It was standard procedure, he assumed, but still made him feel heavy with guilt and rawly frustrated.

He went upstairs, sat with Angie, held her while she trembled. Held Janis’s hand while she fought not to cry.

And thought about what needed to be done.

They sent for Janis, who shot him a grief-stricken look out of red-rimmed eyes before she went down.

“Janis said he had a late customer.”

“What?”

Angie hadn’t spoken coherently until now. She’d wept, rocked, trembled. But leaning against him, she began to speak in a voice scraped raw from tears.

“When Janis left for the day yesterday, he had a customer. A woman who said she was furnishing a new apartment. She picked out a lot of things, good pieces. Her husband was going to come in and approve, Janis said. So he was here late. Someone came in before he’d locked everything up, or caught him before he’d finished. He was here alone, Ash. All the time I thought he was running late, or dallying, he was here alone. I didn’t even call him last night. I was so tired after dealing with Olympia, I didn’t even call him.”

“It’s all right,” he said uselessly.

“When he left for work yesterday, I nagged him not to lose track of time. He can do that. You know how he can do that. He was so sad about Oliver. He wanted a little time by himself, but I nagged at him when he left for work not to lose track of time.

“He’d have given them whatever they wanted.” Tears rolled like rain as she kept her eyes locked on Ash. “We talked about that all the time. If someone came in to rob him, he’d give them whatever they wanted. He always told the staff the same. Nothing here’s worth your life or your family’s grief. They didn’t have to hurt him. They didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.” So he held her until she wept herself dry, and the detectives came up the stairs.

“Mrs. Tartelli, I’m Detective Fine, and this is Detective Waterstone. We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“Can I see him now? They wouldn’t let me see him.”

“We’re going to arrange that in a little while. I know this is hard, but we need to ask you some questions.”

Fine sat in a rosewood chair with cabbage roses covering the seat. She kept her tone soft, as she had, Ash remembered, when they’d come to tell him about Oliver.

“Do you know of anyone who’d wish your husband harm?”

“People like Vinnie. You can ask anyone who knows him. No one who knew him would hurt him.”

“When did you last see or speak with him?”

Ash held her hand as Angie told them essentially what she’d told him, expanding when asked why he’d stayed behind another day.

“Olympia wanted me—Oliver’s mother. She’s Vinnie’s sister, but we’re close. We’re like sisters. She needed me.” Her lips trembled. “I went up with our kids, and their kids. Vinnie was supposed to come up last night or this morning, depending on how he felt. I could’ve made him go. He’d have come with us if I’d pushed. I didn’t, and now—”

“Don’t do that, Angie,” Ash murmured. “Don’t do that.”

“He’d have given them whatever they wanted. Why did they have to hurt him like that?”

“It’s our job to find that out,” Fine told her. “There are a lot of valuable things in here. Is there a vault?”

“Yes. In the third-floor storage room. That’s mainly for pieces on hold for a client, or in for appraisal.”

“Who has access?”

“Vinnie, Janis. I would.”

“We’ll need to take a look. Would you know if anything was missing?”

“No, but Vinnie would have the records in his office, on his computer. And Janis would know.”

“All right. We’re going to have you taken home now. Is there someone we can call for you?”

“Ash called . . . my kids. Our kids.”

“They’re already at the house,” he told her. “They’ll be there for you.”

“But Vinnie won’t.” Her eyes filled again. “Can I see Vinnie?”

“We have some details to go over, but we’ll notify you when you can see him. An officer’s going to take you home. We’re going to do everything we can, Mrs. Tartelli.”

“Ash—”

He drew her to her feet. “Go on home, Angie. I’ll take care of things here, I promise. Anything you need, anything I can do, just ask.”

“I’ll walk you down, Mrs. Tartelli.” Waterstone took her arm.

“These are your half brother’s relatives,” Fine said when Angie was downstairs. “You seem close, given that connection.”

“In a family like mine you’re all relatives.” He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “They’ve been married longer than I’ve been alive. What’ll she do now?” He dropped his hands. “There’ll be surveillance. I know he had good security here.”

“We have the CDs.”

“Then you’ve seen who did this. There had to be at least two of them.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Vinnie didn’t shoot the man dead in his office. The man who, from the look of his hands, beat Vinnie. You don’t have to be a detective to figure that much out,” Ash added. “You just have to use basic logic.”

“When did you last see the deceased?”

“I saw Vinnie Thursday evening. He came to my loft. Let me see the CDs.”

“Being logical doesn’t make you a detective.”

“You suspect Vinnie’s murder is connected to Oliver’s. So do I. I’ve never seen the man in his office, but maybe I’ve seen the other one, or the others. Detective, do you think Angie would lean on me this way if Vinnie and I had any friction? She’s right in what she said before. Everyone liked him. He was a good man, a good friend, and it might not fit your definition, but he was family.”

“Why did he come to your loft Thursday evening?”

“I’d lost a brother, he’d lost a nephew. If you want more, let me see the tapes.”

“Are you bargaining with me, Mr. Archer?”

“I’m not bargaining, I’m asking. Two members of my family have been murdered. My brother worked for Vinnie, here in this shop. If there’s any chance I can do something to help you find who did this, I’m going to do it.”