Decker said, “Let me give you a recap of where McAdams and I came in and why I asked you to come down.”
Sobel said, “I know why you asked me down. You told me that over the phone.”
Stewart said, “Let the man finish.”
“Be brief,” Sobel said. “I’ve got a dinner engagement and it’s a three-hour drive.”
“It’s ten in the morning, Ken.”
“You know how brutal traffic can be.”
Decker gave a quick summary of the events of Friday night while McAdams rocked on his feet, no doubt feeling superfluous. At the end, Decker turned to McAdams and said, “Anything you’d like to add?”
“Not a whit.”
Decker turned to Pellman. “We’re going to need that ladder again. Mr. Stewart will need to look at the panels up close.”
Stewart said, “You want me to climb up a ladder?”
Sobel said, “It’s not that hard, Max. One foot over the other.”
“I’m wearing leather-soled shoes.” He turned to his father-in-law. “If I break my leg, you explain it to Natalie.”
“I’ll catch you if you fall.”
“I’d take them down for you,” Decker said, “but I don’t want to screw anything up.”
“It’s fine.” Max was clearly peeved. “If I had known I had to climb up, I would have worn sneakers. I really do think the old man likes to see me sweat.”
“Been there, done that,” McAdams muttered.
“That’s enough out of you, Harvard,” Decker said.
Stewart said, “You went to Harvard?”
“Graduated two years ago.”
“What house?”
“Cabot. And you?”
“Lowell.”
The two men started playing name game despite a decade of life between them. If McAdams was good for anything, it was building rapport with the Ivy League elite with second homes in the smaller towns along the Hudson. But that did nothing to endear him to the regular working stiffs of the town.
Pellman came back with a ladder and his flashlight. He descended the five steps into the crypt and unlocked the door. Everyone crowded inside. Decker turned on Pellman’s flashlight although there was plenty of sunshine coming through the windows along with bursts of iridescence coming from the stained glass.
Stewart looked upward. “Could you shine the light on that one?” Decker illuminated the autumn panel. Max said, “I can already tell that it’s a reproduction. Good glass, lousy work.”
Sobel swore under his breath. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How can you tell?”
“Ken, how can you tell when it’s time to dump stocks? It’s my business.”
He waved off his son-in-law and then started pacing. “Goddamnit, how did this happen?”
“What about the others?” McAdams asked Stewart. “What do you think?”
Sobel suddenly remembered there were three more panels to evaluate. “Yeah, what about the others, Max?”
“Could I have the light?” Stewart asked.
“Sure.” Decker handed him the battery pack.
The dealer studied each panel, and then he said, “Okay. To my eye, summer is also a fake. The other two … I’m going to have to climb up and take a closer look.”
Sobel continued to swear and mutter to himself as Decker and McAdams balanced the ladder against the wall, going as close as they could to the window containing winter. Stewart shook his head then scaled the risers. When he was eye level with the panel, Decker stepped up two risers and passed him the battery pack. Stewart studied the work for a long time. “This is real.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Sobel mumbled.
Carefully, Max climbed down and went over to the spring panel. “Legit.” Stewart climbed down again and dusted off his pants. “Two and two, Ken.”
“Goddamnit! What the hell is someone going to do with two panels in a set of four?”
Decker said, “I take it that the panels are valuable on their own.”
“Of course,” Max said. “But as a set, the value goes up exponentially.”
Decker said, “You should take the real panels out of the crypt and put them in a more secure place.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Stewart said.
“How involved is it to remove them?”
“Not too hard normally. The chains just hook into the loops in the frame but it looks like the links were tightened around the loop, which isn’t the original design. It would help to have two people up there. One to detach the panel from the frame and another one to hold the tools.”
Sobel was still swearing. McAdams turned to Pellman. “Do you have another ladder?”
“Let me check.” He came back with a shorter ladder. “This is all I had.”
“That’ll work.” Decker turned to Stewart. “Shall we?”
“Let’s.”
It took less than an hour to remove all four panels, another hour to remove the chains and the ceiling pieces. At straight-up twelve, the two original panels and chains were bubble wrapped and then blanket wrapped and sat in the backseat of the Mercedes. The two forgeries would be entered as evidence of a crime. Sobel jangled his keys as he turned to Decker. “Now what?”
“I’m going to need the names of everyone who has a key to the crypt or even knows that the panels exist.”
“That’s a long list,” Sobel said. “A long, long list.”
Stewart leaned over to McAdams’s ear and whispered something. When McAdams smiled, Sobel said, “Can you tell me what could be even remotely funny?”
“Just two Harvard guys shooting the shit, Ken.”
“Well, shoot the shit some other time, okay.” Sobel was irritated. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Start with your relatives,” Decker said. “Any of them have money problems?”
“That would be my sister-in-law,” Stewart said.
“Cut it out, Max,” Sobel told him. “She doesn’t have money problems.”
“My brother-in-law is a good guy. Why he married Melanie is the family mystery. Well, I know why he married her. She’s beautiful. But she’s also unpleasant and a shopaholic. And don’t look at me that way, Ken. They’re going to ask their questions anyway, right?”
“Right,” McAdams said.
Sobel was angry. “I guarantee you that none of our relatives stole the panels.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Sobel,” Decker said. “But I have to start somewhere. Anyone innocent won’t mind talking to me.”
“Sure, talk to Melanie, talk to whoever you want, I don’t care.” Sobel turned to his son-in-law. “You don’t really think that Melanie stole the panels.”
Stewart put his arm around his father-in-law. “Honestly, no. That would be a new low even for her.”
“Make us a list and we’ll take it from there,” Decker said. “Also, what