Murder at the Library of Congress - Margaret Truman [98]
Their drinks were delivered. She raised her glass: “Oogy wawa!”
Mac laughed. “What’s that?”
“Zulu for ‘cheers.’ Learned it the last time I was in Africa.”
“I’ll try to remember it next time I go on a binge there.”
“Impresses the natives, knowing their language. Sure there’s nothing new on this end about the murder?”
“I’m sure, but tell me about your success in L.A.”
“Okay, I will. No, I’ll do even better than that. I’m sitting here with one of D.C.’s top criminal attorneys. Let me—”
“Former criminal attorney.”
“But still itching to get back in the saddle. Am I right?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter. Go on. I’m listening.”
“Pretend you’re back in court, in this case defending someone like David Driscoll.”
“All right.”
“And pretend I’m your chief investigator. Okay, here’s what I’ve learned from impeccable sources. David Driscoll hires a two-bit hustler in Miami to break in and steal a painting from a small museum of sorts, Casa de Seville. The artist was named Fernando Reyes, a hack, I’m told. While this petty thief—his name was Warren Munsch—does the deed, a security guard at the museum is shot and killed. A part-time maintenance worker at the museum left a skylight open for Munsch and his cronies, two of them, to gain access to the museum. The Miami police pick up the maintenance worker, who turned in Munsch’s two accomplices. They, in turn, ratted on Mr. Munsch.”
She checked Mac for a reaction.
“I’m with you so far.”
She pressed on. “Munsch took the Reyes painting to Los Angeles and delivered it to one of Driscoll’s gofers, a so-called actor named Conrad Syms. Syms then took the painting to an art restorer named Widlitz, Abraham Widlitz.”
“To have it restored?” Mac asked.
“No, to see whether there was something hidden behind it.”
“Such as?”
“Such as a map.”
“By Señor de Las Casas?”
“Exactly. I just got that information yesterday from my source.”
“Was there a map?”
“No. Mr. Widlitz was questioned extensively by the L.A. police. Nothing behind the painting except crude preliminary pencil sketches by the artist.”
Mac held up his hand, said, “Driscoll went through all this and came up empty?”
“Yup.”
Mac’s hand went up again. “You’re sure that David Driscoll was behind this?”
“Absolutely sure.”
“Doesn’t play for me, Lucianne. A man of Driscoll’s wealth and stature doesn’t go out and hire a two-bit Miami thug to steal a two-bit painting.”
“Not directly. Leaves plenty of layers between him and those who dirty their hands. Mr. Syms, aspiring movie star, tells the police that he acted on Driscoll’s behalf, and Widlitz confirms the painting came from Driscoll. Pretty strong evidence against your client?”
“I’ve dealt with worse.”
“Okay, now in our little role-playing exercise, I’m now the prosecutor. Here’s the scenario I come up with. It’s been established that Driscoll was paying Michele Paul on occasion lots of money for Paul’s research findings. This titan of industry and patron of the arts uses Paul’s research over the years to identify and uncover rare books and manuscripts, which he generously donates to the Library of Congress. This makes him a big man in the eyes of those whose approval he seeks, people like Dr. Broadhurst and others of that genteel, academic ilk. Making money is fine, but it doesn’t buy you the cultured status you yearn for.”
“Fair enough. What are you as the prosecutor going to do, charge my client as an accessory to the Miami security guard killing?”
“Yes, but I’m not stopping at that.”
“What other charges do I have to defend? Lay it all out, Ms. Prosecutor. Remember, we have disclosure laws.”
“I wouldn’t think of withholding anything from a lawyer of your stature, Mr. Smith. After years of coming up with interesting items to donate to the library, Driscoll decides to go after the really big one, the Las Casas diaries and map, if they even exist. Michele Paul tells Driscoll he can help him locate the diaries and map, and Driscoll sends Paul a big check. Paul tells Driscoll the map may be behind this second-rate painting