Zoran said, “I am the detective, Ms. Ware. Dr. Kamimura is a civilian consultant to the department.”
Yoko smiled. Zoran was always so careful about titles. Precision in everything, important or not.
“Let us begin,” Zoran said. “I understand that both of you have been Marco Fellini’s assistants for some time now.”
Jessica said, “Yes. I’ve been here longer, about five years. Iona started work about a year ago.”
“You are the assistant in charge of the office files and transactions?”
“Yes, well, we both handle…I mean, handled all the administrative matters for Marco,” Jessica said.
Yoko noted Iona’s eyes tearing up at the past-tense mention of Marco Fellini’s name. One of the reasons I’m here, Yoko thought. Zoran depends on me to see. After all, I am the expert on vision, and vision boils down to perception, how individuals perceive life and what goes on around them.
Zoran continued, “You have records of all your customers, suppliers, contacts—that sort of thing?”
“Certainly,” Jessica said.
“So you would have records pertaining to the claim by Hans, a Swiss man, regarding something that Marco Fellini had obtained illicitly?”
“You mean Hans Reiniger?” Jessica said. “The fellow Marco had to get a restraining order on?”
“Yes, the man on whom you obtained a restraining order. Mrs. Fellini was telling us that he was here some months ago, bothering Marco Fellini.”
“Not just here. Everywhere,” Jessica said. “Hans Reiniger was practically a stalker. Not just here in the office, but at exhibits—wherever Marco happened to be. It got to be more than bizarre, it felt dangerous. He even materialized in Seattle once—or was it Bainbridge Island, Iona, when you were there with Marco?”
“Yes, on the island,” Iona said. “When we were picking up some food to bring to the cabin. We were at that market in Winslow…is it Town N’ Country? Anyway, this Hans guy confronted Marco at the check-out stand then followed us out to our car. He was yelling, a real creep. He kept talking about how he came from a long line of Gypsies and that Marcus had stolen something from his Gypsy family back in World War II—something to do with fortune telling and the Nazis—and that anyone who stole from Gypsies would be forever cursed….”
Iona shuddered at the remembrance. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she shook her head and stopped talking.
Jessica picked up the story. “Marco was absolutely infuriated. He called the Bainbridge cops, who arrested the Gypsy. And he had a restraining order filed against Reiniger that covered Bainbridge Island, but they said they couldn’t do anything about Reiniger harassing us in New York. So Marco called me, here at the office, and told me to have our attorney get a restraining order. The lawyer did that right away—the same day—and as soon as the judge signed the order, he had a process server meet all the flights coming in from Seattle. The restraining order was served on Reiniger as he disembarked. After that, we never heard from him again.
“Detective, it was all so frustrating, and so utterly ridiculous. In the first place, Marco wasn’t even born until after the war, and in his business, he would never have anything to do with anything that was stolen, by Nazis or anyone else.”
“Would you have a copy of the restraining order against this Hans Reiniger in your files?” Zoran said. “If so, would you make a copy for me?”
“No problem,” Jessica said. “Do you think he killed Marco?”
“I cannot say at this point. Certainly he would be a person of interest.”
“We will copy the entire file for you, Detective.”
Jessica turned to Iona. “You’ll take care of that, won’t you, Iona?”
Iona rose from the sofa. “Now?”
“No need to do that right now, Ms. Duncan.” Zoran said. “I wish to discuss another matter first.
“I understand it was you who found the experts who verified the authenticity of the Bernardem Collections jade figurine, the hunting scene with two archers.” He paused, noting Iona’s startled reaction. “Please explain how you located those experts.”
“Perhaps I can answer that, Detective,” Jessica said. “Two or three years ago, Marco and I conferred with Jamilla Rodrigo in Seattle about a 300-year-old set of Chinese chess figures carved from jade. Jamilla seemed so knowledgeable about all things jade that I suggested to Iona that she contact her and have Jamilla recommend someone else in the Seattle area who also was knowledgeable about things from China, especially items of jade.”
“Why did you seek experts in Seattle? Why not here?” Zoran said.
“Because Marco and Iona had planned to be in Seattle anyway, to examine items from a private estate sale in the Madison Park area. The fact is, Seattle is a prime import point for many items from China and the Far East.”
“Why did you not accompany Mr. Fellini on this trip, Ms. Ware, since you had been there before and already consulted with this Jamilla Rodrigo.”
“Because Iona is…I mean, was, Marco’s fair-haired assistant du jour. It was her turn.”
“Why do you say ‘Iona was Mr. Fellini’s assistant.’ Was she not his current mistress?”
“No. I mean, Marco is not anyone’s lover, now. He’s dead.”
“Yes. I see. It is always cumbersome, discussing the newly dead.”
Marco turned back to Iona Duncan. Yoko noted Iona looked both bewildered and dismayed by Jessica Ware’s frankness. Was it the freshness of her lover’s death or was she worried that too much had been revealed?
“Ms. Duncan. Please explain, as completely as possible, how the jade figurine’s provenance was verified while you and your employer were in Seattle,” Zoran said.
Yoko watched as Iona took a slow, deep breath and gazed up at the white-painted coffered ceiling, looking from panel to panel as if reading a comic book that contained all the answers to life’s mysteries, the ones concerning her at the moment clearly being, Why is Jessica being so mean to me, and why is she so unfeeling about Marco?
“I…I’ll try. Let’s see. We got to Seattle about mid-morning on a Monday and we were supposed to meet Jamilla Rodrigo at her gallery downtown first thing the next morning, Tuesday. She’d arranged for someone else to meet us at her gallery, a man named Curtis…Curtis Schoenfeld, who also specialized in Asian antiques. But when I turned on my Blackberry at the airport, there was a message from Jamilla Rodrigo that said Mr. Schoenfeld wouldn’t be available until Wednesday morning, and that we’d have to meet at his gallery, rather than Ms. Rodrigo’s, because he was going to be out of town on Tuesday and had no one to watch his gallery on Tuesday because his assistant was scheduled to have her baby by C-section on Tuesday and he couldn’t arrange coverage, and….”
Zoran held up his hand. “I do not need quite that much detail. Please just tell me how the jade figuring was authenticated, and by whom?”
Iona continued, her needle stuck in the one track in her mind that was audible to her shocked sensibilities. “Marco and I decided we might as well take Tuesday off too. We rented a car and drove to the ferry terminal and took the ferry to Bainbridge Island. Then we drove to his family’s cabin—more of a house, really, than a cabin––and decided do some sailing—he’s got this beautiful 34-foot catamaran, the cabinets and counters and paneling are teak and the roof is too, I mean, the deck, and the rails just gleamed, all polished—is it brass?”
“Please, Ms. Duncan. Just tell me about the figurine and how….”
“It was gorgeous on the water, blue skies, light winds We sailed all around and saw such sights, a school of porpoises in the Sound, a submarine tied up at the docks at Bangor, even an aircraft carrier heading into Bremerton—huge compared to Marco’s boat, and….”
Iona halted, her eyes spilling over with tears. Her head dropped to her chest, as if it had been suspended by only the most tenuous of threads, now irrevocably broken. “The next day we stopped at the deli at the Town N’ Country and had them pack us a picnic lunch s
o we could go sailing again, this time up the sound to the Strait of Juan de Fuca…and now…now he’s gone, and I’ll never see him again, and it’s all so…so…awful! It’s just so unfair! Who would do this to Marco? That creep, Hans?”
Zoran glanced at Yoko, grimaced, and removed a neatly pressed linen handkerchief from the inside breast pocket of his sport coat. He carefully unfolded it, smoothed its creases, then handed it to Iona Duncan, his reluctance obvious.
“Thank you,” she gurgled, pressing the handkerchief over her eyes, then blowing her nose with a decidedly undainty honk.
Zoran shuddered as she held out the sodden handkerchief, offering to give it back to him. “Please. Keep it. I have another. Many others.” He reached into his other inside breast pocket and removed a wipe and carefully cleaned both hands, while Iona honked her nose again.
“I’m sorry. I’m just so sad that he’s gone. We’ll never see him again, and I don’t know what I’m going to do….”
“We’re all sad, Iona,” Jessica said. “We all miss him terribly. You, me, Sophia—all of us. It’s a shock to all of us.” She gazed at Zoran, then at Yoko. “He was an amazing man, as generous as he was intelligent, and we all loved him.”
I wonder, Yoko thought. She was fascinated by the contrast between Iona Duncan and Jessica Ware. From what Sophia Fellini had said, both assistants had had affairs with Marco Fellini. Presumably, both of them were in love—or in lust—with him at one point in time. Now, it appeared to Yoko that only Iona felt any real loss with Marco gone. If she were to judge based on just her observations of all three women, Iona Duncan seemed the least likely of the three to have killed him, especially cold-bloodedly. In anger or despair, maybe. Certainly in anger if Iona thought Marco had lied about wanting to marry her. Iona had drunk a lot of wine when she had the confrontation with Sophia and was told that Marco would never divorce his wife. Anger and wine could overcome rational thought. A combination of the two might well have fueled a killing rage in Iona.
Was Zoran having similar thoughts? Or was he thinking about the germs on his lost handkerchief? Zoran’s next question gave Yoko no clue.
“Ms. Duncan, if you can, please tell me who was principally responsible for validating the authenticity of the jade figurine when you met with Curtis Schoenfeld and Jamilla Rodrigo on the next morning.”
Iona sighed and tried to compose herself. She looked at Jessica rather than Zoran when she answered. “Both, I would say. Ms. Rodrigo said she’d seen similar carved hunting scenes in a museum in Beijing, and Curtis Schoenfeld said he’d dealt with Bernardem Collections before and he’d always been satisfied with items purchased. So, both of them.”
“Did Mr. Fellini seem satisfied with their assurances?”
“Yes. He called Jessica from Schoenfeld’s gallery and told her to go ahead and arrange payment to Bernardem Collections and to contact several collectors, people that Marco knew would be interested in buying the figurine.”
“You then sent payment by cashier’s check, is that correct?” Zoran asked Jessica.
“That is correct. The next day. I could check our banking statements for you, if you would like.”
“I do not believe that will be necessary at this point. I would like to know where the figurine is now, however.”
“It was bought by Miles Freedon and is now in his collection. He has what is probably the finest collection of jade statuary in this city, if not this country, perhaps in the world. Mr. Freedon is a devoted Buddhist as well, so he was delighted to obtain such a fine work, knowing it was a favorite of the 13th Dalai Lama.”
“What did he pay for the jade hunting scene with two archers?”
“One and a quarter million dollars. It’s now the single most valuable item in his collection.”
“I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to see it one day,” Zoran said. “Perhaps it will be on display somewhere.”
“You’re in luck, Mr. Zeissing,” Jessica said. “You may be able to see it quite soon. The National Arts Club is arranging a showing of some of Mr. Freedon’s pieces, it’s scheduled to follow their current display of Ishi’s bows and arrows. Freedon has at least a dozen exquisite pieces that relate to archery and he’s agreed to display them when the Ishi exhibit is over—about a month from now.”
Yoko interjected. “Speaking of archery, I believe that both of you have had vision therapy. Didn’t you start with Dr. Forrest then go to one of the clinics at the College of Optometry?”
Iona perked up noticeably. “Yes! That’s why you look so familiar. Now you mention it, I think I’ve seen you at the clinic. Do you work there?”
“Yes, I’m at the infants’ clinic several days a week though mostly I’m involved in research, but sometimes I help out at one of the clinics for adults.”
“I don’t know about kids, but vision therapy sure did wonders for me.”
Jessica nodded her agreement. Iona babbled on, obviously unable to stop once she started talking.
“Jessica and me, we’re both way better archers than we were before the therapy. It’s as if I can track the arrow all the way to the target, almost like it’s in slow motion. Before, I had trouble shifting focus from the tip of the arrow to the target, so my aim was always wobbly. Now I sight in on the target instantly.”
Jessica interrupted. “Me too. We got our Ishi Certificates after our vision training. I doubt we could have, before.”
“I am aware of the significance of the Ishi Certificate,” Zoran said and he proceeded to recite how one achieved it. “The Ishi Certificate goes to any archer who can put all 30 arrows in a 20-yard target then get a score of at least 99 on a 40-yard target, plus have one arrow that is on-target 100 yards away.”
Yoko again marveled at the seemingly boundless store of Zoran’s knowledge. Did the man read Wikipedia for fun? No, not Wikipedia. Zoran was computer-phobic. More likely, Encyclopaedia Brittanica.
“Then both of you are expert archers. Is Madame Fellini also an expert in archery?”
“Yes, that was important to Marco,” Jessica said. “He insisted that we practice constantly. He was convinced that anyone could become expert with enough practice. I think he wasn’t happy that his wife hardly ever went up to the archery run these days, not since she took up yoga.”
Yoko watched Zoran, wondering what he’d make of the comment. Was it a snide dig at Sophia Fellini or did Jessica have an ulterior motive? Zoran absorbed the statement without showing any reaction. Then he asked, “I assume that both of you use the archery run on the roof?”
“Nearly every day, unless we’re ultra busy,” Iona said.
“Tell me about your normal work schedule.” Zoran turned to Jessica.
“The office is open Tuesday through Saturday, from nine to three. I don’t mean open to the public, but open for business with clients. All of our customers have appointments before they come, but they like to know that we are available by phone during normal business hours.”
“So you start work at nine?”
“Actually earlier. I always stop for a muffin and herbal tea at Pete’s—it’s at the other end of this block—around seven-thirty, but often I sit there for a bit. It doesn’t take me more than a few minutes to walk here from Pete’s. Iona mostly gets here at eight, usually a little before me.”
“What time did you arrive this morning,” Zoran said.
“About eight, just as Sophia stopped by to tell us the awful news about Marco. I got to Pete’s at my usual time and sat for a while, like I often do, then walked over here with my muffin and tea. I try never to be late, here or anywhere.”
“That’s right,” Iona said. “Jessica is the most punctual person. But I was here even earlier than usual and there’s a reason why. I couldn’t sleep after the most awful row with Sophia and Marco last night. I’m sure Sophia has told you all about that.”
“Please tell us your version,” Yoko said, managing to sound confident, although it was the first she’d heard about it. Maybe Dan or s
omebody else had more information. “Go ahead.”
At first, Iona was hesitant. Perhaps she realized she’d rambled way off the mark when reliving her last fling with Marco. Finally she said, “Look, it’s no secret that Marco and I were having an affair, a love affair. Last night, at the benefit, I spoke to Sophia in the ladies’ room––I went in after her and saw it was empty so I stood with my back to the door so no one else could come in. I told her what Marco had told me, that he was divorcing her and marrying me.”
Yoko asked, “What was her reaction?”
“She laughed in my face. Laughed! She said Marco always had one affair going and that he knew that there was no way she’d ever give him a divorce. She said he wouldn’t even ask her for a divorce because he really didn’t want one. She said that I was just a diversion for Marco, a little game he played for his ego. I was humiliated. Totally humiliated.”
Iona’s face was an angry mask and she hurriedly blew her nose again, shielding the emotion. Yoko looked over to check Zoran’s reaction. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking and his next words tackled a different subject.
“I have a question about this morning,” Zoran said. “Did either of you go up to the roof after Sophia Fellini told you about her husband being killed?”
“Oh Lord, no,” Iona said. “I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. All I could do was sit at my desk and bawl my head off. If it hadn’t been for Jessica being here, I’d be even more of a mess than I am. Do you think you can find out who killed him, Detective? Doctor?” Iona looked back and forth between Zoran and Yoko.
“Yes,” Zoran replied. “I am certain we will.”
That’s a good place to end this interview, Yoko decided, before Iona fell apart again. She stood up and gave a slight head bow to Marco Fellini’s two assistants, Marco Fellini’s two lovers. “Thank you both for your time. We will be in touch if we need any more information. We’re sorry for your loss, and we’ll do everything we can to find out who killed your boss.”
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