Part 8
It was a photocopy of an insurance certificate issued three days earlier. The Saint-Aubry music box was valued at 480,000 Swiss francs. The beneficiary was not the Bright Winter Foundation.
It was Haldner Grand Holdings.
On the bottom, written in blue ink, were five words.
Ask who owns the replacement.
Mara photographed the page without touching it, called Jonas, and waited.
Theo came to stand beside her.
“Is that another bad thing?”
“Yes.”
“Does the box cost that much?”
“According to this paper.”
He counted the zeros.
“That’s more than our apartment.”
“Yes.”
“Can they make us pay?”
“No.”
“You said that fast.”
“Because I am certain.”
He glanced at the door. “Did the paper person record me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can we put a towel there?”
Mara took a bath towel from the bathroom and rolled it against the gap beneath the door.
It would not stop a camera.
It made him feel better.
That mattered.
Jonas arrived with an evidence officer. They photographed the page, tested it, and sealed it in a plastic sleeve.
“The document may be fabricated,” Jonas said.
“Of course.”
“The policy number is real. We are confirming the terms.”
“Who knew our room?”
“Half the hotel.”
“Helpful.”
Theo watched the evidence officer write the time on the bag.
“Does it go to a room with all the broken things?” he asked.
The officer looked at Jonas, unsure whether to answer.
“A storage room,” Jonas said.
“Are there broken bikes?”
“Probably not.”
“Then it’s not all the broken things.”
“No.”
Theo returned to his cereal.
Jonas waited until he was farther away. “The road may reopen this afternoon.”
“We are not leaving until we know the person who threatened us cannot follow.”
“You are making departure conditional on solving a crime.”
“I’m making it conditional on a safety assessment.”
“Sabine has offered an escort.”
“Sabine’s account erased video.”
“She did not necessarily erase it.”
“Then someone inside her system did.”
Jonas rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Your recording captured another voice.”
Mara said nothing.
He played a cleaned audio segment through an earpiece rather than the speaker.
Theo’s breathing filled the first seconds. Glasses clinked. A man spoke somewhere behind the recorder, quiet and hurried.
“You were supposed to take it out before doors opened.”
A second voice answered, “It wasn’t there.”
Then Adrian’s accusation cut across both.
Mara removed the earpiece.
“First voice?”
“Adrian.”
“Second?”
“Possibly the auction director, Peter Voss.”
“Adrian told someone to remove the box.”
“Or the pedestal, the lot card, a floral arrangement, a person. The antecedent is unclear.”
“The auction director claims the box was a replica.”
“Yes.”
“If Adrian knew it should be removed before the doors opened, he knew the wrong object was on display.”
“Possibly.”
“And ‘it wasn’t there’ means something expected inside the box was missing.”
“Possibly.”
“You enjoy that word.”
“It keeps people out of prison when investigators fall in love with a theory.”
Mara looked toward Theo.
He was pretending not to listen.
“Interview Adrian again.”
“We are.”
“With counsel?”
“His father’s counsel.”
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
Mara laughed once, quietly.
Jonas’s phone buzzed. He read the message.
“The climate vault is empty.”
“All of it?”
“No music box. No Sloan objects. The foundation’s inventory crates are present, but they contain hotel linens.”
Mara looked at the insurance page sealed in plastic.
“Replacement linens,” she said.
Jonas did not smile.
The road reopened shortly after noon.
Mara packed.
Theo sat on his suitcase to close it. He had stopped asking whether they were leaving and begun asking what time.
At twelve thirty, Sabine called.
“A vehicle is ready at the private entrance,” she said. “There will be no photographers.”
“How do you know?”
“We cleared the service court.”
“Who is driving?”
“One of my officers.”
“Name?”
“Marc Duret.”
“Employment history?”
Sabine paused. “I will send it.”
Theo looked at Mara.
“Are we getting in the car?”
“Yes.”
A knock sounded before Sabine’s message arrived.
Mara checked the peephole.
Adrian Haldner stood alone in the corridor. He had changed into a charcoal sweater and dark trousers. Without the tuxedo, he looked younger and less composed. A faint red mark remained on the center of his chest, though Mara knew it could not be from the recording light.
She did not open the door.
“What do you want?”
His voice came through the wood. “To speak without six people recording me.”
“You have a phone.”
“My phone is with the police.”
“Use your lawyer’s.”
“My lawyer works for my father.”
Theo came near but stayed out of the peephole’s view.
Adrian lowered his voice. “The box was not supposed to be in the conservatory.”
“I heard you say that.”
Silence.
He had not known the recorder captured the earlier remark.
“To whom were you speaking?” Mara asked.
“Peter.”
“The auction director.”
“Yes.”
“What was he supposed to remove?”
“The box.”
“Why?”
“Open the door.”
“No.”
He breathed against the other side.
“My father told me it was an insurance replica. He said the original had been delayed in Geneva. The replica was meant for the catalog display in the private preview, not the live auction.”
“Why would a replica carry Margaret Sloan’s inventory plate?”
“I didn’t know it did.”
“Why was the pedestal loosened?”
“I didn’t loosen it.”
“Who moved the box into the conservatory?”
“I did.”
Theo looked up at Mara.
“Why?” she asked.
“My father texted me at six forty. He said the lot order had changed and Peter needed help.”
“Show Jonas the message.”
“It’s gone.”
“Deleted?”
“My phone reset overnight.”
“Phones do not become innocent while their owners sleep.”
“The hotel mobile system manages our devices. IT pushed a security wipe.”
“Convenient.”
Adrian gave a harsh breath. “Do you think I don’t understand how that looks?”
May you like
“I think you understand how everything looks. I’m interested in what happened.”
“I carried the box from the blue salon. It was already on the pedestal tray. Peter rolled it into the conservatory. I went back ten minutes later because my father said it had to come out. Peter told me something was missing.”
