“Uh-huh.”
“Next time you see him, ask if he wants to be a donor to a nonprofit museum.” Aubrey abruptly sat up and yanked his cell from his jeans pocket. “Before I forget.” He swiped on the screen, passed it to me, then took the SUV out of Park and eased into downtown traffic in order to hook around East Fifth and head uptown on Third Avenue.
I retrieved my magnifying glass from the bag on my lap and studied the picture he’d pulled up on his phone. “What am I looking at?”
“I found the original lot listing for the spiritoscope I saw at auction. It was at Sotheby’s.”
“Why does this look like a webpage?”
“It’s a screenshot, Seb. I used the Wayback Machine.”
“I don’t know what that means. Can I click it?”
Aubrey chuckled. “No. But you’ve got the original listing now, so you can call Sotheby’s yourself and reference the lot number. I’m sure the winner’s information is still on file, although I don’t imagine they’d freely give it to you.”
“They don’t have to.” I took out my own cell and called Calvin.
“What’s going on with you and this spiritoscope, anyway?”
“I’m solving a murder—hey, it’s me.”
“Hey, baby,” Calvin answered. “Tell me you got something on the Tiffany angle, because I’m getting screwed left and right with Sinclair.”
“His alibies checked out?”
“Both the colleague and supervisor confirm Sinclair’s stories for the timing of Sandra Habel and Marie Yang’s deaths. We even have him on camera with his buddy at the bar on Monday night. Now, he still doesn’t have an alibi for Brad—”
“I don’t think it’s Sinclair,” I interjected.
“You did last night.”
“Youdidn’t.”
“No, and I still don’t. But I do prefer knowing why my gut says something’s still off about him.”
“I think you’re picking up on his closeted-cop-groupie vibes,” I answered. “And I think Sinclair would be willing to go to great lengths to take a spin on someone’s nightstick. But I’m pretty convinced now that he didn’t kill these people.”
Calvin was quiet for a moment. I heard a door close and the ambience of the precinct grow silent over the line. He must have moved into his office or an empty interview room. He said, with a touch of weariness, “I have no prints at any of the scenes, no surveillance to speak of, and no suspects. This case is turning out to be a loser.”
“Maybe not. Remember that I told you Aubrey had seen the spiritoscope at auction? Well, he found the original listing.”
“You’re welcome,” Aubrey called loudly. “And for the record, I had no idea what Sebastian was up to when he asked for help.”
“Aubrey says hi,” I said to Calvin.
“I heard what he said.”
“Did you?Anyway… got a pen? I can give you the lot number. Sotheby’s would probably want a search warrant before they gave you the winner’s details, but as your official consultant and recognized industry professional, I will attest to any judge that this is the exact same spiritoscope as was found with Sandra.”
“You’re one hundred percent certain?”
“Hm-hm.” I wedged my phone against my shoulder and used my magnifying glass to study the picture a second time. “I’m looking at the photos they used for the listing, and it has the same exact wear marks on the wooden surface.” So I read the necessary information to Calvin before saying, “I’m taking care of a customer right now, but as soon as I get back to the Emporium, I’ll look into the flatware too.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
I said goodbye, pocketed my phone, and gave Aubrey back his.
“Official consultant?” he repeated curiously, tucking the cell between his legs.
