Part 25 (1/2)

I sat back on my heels. The only other item of value in this apartment was the receipt Asquith's had given me when I turned over Kevin's book to Bram. I had left Max's plum-colored file in the top drawer of the desk. I spun around and opened the drawer.

Gone.

Also gone was the photocopy of the Fairbairn letter and the photos of the hand-colored botanical prints we'd found in Adam in Eden that I had downloaded off my camera and printed out. I had another copy of the letter, the one I'd brought to London, and the photos were on an Internet server, so I still had copies of everything.

But now so did someone else.

”You look like you've seen a ghost, Soph,” Tommy said.

”The paperwork for a rare and quite valuable book that belonged to Kevin Boyle is gone. The book itself is at Asquith's Auction House in Georgetown.”

”At least they didn't get the book,” he said. ”And you ought to call the police.”

”First I need to call Bram Asquith.” But he wasn't in, so I left a message that it was urgent he return my call as soon as possible.

Tommy left when the MPD officer arrived since there was nothing more he could do and he had cla.s.s. He told me he'd call later to find out how I was doing, and I made him swear he wouldn't tell Mom or Harry what happened.

The officer, a middle-aged Hispanic man, took my statement, including everything I'd learned in London about the value of the copy of Adam in Eden, the death of Alastair Innes, which I felt certain was related to Kevin's death, and being chased yesterday afternoon across the Millennium Bridge. He wrote it all down and said he'd be in touch with Officer Carroll, whom I'd never managed to call from London. He also said someone would be stopping by Asquith's.

Finally, he said, ”Do you have any idea who might have done this?”

I hesitated. ”I don't know, but I can tell you this. Edward Jaine told me yesterday when I met him in London that I'd regret it if I didn't give him those papers, the ones that were stolen. I left town on Sat.u.r.day evening, so whoever did this was here between Sat.u.r.day night and this morning. I don't think Mr. Jaine has figured out how to be in two places at once, but he does have a lot of people who work for him in a big office building downtown on Farragut Square.”

”Edward Jaine the rich guy? Computers, Internet stuff? That guy?”

I nodded, and he scratched the back of his head with his pen. ”Well, this ought to be interesting. I think we're done for now, but I might have more questions for you.”

After he left and while I was waiting for a usurious locksmith from Adams Morgan who agreed to make an emergency house call, I called Jack. He, too, was out, and I left a message.

I was reshelving books and cleaning up the mess the intruder had made when Jack phoned.

”Am I calling England?” he asked. ”Are you still in London?”

”Not since last night.” I told him about Chappy and returning to my apartment to discover the burglary.

”Thank G.o.d you weren't home when it happened,” he said. ”Especially since you're there all by yourself.”

”If I had been here, they wouldn't have gotten those papers, I'll tell you that,” I said with feeling. ”I know the combination to Nick's gun safe.”

”Whoa, there, Calamity Jane. Let's not even go down that road.”

”I think whoever broke in was looking for Kevin's book. They didn't find it so they took the paperwork from Asquith's instead. I'll bet Edward Jaine had something to do with it.”

”Your favorite person.”

”I had coffee, or watched him drink coffee, yesterday in London. He threatened me if I didn't turn the book over to him,” I said, and told Jack what I'd learned about its value. When I was done, I said, ”I think it's time I talk to Father Xavier about this. He needs to know what's going on.”

”I'll call Xavier,” he said. ”I'd like to go with you when you tell him. And, by the way, both guest rooms at the house are free. Might be a good idea for you to spend the night somewhere else since you seem to be attracting unsavory company lately. I'll even cook you dinner.”

”The house” was Gloria House, the Jesuit house of formation on Capitol Hill where Jack lived with several priests who taught at Georgetown Law School and about a dozen seminarians. I'd stayed there briefly after I moved back from London last summer.

”Thank you,” I said, ”I accept.”

”Great. I'll phone Xavier and call you right back.”

But when my phone rang five minutes later, it wasn't Jack. It was Bram Asquith and he sounded distraught.

”I don't know how to tell you this,” he said, ”but a woman came in here this morning with the original paperwork we prepared for you when we picked up the book from Max's gallery. Somehow she managed to convince one of our employees that you wanted your book returned and, of course, I hadn't said a word to a living soul here about how I came into possession of it. I'm so sorry, Sophie. The police are on their way and we have security cameras. We'll find who did this, and I promise you, we'll prosecute to the maximum extent possible.”

It took me a moment to realize what he meant. ”The book is gone? Someone just walked out with it?”

”I'm afraid so. My G.o.d, this sort of thing just doesn't happen to us. It was a complete, utter c.o.c.k-up. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. We'll get it back.”

I felt numb. Part of this was my fault. I should have put the papers in a secure location instead of leaving them in my desk. Maybe given them to Max to keep in his vault before I left for London.

”I . . . sure. You'll let me know if there's any news, won't you?”

”Of course. Sorry, I'd better go . . . there's a detective waiting outside to talk to me.” He still sounded stricken. ”If word of this gets out . . . good Lord. I'll be in touch as soon as I know anything.”

Jack called after that. ”Your line was busy. Xavier's invited us for drinks at the monastery at five o'clock.”

”Did you tell him what this was about?” I asked.

”I gave him a hint,” he said, adding in a grim voice, ”He can't wait to see us. Hey, are you okay? You sound, I don't know . . . sort of strangled.”

”Bram Asquith called. I'm afraid we have a little problem.”

20.

The public tributes to Kevin were still piled at the outside gate to the monastery when Jack and I pulled into the parking lot across the street shortly before five. Someone had culled the dead and badly wilted flowers-I remembered heaps of bouquets from the news stories-and what remained were mostly candles, plants, and letters to Kevin or photos of him sealed in plastic sleeves. Jack went down on one knee and blessed himself while I read some of the notes, many from the children of Brookland Elementary School who worked with him in the community garden.

When Jack stood up, he said, ”I still can't believe it.”

”I know.” I blinked hard and righted a candle that had fallen over. ”I'm dreading this, telling Xavier what happened.”

Jack put his arm around my shoulder, and we walked through the Rosary Portico along the colonnade to the rear of the monastery and the friars' residence. Just before the entrance to the monastery was a small herb garden, two plots on either side of the walk with white marble markers for culinary, household, medicinal, and biblical herbs. In the medicinal garden I saw what I was looking for: a small plant marker for Hyssopus officinalis.

”It'll be okay,” Jack was saying. ”Don't worry.”

I took a deep breath, and we went inside the friary. Jack gave our names to a security guard who made a phone call. ”Father will be with you in a moment. Please have a seat.”

Xavier entered the lobby five minutes later, dressed in baggy corduroys, a pale blue dress s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves rolled up, and sandals. Though his smile was pleasant as we followed him down a corridor to an elevator, something in his demeanor made me think we had interrupted something that still preoccupied him.

We took the elevator upstairs to the private living quarters and walked down another quiet corridor, this one with doors on either side, until we reached a staircase.

”I thought we'd have drinks downstairs in the loggia off the chapel. We'll have it to ourselves,” he said.