Read Online Restrike by Reba White Williams - Free Book Online

from someone inside Killington’s.”
    He raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t that information confidential?” His tone was neutral, but she sensed disapproval. Naturally he’d disapprove: he was a cop.
    “Yes, but that kind of information often gets out,” Coleman said.
    Mondelli made a note. “But it’s also often inaccurate, isn’t it? Is there anything else you can tell me about La Grange?”
    Why should she tell him anything? He’d made it clear that he thought she was wrong about Jimmy La Grange being the seller of the Homer. Arrogant know-it-all. He’d learn soon enough that she was right. She’d like to tell him to get lost, but maybe if she gave him a little more information, she’d learn something.
    “I mentioned his death to Simon Fanshawe-Davies—he bought the Homer for the Print Museum—and it seemed to make him angry. I couldn’t understand why. Maybe you can explain?”
    “Yes, the police have talked to Mr. Fanshawe-Davies,” Mondelli said, capping his pen and standing up. “I don’t think I need trouble you any further, Ms. Greene.”
    Coleman scowled. Not only had he ignored her question, he hadn’t the slightest interest in what she thought. “But you don’t believe there’s an art link to La Grange’s death?”
    He looked down at her. “There’s no evidence of an art motive or connection, and lots of indications that his death was something else. I gather you disagree?”
    She stood as tall as she could, but he still dwarfed her. This guy was not only a hulk, he was as thick as a plank. “I certainly do, but I can see you wouldn’t be interested. This is the first time I’ve ever had dealings with the New York City Police Department, and I have to tell you, I’m not impressed.”
    His face remained impassive. “I’m sorry to hear that. Thanks for your time.”
    She walked him to the reception room, but only to make sure he left. First Simon, now this guy. The case was crawling with creeps.
    Back in her office, she considered what she should do next. Before talking to Mondelli, she had assumed that when the police learned about Jimmy and the Homer, they’d investigate the connectio, and figure out that there was more going on than the sordid story they’d decided to believe. She’d planned to learn whatever they turned up from Clancy, and pass it on to Chick. But it sounded as if the police were going to bury the art part of La Grange’s story.
    That was a problem. She couldn’t publish an article telling readers that Jimmy La Grange, seller of the Homer, newly rich by about half a million dollars, was coincidentally killed almost at the same time he sold the print. Too many questions would remain unanswered. She’d look like an idiot. It was time to check in with Clancy.
    “Clancy? I talked to Mondelli, the art cop. He seems sure La Grange’s death isn’t art-related. He’s sticking with the cop theory about the sex thing.”
    “He’ll have to reconsider. Not only was Jimmy La Grange the seller of the Homer, he was also the seller of The Midget. ”
    Coleman sat up straight, her eyes wide. “Wow, are you serious? How’d you find out?”
    Clancy laughed. “You’re not the only one with contacts. I got it from someone who works at Grendle’s. What did you think of Mondelli?”
    “Not much. A lot of muscle and a closed mind.”
    “Don’t underestimate him—he’s plenty smart—but so far, the police haven’t found any evidence of an art link to La Grange’s death, except what you and I’ve turned up. They have lots of physical evidence from La Grange’s apartment of what happened. When they pick up the guys who were there, they can nail ’em easily. As far as they’re concerned, even if we’re right, Jimmy somehow found the money—maybe borrowed it—to buy those two prints, and that’s the end of it. His death was something else entirely.”
    “But Clancy, there’s no way that poor obscure little dealer could have ‘found’ or ‘borrowed’ the