The Monet Murders (The Art of Murder 2)

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Karan said, “That sounds promising, but.”

But. There was always a but. Jason waited.

“I don’t have to remind you, you’ve got a case load as tall as your desk. You want to think about how to prioritize your time and resources. Just because we don’t nail F-D this time around, doesn’t mean they get away for good. We’ll get them eventually.”

“I know,” Jason said. “I understand.”

“I know it’s disappointing.” Karan’s sympathy was genuine. “You’ve put a lot of time and effort into this one. But I’ve been doing this a long time, and I see all the signs of a case that’s collapsing in on itself. Not for any lack of effort on your part. Sometimes the stars don’t align.”

“Right. Okay.”

He toyed with the thought of bringing up the Paris Havemeyer missing person case, but he already knew what Karan’s response would be. Too thin. Not enough to go on. Not when resources were so limited. Even if she did decide the Havemeyer case should be followed up on, she’d hand it off to Violent Crimes.

He was disappointed, but he understood her reservations. Despite the very dramatic events of the past days, he really wasn’t one hell of a whole lot ahead of where he’d been on Monday when he’d first spotted that fake hanging in Shepherd Durrand’s office. Nothing illegal there. It wasn’t like Shepherd had tried to sell him the fake.

In fact, aside from the cursory interview with Barnaby, which had gone pretty much as he’d imagined, everything he had learned on Camden Island seemed to dovetail with the BAU’s investigation rather than his own.

He spoke with Karan for a few minutes more then began to weed through his email. He hadn’t missed that gentle hint about his caseload, and it was true that his other investigations had suffered this week. All the same, when he came to Shipka’s email he stopped to read through his notes on the Havemeyer case.

Shipka had been a good reporter. He kept detailed records of his interviews, and his notes were thorough. It looked like he had tried on several occasions to talk to Donald Kerk,

but Kerk had insisted there was no story to tell. He knew nothing about what had happened to Paris Havemeyer, and declined to speculate.

Not totally surprising, given that Kerk had remained friends with the Durrands.

Rodney Berguan had simply refused to talk to Shipka.

After doing a little digging, Jason suspected one reason Berguan might have chosen to keep quiet was that he now lived in Watertown, New York. Right in the Durrands’ backyard, as it were.

Jason considered that piece of information.

Over twenty-seven thousand people lived in Watertown, so there was no reason Rodney Berguan shouldn’t. Presumably, he wasn’t living in fear of the Durrand brothers if he’d chosen to move within a stone’s throw of their family estate. It was interesting—potentially—that Berguan had refused to speak to Shipka rather than simply do as Kerk had and insist he knew nothing. But not everyone loved the press. Maybe Shipka had rubbed him the wrong way. It was hard to know without talking to Berguan.

Talking to Berguan.

Well, why not? Maybe Berguan really didn’t have anything to say, in which case he could say so to the FBI. Right?

Jason was searching for contact information on Berguan—his phone number was unlisted—when Jonnie rang.

“Hey! I heard about what happened in New York. How are you doing?” Jonnie Gould had the professional misfortune of being blessed with Malibu Barbie prettiness. When she had been partnered with Adam Darling, they had been nicknamed Barbie and Ken. But though Jonnie looked like a dumb beach bunny, she was a sharp and savvy agent—as well as being one of the nicest people Jason had ever met. He’d been sorry when she retired after her marriage to another agent—and sorrier when Sam had recruited her.

“I’m fine. How are you? How’s Adam?”

“I’m tired. Looking forward to going home. I don’t know how the hell Kennedy does it. He hasn’t had a sick day in his entire career with the Bureau.”

“He’s a machine.” Jason wasn’t sure he was kidding.

“Adam’s already on his way back to LA, I think. He’ll be on sick leave for a few days, if he’s got any sense. Kennedy’s offered him a spot on the squad.”

“You’ll get to work together again.”

“Yeah.” Jonnie sounded doubtful. “I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s really what he wants.”

“He sure as hell can’t want to stay on morgue patrol.”

“That’s all over. He’ll get a gold star out of this one.” “Gold star” being Bu-ease for a formal commendation. The pathway to promotion. “He met a guy up here.”