Decker handed the cell to McAdams. “Write down the numbers and we’ll check out them out later. Since it’s a cell, if we need to check towers, we can.” McAdams began typing on his iPad. To Livingston, Decker said, “Do you recognize the name John Latham?”

“Who is he?” Max asked.

“I don’t know details on him, just the basics. He was murdered in the Boston area so it’s not my homicide and not my jurisdiction. But we’re trading information. Livingston, who is John Latham?”

The young man ran his hand down his face. He rubbed his eyes. “I . . . she . . .”

“What!” Max said.

Decker turned to him and said, “You’re not helping.” Back to Livingston. “Look, son, unless you murdered her or stole the artwork, you’re not in trouble—at least as far as the police are concerned. So just tell me what you know about Angeline and Latham and then you’re a free bird.”

“Let me think.” The barrage of information had thrown the kid into a tizzy. “Okay. I knew that Angeline broke up with Lance about a year and a half ago.”

“Go on.”

“I knew she was dating this older guy. I don’t know his last name but his first name was John.” Livingston rubbed his nose. “She told me that he was brilliant and from Oxford, that he came to the U.S. because he got a prestigious fellowship at one of the universities. Sounded like bullshit to me.”

“Why did it sound like bullshit?”

“This is going to sound terrible, but I’m going to say it anyway. Angeline didn’t grow up in the most sophisticated of families. She was easy to snow. She’d do any guy who she thought had connections. Why else would she put up with someone like me? I was terrible to her.” His eyes watered. “It’s probably what she liked about this asshole. She thought he was connected. If he was, he probably treated her terribly, too. That’s probably why she stuck with Lance for so long. He was rich and connected but a little dull in the cranium. I mean anyone with money who has gone to the right prep schools can do better than Littleton, for God’s sake.” He looked at McAdams. “I know I sound like an asshole, but it’s just the way it works.”

“Don’t look at me. I grew up around the block. Park and Sixty-Eighth.”

“Why don’t I know you?”

“Probably because I was shipped off to Phillips when I was a kid.”

“Phillips Andover?”

“Phillips Exeter.”

“Oh. Do you know Joey Seldano?”

“He was two classes below me. First string point guard. Did you play basketball?”

“Yeah. Joey and I used to go one-on-one all the time.” Livingston looked at him. “You’re a cop?”

“A Harvard-educated cop,” Decker broke in. “What else did Angeline tell you about Latham?”