Michelangelo_s Notebook

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“Looks like a match to me,” said Finn.

“Me too,” said Valentine. “I’d say your drawing was definitely a Michelangelo.” He stared at the screen. “Certainly the handwriting is the same.” He paused. “Did Delaney tell you how Crawley was killed?”

“He said he was strangled but somebody stuck some kind of ritual dagger in his mouth.” Finn made a face. “I didn’t like Mr. Crawley, but it still sounds gross.”

“This ritual dagger, what kind was it-do you remember?”

“He called it a koummya or something.”

“Spanish. Andalusian. Sometimes from southern Morocco.”

“You know everything?”

“A little bit about a lot,” he said. “That’s what makes me dangerous.”

“You’re dangerous?”

“I can be.”

Finn went back to her chair and sat down again. “So now what do we do?”

“I’m not sure, exactly,” he murmured, still staring at the screen. “This is interesting but…”

“It’s not the kind of evidence we can take to the police.”

“It’s all electronic, for one thing. There’s no actual drawing. Did Delaney mention anything about finding it in Crawley’s office?”

“No. He kept on asking me where I saw it last, I kept on telling him Crawley had it in his hand.” She frowned. “I think he figures I stole it.”

“There must be surveillance cameras.”

“There are. I don’t know if I’m on them. If I am then that’ll prove I didn’t take it.”

“But it would also prove you photographed them,” said Valentine, “which might be enough reason to come after you at your apartment.”

“I thought of that, but it still doesn’t make any sense. It’s as though the very existence of the drawing, phony or not, is evidence of something… something worth killing for.”

“It’s like I said about going around in circles.” Valentine smiled. “Eventually you get to the little dot of truth at the middle of the vortex. Which I think perhaps you just did.”

“What truth?”

“The existence of the drawing is worth killing for.”

“What kind of truth is that?”

“A dangerous one.”