“Now I don’t need anything from anyone. You seem like a decent kid, Harvard. As a cop, you’ll always be an outsider. Why set yourself up?” When he didn’t answer, Decker said, “Let me tell you what I found out this evening.” He gave McAdams a recap while the kid typed away on his iPad.

Afterward, McAdams said, “Colored glass shards. So Angeline did the copies.”

“Seems like it.”

“Not surprising considering she shoplifted. Once a thief . . .”

“There were two incidents that her mom knew about. I’m betting there were more that she didn’t know about. So yes, she seems like a good candidate for the forgeries. The questions are: Was she forging things other than stained glass and who was the mastermind behind it?”

“Latham?”

“Living like he was, I see him as a middleman, maybe a broker with connections to the rarefied world of art collecting.”

“Why do you think he has those kinds of connections?”

“The Windsor Prize . . . art culture and politics. He’s a better candidate for connections than Moreau. Find out about the Windsor Prize, okay?”

“Will do.” McAdams typed it into his iPad. “We’re still headed for New York?”

“Yes. I’m still interested in the Sobel family and Max Stewart. He’s an art dealer, ergo he has connections. I’m not saying he’s dirty, but he needs to be interviewed again. When I talked to him the first time, he played it close to the vest. When you were around at the cemetery, he seemed more relaxed, like the two of you were sharing an inside joke.”

McAdams shrugged.

“I noticed that as well when we interviewed Angeline’s friends. That they kept looking at you as an ally.”

“Then they’re delusional.”

“I can read people, Harvard. You’re young and you’re relaxed around money in a way that I’m not. You’re a good person to have around when I’m knocking on the co-op doors of Park Avenue.”

“Glad to help even if I’m just a prop.”

Decker smiled. “As of last night, you’re pulling your weight. No complaints.”

“Stick around and I’ll give you plenty.” When Decker was quiet, McAdams said, “I want you to know something. That rarefied world isn’t me . . . even if I don’t know what exactly me is.”

“Frankly, I don’t care about your existential issues. Two people were murdered. I’ve got a job to do. You can help in that regard.”

“I’m down with that.” He finished his drink. “And by the way, I don’t mind being an outsider in Park Avenue or in Greenbury Police. In my opinion, popularity is highly overrated.”