Henry shot Mike a quick look. This wasn’t going as he expected.
The captain stood up again and looked out of the window. “Mickey went out the next day, figured out who the guy was, basically solved the case, and then gave me a call. I got the collar and restored my honor. Mickey never told anyone it was him. He never even mentioned it to me afterward. When I tried to thank him, he waved me off.”
Henry said,“He always looked out for me; I am not surprised he helped out. He just did stuff like that. It’s who he was.”
The captain turned back from the window. “I want to be out there with you two, hunting the bastard down, but I can’t. I got to do it by the book. I got the entire precinct looking for this bum, as if he ran over one of our own…which…I guess he did. The problem is we got nothing but a few paint scratches. Then my man here, who you commandeered, shows up with a list of names, and a few hours later, one of them is dead.”
Henry saw what was coming, the accusation, and he was ready. “Captain, I didn’t—”
“Don’t be stupid, or think I am. Mickey taught you better than that. I know you didn’t do it. What I don’t know is how Mr. Brown and Mickey are connected. I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit about ‘not knowing anything’ or—”
“Captain,” Henry opened his notebook, “let me bring you up to speed.” He tore out the two pages which he hadn’t decoded. Sliding them across the desk, he said, “I copied these from Mickey’s notebook, which I lifted off the body.” Henry paused for yelling.
The captain said, “Go on.”
“Mickey loved secret codes and took lots of notes. The problem is he had a fantastic memory and rarely needed to look at the notes again. This meant, he could write in code, and it could be extremely strange and bizarre, because he didn’t fear forgetting how to crack it again. I haven’t determined who his client was, not even close. I broke the code for the list of names, but still don't have a clue about these other two pages.”
“If we knew who the client was, we could find out what was going on,.” Mike added, and the captain nodded in agreement.
“I don’t know if the client name is on the list, though I don’t think it was Mr. Brown, as I spoke with him.”
“You did? When?”
“Two days ago, at his office. Mickey had been trying to get in touch with Mr. Brown. He didn’t know why. I was able to figure one thing out: this whole thing revolves around some big underground art auction.” Henry left out the details about the Eye of God, as he wasn’t ready to lay all his cards on the table, but he showed most of them.
The captain sent the two pages to be looked at by a couple of detectives. Henry didn’t mind; he had the originals. The phone rang, and the captain told them to hold his calls. Henry laid out everything he had done since they told him Mickey was dead. Well, everything but his time with Katarina. The captain never said a word when Henry mentioned breaking into Mickey’s place. He never yelled or threatened. He just listened. When Henry was done, the captain gave him a long look.
“You remind me of Mickey. He finds a thread, pulls it, and sees what unravels. I’ll have somebody look into these three lads in leather. You may not have all the answers, but it seems you have been asking some of the right questions.” He started pacing again. “If Mickey died because of some snooty art sale…”
Henry and Mike sensed the meeting was over. The captain was going to have his men focus on the Brown murder and run down all his known acquaintances. They would try to dig up something on this underground art ring. Henry and Mike shook the captain’s hand and agreed to share any new leads.
Henry and Mike shared a cab back to the office. “That didn’t go how I expected,” Mike said as the cab pulled away.
“I know. It was strange. You said he was fuming.”
“He was, but then he starts into his story, and I guess something changed for the captain.”
Henry and Mike sat in silence for the rest of the ride. They hadn't noticed the cab behind them or the man who was now tasked with recording Henry’s every move. He was remarkably adept at being a shadow.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The door was answered by a woman with a thick accent. She didn't say much beyond hello. Dr. Schaeffer was waiting in his library and greeted Henry warmly.
"I am pleased that you accepted our offer. I am sure your help will be invaluable. May I offer you a drink?"
"No thanks, Doctor, but a glass of water would be nice."
Dr. Schaeffer poured a glass from the pitcher at the bar while motioning for Henry to take a seat. "Before I continue with the story of the Eye of God, or more aptly, the legend of it, let me outline the details of the job."