The Cabinet of Curiosities (Pendergast #3)(17)

He obligingly opened the door to her office, and Nora automatically followed him into the hallway. He continued talking as they walked down the hall and took an elevator to the fifth floor. As the elevator doors hissed open, Nora suddenly came to her senses.

“Wait a minute. Where are we going? I’ve got work to do.”

“As I said, I need your help.”

Nora felt a short jolt of irritation: Pendergast spoke so confidently, as if he already owned her time. “I’m sorry, but I’m an archaeologist, not a detective.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is there a difference?”

“What makes you think I’d be interested?”

“You already are interested.”

Nora fumed at the man’s presumption, although what he said was perfectly true. “And just how will I explain this to the Museum?”

“That, Dr. Kelly, is the nature of our appointment.”

He pointed to a door at the end of the hall, with the name of the occupant in gold lettering on a wooden plaque.

“Oh, no,” groaned Nora. “No.”

They found Roger Brisbane ensconced in his Bauhaus chair, crisp Turnbull & Asser shirt rolled up at the cuffs, looking every inch the lawyer. His prized gems still nestled in their glass box, the only touch of warmth in the cold immaculate office. He nodded toward two chairs opposite his desk. It did not look like Brisbane was in a good mood.

“Special Agent Pendergast,” Brisbane said, glancing from his appointment book up to Pendergast without acknowledging Nora. “Now, why is that name familiar?”

“I’ve done work in the Museum before,” said Pendergast, in his creamiest drawl.

“Who did you work for?”

“You misapprehend. I said I did work in the Museum, not for it.”

Brisbane waved his hand. “Whatever. Mr. Pendergast, I enjoy my quiet mornings at home. I fail to see what the emergency was that required my presence in the office at such an hour.”

“Crime never sleeps, Mr. Brisbane.” Nora thought she detected a note of dry humor in Pendergast’s voice.

Brisbane’s eyes veered toward Nora, then away again. “Dr. Kelly’s responsibilities are here. I thought I made that clear on the telephone. Normally the Museum would be delighted to help the FBI, but I just don’t see how we can in this particular case.”

Instead of answering, Pendergast’s gaze lingered on the gems. “I didn’t know the famous Mogul Star Sapphire had been taken off public display. That is the Mogul Star, is it not?”

Brisbane shifted in his chair. “We periodically rotate the exhibits, to give visitors a chance to see things that are in storage.”

“And you keep the, ah, excess inventory here.”

“Mr. Pendergast, as I said, I fail to see how we can help you.”

“This was a unique crime. You have unique resources. I need to make use of those resources.”

“Did the crime you mention take place in the Museum?”

“No.”

“On Museum property?”

Pendergast shook his head.

“Then I’m afraid the answer is no.”

“Is that your final word on the subject?”

“Absolutely. We don’t want the Museum mixed up in any way with police work. Being involved in investigations, lawsuits, sordidness, is a sure way to draw the Museum into unwelcome controversy. As you well know, Mr. Pendergast.”

Pendergast removed a piece of paper from his vest pocket and laid it in front of Brisbane.

“What’s this?” Brisbane said, without looking at it.

“The Museum’s charter with the City of New York.”

“What relevance is that?”

“It states that one of the responsibilities of Museum employees is to perform pro bono public service to the City of New York.”

“We do that every day by running the Museum.”

“Ah, but that is precisely the problem. Up until fairly recently, the Museum’s Anthropology Department regularly assisted the police in forensic matters. It was part of their duties, as a matter of fact. You remember, of course, the infamous Ashcan Murder of November 7, 1939?”

“Pity, I must have missed that particular piece in the Times that day.”

“A curator here was instrumental in solving that case. He found the burned rim of an orbit in an ashcan, which he was able to identify as positively human—”

“Mr. Pendergast, I am not here for a history lesson.” Brisbane rose out of his chair and flicked on his jacket. “The answer is no. I have business to attend to. Dr. Kelly, please return to your office.”

“I am sorry to hear that. There will be adverse publicity, of course.”

At these two words, Brisbane paused, then a cold smile crept onto his face. “That sounded remarkably like a threat.”

Pendergast continued in his genial, southern fashion. “The truth is, the charter clearly calls for service to the City outside of regular curatorial duties. The Museum has not been keeping its contract with the City of New York now for close to a decade, despite the fact that it receives millions in tax dollars from the citizens of New York. Far from providing public service, you have now closed your library to all but Ph.D.’s; you have closed your collections to everyone except so-called accredited academics; and you charge fees for everything, all in the name of intellectual property rights. You have even begun suggesting an admission fee, despite the fact that this is clearly barred by your charter. It says right here: … for the Creation of a Museum of Natural History for the City of New York, to be Open and Free to all Members of the Public, without Restriction…”