Always a Thief - Kay Hooper [39]
“Then I'll wait for you in the lobby.”
It wasn't until they parted company in one of the corridors, Quinn headed for the lobby, and Morgan toward the basement, that she allowed herself to smile, if a bit wryly. Her annoying thief didn't seem all that dismayed by her public rejection and cool attitude.
Dammit.
Once in the cavernous basement of the huge museum, Morgan had to ask one of the guards she saw to tell her where the others were. Even with directions it took her several minutes to reach the central storage room and another few to wind her way through the maze of crates and shelves before she located Max, Wolfe, and the two police inspectors.
“What's up?” she asked Max.
It was Wolfe who answered, his tone grim. “We found a little token, apparently from the killer of that unidentified woman.”
“We don't know that,” Keane Tyler objected. “The forensics team isn't here yet, Wolfe.”
“And I'll bet my reputation they'll find that the blood is hers and the knife is the murder weapon.”
“Blood? Knife?” Morgan looked again to Max.
He pointed to a rather roughly carved marble statue a few feet away, and Morgan studied it warily. It was in a line of several life-size statues, all down here in storage because they were damaged or had been rotated out of exhibit to make way for other displays. The indicated figure dated from the Middle Ages and depicted a warrior.
Morgan took a couple of steps toward the statue and looked more closely. The figure's raised fist, she realized, had once held a marble knife or dagger that had at some point been broken off or removed. Now it held a dully gleaming hammered-brass hunting knife with a carved wooden handle.
The knife was stained a rusty brown for more than half its length.
“Jesus,” Morgan said. She turned back to the others. “What's the point? I mean, you don't think she was killed down here, do you?”
“No signs so far,” Keane said, adding disgustedly, “but now, of course, we'll have to search the entire goddamned building, at least on this level, for forensic evidence. No more wandering around with flashlights; this time we get serious.” He stared around at the confusion of crates and shelves. “Everything dusty as hell, packed away God only knows how long. And this is just the central storage room; Wolfe tells me there are dozens of rooms nearly as large as this one, all of them crammed with more shit like this.”
“Thirty-two rooms, according to the plans.” Morgan was frowning. “And that doesn't count what's probably miles of corridor. So either he killed her down here, or else he's trying to make you waste time looking to find out if he killed her down here?”
Wolfe said, “If he killed her down here—whenever he got down here—it had to be before the new security system went on-line.” He was staring at Keane.
The inspector hesitated, then said, “She could have been killed weeks ago. The M.E. believes the body was refrigerated almost to the point of being frozen.”
“So he could have planted the knife weeks ago,” Max said. “Got down here long before there was decent electronic security protecting this area.”
“At least we can hope it was that long ago,” Wolfe muttered.
“But why?” Morgan shook her head. “Just so you'd have to search the place now? That doesn't make sense. Pointing the investigation in this direction, so specifically—why?”
“Trying to divert our attention,” Wolfe said. “Keep us and the police from looking wherever it is we need to be looking.”
“Or make us look so hard we don't see the forest for the trees,” Gillian suggested.
Keane looked once more at the forest of storage surrounding them and sighed. “Both viable theories.”
Morgan said, “Well, all I can contribute to the investigation is the fact that he had to have time down here, and he had to have at least some equipment.”
“Why?” Keane asked.
“Because drilling a round hole through marble takes time and a drill,” Morgan replied. “And cutting marble takes a saw or chisel. Guys, I know that piece, and the knife it originally held was part of the fist, carved from the same slab of marble.