When we walked in, E.T. was rearranging the desks in the main room.
Nathan looked amused. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” E.T. told him, rolling a chair closer to the window. “The feng shui in here is all messed up. Believe me, Boss, once I get the harmony flowing again, you’ll feel the difference.”
“You knew the man was like this when you hired him,” I said, watching in amusement. “What can it hurt to jazz up the harmony in here?”
“Is Brock on his way to Minneapolis?” Nathan asked E.T.
“Yep, with the ledger,” E.T. said.
Nathan shook his head again at the feng shui and walked into his office. E.T. was oblivious to much except his project. I followed Nathan. He sat behind his desk with a heavy sigh.
“Can I borrow your car?”
Nathan stood up and reached in his pocket. “I have a lot of work to catch up on here. When will you be back?” he asked, tossing the keys to me.
Making a successful catch, I opened my mouth in exaggerated surprise. “You’re letting me go alone without a single word of caution or a list of instructions?”
He stood up and folded his arms across his chest. “The bad guys are behind bars, Rousseau is gone, and hey, you’re a big girl . . .”
“And I can take care of myself. Admit it. Come on . . . say it.”
“You can take care of yourself. Happy?”
“I’ll be even happier after I tie up this loose end.”
“And return my car!”
“You’re such a nag.”
***
I tried not looking too smug as I sat across from Dean Bostwick, but it was very difficult.
“I’m surprised to see you here. Isn’t your PI job all finished?” He leaned back in his chair and smiled at me. He was being very cordial, and I decided to play it the same way.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I was wondering if you got back the forensics report on Antoine’s walking stick?”
Bostwick looked sheepish. “Good catch on that. No, I don’t have it back yet, but Hank assured us it was the murder weapon. I think it’ll check out.”
“What about Antoine?”
“He may have left town, but if he hasn’t, I’ve put him on the no-fly list. But I’m thinking that he might be waiting until Pierce is released to settle up with him. Also, if he has the painting, he has to figure out how to get it out of the country. He can’t just waltz onto a plane holding a priceless painting under his arm.”
I laughed. “You got that right. And how’s Jackie?”
“She hasn’t quite come all the way back from around the bend, yet,” he admitted. “She did, however, confess to killing her brother, Leland, all those years ago.”
“She drowned her own brother?” I couldn’t believe it.
Bostwick nodded. “Seemed he was Daddy’s favorite.”
“Poor Jackie.”
“The woman’s a murderer, Katherine,” Bostwick said. “I have no sympathy for her. In fact, we’re reexamining the conditions under which Marshall Senior died. Who knows?”
“Wow! At least she can’t kill anyone else.”
“So did you just drop by to check up on the murder weapon?”
“No. I really stopped by to bring you a little . . . present, Dean.”
“It’s all in a day’s work. There’s no need to thank me for anything.”
“There’s a ledger I think you might be interested in.”
“What’s in it?”
“I think it’s a list of people who have illegally purchased stolen art from Stacey and Antoine Rousseau.”
His eyes popped and he looked like he’d just won the lottery. “How do you know? Where did you get this?”
“Oh, I can’t reveal my source, Dean.” I stood to leave.
“Where’s this book—you know, if you touched it, or moved it, it’ll be inadmissible.”
“I think if you send somebody to Stacey’s Minneapolis apartment tomorrow, they’ll find it in the kitchen, on a shelf with a bunch of cookbooks.”
“Katherine . . .”
I stopped at the door and turned to look at him, making my face as innocent as possible.
He threw his hands in the air and just said, “Thanks for the tip.”