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“I suppose I should do that,” Irene said. “Originally I didn’t see any reason. We didn’t have the perfect marriage, and I thought he was just walking out on me.”
“And now?” Emerson asked.
“That’s what I still think.”
Emerson looked into the hole again. “What will you do with Saint Nicholas?”
“Throw him away. Just like all the others.”
“Were they all Saint Nicholas statues?”
“I’m not really up on my saints, but they all looked similar.”
“I’ve always be
en fond of Saint Nicholas,” Emerson said. “Do you mind if I take him?”
“Not at all,” Irene said. “Help yourself.”
Emerson retrieved the plaster statue, dusted it off, and tucked it under his arm. “Now I would like to see Günter’s study,” he said to Irene.
For a split second Irene looked like she wanted to get in her car and not stop driving until she reached California and was far away from Emerson.
“I suppose that would be all right,” she said, “but I’m not sure if you’ll find anything helpful. Günter didn’t spend much time there.”
Irene led the way into the house, taking them through a spacious kitchen. The counters were granite, the appliances were stainless and looked professional, the floor was wide-plank hand-hewn oak. The cupboards were faux antique, the breakfast nook was charming, and an empty vodka bottle and the remains of a Lean Cuisine frozen dinner had been stashed in the large sink.
“This is a great kitchen,” Riley said.
“Thank you,” Irene said. “I don’t do much cooking in it, but it’s pleasant in the morning when I eat my yogurt.” She set her gloves and hat on a sideboard and led Riley and Emerson down a short hall and up a flight of stairs. “The previous owner chose to create a home office over the garage. It’s very nicely done, but Günter rarely used it. From time to time I believe he would put documents in the safe.”
“Have you checked the safe since he disappeared?” Emerson asked her.
“No. I’m sure there’s nothing in it of interest to me. I keep my jewelry in the bedroom. Truth is, I don’t even know the combination. I believe our lawyer has the ability to open it should something happen to Günter.”
“It sounds as if you expect Günter to return,” Emerson said. “Have you heard from him?”
“No, I haven’t heard from him. One morning he left for work with his to-go cup of coffee and his briefcase, and he simply never returned.”
“You don’t seem especially worried,” Emerson said.
“I drink a lot,” Irene said. “And I smoke dope. It keeps me more or less happy.”
Irene opened the door at the top of the stairs, and everyone stepped into Günter’s home office. It was a room much like Günter’s office at Blane-Grunwald, all rich mahogany and plush upholstery. A few flies buzzed around in the semidarkness. A shaft of sunlight fell on the ornate partners desk through the gap in the heavy draperies. The walls were paneled and lined with bookshelves. The books were for the most part academic.
Irene opened the drapes. “I really should air this room. I can’t imagine how these flies got in here.”
A door chimed downstairs, and Irene looked at her watch. “That’s my housekeeper. I need to talk to her. And I’m meeting a friend for coffee in a few minutes. Will you be much longer?”
“Yes,” Emerson said. “Considerably longer.”
Riley thought Irene looked like she wanted to stick a fork in Emerson’s heart. And she didn’t blame her.
“Would you mind terribly letting yourself out?” Irene said, forcing a smile. “I really need to run.”
“No worries,” Emerson said, rifling through Günter’s file drawer, not looking at Irene. “We’re fine on our own.”
Riley settled into an oversized overstuffed chair and watched Emerson search through the room. After fifteen minutes she was tired of watching. She checked her cellphone for emails and surfed some news sites. At the thirty-minute mark she began sighing. Loudly. SIGH!
