that Paxton would be right with her. Nikki felt like she was straining at a leash. Even hearing Anita Baker on the hold music didn’t soothe her. It wasn’t the first time in her life she seemed to be moving at a different pace than the rest of the world. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time that day.
At last, a ring-through. “Hi, sorry about the wait. I’m buttoning up a lot of Matthew’s affairs.”
That could have so many meanings, she thought. “Last call, I promise.”
“It’s no bother, honest.” Then he laughed and said, “Although…”
“Although what?”
“I wonder if it would be easier if I just set up my office over there at your precinct.”
Nikki laughed, too. “You could. You have the better view, but we have nicer furniture. How sad is that?”
“I’ll stick with the view. So tell me how I can help you, Detective.”
“I was hoping you could look up the name of the company that insured Matthew’s art collection.”
“Sure thing.” He paused. “But you recall I told you he had me cancel that policy.”