Leverage in Death (In Death 47)

“How long after Angelo left?”

“Oh, a while. Closer to now than then. I don’t have clocks,” she said, eyes shining with tears. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

“I sort of heard them up there. You don’t really hear a lot, but a couple of times I thought they dropped something or stomped around. And then I heard the elevator coming down. Then I saw them carrying out some of Angelo’s paintings. It made me think about the opening. I tagged you right after, Astrid, about what to wear.”

“What time?” Eve snapped at Astrid.

“Was that the first time you tagged me, Lollie?”

“How many times did I?”

“Four.”

“The first time was when I saw Angelo leave. I guess maybe it was the third time. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Astrid rubbed Lollie’s shoulder. “I think that was about two-thirty or three. That’s my best guess. The first time was about eleven-thirty, so that would be when Angelo left. And the second was a little after one—because I had to take a break. And the third would have been after two-thirty, but I think before three. Because the fourth was just a few minutes before you came to the door, and I actually looked at the time. It was nearly five.”

“That’s helpful. Lollie, what else can you tell me, about the men or the van?”

“I wish I knew more. I don’t think they were old because they walked fast. I wanted them to—I just thought: Get out of my painting. The van was new, I think, or really clean. Shiny, and I didn’t want shiny.”

“Did it have windows on the sides?”

“No. Just that solid black, and it spoiled—”

“Anything written on the side?”

“Oh, like a company? No. Just black. I know that for sure.”

“How about the hats? What kind of hats?”

“Ooooh.” She gulped wine, closed her eyes. “I think earflaps? I think. I paint landscapes and cityscapes. If I paint people they’re just part of the scape—and not detailed. I look closer at things than people because I don’t paint people. But they weren’t old, and they had on black like the van. Sunshades, for certain. And I think earflap hats. Maybe gloves? I think maybe. I just didn’t look at them. They were in the way. And they were only in the painting for a few seconds each time.”

“I’m going to show you a picture. Tell me if you think this might be one of the men.” Eve brought up Markin’s ID shot, laid her thumb over the data.

Biting her lip, Lollie studied it. “I want to say yes because I want to help, but I just don’t know. I want to help. I modeled for Angelo. He paid me fair, and it helped me buy paints. I want to help. I’m so sorry.”

“You have helped, both of you.”

“We helped, Astrid.” Lollie turned her face into Astrid’s shoulder.

Eve left them, went back upstairs where Baxter and Trueheart worked with Peabody.

“The sweepers are heading in,” Peabody told her.

“We’ve got an estimated time frame. Richie left about eleven-thirty. The nine-one-one on the bombing came in at fourteen-forty-six. Best estimate for the killers walking out of here with some of Richie’s paintings is between fourteen-thirty and fifteen hundred.”

Baxter shook his head. “No way they tore up all these paintings, loaded up whatever they took in that amount of time—post bomb time. Fifteen minutes? They had to get in, get up, do all this, pack up paintings, get out.”

“That’s right. They had Denby wired, so they could watch him. Cut him loose, followed him or dumped him near the Salon, continued here. It’s just a few blocks. They were probably in here, packing up what they wanted when the bomb went off. Then they tore up the rest. No need to tear up the rest if Denby didn’t follow through. They’d still have a few more paintings, so that’s a win either way.”

“Security’s crap here,” Baxter considered. “Wouldn’t take much to get through it. Hop the elevator. Already packing material here, just use it, bust things up, cart things out. Transport?”

“Black panel van. Shiny. That’s all the wit’s got. Two men—in black—sunshades, earflap hats. It’s a bright, breezy day, so that’s not going to stand out. She didn’t get a good look, didn’t pay attention, but we’ve got a black van, the timing, and that’s more than nothing.”

“I’ll get uniforms to canvass,” Baxter said.