Mr. Brown's secretary was a stunning brunette. She politely asked Henry to take a seat and then informed Mr. Brown that he was waiting. A few minutes later the office door opened, and Mr. Brown, wearing a different brown suit, invited Henry in and offered him a chair.
"Mr. Wood, how may I help you today?"
"I don't want to take a lot of your time; I know you are busy. When we met the other day, I was unprepared, and for that, I am sorry." Henry had decided on the ride over to come clean about Mickey being dead.
"I’m happy to help and I do appreciate your being brief, as I have a meeting in about ten minutes."
"I'll get to the point, then. I don't know why Mickey wanted to talk to you, not completely. He was killed yesterday, and I am not sure it was an accident. I used to work for him, and he means a lot to me, so I was in his office looking for something which might help me find his killer." Henry paused when the secretary popped her head in and reminded Mr. Brown of his meeting.
"I’m sorry to hear it. Were you able to figure out why he wanted to see me?"
"I found some notes…it appears he was working on a case involving art. I was wondering if you might recognize any of these names." Henry took out his notebook.
"I might, as I do know most of the best collectors in New York. I am quite proud of my own collection."
Henry wasn't sure why he didn't read the list in order, but he didn't. Mr. Brown's reaction to the first two names was a simple shrug and a shake of the head. "I don't have a first name, but it seems there is a Dr. Schaefer," Henry said.
"Yes, he is a well known collector. I have seen him at gallery openings, though I couldn't say that I know him. We have even gone after a few of the same items at Sotheby's."
"Did you win the bids?"
"I have won some, but regardless of whether I win or lose, I always suspect that he has gotten the better of me. I don't like to admit it, but he has a sharp eye."
"What about the name Andre Garneau?"
The moment that Mr. Brown heard the name, he sat up in his chair. "He is a pig! That bastard wouldn't know a Rodin from a rodent. Nobody knows where his money comes from, but if I were to guess, I would say he has stolen it. He doesn't love art – he loves attention. His appetite for art is almost as great as his appetite for food. I would not call him a collector. He is more of a hoarder."
Henry noted the strong reaction and the comments. He read the other names, but Mr. Brown didn't seem to know any of the last few.
"I have just one more question,” Henry said, “are you familiar with an object called the ‘Antikythera Mechanism'?"
Mr. Brown was motionless, unnaturally so, for the briefest of moments. His eyes didn't blink, but Henry saw his pupils change.
"No, I can't say I am familiar with it. Doesn't really sound like my cup of tea, some antique machine… no not at all. I am interested in traditional art, paintings, sometimes sculptures, but never something so pedestrian. I haven't heard of it at all. What is it?"
The length of the answer was as telling as the pupils. Henry stood up and thanked Mr. Brown.
Chapter Twenty-One
Damn, Henry thought. Another person was waiting at his door while he was out. When he got closer, the collar made it even worse. Henry wasn't a religious man, but he respected those who were, and believed that they deserved to be treated well. I really need a secretary.
"Father, I am so sorry to have kept you waiting," Henry said as he unlocked the door.
"No matter, my son, a wee bit of time for quiet reflection is always appreciated."
Henry nodded and led the father in to the outer office. "May I take your coat?"
"Thank you."
Henry hung the priest's coat on the coat tree, then added his beside it. He led him into his office and asked, "Would you like a cup of coffee, Father?"
"No, that is quite alright."
"How may I help you?"
"I should probably begin by introducing myself. I am Father Patrick."
"Pleased to meet you, Father Patrick," Henry said, shaking his hand.
"I am with Saint Peter's over on Barclay. I heard about the loss of your friend, Michael Thomas Moore. I am deeply sorry for your loss. You have my condolences. I didn't know him well..." (he lied, as he didn't know him at all) "...but he was a good man. Is there anything I can do for you in this hour of need?"
Henry was a little surprised to be hearing from a priest about Mickey, as his friend had never been religious either. Of course, he knew Mickey was Catholic. Henry remembered that Mickey would attend mass on the major holidays and two or three times a year, when he was feeling extra full of sin, but it still seemed strange to have the priest calling. Henry couldn't recall Mickey ever mentioning St. Peter's, or any church for that matter, but the father seemed sincere.