But it wasn’t funny.
Not this time.
On the plus side, Wainwright seemed to be more focused on the details of that Tuesday’s early morning than how I’d been spending the afternoon. If he’d pressed a bit more, I would have been honest. I would have told him about the conversations at the museum, tracking down Angela. I might have even told him I stole her missing beau’s keys. But he didn’t ask. And that was fine. Because unlike the cops, I was taking the Collector’s warning seriously.
No LEO help.
I stood, gathered my shoulder bag, and walked to the door when Wainwright deemed our conversation complete.
“Oh, one last thing, Mr. Snow.”
Hand on the doorknob, I turned.
“Out of curiosity….” Wainwright looked up from his papers and clicked that dumb pen again. “What would Detective Winter’s siblings know about this investigation?”
I had no idea.
I couldn’t be sure how much an architect and CPA knew about Edward Drinker Cope and his mysterious, misplaced skull. Or why they’d even care. But they did have the personal relationship and motive angle to seriously consider. Maybe even greater motive than Dr. Thyne and Angela London, although in comparison, those two knew more about Cope and his involvement in the Bone Wars.
And yes,thisfact was most likely coincidence, but it was worth noting that both Marc and Ellen lived in Philadelphia, and that later in his life, Cope had lived and curated in Philadelphia.
I opened the door and said, “I’m not sure. But isn’t that why you’re the detective?”
“Stay in the city,” Wainwright responded.
“I know the routine.” I shut the door behind me, started down the hallway toward the elevators, and collided with an officer as I rounded the corner. “I’m sorry,” I proclaimed, stepping backward and pushing my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. “Bad eye—Rossi?”
Nico Rossi drew his thick eyebrows together and crossed his arms. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m on tour. 1PP was listed inOutmagazine as one of the Top Ten Must-See Attractions of New York.”
Rossi rolled his eyes.
“This isn’t your precinct,” I stated.
“I have a meeting with Major Cases,” he said, trying to make it sound more impressive than it actually was. And maybe that would have worked, if I hadn’t just concluded the same appointment.
“Oh, you mean the interview with Wainwright?”
Rossi narrowed his eyes.
“Second door down.”
“What did you tell him?”
Odd tone. Odder question.
“The truth.”
Was he concerned about how I might have painted his personality, knowing full well how desperate Rossi was for a promotion? But he didn’t matter. The truth had been, Rossi was an afterthought in this crime. And inconsequential to the timeline. I’d only mentioned his name to Wainwright once. Because as soon as Rossi had shown up, Calvin disappeared.
I guessed the egotistical prick had made this all about himself in his head. “You’re going to be arrested if you keep interfering,” Rossi said.
“I’m not interfering. In fact, the minute you arrived, nipping at the heels of your sergeant, you watched me get booted from the scene.”
Rossi broke the stare-down first. He purposefully shoved my shoulder as he rounded the corner, walking down the hall I’d come from. I didn’t move, but cast my eyes down and titled my head a bit in order to listen to his retreating footsteps. There was an itch between my shoulder blades. A prickle of discomfort. A sort of sixth sense warning that I was being watched.
Chapter Eleven
