Curious Minds (6 page)

R
iley pulled the Mustang into Günter's parking space at Blane-Grunwald and cut the engine.

“What are we going to do with the gold?” she asked Emerson.

“We'll take it with us.”

“I'm not carrying that gold into the building.”

“No problem. I'll carry it. I'll put it in my rucksack.”

Emerson pulled the bar out of Riley's bag and dropped it into his rucksack.

“Good riddance,” Riley said.

They took the elevator to the seventeenth floor, walked the corridor to Maxine's office, and peeked inside. Empty. Riley stepped across the hall and asked a woman if she knew where they could find Maxine.

“At home,” the woman said. “She called in sick.”

Riley looked at Emerson. “Now what?”

“Now we visit her at her home.”

Riley got Maxine's address from Human Resources, they returned to the Mustang, and Riley plugged the address into the maps app on her iPhone.

“It looks like she's about fifteen minutes away,” Riley said.

She drove down Pennsylvania Avenue, turned right onto Thirteenth Street, and found herself in the gentrified neighborhood of Columbia Heights. The street was lined with expensive row houses built around the turn of the last century, but remodeled and refurbished and polished like antique jewelry.

“How can she afford a place like this on an executive assistant's salary?” Riley asked as they stepped out of the car.

“Maybe Günter helps her out,” Emerson said.

“You think?”

“You're speaking sarcastically as a way of agreeing with me, aren't you?”

“You think?”

“You did it again. I find that endearing.”

They walked up the stoop and rang the bell. The door opened and Maxine looked out at them. She wasn't dressed like somebody who was home sick. She was wearing rugged workout clothes and a yellow and gray jacket with a drawstring at the waist.

“Goodness,” Maxine said. “This is a surprise. Is something wrong?”

Emerson pulled the gold bar out of his rucksack, and Maxine stared at it, dumbfounded.

“Did you leave this at Günter's house last night?” Emerson asked.

“Of course not,” Maxine said. “Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because I'm brilliant,” Emerson said. “Can we come in?”

M
axine led them into her living room but didn't invite them to sit.

“I hope you won't think me rude,” she said, “but I only have a few minutes. I was on my way out.”

The room was nicely furnished with a chunky pale gray sofa and two matching club chairs. The end tables were mahogany and the rug was a deep pile Tibetan.

“About the gold bar,” Emerson said.

“I don't know how you came to get that bar,” Maxine said, “but something bad might happen if you don't put it back. Does Irene know you have it?”

“She wasn't present when I discovered it,” Emerson said. “I would like to know how it got into the safe in the first place.”

“You guessed right. I put it there last night.”

“How did you manage it?” Riley asked.

“Günter has a sailboat tied up to the dock behind his house. I don't believe he's sailed it in years, but he loved the boat, and he would have his coffee there in the morning, and sometimes a cocktail in the evening. I knew he kept a spare key with a remote to turn the security system on and off in the cabin, so I went to the boat after dark, got the key, and waited until after midnight, when Irene would be too drunk to hear anything. When I saw the lights go out, I let myself into the house, went up to his office, opened the safe, and left the gold bar.”

“Why?” Emerson asked.

“Because that's what I was told to do.”

Maxine pulled a plain wooden box off a bookshelf, took another gold bar out of it, and placed it on the coffee table next to the one from Günter's safe. They were identical. Same “München” inscription, same half moon and crown. Same date and serial number.

“A few months ago, Günter heard he was getting a new responsibility—one he's wanted for a long time,” Maxine said. “I know Werner told you he wasn't, but Werner lies. He lies about everything.”

Riley thought there was a lot of anger in Maxine's voice when she talked about Werner's deceit. Most likely Maxine had some unpleasant personal experience with Werner and his lies. Or maybe she was just feeling protective of Günter.

“Günter was going to be put in charge of all the gold holdings at Blane-Grunwald,” Maxine said. “More specifically, the huge underground vault that's built into the Manhattan bedrock below the New York offices. The B&G vault is the biggest privately owned gold repository for central banks, institutions, exchange-traded funds, you name it. It's where all the largest investors store their gold.”

“Who was in charge of this prior to Günter?” Emerson asked.

“The senior Grunwald. After he died, the position was simply left open, but for whatever reason the board recently decided to name Günter as overseer. Anyway, Günter went to Manhattan to check it out. He met with Yvette Jaworski, an old friend of his at the New York office, and discussed things. When he came back, he was a changed man. Distant. Uncommunicative. I asked him what was wrong. He wouldn't talk about it.

“Then Yvette disappeared. He became more secretive after that. He would go away for long weekends. Even I didn't know where he went. Finally, he showed up here one night, after work. And he had these two gold bars. They're identical in every way. Down to the serial numbers.

“He told me to keep the one you brought with you, but if anything happened to him, I was to get my hands on the one in his home safe and swap it out. He said if it was found among his effects it would be bad for his wife, for his reputation. So I was supposed to switch them.

Emerson looked at the two gold bars. “One of these is counterfeit.”

“I've thought the same thing,” Maxine said.

“But which one?” Emerson asked.

Maxine paused and adjusted a wisp of hair. “I don't know,” she said. “And I don't care. I've done what he asked me to do. I can let it rest.”

Emerson leaned in closer to Maxine. “Did you know that the CIA has identified six primary physical signs of deception, including behavioral delay and grooming gestures? It's true. I read it in a book.”

A hint of a smile crossed Maxine's face. “Günter might have also mentioned the one I swapped out would be really, really bad for Werner's reputation.”

Emerson nodded and turned to Riley. “Three things cannot be long hidden. The sun, the moon, and the truth.”

“Did you read that in a book too?” Riley asked.

“It's attributed to Buddha.” Emerson paused. “Or maybe I heard it on an episode of MTV's
Real World.
”

“Do you mind if I take these gold bars?” Emerson asked Maxine.

“Why?”

“I want to saw them in half and see what's inside.”

Maxine snatched her gold bar from the coffee table. “No! Did Werner put you up to this? Tell him I'm hanging on to this until further notice!”

“I don't intend to tell Werner anything about this until my investigation is complete.”

“Well, I'm not giving up my gold bar,” Maxine said. “What's really, really bad for Werner could be really, really good for me.”

“Possibly,” Emerson said, taking the bar that was left on the table. “It's been a pleasure.”

“You should put it back,” Maxine said. “It belongs in the safe.”

“I'll take it under consideration,” Emerson said.

Riley followed Emerson down the sidewalk to where the Mustang was parked.

“She's upset,” Riley said.

“Indeed she is.”

“Well, so much for that question-and-answer session,” Riley said. “I'm voting for lunch next. There's a Five Guys on Irving Street. I could really use a bacon cheeseburger with Cajun fries. You ever try that?”

“No. And we're not going to lunch yet.”

“Why not?”

“We're waiting to see what Maxine Trowbridge does.”

“Can't we find out after lunch?”

“Rise above the hunger. I once went ten days without eating a thing.”

“Good for you. Me, I'm hypoglycemic. If I don't eat every three hours I get irritable. You wouldn't like me when I'm irritable.”

“I like you fine.”

“I'm not irritable yet.”

“You're not?” Emerson said with surprise.

“Very funny.”

“I wasn't trying to be funny,” Emerson said, examining the gold bar. He held it up for her to see. “What do you think? Real or fake?”

“I think she took the real one from the safe.”

“Then this is it,” he said, tapping the gold bar with his finger.

“What do you mean?”

“I switched them.”

“But we were looking at them the whole time.”

“I did it all the same.”

“I don't believe it.”

“It doesn't matter whether or not you believe it,” Emerson said. “It is so.”

“Well, it doesn't matter whether or not you say it's so. It didn't happen.”

“Why would I lie about such a thing?”

“Why, indeed.”

His mouth curved into a sly smile for a millisecond.

“And what's that?” Riley asked.

“What's what?”

“The smile.”

“I find you amusing.”

Two advanced degrees from Harvard and I've got a job amusing a man who steals gold bars, Riley thought.

“The advanced degrees were a waste of time,” Emerson said. “You didn't need them.”

“How did you know I was thinking about my degrees?”

“It was obvious.”

“You're a little scary,” Riley said.

“You're not the first person to express that opinion.”

The front door to Maxine's townhouse opened, Maxine stepped out, and closed and locked the door behind her. She was still dressed in her workout clothes, wearing Oakley sunglasses and carrying a medium-sized duffel bag. She walked down the sidewalk to a gray Nissan Maxima parked close to the corner, slung her gear in the back, got in, and pulled out.

“Follow that car,” Emerson said.

Riley pulled out, hoping Maxine was going somewhere for lunch. She knew that “irritable” was just around the corner. She kept a car between her and Maxine, just in case Maxine looked in her mirror. At least the muscle car Riley was driving was a conservative highland green, not flaming red. Still, a classic Mustang Fastback wasn't the most inconspicuous car on the road.

Maxine turned right on K Street just as the light was changing. Riley had to choose between speeding through the red light and stopping. She stopped. Her father, the sheriff, would have been pleased.

“What do I do now?” she asked Emerson.

“About what?”

“I lost her.”

“Figure out where she's going.”

“Well, down K Street. Across the Key Bridge.”

“She was wearing an immersion jacket.”

“And?”

“She was expecting to get wet,” Emerson said.

“Car wash?”

“That's a joke, correct?”

“Criminy!”
Riley said. “You are
so
annoying.”

“Yes, but a woman once told me I have excellent eyelashes. Have you noticed?”

Riley had been ready to take a right onto Key Bridge, but she followed a hunch at the last moment and turned left onto Canal Road and drove along the river, past Georgetown University. Soon the city dwindled away. Trees on her right, the C&O Canal on her left. They could have been out in the country.

She'd been driving for a few minutes when she caught a glimpse of Maxine's Nissan just as it veered off to the left. She maneuvered over to the left lane and took a turnoff by a sign reading
FLETCHER'S COVE.
Passing a white stone house that looked like it had been old during the Civil War, Riley spotted the Nissan driving down a little road into an old, dark, narrow tunnel carved underneath the canal. She turned to follow.